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Ewroon whispers to you: Ash, where are you? We need to talk.
Usually, seeing a message from the assassin would have put a smile on Ash's face.
The red panda hybrid had a habit of appearing at the worst possible moments only to spend the next several hours talking nonsense. Endless yapping, ridiculous ideas, and constant interruptions.
"Ash, listen, listen!"
"Ash!"
"Ash, look!"
Over time, the chaos had become familiar. Comforting, even. But not today. Today, the sight of his name made something ugly twist in his chest.
Because Ewroon had lied to him, worse, he had betrayed him.
He never liked the idea of giving his heart to Dark Cucurucho. Foolish and Ewroon could trust that thing all they wanted. Ash saw nothing but another version of the Federation. Another creature that collected people and called it loyalty. A different cage was still a cage. Ewroon had promised him the exchange would be equal, no masters, no debts. Then Ash had watched him kneel.
"Hello, my master."
The memory still made him feel sick.
"I am your servant."
"Anything you ask for, master."
"I want to be a strong soldier for you."
Maybe it had all been an act. Maybe it had been necessary. Ash understood that. The problem was that every word still felt like a knife under his ribs. His blade, his assassin, the one person who had sworn himself to him, offering that loyalty to someone else. Even if it was a lie, even if it was an act, Ash couldn't stop replaying it, couldn't stop seeing Dark Cucurucho standing there while Ewroon looked up at him, listening, obeying.
The worst part was that he couldn't even explain why it bothered him so much. He had spent years telling himself that people were tools. Allies. Assets. And yet watching someone else's power close around Ewroon had filled him with a fury so intense it almost frightened him. When the hybrid put the amulet around his neck and he had collapsed screaming, part of Ash had wanted to run to him immediately, but he hadn't moved. He had forced himself to stay still, forced himself to watch. You chose this, you deserve this.
But the sight of Ewroon writhing in pain had left him feeling hollow. Even now, remembering it made his jaw tighten.
Then the pain had stopped. The hybrid had stood back up and immediately pledged loyalty all over again. To Dark Cucurucho, to his plans, to a future Ash had never agreed to. That had been the final straw. So he'd left, warp stone in hand, without a word, without looking back.
After leaving the Nether, they had actually tried to have a conversation. Ash had been talking with Don when Ewroon showed up, apparently convinced that a simple explanation would fix everything. Instead, they had argued. Ash accused him of lying. Ewroon insisted he had done what he had to do. Neither of them had listened to the other. The conversation ended with Ewroon storming off in frustration and Ash letting him go. They hadn't spoken since.
The last twenty four hours had been miserable. He'd spent the morning sorting through mountains of paperwork and the afternoon trying to fix the Regime's storage system, in vain. Tubbo needed to come back soon, before Ash lost his mind.
The sun was beginning to set by the time he finally gave up and started replacing torches outside the factory. One by one, warm lights flickered back to life. Then his communicator vibrated, his stomach dropped before he even checked it.
Ewroon whispers to you: Ash where are you? We need to talk.
For several seconds he simply stared at the message, still angry, still hurt, still wanting answers. And despite everything… He was still worried. The realization irritated him.
You whisper to Ewroon: I'm at the Regime. What do you want?
The answer came almost immediately.
Ewroon whispers to you: Come to Prawdziwa Polska 2.
Ewroon whispers to you: I just want to talk.
A pause.
Then another message.
Ewroon whispers to you: Please.
Ash sighed and massaged his temples. He then grabbed his warp stone. Maybe it was a terrible idea, maybe he wasn't ready for this conversation, but he needed answers.
Prawdziwa Polska was quiet. Too quiet. Ash stopped beside Grzegorz's grave and lowered his head briefly. Another child lost to the violence of this doomed island.
Footsteps sounded behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know who they belonged to.
"Well, well, well..."
The familiar voice lacked its usual confidence.
Ash spun around. The anger returned immediately. He crossed the distance between them in a few strides.
"Don't 'well, well, well' me."
His voice came out sharper than intended.
"What the fuck was that yesterday?"
The hybrid flinched. Not from fear but from guilt. At least Ash hoped it was guilt.
