IC CONTACT;

[moneyballer]

username: I CAN B UR DADDY

✉ ☏ 📷

Comments

[upshur]

Are you really going to make me drag it out of you?

[ He's handled tougher men than Asher; men who've held onto their secrets like bodies held onto their insides, who'd rather die with them than let some shit-talking journalist air them for everyone to see. He was good at gutting them then, and he's good at gutting them now. The answer he's given a good enough start, as Miles steps past Asher and runs the water from the well until it's clean and cool. There's a bucket nearby, and he fetches that to fill up.

Unceremoniously, he sets it down in front of Asher, and drags the man down by his wrists, shoving his hands into the water. His own hands slip into the water alongside Asher's, silently scrubbing into the creases of his knuckles and the whorls of his fingerprints. Blood's easier to wash out than most think. ]

[moneyballer]

[Clear water turns to red as Miles scrubs furiously at Asher's hands, his touch rough enough to make already bruised knuckles seem even more sore.

Asher closes his eyes in an attempt to quell the storm within his heart, letting out a sound that's louder than he would like it to be. His soul shatters into a million pieces as the emotions finally hit all at once, the guilt and self-loathing manifesting in the way his lower lip trembles. Sensitive in all the best and worst ways, he's never been able to handle death very well.

This time, however, it was his own fault.]

I'm a terrible person.

[Who is undeserving of anything good- Kindness, respect.

Love.]

I'm the worst.

[upshur]

[ There it is. Were he a betting man, he'd have put money down on Asher breaking in less than five.

He just didn't seem the type to be able to hold onto his emotions very well. The honest, earnest sort. Not callous, not yet. Normal. And while the guy chokes on his heart, Miles scrubs his hands clean. There's nothing tender about the way he does it, but there is a steadiness - something like steel in the set of his jaw and the distance in his eyes. This level of self-loathing means more to him than anything short of outright confession would. ]

You're not the only one on this team who's killed.

[ It's not the most comforting thing he could say, but he's shit at that sort of thing. ]

The only one who has any right to judge you for it, is yourself.

[ gj ]

[moneyballer]

[is he sobbing uncontrollably bcuz he just killed someone

or bcuz he just killed someone and knows he will later touch his dick with the same hand????

it's a mystery]

[upshur]

[ why are you such a fucking mess jesus christ







wait asher are you going to touch yourself to the thought of murder?!?! ]

[moneyballer]

[Asher's lungs draw in a little too much air; he wants to stop himself, to breathe.

Crying is a coping mechanism of his, although he'd much rather be alone when doing it. This is what happens when you pretend that everything is okay, when you ignore the blisters on your feet and the way your chest aches, all in favor of keeping a smile on your face.

Miles isn't being particularly judgmental though, which is much appreciated.]

I thought I was getting better.

[At fighting?

Or at being a good person?]

Please don't tell anyone.

[upshur]

Tell them what? You killed someone and then cried like a bitch over it?

[ Sure, he's not very judgmental, but his words are not any less harsh than they would be - were he talking to anybody else. There is an element of normalcy in the baseline aggression that feeds into his attitude, though it can be jarring to some. Especially if they're very, very sensitive.

He figures that Asher's hands are clean enough by now, and pulls his own out of the water, letting them drip dry as he balances his elbows on his knees. ]

You want to tell me what happened?

[moneyballer]

Shut up! This isn't normal. Not for me.

[Asher practically barks in response, even though he sniffles like a baby.]

I not supposed to talk about-

[He'd made a promise.]

All you need to know is that I went out on my own when I shouldn't have.

[Hiruma's name won't be mentioned. As far as Asher's concerned, this isn't his fault.]

Somebody tried to jack my shit, and then shit went down.

[He huffs, pausing for a moment, more somber.]

I can't seem to get anything right.

This just proves it. I'm a mess.

[upshur]

I can tell.

[ since you're absolutely shattered about it, dude. it's really disconcerting for miles, actually. ]

So, it was self-defense. You didn't just head out and decide to whack some asshole because you felt like it.

[ he figures it was the former. asher's too soft for assassination. ]

Yeah, you really are a fucking mess. You need a hug or something?

[ HE DOES NOT SEEM LIKE HE'S GOING TO GIVE ASHER A HUG IT'S KIND OF #RUDE ]

[moneyballer]

And what's the matter the with that?

[Asher perceives it as an insult.

More often than not, his emotions get him in trouble. They aren't practical, but they are real.]

Huh?

[This is his own version of bitter.]

Yeah, okay, I get it. I'm-

[Fragile.]

"Emotional" or "sensitive" and some people here think it's dumb or whatever, but I'm sick of people getting all up in my grill because I have feelings sometimes.

That's normal, for me.

[And as much as it hurts sometimes, it helps too.]

Eat shit.

[upshur]

[ "fragile. emotional. sensitive." listen, asher - you're the one writing your own callout post at this point, while miles is working on standing up. his knees are sore, and he really, really seems like the type of guy who has a lowkey passion for actually looking down at some people. despite the way that he's approached this conversation, he's not really giving off that vibe -- it's more like he pities the guy.

"eat shit", asher says, and a smile creaks across his face. it's not a nice smile, but he's not sneering at least. ]

There you go. That's better.

[ he doesn't know the circumstances beyond "self-defense" and "dead bastard", and he doesn't care to dig into this one. ]

I won't tell, since it's so important to you.

[moneyballer]

[Sadness gives way to anger, although it's gravely misdirected.

He's too bothered by the tumultuous nature of his own bleeding heart to be paying too much attention to the other's more nuanced posture.]

Why'd you come here, anyway?

[In person.]

What did you want?

[upshur]

[ such distress. very heart. wow asher. ]

To let you know Jin's okay. Since our conversation got cut pretty hard and fast.

[moneyballer]

[Asher's jaw hangs open in dismay as the gears click and whir in his fear-addled brain, connecting the dots slowly but surely.

Miles' voice had seemed familiar, not deep but hoarse and wiry, like his own soul had died in his throat a long time ago. Right, right, the person who called him in the first place-]

Oh my god.

[All this time, the younger man's head hasn't been on straight. Despite being touched and having his hands washed by the other, he's failed to even notice that Miles has two fingers missing.]

I'm so sorry.

[This isn't just some shitty teammate who tried to spook him, that much is clear, from the oddly kind way the other has been handling things. He isn't gentle or soft, but practical, and his tone has been stern but lacking in judgment.]

I...

[Asher is backing away now, guilt's filthy hands have seized him.]

I gotta go.

[upshur]

Are you fucking shitting me. Get the fuck back h--

[ HE CAME HERE TO LOCATE YOU, ASHER FANCYWHITEBOYLASTNAME.

Miles reaches out, one hand snatching at Asher's wrist. A snarl on his face, and unforeseen strength in his grasp. If he connects, he's going to haul Asher in - but if he misses, he's not going to make a second attempt. ]

[moneyballer]

[Miles' hand just barely misses Asher's as he scuttles away, too frazzled to really process what's just gone down.

One day, he'll be more grateful.]