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Shorter got out of juvie before Ash, but the kid has pretty much clung to Shorter since he got out. Shorter's not really sure how Ash managed to get out so quickly when his sentence should have been far longer than Shorter's with what he did—Shorter's got his suspicions, of course, but nothing he could ask Ash about.
He thinks, sometimes, about how Ash acted during juvie. How he nearly killed another kid without a second thought. How he's so, so small, so young, and yet had even Shorter afraid for a while. How he's so ...
Shorter's not sure how to end that sentence. Or maybe he just doesn't want to.
Anyway, they're hanging out, and Shorter has pushed all of that to the back of his mind. That's a problem for another time. For now, it's just Shorter and Ash. They're not even discussing any gang shit, instead just acting ... like kids, almost. Almost like kids.
Ash is absolutely fucking enthralled by Shorter's PlayStation 3. It's an older console, now—the PS4 has been out for a few years—but Ash is acting like the world just shifted.
"So it's like a computer, but just for games?" he asks.
Shorter laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I guess?" he allows. "What, you've never seen a gaming console before?"
Ash shakes his head, and Shorter drops his arm. Oh. The kid's serious. He's ... he's never played a video game before, has he?
"So this is like the mouse?" Ash asks, gesturing to the controller in Shorter's other hand.
"Uh—yeah. It's pretty intuitive. You wanna try?" he holds the controller out to Ash, whose eyes widen.
"I dunno if I should," he mumbles. He rubs his hands on his jeans, like he's nervous about something. "Dunno if that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Shorter presses. "I'm offering, right? I don't have a ton of multiplayer games, but you can play something if you want."
Ash grimaces, shaking his head now. "Maybe I'll just watch you play for now?" he asks. "If that's okay."
Shorter blinks down at the kid slowly, and Ash averts his eyes. He always seems so nervous about everything.
Sighing, Shorter nods. "Yeah, sounds good. But if you do want to jump in and take over, just let me know. I feel like you'd be fun to watch play."
Ash ducks his head, maybe wincing just a little, or maybe embarrassed or something. Shorter's not really sure. He's been showing emotion more since that time Shorter called him out in juvie, but the emotion is hard to parse, sometimes. He's hard to read.
Shorter loads up something that's not too heavily story-based, so that he can show Ash some of the mechanics of how the PS3 works without worrying about a storyline that they won't be able to finish tonight. Maybe later, if Ash decides he likes it, Shorter can get him started on a play of something longer.
Ash focuses all of his attention on the TV, leaning in to follow the action on screen. He seems enthralled. It's only a few minutes before Shorter says, "Hey, man, you sure you don't want to play?"
Ash blinks, like he's coming back into reality from the game world. He finally leans back into the couch, but he wraps an arm around himself now. "Dunno," he says again. "I dunno."
"Come on," Shorter insists. "Just try. Just a couple minutes, okay? Please?" He lets his voice come out high and whiny, playful. He leans in toward Ash, smiling, and the kid manages a smile too.
"... Okay," Ash relents. "Just for a bit."
"Fuck yeah!" Shorter cheers, passing the controller over to Ash.
Ash tentatively tilts the analog stick, then releases it and jumps back when the character on screen starts to move with him. His eyes widen, and Shorter can't help but laugh.
Ash pouts, already handing the controller back to Shorter. "I don't like it," he says, shoving the controller in Shorter's face.
Shorter refuses to take it, still laughing.
"Shorter!" Ash whines. "I'm no good at this stuff." He gestures at the game's screen.
"Oh, come on. You're just new to it. I'm sure you're good at everything, aren't you?"
Ash pauses. He sets the controller down on the couch cushion in between the two of them. "Less than you'd think," he mumbles.
"Name one thing you're shitty at, then," Shorter insists. He can feel Ash's mood slipping, and he's trying to stop it. It must work, because there's a hint of a smile on Ash's face.
"Video games," he replies. Then he starts giggling, so Shorter counts it as a victory. He laughs, too.
"I'm serious, though. You'll get the hang of it. Like, seriously, I'm sure there's nothing that you wouldn't be good at if you gave it even a half-assed effort."
Ash's face falls, suddenly, but Shorter's not sure what he said wrong. He was just continuing the same conversation. He knows this kid has some issues, but—what did he do wrong?
Ash hesitates. Then, "It'd take less time to name the things I am good at," he mumbles.
Shorter blinks, surprised. Does Ash not know that he's smart? That he's ridiculously fucking talented at everything? Shorter may not have known him long, really just that month or so in juvie and a couple weeks since then, but ...
