And all year. Several years. Ever sinceheleft, and —
"Why?" Ashton finally got out, his dry throat making his voice sound strained.
"Yeah." Dylan rolled his eyes. "That's what I’m asking."
"No, I mean…" Ashton looked away as he clenched his hands, his fingers numb and cold with old fears. "Why'd you say all that? About — "
"About youmaybebeing gay?" Dylan asked, eyes wide and incredulous. "Because I was messing with you, dip shit. I was bored, and stuck in that closet, and you were being an ass. You really think I care if you are or aren't? Because —Hello! Wake up!— I don't."
"Oh." Ashton's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, trying to make the jumbled snarl in his head make sense. That couldn't be disappointment he felt, but strangely, it felt nothing like relief either. "I didn't know if, like… I mean,obviously, I'm straight. But if I'm giving off a, uh — a sense…"
"Your giant 'Insert cock here' tramp stamp's a bit garish for my taste, I'll admit," Dylan shrugged. "But you aren't pinging some kind of gaydar, if that's what has your nips in such a twist."
Alright, andtherewas the relief — so strong it made the room spin around them as Ashton shoved those old, taunting little voices down.
"Look," Dylan said with a sigh, and Ashton bristled at the pity woven so heavily through it. "It was just a kiss. It doesn’t have to be this serious. But are you really gonna chase me all the way uphere, then try and tell me you weren't into it? I was there,güey. Your tongue was in mymouth, and it was hot."
The deflection died before it could form. Ashton's lungs stuttered as the hard press of lips ghosted against his own, swallowing up even the chance of a rebuttal; leaving his throat dry, barren of any lies he could fling back in his defense.
"This is stupid," Ashton finally muttered instead, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I'm not here to play games with you."
"Then stop." Dylan huffed. “Why are you so afraid?”
Why was he afraid?WHYwas he afraid? Ashton wanted to laugh from the absurdity, to cry, to scream, to grab Dylan by the ears and haul him close and —
He swallowed, old habits and even older lessons stealing all his words.
"I don't get you, Ashton," Dylan said, shaking his head. "You have everything, and it's all fucking handed to you! Why do you act as if you can’t have this too? Man, aren't youtired?"
Ashton flinched as the question sank deep enough to hit bone.
"C'mon," Dylan said, throwing the paper towels in the trash and grabbing Ashton's hand. "Wanna show you something upstairs."
"Upstairs? But we're on the top floor," Ashton pointed out, confused and still reeling a good five minutes behind.
But — and this was the terrifying bit — he didn't let go of Dylan's hand as he led them out of the men's and down the hall.
"Well, there's the top," Dylan conceded, flashing Ashton a mischievous grin. "And then there's thetopisn't there?"
And with Dylan's hand still in his, Ashton followed on.
A right, a short hall, then another quicker right; Dylan's hand a reassuring presence the whole way. One Ashton couldn't admit he wanted anymore than it was one he'd known he needed; an anchor, proof this wasn't some weird dream. The press of those fingers fit around his own like a lifeline, firm and —
And somehowsafe.
It shouldn't be. Oh Good God in Heaven, Ashton knew it shouldn't be. Everything about Dylan was a warning; from his hot pink mohawk to his sharp tongue, from his 'fuck you' attitude to the fact that he was so confidently, openly, stunningly comfortable being —
Gay.
He was dangerous, and beautiful, and unafraid to tell the world exactly what he thought of it — and utterly unlike Ashton, who was beginning to fear he might follow Dylan anywhere he led. And if that 'fuck you' attitude of his turned out to be more than pure bravado?
Just how far are you willing to go?
There was no other answer than the sound of their footsteps on the abandoned, dimly lit institutional tile floor. In hindsight, he supposed that should've been answer enough.
This time they stopped in front of a brown-painted door with an industrial bar handle, above which was pasted a big yellow sign saying "Staff Only: No Unauthorized Personnel". Dylan hesitated only a moment, as if looking for something, before pushing through the door and taking them up the narrow flight of stairs.
"We're not gonna get kicked out of school for this, right?" Ashton asked over the echo of their footsteps in the cavernousconcrete stairwell. "Because my parents would be pretty pissed if that's a fire door or something."