Ewroon looked away, toward the horizon, toward the rapidly darkening sky.
"Ash, I will tell you. But first we have to liege wie."
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a sleeping bag. Ash stared at him and then grabbed him by the hood and pulled him upright before he could put it down.
"No."
"Ash…"
"No."
His patience was already hanging by a thread. He put his hands on the hybrid's shoulders, firm, immovable.
"You're explaining everything right now."
For a moment, Ewroon didn't answer. His eyes kept darting around them, watching, listening. The sun had disappeared completely now and shadows stretched between the trees. The first drops of rain began to fall.
"Ash..."
His voice sounded smaller.
"What?"
"First we have to liege wie."
The words came out more urgently this time. Ash frowned.
Only then did he notice the details. The way Ewroon kept glancing toward the horizon. The way his ears were pressed flat against his head. The way his tail had wrapped itself tightly around his waist. The way his breathing seemed just a little too fast.
"What is going on with you?"
"Nothing."
"You're a terrible liar."
"I know."
Under different circumstances, the answer might have made him laugh. Instead, a distant roll of thunder echoed across the island. Ewroon flinched. Not subtly. Not the kind of reaction most people would miss, a genuine flinch. Ash's frown deepened.
"We should go somewhere else."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"We have to liege wie."
The knot in Ash's stomach tightened. The wind picked up around them, sending waves through the sea of purple flowers. Rain began falling more heavily, soaking through their clothes within minutes. Another flash of lightning illuminated the field, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder. Ewroon flinched as if someone had struck him.
"Ash."
His voice sounded wrong. Too small. Too afraid.
"We have to liege wie."
Something cold settled in Ash's chest. The hybrid wasn't arguing anymore, he wasn't being stubborn. He was panicking.
Darkness swallowed more and more of the field as the storm intensified. Another flash of lightning lit up Ewroon's face for a brief second. Wide eyes, shaking hands, tears rolling down his cheeks and pure terror in his eyes.
Then darkness returned.
"Ewroon."
The hybrid took a step backward.
"No."
"Ewroon."
"No, no, no..."
His breathing had become ragged now, desperate gasps that sounded painfully familiar to anyone who had ever seen a panic attack. Ash took a step forward, Ewroon took another step back.
"Ash, please..."
His voice cracked.
"Please don't let them take me back."
The words hit harder than any fist ever could. The anger started to fade as the concern was rising in him.
"Ewroon."
"I don't want to go back there."
Another flash of lightning, another crack of thunder. The hybrid physically recoiled.
"I don't want the dark."
For a moment, Ash couldn't breathe. This wasn't about the storm or about the night. Whatever Ewroon was seeing, he wasn't standing in a field of flowers anymore, he was somewhere else, somewhere Ash couldn't reach. And whatever waited there terrified him.
Ash closed the distance between them and grabbed him before he could retreat again. For one awful second, he thought Ewroon might fight him. Instead, the assassin practically collapsed into his arms. His hands immediately tangled in the back of Ash's jacket, holding on with desperate strength.
"It's okay."
The words felt useless, empty. But they were all he had.
A violent tremor ran through the smaller man's body.
"Ash..."
"I'm here."
"Don't leave me."
The answer came before he could think about it.
"I won't."
He needed to get him out of here, take him to a safe space. He kept one hand attached to Ewroon’s back, and with the other he looked for his warp stone in his pockets.
“I’m taking us home, okay?”
The moment they arrived inside the Twitchcon Casa, the chaos of the storm disappeared. The sudden silence felt almost unnatural after the violence of the rain. Ash barely had time to register their surroundings before Ewroon sank heavily onto the floor, his back against the frame of the bed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hybrid's breathing was still uneven. His hands trembled slightly where they rested on his knees, and his gaze remained fixed on the wooden floor as if looking anywhere else might bring the darkness back. Ash crouched in front of him.
"Ewroon."
No response.
"Ewroon."
This time he looked up, his eyes were red. Ash hated that, he hated seeing him like this. He also hated the fact that only ten minutes ago he had been furious with him and now all he could think about was how close he'd come to completely falling apart.
"What happened?"
