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The Junior States Association is short on members.
“Fuck,” says Ash Lynx, 16-year-old IB student, projected valedictorian of his senior class, and president of the Junior States Association, “we need more members.”
“I heard you the first time, buddy,” Shorter says, tapping furiously at his game of PUBG.
Ash sits down on the floor and leans up so that his face appears right next to Shorter’s phone, fixing him with the biggest puppy eyes he’s ever seen. “Can you go get some more for me?”
Shorter sighs, turning off his game. “Why don’t you do it yourself? You’re a lot more convincing than I am.”
“Yeah, but,” Ash says, sitting back down next to Shorter at the lunch table, “you know more people than I do. And you’re hot as hell. You’re fucking jacked.” He leans back in his chair, twirling his hair in thought. “Like, if I weren’t myself, and you asked me to join JSA, then I would probably join immediately.”
“What do you mean, ‘if I weren’t myself’?” Shorter laughs, batting Ash’s hand away from his hair. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t join a club because of me.”
“I literally just said that I think you’re hot,” Ash says, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not like my opinion matters. You’re objectively hot, Shorter.”
“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Shorter says, nodding decisively. “Thanks man. I’ll go get some more people for you.”
Ash smiles sweetly at him, stealing a bite from Shorter’s meat bun. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Shorter knows exactly who he’s gonna ask.
_______________________
Fortunately, Shorter didn’t need to use his muscles on Eiji to convince him to join JSA— at least, not at first.
Eiji had insisted on supporting Shorter, but he paled when Shorter mentioned that Ash was going to be there. If Ash weren’t so intimidating, maybe Eiji wouldn’t have to be physically manhandled into seeing him.
“Eiji, please, you promised!” Shorter whines, dragging him mercilessly down the hallway. “Ash isn’t going to hurt you!”
“Maybe not physically!” Eiji says, glowering up at him. “He’ll probably make me feel bad for being dumb!”
“Eiji,” Shorter turns to face him and leans down to his height, “you’re not dumb. I mean, you’re dumb in comparison to Ash, but isn’t everyone? Plus, I’m his best friend and I’m dumb as shit compared to him, but he’s never condescending to me! He’s actually super nice.”
Standing back up to his normal height, Shorter resumes tugging Eiji along like a hostage at gunpoint. “And don’t feel so intimidated, he’s just a little nerd. I’m sure you’d be able to beat him in a fight with your huge, gargantuan arms.”
“He’s like, a lot taller than me though,” Eiji muses, looking down at his feet. “And his arms look pretty nice, too.”
“Nah, he’s pretty weak. I’ve arm wrestled with him before. He wouldn’t last five seconds against you.”
“Hmm… Somehow I doubt you.”
“What, you think you’d lose to Ash in a fight? He’s a fucking twig!”
Eiji pouts, puffing his cheeks out. “No, I’m just saying that he’s probably stronger than he looks! We’ve all learned not to underestimate him.”
Why does Eiji defend him so? It’s not like they know each other; Eiji doesn’t know that Ash is always too busy with school to work out with Shorter at the gym. Shorter crouches down so that he’s inches away from Eiji’s face, letting the crack of his knees echo loudly throughout the hallway.
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up over me calling Ash weak. Do you like him or something?”
Eiji is silent for a few moments, fidgeting with the sleeve of his letterman jacket, looking away to avoid the other boy’s scrutiny.
“Oh,” Shorter says softly, his eyes widening. He knows that Ash is beautiful, but he didn’t think he’d be Eiji’s type. He always thought that Eiji would fall for someone mild-mannered—someone as stupid and gorgeous as the rest of the jocks at their school—rather than someone like his overachieving best friend, who would someday like to spearhead a revolution.
The reality dawns on Shorter like the slow crawl of the sun over the horizon. Ash and Eiji are very different people, but if they come together, then they would surely complete each other. Eiji would gain a chemistry tutor after months of complaining about how chemistry “has too much math in it”, someone who would attend his pole vaulting meets and congratulate him with hugs and kisses. Ash would gain someone who would force him to work out more often, someone who would chant with him at protests, someone who he would rob a Whole Foods supermarket with.
He stands back up to the sight of Eiji holding a hand over his face in embarrassment, à la the “we irritating” girls.
“I was just joking, man,” Shorter says, grinning apologetically. “I’m sorry for startling you like that.”
“No, haha, it’s fine,” Eiji starts, “I’m just— I’m always gonna be super intimidated by him. He’s so fucking cool, Shorter! I really hope I don’t embarrass myself when I meet him today.”
Oh, Eiji, Shorter thinks, scanning over the delicate features of his face and the hard lines of muscle visible through his sleeves, Ash is going to like you so much.
“Just trust me bro, he’ll definitely like you. You’re more competent than you think, and even if he doesn’t recognize that, you have a ton of other qualities to make up for it!”
Eiji tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Like what?”
Shorter makes an aggressive-sounding noise, gesturing to Eiji’s cute little face. “Like that.”
_______________________
Shorter holds the door open for Eiji as they enter the dimly lit classroom, watching his wide eyes flicker from poster to poster in efforts to avoid Ash Lynx’s gaze. The man in question sits with his hands folded primly over a desk, looking every bit like the gorgeous anarcho-communist he is.
“Bro why are you just sitting there in the dark? Dramatic ass,” Shorter says, flicking on the rest of the lights.
“Why did you show up so early?”
“I just wanted to introduce you to my friend Eiji. He’s gonna be part of the JSA meeting today.”
“Eiji,” Ash stands to shake his hand, “it’s nice to meet you.”
Eiji hesitates for a moment, fixating on Ash’s long, outstretched fingers.
“Likewise,” he responds, gripping Ash’s hand against his sweaty palm, his eyes never leaving the delicate fingers curled around his own.
A heavy silence follows their introduction, stretching on much too long for anyone’s liking. It feels like Ash has been watching Eiji for hours now; Eiji can’t do anything more than stand there and fidget uncomfortably.
Eiji eventually clears his throat. “I see you’ve put a cardboard cutout of Karl Marx in the corner over there,” he says.
“I have.”
“Where can I… um, where can I get one of those?”
“Uh,” Ash says, looking helplessly at Shorter.
What? Shorter mouths.
What do I say? Ash mouths back.
Dude, I don’t know. Just say you don’t know, Shorter mouths.
“Ahaha… so what are you guys talking about?” says Eiji, chuckling in that distinct, breathy fuckboy way.
Ash is the kind of person who maintains eye contact with people through the cracks in the doors of bathroom stalls, but he seems to have lost all of that intensity. He has an IQ of over 200, for fuck’s sake, why does he need Shorter’s help to talk to cute boys?
“...I stole it,” he lies.
Shorter drops his head into his hands, screaming silently.
This is going to be a long fucking meeting.