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Ash doesn’t know anyone who loves New York, per say. None of them had a choice, they’re all just born here, therefore they’re stuck. No way out. The only person who loves New York is Eiji who came here willingly. He could have gone anywhere in the world but chose to put down roots in New York. If it were Ash, he would have chosen anywhere but here.
He hears Los Angeles is the shit. The PCH singlehandedly facilitates more than 50% of marriage proposals in LA. Maybe they should move. Buy Eiji a house, settle someplace in the suburbs away from the city.
Until then, New York will just have to do until he can solidify his connections in the west coast. Expand his operations westward, where the gold is.
He pulls up across the street from Eiji’s apartment, pushing the kickstand down. His motorcycle shines a mean silver under the streetlight. He brought his best bike, a Harley with a reputation. He buffed and polished her until you couldn’t look at her without the shine taking out your eye.
Eiji ducks out of his apartment, smiling when he sees Ash wave him over. He’s wearing a pink sweater vest and a collared shirt, both tucked into his jeans. They must look weird together, cutting a juxtaposition. Eiji’s a nice looking kid, soft where Ash is all bite. Hair pushed back, combat boots, a different leather jacket for each day of the week. Really not the kind of guy you want your kid hanging around.
Ash gives him a little show. He revs his engine, the sound ripping through the street before settling back to a steady purr, the feeling of it rumbling deep within the heart of his palms.
“Hey,” he says, watching as Eiji jogs over, flipping his visor up. “Hungry?”
“Super,” Eiji says, bracing a hand on the fuel tank, laying a kiss on the side of Ash’s helmet. “You’re late.”
“Sorry.” Ash tries to take off his helmet. Eiji pushes his helmet back down with both hands, laughing when Ash sputters. “Hey—” he tries to fight him off, “—I’m trying to kiss you.”
“Later, I’m hungry.” Eiji takes the spare helmet and straps it on, slinging his leg over the motorcycle and settling all along Ash’s back, warm and solid.
First time they rode like this, Ash nearly exploded. He’s not shy, he just underestimated how much he liked Eiji. Anticipation twisted a fist through him, made it feel like the bike he was so used to riding was a horse trying to buck him. Today is no different. Eiji wraps his arms around his waist, settling in close. Ash snaps his visor down and flips up the kickstand.
He takes Eiji to his favorite diner uptown where the seats are upholstered in cheap leather and the walls are decked out with baseball hall of famers. Quintessential American, complete with the all-metal table and the condiments pushed off to the edge.
Ash takes off his helmet and shakes his hair out, smoothing it back into place with a hand. He catches Eiji staring, and smirks. “You sure you’re hungry for burgers? Maybe you’re hungry for something else.”
“Ugh!” Eiji gags and leads the way into the diner, pushing open the door.
“I’m joking!” Ash says, catching up in just one stride, sliding his hand into Eiji’s back pocket. He totally wasn’t.
The diner’s empty for a weeknight, nothing but a scatter of businessmen. Everyone looks up when they walk in. They must think he’s holding Eiji hostage or something. A biker and a nerd don’t just walk into a diner together, there’s always a catch. Like, he’s lording Eiji’s filthy secrets over his head or something. The truth is, it’s all reversed. Eiji’s holding all the cards. All Ash knows is when to fold.
They settle into a booth next to the window so Eiji can people-watch. It’s still dark out, but spring is just around the corner. Ash can’t wait. Central Park is gorgeous once the flowers bloom, he wants to be the one to show Eiji.
He leans back, arm slung over the back of the booth as he flips open the menu. “What do you want?”
“A milkshake. A hamburger. Steak? BLT, extra fries—”
“Order the whole menu, why don’t you.”
Eiji mocks him, “Order the whole menu why don’t you.”
“I said it affectionately.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I meant it, too. Eat your heart out. It’s on me.”
“You treat me a lot,” Eiji says, eyes trained on the menu as he flips through it. “You should let me treat you sometimes.”
Ooh, busted. Ash crosses their ankles together under the table. Warm, where the cuff of Eiji’s jeans lift and their skin touches. Eiji flicks his eyes up. “I just wanna take care of you, is that such a crime?”
A slight flush settles high up on Eiji’s cheeks. He lifts his hand. “We’re ready to order!”
Ash snickers, Eiji whacking his hand with the menu as he rattles off a long exhaustive list of what he wants for dinner to the waitress. A strawberry milkshake—two straws ma’am, hamburger no onions, fries extra fried, a salad, a hot dog, please no mustard on that ma’am.
Ma’am this, ma’am that. Eiji’s just got that charm that makes everyone want to dote on him. He even has Ash’s gang in his back pocket. He felt it when they first met a couple months ago, back when the city rained endlessly. Eiji kept hanging around his bike, ogling it, until he finally worked up the courage to ask if he could ride with him.
As it turned out, Eiji was into more than just his bike, and that was that.
Eiji pops a fry into his mouth, pleasure lighting up his face. Ash chases a tomato around his plate. Outside the window, the city looms large and monotonous, thunder booming in the distance.
“I could eat here everyday,” he says, lifting the burger and taking a bite, just the simple crunch of the lettuce making Ash’s mouth water even though he’s not even hungry.
“You’re gonna get heart disease.”