Ash asked quietly. The assassin looked away again. For several seconds, Ash thought he wasn't going to answer.
"I don't know."
"That's bullshit."
A weak laugh escaped him.
"Yeah."
Ash sat down beside him, leaning against the bed frame as well. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't comfortable exactly, but it wasn't hostile anymore either. Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. Ewroon visibly tensed, the reaction was immediate enough that Ash almost missed it.
"You said they would take you back."
The hybrid's shoulders stiffened. Another long silence.
"I remember things sometimes."
Ash waited.
"When I sleep."
His voice was quieter now.
"Or when I have nightmares."
The words seemed difficult to force out.
"Not much. Just pieces."
Pieces. That sounded familiar. Fragments of memories, half-remembered pain. Images that refused to make sense. The Federation had taken plenty from both of them. Apparently they hadn't taken enough.
"What kind of pieces?"
Ewroon pulled his knees closer to his chest. His fingers tightened around the fabric of his pants.
"Dark rooms… The taste of metal."
A pause.
"People screaming."
Ash felt something unpleasant settle in his stomach. The hybrid swallowed.
"Sometimes I think I hear footsteps."
Another pause.
"Then I wake up."
The room fell silent again. Ash understood more than he wanted to. Not because he remembered the same things but because he remembered feeling the same way. The certainty that something terrible had happened, even when your own mind refused to show you the details. The certainty that the fear had come from somewhere.
"Is that why you're always asking people to liege wie?"
A faint smile appeared, small, embarrassed.
"Maybe."
Ash snorted.
"Maybe?"
Ewroon shrugged.
"I don't like night."
"That's the understatement of the century."
The smile widened slightly. Good, that was better. But then the smile faded again.
"I really don't like night."
The simplicity of the statement somehow made it worse. Ash looked away first. For some reason, he found himself remembering every time Ewroon had insisted on sleeping. Every time he'd complained. Every time he'd spam the comms asking people to liege wie. At the time, it had seemed ridiculous. Now it felt different, now it felt like survival. They stayed silent for a while before Ash broke the silence.
"You scared the shit out of me."
Ewroon blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
The hybrid stared at him. Ash stared back. Eventually, Ewroon looked down.
"Sorry."
"No, that's not what I mean."
The assassin frowned.
Ash ran a hand through his curly hair. For a moment he considered letting it go. Then he remembered the day before, the initial reason why he wanted to meet him. And suddenly he was angry again. Not the same anger as before, something worse.
"You almost gave yourself to him."
Ewroon froze. There it was, the real conversation, finally.
"You know that's not what happened."
"Isn't it?"
"Ash…"
"You called him master."
"I was lying."
"You still said it."
The room grew quiet again. Ewroon rubbed a hand across his face.
"You think I wanted to do that?"
"I think you didn't tell me."
The hybrid looked up sharply.
"I did it for us."
"No."
Ash's voice was cold now.
"You did it because you decided on your own that it was worth the risk."
Something flashed across Ewroon's face. Anger, good. Ash was tired of being the only one angry.
"I was dying."
The words landed between them like a knife. Neither spoke for several seconds. Because there was no argument against that. Because it was true. And because they both knew it.
Silence filled the room.The storm outside had become little more than a distant rumble. Rain tapped steadily against the windows while the room sat in near darkness, illuminated only by a few purple lanterns. Neither of them seemed entirely capable of appreciating the calm yet.
Only now did Ash realize how soaked they both were. Water still dripped from the ends of Ewroon's hair, dark strands plastered against his forehead and cheeks. His jacket looked heavy with rain, the fabric clinging to him uncomfortably. Even after being inside for several minutes, he was visibly shivering from time to time. Ash frowned.
"You're soaked."
"So are you."
"That's not the point."
A faint smile appeared on Ewroon's face.
"It literally is."
Ash rolled his eyes.
Then, without another word, the hybrid unfastened the cloth belt around his waist and shrugged the soaked jacket from his shoulders. The heavy garment landed on the floor beside him with a wet thud. Ash did the same with his own jacket.
The room fell quiet again. The soft patter of rain filled the silence while water continued to drip from their discarded clothes onto the floor. Ash found himself studying the room, trying not to think about how close he had come to losing him. It wasn't a pleasant thought.
