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2swag and Ashton have gotten closer than they’d expected.
After their first major exploration together in the Fort Rapids waterpark, everything seemed smoother. It started small—jokes came out instinctively, laughing felt natural, being physically close seemed less compromising. They fell into the comfortable line between not being as intimate as old friends, but close enough to enjoy each other’s company.
Then they started sticking together even among bigger groups. Whenever they all gathered to visit abandoned places across the United States, it wasn’t uncommon for them to be found sitting side by side in the car, or to absently separate themselves from the group as they walked at their own pace. It wasn’t on purpose, really. They simply had their own rhythms, and it just happened that they matched each other’s energy in a welcoming way.
Almost unconsciously, Ashton gravitated towards 2swag. And vice-versa.
Their urbex group started planning a trip to Puerto Rico in December of the previous year. Their main goal was the Roosevelt Roads Naval Station, an abandoned U.S. Navy base in the town of Ceiba. It turned out a lot more awaited them—according to previous explorers, bunkers surrounded the once active military site, as well as a deserted neighbourhood beneath the dense tropical vegetation. Pictures of forgotten naval gear and machinery, especially the majestic MD-80 Airliner, only fueled their enthusiasm.
Together with Stringer Media, the duo discussed the preparations for the trip, momentarily reaching an impasse over its duration. In the end, they settled on six days in the capital, San Juan—enough to drive around the island and dig into the shuttered Navy base. And plenty of time to get some decent footage.
The flight lasted around 5 hours, the three friends sitting side by side in one of the rows of economy class. 2swag didn’t mind sitting in the middle, meanwhile Ashton sat to his right, observing the landscape through the window as he took occasional photos with his camera. Stringer gladly took the aisle seat, almost merging with the cushion for a solid three-hour REM nap.
The ginger was appreciatively following the huge body of water with his eyes as they flew across the North Atlantic Sea. The deep blue shimmered under the lights of dawn, sun rays deflecting off the wavy surface. For Ashton, it was always so peaceful to fly over the ocean. A picture of peace, inert to the disturbances of its depth. Part of him related to it—to how tricky it was to look calm on the outside despite the strong, dangerous currents beneath.
2swag had his neck craned to the right, staring at passing cirrus clouds and barely catching a glimpse of water from where he was seated. Inadvertently, his eyes fell on Ashton’s face. He hadn't noticed before, but the other’s freckles were even more prominent from up close, the faint moustache complementing his face in a harmonious way. His angled jawline gave him a sharp, piercing aura, and the thought took 2swag aback for a moment.
“Yo, check that out,” Ashton pulled him out of his thoughts while pointing towards the distance. He didn’t turn to look at 2swag, but a tiny smile was visible on the corner of his mouth. “It’s the island.”
“Oh,” the brunet redirected his vision to the piece of land, cheeks slightly hot. He would’ve died if Ashton had caught him staring. “Yeah, seems like it.”
“Dude, it’s huge.”
“It’s even bigger than I thought,” he agreed. “Should we wake up Stringer?”
The ginger turned around and their eyes met briefly, the amusement in his lips shaping into an almost imperceptible smirk. Ashton’s gaze drifted behind 2swag and then back.
“Not before taking a picture first.”
2swag shifted on his seat to stare at Stringer, barely containing a laugh when he finally took in the view. The blonde had his face tilted to the side, neck hanging in a funny, probably painful way. Saliva left behind a wet patch on the travel pillow where his mouth rested, slightly agape.
“Bro’s drooling,” Ashton pointed out as if it wasn’t obvious, grinning behind his phone as he directed his camera at Stringer.
“Bro, wake up,” 2swag said softly while poking his arm. No response. He sighed and tried again, a bit louder. “Dude, come on. You’re missing out.”
In a sleepy haze, Stringer opened his eyes slowly, trying to process his surroundings as he lifted his head. First he recognized the figure sitting beside him, who tried to muffle a giggle with the back of his hands. Then, his focus switched to the other person. The blonde quickly snapped into reality when he spotted a phone staring right at his face, becoming dreadfully aware of the dampness that threatened to slip down his chin.
“Oh, shit,” Stringer cursed under his breath, rubbing his mouth with the sleeves of his black hoodie. He barely had time to glare at Ashton before his eyes flicked to the view behind him. “Oh, shit.”
The aquamarine water surrounded the land elegantly, enveloping it in a fresh, colorful embrace. Different hues of dark green painted the continent, highlighting the thick yet diverse vegetation that awaited their adventures. He identified numerous spots spread across the coast, rapidly deducing them to be boats, ranging from fishing vessels to luxurious yachts.
“What the fuck.” Stringer leaned closer, trying to get a better look. “Tell me we’re at least going for a dip. Look at the color of that water.”
“Remember, we’re here for work,” 2swag responded lightheartedly, having turned his back to look outside the window again. “But sure, we could go for a swim.”
Ashton had already stopped recording Stringer’s face, resting the phone on his lap as his gaze followed the ones of his two friends. They were entranced. It was such a distinct landscape from what you could see back in Ohio—or in the entirety of the United States, for that matter. Traveling by plane was always a delightful experience, but they were sure that this trip was going to be especially unforgettable.
