Miles apart (Man × Man) ✔

5) b i a s e d

Despite what people often envisioned about Ash, for the sake of his gruff demeanor, he didn't condemn or distain people or their actions easily. Generally he didn't have strong opinions.

Except for two things. 

Ash hated small talk. If someone asked him how he was doing, he wasn't going to say "I'm fine, thank you." just to be polite. He didn't want to talk about the weather, because, yes, he could see if the sun was shining or if it was pouring without having to point it out. What he wanted was conversations actually worth having and not some meaningless nonsense.

But more than anything, he hated the rich. To him it seemed unfair that he had to scuffle with minimum wage, when there were people who could afford to buy yachts and eat fancy dinners at five star restaurants. The worst of it was that most of those privileged bastards didn't have to work half as much as he did to make ten times more than he did.

When Ash chopped onions for the lentil korma he was cooking for dinner, he couldn't stop ruminating on the conversation he had had with Miles earlier that day. He hadn't meant to be so harsh about it, but his built up anger had peaked when Miles paid for his coffee like it was something that came as naturally to him as breathing. 

Ash had been too angry to care then, but thinking back at the wounded look in Miles' eyes and the way he had stormed away, he felt a bang of guilt in his chest. 

"Dammit." Ash cursed when the knife slipped and he continued cursing while wrapping tissue paper around the bleeding finger.

He believed that the rich were bad people, that you had to be selfish to have all that money and not use it to help the ones who lacked it. The homeless, the sick, all the people who were suffering while the rich drove around in their fancy cars. If they really wanted, they could have ended world hunger, but instead they decided to bathe in luxury. 

When Ash was younger, he had to walk past a private school to get to his own. The sight of those rich kids in their uniforms made him simultaneously green with envy and frown with disdain. They didn't have to worry whether they could afford dinner or get picked on because of their holey sneakers.

Ash found bandaids from the bathroom cabinet behind an old fragrance bottle which had expired two years ago and was now just gathering dust. Once Ash's finger was no longer bleeding all over, he went back to cooking. With his mind millions of miles away, it was a wonder he didn't have more incidents.

Miles didn't seem selfish, and something told Ash he couldn't have been further from a bad person. Everything about him was just right: the sunny smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, the way he could make people relax and laugh more with his mere presence. His light brown hair, slightly overgrown and so soft Ash yearned to thread his hands through it all over again.

Ash was casual about sex, but he hadn't chosen Miles by accident that night. There was something about Miles' openness, the way you could instantly tell how nice he was, that guided Ash's feet to him. When Ash had seen Miles standing in front of FAB alone, he had thought: Why the hell not?

But a more persistent voice in his head had told him something else as well:
I want him.

When Ash had started cooking, his stomach had been grumbling, but once the food was ready, he wasn't the least bit hungry. He needed someone to talk to or he would explode.

He considered calling Eli, but he had a feeling that Eli had enough on his plate as it was. Steven would hit the nail on the head and then make a joke about it. Dam-Bi was too Dam-Bi and Javier Muños, Ash's friend from work, was also too Javier Muños. That left him with the Moore twins.

"Can I come over?" Was the first thing Ash said after Brandon picked up the call.

"Beer?" Brandon asked.

"Yeah." Ash agreed, already scooping the korma in a plastic container. He would have to save it for later.

"Shirley's here too." Brandon informed at the same time as Shirley yelled from the background: "I'm ordering pizza."

"Figures." Shirley and Brandon were inseparable, and even though they didn't live in the same apartment, they lived in the same apartment building. And, well, there was no saying no to pizza.

~~~

Brandon's apartment was hot around the year, and that chilly autumn day wasn't an exception. First Ash had to take off his jacket, then his hoodie, until he was wearing just a sleeveless top with his jeans. Shirley had tied her long red hair in a bun and she was wearing shorts with a faded Star Wars t-shirt, like one would in the middle of summer. Whereas Brandon, who was always cold, was wearing a thick forest green sweater.

"So, what's on your mind?" Brandon asked when he handed Ash a can of cold beer from the fridge. It was a cheap brand and it tasted like piss, but they were used to it.

Ash moved a stack of sketching paper and a pencil case to make room for himself and slumped to sit on the red couch. Shirley took her place on the opposite corner and took a gulp of her beer with a noisy "ahh". Brandon sat on the floor even though there was plenty of space on the couch.

"Miles." Ash stated simply.

"I love Miles." Shirley commented with a broad grin and Brandon mumbled some sort of an agreement before opening his beer can. "So, what about him?"

"We fucked." Ash began, earning a simultaneous "oh" from his friends. Then he concluded with a heavy sigh: "And I thought he was a nice guy, but then I found out he's rich. We went on a date this morning, we had a fight, sort of, and I called him spoiled."

"Not this again." Shirley huffed and rolled her eyes. Brandon just shook his head. 

"Well, it's not like I'm wrong." Ash snapped. "Have you seen his car? And he paid for my coffee like I was some pitiful charity case."

"So, you pushed him away because he has an expensive car and because he paid for your drink?" Shirley scolded him. 

Ash shrugged, leaning back on the couch. His grip from his beer can was too firm, and it let out a faint creak. They had had this conversation more than once, and he still couldn't understand why it was so difficult for Shirley and Brandon to comprehend his spite towards the rich. They were from a poor family and they too worked on minimum wage. They had been picked on because of their tattered clothes just like Ash. 

"I know it is unfair that some people are rich while the others struggle to get by." Brandon began slowly. His tone was appeasing, telling Ash he wasn't picking a fight. "But that doesn't mean the rich are automatically bad people, and you shouldn't ditch an otherwise perfect guy just because he's made money or is from a wealthy family."

Ash shrugged again, although he had to admit Brandon did have a point. He took a gulp from his drink, furrowing his brows. Brandon wasn't much of a talker, but when he opened his mouth, he had a tendency to find all the right words.

"How would you feel if Miles told you he doesn't want to go out with you just because you're poor?" Shirley asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I would think he's an asshole." Ash grumbled. Then, taking a gulp of air, he continued: "Shit, I am an asshole."

Neither Shirley nor Brandon tried to convince him otherwise, they just shared a look that could have meant something like: took him long enough.

Then the doorbell rang and Shirley got up to receive their pizzas, leaving Brandon and Ash in the living room. Brandon turned to look at Ash and asked him the question he was already asking from himself: "What are you going to do to make it up to him?"