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“Why do you love me?”
Huh. Okay, well, that came out of nowhere. Eiji closed his laptop, with a feeling this conversation might last a while.
“What do you mean, Ash?”
Ash fidgeted with the corner of the dust jacket of his book, but unlike Eiji, didn’t close it or put it down. He was rereading The Catcher in the Rye again, if Eiji remembered correctly. “You told me you love me.”
Eiji blinked. “And that surprised you? You told me the same.”
“Yeah, but ...” Ash hesitated. “There are a million reasons to love you. And there’s only one to love me. And even then ...”
Ash didn’t make eye contact, even as Eiji gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?” he asked again.
“I’m ... pretty,” he hissed. “But pretty doesn’t mean love. Pretty means sex. And you haven’t had sex with me.”
Eiji didn’t miss the way he phrased that, though he doubted it was even intentional. Not we haven’t had sex, but you haven’t had sex with me. Like sex was something done to him instead of a reciprocal act. Eiji was about to voice one of any number of protests he had to what Ash just said, but he took too long to gather his thoughts and Ash continued instead.
“And that’s it. That’s all I have going for me. Everything else is ... not something to be loved.”
Eiji shook his head slowly. He stood up from the desk and joined Ash on the couch, not really sure what else to do. “You can’t really think that, Ash, do you?”
He knew that Ash’s self-loathing ran deep, and Eiji was no stranger to the feeling himself. After he lost his athletic scholarship, well ... maybe he didn’t think there was much to love about himself, then, either. But something about Ash’s words felt deeper, almost intrinsic. Like he wasn’t just saying that there wasn’t anything to love, but that he didn’t deserve love. Like he expected everyone else to hate himself just as much as he did.
But it wasn’t intrinsic. Eiji knew. It was a learned thought process, and Eiji was going to help him unlearn it.
Ash didn’t respond to his question, which made the answer clear enough.
“I love you, Ash, so much. And of all the reasons why, your appearance isn’t particularly high on that list.”
“You know, ever since meeting you, I always wonder why people call me attractive at all.” He smiled sadly down at his book. “You’re attractive in every way, Eiji. Not just your looks, either, beautiful as you are. You literally attract people to you. Everyone is drawn to you, your warmth, your kindness.”
Something about the tender compliments was a little less heartwarming with the context of Ash using them to put himself down. Eiji wasn’t sure if it would be better to interrupt his spiraling thoughts, or to let him get it out before responding. Ash told him once that he admired how Eiji always knew what to do when he needed help, but in reality, Eiji was usually at a complete loss. He had a feeling that Ash just wasn’t used to people showing him kindness at all, so pretty much anything Eiji did seemed like the right thing.
“You’re perfect, Eiji, and I’m ... dirty. Broken. Tainted. Evil.”
Well, now Eiji couldn’t help but intervene. “Ash!” he scolded. “I’m not going to let you say these things about yourself. I wish you didn’t even think them.”
“Why do you love me?”
With a breath bordering on a sigh, Eiji carefully took the book away from Ash, marking his place with the dust jacket and setting it on the coffee table. Ash’s hands stayed where they were, holding onto air.
“Will you give me your hand?” Eiji asked, holding out one of his own. Ash slowly placed his right hand into Eiji’s, and Eiji gently held it. “I know you see blood on this hand,” he said, barely a murmur. “I know you see callouses from holding a knife and pulling a trigger.” He lifted Ash’s hand up and pressed his lips against the knuckles, more of a brush than a kiss. Ash’s eyes widened a little, and Eiji wondered when he would stop being surprised at affectionate touching. “But that’s not what I see, Ash. I see a hand that somehow managed to burn fried eggs last week.”
Ash let out a breath that was maybe, kind of, almost reminiscent of a laugh, and looked down.
“Just because you wanted to surprise me with breakfast,” Eiji continued. “I see a hand that brushed my hair behind my ear when it got too long.”
Eiji thought he might have seen the hint of a blush at that one. It had surprised both of them, when Ash did that. Afterward, he had pulled away quickly as though the action burned him, but Eiji was riding the high from it for days.
“I love you because you are kind, and caring, and loving, even if you choose to show it by telling me to watch Sesame Street.”
This time Eiji decided to let himself smile, even if Ash wasn’t quite there yet.
