Chapter Text
He wakes to a boot against his ribs, and blistering cold, settling into his bones.
“Hey, hot stuff, time to get up!”
That’s Billy, Ash thinks, and his lids, for a moment, refuse to open, seeming sealed shut against his cheeks.
“Let’s move, man! We ain’t got all days!”
Finally, he manages, forcing his eyes open.
He blinks, and feels the wet warmth of tears down his temples, even as the concrete beams of the stripped ceiling wash into view above him.
Right…
They’d taken up here last night.
Another, abandoned lot. The buildings here had no walls. Concrete blocks without insulation. It was colder in here than outside.
Ash had tried telling Billy so, last night. Had told him, ‘cause of its thermal mass, it was gonna’ act like a fuckin’ battery, absorbing and radiating the cold from outside. He’d also tried explaining if they tried sleepin’ on the concrete floors, it was gonna’ suck up all their bodyheat, too, and they’d probably fuckin’ freeze to death.
But Billy hadn’t listened. Had just smacked him upside the back ‘a his head and told him to get inside.
“Yo, Ash, get up, bitch! We got customers out there waitin’!”
Ash reaches up, digging the heels of his palms against his eyes, rubbing the exhaustion and rheum away, before finally forcing himself to sit up.
His joints are stiff as irons rods.
Already, he’s startin’ to shake.
Fuck…
He doesn’t wanna’ go out there today.
He looks up to find Billy, leaned back against the wall, starin’ at him hard, mouth twisted into a disapproving frown.
“Man, you’s a soft touch.” He pushes off. “Look at you, we ain’t even out in the cold yet, and already you’s shaking like a leaf.”
Ash looks away from him, and don’t care what Billy thinks as he brings his arms up around himself, trying uselessly to trap what little warmth he has left in his body.
He’d slept wearing his jacket, but a hell of a lotta’ good it’s done.
“… It’s colder in here than out there, asshole.” He mutters, and hears the scrap of Billy’s foot against the floor.
“What was that?” He asks, and Ash shakes his head.
“… Nothin’.” He says, rubbing at his arms before giving up, reaching for his sneakers.
He drags them on over his feet, gritting his teeth against the way his bones seem to grind together.
His fingers feel numb. So do his toes. He hopes it ain’t frostbite, though he don’t think so. Color looked normal.
Still, it’s hard doin’, tyin’ the laces. Can’t get a good grip, fingers fumblin’, and Billy is startin' to grow impatient.
“Jeez, would you hurry up?!” He snaps. “Fuck, Ash, we gonna’ miss the mornin’ rush with how slow you is.”
“I’m goin’ fast as I can, Billy. Goddamn, can’t feel my fuckin’ fingers.”
“Well boo fuckin’ hoo, pretty boy. Just wait’ll we get outside. It’s snowin’ harder ‘an hell out there.”
Ash ignores him, barely managing to get his laces in a fucked-up knot, stuffin’ their ends into his shoes.
Things weren’t gonna’ last much longer, he can tell.
Bottoms were comin’ unglued and shit.
“You ready or what?” Billy presses as Ash pushes himself to his feet.
“Gotta’ piss, first,” he huffs, shovin’ his hands into the pockets of his coat and Billy rolls his eyes.
“You was whimperin’ an’ shit in your sleep again last night,” the older boy calls to him as Ash moves off to do his business.
He feels himself go stiff, jaw clenching tight.
He doesn’t say anything, swallowing down the gasp which presses against his teeth as he undoes his button and fly, pullin’ himself out.
Fuck, it was God damn freezin’…
His piss comes out in spurts, muscles tightenin’ up. Bladder don’t wanna’ let go. It steams at it hits the ground.
He hears Billy moanin’ and groanin’ behind him, movin’ around restless, and Ash shifts back and forth on his feet, tryin’ to work some warmth into his body.
He knows, if Billy gets antsy enough, he’s like to take it out on him, and Ash’ don’t feel like dealin’ with that shit.
