<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 22px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffa64d">Silence is Golden</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 12px">~ <a class="username" data-user-id="69" data-username="@Torrential" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/69/">@Torrential</a> &amp; <a class="username" data-user-id="25" data-username="@Nevermind" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/25/">@Nevermind</a> ~</span><br/>
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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Ash Vicario</span></span>
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</div></div>The afternoon sun beat down on Ash's body as he stepped out of the eight year old cobalt blue sedan his father had gifted him for his seventeenth birthday. It was used, sure, and the carpeting in the passenger's side backseat was worn out and torn in places, like someone had continuously ground their heel into the floor habitually, perhaps anxiously, not caring for the minor damage they were inflicting on the innocent vehicle. But Ash didn't mind much; the car was reliable and got him where he needed to go, and it was no better or worse than any of the other kids his age had, save for perhaps some of the more privileged ones. He slammed the car door behind him and hiked his backpack up onto his shoulder, heavier today than usual as two sets of books were shoved inside, weighing the bag down.<br/><br/>Ash wasn't completely sure what had happened to Miles; a few days had passed at school before any information had come filtering through, and even then it had been only whispers and rumors passed throughout the students like an airborne disease. Ash had remained mostly quiet through all of it, shrugging his shoulders whenever the topic came up. He didn't have any information on why Miles had suddenly stopped coming to class, so why should he bother adding to what was bound to be 99% misinformation and conjecture?<br/><br/>Emily Christensen had said she heard Miles had come down with a case of some extremely contagious illness, one whose name eluded her but she was sure was fatal. Maybe he only had a few weeks left before he kicked the bucket.<br/><br/>"That's the stupidest thing you've said today," Ash had replied, staring blankly at his phone and scrolling through various apps and photos he couldn't have cared less about. "If Miles had some crazy disease, the school would have told us. You know, exposure notices and all that? They'd be obligated to warn parents in case any of the rest of us were sick, especially if it was some dangerous terminal illness floating around. It's not that."<br/><br/>Pedro Valencia and Habiba Nazari traded stories about how Miles had gotten hurt real bad in a fight, maybe broken some bones, even. But there was no information on whom he had fought with or why, so it was, again, simply conjecture, and Ash wasn't interested in tall tales.<br/><br/>Ash and Miles had known one another for years, although sometimes they each could get wrapped up in their own shit and allow a few days to pass by without getting in contact with one another. This was rare, though, and the two boys typically kept in touch as much as was possible for teenagers who usually resided at the edges of their high school's arbitrary social circles. If one were to analyze their relationship, some might say it didn't make a whole lot of sense. Miles had a tendency of being childish and acting out at times, at least when he was in a bad mood. When he was happy, he was cheerful, if a bit naive, which contrasted greatly to Ash's typical cerebral demeanor. But Ash liked those things about him. When he was with Miles, there wasn't much pressure to impress or engage in things he had no interest in. Miles had always just accepted Ash for who he was, and the young man appreciated that. This lead to their friendship flourishing even when others fell by the wayside.<br/><br/>He was relieved when Miles finally texted him, asking if he could stop by and bring some of his homework over as he didn't think he would be back at school for a while. Ash didn't bother to ask questions; he figured whatever he needed to know he could inquire face to face. It would be the best way to weed out all of the bullshit that had been floating around campus and find out what really happened, as Ash<i>was </i>still curious.<br/><br/>He stepped up the walkway and knocked heavily on the front door. Ash had been to Miles' house only a handful of times; usually when they wanted to hang out they went somewhere, anywhere. It didn't matter. Spending time at home was never really part of the plan. He hiked his backpack up again, eager to offload Miles' shit and give him his list of assignments. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he stood in the direct sunlight. He ran a hand through his dark blonde hair, trying to recall whether Miles' home had air conditioning or not. He hoped so. His clothes were damp and sticking slightly to his back, and all he could think about was taking them off and throwing himself into a nice, refreshing pool. Something, anything to settle his overheated body.