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Ash was awake. He knew he shouldn't be. It was far too late after all, but he found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't manage to fall asleep.
He supposed that, after everything that had been happening as of late, it made sense. He moved into an incredibly expensive apartment, burnt down a good majority of Golzine's mansion, killed his best friend-
Right. He killed Shorter. Killed him. Killed him.
He killed him.
That moment replayed over and over again in his head. The way the gun felt cold under his hands, the way the trigger felt as he pulled it, the way it went by so fast, yet unbearably slow at the same time, the way Shorter fell.
He remembered how, after the deed was done, he looked at his own hands, horrified at what he did. He remembered how, when he looked, he expected to find blood soaking his hands.
He didn't.
There was no blood on his hands. But he felt it. He felt the blood seep through his fingers, into his skin and to his bones. He felt Shorter’s blood.
Shorter had always compared him to an angel. Ash figured it was mostly because of his looks. His pale skin, his blond hair, his green eyes. It turned out his assumption was, at least in part, correct. Shorter told him one time how he got that comparison from a post-card. How the lady depicted looked like an angel. How that lady looked like Ash.
But with Shorter’s blood seeping into his skin, Ash felt the least angelic he ever felt in his entire life.
Not that he felt that way often, but in that moment, while Shorter's corpse still lay atop Eiji, while Eiji struggled to get him to wake up, refusing to believe he had died, he felt uniquely demonic.
He remembered going to church when he was young. Before Dino, that is. He remembered how every Sunday, Griffin would dress him up in the only nice outfit they had and would take him to church with him.
He didn't remember much about mass, but he knew the basics.
He remembered that, according to the church, God was all powerful, all forgiving, and that if you so much as questioned his existence you would burn for all eternity.
He also remembered that murder was a sin that could never be forgiven. That, to take someone's life is to kill a child of God, to kill a brother of yours under Him.
Ash wondered if God saw the moment he pulled the trigger.
He probably did. As far as Ash could remember, God was supposed to see everything, right? He saw the worst of humanity and still chose to love, right?
Ash thought that, if he were to die and meet God, that He wouldn't like him.
On any normal day, Ash wouldn't care what some random guy in the sky thought. He didn't consider himself Catholic or whatever kind of Christain Griff taught him to be when he was young. But on nights like that, nights where he couldn't sleep, plagued by thought and memories of everything that he did, everything that's been done to him, he found himself thinking about God a lot more than he'd like.
He forced himself out of his thoughts for a moment. Thinking about God and about Shorter and about Griffin were the absolute worst things to do if he were to ever fall asleep. Eiji should be sleeping in the other bed, he thought. He turned his head, expecting to find the other man sound asleep, only to find him awake, sitting up and staring at Ash.
“You're awake,” Ash said, his voice quieter than usual. He attributed that to the fact that it was the middle of the night.
“So are you,”
“You should be asleep.”
“As should you”
Ash didn't respond to that. Eiji was right, of course he was. He always was, at least in Ash's point of view.
“Can't seep.” He finally supplied after a moment.
“Me neither,” Eiji fell silent for a moment too, his gaze shifting from Ash directly to somewhere close to him. It was a subtle change, but Ash noticed. He always noticed things like this when it came to Eiji. After a pause, Eiji began to speak again, “Were you thinking about Shorter?”
“Why?” Ash found himself going on the defensive. He usually did, especially when it came to Shorter. A part of him felt bad for not confiding in Eiji immediately, after all, he had proven time and time again that Ash could trust him, especially with things like this. Ash guessed it just came down to habit.
“I was. Thinking about him, that is. I was wondering if you and I were thinking the same thing?”
Ash fell silent again. Eiji never failed to make him do so. He was always so…genuine, it kind of weirded Ash out sometimes.
“I was thinking about how I killed him.”
“Please, don't say that.”
“Why not? It's true.”
Eiji shook his head, “It's not. You did not kill him.”
Something akin to anger or annoyance bubbled inside Ash. How could Eiji so confidently say that Ash didn't kill Shorter? He pulled the trigger, not anyone else.
“But I did. I killed him.”
Again, Eiji shook his head, slower this time. It looked more sad than defiant.
Guilt overcame Ash. He always hated whenever Eiji looked sad. And he'd seen it far more than he'd like to, especially as of late. Not that he wanted Eiji to keep it to himself, if anything he was glad that the other felt comfortable enough to be open about his feelings, he just wished that Eiji didn't have to feel it in the first place. He wished that he wasn't part of why Eiji was ever upset.
Eiji stood up, moving to sit next to Ash on his bed.
“You did not kill him. I saw it, and it was not you that murdered Shorter.”
Despite Eiji's kind words, despite the gentle tone that made Ash feel like he was going to melt every time he heard it, he felt himself denying.
“Can't you see it? His blood, it's on my hands, I-”
Eiji took his hands in his own. Gentle, soft, caring. He brought Ash's closer to himself, moving slowly and deliberately, like he always did whenever Ash was…like this.
“I do not see any blood on your hands. If I did, I do not think I would be here right now.”
“You shouldn't be.”
“But I am. And I have no plans to leave any time soon.”
At that, Ash felt himself practically melt. The prospect of Eiji, Eiji, of all the people in the world staying with him felt positively wonderful. Or, as close to wonderful as he could muster.
Ash leaned forward, resting his head on Eiji's shoulder. He smelled like citrus, probably because he had taken a shower that night before bed, but still. It felt like home. Eiji felt like home.
Ash never wanted him to leave.
“Promise?” He said, his voice small, slightly muffled by Eiji's shoulder.
“Forever, Ash. I promise.”