So he only gives himself enough time to empty out like half his bladder before he’s stuffin’ himself back in his pants and turning back to the older boy.
“Jesus Christ on a fuckin’ crutch, ‘bout fuckin’ time.” Billy snaps, cuffin’ Ash against his ear as he comes up beside him.
Ash reaches up to rub at the aching pain, frowning to himself.
“What time’s it anyway?” He asks, and Billy exhales loudly.
“Morin’, dipshit. Now lets get out there ‘fore all the rats scurry into their holes.”
Ash don’t say nothin’, following Billy out into the bleak morning air.
Snow falls at a steady pace. The kind that’s gonna’ stick and freeze. Overhead, the sky’s a ceiling of slate grey clouds, no sun to break through and warm the earth below.
Ash hates this.
He hates doin’ this with Billy.
Robbin’ people and shit.
Wasn’t right. But Billy didn’t care. And Billy called the shots.
Ash didn’t do what he said, Billy’d knock his teeth in, for sure.
They trudge through the already piling snow, ground slick beneath their feet. Ash keeps his head bowed against the crystalline flakes, comin’ in at an angle. Feels like small pin pricks against his skin.
Doesn’t think they’re gonna’ manage much in this weather.
People were gonna’ be in a worse mood than usual, even. They weren’t gonna’ wanna’ stop to talk to some obnoxious little kid.
But Billy didn’t care about that, neither.
This was the routine. ‘Least, it had been the past couple months. Things always slowed down in the winter. Not as many Johns curb crawlin’.
Take’s ‘em almost 45 minutes to make it through this shit weather, from Canal Street to Fulton. Crowds already thinned out, and it’s got Billy in a mood.
“Alright, well, gotta’ make do with what we got.” The older boy decides. “Now get out there and shake that sweet little ass ‘a yours, kid.”
This was the routine.
Ash acted as a distraction, keepin’ the people focused on him while Billy went through their pockets.
Didn’t really seem fair to Ash that he always had to be the one drawing attention, but Billy said it was on account of him havin’ such a pretty face. Said people’d be more like to stop and listen to someone good lookin’, and Ash knows that’s true. Only in his experience, it wasn’t never the kind of attention one would want.
And every time it went wrong, Ash was almost always the one who got the shit end of the stick.
Ash does it anyway.
He manages to keep a few folks distracted long enough for Billy to lift their wallets and rummage around in their bags.
Ash thinks they should call it quits ‘fore they get caught, but Billy says they ain’t got enough yet, so Ash keeps at it.
“ ‘Scuse me.” He starts in on one guy, can smell the wealth comin’ off him. Three piece Valentino underneath a knee length cashmere coat, fat Rolex on his wrist. “‘Scuse, me, Sir. Hey, hey, you got the time?”
The man stops, staring down at him, and Ash can tell from the curl ‘a his lip, he ain’t pleased at the interruption.
Behind him, Billy nods at him to keep goin’, and Ash pushes down the twist of nerves boilin’ in his gut.
“You got the time, Sir?” He asks again.
The man looks away, starts to step around him, and Billy gestures at him to cut the guy off.
Ash scrambles to do so.
“Sir, I just gotta’ know the time.” He keeps pressing, and the guy’s lookin’ at him now with open disgust. “I… I got some place to be, Sir. Gotta be there by eight A.M, ya know? So…”
“Get out of my way, you filthy little tramp.” The man spits, again stepping to move around.
And again, Ash blocks his path, and his heart’s hammerin’ hard against his ribs as Billy starts pickin’ through the man’s pockets.
“Please, Sir, just the time…”
He doesn’t react fast enough to dodge the man’s hand, comin’ down across his mouth.
The world flips on its head, and Ash tastes blood over his tongue ‘fore the ground comes up to smack against the back ‘a his skull.
Vision bursts white and ears feel like they’s filled with cotton, everything goin’ mute and soft.
