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If someone were to ask Ashton what his defining trait in life was, they’d say with certainty it was their ability to utterly and unequivocally fuck up. When something good came into their life, it was only a matter of time before it went wrong. Like sand falling through an hourglass, emptiness and a general sense of everything going to shit were always just inevitabilities. It was these things that meant Milo Krook confused Ashton so fucking much. Because no matter what - no matter how much dumb shit he put them through - they didn’t kick them out or even get that bitter anger that Ashton was so used to having people direct towards them. Instead, Milo fussed and joked and teased and made sure he knew he had a home . And, for whatever reason, they made them want to stay. For once they made Ashton want to trust.
The first night they spent at the Krook House really was supposed to be one night. But then one night had turned into two then into three then into four until…until Ashton just gave up on trying to leave and accepted the spare room Milo offered them. It had started as a drunken one-night stand where he hadn’t quite slipped away in the morning and they’d so cheerfully offered to make breakfast. Ashton had long since sworn off the concept of his friends - they’d been abandoned too easily before at that so Milo always ended up in the category of Someone. Not a stranger, not a friend. Someone who actually gave a damn about them. Someone Ashton could find themself actually giving a flan about. Not that they’d ever say that, of course but he liked to think Milo knew. He’d always been better at showing he cared through actions in lieu of words - bringing home scraps of metal or supplies they came across, occasionally ‘liberating’ a tinkering kit or two that would then mysteriously end up in Milo’s room.
The first time Milo kissed Ashton, it felt as if everything were right in the world. It was as if every worry and fear they had faded away into nothingness. Jrusar and the rest of Exandria could have been burning down around them and it wouldn’t have changed the perfection of the moment. Because it was such a small and insignificant moment. A fleeting moment in the aftermath of chaos yet it was a memory Ashton would treasure for the rest of their days. How could they not?
If someone were to ask Ashton who had tried to smash and break them into endless pieces, they wouldn’t be able to tell you. All they knew was that they were an enforcer for one of the too many people he was in debt to; somebody sent to make an example of Ashton - a reminder that their employer shouldn’t be fucked with, assumedly. They didn’t remember the attack itself. Just the sight of their own hammer being brought down on them again and again and again. It was Milo and Anni that found them. The two returning home together for the evening and finding them smashed into far too many pieces on the kitchen floor. By all means, Ashton should have died there but Milo Krook was not someone easily deterred.
Some people would call Milo a blacksmith, others a tinker. Ashton would call them fucking mad. How else could you possibly describe someone who glued you back together with molten metal? It worked. Somehow. Somehow the slag metal was enough to hold the broken rock pieces back in place; to secure Ashton back into something resembling a person. They had done everything they could to make sure he survived and that was one debt Ashton was certain could never be repaid - partially because it was one they didn’t truly understand. They didn’t see what Milo did. They didn’t see the part of themself worth saving. But if Milo said they were worth saving then who the fuck was Ashton to argue?
According to Milo, it took a week for them to wake up. According to Anni, they should have spent longer unconscious - she was enjoying the quiet, but Ashton had seen the worry on her face when she fixated on the scars. They knew the truth. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Milo dozing in a chair besides his bed. “Fuck me sideways with a great sword…” He groaned.
Almost instantly, Milo was scrambling to sit upright before forsaking that in favour of situating themself on the edge of the bed. “*Holy shit*. You’re awake. I-…*You’re fucking awake*.” They stared at Ashton in the same way he’d seen rich folks stare at their latest jewels and indulgences; as if, in that moment, they were the most important thing in existence - the most priceless thing.
“Really? I couldn’t tell? I-“ They were cut off by a pair of arms wrapping around them and pulling them close. The hug was tight enough that Ashton wasn’t entirely sure Milo wasn’t trying to just cut off their air supply. “Loosen up a little? Pl-“
Ashton’s words were cut off by a pair of lips pressed to their own. *Milo’s lips*. The kiss was soft and sincere. It was tender - like a quiet secret only the two of them knew about. It couldn’t have been more perfect. What felt like far too soon, they pulled back. “Scare me like that again and I’ll kill you myself.” They warned with no seriousness in their voice. “I’m not putting you back together a second time.”
His eyebrows furrowed at their words. “What the fuck happened to me anyways? I feel like a house fell on me or something.” A quiet groan slipped from their lips.
“I was hoping you'd tell me that?” Milo reached for one of their hands, lacing their fingers together. “I mean, I’m assuming part of it is you being a fucking idiot? But there’s always more to the story than that.”
“Oh, fuck you!”
“Fuck you too!”
Ashton Greymoore wasn’t someone that understood how to trust anymore but when he caught sight of how Milo Krook stared at him? Maybe…Just maybe he could afford to care.