Chapter 3 - Bobo / Fool #2
A right, then a short hall, then another quicker right.
This time they stopped in front of a brown door with an industrial bar handle, above which was pasted a big yellow sign saying "Staff Only: No Unauthorized Personnel".
A quick glance for the strip of blue tape on the left of the handle — check — and Dylan was pushing through the door and heading up the narrow flight of stairs.
"We're not gonna get kicked out of school for this, right?" Ashton asked over the echo of their footsteps in the cavernous concrete stairwell. "Because my parents would be pretty pissed if that's a fire door or something."
"Relax, fresa," Dylan told him, shoving open the second heavy metal door at the top of the stairs.
And just in time for a blast of wind to try and catch the peak of his mohawk, wonderful.
"First off, I'm Staff — " Kind of. " — and segundo: one of the professors in this building jerry rigs that door to keep the alarm from going off.
There's no cameras, and it's pretty much the only place on campus without something overlooking it, so they all come up here to smoke where the students can't see and report them for it. "
"Oh," Ashton said quietly as he followed Dylan out onto the building's roof, gravel crunching loudly under their sneakers. "You, uh — you bring Pablo up here?"
"Pavlo," Dylan corrected him, stressing the ‘v’ as he led Ashton near enough to the edge to see over, but not so close that they'd be spotted. "He's Ukrainian, not Hispanic." He paused. "At least… I think he said Ukrainian? His English is not so good, and our accents kind of clash.”
Ashton frowned. “How do you guys understand each other then, if you can’t talk?”
“Who says we talk?” Dylan leered, flashing Ashton an unrepentant grin. “He’s just a hookup, fresa. Not my boyfriend. I don't know what his deal is, and honestly? Given everything going on over there, there’s a good chance it’s more than I can handle and still stay on top of my own shit.”
“And me?”
“Aw, you’re easy.” Dylan winked. “You're just fucked in the head."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm serious man,' Dylan told him, gesturing out at the campus and city beyond. "Look where we are. Look at everything around you right now. Did you even notice?"
From the way Ashton's eyebrows jumped; how fast he twisted to follow the line of Dylan's hand? Yeah. He hadn't —
But he was now.
Below them, the quad was lit up like a pinball machine; the paths and fountain and statues all limned with a golden glow.
And in the very center was, hands down, the biggest damn Christmas tree Dylan had ever seen in his entire life; a big, gaudy monstrosity of twinkling lights and giant reflective ornaments, with red ribbon tucked abso-fucking-lutely everywhere else.
Even the buildings surrounding the space were getting in on the action; pale concrete and columns striving to imitate the past while shaping the future.
Beyond it all lay the midnight blanket of the city, with its towering skyscrapers of glossy black reflecting the light of the stars above.
Woven through were rivers and rivers of cars, all taking people to dinner, to shows, or back to their homes.
Free and unafraid to go wherever they wanted, to live their lives how they pleased.
Dylan caught himself rubbing the missing place on his left hand. Scowling, he relaxed his fist.
“The tree’s pretty with those lights, huh? Everything perfect, everything in its place. They said it was a new one this year. A donation from some company with more money than sense.”
“Navarro Media,” Ashton whispered, his eyes locked on the sight. “They own the San Morado Chronicle and Channel UBC31. The one with the, um, the 'Grime in the Ice Makers' guy? And, uh…yeah.”
“Pretty common last name, Navarro,” Dylan mused, watching Ashton closely.
“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. "So confused, in fact, that you tracked me down — at work, 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.