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He thinks of Eiji.
His voice, his hair, his eyes, his lips. Those lips had felt so soft, all those days ago, velvety and clumsy beneath his tongue. He thinks of his spindly hips felt through the thick coat of his jeans when he'd patted that teasing smack on his ass, the rosy flush in the balm of his cheeks.
Then, suddenly, he's there. Eiji is an angel. Feathered wings poke out from the light bridge of his shoulders, big, dark eyes glassy moon drops in their pink rimmed sockets, and Ash wants nothing but to kiss away the tears that are falling down his soft cheeks.
"Come on, Ash." The hand he outstretches is gentle, knuckles clean of bruises and flaws. "I can set you free."
"Ei...ji..." His skin is marred with the ruby on Ash's bloodied fingers as he accepts the care free hand. Eiji doesn't pull him up; he falls to his knees, taking Ash in his arms. He feels those big feathered wings tickle against his back.
"It's okay." His breath is cold. It sends chills down Ash's spine. Light fingers tread through his hair, and he goes limp on his thorny shoulder.
"You can be free. Let me set you free."
Salt runs down his cheek, into the dip of Eiji's collar bone, forming a glass puddle on the soft skin there. Ash presses his lips into his neck, letting himself be embraced. This is the end. He knows it, he feels it.
"Set...set me free, Eiji. I want you to...set me free."
Shorter runs through his mind. His pained eyes, his tear stricken cheeks, the sound of the bullet going through his chest.
He wants peace. His body is not his own, while he's alive, his mind a reckless creation of the monster snuggled in his icy heart.
Is this Heaven? Sitting in Eiji's arms, feathered wings a gentle tickle on his skin, his velvet lips pressing countless kisses into the soft tendrils of his hair.
"I..." What does he say? He feels the presence of time eating away at his flesh, chipping into his bones and making him feel hollow, but Eiji holds him tighter, shushing him as if he were a small child.
"Thank you, Eiji."
His head feels light. Something akin to wind is brushing inside his ears. He looks down at his hands; they're a translucent white.
"Thank you, for setting me free."