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Shorter’s phone rings in the early hours of the morning, as he is just beginning to feel weariness pull at his bones. Any semblance of exhaustion that had begun to set in dissipates as he rushes to see who could be calling at this hour. When he registers the caller ID, adrenaline shoots through his veins. Ash. Why is Ash calling him right now? He picks up as fast as he can.
“Ash?” he asks, throat suddenly going dry. “What’s wrong? What’s happening, are you safe?”
There’s shuffling on the other end of the line, followed by rushed, panicked breathing. “Help me,” Ash gasps. His voice sounds watery and thin, backed by an underlying tone of complete and utter terror. “Shorter, I need help.”
“Okay,” Shorter breathes into the microphone. “Okay, do you know where you are?” He forces his voice to stay level. Ash needs him to be calm, Ash needs him to be steady. “I’ll help you, I promise, I just need to know where you are.”
Ash rattles off a few street names, then begs, “Please hurry. I’m so scared, Shorter. I’m so scared.” The end of his phrase is shaky, and he sounds so young. Shorter could cry just listening to him, he’s just a little boy. He’s all of fifteen years old, he shouldn’t be crying on some random street corner. He should be safe.
“Alright. Just stay nearby and get somewhere safe. I’ll come pick you up.”
The streets Ash named are close enough to Chang Dai that Shorter briefly considers that walking might be faster than hassling with his motorbike. Ultimately, he decides on driving. It’s overall safer in case whoever made Ash call for help is still lurking around and they need to make a quick getaway, and Ash is probably in no state to walk anyway. The extra time it takes to start up the bike will be worth it.
He rushes out of his apartment, still in his pajamas, and shivers at the chill of the night air. He wishes he had a car, so Ash could at least start to warm up on the ride home. He throws on his helmet and tears off into the night. The streets themselves are blissfully empty, and luckily all the lights are green as he circles around to Ash’s location. Despite the short distance, it still feels like it takes way too long to reach the alleyway Ash named. His headlight catches a flicker of movement behind an empty dumpster as he passes, and if he were not so intensely focused he would have missed it. He pulls the bike up to the curb.
“Ash? If that’s you and you’re safe, can you tell me?” he calls into the darkness in front of him.
“It’s me,” Ash replies, sounding just as shaken as he had on the phone.
“Okay. I’m going to come there and get you now, is that okay?”
“Please.”
Shorter wastes no more time. He’s off his bike in an instant, rushing around the empty dumpster to where the movement he saw earlier was. Ash looks terrible. Shorter has seen him in all sorts of states, but never quite like this. He’s never seen him look so devastated. He’s halfway curled in on himself, his too-thin shirt torn and clutched tight around his shoulders. There’s bruises on his jaw in the shape of fingers, like someone pried his jaw open. Shorter doesn’t want to think about that for longer than is absolutely necessary. Similar bruises appear across his throat and upper arms, the latter presumably from someone holding him down and holding him hard. He must have put up a hell of a fight. Oh, Shorter could cry just looking at him. Ash looks like he’s got the crying part covered. Shorter’s shattered heart has to take a backseat. Ash needs him to be strong. He can do that.
Gently, he reaches towards Ash, making sure to clearly telegraph his movements. Ash brings one hand from his shirt to cover his mouth against a sob. He always cries so quietly.
“Do you need a hospital?” Nevermind that they can’t afford it. Nadia will figure something out. Shorter will find another job. “What do you need from me?”
Ash shakes his head vehemently, “I can’t go to the hospital. He’ll kill me if he finds out.” Ash doesn’t even have to say his name for Shorter to know he means the old bastard Dino. “I’m so scared,” he continues, muffled by his own hands, “Please, help me.”
“Let’s get you to Chang Dai first, then we can talk about it.”
Ash allows himself to be herded back to Shorter’s motorbike, led by Shorter’s steady, gentle hand at his shoulder. He sits beside Shorter, melting into his back when he wraps his arms around him for security as the bike takes off. Shorter doesn’t comment on their closeness. He doesn’t comment on the way Ash’s tiny body shakes, or the wetness of his tears that he can feel soaking through his pajama shirt. Ash doesn’t make a sound the entire car ride. It’s only when they’re safely in Chang Dai, the door bolted behind them, that he speaks.
