Archive of Our Own

If you’d asked Pablo in the past where he thought he’d be by now, he probably wouldn’t have said working in a ValueStop in some backwater Michigan town.

All things considered, it wasn’t that bad of a deal. The pay was what you’d expect, but he managed. The locals were friendly enough, if a bit on the superstitious side and not always the most progressive.

Honestly, the worst part of it was probably all the ghost stories. He doubted they had much truth to them, but you could never be too sure.

The most popular by far was the one about Ashy Slashy.

It was a pretty simple one; a classic, one you’ve heard a thousand times. Five kids about his age who drove out to a cabin in the woods, four who never came back, and the fifth who went crazy and did them all in, and then died as he was chased out of town for what he’d done. They said that his spirit still lurked on the outskirts, waiting for anyone who wandered too far into the woods. What exactly he did with those people, no one could ever seem to agree on.

Kids loved telling the story, which was to be expected. It wasn’t uncommon to hear them teasing each other with the old chant or giving their own spin on the tale. He’d also found that older folks liked using it to scare newcomers like himself. He was man enough to admit that he may have fallen victim to it once or twice. Or maybe four or five times.

In any case, he figured it was purely fabricated, some campfire story that had spread unintentionally, or an exaggeration of some old tragedy that many weren’t old enough to remember now. Either way, he figured it’d be wise enough to heed their warnings and leave it at that. Just in case, you know?

And then he met the ValueStop ghost.

The first time he saw him, he hadn’t even realized it. He was still pretty new and didn’t know all of his coworkers yet, so seeing a guy who, other than looking like he’d jumped straight out of the 80s, (right down to the outdated pre-merger uniform, which in hindsight, he really shouldn’t have overlooked) looked like any other average person didn’t strike him as odd. Pablo just waved, offering him a bright “Good morning!” and thinking nothing of it when he glanced around like he thought he was talking to someone else.

It was a little weird when he stared at him as he settled into the break room, but maybe he was just awkward. Or maybe he was thinking about all the ways he’d brutally torture and murder him for daring to talk to him. You never knew for sure.

Okay, maybe the stories had set him a little bit on edge. Just a little.

With only the two of them in there, the silent staring was a bit awkward. Pablo decided that breaking the silence probably came with minimal risk. If he didn’t want to talk to him, he’d know, and that would be that.

“Um,” he began confidently, and the guy straightened, full attention on him. He tried not to sweat. “I’m Pablo. You?”

“Ash,” he blurted like he was choking on the word. In a weird way, his bizarre attitude was almost comforting; at least Pablo wasn’t alone in feeling anxious. “Are you new here?”

“Like, at the store or in town?” he asked, then shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, either way, yeah. Never mind.”

On his part, Ash seemed unbothered by his awkward fumbling. “Nice. How are you liking Elk Grove so far? Started to go crazy yet?” he joked, and Pablo felt himself relax, laughing along.

“It’s actually pretty nice, once you get past all the creepy stories,” he said. “How long have you lived here?”

“My whole life and then some,” he declared proudly, patting his chest. Pablo thought it would have made some kind of sound, but he guessed he wasn’t sitting close enough for that. He took that as a cue to move closer, sitting in the seat directly across from Ash.

“That’s cool,” he said brightly. “And how long have you been working here?”

Ash leaned back, appearing to think pretty deeply about it. Pablo understood that; he wasn’t always the best with dates. Sometimes he forgot how old his uncle was until he did what was probably too much math to figure it out.

“About since I started college,” he decided. Pablo perked up, intrigued.

“Oh, you’re going to school? What’s your major?”

Ash laughed, “I’ve been out for years. But I was going for engineering.”

Pablo blinked. He almost squinted, not sure if he’d been looking at him right, but he figured that would be rude. He’d thought Ash would have been around his age; maybe a little younger than him, if anything. “Wait, really? How old are you?”

He took less time to think this time, but the fact that he had to at all was a little concerning.

“Either twenty-two or fifty-six, depending on who you ask,” he said.

His tone was casual, like it was a perfectly normal thing to say. Pablo expected his grin to shift—a laugh or something, but his face stayed the same. If he was trying to tell a joke, he needed to work on his delivery.

Instead of saying something about it, Pablo decided to play along.

“And if I ask you?” he prodded.

Ash’s eyebrows went up, before he started to laugh. It quickly died off though, replaced by an almost solemn expression.

