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Sparring sessions at the gym took way longer on the days Michael and J. were his partners - meaning Sing usually finally managed to drag his feet across the entrance to the hallway to dump his boxing bag unceremoniously on the side of the shoe cabinet at four in the morning. What used to be a way to pass the time when Eiji was away on his shoots so all Sing needed to do was trudge to the bed and sleep the lonely morning hours away was mostly useless now - and instead of Eiji, Sing was greeted with Ash sitting by the dining table, typing away. The living room was dark, save for a small desk-lamp (the lava lamp Sing brought home some years ago, that Eiji definitely did not like, and spent a lot of time telling him exactly that, but still for some reason kept the lamp right next to the kitchen counter, where they could see it at every meal). Watching Ash as he was writing on his laptop seemed surreal - with his metal-rimmed glasses and neck-length long hair with messy bangs covering his eyes, in a dark green turtleneck with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he looked as though all the edges had been shaved off - a feat Sing never thought possible. Neither he nor Eiji seemed to move with time, it seemed - if anything, Eiji looked more and more like Ash; now, Ash had all the homeliness of Eiji. A snapshot of their past.
"Hey," Sing said in a quiet voice, careful not to wake Eiji and Shorter, who were sleeping in Eiji's bedroom.
Ash looked up from his computer, and Sing saw how tired his eyes looked. "Welcome back," he nodded.
Sing smiled. They hadn't even started living together for a month and Eiji was already rubbing off on him.
He placed his gym bag a little more gently on the floor, and walked to the kitchen to fill up two mugs of hot chocolate - mugs that Eiji had kept from their time at the condo (and practically all their dishware were). Neither he nor Ash liked sweets, but he figured it'd be a bit of a treat. Eiji had bought the dark cocoa, anyway, so Ash was sure to like that.
Returning, he set the white-and-blue mug on a coaster next to Ash, before sitting next to him.
"You hungry?" he asked.
Ash looked up for a bit. "I'll be sleeping soon," he replied. "Once I send this out."
Sing nodded, and continued to drink his mug of chocolate. He wasn't really expecting him to say yes - he only really agreed to food when it was Eiji or Shorter asking, and even then, it was usually mostly just Eiji he humoured. They sat there for about ten minutes, in the dark (well, along with the regularly changing colours of that lava lamp), with only the chirping of the birds and ticking of the table clock as company. It was never going to be him he'd say yes to, Sing thought.
"Not going to sleep?" Ash asked, suddenly. He was still typing.
He's got to be pretty busy with those reports and articles they pay him for, thought Sing. It was his job or something - but Ash had been so vague about it that Sing figured it was definitely on the less-than-savoury side. Not that he was one to talk. What Eiji called his 'business trips' were really just him dealing on Yut-Lung's behalf and taking his cut from the profits.
"Not that tired yet," he replied, swirling the last third of the chocolate a bit, wondering why hot chocolate tended to get more concentrated at the bottom. That he hadn't stirred it at all was not something that came to mind.
"Well, don't stay up too late," Ash said. Sing almost wanted to laugh. What was he doing, being all parental now?
"Speak for yourself," Sing replied, grinning.
"I'm not the student," Ash shot back.
"Aw c'mon, I don't even have classes tomorrow and I've cleared all my credits."
"Still a student," he replied, with a hint of a smile, without stopping his typing for even a moment.
With the mug to his face, Sing figured his glances weren't going to be that perceptible - and looking over the rim of the ceramic, he could understand perfectly why Eiji, and everyone else, was so smitten with Ash. He was a picture in a picture - he was the eye of the storm, calm, beautiful, and terrifying. His slender hands moved with elegance even as he was typing atop a keyboard - even doing the most mundane act in the world he was a living, breathing sculpture. The way his hair fell against his face made him look as though he'd stepped out of a commercial, even though Sing knew for a fact he'd just towel-dried his hair after a shower. He barely did anything with it. And he still looked like this.
Sing wasn't jealous, necessarily - so he told himself, but a part of him was gnawing away at his ability to reason why he felt such discomfort whenever he saw Ash and Eiji together. He didn't even react as much when Shorter and Eiji went out together, when Shorter was having a difficult time keeping his hands to himself. No, that bit was fine - it was all Ash. Even though he'd come to terms with the fact that his feelings for Eiji would never be returned years ago, watching Ash - the one he looked up to, the one he basically idolised as a teen, the one he compared himself to for the rest of his adult life - be so loved and love so intensely in return, was painful.