The man’s on top of him, then, and he gets another hit in, knuckles crushin’ down against Ash’s left eye, and Ash’s heart is beatin’ mad wild inside his chest, a sick fear chokin’ at his throat.
He hears Billy screamin’, and sees him through his blurring vision, hands buried in the collar of the man’s coat, tryin’ to pull him off.
Ash swallows a mouthful ‘a blood, nauseas through his gut, and when the man’s hand comes down to smack him another blow, Ash reaches out, grabbin’ his wrist. And he’s pullin’ the man’s hand into his teeth and bitin’ down, hard as he can.
The man screams, loud and high, and he’s fallin’ back, and Billy manages to pull him off, finally.
Ash scrambles to his feet, backin’ away and starin’ wide-eyed as the man holds his bleeding hand against his chest, face pale with fear.
“Y-you bit me!” He cries. “Oh God, you bit me! Oh Jesus, you’re probably diseased!”
Ash looks at him, and the man’s startin’ to shake, and Billy blows past him, grabbin’ Ash by the arm.
“COME ON!” He yells, letting him go, and finally Ash snaps from it.
He turns, and Billy’s already ten meters ahead.
He sprints after him, the man’s screaming voice fading at his back.
They don’t stop runnin’ ‘til they reach Chambers Street, Ash’s lungs burstin’ to flames inside his chest as finally they slow to a stop.
And Billy’s laughin’ and laughin’, wheezin’ breaths through his teeth, billowing like smoke.
Ash bends over, hands on his knees.
Air’s like knives out here, slicin’ him up with every pull.
“Holy shit, that was crazy!” Billy gasps, and Ash looks up at him, irritated. Don’t know what he thinks was so funny.
Billy looks back, standing straight. He reaches into his coat pocket, pullin’ a shiny, leather wallet free.
“Check it out!” He grins, wavin’ the thing in the air, and Ash pushes himself up, wipin’ at his lip.
The back of his hand comes away, smeared in red.
Face ache’s somethin’ awful, bones shiftin’ uncomfortably.
Billy has the wallet open, and he’s pullin’ plastic from the sleeves.
“Yo,” he holds one out for Ash to see. “American Express.”
“He’ll cancel ‘em before we can use ‘em.” Ash warns, and Billy huffs.
“I fuckin’ know that.” He says, tossin’ it over his shoulder, along with the others.
And then he’s pullin’ a fat stack ‘a green.
“Fuckin’ jackpot,” he whistles low. “Look at all this dough!”
It’s mostly tens and twenties. A couple ‘a hundreds. A few fifties.
It’s a serious haul, and Ash feels his own spirts lift as Billy starts countin’ it out.
“Goddam, there’s almost five hundred bucks here!” He declares, and now Ash is laughin’ too. Don’t even hardly notice the pain in his jaw.
Billy slaps him against the shoulder.
“Hell, kiddo, you sure know how to pick ‘em! Shit, this’ll last us a Goddamn week!”
And Ash feels a little proud despite himself.
They decide to celebrate with meatball sandwiches, huddlin’ near the radiator at the back of the deli.
It’s almost painful how warm it is, after all that runnin’ around in the cold.
For a while, neither of ‘em says nothin’, and Ash loses himself in the meal.
Ain’t had nothin’ proper to eat in three or four days, and he’s fuckin’ starvin’.
He feels Billy’s eyes on him though, and finally he looks up at the older boy, sees Billy frowin’.
“What?” He asks, self-conscious.
Billy snorts.
“Nothin’. Just thinkin’ you gonna’ have a hard time pickin’ up Johns with that shiner you got goin’. Damn, that shit’s nasty.”
Ash stares at him.
For a moment, he doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about.
But as if in reminder, his left eye starts throbbin’, a dull, growin’ ache through the socket.
He reaches up, pressin’ his fingers over his brow, hissing at the flare of hot agony.
Now that he’s thinkin’ about it, the pain seems to worsen by the second, and he realizes the eye’s startin’ to close, his vision obscured by the swelling.