Standing beneath the shadows of the dense foliage, Ashton prepared his equipment to start recording. Glancing to his side, he noticed Stringer searching for something inside his backpack, possibly a bottle of water—it was very hot—and 2swag setting up his phone. After positioning it in the gimbal, he held out the object for Stringer to hold, in order to reach for his balaclava.
2swag’s fingers danced along the black cloth, and Ashton couldn’t help but stare. First the brunet made sure it was well fitted on his head, feeling it thoroughly before tugging at the front. He lifted it with such practiced ease, it was easy to tell he’d used it dozens of times since he started urban exploring. Ashton didn’t remember ever seeing the boy without his mask whenever they went to abandoned spots. As 2swag smoothed the surface of the fabric right below his eyes, the ginger’s gaze locked onto the hazel orbs.
People usually said that mystery was a major factor when it came to interest. Mind you, Ashton had seen 2swag with a mask countless times. But he had seen him without it too, so he knew what the brunet looked like. He knew the contour of his nose, the outline of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He even knew the way he smiled—contained, but showing enough teeth to make it count.
So why was he intrigued now?
Ashton knew those eyes, mask or not. But maybe because he was left with nothing but them to stare at, he started noticing how soft they were. 2swag had gentle eyes, the kind that makes you want to keep looking. Chocolatey warm tones around the pupil, golden green toward the outer iris—a perfect balance of comfort and radiance. Their shape contributed to the atmosphere. Not sharp or elongated, but rather round and almost… Innocent looking.
The kind that made Ashton swallow a lump in his throat when he realized 2swag was looking back.
The ginger coughed quietly and looked into the distance, absently fixing his clothes. For a second, he wondered if 2swag was still looking at him. If he’d acted weird by fixating on his friend’s eyes, he didn’t want to think about it. In fact, there was nothing to think about, Ashton told himself. He licked his lips once, a sudden urge to touch his face overtaking his nerves, but he kept his hands down. His fingers twitched. Enough of awkwardness.
As soon as 2swag had his phone in hand, they headed to the first spot of the day: the airport. Having agreed to meet in the plane later, the three friends went their separate ways. After all, they valued their individual moments to comfortably record as much as they could while talking to their respective audiences.
Ashton strolled around the airfield, cracked concrete with overgrown weeds stretching endlessly ahead of him. Tire marks stained the runway, caused by heavy, imposing tanks and planes. Surrounding the area, modest buildings accommodated the operational facilities that once administered the flight activity there.
At the center stood a deserted McDonnell Douglas MD-80 in all its splendor—or the closest he would ever get to seeing one. The metal of its carcass had collected dust and marks of use with many years of service, subtly darkening the originally white paint. As he approached the vehicle, a staircase revealed its decayed shape, hanging sadly from the belly of the aircraft. Unceremoniously, he went up.
A loud thud was heard when he first stepped on the stairs, the metal firm, yet sounding fragile. As he made his way up, he crossed a section full of exposed mechanical parts—oxidized, cluttered, more complex than he could ever understand.
Finally arriving at the floor, he was faced with only the resemblance of what once was a fully functional airliner. The interior was absolutely gutted. Cushion seats were ripped out from their original positions, giving him more space to walk around. Oxygen masks fell through the ceiling, ready for passengers that would never use them. The only light that allowed the cabin to be visible sneaked through half-shut windows and the destroyed doors on the vehicle’s midsection, right above both wings. And oh, he couldn’t help himself.
“Oh my gosh, guys, you can get onto the wings,” he pointed his camera to the outward structure. “We’re gonna do it, of course.”
The opening was slightly narrow, but more than enough to let his lean body through. Ashton went through it without much effort, a slight raise of his legs being the only movement necessary. Despite the dirty, eroded surface, it seemed much bigger and stabler than he’d expected.
“I’ve never been on an airplane wing, but I guess I can say I have now,” he mused, part excitement, part disbelief.
The next section was the cockpit, and the ginger was immediately blown away by the vision. Circuitry wires dangled like rainy clouds, a contrast to the only thoroughly bright part of the aircraft. There wasn’t much to be seen on the dashboard, the panel being mostly taken off except for gears and electric components. Behind where the pilot seat was supposed to be standing, dozens of buttons spread across a wall in uniformity.
“Imagine being a pilot,” Ashton said, his astonishment never quite settled.
He went back to the middle section of the vehicle, only to find Stringer and 2swag filming inside as well. They exchanged quick comments before leaving to explore the structures surrounding the airfield.
The ginger stepped out of the plane, the sun momentarily blinding him. As he adjusted his vision, a loud noise caught their attention. Looking up, he spotted a plane taking off relatively close to where they were standing. Realization crossed their faces as they remembered the base was actually right next to an active one. Ashton reminded himself that they had to be careful—security could be around at any moment.