Maybe that was all it was meant to be. To watch as the boys who meant more than anything else to him love one another so deeply. With Eiji, accepting that took a long time - but he knew his heart, no, his soul, belonged to Ash right from day one, so he hadn't bothered to change his mind. And Shorter - well, he never thought Shorter would see him that way in the first place, so why try? But now he had to force himself to accept it once again. Ash would never look his way no matter how much Sing thought of him - how much he'd thought of him in the last seven years. It wasn't Eiji who obsessively read through every single essay in Ash's old computer until every word was burned to memory, and it certainly wasn't Eiji who modelled himself after his mannerisms and his athletic ability, or adopted the exact calibre of gun he liked most. As if Eiji was the only one who fell in love.
Sing drank the last of his cup in silence. He almost wished he'd poured some beer instead. Or any of the soju he used to keep in the bar fridge that Eiji didn't approve of (his response was mostly to ask why Sing didn't prefer saké instead, as if it was a personal affront - but even Sing knew Eiji downed those bottles on particular types of nights, so he'd stopped buying them). There wasn't any alcohol in the house anymore. Which meant he just had to carry his feelings right to the guest-room where he'd crashed for seven years - eight, now. He wondered if there would be a day he wouldn't be welcome here anymore.
"By the way, this chocolate --" Sing's thoughts were interrupted by Ash's sudden voice.
Before he could go on, Sing immediately interjected. "Nope, you don't get to complain, 'cause Eiji bought that one. You don't want to break his heart, do you?" Sing added the last bit in a friendly tone, half-jokingly, and half as a warning in earnest.
Ash's brows were furrowed slightly as he drank quietly. "I didn't mean that," he said.
"Yeah, yeah, take that one up with Eiji."
"No, I meant it was pretty good. I like how you made it," Ash replied.
Sing stared at him. What was he on? Oh, maybe it was just friendly chat. No, wait, Ash doesn't chat.
"Oh uh, glad to hear," Sing laughed, nervously. What was he even trying to laugh off? he wondered.
"It's got a good balance of cocoa and milk without being too sweet," Ash continued, unaware of Sing's internal turmoil. "Thanks."
Sing wasn't sure if he was having a fever dream.
"No problem," he managed out. His palms were sweating. And it was just a simple interaction. Was he really going to let the praise get to his head? He, just plain old Sing Soo-Ling, making hot chocolate the way Ash liked without even knowing? That wasn't worse than what Eiji would make, which would obviously be Ash's favourite? (Not that Eiji ever made him hot chocolate before, Sing realised. But of course.)
Ash studied Sing for a moment. "You okay?" he asked.
"Y-yeah, why would you ask?" Sing replied, then immediately wished he hadn't, because now Ash was going to ask.
"You looked a little... uncomfortable?"
Trust Ash, of all people, to notice even the smallest changes in expressions, Sing thought. He laughed, perhaps at himself. "No, I'm just tired," he said, getting up to put his empty mug in the sink. "Real tired." Of getting himself played like a fool.
"I see," came the reply. He was cool as ever. Not that Sing really expected anything else. "Turning in for the night?"
Sing paused a little, his hand still gripped tight on the mug handle. "Yeah, maybe," he forced himself to respond. Maybe he'd just lie in bed and wait for the trains to start running before going to college to crash in an empty classroom.
"Okay, well, have a good rest," Ash replied. "I've still got stuff to do, so you go ahead first."
Ash sure was considerate, thought Sing. Maybe Eiji changed him that much.
"Yeah, 'night."
It took all of Sing's energy to wash the mug. He half-wished Ash would finish his drink so he could wash it at the same time, and maybe sneak in a little indirect kiss. Not that he would care, or even know. It wasn't as if he'd know how Sing replayed all their conversations, every one they ever had, like a broken radio loop in his head every day. That he'd memorised all the inflections of his voice, the types of speech he liked to use, the gentle laugh he'd only ever let out when he was with Eiji or Shorter. That he knew he had no place in this house. He never did.
Just as Sing was leaving the kitchen to turn down the hallway into the guest-room, he felt Ash's hand on his wrist. Sing turned around to find Ash standing behind him with a neatly folded, warm blanket.
