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It’s nearly a month after they’re both released from juvie that Shorter sees Ash Lynx again.
Shorter hears word from the street that Ash was released only about a week after Shorter himself, exactly two months from the day he went in. It’s odd, considering that Ash should have been in for far longer than two months after murdering four guys. Something is going on there—someone got him out, though hell if Shorter knows who or why.
It’s not like Ash doesn’t know where to find him. Shorter told him all about Chang Dai and his apartment above the restaurant in Chinatown. Ash, on the other hand, told Shorter absolutely nothing about his own family life, where he’s staying, if he even has a home, or ... anything, really. All Shorter knows is that Ash’s ragtag gang is just as against Arthur’s as his own.
Well, that, and that the kid has some experience with sex. And seduction. And rape.
But he tries not to think about that as often.
So when Ash shows up to Chang Dai late one evening after closing time, Shorter’s excited as fuck.
Ash looks tiny, standing on the other side of the dirty glass restaurant doors. He’s supposed to be 15, but he sure as hell doesn’t look it. Even in the dim of the street lights, his mop of platinum blond hair stands out, and Shorter would recognize those piercing green eyes anywhere. An angel, here on his doorstep.
Shorter waits a minute, but Ash doesn’t knock. Just alternates between staring into the restaurant and staring down at his feet. Checking his phone, Shorter is surprised to not see any texts from his guys. A young white boy—especially a blond—going through Chinatown alone after dark? Someone should have told him. Which means, somehow, Ash got here unnoticed by his gang.
Sometimes that kid’s scary, too.
Shooting a text to Nadia, Shorter goes to open the door for Ash. Nadia went to lie down early today, leaving the closing of the restaurant to Shorter, but he was just about finished up anyway.
Ash flinches back when the door opens.
Shorter hesitates, a joke about what he can do for ‘the great Ash Lynx’ dying on his tongue. “Hey,” he says instead. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Ash says, scowling. His voice is just the tiniest bit hoarse. Shorter ushers him inside. Ash stands there for a moment, just inside the doorway, hesitating. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“Yeah, of course, man!” Shorter grins, elated that Ash would come to him for this. “We don’t have a guest room, but you can have the bed in my room and I’ll take the floor.”
Ash eyes him carefully, and Shorter finds himself caught staring back into his eyes for a moment. Ash’s gaze is intense, and holds Shorter in place. He’s more like that distant, damaged kid that Shorter first met than the laughing child that he left a month ago.
“Uh ...” Shorter manages after a moment. “Is that okay?”
“That’s fine.”
“Oh. Okay then. I’ll, uh, show you upstairs. Do you need to borrow some clothes?”
“... Yeah. Thanks.”
It’s awkward, and Shorter doesn’t know why. Even if this isn’t something Ash is used to, it should be a pretty easy thing, right? Just staying over at a friend’s house? Hell, when Sing and Lao get into fights, Sing often shows up without a word. Nothing weird about it.
Right?
When he glances back on their way up the stairs, Ash is limping a little. Shorter walks a little slower, but Ash doesn’t seem to notice.
Shorter grabs the smallest of his clothes that he has—some stuff he’s grown out of that they haven’t gotten around to donating yet—but just a glance says they’ll be huge on Ash. Maybe Nadia’s clothes would be better, but Shorter’s not sure how Ash would feel about that, and he doesn’t want to bother Nadia anyway.
As he hands the clothes to Ash, he realizes suddenly that the kid is already wearing some high end clothes. Like, designer shit. But ... there’s some stains—blood, Shorter’s instincts tell him—on the jeans, around the inside of his thighs. Just a little, just barely soaked through from the inside.
“Hey,” Shorter says softly, handing the clothes over. “These are too small for me anyway, okay? You can keep them if you want.” Those stains look pretty new. Especially combined with the limp, Ash might still be bleeding. Shorter doesn’t think he wants the clothes back.
“... Thanks.”
“You can change in the bathroom over there,” Shorter says, pointing.
Ash looks at him all weird again for a few seconds before wandering into the bathroom. Shorter sits down on his bed for a minute, trying to take deep breaths or some shit. What the fuck is even happening here? Something is clearly wrong, but Shorter doesn’t know enough about Ash’s home life to put any of the pieces together.
Or, maybe he can, but he doesn’t want to.
