Chapter Text
It’s been about a month since Ashe moved in with Wilardo and they just finally started figuring out each other’s routines. After Noel moved in with Claire, Ashe had been left floundering, unable to pay his full rent with the meager wages he made at the bakery. And after an obscene amount of begging, Wilardo had foolishly let him move it. For the few first days, it’d been chaotic. Ashe was too excited about everything all the time and had a difficult time understanding that Wilardo was not Noel. No, he wasn’t going to stay up until 2 in the morning watching movies with him. Nope, he wasn’t going to buy three bags of marshmallows because Ashe just “needed” to make smores. And absolutely not, Ashe was not allowed in his room.
Wilardo had had to sit him down and firmly explain boundaries since Ashe seemed to lack every single one of them. But a couple weeks later, and Ashe had become a perfectly pleasant roommate. He cooked meals for them more days than not and respected when Wilardo needed alone time. Though as much as Wil tried to stick to his own room, Ashe liked to linger in the living room. He usually read on their comfortably worn couch, or sometimes he just stared out the window with distant eyes. Wil eventually figured out it was Ashe’s way of asking for company, but providing it was easier said than done, so Wilardo tended to ignore him.
But it was fine.
Or it had been.
See, Ashe—while respecting Wilardo’s boundaries—had no sense of his own privacy. He didn’t seem embarrassed walking around the apartment in just a towel, long wet hair draping down his back. He certainly had no issue getting all up in Wilardo’s personal bubble, and Wilardo could only yell at him so many times for poking his head in the bathroom to ask a question when he was in the shower. Luckily, they had an opaque shower curtain, but goddamit it scared Wil half to death each time. And of course Wilardo had known all this before they moved in together, but even now he still wasn’t used to it.
Ashe was a very intimate person. Very tactile. He loved to give out hugs, swinging arms around shoulders, or sometimes even just a simple tap on the arm expressed his affection. Hell, Wilardo had even seen him kiss Noel and Claire on the cheeks in the most platonic manner one could when distributing kisses. Wilardo understood it stemmed from growing up close with his family, but he could really only take it so much.
Cans clattered to the floor. A tomato soup can narrowly avoided his foot, but Wilardo couldn’t care enough to jump. The door clicked shut behind him and Wil shook his head.
There, right in the smack middle of the living room, was Ashe. He was sprawled out on their couch, bathing in the warm sunlight like a cat. Which was fine. There was nothing wrong with taking a little nap, but. But Ashe’s pale lean torso reflected in the light.
Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?
Wil huffed through his nose. His cheeks burned and he tried to convince himself it was because of the can he dropped on his foot. Next to his foot? He wasn’t actually injured, was he?
Thoughts of cans faded away as Wilardo’s gaze traveled up the soft muscle of Ashe’s stomach, sharp hip bones defined in his low cut sweatpants. He was so…long. Graceful with a sense of calm in his bath of sunlight.
Something gleamed under the light and Wil sucked in a breath.
Ashe’s…nipples were pierced?
Oookay, enough of that. Forcibly (and with extreme effort), Wil tore his gaze away and started scooping up the groceries he’d carelessly dropped. The cans created a colorful line along the counter, but Wilardo struggled to keep his eyes on them. Maybe he should tell Noel this roommate thing wasn’t going to work. He didn’t want to kick Ashe out, but surely there were only so many heart attacks he could take before he keeled over dead. Maybe Sirius would take Ashe as a roommate?
HA, as if.
Soft grumbles echoed from the living room and Wilardo quickly schooled his expression. He didn’t look up from sorting his groceries even as light feet padded towards him. Surely his face had cooled down by now, right?
“Oooo tomato soup!” A long arm reached over his shoulder, plucking the can from his grasp. Wilardo’s heart pounded in his chest. “Oh, oh Wil can I make grilled cheese for dinner? It’s been so long!”
Eyes not straying from his hands, Wilardo moved to put away the ingredients. He gave Ashe an off handed shrug.
“Sure, that sounds good. Want any help cooking?” Whew. At least his voice was the same monotone.
Look, for all Ashe’s loud and annoying personality, Wilardo could objectively admit the man was attractive. Which was turning out very inconvenient for him. Finally finishing putting things away, Wilardo had no choice but to face his roommate. Unfortunately, Ashe had a couple inches on him in height, so Wilardo had to consciously put in the effort to look up at him. Which was really not helping his situation.
“Nah, I got it! I hope we have enough cheese.” Ashe put a finger to his lip, crossing his other arm under his chest. Wil traced the movement, watching as the light caught on the metal bars. Ugh! Stop!
Wil shook his head, narrowing his gaze and pointedly staring into Ashe’s unfairly pretty golden eyes.
“…why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Might as well address the issue now. He refused to waver.
Ashe blinked, glancing down at his slim torso. “Oh right! I finally convinced Sirius to do my piercings. That man sure is persistent.” The man shook his head, braid lightly swishing side to side.
“But Claire made him give me a discount, so I’m the real winner here.” Ashe’s smile was smug and sharp.
“Well, that’s good.” Wilardo leaned against the counter behind him. He couldn’t recall Ashe talking about getting his nips pierced, but in Wil’s defense, Ashe talked a lot.