"Eiji said to pass it to you when you came home, he'd just washed the ones in your room today," Ash said.
Oh. Well, of course he'd call it his room, since he didn't know that Sing didn't actually live here, Sing thought to himself. Just a freeloader. Doing household chores sometimes, cooking the meals, checking in every few days before Eiji went radio silent just so he didn't land himself in the emergency department again, or worse, gas the house, like that one time he did. Sing installed so many carbon monoxide detectors right after that. No, Ash wouldn't know anything at all. And he definitely didn't bring him a blanket because he cared or anything - it was just what Eiji asked him to do. Eiji was all he ever saw, anyway, so why was he so surprised now?
Sing felt a sting in his eyes, and turned away quickly, grabbing the blanket with a rushed "thanks". Ash was just being nice, and here he was taking a mile without even being given an inch - there was no cake to have or eat. Why did it hurt so much, then? He wasn't looking to have that conversation with Ash, anyway. Sing nearly ran down the hallway into the room, but he was stopped by Ash's hand still on his wrist.
"Sing, wait," Ash said.
"No," Sing replied, a little too quickly, without thinking. Shit.
"What's wrong?" Ash asked.
"Not gonna finish your reports?" Sing tried to change the topic.
"I'm almost done anyway, it's fine. But you're not."
Bold of you to think Eiji or I are, Sing thought, but he decided that today was not the day to have that fight. Hell, they had it a month ago and Sing nearly strangled him, while bawling. A real cool move.
"I'm okay," Sing replied. "Don't worry 'bout it. Go finish your work." He was going to have to make a break for the room any second now because the floodgates were opening. Why the hell was Ash so caring today anyway? And yet, Sing couldn't bring himself to shake off that hand.
Ash sighed. "No I won't, because you look..." his voice trailed off.
"Like what?" Sing asked. It was too late. His words were choked up and his cheeks felt wet. "Like what?"
Ash's hand moved down from his wrist to his hand, holding it tight.
"Like you have something to say," he finally said.
"I don't," Sing replied. He was being stubborn and he knew it. But what was there to say?
"I'm sorry."
Sing almost snapped his neck with how fast he turned around. Ash, apologising?
And there he was, his eyes meeting the floor. He was so much less intimidating than he used to be.
"It's about what I did, I know. I'm sorry." Ash's voice was so serene, so quiet, it was barely a whisper. Sing wished he didn't have to think about how much he wanted to hear his voice for the rest of his life.
"It's not that, and that's... water under the bridge. Eiji's forgiven you, so that means I have, too," Sing said, as he searched desperately within himself for the strength to make those words true.
Ash didn't reply. His hold on Sing's hand tightened, and Sing wondered if he could bring their fingers together. If Ash wouldn't immediately recoil from that, but he probably would. So Sing wasn't about to try. What did Ash know about how he felt, anyway? He hadn't even told him.
"It's okay," Sing repeated.
"It's not," Ash replied.
Sing was starting to lose patience. "I said it's fine. How much longer do you want to drag it out?" he spat, angrier than he should have been. And maybe he'd look the part too if he wasn't also crying.
Ash looked at him with what seemed to be pity, and a profound sadness.
"I wanted you both to be safe," he replied, softly. "And I... didn't want you to see me."
Sing paused a little. "Is it because of Lao?" he managed to ask.
Ash nodded.
Sing looked at the floor for a while. "I knew it already, when we received the news. There wasn't anyone else he would try to kill. And... I don't blame you."
"You... don't?" Ash's gaze was stern, unrelenting, and in disbelief. Naturally.
"Not anymore," Sing replied. "I had seven whole years to get over it, anyway."
"I--"
"Yeah, save your apologies, it's not like you," Sing interrupted. "Or, maybe save them for Eiji. He suffered the most."
Ash looked so sullen that Sing regretted saying that immediately. Now he looked like he was going to cry.
"It's late, go finish your work and sleep," Sing tried again.
But Ash just used the end of his sleeve to wipe away the tears that still flowed down Sing's face. "Can't," was all he said.
"You don't gotta bother with me," Sing said, against better judgement. "I'll be outta here in no time."
"What do you mean?" Ash asked. He seemed genuinely confused.
"I'll leave as soon as the trains start running."
"Why? You don't have class, you said."