“I love you because I know that every time you yelled at your gang, it was to convince them to keep themselves safe. Because every time you pulled a trigger, it was to save a life. Because I’ve seen you, Ash, intentionally walk into traps or give yourself up to people who hurt you, just for someone else’s sake. And not just for me, but for Max, for Ibe, even for your terrible, awful father.”
Ash shook his head.
“One day you will see yourself the way I see you,” Eiji continued. “I will make you see, I promise. You are selfless to a fault, in honesty far more than I wish you were—”
“I’m not, Eiji, I’m not, I’m not—”
“And you cannot convince me that you are not worth loving, no matter how hard you try.” He was still holding Ash’s hand, and now he intertwined their fingers. “You can send me away if you want, Ash. If you don’t want me here, I will never force you into anything. But I will never stop loving you. I told you forever, and I meant it. Even if this were the last time I saw you, I would spend the rest of my life loving you just as much as I do now. But I’d like to stay by your side, if you want the same. And I don’t care about what you think you deserve, or about you corrupting me, or you putting me in danger. If you want me, Ash. If I make you happy. Then I am here.”
“I’ve never—” Ash started, then paused to rub at his eye with the back of his free hand. “I’ve never been this happy before,” he admitted. An odd juxtaposition with the tears in his eyes, but Eiji understood. “Not since Griffin left. Not in over a decade. But I don’t—Eiji, I don’t—”
Unsure of what Ash was wanting to say, Eiji squeezed his hand lightly. Just a soft reassurance.
“I don’t know how to love you back, Eiji.” He shook his head again, and maybe gasped, maybe sobbed, maybe laughed. “I mean, I do. I do. I love you so much. But—” This time he took a slow breath, a coping strategy Eiji was proud of him for, even if his breath was a little shaky on the exhale. “I can’t show it like you do. You’re so—perfect. So fucking perfect. But for me, I feel it, but I don’t know how to ... how to love you. Outside of my own head. And the longer this goes on, the more I realize how fucking one-sided it is. You don’t need me to protect you anymore. You never would have, if I hadn’t been putting you in danger in the first place. I’m making you try to fix me, even though I’m fucking broken beyond repair, and I can’t even—”
“You’re not making me do anything, Ash. And I love how you love me. I can see it clearly, and I think everyone could, long before either of us said it out loud.”
When was the first time Ash said I love you? Maybe it was in, I’d rather have you here, where I can see you. Or maybe it was when he said, Stay by my side. It doesn’t have to be forever. Even if it’s just for now. Or was it earlier? I’ll protect you; never leave my side. Or maybe the countless time he laid down his life to protect Eiji’s.
Eiji wasn’t sure how early it started for Ash; if it was already being spoken in choosing Eiji to retrieve the drug from Dr. Meredith, or in throwing down his own gun in exchange for the one pressed to Eiji’s temple, or even in the simple act of letting a naive stranger hold his pistol.
In fact, Eiji wasn’t even sure when he started loving Ash, either. Only that it happened a long time ago now, and that it now enveloped his entire heart.
“Love isn’t an exchange of actions or favors,” Eiji explained. Too much of Ash’s life had been in terms of business transactions. Too many quid pro quos, often slanted unfairly against him. “It’s just something you feel, something you know. And I’m very lucky to share it with you.”
“You’d be luckier if it was someone else. Not me.”
“I don’t think so. Every day I wonder how someone as exceptional as you chose me. I’m ... rather plain, actually.” Eiji could see Ash about to protest, so he quickly continued. “You’re talented, and selfless, and brilliant, and somehow annoyingly good at literally everything. Except maybe cooking.” He offered his most genuine smile. He didn’t have to try very hard for it. “So, maybe that just means that you’ll do our taxes and I’ll cook dinners. You can read the lease, and I’ll get you up on time in the morning. I’ll hold your hand,” he squeezed again, “when you feel like this, and one day you’ll do the same for me. It doesn’t always have to be equal, and we don’t have to keep track.”
“I just ...” Ash sighed. “I wish I were better for you.”
“You’re perfect for me already,” Eiji insisted, “and you’re getting better for yourself every day.”
Ash slumped over to the side, resting on Eiji’s lap again as he did once so long ago. The word forever ran through Eiji’s mind.
“I’m not loving you wrong?” Ash whispered.
“You’re not,” Eiji promised. Leaving one hand in Ash’s, he ran the other through soft, golden hair. “You can’t love me wrong.” He squeezed Ash’s hand one more time, and this time, Ash squeezed back. “It’s just love, Ash, and you’re already doing it right.”