Eventually, Ewroon let out a frustrated groan.
"This is awful."
"What is?"
He tugged at the damp shirt sticking to his skin.
"This."
Ash glanced over, the fabric was practically glued to him.
"You look ridiculous."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Ewroon snorted before grabbing the hem of the shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. He tossed it beside the jacket and immediately stretched with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
"There. I am much better now."
Ash opened his mouth to make a joke about the assassin’s broken English. Then he stopped. For the first time, he could see the scars properly, there were far more than he had expected. Some were thin and faded, barely visible. Others were deeper, crossing his ribs, his stomach, his back. Old injuries. Deliberate injuries.
Not accidents, not mistakes, but the work of someone who had been trying to hurt him. Ash's gaze lingered a little too long and Ewroon noticed immediately.
"You're staring."
The comment snapped him out of whatever thought he had been drifting into.
"I know."
The hybrid glanced down at himself before following his line of sight.
"Oh."
That was it, just “oh”. As if discovering an entire map of old wounds across his body was the most ordinary thing in the world. For some reason, that bothered Ash even more.
"You never mentioned them."
Ewroon shrugged.
"You never asked."
A fair point, annoyingly fair. Silence fell again between them. Outside, the storm continued its slow march across the island. Ash found himself looking again. Not because the scars were ugly, quite the opposite. Each one told a story he could almost understand without hearing it. The Federation had stolen most of their memories, but not all evidence of what had happened. Some things remained written directly into the body.
Without really thinking about it, he moved closer. Ewroon didn't react, didn't pull away, didn't tense. Ash reached out and let his fingers brush against one of the larger scars running across his side
The reaction was immediate. Not fear, not pain. Ewroon's breath caught for the briefest moment. The realization settled heavily between them. Neither acknowledged it. Neither moved. Ash's hand remained where it was.
"Does it hurt?"
A quiet laugh escaped the assassin.
"No."
His fingers traced the edge of the scar.
"That's not what I asked."
The smile disappeared. For a moment, Ewroon simply stared toward the window, watching rain run down the glass.
"No. Not anymore."
Ash understood immediately. The answer had very little to do with physical pain, some wounds healed, others simply stopped bleeding.
His gaze drifted across the network of scars again. Evidence of years neither of them could remember, of experiments neither of them could fully name. The thought should have made him angry, instead, he found himself wondering who had put them there. Wondering what had happened, wondering how much blood there had been.
The realization was unpleasant, not because the thought itself shocked him but because part of him liked it. Not the suffering, the proof of survival, the violence of it. The reminder that Ewroon had endured all of that and somehow remained stubborn enough to sit here arguing with him.
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"You know,"
Ewroon said suddenly, breaking the silence,
"This is probably the longest you've ever stared at me without insulting me."
Ash scoffed.
"Don't get used to it."
The hybrid laughed quietly. The sound settled somewhere deep in Ash's chest, warm and dangerous at the same time.
Ash's hand fell back to his side, but his gaze remained fixed on the scars, there were so many. The Federation had taken memories from them, names, faces,entire years of their lives. And yet they had left this behind, as un ugly proof of their domination.
"Do you remember where any of them came from?"
For a few moments, Ewroon didn't answer. Then he shook his head.
"Not really."
His fingers absentmindedly traced one of the scars crossing his ribs.
"Sometimes I think I do, but then it goes away, like a dream."
That sounded familiar. Too familiar. Fragments, images, feelings without context. Both of them were haunted by things they couldn't fully remember. The difference was that Ash usually buried those thoughts before they had a chance to surface and Ewroon seemed to carry them around openly. Not because he was stronger but because he didn't know how not to. The realization made something tighten in Ash's chest. His gaze was still fixated on the scars.
Ewroon leaned back against the bed frame and tilted his head slightly.
"You know what is funny?"
"No."
"I think you like them."
Ash frowned.
"The scars."
Silence.
"I don't."
"You do."
The certainty in his voice was infuriating. Ash looked away and apparently, that was enough of an answer. The grin returned immediately.