“I guess I don’t look very fifty-six, do I?” he looked up, noticing Pablo giving him a strange look. “What?”

“You’re a pretty weird guy,” he said slowly. Ash didn’t seem to take offense to it, a little huff of laughter leaving him. Pablo was beginning to notice a weird feeling in his chest, something he’d been getting since the moment he walked in, but hadn’t thought anything of.

"If you don't mind me asking, though, what are you doing here then?" he asked, almost hitting himself the moment it left his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Ash questioned hesitantly, oddly tense. Pablo had half a mind to change the subject or just leave right then and there, but he'd already posed the question; he should at least try and explain himself.

"Just, I mean, if you're an engineer…" he tried to say, cutting himself off before he could put his foot in his mouth again. He gestured vaguely around them instead, which actually might have been worse. He kind of wanted to die.

"Ohh," Ash exclaimed, getting it anyway. He relaxed a bit, even as he still seemed uncomfortable.

"Yeah, no. I never finished my degree," he explained casually, but Pablo got the sense that he'd hit a nerve. "There were some… extenuating circumstances."

"Oh," Pablo replied awkwardly. Way to go, man. "Sorry to hear that."

Ash just shrugged, his brow still tense, but seeming otherwise unbothered; almost deliberately so.

It was then that the clouds blocking the sun, lowering in the sky, parted enough for light to filter in through the window behind Ash. If he weren’t suddenly paralyzed by fear, Pablo would have gasped.

As the light hit the man across from him, Pablo came to the sudden realization that he could see right through him. It lit him up in a way that almost made it look like he was glowing, golden beams breaking through the open slots of the shutters and drawing attention to the dust he could see floating inside Ash’s figure.

“You alright there, buddy?” Ash asked lightly, though his brows furrowed in concern. “You’re looking a little green around the gills right now.”

Hands shaking, he reached one out to touch him, to confirm that he was just being crazy, that the lighting was just weird, that–

His hand slipped right through.

All the blood promptly drained from his face.

The feeling only amplified as he realized that he wasn’t in the break room anymore. Or any room that he recognized, for that matter.

He felt himself screaming, though his voice sounded off somehow. His eyes focused to reveal the reason: what looked like a woman, heavily disfigured with peeling gray skin and milky white eyes, coming right for him.

With a shout that he knew was his own this time, he jumped back and found himself back in the break room, breathing heavily and staring at Ash, who looked properly annoyed.

“What’s with you? You go sticking your hands through every guy you meet?” he huffed, holding his shoulder as he rotated it, incognizant of Pablo’s terror.

He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was now covered in blood, mostly stemming from his head. Not only that, but he’d somehow managed to change out of his uniform within the few seconds Pablo had been… hallucinating? Gone? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was more scared than he had ever been in his life.

“You’re… you’re a…” he panted, but had to throw a hand over his mouth and rush to the nearest garbage can before he could finish. He clung to the rim of the can like a lifeline as he lost his lunch, and probably his breakfast, too. A cold sweat broke out across his body, leaving him shivering in place.

“Woah there, you okay?” he heard someone say behind him, and jumped, whirling around to face his not-coworker directly.

Pointing accusingly, (and maybe a little melodramatically) he shouted with a voice that trembled more than he’d like, “You’re a ghost!”

Ash blinked and then squinted, giving him a skeptical look.

“...Is that all?”

“Huh?”

Pablo was reeling, the world spinning around him faster than he could keep track of, leaving him clinging to the garbage can and waiting helplessly for the pounding in his head to subside.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Ash asked honestly, actually looking a little sheepish.

“No!” Pablo spat. “Why would I?”

Ash awkwardly scratched behind his ear, glancing to the floor.

“I figured you’d seen other ghosts before,” he admitted almost bashfully, gesturing one-handedly. Pablo hadn’t noticed until then that his right hand had gone missing somewhere down the line.

“What? Why?” Pablo demanded.

“Well, I mean… most people can’t really see me. At all,” Ash said cautiously. “I figured that had to mean something, right?”

“I don’t…” Pablo trailed off. He had a point, probably. He didn’t really want to think about that, though.

He stared at the ground, not wanting to see the grotesque, blood-soaked figure that now loomed over him. He hadn’t realized how tall Ash was before. A stupid part of him felt almost bad; it was pretty rude not to look at someone when you were talking to them. But that was, again, stupid, considering the guy he was talking to was a ghost who probably wanted to haunt him or eat his soul or something.