Shit…
“Well don’t fuss with it!” Billy reaches out, smackin’ his hand away. “We gotta’ get you some ice or somethin’.”
And all at once, Ash feels his good mood vanish, his appetite goin’ with it.
He stares at his half-eaten sub, and his stomach hurts.
“Ah, jeez, quit with your mopin’.” Billy must notice, and Ash flinches back at the feel of his hand on his lips. “Would ya hold still?! You got sauce all over your face!”
Ash blinks up at him, and realizes Billy’s only wipin’ at his mouth with a napkin.
“Swear to fuck, you like a little kid, smearin’ your food an’ shit. How old’s you now, anyway?”
Ash’s eyes fall away, face hot with shame.
“… Eleven.” He mutters, and Billy huffs.
“Well that’s practically a man. Damn, boy, gotta’ get you some self-respect.”
Ash pushes Billy’s hand away, turning his face as Billy reaches for him again.
“I can do it myself.” He says, and finally, Billy pulls back.
“If you say so.”
Ash doesn’t look at him as he balls up a napkin, wipin’ at his mouth, paper comin’ away orange and red.
Lips busted, too.
Billy’s right. Ain’t no Johns’ gonna’ pick him up, lookin’ like used meat.
“You gonna’ finish that or what?” Billy asks after a moment, and Ash shakes his head.
“You can have it.” He whispers, and Billy shrugs, takin’ the unfinished sandwich and wolfin’ it down.
“Come on.” He stands from his seat, droppin’ a twenty on the table. “Let’s get you some shit for that eye.”
Ash doesn’t protest, standin’ with him, slipping his coat back on and following him back onto the streets.
Snow’s comin’ down even harder than before, the cold an awful shock after lettin’ themselves warm up.
They go into a gas station, and the guy at the counter’s lookin’ at ‘em all suspicious. Thinks they gonna’ steal shit.
Well, they probably would, if they hadn’t scored so big.
They mill around a while, pickin’ up bags ‘a chips and a six-pack ‘a Coke.
Ash checks out a rack ‘a gloves, and asks Billy if they can buy some. He thinks, maybe, the thing that hurts him most in cold like this were his fingers. And his ears. Man, those got to achin’ so bad sometimes, Ash thought he might start cryin’.
But Billy tells him they’re too expensive. Tells him to keep lookin’ through thrift shops or dumpsters. Says he’s sure to find a pair eventually.
Ash swallows down his disappointment, puttin’ the gloves back.
“Yo, you got any, like, ice packs?” Billy calls to the clerk.
The man frowns at them. Looks disgusted.
“Bottom left shelf, isle three.” He answers anyway, and Ash trails after Billy.
“This the kind’a shit professional fighters use, man.” Billy says, pickin’ the pack up off the shelf. “Fuckin’ ripoff, though. Eight bucks?! Shit, I ain’t payin’ that.”
“Let’s just get a bag ‘a peas or somethin’.” Ash suggests, and Billy glances at him, frowning.
Ash don’t wait for a response, movin’ past him to the frozen foods.
“Works just about as good.” He says, pullin’ a bag from the freezer.
“I guess.” Billy doesn’t sound convinced.
At the counter, the clerk’s still got that mistrustful look, and he tells ‘em to empty out their pockets.
“Fuck you, man!” Billy snaps. “We ain’t steal nothin’!”
“Oh, and I guess I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” The man asks.
“Yeah, exactly.” Billy hisses, and Ash elbows him in the ribs.
“Just show him your pockets, man.” He says, pullin’ his own inside out.
Billy mutters about it, but does it anyway.
“Where’d you get the wallet?” He clerk asks.
“None ‘a your fuckin’ business, bitch!” Billy snaps, and the man’s face goes red with anger.
“You little bastards!” He sneers. “Get the hell outta’ my store! Goddamn whores, you’ll scare away my customers!”