The three friends agreed to go their separate ways again. Cargo containers, hangars, and operational facilities stretched out before Ashton, most of them chaotically empty and hard to make sense of. Every room he entered was ravaged: offices littered with old computer parts, seas of documents covering the floor, shelves and furniture rotting in place. Even aircraft mechanical components were scattered around like long forgotten Lego pieces.
He left the building while still talking to his audience, promptly spotting 2swag ahead of him. The other boy, while uninterruptedly recording with his phone, strolled across the airfield as if enjoying a delicious meal. But it was Ashton who licked his own lips.
“I believe 2swag is going to check out probably these two hangars…” he muttered, almost inquisitively. “So, well, we’ll actually go join him.”
Because why not?
“Hey, 2swag,” he called, lowering his camera due to the higher volume of his voice.
2swag stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, arms swaying in the process. His head tilted slightly to the side.
“Mind if I join you?”
The brunet responded with a simple “sure”, as if there was a problem to begin with. 2swag slowed his pace, waiting for the other boy to catch up to their new shared objective.
If the buildings Ashton had visited were ruined, the hangars were utter destruction itself. He figured it was probably due to hurricane damage. The top of the roof was gone, chunks of the wall missing with its paint tragically peeled off. Chairs, desks, and other furniture adorned the place in a mess of rotten wood and rust. Books, magazines, and countless more documents flooded the space. It didn’t look like a hangar at all.
Ashton’s attention was brought to the loud clattering above him—the wind knocked on the damaged roof metal, causing it to wobble in a menacing way. It looked like it could collapse at any given moment.
“That’s not scary at all,” he joked, throat suddenly dry. “We’re going to get moving ‘cause… This is a little crazy, guys. I do not want to get hit in the head.”
The next hangar was pretty much in the same state, and he wondered just how much devastation one place could hold. That abandoned airport was one of the messiest spots he’d ever been to.
The two boys kept talking to each other over and over again throughout the whole experience. Ashton felt comfortable enough to point out whatever he found intriguing, the awkwardness from before long gone. 2swag nodded along enthusiastically, adding to every comment with an observation of his own.
It was almost 5 PM when they decided to conclude their adventures for the day. Except for the fact that, while driving down the road on their way back to the city, Stringer reminded them of a nearby national waterfall they had heard of. In the end, they opted for a quick stop there—it was too hot for anyone to disagree.
They hadn’t even arrived at the cascade when Stringer took off his shirt, rendering a mumbled “he’s crazy, dude” from 2swag as they marched through a densely vegetated trail. It was impressive, really, the way the blonde didn’t care in the slightest about bugs or potentially venomous animals in the jungle. Ashton looked at the brunet and vehemently agreed. Traitorously, his eyes snuck down.
Part of him had hoped 2swag would do the same.
Their stay wasn’t as long, but mostly a refreshing variety after hours inhaling dust and dodging biohazards. There they met a local named Aaron. “Amazingly nice,” according to Ashton. The guy started talking about spearfishing, and how he liked adventuring in his free time, explaining with excruciating detail the history behind that area of Puerto Rico. It wasn’t long until they all started to connect.
While Stringer went for a quick swim, 2swag and Ashton sat beside each other on a rock together with their new companion, both having their pants cuffed to the ankles. The brunet would only listen attentively while the others did most of the talking. After what seemed hours of productive conversation, Aaron mentioned the abandoned military bunkers, and that’s what truly piqued Ashton's interest. Politely, he asked for the details on its whereabouts.
The guy gave a rundown of all the safety hazards that may occur while exploring the bunkers—their locations were quite tricky, and Stringer certainly wouldn’t be allowed to go out there shirtless if he wanted to come back alive. Snakes, spiders, poisonous plants, absolutely decayed structures. Not to mention the risk of getting lost.
Soon the first rays of dusk reflected on the leaves, and that’s when they knew it was time to go. They were all pretty tired at that point—and that was only the first day. After exchanging final goodbyes with the local, they headed to their rented car.
Stringer spread a towel on the backseat just to comfortably throw himself on the leather, awfully resembling a child after coming back from a school trip. 2swag was the one driving; and Ashton, the good passenger that he was, helped him with directions, but mostly scrolled down his camera’s gallery to check what they had registered that day.
As the ginger glanced at a particularly interesting photo, he let his mind wander. 2swag looked nothing short of alluring: he had his signature pose of arms spread right next to the MD-80 aircraft, eyes slightly crinkled beneath the black cloth, hair looking as shiny as ever. Ashton acknowledged the boy was tall—not much taller than him—but he still looked so small before such a magnificent figure.
“What’s so cool about that one?” the brunet inquired. Ashton didn't even realize he had been glancing sideways the whole time.
“What—” he looked at 2swag and then back at the camera, immediately skipping to the next photo. He gulped. “Nah, nothing. This plane is just crazy. It’s huge compared to you.”
“You saying I’m small?" The other let out a giggle, eyes not leaving the road.
“No, I’m just saying it’s gigantic,” he snorted.
Now 2swag’s mask was long forgotten inside the backpack, and, unlike before, Ashton avoided his eyes at all costs.