"Oh my God, you do!"
"Shut up."
The hybrid laughed.
"You are so weird."
Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded insulting but coming from Ewroon, it sounded almost affectionate and Ash hated that. Almost as much as he hated the fact that the assassin was right, not entirely right, but close enough. The scars weren't beautiful and the suffering behind them certainly wasn't.
Yet there was something about them that he couldn't stop looking at. A reminder that Ewroon had survived everything the Federation had thrown at him. A reminder that he was still here, stubborn, but still alive. His eyes drifted back toward the scars crossing the assassin's chest. Ewroon noticed immediately, again.
"You know,"
He said, his voice suddenly lighter,
"Maybe one day you'll get to add one."
The words hung in the air between them. Ash blinked. For the first time all evening, he genuinely had no idea how to respond. Ewroon, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered by what he had just said, or maybe he was pretending to be, both were equally possible.
"What?"
The hybrid shrugged.
"You like blades."
"I do."
"And you like blood."
Ash narrowed his eyes. He was stupid to think that Ewroon wouldn’t have heard his remark that day in front of the church.
"I don't know where this conversation is going."
"Neither do I."
That was probably true. The problem was that Ash knew exactly where his own thoughts had gone, and he didn't particularly like it. Ewroon shifted slightly, one arm resting across his stomach. The movement drew Ash's attention back to the scars once more. The assassin noticed. Of course he noticed. He always noticed. A slow smile appeared on his face, dangerous, knowing.
"Oh."
Ash immediately disliked that tone.
"Oh what?"
The smile widened. Nothing good ever followed that smile.
"You really are thinking about it."
The accusation landed far closer to the truth than Ash would ever admit. Which was precisely why he rolled his eyes and reached for the nearest pillow on the bed behind them.
The projectile hit Ewroon directly in the face. The resulting laugh echoed through the room and for some reason, Ash found himself smiling too.
Outside, the rain continued to fall against the windows. The storm had almost passed now, the rain leaving behind a steady rhythm that filled the quiet moments between them. Neither seemed particularly eager to continue the argument anymore.
Not because it had been resolved, but because they were both tired. For a while, the only sound in the room was the rain.
Then Ewroon spoke again.
"You know."
"What."
Ash immediately regretted letting him continue.
"I meant it."
A familiar feeling settled in his stomach. The same feeling he got every time Ewroon started a sentence like that.
"What did you mean?"
The assassin tilted his head slightly.
"About the mark."
Ash stared at him. Ewroon stared back. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed willing to look away first.
"You are insane."
The response came immediately.
"Probably."
That wasn't helping. Ash rubbed a hand over his face.
"Ewroon."
"What?"
"You cannot just say things like that."
The hybrid frowned.
"Why not?"
The fact that he sounded genuinely confused somehow made it worse.
"Because normal people don't offer themselves up to be stabbed."
"Oh."
A pause.
"Well."
Another pause.
"We're not exactly normal people."
Ash hated that he had a point. The worst part was that Ewroon didn't seem embarrassed or nervous. Or even particularly aware of how strange the conversation had become, he simply looked at Ash with the same casual trust he always did, as if the answer was obvious. As if there was no world in which Ash would actually hurt him. The realization made something uncomfortable twist in his chest. For a few moments, his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
"I trust you."
The words were spoken so softly that Ash almost missed them, the room suddenly felt very quiet. Neither moved, neither spoke. Eventually Ash laughed. A short, humorless sound.
"That's a terrible idea."
The hybrid turned his head toward him.
"Why?"
"Because you've met me."
That earned a smile.
"Ash."
He looked away.
"No, seriously, I'm probably one of the last person you should trust."
The words felt strangely easy to say. Maybe because they were true. Maybe because he had spent years building himself into exactly that kind of person. An assassin, a murderer. A man who solved most problems with violence and enjoyed it more than he probably should.
The silence stretched. Then Ewroon laughed, actually laughed. Ash frowned immediately.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you laughing?"
The grin remained in place.
"Because you're stupid."
That was not the response he had expected.
"Excuse me?"
"You think I don't know you?"
Ash opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Unfortunately, Ewroon wasn't finished.
