i have something, i have something, a little boy just barely past ten years old tells himself, as he reads through old books salvaged from the blanctorche family's estate. you have nothing, you have nothing, a boy finally reaching the latter half of his teens looks in the mirror & is reminded of this one simple fact. he tells himself that makes it easier. he's always been quite good at lying to himself, just the same as he lied to others. when you're ash crimson, it's easy to pretend that ... "ash crimson" is someone else. he certainly doesn't hold that name close to his chest, not in the way people like betty or ruby do.

if i leave you to your feelings, i'll get stuck in my own head. it would be so easy to say, so easy to silence such a topic & pretend as if he only cares about himself. it's been easy plenty of other times, to plenty of other people, so why isn't it easy now? is it the way ruby treats him like he's not some mission ― some legacy to uphold? (i never wanted this mission,) some thing stuck between light & dark, (why is it my problem what happens to the world, to the people in it?) the past & the present, (wouldn't it be easier if everyone just left me alone?) blood & fate? (wouldn't it be easier if everyone just disappeared?!)

he can ask himself this all he wants, but he knows why. he knows he would burn his own hands with the light a dozen times over if it meant that he could return that shine to the eyes of the few people that are his. this is why, despite clearly being the right way to go in terms of carrying on this despicable lie, ash never tells her that she doesn't have to worry about him dying ― never tells her that she'll never lose him.

he will never lose her. that's what's important to him.

hopefully, though, the pain she feels will be quickly forgotten. hopefully, because he'll certainly never pretend to be merciful. he'll never pretend to be the prince that ruby treats him as with such a gesture as her lips against his knuckle, like a knight swearing an oath. (he supposes, in that way, it has become some sort of vow.) perhaps it's a gesture a true crimson would be more fond of ... things like him, on the other hand, are easily slain by a knight's holy silver blade. it may not burn like the pure light does, but it certainly stings.

he'll never pretend to be a prince, because princes aren't possessive like he is. princes aren't the ones who look at what they want & decide they'll damn whoever they need just to get it. but he'll indulge in some fairy tale where he isn't what he thinks he is. he chooses to try & see himself through ruby's eyes, just this once.

"je n'y crois pas! ... haha! well, consider me in-the-know of your feelings, now." he bites back every desire to bite, to chase away something that feels overwhelming. how can a fabrication be the most important person to you? how can a bat ever make proper company with a wolf's piercing howl? how can a fire touch a rose without burning it? ash puts his hands to his hips, just to keep them close to himself. (because it's easy to get invested in a story just the same as a person. because a wolf can choose not to howl if it cares about the bat. because fire won't always run hot enough to burn.) such affirmations fail as quickly as he decided to try them in the first place.

(i'm her best friend. she's my best friend.) that works better than anything else he's tried.

"but, you know, even if you lost yourself, i think you'd get found again preeeetty quickly." though his tone is humorous, it isn't meant un-seriously. nothing he's said has been meant as anything other than how he's said it ... but, of course he's well aware of how his attitude makes it sound. it's his own silent plead, don't pry into my own thoughts. "you have a lot of people who are fond of keeping you around~ ♡" (you have a lot of people who are fond of keeping you alive.) he knows, how heavy it is to be the last one remaining, the last one standing. he knows, how heavy it is to crumble under a legacy from both sides. ash knows a lot of things that he isn't sure ruby knows he knows. (like me. i want you alive.)

if ruby doesn't keep living, what does it matter?

his words do little to assuage her, but she smiles anyway. all smiles. it's all she can do.

i think you'd get found again pretty quickly. ruby doesn't know how to tell him she's felt lost for some time. it only gets worse as the days go by. as the threats loom in the distance, as it seems her team drifts apart again when they've never been closer. ruby doesn't know how to tell him she feels as if she's held together by chewing gum and washi tape on a good day. so she doesn't. she blows out a huffed laugh and one hand comes to rub at the back of her neck. recently shorn hair tickles against her skin. she's too aware of it. she's suddenly too aware of everything, but this isn't the place for that. “i guess you're right!” there's no hiding the forced chipperness in her voice, but there's nothing she can do about that. she's doing everything she can to hold herself together as it is. “sorry. guess i got a little too real there for a second. gross, right?”

