.

.

Eiji doesn't remember coming from Japan to this airport in New York. It seems to be located closer to the bay, with its shallow and dark turquoise waters shimmering through the clear-glass windows nearby.

He stares with mild interest, accidentally bumping into Ibe hauling luggage and mumbling over his passport. The crowds are thinner and the floors are shine-white underneath the flecks of dirt and blackened scuff-marks. Ash's candy-red sneakers hardly make any noise as he walks silently alongside Eiji.

"Sorry, but…" Eiji then blinks owlishly at the additional baggage near Ibe's feet. "Is that mine?"

"Just in time for boarding," Ibe declares, cracking a smile. "Come on, Ei-chan."

The terminal echoes with faint, crackling announcements and Eiji's brain suddenly feels like its emitting a blaring-loud static over everything else. Filling up the inside of Eiji's eardrums.

"… … Huh?"

"We're going back to Japan. It's about time we got out of America, don't you think?"

Ibe sounds so perfectly calm and rational about this, even lifting an eyebrow playfully at a dumbstruck Eiji who gawks right at him when the older man presents out Eiji's own ticket. It was supposed to be for Max. He stares between Ibe and Eiji with a obviously uncomfortable expression, shuffling on his feet.

"N-no," Eiji catches himself stammering this, taking a lengthy step backwards. "I'm gonna stay."

"You're leaving, Eiji. It's safer for you and for Ibe."

Ash's voice slips into his consciousness, low and husky and patient. So familiar to Eiji by now. He wants to always hear him this early in the morning, before the coffee-alarm goes off, before the sun gleams and heats up the surface of the blacktop. Before the rest of the world interrupts them, Ash's golden-yellow hair draping over his cheek and neck, and he manages to yawns sleepily against Eiji's jaw.

This time, they're painfully awake to the borderline sensation of loss.

"But you're not safe—" Eiji protests.

Ash peers over the edges of his tinted sunglasses, giving Eiji a deeply forlorn look. His lips twitching downwards. Those green eyes piercingly bright, moistening slightly. "Don't, please, don't make this a fight…" Ash mumbles, finally breaking eye-contact and yanking on the visor of his baseball cap.

"You can't just expect me to just go—"

Why doesn't Ash understand this? Why does he keep trying to push everyone away who wants to help him?

"Not now, not when we—"

Eiji knows he's getting a little bit louder than the acceptable public conversation levels, but it's infuriating to see Ash lowering his face out of view and shaking his head, over, over and over again.

"Ash—"

More impulse than anything, but, Eiji grabs onto Ash's red leather-jacket sleeves determinedly, reaching forward, trying to him to understand. That's when he feels Ash's own hands wrap over his forearms, yanking him in until Eiji's eyes widen and his mouth slackens open. He's enveloped in Ash, carrying away all of his senses, tasting the dark, bitter coffee, smelling a hint of gutter-water and laundry.

Ash kisses him. He kisses Eiji with softness — a firm softness — that nudges their lips and tips of their noses. Close-mouthed. Every strand of blond eyelash haloed and paled out in the morning light.

Eiji can't look away.

With the rough force of a shove, Ash backs off, turning around and practically sprinting towards the restaurant-bar and the escalators where they came from. He has thrown Eiji into the front of a baffled, darker-skinned security guard close by, his large, muscular arms wrapping to Eiji's middle and underneath his armpit, steadying him. Maybe it's the gun in Ash's jean-pocket that caught his eye first.

Max helps steady a still dazed Eiji when the security guard excuses himself to run off in another direction, getting out his walkie-talkie. "Shit," Max whispers, glimpsing down as the younger man thoughtfully wipes over his mouth with his palm, staring off into the distance where Ash vanished.

"Ei-chan…" Ibe falters, noticing the scrunch of anger on Eiji's features.

"I'm really, really sorry, Ibe-san. I…" Eiji makes a noisy, frustrated sound to himself, raking his fingers into his hair. "UUUGH—" He runs off, blatantly ignoring Max and Ibe shouting for him.

Ash is nowhere to be found on the upper level of the airport's main building, and Eiji races for the double-door exit. He spots a glint of golden-yellow hair, fourteen or so cars away, when Ash climbs into a vermilion-red Mercedes and peals out towards the highway within a matter of moments. Shit.