He sucks ketchup off his finger. Ash sweats. “Worth it. You’re not gonna eat?”
“Not hungry.”
“Come on, at least try the milkshake.”
He nudges the milkshake forward, turning one of the straws toward Ash. He leans in too, hand braced on the edge of the table, to drink. Ash’s brain short circuits. He does what he can only do, and dips his head. Eiji meets his eyes and smiles, pulling back.
“Good, right?”
“Yup,” Ash says, clearing his throat. “So good.”
And then, thunder claps and the sky opens, dumping out a sheet of rain. Ah, crap. Fuck the weatherman, he didn’t say shit about rain. He knew he should have brought a car.
Eiji doesn’t even look out the window. He continues eating, only stopping to feed Ash a fry. “Is your bike gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.” Affection splits him. Fuck the bike. His garage is full of them. “Let me call you a cab. You can’t get sick.”
He gets up to find a payphone, but Eiji lays his hand over Ash’s, his palm soft. “I’m not gonna get sick. Let me spend time with you.”
“But—”
“I’m not gonna see you soon after this, right?”
He’s not wrong. Ash sits his ass back down. Work takes him all across the tri-state area. It doesn’t help that he’s casting a wider net to the west coast now. Free time is a rare phenomenon, he tries to take what he can get. Hey, even more of a reason to move in together.
They catch up while Eiji finishes dinner. Eiji tells him about his upcoming exhibit, the one he’d kill to attend but can’t because he’ll be caught up negotiating an arms deal. Ash tells him about—not the arms deal, but other work type shit. His men miss Eiji, they keep asking about him. Is he eating well, is he healthy, is the boss making him happy? Yes, yes, no.
Finally, when the rain lets up enough for them to ride, Ash shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over Eiji’s shoulders.
“Wow,” Eiji pulls the sleeves over his hands. “Am I part of the gang?”
“Ha-ha. I expect this back next time. And let it air dry, it’ll shrink in a drying machine.”
Eiji gives him a thumbs-up. “Throw it in the dryer, got it.”
“Throw it in the dryer and I’ll throw you in the Hudson.”
Ash zips the jacket up as far as it’ll go underneath the lapels. The rain softened but at a cost; the wind picked up, whipping across his chest on the ride back, the cold slicing into him like a dagger. His shirt is soaked through. He can feel Eiji bury his face between his shoulder blades, tucked right into the center of his tattoo.
“Let me walk you up,” Ash says, parking his bike someplace dry, “make sure you get home safe.”
“Please,” Eiji laughs, already leading the way back to his apartment complex. “Protect me from what?”
“The elderly are ten times more likely to slip and fall when it rains—”
“I’m only two years older than you!”
Ash just laughs. Keeps on laughing when Eiji lets him into his complex and flicks water onto his face. He wants to draw this out for as long as he can. The universe hears him out for once and delivers him a gift, a maintenance sign on the elevator. Eiji looks at it miserably while Ash crows inside.
The building’s stairwell is a fucking mess, it’s like a horror movie in here. It’s dark and musky, the lights won’t stop flickering. They mess around on their way up to the 11th floor, Ash pawing at him, trying to get him to turn around. Oh, Eiji! I can’t see, I’m slipping and falling! Help, my pants got caught on the railing! For God’s sake, I stepped on a tack! The sound of Eiji’s laughter echoing up and down the stairwell.
“Stop!” he laughs helplessly, swatting Ash’s hands away as he tries to grab at him. “This is dangerous!”
“You would ignore a man in need?” Ash says, twisting his hands all up in Eiji’s shirt, trying to get him close.
But Eiji’s smart. If they get close, Ash isn’t going to want to leave. He starts covering two stairs at a time, hand passing up the railing.
They barely make it to the 11th floor in one piece, Eiji sweating from sprinting that last stretch.
Maintenance is doing a shit job with the building. Not only is the elevator out, all the lights are burnt out on his floor except for the one at the far end of the hallway. It’s dim and silent as Ash stares at the back of Eiji’s neck while he unlocks the door to his apartment, the neckline of his shirt pulled back from his jacket and the rain. He looks away.
He can’t stay no matter how badly he wants to. Business is calling. Money won’t make itself. He learned early on that no one would take care of his gang except for him. So, he has to go.
Still, he places his hand over Eiji’s and gently pulls the door shut. Water drips from his hair, runs down in rivulets down his face. Eiji turns back, looking up at him. Ash doesn’t know what he sees, but Eiji slowly reaches up and smooths back his hair, slicks it back with his hands until his eyes are clear.
Now’s the perfect time to pop the question. Or if he’s feeling brave, the declaration. I love you, stay with me. Come to LA with me. I’ll buy you that golden retriever you love, the one that always wins best in show, and anything else you might want. A fleet of cars. A house. Houses. If it’s got a price, it’s yours.
It all stoppers at his throat. He just looks at Eiji, unsure of where to start. The sheer magnitude of his emotions overtaking him.
Eiji just smiles and cups his face, bringing him down. His eyelashes sweep over Ash’s cheek as he closes his eyes, kissing him, guiding the warmth back into him. And, well. Business can wait for a second, can’t it?
He does what he’s wanted to do the whole night and slides his hand over the back of Eiji’s neck, hand turning the doorknob as he walks Eiji backwards into his apartment, shutting the door behind them.