"What are those things, then?" Shorter asks, genuinely curious. What does Ash Lynx think he is good at, if not everything?
"Killing," Ash says immediately, with a challenging smirk on his face.
Caught off guard, Shorter gapes for a second. The kid's not wrong, but ...
"Ash ..." he starts, not sure how to play this. Then, trying to keep things lighthearted still, "There's gotta be something else, right? You don't seem like only a ruthless killer to me. What are you hiding in that brain of yours, huh? What else you got that you're good at?"
Ash hesitates, and for a second, Shorter thinks he's going to insist that he's really only good at killing. But then—
"Kissing," Ash says, so quiet and quick that Shorter almost thinks he misheard.
"Huh?"
Ash looks up at Shorter, smiling sweetly. He leans in close. "I'm really good at kissing," Ash breathes.
Oh. Oh shit.
All of the blood in Shorter's body rushes to his face and, uh—the other option.
"You—you are?" Shorter squeaks. To be fair, he has seen Ash leading other guys on, but ... This feels different, somehow.
Ash's sweet smile turns into a toothy grin. "Want to find out just exactly what I mean?" he teases.
"Are you flirting with me?" Shorter blurts.
Ash shrugs, leaning back just a little. "Do you want me to be?"
Swallowing, Shorter tries to calm down a bit. He's seen Ash drive guys wild. He should have expected something like this. "Do you want to kiss me, Ash?" he presses.
Ash tilts his head to the side, parting his lips into a soft shape and pressing his teeth down on his tongue just a bit, letting his tongue explore his own upper lip for a moment. "I'm open to the idea."
"You're really hot," Shorter says, and it sounds like an admission. "Like—you're really attractive, Ash. But you already know that."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Ash says, he drags a finger across his lower lip, excruciatingly slow.
"Fucking hell," Shorter says under his breath. "Are we gonna do this?" he asks.
"Are you?" Ash teases.
Shorter's breath stutters. Fuck it. Ash is clearly offering.
Shorter closes his eyes for a moment, mustering his courage. Then he moves in toward Ash, across the couch.
Ash doesn't move in to meet him.
Confused and frustrated, Shorter falls onto all fours and keeps going forward, practically crawling on top of Ash now. Ash is still grinning, but hasn't moved toward Shorter at all. If anything, he seems pressed against the arm of the couch.
Breathing out heavily through his nose, Shorter looks down at Ash. "Are you sure about this?" he asks.
Ash shrugs with one shoulder. "Too late to back out now, isn't it?"
"It's not," Shorter says immediately. "You can always back out. Just tell me."
Ash's smile widens. There's something unidentifiable in his eyes. "Just do it, coward."
All right. Fine. Shorter can take a challenge.
With another deep breath, Shorter lowers himself down, practically on top of Ash. God, the kid is so small. This almost feels wrong. But he's only a couple years younger than Shorter—fifteen to Shorter's seventeen. If they were normal kids, they'd both be in high school right now.
Pushing all of that into the back of his mind, Shorter closes his eyes and presses his lips to Ash's.
Ash immediately opens his lips, like he's inviting Shorter to deepen the kiss. It takes Shorter a moment to actually do it, but he does, eventually. He opens his own mouth just a bit, and lets his tongue slip into Ash's mouth.
Ash reciprocates.
And—fuck, okay, the kid was right. He is a good kisser.
God. Fuck. Wow. Okay. This feels ... really, really really good. Shorter shifts a little on the couch, trying to get some friction on his crotch as he kisses the hell out of Ash. He's panting into Ash's mouth, eyes still closed, licking Ash's lips and tempted to bite a little, but would Ash be into that, or would that be too much? He presses himself closer, closer closer closer—
The controller tumbles off of the couch and onto the wood floor, clattering loudly.
Ash flinches.
Gasping, Shorter pulls back, giving Ash just a little space. Was—was that a flinch? Is that what just happened? To be fair, living lives like they do, Shorter wouldn't be surprised if the noise startled Ash. Shorter was just thinking too much with his dick to really be worried about it.
But then Shorter looks down at Ash, really looks at him, and—
The kid looks terrified.
"... Ash?" Shorter breathes. He hears how heavy his own voice is. He's still panting.
"Shorter ..." Ash whines, but it's not a wanting whine. It's more ... scared.
"Are—are you okay?"
Ash bites down on his own lip, hard. Shorter sees a bit of red start to come to the surface. "Get off of me," Ash whispers. "Please."
