Macey's wasn't unfamiliar to Ash, and the tall boy nodded as he leaned forward on Miles' bed, resting his elbows on his friend's blankets and his chin in the palm of his hand as he listened to Miles talk. Miles was a favorite down at Macey's, partially because he was always very consistent in paying off his usually high tabs, but mostly because the bartenders all just found him endlessly amusing, especially when he started to get a little drunk. Ash rarely ever let himself go too much, perferring to keep a somewhat firm grip on his own sobriety so he could keep Miles from getting into any trouble. It had worked well in the past, and the two boys had always managed leave Macey's in good spirits. Ash had even turned down propositions from a few of the female bartenders, one a particularly pretty blonde woman in her late 20's named Anne Marie, just so he could ensure Miles got home safely. Because of their history with Macey's, Ash was somewhat put off when Miles told him he had been there drinking with “new friends.”<br/><br/>“I see,” Ash replied simply, his neutral look morphing into a dissatisfied frown as Miles pushed along in his story, refusing to linger on the awkward confession. Though it was extremely selfish of him, he had always liked that Miles considered Ash his only “real” friend. Sure, they had a group they hung out with during lunch sometimes, and whenever anyone invited Ash out to a group activity, it was assumed Miles would be tagging along. He shouldn't have wanted to keep Miles all to himself, but he did, and thinking that the boy had gone to<i>their</i>spot without him put a bad taste in Ash's mouth, but he kept his tongue still and didn't comment on it, only listened as Miles ran his mouth.<br/><br/>“That's idiotic,” Ash replied bluntly, shifting in an agitated manner on the floor as Miles nervously fiddled with his bed sheet. “I've told you a million times I hate studying. I'd would've come out if you'd just asked.” It wasn't a lie. Ash was enrolled in several advanced classes, all for extra university credits that fast tracked him toward graduation, all more laborous than the standard shit Miles had to endure. Despite his impressive class schedule, Ash wasn't a particuarly studious individual, preferring to get by on his own natural intelligence than any kind of hard work. Miles was a fun distraction from his textbooks. Usually, anyway.<br/><br/>“Why would they be offering<i>you</i>free alcohol?” Ash scoffed, once again irritated by Miles' story. “Sounds like they were prepping you for some burly gang rape.” He had said the words facetiously, another attempt at making Miles uncomfortable, but the moment the words left his lips he regretted them. Miles didn't remember anything else. It looked like Miles had just gotten into a fight, but what if something... else had happened? No, no, there was no possible way. Miles wouldn't be so willing to share if something like<i>that</i>had happened. And he'd know, even if he couldn't remember, he'd know. Wouldn't he?<br/><br/>“Back alley?” Ash's curious voice was softer now, less irritated as he gave the rest of Miles' story careful consideration. He recalled seeing a news report on the television a while back of a murder having been committed in Macey's back alley. His father had pointed it out to him while he was sitting in his favorite armchair, drinking some cheap beer.<br/><br/>“Isn't that where you and that little friend of yours go?” Máximo Vicario had said, his strange muddled accent tearing Ash's attention away from a book he had been reading on the couch. Ash's grandparents had emigrated from Spain when his father was young, and as a result the man had grown to have a strange mash of accents, with awkward tinges of Spanish piercing through a Scottish lilt. Ash had only shrugged his shoulders, mildly interested in the crime, but not so much that he actually wanted to discuss it with his dad.<br/><br/>“Sometimes. We haven't gone in a while,” he had claimed, which Ash had thought true at the time. Apparently Miles was venturing out without him, and now the pieces were falling into place. The timing was right, he realized, for Miles to have been there during the murder. And he said he didn't remember<i>anything</i>else. Miles hadn't been a piece of that mystery... had he?<br/><br/>Miles' voice was pulling at him again, and Ash looked as the boy began digging through his backpack. “Yeah, I'm a freakin' angel,” Ash said plainly, staring at Miles' face as the boy flipped through the textbooks, looking like he was about to puke. He then pulled out Ash's copy of<i>Crime and Punishment</i>, scoffing as he boredly scanned the pages.<br/><br/>“Hey, just because you like to live the life of an uncultured barbarian, doesn't mean we all do,” Ash snapped back, resisting the urge to snatch the book from Miles' hands. Maybe actually touching a book would do the young man some good. Some kind of literary osmosis would magically occur and make him not such a twit all the time.<br/><br/>“It's a good book. If you looked at anything other than porn mags and spent your day<i>not</i>rubbing your cock raw, maybe you would be doing something impressive with your life, hm? You think I waste my time being hard and cumming all over everything?” Ash's implication was half true. He masturbated sometimes, once or twice a week, but he preferred fucking if given the opportunity, and had a few classmates saved on his phone for such needs. He hadn't shared that information with Miles, however, though he sometimes suspected Miles knew more about Ash's sexlife than he let on, even if Miles only received his information through school rumors.<br/><br/>Ash could hear the shower off somewhere in the house, perhaps down the hall where the master bedroom, Casper's bedroom, was located. He remembered the strong lines of Casper's collarbone and cleared his throat, willing himself to think of something other than Miles' sweaty, attractive father. It only half worked.<br/><br/>“Your dad is funny,” he said slowly, wiping at his forehead. It was hot in Miles' room. How did he stand it, being all bandaged up and underneath the blankets? “A little odd, but I guess that makes sense considering he managed to squirt you out of his balls, eh? And imagine, out of the hundreds of sperm he pumped out, you're the one that won. Amazing.”<br/><br/>Ash stood, pushing himself away from Miles' bed and wandering over to the window, staring out of it absentmindedly. He was warm, so he lifted up the hem of his shirt, exposing the hard lines of his abdomen as he wiped at the sweat before it trickled into his eyes. “It feels like Satan's taint in here,” he spat. “You guys got an air conditioning unit in the house I can turn on for ya? Or a fan I can get? You must be hot. I'd hate to be you, sitting there immobilized and sweating my testicles off.”