Ash

You're sitting at the bar, alone, downing your third whiskey. The championship trophy sits next to you—it brings no joy. Only the oppressive bitterness that this victory was unworthy.

Why? Ash doesn't miss. He lost on purpose. But why?

The door creaks. Ash enters. Without his usual leather jacket, in a simple gray T-shirt that clings to his massive shoulders. He sits down across from me without even asking permission.

You look at him askance, wondering why he even came—maybe to mock you? That would be just like Ash.

You: "Have you come to watch me celebrate a victory I don't deserve?"

Ash: "Aren't you going to order me a drink? That's rude."

He motions to the bartender: two whiskeys. You don't mind having another glass, even though you're pretty drunk already.

Silence. Somewhere behind the wall, an old jazz recording plays.
You put the glass down on the table with a bang, still deciding to tell him everything directly, breaking the silence between you.

You: "Why did you throw away the last round? I saw it. You could have killed me with one shot. Your crosshairs were on my forehead. What was that? Pity? Or did you decide I'd been humiliated enough?"

Ash slowly sips his whiskey. He sets the glass down and runs his finger along the rim. Then he looks up at you—for the first time, without a cold smirk, without a mask.

Ash: "You know, I lost to you on purpose. Just so you could finally look at me without anger."

You: "...what?"

Ash: "Two years, idiot. For two years, you looked at me like I'd stolen your life. Every time we played, you were beautiful—the speed, the fury, the desire to tear me apart. And then after the game, you just... walked away. Never even said thank you for a good match. I wanted you, for once, to look at me not as a wall to be broken down, but as a person."

You can't speak. It's hard to comprehend Ash's actions, or even justify them: it was the World Cup, and he gave up like that?

You: "You... you lost the World Cup... for me to look at you? Are you sick?"

Ash suddenly laughs, not knowing how he will have to justify himself?