“Right? I’m so excited! Claire said they looked good, but damn they’re so sore!” The tall man whined, moving over to the fridge. “So I’m forgoing the shirt today.” He turned to fling open the door, presumably searching for cheese. Cold air rose goosebumps over his pale skin. Wilardo could trace the lines of his shoulder blades, splatters of light freckles spilling over and running down his long arms. God, this man would be the death of him.
He wondered if he’d been cursed in a past life or something.
It would be weird to reach out and trace the freckles on his shoulders, but Wilardo’s hand still twitched by his side. It’d been entirely too long since Wilardo had been in a relationship and he didn’t even like physical contact. So instead, he swiveled around Ashe to leave him to his cooking. He basically owned the kitchen anyway and Wilardo was not one to complain.
Rooming with Ashe had its perks in both the delicious meals he cooked and the extra pastries he brought home from the café.
As he left the kitchen though, his gaze skimmed across Ashe’s hip. Stark contrast to his pale skin, a large splotch of scarred pink ran up his side. It twisted across his back, nearly reaching his ribs in length. It pulled uncomfortably as Ashe moved, chords of scar tissue layering over one another. Wilardo swallowed.
How had he never noticed that? A scar that large was hard to miss. It looked old, surely worn at this point, but he couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. It looked…well, it looked like a burn. Too deep to heal and too long to have been caused by something simple.
Ashe didn’t talk about his childhood a lot, didn’t mention anything except where he was from. Sometimes, he’d make off handed comments about his family, but other than that, Wilardo realized he really knew nothing of this man’s past.
Which was ridiculous when he thought about it. Ashe loved to talk. About himself, about his friends, about some random dog he saw at the park. Really, about anything under the sun. Wilardo could recite his exact height (5’9’’), his shoe size (8.5), astrological sign (Virgo), and even his blood type (AB). But ask him anything about his past and he’d be able to provide maybe a few weak notions about a sister. Wilardo didn’t want to butt into anyone’s personal business, and if Ashe hadn’t told them, then that was his choice. But it seemed that Ashe overshared about himself, so he wouldn’t have to share his actual secrets.
A trustworthy guy, very open and way too honest most people would call him. His actual friends knew how much of a lie that was.
Wilardo dragged his gaze away. It wasn’t his business. He had his fair share of scars too and he sure didn’t want to share how he got those. Curiosity nipped at his heels, but Wilardo just strode out of the kitchen and shoved it out of mind. It was fine. Ashe was fine.
It was a strange mix of sympathy and adamant denial of his feelings when Ashe proceeded to not wear a shirt the rest of the week.
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Wilardo sagged in visual relief when Ashe walked from his room in an actual shirt. The internal struggle he was battling every day to keep from blurting out something stupid (“Oh hey Ashe, by the way you’re really hot!”) was finally over. Good. He’d been losing.
Wilardo ignored the ringing bells of disappointment in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to unpack any of that right now. Or ever, if he was lucky.
But Ashe had finally stopped complaining about the chafing of his clothing and was back to being chipper as ever. He returned that night from work with a whole container of strawberry strudels, food Wilardo was happy to help him eat. They watched a gory thriller movie together and laughed at the bad effects until it was 2 in the morning and they were both slumped over in sticky sleep. Wilardo was comfortable and warm so he didn’t bother moving from where he’d draped himself against Ashe’s side, his friend’s arm tucked around his shoulders.
He woke up to an empty apartment, but a large blanket draped over his back. His heart thudded in his chest.
Their routine was easy. Simpler. Ashe cooked and Wilardo did dishes. They argued over chocolate milk versus strawberry at the grocery store and ended up getting both anyways. They’d started partnering together for game night and surprisingly, they made a pretty good team. They cackled to each other about Sirius’s outraged expressions and Claire’s utter failure at trivia. And Ashe even started coming over to the Dark Lily to deliver lunch for Wilardo during his break. Sometimes he stayed to chat, sometimes Wilardo handed him a single flower and he’d see it in a vase in the front window of the café.
They still fought on a weekly basis, Wilardo having to chuck hairbrushes at Ashe to get him out of the bathroom in the morning and Ashe complaining about him hogging the hairdryer, but it was worth it for the quiet times.
There were still days when Ashe would sit in the living room alone, fidgety, and Wilardo would ignore him in trade for his own bedroom, but recently Wilardo found himself joining him. They’d sit and read quietly, both on separate ends of the couch. Sometimes, Ashe would put on some soft piano music, something he did when he was down and feeling sentimental, and Wilardo would extend his leg and press his ankle to his roommate’s. He may not like physical affection, but the grin on Ashe’s face was always worth it. Other days, when they were both feeling chatty, Ashe would drag out one of Wilardo’s floral scrapbooks. They’d sit shoulder to shoulder and flip through the photos. Ashe would ask Wil to tell him the meaning of certain flowers and without even realizing, Wilardo would start rambling.
It was peaceful and at some point, Wilardo started looking forward to coming home and finding a certain teal haired idiot sitting on the couch. Or cooking in the kitchen. Or screeching terrible pop songs from his bedroom.
He didn’t know when the warm blooming in his chest started, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t nice.