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It was impulsive, really. Max’s decision to burn the photos.
But he doesn’t regret it.
Ash was right, technically. They could have just used his photos. There was more than enough evidence in Ash’s file alone—and fuck, that thought makes Max’s stomach lurch in the worst sort of way.
And it’s also true that Ash was legally pronounced dead. But he—the real Ash—he’s still here, whether he wants to be or not, and ...
If there’s any way, big or small, that Max can protect him? He will.
No hesitation.
Max and Ash separate from George, and head back toward Max’s condo together, the one News Week paid for. It’s silent for a long time, until they’re nearly to the building.
“Ash,” Max starts, hesitant. “Are you ...” okay? But he trails off. He knows the answer is no. Who could be okay, after that? Who could possibly be okay, after ...
After everything?
Because it’s so much more than this one incident. Nothing in Ash’s life has been an isolated incident, really. Everything has been piled on for so long, and somehow all of it has left behind one of the kindest people that Max has ever known.
But—
“I’m fine,” Ash says. He traces a hand over the gun in his waistband, just absentmindedly. The action almost hurts worse than the lie.
It’s silent for another moment.
“I’m sorry,” Ash blurts. He’s walking in front of Max, so Max can’t see his face.
“What for?”
Ash scoffs. “We’re just ignoring the fact that I almost ruined everything? You specifically needed me to get that evidence, and I ...”
“Ash,” Max says. He resists the urge to reach out to him, to put a hand on Ash’s shoulder or—something. Anything. “We got the evidence, okay kid? It’s fine. And honestly ... if you had shot him, I don’t think I could have blamed you.”
Ash doesn’t respond. They make it to the building, and take the elevator up in silence. Ash leans against the railing in the elevator.
“Stand up straight,” Max scolds lightly. “Posture is important. You’ll regret it when you’re older if you’re always slouching like that.”
Ash looks up at Max, eyes wide and startled. But after a moment, his expression morphs into something dry and dark. He scoffs. “In all my most ideal dreams, I still don’t make it to your age, old man. I’m not worried.”
... Oh. Fuck. That hurts, a physical pain in Max’s chest. The idea that Ash sees the future like that.
Ash stands up straighter anyway, though, but ... he looks too guarded, now. Max regrets saying anything. After all, how many people does Ash let his guard down with, even just that tiny bit? In a language only Ash speaks, is slouching a way to say ‘I trust you’?
But the moment is gone, and it’s too late. Sometimes everything with Ash feels like that. Too late. Like nothing Max can do now will make a difference, no matter how hard he tries. He pushes those thoughts down, though, because—he has to. He has to try. If only because no one else ever has.
“You’ll ...” Max starts, several seconds after he should have responded. He clears his throat, and tries to sound confident instead of horrified. “There’s hope, kid. You’ll live to be an old man like me one day.”
But Ash just shakes his head. He looks down, and here, in this tiny enclosed space with an adult man, he shares a moment of vulnerability. His voice is soft, a whisper, an admission, as he says, “I really don’t see myself getting through this. My one goal is just to make sure that the rest of you do.”
“Ash—!” Max starts, but the elevator pings and lurches to a halt. The door opens, and Ash strides through, confident as ever.
Two missed chances in a single elevator ride. Two signs of trust that Max betrayed. What is the right thing to say? How do you convince a child who’s never known hope that things are different, now? That there is a future.
Max unlocks the door and lets Ash into the apartment. But Max enters first, familiar by now with Ash’s habits. He never seems to like it when Max is in between him and the exit. And though it hurts on some level, Ash’s comfort comes above Max’s pride.
“Where’s Eiji, by the way?” Max asks. “Is he safe?”
“Yeah. He’s with Cain and the others. I didn’t tell him about this,” Ash closes the door behind himself. When Max turns to face him, he’s looking down, a little—embarrassed? “He ... didn’t react well, when I went to try to get info from Kippard. So I figured he didn’t need to know about this.”
“He knew you approached Kippard?” Max sits down on the couch, but Ash stays standing. “Was he upset that you had to be that close with someone from your past again?” Max winces, wondering if that was a bit too blunt, but Ash doesn’t even seem to notice.
“No, it was more—the way I went to get the info, I guess. I, uh ... pretended to be fifteen.”
It takes a second for the implication of that to set in.
“Holy shit,” Max says under his breath. After everything, Ash was able to ... ?