How the hell did this end up happening to him, anyway?

“So, I’m guessing I was wrong?”

He looked up on instinct, instantly regretting it. He couldn’t fight a slight wince at the sight of him, but Ash either ignored it or didn’t notice in the first place. Probably the second one. From what he could tell, it was a wonder Ash could even tell he was dead.

That was probably mean, but cut him some slack; he just found out his workplace was haunted.

“Huh?”

Ash leveled him with an almost annoyed look. “About you seeing ghosts. You’ve really never seen any others before?”

“No, not as far as I know,” he said, which was really less reassuring the more he thought about it. He hadn’t even been able to tell with Ash until the light had hit him just right. But, again, so not thinking about that right now. Or ever.

Oh God, ghosts were actually real. Ghosts were real, and here he was just having a casual conversation with one. What the fuck?

He pressed his hands over his face, moaning miserably. “I think I’m going crazy,” he cried.

“Been there,” Ash chuckled sympathetically.

The twisted vision he’d seen when he’d touched him (or tried to, anyway) suddenly came to mind, and it took all of Pablo’s strength not to start gagging again. He tried taking deep breaths, but the smell of vomit wasn’t really helping, not to mention the ghost that was watching him.

He dashed out of the room, hoping to make it to the toilets this time, ignoring the calls of his name from a voice that he just now realized had a strange echo to it.

As much as Pablo would have liked to quit right then and there, he unfortunately kind of needed this job. He couldn’t afford to move again just yet, and there weren’t really any better options than the ValueStop currently open to him nearby, at least not with his current skillset.

He supposed there was the hardware store, but the old guy who ran it wasn’t the friendliest from what he’d gathered the few times he’d stopped in there. He was still too new to really be in on the local rumor mill, but from what little he had managed to hear, he couldn’t really blame him.

In any case, it was fine. Or it could be, anyway. He’d just… stay out of the break room. Forever.

Unfortunately for him, Ash had other plans.

“Boo,” he heard a voice say in his ear. Turning to see a bloodstained man floating upside down behind him, he nearly jumped out of his skin, just barely managing to cover his mouth in time to muffle his scream.

“What are you doing out here?” he whispered, maybe a little too harshly.

“What, you think I just sit in the break room all day?” he tutted, shaking his head. “Housewares was my domain way back in the day. I just wanted to see how you’re taking care of things.”

He smiled innocently, turning right side up. He would have looked pretty unassuming, but the effect was pretty thoroughly ruined by the gore matting his hair and staining his clothes.

“Right…” Pablo said skeptically.

Unsure what else to do, Pablo just got back to stocking the shelves. He doubted his boss would accept 'I'm being stalked by a ghost' as an acceptable reason to go home early. Ash came over to float over his shoulder and watch what he was doing. It was a little weird, but he didn’t say anything else, so Pablo let it go. Ash seemed friendly enough, but it was still probably best not to pick fights with ghosts when he could help it.

For the rest of the day, he went through the normal motions almost unchanged, if a bit quieter and more tense. As unnerving as it was to have someone—let alone a ghost—hover over you for the entire day, Ash didn’t bother him even once after the initial scare.

At one point, he’d even forgotten he was there, starting to hum to himself like he usually did while he swept the floor. It had come to an abrupt end when he turned and made direct eye contact with Ash in the middle of a note, squeaking embarrassedly and staying silent for the rest of the day. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Ash had actually looked a little disappointed.

The only time he looked at him on purpose was at the very end of the day. As he was leaving, he turned to see that Ash was still following him. The ghost gave him a grin, moving to pat his shoulder before clearly thinking better of it.

“You’re not half bad, kid,” he said like he’d done something impressive. Pablo refrained from pointing out that he was pretty sure he was actually older than him—than he had been? Probably better not to think about it—and instead just gave him a quick nod in response.

From then on, Ash followed him around the store for pretty much every shift he had. He mostly just ignored him, and Ash seemed content enough to be ignored. He was probably used to it, what with being a ghost and all, which totally didn’t make Pablo feel sad or guilty at all. Nope.

And maybe every now and then, he’d direct his eye rolls at the behavior of his manager or certain customers to the presence over his shoulder. Sue him; maybe it was a little lonely around here for him, too.

