“Yeah,” Ashton said from off somewhere very far away, throat flexing as he swallowed hard.
"Don't come across many of them with a first name like Ashton though."
"…Yeah," Ashton replied softly.
“Shame,” Dylan blew out a breath; ostensibly focused on the tree, though fully aware Ashton’s eyes had landed squarely on him. “In a month, that tree will be forgotten; locked away in storage, kept waiting in the dark until it’s time to be trotted out and tarted up again next year. Me, I think I’d rather be a real tree. Out somewhere in the sun and wind, with an entire forest of other trees around me; all of us just going about our lives. And maybe no one stops and stares, or takes a photo of us. But then, there’s no one expecting anything of you either, telling you how you’re ‘supposed’ to grow.”
“…Yeah,” Ashton murmured so quietly, Dylan had to strain to hear.
They stood in silence like that for a while, both watching the red stream of cars ebb and flow. There was a burst of laughter somewhere on the quad beneath their perch, loud enough that the sound bounced between the buildings.
"So what made you go up there that night looking for me, huh, Mr. Straight Guy?" Dylan finally asked, tilting his head to watch Ashton’s reaction.
Ashton… glanced down at his shoes.
Dylan looked down too. But he didn't see anything special there, bringing his eyes back up to Ashton's face again instead.
"I just…" Ashton's voice was low, almost small.
Dylan matched it, trying to be encouraging as he prodded. "Yeah?"
"I was just…confused about — about it all," Ashton said.
"Uh huh," Dylan replied doubtfully. "Soconfused, in fact, that you tracked me down — atwork, asshole — then followed me into the bathroom and all the way up here to…what? What are you doing, Ashton? What made you come find me?"
"I… I'm not sure," Ashton whispered.
Dylan rolled his eyes.
"¡No manches, Bobo! For someone so smart, you're really fucking stupid," Dylan muttered, before grabbing either side of Ashton's head and yanking him down into a kiss.