Ash tosses a five onto the counter, reaching for the peas, and the man snatches them away.
“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “I said out!”
“The fuck, man? We payin’ for it!” Billy tries takin’ the bag outta’ the clerks hand.
The man slaps Billy, hard across the mouth, knockin’ him over onto his ass.
Ash doesn’t think.
There’s a rack ‘a cheap-ass snow globes, next to the counter, and Ash has one in his hand, and he’s lobbin’ it at the man’s face, hard as he can, hittin’ him square between the eyes.
The man chokes out in shock, knocked back against the rows of tobacco. He’s bleedin’, a big gash over his brow.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!” He starts screamin’. “I’M CALLIN’ THE COPS!” And Billy’s already up and they’re runnin’ from the place, back out onto the streets.
“That nasty old fuck!” Billy’s shoutin’ once they’re half-a-dozen blocks away. “Fuckin’ piece ‘a shit put his hands on me!”
“Yeah, but I got ‘im one good. Did ya see?” Ash asks.
Billy keeps wipin’ at his mouth, checkin’ for blood. But the guy really didn’t hit him that hard.
Ash figures it was more the shock that put him down.
“Yeah, well, fuck that guy.” Billy complains. “Hope he has a fuckin’ heart attack or somethin’.”
He looks at Ash, then, eyes narrowed.
“You a tough little sonofabtich, Ash.” He says. “Damn, ‘tween that and Mr. Money bags. Shoulda’ seen the look on that guy’s face when you bit him.” He laughs, and Ash looks away.
Don’t wanna’ talk about that.
“Didn’t get our stuff.” He mutters, kickin’ at a puddle ‘a slush.
It bleeds through the canvas of his sneakers, but his socks already soaked through, so...
“Nah, guess not.” Billy shrugs. “Well, here, use this…”
He reaches down, gatherin’ a bunch ‘a snow and packin’ it tight. He hands it to Ash, and Ash takes it, ignoring the way it burns against the tips ‘a his fingers.
Billy keeps lookin’ at him like he’s got somthin’ to say, and Ash wishes he’d lay off.
He knows what it is.
He’s always askin’ Ash questions ‘bout how it is he’s so scrappy. Or ‘bout how it is, he’s so good at hustlin’, and Ash don’t ever give him no kinda’ real answers.
How’s he supposed to explain to him about Dino’s club?
‘Bout why it is, sometimes, he disappears for days, even weeks on end?
Or like this mornin’, him pointin’ out how Ash was whimperin’ again in his sleep.
Billy always wonderin’ about that, too, and Ash can’t tell him nothin’.
He thinks Billy’s lucky, bein’ kinda’ ugly as he is.
Guys like Dino wouldn’t have no interest. Guys like Marvin and Garvey wouldn’t come lookin’…
He presses the snowball against his eye, swallowin’ down the hiss which tries slippin’ past his teeth.
“Well, come up.” Billy gives up this time, and Ash is relieved. “Let’s see if we can’t meet up with the others. Tonight’s gonna’ be a bitch, man.”
And he’s right.
Temps drop’ deadly low as evening rolls around.
Most ‘a the other boys give up after an hour, Billy included.
He disappears with ‘em. Takes the money from their haul.
Ash figured he would. He usually did, and then sometimes Ash couldn’t find him for days.
By the time he did, Billy and some ‘a the others might’ve blown the whole take on drugs, so he knows he don’t got the luxury of callin’ it quits himself.
Billy was into smack. That was a bad one.
He’d tried gettin’ Ash to try it a few times, but Ash wasn’t dumb enough to get into that shit. Billy thought he was bein’ stuck up or somethin’, but that wasn’t it.
Was hard enough survivin’ out here without havin’ to pay for an addiction. And besides, Ash’d had his fill ‘a bein’ high. Doesn’t know how to explain to the others it wasn’t the escape they seemed to think it was.
In his experience, only thing it meant was losin’ control. And hadn’t nothin’ good ever come from losin’ control. Not for him, anyway.