And maybe when Ash started occasionally giving him tips to make things go faster or a heads up when a particularly annoying customer was heading his way, he took his advice. There wasn’t anything wrong with taking whatever help he could get.

Eventually, he had to admit it; once you got past all the blood, Ash was actually a pretty cool guy. In fact, Pablo would even go so far as to say he was probably the coolest guy in town, maybe the coolest Pablo’d ever met.

He’d just seemed to live so much in the short years he’d had, regaling Pablo with tales of teenage delinquency and college escapades that made him wish he’d been there himself. He wasn’t sure how much was exaggeration or how reliable a ghost’s memory really was, but Ash was fun enough to be around even now, so he didn’t doubt it too much.

Despite his brash and sometimes vulgar attitude, he was nice enough. Everyone in town was, but for the most part, it felt more like midwestern courtesy than anything else. With Ash, it felt just that little bit deeper; like he really had someone on his side.

It was the way that Ash was always so happy to see him, so eager to hear about what he was up to. And maybe it could be chalked up to the fact that he was, supposedly, the only person around who could actually respond to anything he said. Still, it was nice to be appreciated.

There was just one problem.

He was pretty sure his new ghost pal was Ashy Slashy.

It really should have occurred to him the very first time he saw him, but he was a bit too caught up in the whole 'there's a ghost in the break room’ thing to really think about it. Realizing that, if there were indeed ghosts in town, then there very well could have been truth to the old Ashy Slashy story had come pretty soon after. By the time he realized that there were a few too many similarities between the local boogieman and his ghostly partner in crime, it was a bit too late to just walk away.

He wanted so badly to believe that there was something he was missing, that there were actually two guys named Ash who'd lived and died young in the same small town back in the 80s. Stranger things had happened, to be sure. Hell, maybe it used to be a popular name, before… well.

He was sure if he just asked, Ash would have a perfectly good explanation ready for him, and they would just laugh it off and then Pablo could put the whole business behind him and finally rest easy.

But he just didn’t know how to bring it up. How do you ask the closest thing you currently have to a friend if they’re a murderer, even if you don’t really think they are? Ash, even as… challenging as he could be sometimes, seemed like just too good of a guy to do something like that. He didn’t want to seem like he was accusing him of something he knew he would never ever do.

But everything he knew about him lined up just too well for him to be able to trust that it was coincidence.

To be completely fair, though, the locals seemed to have a habit of getting the details of the legend a bit fudged; a lot varied from person to person. Most of the older folks said Ashy Slashy referred to an Ashley Williams, though he could guess that ‘Ash’ was probably a nickname. Given that a few of the town’s younger, less reliable residents also seemed to think Ashy Slashy was a girl, he could see why he’d prefer it.

He didn’t want to offend his cool ghost friend (and, admittedly, only current friend) if it turned out there was another, more murderous, possibly female Ash who died in Elk Grove in the early 80s, but he’d also rather not be unwittingly spending most of his time with the ghost of a serial killer.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, the opportunity was quick to fall right into his lap.

It was one night after another late shift. He’d been taking more of them lately, mostly an excuse to spend more time with Ash. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for him back at his apartment, and there wasn’t much else to do in town, either.

“Be careful getting home,” an older coworker (John, he was pretty sure) warned teasingly as he left. “Don’t want Ashy Slashy catching you.”

Pablo laughed along awkwardly, bidding him a good night. Meanwhile, Ash, who’d recently taken to occasionally walking him to his bike, (which begged the question of whether he could actually leave the store; he didn’t see why not, considering he was almost certain he hadn’t died anywhere near it) was quiet beside him.

Now or never, he thought.

Once they were far enough away that no one would hear Pablo talking to ‘himself,’ he finally decided to broach the subject.

“So, is there another Ash around here that I should know about?” he tried to joke even as he was sweating from nerves.

“What’s that?” Ash asked, seemingly having been preoccupied.

“That story. I figured it was just something the locals made up to scare kids and out-of-towners. Now I don’t really know what to believe, since ghosts are apparently real,” he clarified, looking at the clear night sky instead of Ash’s face. He idly wished there were more stars, though somehow, the empty sky seemed to suit the moment.

Ash didn’t say anything for a bit too long, prompting Pablo to check if he was even still there. When he turned to look at him, Ash was staring at him, eyebrows raised like he’d just said something exceptionally stupid.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“...Your first assumption was that there are multiple ghosts who just so happen to have the same name?” he questioned, squinting hard at him.