she knows she can be honest with him. but the frightened little pup curled around her heart tells her that she's said enough. ruby wants to silence it, and tell it that she can talk to her friend whenever she likes. but it gives a pitiful little howl, and something in her heart twists, so she lets it give its mournful cry and she keeps silent about anything else she feels. it's for the best, she thinks, though she doesn't know why she thinks it. it's odd that she thinks it, when previously, she would have kept going until they were both overly uncomfortable with the displays of affections and emotion.

maybe she's growing, or maybe there's something afoot. she's too tired to care. she's too tired to worry. she will care and worry anyway, until she lays in bed tonight and falls into a fitful sleep.

“i...” what are you getting into? she wonders, what are you doing when i'm not looking? the same dread she'd felt the night beacon fell creeps in, but she tells herself it's unfounded. ash is ash. he does things as he pleases, with or without her. this is something she learned early on in their friendship, but something she has trouble reminding herself of now. her hand lowers from the back of her neck, and sort of hovers awkwardly in front of her chest for a moment. then, she reaches out, and brings it to gently touch her fingers against his cheek. “i know you're a big boy and can take care of yourself.” this, at least, comes out light and teasing despite the rising mixture of bile and anxiety threatening to overtake her throat. “but that doesn't mean i'm not gonna worry! you're my best friend. i'm always gonna worry about you.”

her gaze flits to her own hand. her nails haven't been properly maintained since before the tournament, and it shows. it's strange. any physical change he's made on her always disappears so quickly, whether it be her own nervous habits or her recklessness in a fight. the little wolf pup tells her it's fitting, but ruby can't fathom what about it is fitting if it's her own fault. she draws her hand back and crosses her arms over her chest before she can think too hard about something as stupid as torn nails and calloused fingers. she's thinking too hard anyway, and her head has started to spin with the effort made to make something out of nothing. she has nothing to worry about. she has nothing to fear.

yet... the little wolf's hackles are raised, and nothing ruby does can smooth them out. it's just nerves. it's just the way the world is, now.

“you'd tell me if you were in trouble, right?” she asks before she can clamp her teeth together and keep the pesky words from slipping out. silver eyes turn pleading. the desperation in her voice cannot be masked. “like... if you were in really bad trouble and needed me... you'd tell me? so i could help?” her voice gets weirdly thick when she's about to cry, and she feels it in her throat now. not now, not now. there's no place for her tears, because neither of them want to see them. she hugs her arms tighter to herself.

she doesn't know why this worry is so keen. she doesn't know why she's being plagued by thoughts of doubt when nothing is wrong.

what is important? it's a fair question, he thinks. what ash considers important is vastly different from what anyone else would. what someone else thinks is difficult, or worth effort, is something that he would face with a cocky smirk & a wave of his hand. it's a simple fact that ash crimson doesn't understand friendship in the way other people do. to him, it's a single, easily skimmed over bullet point on the list of things that are like that ― things that he feels dozens of millions of miles away from. it's not intentional, but it's hardly accidental, either. ash smiles with teeth kept straight by braces & holds his secrets locked behind that smile. it's all teeth, it's all cold metal.

what's not a secret is that he thinks fondly of ruby rose, however.

he has a tendency to insert himself wherever he wants to be, & go unnoticed ... like something that shouldn't exist where & when it does. something that time itself tries to ignore & reject, even in spite of his impossible to forget eccentricities. ash refuses to be forgotten by the present, refuses to be locked down by time itself ― &, in that, he finds something, even if not himself. in the people who don't remember where he came from, but remember the now, remember the high-pitched laugh & the sound of his nails clicking against each other in extravagant gestures. even if ash will be forgotten in the future, he finds himself content with the memories that he keeps in the now.