"Well, I got places to be."
"Really? You can just sleep, and then go," he replied.
"'S fine, I'm not gonna intrude," Sing pushed himself to say.
Then Ash frowned for real. He stared at Sing long and hard.
"What do you mean, 'intrude'?"
Sing felt a heat creep in to his face. Why was Ash playing dumb? As if he didn't already know Ash, Shorter, and Eiji were lovers. What would a fourth wheel even do?
"You get the whole house to yourselves if I'm gone, y'know?"
"I don't really care about that. It's your house, too."
"No it's not," Sing replied. His vision was cloudy, and the tears just kept coming. "It's not. It's all Eiji's," he choked. He didn't want to admit this to Ash, or Shorter. He didn't want them to realise how much of an outsider he was.
"It doesn't matter, you live here too, don't you? Even if you've got your own place."
"But I don't belong here," Sing finally said. He wished he didn't have to say it. Ash was the last person he ever wanted to hear this. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for a simple "well, of course you don't".
Instead, his gaze was abruptly brought up directly to Ash's, with his hands fixed on both the sides of his jaws. He was taller than Ash, now, so he was jerked forward, kind of in an awkward slouch.
"Of course you do," Ash replied. "Why would you even say that?"
"Because, you're all dating," Sing forced himself to say.
"And you're not dating Eiji?" Ash asked.
What? Sing almost yelled. Ash must have read his mind, because he simply went on. "I thought you were."
"No," Sing replied. "But I... I do like him," he added, quickly. And I like you, too. "Not that Eiji knows. And it's fine that he doesn't. I'm not going to get in your way."
Ash sighed. Sing wondered if he should have just lied, or if he could have been content with being a friend.
"I think Eiji does know, and he cares for you, a lot. More than you think he does," Ash replied. "Also, you're not in anyone's way."
"Yeah, sure. I'm just the other guy hanging around when you're trying to be alone with Eiji and Shorter. There's no way I'd not be--" he couldn't even complete his sentence, because he was outright sobbing, against his will.
"Sing," Ash said, gently.
God, why was he so kind? What was he trying to prove? Why couldn't he just shove him away, call him a meddling brat or something, and get it over with? Why couldn't Sing just let him go?
"You don't gotta bother with me," Sing repeated himself, voice shaking.
And you don't even know how much I love you.
"What?"
Sing realised he'd said that last part aloud. Mortified, he turned to run towards the door.
"Wait!" Ash yelled, grabbing onto him so hard they both fell over. Well, he's certainly gotten stronger, Sing thought.
"Go away, Ash," Sing muttered, his side plastered against the wooden floor. "Just leave me alone."
As if he didn't hear him, Ash replied, "You like me?"
Sing was exasperated. "Yeah, surprise. Some dumb kid who had a crush on you and just didn't stop. Even if I was never even on your radar unless Eiji was involved."
"Oh."
Oh is right, Sing thought. Now he's gonna avoid me forever. Goddamnit, you and your stupid mouth, Sing.
"I didn't know," Ash replied.
"You didn't have to. Can you let go now?" Sing managed out. The shock of falling had stopped his tears.
"No."
"What, why?" Sing turned around, angrily. Why did Ash have to make a fool of him even more than he already did?
"Because," Ash said, and paused.
All Sing could think of was how much Ash was disgusted with him.
"Because you didn't say anything. I thought the one you liked was Eiji."
Sing swallowed. "Would you prefer if I had?"
"Maybe, but I... thought I didn't deserve to be here, whenever I saw you both together. You were the one at his side for all these years," Ash replied, in a small voice.
He didn't think he deserved to be here?
"You wouldn't say that about Shorter, so why say that about yourself?"
Ash didn't say anything. Sing realised his hand was still on his shoulder. It was warm - Sing didn't want him to let go, even if it was inevitable.
"Maybe for the same reason you think you don't belong here."
Sing felt a sharpness in his chest. But the cats were all out of the bag, and Sing had no unspoken words to hide himself in.
"Maybe if I do, you do too," Sing offered, with as much strength he could muster. He steeled himself for the rejection to follow.
"How do you feel about Shorter?"
The question caught him by surprise. Sing was already barely holding it together with his feelings for Eiji and his years-long crush on Ash, that he definitely didn't want to entertain thoughts about Shorter. Even if he already knew how he felt when he was thirteen and Shorter was their boss.