Pablo flushed, embarrassed.

“I was trying not to accuse you of anything,” he answered honestly instead of wasting time trying to defend himself.

“Well, good, ‘cause I’m no murderer,” Ash asserted huffingly.

Pablo felt his shoulders sag in relief, letting out a sigh.

“So you’re not Ashy Slashy?” he asked hopefully.

“No, I am.”

He blinked, stopping in his tracks. Well, okay. He’d assumed it was exaggerated, but not that much.

“But you never killed anyone?” he said somewhat skeptically.

Ash’s face grew contemplative. Pablo only got more nervous.

“Ash!” he gasped.

Ash held his hands up placatingly.

“It’s a pretty philosophical question!” he defended.

“No it’s not!” Pablo yelled. “Just give me an answer!”

“I need a minute,” Ash insisted, pensive once more.

“Seriously, you’re freaking me out!” he shouted, growing frantic. There was just no way.

“Calm down!” Ash barked, closing his eyes for a long moment; Pablo imagined he'd have taken a breath if he could have.

“Okay, I’ve never killed a person,” he stressed. The odd emphasis wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“What, so you used to hunt?” Pablo questioned, confused.

“Well, sometimes,” Ash conceded. “But that’s not really what I meant.”

As much as Pablo wanted to ask what the hell else it even could mean, at this rate they were just going in circles, and it needed to stop.

Sighing frustratedly through his nose, he suggested, “How about this—I’ll ask you some questions, and you just tell me if it’s a yes or a no.”

“Okay,” Ash agreed, though somewhat warily.

“Did you go to a cabin with four of your friends before you died?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ash confirmed.

“And the four of them died while you were there,” he continued.

“Yep.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Nope, that was later.”

“And you also didn’t kill them.”

“Ehh…”

“Ash!”

“It’s a more complicated question than you think!” he tried to defend.

“Just say yes or no!” Pablo demanded, ready to tear his own hair out.

“It’s really not that simple,” Ash said, and something in his tone gave Pablo pause, making him really have a good look at him.

Ash’s mouth was twisted down into a troubled frown, brow furrowed in deep contemplation. There was something in his eyes, something dark, and it wasn’t the kind of murderous drive or deep-seated rage he’d expect from a vengeful killer ghost.

Maybe there was something that he just didn’t know how to say because no one had ever asked before.

“How could it not be?” Pablo tried, still somewhat exasperated.

Ash thought for a moment more. He looked sharply up at Pablo, his gaze deep and intense. He swallowed, unnerved.

“Do you believe in demons?” Ash asked seriously.

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” he said truthfully, though confused as to the relevance. A thought occurred to him, and he blurted incredulously, “What, are you saying you were possessed?”

“No– well, yes, but that’s not why,” Ash replied, seeming to confuse even himself for a moment.

“Did a demon make you kill your friends?” Pablo stressed, somewhere between frustrated and absolutely terrified.

“No, but some did kill my friends and then try to kill me,” he corrected.

“There! Was that so hard?” he huffed, before what he’d said truly sunk in. “...Wait, huh?”

“Yeah, so it turns out that when you go to some creepy abandoned cabin because it’s cheaper than actually renting one, sometimes the owners leave behind their research about some ancient book that summons demons,” he said casually, almost humorously. Pablo didn’t think it was very funny.

“...You lost me.”

Ash sighed, frustrated.

“So my friend Scotty and I, we went down into the cellar ‘cause something down there was freaking all the girls out, right?” he tried to explain.

“Okay…”

“Well, while we were down there, he found this book and some tapes. The Necronomicon—that’s what the guy called it—was some kind of ancient guide to summoning demons or something, I guess. He read it off while he was trying to translate it and, long story short, he and his wife were toast,” he continued.

“Uh… huh?” Pablo nodded along, not bothering to ask who the ‘guy’ was.

“Well, the tapes were mostly just him explaining it, including reading off some of the passages. The same ones that did the two of them in. So, after we played it, weird shit started happening.”

“Like what?” Pablo asked, now intrigued.

“Like, my sister, Cheryl, she just went nuts. She was always kind of a wuss, so I’d figured it was fine, but…” he trailed off, expression growing dark. As he continued, his tone was suddenly much more somber. “Then she went out by herself that night, and came back all roughed up and screaming about how the woods themselves had attacked her.”