"You think I don't know you're dangerous?"
"You should probably sound more concerned."
"I'm not."
The answer came instantly, without hesitation, without doubt, without fear. And somehow that was the most unsettling part. Ash found himself staring at him, trying to find the joke or the sarcasm. Trying to find literally anything that would make the conversation easier.
Instead he found complete sincerity. Ewroon knew exactly what he was and trusted him anyway. The realization landed harder than any accusation had. For a moment, Ash thought back to all the people who feared him. Those who respected him because they were afraid, those people who followed him because they thought he could protect them.
Then there was Ewroon. Ewroon who mocked him daily. Ewroon who ignored common sense whenever it was inconvenient. Ewroon who looked at a monster and somehow saw a person. A dangerous person, but a person nonetheless. For the first time in a very long time, Ash found himself at a complete loss for words.
For a while, neither of them spoke, the silence no longer felt awkward. Ewroon had shifted slightly closer to him, one knee pulled up toward his chest. His eyes were half-closed now, exhaustion finally beginning to catch up with him. Every so often Ash caught him staring into space, as though he was fighting to stay awake.
Ash closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired. Not physically but the kind of tired that came after spending hours being furious at someone only to realize you'd been terrified instead. Next to him, Ewroon looked as though he was slowly losing his battle against sleep. Good, maybe he would finally liege wie instead of talking about it.
Ash studied him for a moment. The damp hair, the scars, the exhaustion written across his face. The absolute certainty that if someone threatened the people he cared about tomorrow, he would throw himself into danger all over again without hesitation. Idiot. The thought came with an uncomfortable amount of fondness.
Without thinking, Ash reached over and flicked him lightly on the forehead. Ewroon immediately jerked upright.
"What was that for?"
"No reason."
"You're annoying."
"You're alive."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Silence. A strange one this time. Ewroon blinked and Ash stared very intently at the wall. For once, neither of them seemed particularly eager to acknowledge what had just happened.
After a few seconds, a small smile appeared on the hybrid's face. Not teasing, not smug but something quieter.
"Yeah,"
He said softly.
"I am."
Neither spoke after that. But somehow, for the first time since Dark Cucurucho, the silence felt like peace. Ewroon's eyes drifted closed again. This time, he didn't seem to be fighting it. Ash watched him for a moment before looking away. Good, that was the entire reason they had come here, wasn't it?
Liege wie.
The thought should have been amusing but instead, it left an uncomfortable feeling somewhere beneath his ribs. The hybrid looked exhausted, not just from tonight, not just from the panic attack.
Months of illness had carved themselves into him in ways Ash was only now beginning to notice. The dark circles beneath his eyes. The slight tension in his shoulders even while resting. The habit of hiding discomfort behind jokes. It had become so normal that nobody seemed to question it anymore.
How many times had that happened? How many nights had looked exactly like this? How many times had Ewroon laughed his way through the day only to spend the night terrified of things he couldn't even remember?
The questions lingered unanswered. Eventually, the hybrid shifted again, searching for a more comfortable position against the bed frame. One of his hands came up briefly to rub at his eyes before falling back into his lap. His movements were slower now, sleepier. The fight was almost over.
For a moment, Ash considered leaving. The argument was done, the crisis was over. There was no reason to stay. The thought lasted around three seconds. Then he dismissed it immediately.
Minutes passed, and at some point, Ewroon's head tipped slightly to one side. Then a little farther. Before Ash could react, gravity finally won and the hybrid's head landed against his shoulder.
Ash froze. Ewroon, apparently, did not notice, or perhaps he was simply too tired to care.
The assassin let out a quiet breath and settled instinctively toward the nearest source of support. Making himself comfy on Ash’s shoulder. Ash stared at the wall in front of him. This was ridiculous, he should push him away, move, do something. Instead, he remained perfectly still.
The minutes stretched. For the first time all evening, Ewroon looked peaceful. No tension, no fear, no jokes, no arguments, just a peaceful sleep. Ash found himself studying the faint rise and fall of his breathing. Making sure it remained steady. Making sure it stayed there.