"I don't want to have to tell you," Sing finally said. It was too hard - and that was an answer in itself. If Ash was already going to tell him how much he didn't like him back, he didn't want to hear the same about Shorter.
"Okay," was the simple reply - Sing could feel his heart breaking. Maybe he wasn't even worth a response.
"Can you give me some time?" Ash asked, after what seemed like an age. They were still on the floor.
"Time...?"
"Time to think about how to reply to what you said."
Sing felt his body grow cold; he felt so small, so broken on the floor.
"No, I can't," Sing said, his voice falling apart. "Not if you're going to reject me. I'd really rather you tell me that now, so we can just go back to how we used to be, and I won't get in your--"
"You're not in my way." Ash's voice was firm, but somehow, there was a kindness to it that Sing didn't feel he was meant to hear. "I just don't know how to respond just yet. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to be here."
"I can come by sometimes," Sing whispered.
"You can stay here, if you want to," Ash replied. "I don't... want you to leave, either."
"You can just tell me if you think it's gross. I won't be offended or anything," Sing forced out.
"I don't." Then, as if to make a point, Ash let his forehead rest on Sing's back, right between his shoulders. "I won't."
The clock was still ticking.
"Maybe we should go and sleep," Sing offered. The bout of crying had made him calmer, now. Yet, he felt like lying on the floor was exactly what he deserved. Maybe take a beating from Eiji and Shorter, for trying to steal Ash away. No-- he told himself -- they would never do that. They were too nice. They'd still invite him over for food and to stay the night and everything, just like how Ash didn't immediately recoil from him. But false hope was a drug he wasn't about to try.
"Yeah, you go do that, I'll finish my work," Ash said, moving to get up. The emptiness of the space he left behind was cold.
"Can I accompany you...?" Sing asked, in barely a whisper, his fist clenched, fingernails digging into his skin.
Ash looked at him for a while, before turning a terrified Sing to face him, directly. Seeing the redness of his eyes, Ash's gaze softened. He was just like the fourteen year old boy he remembered. He was older now, and far taller and bigger, but in his eyes was still the image of the child who wanted nothing more than to be seen for who he was and who he was going to be. He was still the gentle, loving, kind boy he trusted completely to keep Eiji and his friends safe. And he did.
"Sure," Ash replied, with a small smile. "Wanna make us some hot chocolate again?"
Sing stared at him a while, almost dumbfounded. But he soon collected himself, and made to get up to the kitchen.
"Hey," Ash began.
Sing turned around. Ash noticed he was shaking, if only a little. Whether it was from the shock of having to confess or having to wait with bated breath for an eventual rejection, he wasn't sure - but Ash didn't feel like keeping him that way.
"Do you wanna eat breakfast?" he asked.
Sing glanced at the clock - it was six.
"Now?"
"Well, not quite, I was just thinking that maybe we could make breakfast. For when Shorter and Eiji wake up at seven," Ash replied, sheepishly.
"Only if your cooking skills are better than what Eiji tells me," Sing grinned. They both knew Ash had been basically banned from the kitchen for making abominations of instant meals - in Eiji's words.
"I think they've had some time to improve in seven years," Ash grumbled.
Sing smiled. Maybe this was Ash's way to cut the tension, or maybe he was softening the blow - but either way, Sing thought, he wasn't about to pass up a chance to make breakfast with Ash. Like some kind of domestic dream.
"You're on, then," Sing said, before he headed to the kitchen. "We're making natto."
He laughed at the inevitable groan that followed.
"C'mon, literally anything but that."
"But Eiji and I love it!"
"Yeah, but I'm not Eiji and you."
Sing grinned to himself as he took the eggs off the rack, and some fresh tomatoes and mushrooms out the fridge. "Too bad," he beamed. He could hear the typing of the computer as Ash complained loudly.
"Alright, alright, we're going to make bacon and eggs, once you're done," he finally said, as though he hadn't planned to from the start. "White boy things."
Ash groaned in response. "Great, thanks for reminding me every chance you get."
"It's just too bad that you're in a house of two Chinese guys and one Japanese."
Then, to Sing's surprise, Ash laughed. That same gentle laugh.
"Yeah, you're right. But I'm glad," he said, with a smile Sing never saw before. "I wouldn't want it any other way."