"Huh? I—oh!" Shorter gasps, realizing that he's still on top of Ash, pressing his whole body down on him. He leans back, retreating to his own half of the couch. "I—I'm sorry."
Ash shakes his head. "You're good," he breathes. "It's cool."
It does not look cool.
Shorter pulls at the leg of his jeans, trying to hide any physical evidence of what that did to him. Fuck. Fuck! Did Ash not want to ... ? But he seemed so willing, and—or was Shorter just thinking with his dick? Was everything he saw just wishful thinking?
"You didn't want to, did you?" Shorter whispers. He stares at the controller on the floor.
Ash laughs, bitter and almost cruel. "Does it matter?"
"Ash!" Shorter yells. "Of course it matters! You—" You made me do that to you when you didn't want it?
But Ash didn't make him—not really. Whatever the hell happened, it's clear that Ash didn't want it, and Shorter's not sure whose fault this is.
"Did I hurt you?" Shorter asks. He's a little horrified with himself.
Ash shakes his head, and Shorter glances over at him. "Takes a lot more than that to hurt me," Ash promises. "You can go further, if you want. We can go all the way." Then, quieter, he adds, "Just use a condom."
"You don't want to, though, do you." It's not a question.
Ash does that stupid fucking one shoulder shrug again. Shorter wants to scream.
"I don't want to hurt you, Ash. I don't want to do anything that you don't want." God. Fuck. He should have—he should have known. He saw the way Ash acted with those kids in juvie. He should have ... should have known.
"Told you I'm a good kisser. I was right, huh?"
Shorter grimaces. "Ash ..." he starts.
"You can't deny it," Ash says, smirking.
"But you didn't like it."
Ash's smile drops.
"... You didn't, did you, Ash?"
"It's not your fault," Ash says quickly. "You were fine."
"Fucking hell," Shorter breathes.
"You're not a bad kisser or anything, I promise," Ash says, almost frantic. Almost afraid. "Like—it's really not your fault. You're ..." Ash curls up, small small small on the couch. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad," Shorter says. He's upset, but not with Ash. Not really. He just ... just wants this to make sense. It feels like nothing makes sense.
"It's okay if you're angry with me," Ash whispers. "I would be."
"Why do you think I'm angry?" Shorter asks. He's keeping his distance from Ash now, giving him as much space as he can without actually getting off of the couch.
"... Because I flinched away when the remote fell," Ash mumbles. In a different circumstance, Shorter might tease Ash for calling the controller a remote—but here ...
"If I ..." Trailing off, Shorter takes a breath, trying to think of how to word this. "If I were upset," he says, "that wouldn't be why."
Ash rolls over a little on the couch, looking up at Shorter. He looks fucking pathetic. "Then why?"
"Because you made me hurt you, Ash."
Ash's lower lip trembles just a little. "It's okay," he tries.
"That part isn't okay."
"I just ... you seemed to want ..." Ash sniffles, and Shorter grimaces. God. Fuck. How the hell are they going to get through this?
"But you didn't want it, did you?" Shorter presses softly.
Ash finally sobs. "I'm sorry!" he cries.
"It—I'm not angry—" Shorter starts, but cuts off with a yelp when Ash throws himself at him. For a moment, Shorter is worried that Ash will try to kiss him again—or more—but instead, Ash just sobs into Shorter's chest.
"I'm sorry ..." Ash whines.
"Oh," Shorter breathes. "Oh, Ash. It's okay." He cautiously places a hand on Ash's back, and when the kid doesn't flinch or pull away, Shorter pulls him into an embrace. "Hey. It's okay, okay?"
"Shorter, I—I—"
"I know you're sorry, buddy. It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have pushed you." I should have realized ...
Shorter brings one hand up Ash's back to rest behind his neck, protective. Ash curls into Shorter's lap and just cries into his shirt for a while, gripping onto the fabric like a child.
Ash ... Shorter thinks despairingly. Part of him wonders how he even could have been thinking with his dick just a few minutes ago, when Ash is—Ash is—
Ash is clearly hurting. Clearly in pain, emotional or otherwise. And Shorter just ...
But blaming himself won't help anything here.
He holds Ash close.
Several minutes later, Ash's crying has dissolved into soft hiccups.
"Are you okay?" Shorter whispers, afraid to break the relative silence.
Ash sniffles, ducking his head down into Shorter's shirt. " 'M fine," he mumbles, petulant.
"Ash ..." Shorter whispers. "You don't have to be okay."
Ash doesn't respond, and after a moment, Shorter just sighs.
