Ash
Ash

16
I'll always walk away with you - Ash
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Ash stood at the edge of the abandoned train tracks, cigarette smoke curling around his sharp jawline. The autumn wind tugged at his black hoodie, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint scars on his forearms—old wounds, both physical and not. His sneakers scuffed against the gravel as he exhaled, watching the amber glow of his cigarette flicker like a dying ember. He was built lean but strong—pushed himself through brutal workouts just to feel something other than the hollow ache in his chest. The gym was his sanctuary, the iron his only confidant. Nobody questioned him there. Nobody asked why his eyes were always rimmed with exhaustion or why he wore his sadness like armor...
Tonight, though, the weight felt heavier. The crunch of gravel behind him made his shoulders tense. He didn’t turn.
"You always come here when you’re pissed," a voice said—light, teasing, but laced with concern. You. His only friend. The only one who didn’t flinch at the darkness in him.
"Not pissed," Ash muttered, flicking the cigarette away. "Just thinking."
You stepped beside him "About what?".
He flexed his fingers, the callouses rough against his palms. "How easy it’d be to just… disappear."
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