“What, like an animal?” Pablo asked, though he could wager a good guess at what he actually meant.

“That’s what we all thought too,” he agreed soberly. “But she swore it was the trees.”

“The trees?”

“Yeah. I still don’t really know what she meant, but… I had a pretty good idea,” he said, eyes growing glassy. He didn’t elaborate, roughly blinking the stormy look off his face. “Anyway, she started begging me to take her back home, or just into town. So I did. Or, well… I tried.”

Ash looked troubled, even more so than before, his voice carrying a wealth of regret and shame.

“What happened?” Pablo pressed.

“The bridge we’d crossed to get there was completely destroyed. We didn’t know about any other way through, and it was too dark to go looking without getting lost. There was no way out.”

Ash didn’t speak again for a long moment.

Pablo prompted gently, “And then?”

“And then, long story short, everyone got possessed, I kicked some Deadite ass, and the day was saved,” Ash said with a sudden burst of bravado, puffing out his chest proudly. Something about it felt practiced, plastic. Pablo wondered, then, how much of his usual confidence was real.

“...‘Deadite?’” he asked, bemused.

“Yeah, the undead. Demons. Evil. Whatever you wanna call it,” he explained almost dismissively.

Pablo sat with all of that, stewing over it for a few moments.

“So you’re saying that you killed your demon—or, I guess, Deadite possessed friends, and now everyone thinks you just killed them for no reason?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And those other… what, six?”

“The Knowbys and the hillbillies?” he asked.

“Yeah, were they possessed too?”

Pablo watched as Ash scratched his head, then started counting on his fingers. He suddenly stopped, looking confused, before he just shook his head.

“Not all of them?” he offered with a shrug.

Pablo put his head in his hands. How the hell did he even get here? It was bad enough that on his journey for independence, he’d only dug himself into a deeper hole than ever, stuck in a dead-end job in Nowhere, Michigan. Even worse was the fact that the only friend he’d managed to make was a dead guy. And now here he was, listening to said dead guy unconvincingly explain how he wasn’t a serial killer because of some book that summoned demons.

And the worst part?

He actually kind of believed him.

Maybe it was because of the way he was raised, the things he had grown up hearing from his uncle. Maybe it was because he was just too attached to the idea of Ash that he’d built up in his head. Maybe he was just going crazy from too little sleep and too many ghost stories, and none of this was actually happening. But, in the strangest way, what Ash was saying made its own sort of sense.

He groaned, long and loud. He really was losing it, wasn’t he? There was no way he actually bought any of this crap.

But looking up from his hands to see Ash, standing there and looking concerned in his own way, it just made sense. Ash was his friend, even if he was a little rough around the edges. He knew him well enough by now to know that much.

He took a breath.

“Okay,” he said, finally.

“‘Okay?’” Ash asked, brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I believe you, Ash,” he answered, realizing just how true it was.

Ash’s expression didn’t change, his eyes searching.

“That’s stupid,” he spat, suddenly enraged. Pablo almost jolted, unbalanced by the sudden shift.

“What?” he asked, confused. “Why?”

“You believe me? Just like that?” he scoffed, an almost cruel sneer snaking its way over his features. “Yeah, no way. I don’t buy it.”

“Yeah, well, buy it,” Pablo retorted, starting to feel fed up himself. It was a long day, he was tired, and now Ash was making this harder than it needed to be for no reason. “I trust you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is,” Ash said, like it should have been obvious. “I mean, come on, demons? You can’t be serious.”

“What, are you saying you were lying?” he asked.

“No!” Ash flinched, all his anger gone just like that. If Pablo didn’t know better, he’d almost say he looked scared.

“Okay,” he placated, holding his hands up in concession. “Then why shouldn’t I believe you? It’s almost like you don’t want me to.”

“Nobody else did,” he murmured, seeming so helplessly lost. Pablo felt a pang in his chest.

He thought about those legends, about the grim conclusion that most storytellers found themselves laughing at. Ashy Slashy’s untimely end, chased away by a vengeful town. The town he grew up in, had lived in his whole life. All his friends, all his family here, and none of them had believed him—had chased him to his death.

He didn’t know exactly how true it was. But looking at Ash, so uncertain, not knowing what to do with it when someone finally had faith in him, he felt like he was starting to get an idea of it.

“Then maybe it’s about time that someone did,” he offered with a solemn smile.

