Summer was coming to an end, but things were still incredibly awkward, even two months after the incident.

Ashton sneaked a glance at Phoenix, who was hunched down over some paperwork and completely refused to acknowledge Ashton’s existence. Whatever progress Ashton had made in bringing Phoenix’s walls down over the nine years they’d known each other, had all gone to waste due to a single bastard’s scheming.

Of course, Ashton didn’t hold Phoenix accountable for anything the man had done under mind control. Phoenix resisted for as long as he could; if he hadn’t, Ashton would have died that day. But it was hard to convince Phoenix himself that it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t his family’s curse raising its ugly head to destroy yet another thing he loved.

Ashton had always been good with cursed things. He tried to tell Phoenix as much, tried to convince his friend that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Once, desperate, he even put Phoenix’s hands on his neck to show, see, it’s fine, I’m not scared, I feel safe with you, please let me in. That did not go well.

Ashton didn’t freak out. It was nothing like that day; if anything, he was comforted by the skin-on-skin contact and the closeness. Back then, Phoenix barely looked like himself, his eyes empty, mind replaced by hostile will.

No, the pressure on his throat didn’t make Ashton freak out.

The same couldn’t be said for Phoenix.

He stumbled away from Ashton, as if burnt, his eyes wide and horrified. Ashton tried to apologize, but Phoenix suddenly went terrifyingly still and asked to give him some space.

Feeling guilty for crossing the line, Ashton obliged.

He’d left Phoenix to his own devices for the better part of the summer, making do with awkward small talk and occasionally asking mutual friends to check up on him. At least there were other friends – and if their words were anything to go by, Phoenix seemed fine with them, if slightly more reserved than was usual even for him. That stung a little, but Ashton was still happy Phoenix hadn’t shut everyone out.

What hurt more was that before the incident, Ashton had almost gathered the courage to ask him out. He’d sworn to himself, that as soon as the Phantom’s threat was eliminated, he would invite Phoenix over, cook him dinner and ask him if it was okay to call that a date.

He thought wistfully about the pages of scribbled recipes, the years of outings spent figuring out if there were things Phoenix particularly liked – he disliked greens, unless they were chopped small enough and soaked in sauce, couldn’t handle spice but found gentle fondness for ginger, preferred steamed meat over any other kind and discreetly gagged at anything too sweet. Those notes still laid, crumpled, in Ashton’s desk drawer, gathering dust.

The Phantom may have been defeated, but he’d managed to quite thoroughly ruin Ashton’s plans.

Ashton thought of everything Phoenix had lost, and his heart ached. He wanted to make everything better, but there was little he could do when Phoenix refused to even look at him.

Maybe they should ask to switch offices, Ashton occasionally thought. Get some distance from each other, from painful memories. It would hurt, but if that could make Phoenix feel less haunted, Ashton would have done it.

He’d never dared to ask, though.

Phoenix looked up and caught his eye before Ashton could look away. Phoenix ducked his head down, frowning.

“…sorry,” he said softly.

Ashton shook his head, “It’s okay. Really. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

He thought that would be the end of it, as it had been for weeks. But Phoenix balled up his fist and, with obvious effort, continued speaking. “I do though. I keep hoping it would go away, but it doesn’t. I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s fine,” Ashton quickly said.

“It’s not!” Phoenix’s voice was still quiet, but the frustration in it cut deep. “It’s not fine, nothing is fine.”

He took a deep, shaky breath and added, “You’re important to me. I don’t… it’s not fair!”

That was more than Ashton had gotten in a long time. Uncertainly, carefully, he pressed on, “What is not fair, Phoenix?”

Phoenix shook his head, and Ashton pleaded, “Please! I can’t help if I don’t know what it is that’s wrong.”

Phoenix kept looking at the ground, the line of his shoulders tense and hair casting deep shadows over his face, “It’s not something you can help with. My head is… all messed up. Every time I look at you, all I hear is his voice in my head, all I feel is my hands… hurting you.”

He turned away, a note of desperation coloring his voice, “I thought it would go away, but it doesn’t.”

