high rise hearts ☆ lifesteal smp au

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 ✦

𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲: angst (no revival au)
𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽𝘀: swagdoons (but it's ONESIDED >:D)
𝘁𝘄: n/a
𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: n/a (sorry i messed it up)
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁: the simple tale of two criminals on the run- except one's head over heels in love

─── ⋅☆⋅ ───

𝐏𝐎𝐕: reddoons

The casing that was their one bedroom apartment, though made of rather thin drywall, was rather efficient at muffling the clamor of the street outside. On a normal day, Redd would have been thankful for it. Today, it felt too quiet- noise was life, in a way, and to hear nothing was to suck the spirit out of a place.
Not like this place ever had a spirit, by the looks of it. Dust and mold collected in every untouched, forgotten corner. Grime collected over the windowpanes, forming a thin film of gray that muted the sparkling lights of buildings far grander than theirs. The one mattress he and Ash had to share was uncomfortably lumpy and carried several mysterious stains.
But he didn't mind, and there was reason why- he doubted he had a spirit, either.
No- he'd already traded away whatever was left of his soul, handed it over with not a second thought, forged a deal with the devil. And you know what? Ash could keep it, if it meant he could be here now. He could keep everything, actually- all Redd really needed was to look at his face when he woke up in the morning. That was enough, more than enough.
What are the chances he likes you back? A traitorous voice whispers from the back of his mind, a place he has tried so hard to shut away yet still emerges from time to time. He doesn't, idiot. Lovesick fool.
He has long since given up on hushing them. He lets them taunt him, fill up the stifling quiet with their jeers and catcalls. It sounds slightly more lively now, at the very least. The voices keep him company, distract him from his loneliness.
He looks over at Ash, lying in the fetal position at the opposite end of the mattress. His chest rises and falls so slowly and shallowly he could pass for dead if Redd hadn't known better. They have an unspoken policy of keeping to one side of the bed at all times, but at that moment all he wants to do is curl up beside him, feel those arms wrapped around him, tangle himself with Ash until he doesn't feel like an individual anymore, just an amalgamation of what they both are. Like that'll ever happen.
The oppressive silence is shattered by the rustling of the thin blanket. It always starts with both of them getting equal coverage, but then at some point during the night Ash always manages to pull it off him. He doesn't mind, truly- he can keep himself warm, Ash probably needs it more. He can have the blanket. (He could have everything, Redd would gladly present his heart on a golden platter if that's what it took.)
Ash rolls over to face him, lanky figure cloaked in the faded blanket, purple eyes sparkling like polished amethysts in the inky semi-darkness. Those gemstone eyes catch him in some sort of trance, and he finds he's staring before he can realize it, swimming ever deeper into the lavender sea, water filling his lungs but he didn't care if he was drowning.
Ash mentions it first: "Wow, not even a 'good morning, Ashswag.' Why are you staring at me?"
"I-" He pauses before he can say anything stupid- the last thing he wants is to make a fool of himself in front of Ash. "Just waiting for you to say somethin'. Oh, and- today's the big day."
"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Ash shoves his hand into the rumpled pocket of his suit- he always wears the suit, Redd's starting to think he doesn't own any other clothes- and pulls out his phone. The light of the Calendar app illuminates every contour of his face, and Redd slowly traces each glowing outline in his mind while Ash scrolls and doesn't look at him.
"So... what's the plan?" Redd finally asks. The words have to fight their way out of his throat, over things such as Did you sleep well? and How are you? He doesn't have time for those things, but he can't seem to stop himself from imagining he does. If only.
Ash pulls up something on his phone and starts reciting lines, a script Redd is already all too familiar with. They've discussed it a thousand times before, so it feels like whenever he asks, it's just an excuse to hear Ash's voice. Maybe it is.
"Dude, are you even listening?" He starts at Ash's hand being waved in front of him. The other man has sat up and is leaning towards him, thin fingers being shaken inches from his face. So close- his heart leaps upward and catches in his throat at the thought, barring any sort of response from exiting his mouth.
"Hellooo? Earth to Reddoons- you can't be zoning out when we do this, you know?" Ash slaps him lightly on his arm, and Redd scrambles to find his voice again, trying to ignore the light sting of what isn't quite pain where Ash had touched him.
"Yeah. Yeah, I won't." He clears his throat, tries to restart his train of thought, feels it skidding out-of-control, teetering on the tip of derailment, balancing on the brink of crashing and killing him. "So, what were you saying?"
And Ash starts from the beginning, accented voice droning on through the early morning like the birdsong the big city lacks, and Redd finds all he can hear are those voices again, telling him things like this were never meant to be, that something must be wrong with him for wanting this. Maybe they're right, but it doesn't stop him, it can't stop him, it never will. Shut up, he tells them, SHUT UP-