He’s lucky, though, he guesses, that the others’ve split. There ain’t much action tonight, but for those bravin’ the weather, he’s the only show left in town.
So even with his face all busted, he gets picked up. Gives a couple hand jobs. Gives some head.
Finally, one ‘a his regulars shows, and he invites Ash up to a room, tells him he wants to pay to have him for the night, and Ash ain’t in no position to turn him down.
It means sex, but it also means a couple hundred.
It’s better than freezin’ to death, he figures.
And Tony ain’t so bad compared to some ‘a the others, though Ash could do without his piss fetish.
Last time, he’d wanted to pee in Ash’s mouth, and Ash don’t like to think ‘bout how he’d let him. But he’d been desperate.
Like he was desperate tonight.
So he ain’t exactly surprised when Tony asks to do it again.
For a moment, Ash thinks about tellin’ him no. Tellin’ him to fuck off.
But then he thinks ‘bout spendin’ another night out there, in the cold and snow. How it’s too late, probably, to get into one ‘a the shelters. And Billy’s probably gonna’ be gone for days, if he’s on a nod…
He’s gonna’ need the money, then, to make it through the rest ‘a this shitass storm. Ash’d checked the forecast in the paper earlier. Thing was gonna’ last at least ‘til Thursday.
And Ash can always just brush his teeth later. He’s got a toothbrush in his bag.
So he tells Tony sure, and lets the fucker piss in his mouth. And Tony jerks off while he’s doin’ it, and comes in Ash’s face.
It’s fuckin’ disgusting, but ‘least Tony don’t smack him around or put his hands ‘round his throat. He tries wipin’ the come off Ash’s face. Tell’s him he’s sorry.
Ash don’t let him. Cleans it off himself.
The sex is awful, but it always is.
Ash tries to think ‘a nothin’ while Tony pushes into him. Keeps his eyes fixed on the dinged-up headboard in front ‘a him. Tries pickin’ out patterns in the grain’ ‘a the wood, ‘til finally, Tony finishes, pullin’ outta’ Ash and rollin’ over onto his back.
Ash sits up, and scoots toward the edge of the mattress.
“Hey,” Tony stops him, and when Ash turns to look at him, he nods toward his flaccid cock, the rubber wet and saggin’ off it. “Take it off me?”
Ash barely manages to keep his face from twistin’.
Don’t wanna’ touch that shit, but then he guesses that’s silly, considerin’ everything else.
So he peels the rubber off, tryin’ it and tossin’ it in the waste bin.
Tony tries reaching for him. Tries brushin’ his knuckles against Ash’s cheek, and Ash turns his face aside to avoid it.
Don’t miss the hurt look in Tony’s eyes, and Ash can’t figure what’s wrong with guys like him.
It was like they really believed this was some sorta’ legit relationship. Like it was love or somethin’.
Guess they couldn’t handle the truth, which was that they could only get off on rapin’ little boys.
Ash pushes off the mattress, goin’ through his bag for his toothbrush and paste, and heads for the bathroom.
Brushes his teeth about five times before he’s satisfied. ‘Til he can’t taste the acidic burn ‘a Tony’s piss against his tongue.
After, he stays in the shower as long as he’s able, ‘til the water runs cold, and he’s relieved when he steps out to find Tony asleep on the bed, his fat stomach slick with sweat, flabby chest risin’ and fallin’ in an even pattern.
Ash pulls a pillow from the bed, movin’ to lye near the radiator.
He won’t sleep, he knows. Not with a John in the room.
But at least he was warm.
That was more than he had most nights.
In the mornin’, he’ll try finding Billy.
Tries not to think about how, one ‘a these days, he’ll go lookin’, and he’ll find Billy dead, probably with a needle in his arm.
Or maybe he won’t find Billy at all, but he’ll know just the same…
It’s what happened to all ‘em, eventually.
Him and all the rest.
They just… went away…
Gone like they were never even here…