Ashton bit his lip and tried to think of something to say.

He didn’t want to be the cause of Phoenix’s suffering, but avoidance wasn’t a way forward. Ashton could feel the hammering of his heart, the nerves making his whole body feel freezing, a million unimportant thoughts trying to make their way into their head.

No. Phoenix. He had to focus on him, help him come up with a solution. Everything else could wait.

“What if you don’t look?” he asked, and Phoenix blinked, slowly, several times.

“Don’t look?..” he repeated barely audibly, but said nothing more. Slowly and noisily, Ashton pushed his chair back, stood up and took a step closer. Phoenix tensed, but again didn’t protest.

“Like… this?” Ashton took another step and found himself right behind Phoenix’s chair. Seeing only the back of Phoenix’s head made it hard to read his responses, and Ashton asked, suddenly worried, “Tell me, is this… also bad?”

“That’s… okay?” Phoenix said uncertainly. He was half a head shorter than Ashton, but this was the first time Ashton thought of him as in any way small – he usually had a certain presence about him, the reserved confidence that belied his strength. Now though, authority in his voice was replaced with something small and hopeful.

“May I touch you?” Ashton asked, and after a moment received a small nod in response. Gently, he ran his hand up Phoenix’s shoulder, over his neck and to his hair. His second hand joined, and he rubbed slightly over Phoenix’s temples, ran fingers through his thick hair and massaged his scalp in the same way he used to do fo his mother.

After a few moments Phoenix sagged in his chair, eyes closed and completely relaxed in Ashton’s hold.

“Is this okay?” Ashton whispered, afraid to break the harmony of the moment.

“I missed you,” Phoenix exhaled instead of answering. “Gods, I missed you so much.”

Ashton chuckled. “Then you should have talked to me ages ago,” he chided not unkindly.

Phoenix hummed and, eyes still closed, reached a hand up to barely touch Ashton’s fingers.

“We can figure it out,” Ashton continued and stilled his hand to let Phoenix figure it out at his own pace. “Even if it’s slow, it’s fine so long as we keep going somewhere. Okay?”

“Okay.” Phoenix let his hand drop. “Are you sure this is okay with you though?”

Ashton had half a mind to make a joke about using it as an excuse to get Phoenix alone in a dark room, but what escaped his mouth was instead, “For you, I’ll wait as long as you need.”

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Phoenix turned in his chair and, still not looking Ashton in the eye, pressed the side of his head into Ashton’s stomach, an intimate, vulnerable gesture.

“Do you promise?” Phoenix asked, and Ashton used the hand in his hair to press Phoenix’s head closer.

“I promise. You’ve known me this long – surely you know I can be patient?”

He pulled back and leaned down at an awkward angle, pressing his cheek into Phoenix’s hair – not quite a kiss, but close enough.

“Surely you know,” he continued, “how much you mean to me?”

His back protested and he straightened up, and almost missed Phoenix mumbling, “…I’m glad.”

“Huh?” Ashton blinked. “Did you say something?”

“I feel like you shouldn’t… but I’m still glad you’re here.” Phoenix finally pulled away and turned back to his paperwork. “Your company is… always nice. And I can just be quiet together with you, unlike Dillon.”

Ashton smiled. He could feel the burden of that horrible day becoming lighter on his heart, and ran a hand through Phoenix’s hair one last time before returning to his own desk.

“You better get better soon, then,” he fell into his chair with relief. “I will have something to ask you once you do.”

“Oh?” Phoenix jerked to face him but stopped mid-way, still apprehensive. “You can’t ask it now?”

Ashton shook his head, “No, it’s for later. But I promise, it’s something nice.”

“Very well then,” Phoenix replied, and for the first time since that day, Ashton could hear a smile in his voice. “I’ll wait, too.”

—–

Lmao, this is actually pure sap disguised as angst. In my first draft Ashton did make the joke about getting Phoenix in a dark room, and Phoenix replied with a suggestion of blindfolds instead, but I ended up scrapping that exchange because I felt it didn’t really fit the mood…