What a coward.

Eiji's teeth grit. He knows exactly where Ash is heading. It's just getting there that's the problem. Max's truck is too far in the parking garage across the street. There's no keys on him anyway.

A driver to a green beat-up van steps out into the open, offering to help a young couple with a baby stroller. They call out for help, for someone to get help, when a scowling Eiji leaps into the van's driver-seat, slamming the door shut and revving up. Exhaust fumes thicken and grey the air behind him.

"I'll bring it back!" he calls back, switching the gears and quickly pushing down on the floor-pedal.

Traffic seems fairly light, deeper and deeper in the route Eiji decides to shortcut, veering past an empty food-stand and screeching the tires. It's the part of Manhattan that Ash and his men control. Nobody gets in or out of this strictly controlled terf without being one of their own. Without revealing it.

Which is why Eiji hears ammunition bouncing and clinking off the back of the van. He winces, screeching to a halt and jumping out, parking with the front half of the green, rusty van on the sidewalk's curb.

Two of Ash's gang members recognize him immediately, lowering their pistols and ordering the rest to do the same. Eiji doesn't acknowledge them, marching into the alleyway, storming past the teens and young adults of different height and stature and expression, varying of race and choices of fashion style.

In the midst of the tightly packed group, Ash pushes a leg to an old, wooden crate, tossing off his baseball cap and giving orders. "Boss!" someone yells, pointing to Eiji semi-glaring right at him.

Ash's eyebrows furrow. "How did you get here?" he asks, perplexed, watching as the other man huffs.

"… … I stole a car…?"

The first twinge of guilt kicks in for Eiji, and it's difficult to pay attention to that when Ash's face softens gradually into outright amusement or something resembling 'god, I love you' before he's bellowing at Eiji for doing something incredibly stupid. So, so stupid and reckless of him.

"—I was gonna bring it back with a full tank—!" Eiji shouts over him.

The faint roar of police sirens.

"—YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET ON THE PLANE, EIJI—!"

"—YOU KISSED ME, AND THE HELL I'M GETTING ON A PLANE WITHOUT YOU—!"

Ash's gang members look away from the scene, coughing and shift around awkwardly. Eiji's heart pounds so hard against his rib-cage. He's not used to yelling like this, reddening and completely livid.

The police sirens wail, nearing them. All of the men scatter gratefully on Ash's command, and then Ash is captured by the wrist when Eiji tugs him furiously into the alleyway, saying nothing, making their escape just in time. It feels like a labyrinth of dusty, rotted brick-walls. Somewhere in the middle of finding another side-street to duck out of, they've returned to bickering but Eiji has no more energy for getting mad.

He collapses to an inner alleyway wall, sitting down and groaning. Ash joins him, breathing heavy. Perspiration trickling visibly down his throat. "You're SO—" Eiji mumbles, cutting himself off with a laugh as the other boy rubs his dirtied fingers over his chin and lips absently, snickering.

Ash grins like nothing could ever be wrong. Eiji wants that to be real for him.

"Was it a bad kiss?"

Normally a question like that would fluster him — something so personal — but Eiji only mock-hums contemplatively. "Ehh," he says, wrinkling his nose a little. "It wasn't the worst kiss I've had."

The mischievous expression on Ash fades when their hands touch, crawling gently together, linking fingers. Eiji stares at him, tilting his head and waiting for a more relaxed Ash to move in, cupping the side of Eiji's face warmly. His mouth presses up, aligning, widening to feel the hot, fleshy gap between Eiji's lips. "I'm not getting on a plane," Eiji murmurs, inhaling and listening to Ash heave out a sigh.

"Then… you're coming home," Ash says, thumbing affectionately over Eiji's chin.

"Deal."

.

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Banana Fish isn't mine. It's the last day of posting for me in regards to the Banana Fish Fluff Week 2019 aaaaahhhh! It's been lots of fun. Really helpful with not thinking about the ending and imagining better scenarios for canon. So glove23 literally helped me come up with this whole idea so credit where credit is too. I hope I helped our idea really spawn to a decent fic! Thank you guys for reading this and any comments/thoughts are welcome as usual! I love hearing from you!