it's because of people like ruby, that that's the case.

ash knows how easily he could become jaded. how easily flames of green could give way to inky shadows & expose the void of nothingness that makes up his entire being. he prides himself on the fact he's never come close to such a thing, but he's well aware that such is only because of how he takes from others in ... less noticeable ways.

there is no such person as ash crimson, not in a way that correlates to the boy who parades that name around. but, that doesn't matter, does it? what matters is that this boy, whoever or whatever he is, is made part of the world by the people who make him part of it.

maybe that's why he's become so content with his fate, because the bad he has done & will do simply won't matter, at the end. there will be no legacy left behind, & there will be no memories that linger. he is his own time capsule ― so long as the memories are treasured by him, then they were worth it.

a quiet hum escapes puffed, glossed lips. & ash reaches out a hand to cup ruby's face, & swipe his thumb nail under her eye. it's a quick check to make sure there's no tears that threaten to fall. once he finds himself satisfied by his answer, he teasingly pats her cheek. "don't let yang hear you say that. ♪"

it's not comparable, & he knows that. he'd say the same thing to her, & that it wouldn't undermine betty in any way, but ash simply isn't the type who takes to very serious conversation well. (is it because he fears the holes in his self being exposed? being prodded like open wounds? who knows! even he himself isn't sure!)

"let's not talk like we're saying vows or professing declarations of protection, rosie." when his hand is brought down from her face to his own chest, ash finds his voice softening, even amidst his clearly playful tone. his intentions are kept tightly restrained by his own ribcage, & the feeling of his own hand against his beating heart is a reminder of what must be done.

even if it hurts, even if he's afraid.

"we'll have plenty of time to keep being important to each other," he lies, & it's as simple as breathing, so he feels no guilt. "don't get in your feelings with me, alright~?"

unlike mercury, ash doesn't pretend to care about her. unlike emerald, ash doesn't need to pretend to be someone else.

ruby worries in her heart of hearts that he's pretending anyway, but she will never voice these doubts. she will never give voice to the little wolf cub in the back of her mind that nips at her heels in warning. instead, she brings her hand to hold tight to ash's. she brings their joined hands to her own chest and holds them there for a long moment.

“it's almost like a vow, isn't it?” she says with a smile, and her tone is deliberately kept light. almost a joke. there are — were, at signal and beacon alike — jokes about them, anyway. who, what, they were to each other, and who they would grow into together. maybe there has never been anything romantic between them, but the love she feels for ash is something close to it. romantic and platonic are too weak of words for what ruby feels for ash crimson. devoted comes close, but even that pales in comparison to the green glow of his flame.

she loves him, plain and simple. what that means to other people doesn't matter, because she knows what it means to her. she knows what it means to him. she knows that when she brings his hand up to kiss his knuckles that it never has to be anything more than what it is.

ash weaved his way seamlessly into her life. that's all she knows, and that's all that matters. he's a stitch that she never wants to cut loose, embroidered into her heart, safe and sound. other people might not get it, but other people rarely get her, anyway.

“just— just let me be in my feelings for a second, alright?” it's pleading, now. a desperate need to cling to something real when everything has felt so disjointed and nightmarish since her world fell apart. “i know you don't like all this mushy stuff, and i don't either, but i never got to tell pyrrha or penny how much they meant to me, and they're gone — well, penny's back but it's different and that's really not the point here — and i... i don't want you to—” i don't want you to disappear too. i don't want to leave anything unsaid with you when there's so much i want to say to you. “i don't want anything to happen, and you... you die not knowing, y'know?”

there wasn't a risk of tears before, but there's a very real threat now, and she removes one hand from his to wipe furiously at her eyes before they can spill over.

“you're my best friend. you are the most important person in the world to me! and it's... it's different. from me and yang. just like it's different for you and betty, right? you know what i mean? like... obviously, sister, super important. but...” she lets out a breath that sounds vaguely like a frustrated sigh. she's bad at this.