But Ash shrugs, and plops himself down in an armchair, lounging back like a lazy housecat. It’s too calculated, though—the action is too careful, too intentionally indolent. “This time wasn’t as bad as that, but I still figured it was better to keep Eiji away from it.”
Max lets out a breath. “How are things going, by the way? With Eiji.”
Ash bristles for a moment, but then stretches and rests his ankle on his knee. “He’s safe.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Max leans forward, trying to make eye contact.
Shifting again until both feet on the floor now, Ash hesitates. Max can tell that he’s planning out every move, but as always, he gets thrown off as soon as Eiji is involved.
It’s a long moment before Ash responds.
“His love was never lust,” he whispers. “He loves me, Max, and it’s never been lust.”
And fuck, that brings a soft smile to Max’s face. “I’m glad you can finally see that.”
Ash breathes out a laugh, looking down. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I can see that he does, but ... he shouldn’t.”
“Kid ...”
“And I’m a nightmare, Max—but he’s a knight, shining armor aside, and he’ll try to rescue me. Again, whether he should or not is a different story, but—he’ll try. I know he’ll try. And ... sometimes, I even want him to succeed.”
Max sighs. “I want that too. For both of you. I think you need each other, you know?”
Ash snorts, and he finally looks up, but it’s with a dark grin on his face. “No. I need him, but there’s not a chance in hell that he needs me. Well—he needs me to stay away from him. But I’m too fucking weak to do that. Not until ...” He swallows. “Not until the end of this.”
Not until you die, you mean? Max thinks. He closes his eyes for a second, crushing those thoughts. They’re not going to die here. None of them, and especially not Ash. Especially not this kid who’s never had the chance to live.
There’s a sniffling sound, and Max opens his eyes to see Ash rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand. Oh, Ash ...
“Fuck, Max,” Ash whsipers. “Shit. God. Fuck.”
Another moment of vulnerability, and Max feels so incredibly lucky to witness it.
He won’t fuck up, this time.
“Kid ...” Max tries. “You can talk to me, okay? I’m here for you.”
Ash looks up at Max with tear filled eyes and he’s a kid, he’s a child, he’s an eighteen year old who never got the chance to be an eight year old, and everything about everything breaks Max’s heart.
“Max ...” Ash whines. “I—I just—”
Max wants to comfort Ash in any way he knows how, but he doesn’t know how. Ash might be his son just as much as Michael, but they need different things. Max can’t just scoop Ash into his arms and coo and hold him and rock him back and forth until he falls asleep. Max can’t tuck him in and read him a bedtime story and hope that it keeps the nightmares away. He can’t protect Ash, because it’s too late for that. The type of protection that Ash needs is from his own mind, and Max doesn’t know if he can provide that. Not really.
But he’s going to try.
“Is it about Eiji?” he asks.
Ash nods, and Max nearly sighs in relief. At least this is a topic he knows how to handle.
“I love him,” Ash whispers. “And—Fuck, Max, I ...”
“What is it?” Max leans forward, toward Ash.
“I’d let him use me in ways I hate, just because he wanted to—but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want anything that I hate.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He loves you, too.”
Ash scoffs, wet with tears. “But that’s—bad. He should ... He should take me and break me, until there’s nothing left but what parts of me he can use.”
Max winces. Maybe he isn’t quite as equipped for this conversation as he thought. “You’re ... Ash, you’re worth more than your use.”
But Ash shakes his head. “I’m not. An object—a tool or a toy—it never is.”
“Have you told Eiji that you feel this way?”
Ash blinks, then quickly rubs at his eyes as more tears threaten to fall. “What way?”
“Any of it. That you love him, or that ... the being used thing.”
Shaking his head, Ash wraps his arms around himself. “No,” he says, resolute. “He doesn’t need to know any of it. It doesn’t matter. I’ll die here, soon, and he’ll move on and be happy. And it’ll all ... it’ll all be okay, then.”
“Your death won’t solve anything,” Max says, but he knows Ash won’t believe him. He already knows that this is bigger than anything he has the ability to change.
“Open fire on me,” Ash whispers. “Tear me apart.”
Max wants to say something, but Ash laughs, and the sound is so bitter that any words Max had die in his throat.
“You know,” Ash says, “growing up the way I did—sometimes you get the urge to ... I don’t know. To dye your hair. To destroy your beauty. To tear up your own pretty face, your body—rip it all to shreds. To get tattoos, piercings—to leave scars. To dye yourself, and maybe if you dye then this—everything that hurts—will die. But ...” Ash’s lower lip quivers, and he bites down on it hard before continuing. “I don’t think it would have. I don’t think it will. Not until ... not until I die.”