The realization annoyed him immediately. A few months ago he wouldn't have cared. At least, that was what he told himself. Yet here he was, still sitting beside him, still watching, still making sure.
The island was full of people, friends, allies, members of the Régime, people who cared about Ewroon. And yet none of them had been standing in that field tonight, none of them had heard him say:
“Please don't let them take me back.”
Ash closed his eyes. The memory lingered longer than he wanted it to. When he finally opened them again, nothing had changed. Rain against the windows. A sleeping assassin leaning against his shoulder. The distant remains of a storm moving farther and farther away.
Ash remained where he was, his shoulder pressed awkwardly against the side of the bed, listening to the steady rhythm of Ewroon’s breathing. Every now and then he considered moving but every time he decided against it.
The hours passed slowly, at some point the storm disappeared completely, the darkness outside softened into the deep blue of early morning.
For a while, the only sound in the room was breathing. Then it changed, Ash noticed Ewroon shifting beside him, not enough to wake up fully. His brow furrowed and his breathing became uneven. A muscle in his jaw tightened. Ash felt his stomach sink.
Not again.
The hybrid let out a quiet, strained sound in his sleep. A few unintelligible words followed. For a moment he considered waking him but before he could decide, the tension suddenly left Ewroon's body all at once.
His eyes opened and the assassin sat perfectly still. Disoriented and confused. Halfway between dream and reality. Ash waited. Slowly, Ewroon looked around the room. The discarded clothes, the rain on the windows, the dim morning light. Then his gaze found Ash. And stopped, staring at him for a while, he looked genuinely surprised. Not dramatic, not exaggerated, just surprised.
As though he hadn't expected to find him there. As though part of him had assumed he would wake up alone.
"You're awake."
His voice sounded rough after hours of silence. The hybrid blinked, then glanced toward the window, toward the pale light beginning to filter into the room. A small frown appeared on his face.
"You stayed."
The words were quiet. Ash shrugged, the motion felt strangely awkward.
"You asked me to."
Ewroon stared at him for another second. Then another. Something shifted in his expression. Not amusement, not relief but something deeper. Something Ash couldn't quite identify. The silence stretched between them. Neither looked away. For once, neither seemed interested in breaking it.
Ash wasn't sure who moved first, maybe neither of them did, maybe the distance had already disappeared hours ago. All he knew was that one moment they were staring at each other, and the next Ewroon was leaning forward.
The kiss was brief, soft, almost hesitant. As though the hybrid himself wasn't entirely certain what he was doing until he had already done it. Then he pulled back. Not far, just enough. Enough for Ash to stare at him in complete silence.
For a second, nothing happened. The room seemed to freeze around him. Because suddenly every piece fit together. Dark Cucurucho. The jealousy. The anger. The panic in the field. The desperate relief of hearing him laugh. The scars. The promise. The fact that he had stayed. The fact that leaving had never truly been an option. All of it. Months of feelings he had carefully avoided naming suddenly became impossible to ignore. He did not feel confusion or surprise, just recognition. As though he had known all along and simply hadn't been looking in the right direction.
Ewroon was watching him carefully now. For once, he looked uncertain. That more than anything else snapped Ash back to reality, the idiot actually thought he might have made a mistake.
Slowly, Ash reached up and tangled a hand in the back of his neck. For a brief moment, Ewroon's eyes widened, then Ash kissed him. There was nothing hesitant about it. Months of frustration, fear, relief and affection crashed together all at once. Every argument. Every stupid joke. Every near death experience. Every promise. Every feeling neither of them knew how to put into words. Ash had never been good at talking, neither of them were. So he stopped trying. The kiss said everything he couldn't. The fear. The anger. The possessiveness. The relief. The simple, yet terrifying truth that the idea of losing him had become unbearable.
When they finally pulled apart, neither spoke. Neither needed to. The room was silent. Ewroon's forehead rested lightly against his. For the first time all night, neither seemed particularly interested in pretending they didn't understand what had just happened. They didn’t need to, both already knew what it meant and how it made things much more dangerous now for the both of them.
And somehow, that thought felt far more frightening than any nightmare. But he knew that he would never give up, and as long as his blade was by his side, nothing felt impossible to him.