A couple minutes later Ash comes out of the bathroom. Shorter has to suppress a laugh at how ridiculous the clothes look on him. The sweats pool around his ankles, and the T-shirt hangs off his frame, one shoulder almost poking through the neckline. Ash hardly seems to notice, though. He returns to Shorter’s room and closes the door behind the two of them, walking up to Shorter.
“Hey, uh ... ready for bed?” Shorter asks. “I can grab you some leftovers first if you’re hungry, or ...”
Ash keeps coming closer.
“Ash?” he asks, not sure if he should step back or not.
When Ash is almost on top of Shorter, he reaches up and threads his arms together behind Shorter’s neck. He has to go practically on his tip toes to do so—the kid is tiny, and Shorter’s already broken 6’0”. But he seems ... like he’s used to this.
“Thanks for letting me stay here, Shorter,” Ash says. His voice is hoarse, still, but ... different, now. It’s breathier, and almost sounds whiny. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”
And maybe it says something about Ash—or what he’s been through—that he drops to his knees without so much as a kiss.
He lets one hand trail down Shorter’s chest as he does, resting it on Shorter’s hip once he’s situated on his knees.
Shorter takes three steps back. “Uh, no. We’re not doing this. Nope.”
Ash tilts his head, looking up at Shorter from his knees still. “What do you mean?”
Running a hand through the mohawk he's trying to grow, Shorter sighs. “Look, pay me back by helping me out with Arthur or something, okay? But not this. Don’t do this to yourself.”
Ash blinks. “Do what?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused. Shorter can feel himself getting frustrated.
“Look, no offense, but you look like you got ... assaulted, what, maybe an hour ago?”
Ash flinches, then stares at Shorter for a moment before saying, “You don’t want leftovers, huh?”
Shorter leans his head back and slams his fist against the dresser, not even caring if he wakes Nadia at this point.
“I’m still good!” Ash quickly assures. “I can still do whatever you need. I can—deepthroat, or—anything, Shorter—”
Ash is still on his fucking knees.
And it’s not like Shorter hasn’t messed around with his friends before. In fact, he’s never been much interested in an actual relationship, but friends with benefits or one night stands? Hell yeah!
But this is different. There’s no way Shorter would be able to live with himself if he lets this happen. There’s a zero percent chance that letting Ash Lynx touch him right now isn’t just taking advantage of him, no matter how eager the kid seems.
“God! Fuck! Ash, that’s not what I fucking meant!”
“Please don’t kick me out,” Ash whispers. He falls forward onto his hands and knees, now. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Alex and the boys—we don’t have—I can’t, and—I can’t go back there right now, or—” Ash’s voice breaks.
Is he ... crying? Oh shit. Oh fuck. Is Ash Fucking Lynx seriously crying in Shorter’s bedroom right now? Jesus Christ. Okay. Okay, uh ...
“Calm down, Ash,” he tries. “I’m not gonna kick you out. I just don’t want you to ... this isn’t how I want you to repay me, okay?”
Ash looks up at him, and sure enough, there are tears in his eyes. In fact, the kid looks pathetic. He looks ... like a little kid. Not the angel Shorter always saw him as, or the devil that nearly killed another kid in juvie. Just a fucking kid.
But then Ash runs a hand along his eyes and sits back on his heels, and the moment is gone. He’s beautiful again. Beautiful and perfect.
“Hey. Ash. I know how you can pay me back, okay? I know what we can do.”
Ash blinks a few times and looks up at Shorter from the floor. His expression is ... hopeful.
Shorter lowers himself down to sit on the floor in front of Ash. “We’re going to sit here, and you’re going to tell me everything. Do you know what I’m asking, Ash?”
Ash nods, slowly. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I can do that.”
— — —
Ash doesn’t tell him everything. He leaves a lot out, like how he ended up on the streets in the first place, or really anything about his real family or his past in general. In fact, Shorter can tell that he’s leaving out a lot about the present, too. But Shorter doesn’t push.
And Ash does tell him about a certain Dino Golzine, and what goes on behind closed doors. Ash speaks of unspeakable things as though they were everyday occurrences—which, Shorter realizes, for him they might be. He relays all of this calmly, as causally as if they were talking about the weather.
Shorter gets it, in a way. After all, he can talk about gunfights this way, and he guesses that would probably terrify some ordinary people. But this is on another level. This is horrors that Shorter had never thought to imagine.
By the end of it, Shorter is really only certain of one thing.
If he ever gets the chance, Shorter Wong will be part of the reason that Dino Golzine ends up dead.