“Can I use your shower?” he asks softly, anxiously glancing from side to side.
“Of course. Let me get you some clothes to change into.”
Shorter rushes to get Nadia’s softest set of pajamas. Ash will probably be swimming in them still, but they’re closer than anything Shorter has. As soon as Ash has the clothes in hand, he disappears down the hallway. Shorter wonders if he should wait by the door to make sure Ash is alright, but he fears that would make him feel cornered instead of safe. Fuck, he needs something to do with his hands. There are some leftovers in the fridge from earlier, but Ash usually has a hard time eating on nights like these. He’ll make something to drink, then. Something warm, but easy on Ash’s stomach. No coffee, then. Ash is too young to have that much caffeine anyway. He doesn’t like tea. A bit of digging around the pantry yields a few packets of hot chocolate. They’ll be hot, so Ash can get some warmth back in his body, and sweet so he can get a bit of energy back. Once he sets two mugs of milk warming in the microwave, he heads to his bedroom to haul his comforter off the bed and into the living room. Ash likes to sleep in open spaces. On the couch so his back is protected, but facing the door so he can be aware of anyone trying to come in. Leftovers from a life spent on the street. Shorter wishes he could convince Ash he was safe enough to sleep with his back to the door, but some habits are impossible to break.
The microwave chimes just as the shower stops. Ash emerges from the bathroom, wet hair soaking the collar of his borrowed shirt. He heads towards the couch with the heaviness of a man heading to his death. With the blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a shield, he curls up. Shorter brings the hot chocolate over to him once it’s stirred, and he sits beside him with his own mug.
Ash leans into him, laying his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” He takes the mug in trembling hands and simply holds it while it cools.
“You didn’t wake me up,” Shorter assures. “You scared me tonight, buddy. What happened to you?”
“I’m sorry.”
This would be much easier if Ash didn’t feel the need to apologize so much. It’s ingrained in him, to be sorry for his existence. Shorter wants to take him in. He wants to huddle him under his wing, to let him sleep on the couch for the rest of his life. He wants to protect him from the streets, from the men, from anyone who ever hurt him. But one day soon he’ll have to go back, and he’ll return to Shorter hollow and afraid. “Ash,” he repeats, gently, “what happened to you?”
Ash’s lower lip trembles. His face scrunches up as he fights back tears, “I was workin’ tonight, ‘cause I don’t have money. An’ there was this guy who-” he cuts off, swallowing a sob. “He was so much bigger ‘en me, an’ I couldn’t go nowhere ‘cause he was holdin’ my arm.”
Shorter nods patiently, waiting for Ash to collect himself. He needs an ear right now, and Shorter is nothing if not a good listener.
“I thought he was gonna kill me, Shorter,” Ash continues, just shy of wailing. “I thought he was never gonna let me go. I thought he was gonna choke me to death.” He’s trembling so much Shorter fears he might shake apart at the seams. He lifts the hot chocolate out of his hands so he doesn’t spill the hot liquid all over himself. “I told him he was done ‘cause I gave him what he paid for, an’ he slammed me down an’ made me-”
“Breathe, Ash,” Shorter says, softly pulling the shaking boy into his arms. “Just breathe. You’re safe here.”
Ash wails for real this time, a pathetic, childish sound that makes Shorter’s heart ache. “I don’t wanna die, Shorter. I don’t wanna do this anymore.”
“I know you don’t, Ash, I know.” Shorter strokes his wet hair as he cradles him.
Ash bawls his little heart out against Shorter’s chest. He cries until his nose is stuffy and he has to take gasping breaths through his mouth. He cries until his hot chocolate is cool enough for him to take baby sips between bouts of tears. He cries until he falls asleep in Shorter’s arms, exhausted from adrenaline and stress. Shorter must fall asleep at some point, because the next time he opens his eyes there’s sunlight streaming in through the windows. Ash is still curled up in his arms, fast asleep.
He can’t keep Ash safe forever. But he can keep Ash safe today.