"Why did you react like that?" he asks.
"Hm?" Ash looks up at him, finally, blinking up through teary eyes from his spot practically on Shorter's lap.
"Why were you so afraid? When the controller fell, and ... before that."
Ash averts his eyes. "I'm fucked up," he whispers. "Didn't you know that already?"
"But—Ash—"
"I'm fucked up," Ash repeats. "That's all there is to it."
"You're not," Shorter insists.
"You know that's a lie," Ash says with a soft laugh. He moves back, seeming to realize that he's still on top of Shorter. He retreats to his side of the couch. "I'm fucked up."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Ash laughs louder now, almost a snort. "What, you gonna play therapist and have me tell you my feelings?"
"Well ... yeah," Shorter admits. That kind of was the plan. After all, it doesn't seem like anyone else is going to offer that for Ash. "I guess."
"I'm just fucked up!" Ash shouts, retreating into himself. "Leave me the fuck alone."
I don't think I can, Shorter wants to say. Even if I did want to, I'm in too deep now.
They're both silent for a bit. The stupid fucking game is still running, menu screen music playing on loop. Distantly, Shorter wonders if there's an achievement for time spent on the menu in this game. Then he curses himself for letting his mind drift, and looks back over to Ash.
Ash is watching him.
"You okay, buddy?" Shorter tries asking again.
Ash blinks slowly. Then, "I get raped a lot."
"H-huh?" Shorter stammers. He hates that he's not as surprised as he wants to be.
"I get raped a lot," Ash repeats calmly. "Like ... a lot."
"I, um—"
"Don't say you're sorry," Ash snaps.
Shorter bites his lip. "But I am," he insists. "And I don't know what else to say."
"Not that," Ash says, almost smirking now. At least he seems to be feeling better.
Shorter picks at a stray thread on the fabric of the couch. "Ash ..." he starts.
"What is it?" Ash snaps.
"Are you sure you don't need to ... to talk about anything?"
"Are you sure you're not going to regret asking?" Ash retorts.
He has a point, honestly. Shorter probably will regret asking. But how could he not ask? How could he not offer Ash just this little, little bit of solace that he can offer?
Especially after ...
"I'm a prostitute," Ash says, after a long silence. He says it calmly, passively, as if it's as mundane as stating the weather. As if it's as obvious.
Maybe it should have been, and maybe Shorter is just fucking stupid. Or maybe Shorter just didn't want to think that far into Ash's behavior.
Maybe it was obvious.
Shorter nods, pretending like it was. He swallows. "Do you ... do you want to do that stuff?"
The one shoulder shrug. That's a no, then. Shorter's learning that Ash's maybe is usually a no.
"You don't have to, you know," Shorter blurts.
Ash raises an eyebrow.
"I—I mean—you could stay here, with me. I don't know how things are for you out there, Ash—I mean, are you living on the streets? You could stay with us. You don't have to ..."
The look on Ash's face brings Shorter to a stop. He's smiling, but it's sad, and he shakes his head.
"Sorry," Ash says simply. "Not an option."
"But why not?" Shorter presses.
"It's a little more complicated than that," Ash whispers. "It's a lot more complicated than that. But thank you. I ... Even if you didn't mean it, I appreciate you saying all of that."
"I mean it, Ash." I promise.
It's silent for a bit more, save the menu music.
Eventually, Ash speaks. "I won't make you do that stuff anymore," he whispers. "I won't lead you on."
"You weren't ..."
"Don't lie," Ash snaps. "I'm sorry. I won't, anymore."
"Okay," Shorter whispers. His voice breaks.
"Can ... can you play the game?" Ash asks, gesturing to the TV. "I don't want to go back yet. I want to watch you."
"You sure you don't want to play?" Shorter asks. He reaches for the controller on the floor, and Ash flinches back at the sudden movement.
"Sorry," Ash blurts. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," Shorter breathes. He offers the controller to Ash.
Ash shakes his head. "I just want to see you happy."
With a bit of a half smile, Shorter nods. "Okay," he agrees. He's not in the mood to argue, not even for Ash's happiness. He just wants to keep Ash here with him.
Within the hour, they're back to laughing, volume on the TV turned up higher than before. Shorter even manages to get Ash to play a bit, though it turns out that he is actually terrible at it.
They're laughing like kids again, hanging out as if they really are just high schoolers on the weekend.
But in the back of Shorter's mind, there's still a gang war, the taste of Ash's lips, and the words I get raped a lot.
He thinks, maybe, that some of that will never fully leave his thoughts.