Ash just shook his head, not comprehending.

“Why?” he finally managed to ask.

“Because you’re my friend,” he said easily, like it was that simple. And it was, really. Ash was his friend, his best friend—maybe the best he’d ever had. That was probably a lot sadder than he was ready to admit. But either way, that fact alone made believing him almost a no-brainer.

Ash stared at him a minute longer, and for a second, Pablo thought he’d somehow said the wrong thing. Then Ash let out one breathless, incredulous laugh. The next thing he knew, he was cackling, and then he was howling with laughter. Pablo had half a mind to be concerned, not totally sure what was happening, but he couldn’t help but nervously laugh along too. He heard Ash snort, and then they were both doubled over, listening to their own half-manic laughter echo through the night, and the why didn’t seem to matter much.

“Oh God,” Ash finally managed to get out between chortles. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“You mean other than me being your only option?” he teased, prompting another round of hysterical giggles.

“Asshole,” he said without any bite.

“Dick,” he fired back. Ash stared at him in shock for a second before falling once again into helpless tittering.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before,” he marveled with a mischievous sort of glee.

“Sorry, I don’t really know why I said that,” he fretted, suddenly worried he’d offended him. It seemed like the stroke of boldness that had come over him was starting to wear off. Oh well.

“Nah, it’s true enough,” Ash snorted.

“What did you mean by that, though?”

“What, about you being an asshole?”

Pablo side-eyed him, unamused.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he muttered, looking cowed. “I guess I just meant that you remind me of someone, is all.”

Pablo was really starting to hate that sad look that Ash kept getting. It was strange to see it directed at him, like he was looking at him but seeing someone else. He’d been trying his best not to think too hard about how utterly alone Ash must have been before he came around for pretty much the whole time he'd known him, but had never really managed to fully put it out of his mind. It never really hit him just how long it must have been, though.

If he had his math right, it must have been about thirty years. That was a long time to go without a friend.

“Someone nice, I hope,” he tried to joke instead of saying that.

Ash’s lips ticked up in the smallest whisper of a smile. “Yeah,” he said simply, staring right past him.

“...Someone you miss?” he asked against his better judgement.

Ash shrugged, which was fair enough. As much as he loved talking about himself, they typically didn’t get this personal. Pablo wanted to keep talking, to figure out how to ask the right questions and learn all there was to know about him. But Ash didn’t really seem ready for that. He hardly seemed ready for the conversation they were already having, so for the time being, he let it go.

“For what it’s worth, I’d totally hug you right now if I could,” he offered sincerely.

“Yeah, well, I’d probably have punched you if you did,” Ash huffed even as his arms wrapped around himself rather conspicuously.

Pablo glanced up at the sky. There were more stars out here than there were in the big cities, to be sure, but still not nearly as many as there should have been.

“Hey, Ash?” he asked, earning a curious hum in reply.

“Can you leave here?” he asked.

“Uh, what?” Ash answered, seeming almost nervous.

“The ValueStop,” he rushed to specify. “‘Cause you can go in the parking lot and I’m guessing you didn’t die here, so I really don’t see why you couldn’t but–”

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Ash chuckled, cutting off his frantic rambling. “Yeah, I can leave. I just don’t really have anywhere better to be most of the time.”

“Oh. Okay,” Pablo replied, deliberating. He wasn’t sure if he should ask. Maybe Ash just wanted to be alone, tired out from all the talking they’d done. But if he were Ash, he’d be pretty damn tired of being alone, so it probably couldn’t hurt to at least make the offer.

“You wanna come with me?”

“Huh?” he questioned, glancing about himself like there was anyone else around he would be talking to.

“To my apartment. We could just see what’s on TV and sit around for a few more hours,” he offered. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like being alone tonight.”

Ash’s jaw just about dropped, and he floundered adorably for a second. Pablo fought down a smile as he collected himself; the last thing he wanted was for him to think he was making fun of him.

“Well,” he finally managed to get out, voice dripping with overconfidence. “If you really need someone to scare away the monsters under your bed, then I guess I can make room in my schedule.”

He was tempted to tease just a little more, but managed to hold himself back. He’d let Ash have this one.

“Really?” he asked instead, enthusiasm genuine even as the question was indulgent. “You’re the best, Ash.”

Ash smirked, but Pablo could see the edges of his mouth fighting to form a wider, more genuine grin.

“Don’t I know it.”