“I think things will be different now,” Max says. He tries to make it sound like a promise. “With Eiji.”
Ash closes his eyes. “I trust him,” he whispers. “Eiji. But I hate that I do. Not because—I mean—I’m not afraid to trust him. Not anymore. I’m just ... I wish he didn’t ...”
“You don’t want him to love you,” Max realizes, a sense of both understanding and horror coming over him.
“Yeah.”
“You know, Ash, I—”
“Don’t say you love me too,” Ash interrupts. His voice is harsh, and he brings a hand up to hide his face. “Please. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t. I don’t even care if it’s true or not. Please ... please don’t tell me.”
Max takes a slow breath, steadying himself. His heart pounds against the inside of his chest like it’s begging to escape. “I won’t,” he promises, gentle. “Not right now. But I will tell you that I want the best for you. And that ... I think, right now, for you and Eiji? Nothing matters but the people you might turn out to be, in the end.”
“You know ...” Ash starts. “Max, this peace, this—love. What I feel with him? It makes up for everything before it, tenfold. Maybe apologies are real, and maybe they come from above. I love the way he looks at me, or—maybe I love the person I see in the mirror after he looks at me. I love pretending to be the person he thinks I am.”
“I think you’re just realizing the person that you are.”
Ash stands, suddenly. He wipes at his eyes one last time, but he’s not crying anymore. “I should go,” he says. “Eiji and the others, I—they need me.”
“I understand.” Max stands, too, and to his surprise, Ash steps toward him instead of immediately heading for the door.
“Max, can I ... ?” Ash trails off, looking down at the floor. Max isn’t sure what he’s asking. If he knew, he’d finish the sentence for him, or try to help somehow.
After a moment, Ash just opens his arms, tilted up a little.
Oh.
He wants a hug.
Something about the gesture, though—the way he’s asking—it reminds Max less of an eighteen year old asking for a hug, and more like an eight year old asking to be picked up and held, held held held and never let go.
So Max steps forward, and he holds Ash. He hugs him, holding one hand at the nape of Ash’s neck and one hand between his shoulder blades. Ash drops his arms to his side, not returning the hug, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Thank you,” Max whispers.
“What for?” Ash’s voice is a little choked.
“For asking for what you need. And for letting me give it.”
Ash laughs, soft and breathy but true, for once. “Thank you,” he says, “for showing me that sometimes this is all I need. Not ...”
Not sex, Max knows. Not to be hurt. Just ... to be loved.
Max thinks about the photo in Griff’s house in Cape Cod of two brothers in baseball uniforms. Thinks of how much Ash looks like Michael in that photo, both starting Little League.
He thinks about the image of a baseball and a pistol, and how he can only picture one of the two in Ash’s hand.
And Max holds Ash a little tighter, a little closer to him. Ash still doesn’t hug Max back, but he puts his head down on his shoulder, and it’s more than Max could have ever asked for in return.
“You’re going to be okay, kid,” Max whispers. “We’re going to get through this, yeah?”
“... Yeah,” Ash murmurs. It’s clear that he doesn’t believe it—not really. But Max also knows that there was once a time when Ash would have protested. Wouldn’t have even been willing to pretend.
So really, isn’t this progress?
“There is a future for you,” Max says. He sways side to side gently, pulling Ash with him. “Whether you believe in it or not. And we—me, and Eiji, and Jessica, and everyone who cares about you? We’ll be there. Every step of the way.”
“We’ll be okay?” Ash whimpers. He doesn’t believe it, of course. But he wants to, and that’s enough.
“We’ll be okay,” Max promises. “You will be okay, Ash. So stop slouching, okay? Posture is important. You don’t want to have back issues when you’re my age.”
Ash breathes out a laugh. “You know ... I took etiquette classes for years. I know how to have good posture. I just choose not to.”
There’s an admission there, in between the lines. A confession, and another bit of trust.
I choose not to when I’m with you. Because I know that you won’t hurt me if I don’t.
I know that you would never hurt me.
“Ash?” Max whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“What did I do this time?” Ash grumbles.
“Thank you, for ... slouching, when you’re with me.”
“... Oh,” Ash breathes after a moment. And he collapses, suddenly, with a laugh, and pulls Max to the ground with him.
Max laughs too, and they sit on the floor, both leaning against each other. Max still holding Ash.
The world and more, Ash, Max thinks. You deserve the world and more.
“Thank you,” Ash whispers. “For letting me slouch.”