Hi there. I just got a muse yesterday and typed this out. It's meant to be a one-shot. It'll be my first One-shot. Please review and let me know what you think. So here's Spectacles & Rain
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the newsies. I probably don't even own the idea seeing as how no one has ever had an original thought EVER! It's all about who claims it first. So if no one has claimed this idea then. :::sprawls out on story::: IT'S MY IDEA MUHAHAHAHA! Unfortunately the characters aren't.
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Rain pounded the windows of the lodging house. The water stayed on the window making it impossible to see outside clearly. But even if the windows were clear. The darkness wouldn't allow them to see the outside clearly anyway.
The newsies were fast asleep, tired from a hard days work, but knowing that they would have to wake up and do it all again tomorrow. All of them hoped the rain would be gone by morning. Selling in the rain made the most miserable days. But the sleeping newsboys worried none, but dreamt silently, except for Jack, who was snoring, Dutchy, who was deep breathing, and Snipeshooter murmured in his sleep about cigars. But there was one who couldn't sleep. He was too tired to sleep.
Specs stared out the window. He listened to the soft rain and watched the water roll down the window. Normally he didn't mind the rain at night. It usually relaxed him and would fall asleep. But Specs knew that it was still going to be raining in the morning. That's when the "indifference" turned into absolute loathing. For selling papes in the rain didn't mean just getting wet for him. He had a problem that none of the other newsboys could relate to, except for Duchy, the raindrops would splatter on his glasses, making it impossible to see. Specs was blind with his glasses, and even more blind without them.
Specs turned his head to his night table, there he could faintly make out the image of his black-rimmed glasses. He hated them, almost as much as he hated the rain pounding on window. Specs needed to get up, he picked up his glasses and placed them on his head. The bunk squeaked as Specs got out of his bottom bunk. He paused and listened to see if he woke anyone up.
…………..Snipeshooter rolled over…. and began munching on his pillow. Specs shook his head and stood up. He walked across the floor, stepping over the boards he knew would make the loudest creeks. An expertise that only came with living in the same place for most your life. With as much stealth as possible, Specs cleared it to the doorway and walked up the stairs. The stairs that lead to the roof. He stopped at the doorway, he could hear the rain pound on the roof. Specs took off his glasses, and opened the door. The door creek was nothing compared to the immense sound of the rain. It thundered on the roof, leaving large puddles of water.
Specs took off his glasses and set them down on the last step before the outside. He stepped out of the doorframe. Immediately getting soaked. Wearing only thin trousers and no shirt. It was cold at first, but then he started to get numb. He couldn't feel it anymore. He couldn't feel anything. He walked to the edge, his thoughts turned to the rain that trickled down the back of his neck. His rotten life. He wouldn't amount to anything, he had always thought. He was born in poverty, he'd die in poverty, leaving his kids to live the same cruel world he had. He kicked the ledge. It started soft. But with every passing thought the kicks became harder and faster. He was probably bruising his foot, but he didn't care. All that mattered at this moment was kicking the crap out of the brick ledge.
"I hate this." He mumbled. Kick. "I hate this." Kick. "I hate this." Kick. This continued, but Specs didn't know how long. It could've been seconds, minutes, even hours, but his leg was in mid air when he was interrupted.
"SPECS" someone yelled.
Specs turned around, his wet hair falling into his eyes. He saw a blurred image at the door.
"SPECS" he yelled again, trying to make himself heard over the rain, but smart enough to not go out in it. "SPECS YOU MORON, GIT IN 'ERE BEFORE YA FREEZE TA DEATH!"
Specs sighed and walked toward the door. He walked inside and stopped on the first step. The boy closed the door and some noise the rain was making was blocked out. Meanwhile, Specs was kneeling placing his hand on random spots where his glasses would be. He nearly panicked when he couldn't find them.
"Lookin' for these." The other newsboy held out Specs' glasses. Specs grabbed them and put them on while he sat on the stair.
"What do you want Snipes?" Specs glared at the small boy.
"I want ya ta go back ta bed before ya catch pneumonia and die." He smirked.
"Fine." Specs up and started to stand up.
"Not like that you ain't." Snipeshooter pushed him back down. The boys were now talking in loud whispers. Snipes continued, "You're soaked! An' Kloopy ain't gunna be too happy to find water all ovah the floor. You wait 'ere. I'm getting' ya a towel an' some new trousers." Snipes quietly jumped down the stairs and turned the corner.
Faster then Specs would've liked, Snipeshooter returned and handed him the items. Specs snatched them from the younger newsie and started to rub the towel in his hair. During this time Snipeshooter sat down next to Specs. Close enough to still talk quietly, but far enough away to keep away from the puddle of water Specs was leaving on the stairs. Specs turned to look at Snipes, the towel still on his head. He did his best to shoot an ok-now-go-to-bed-before-I-kill-you face. Either Snipeshooter didn't see it, or just chose to ignore it.
"So what do ya 'hate'?" Snipes asked, breaking the silence.
"Besides you?"
"Geez Specs, git the stick outta yer ass! You'se were shouting, 'I hate this' ya could at least let me know what 'this' ya hate!"
Specs still stared at him.
"Of course," Snipes continued, "I bet I could find someone downstairs who'd be willin' ta talk to ya." He stood up, "maybe I'll jist wake 'em all up, I'm sure they wouldn't mind talkin' to ya."
"Sit down Snipes!" Specs ordered, he knew better then waking up a lodging house filled with tired newsboys. He didn't want to die that way. Snipeshooter smiled at his victory and eagerly sat down.
"So what do ya hate?" Snipeshooter repeated his question.
"A lot of things." Specs looked away.
"Care ta be a little more specific?" Snipes raised an eyebrow.
"It's nothin'!" Specs stood up and began to change out of his wet trousers. Snipes leaned back and looked at the ceiling.
"Must be a big nothing." Snipeshooter was being sarcastic, "I mean it was big enough ta get ya outta bed at four in da mornin', go out in da biggest storm since 1897, and beat up a poor defenseless wall screamin' 'I hate this'." Snipeshooter shook his head, it alerted in mock realization, "Yer right Specs, it's probably nothin'." He looked up. A now, dry and clothed Specs held his soaked trousers in one hand.
"Snipes I think ya need ta stop 'aning around Race." Specs suggested. Snipeshooter shook his head.
"So ya gunna tell me what's botherin' you?" He asked.
"A lot of things."
"Such as?"
"The rain mostly." Specs told the truth.
Snipeshooter laughed a little. "So why go out in it?"
"I don't know, couldn't sleep either. I hate the rain. Every time it rains I might as well be blind."
"Don'tcha have glasses?" Snipeshooter raised an eyebrow.
"Snipes, glasses an' rain don't mix."
"hmm" Snipes thought, "nevah thought of that."
"Yeah, I suppose ya wouldn't." Specs snapped.
"Hey!" Snipeshooter stood up. "I may jist be a lowly 13-year-old in your eyes, an' I couldn't possibly know what goes in the minds of a 17-year-old." Snipeshooter was being sarcastic, "but I've been around long enough ta know a few things. Yeah life sucks, so ya deal with it, no, we ain't the most blessed and loved membahs of society, butcha go out an' live yer life anyway an' if we do that, if we stick together, we'll turn out better then our dad."
Specs got unusually quiet. Snipeshooter sat down and began talking again, "You ain't like him Specs, yer not gonna turn out like him, yer not gunna go out drinkin' every night leavin' your family to fend for themselves. You may be a spittin' image of him, and you may have gotten his bad eyesight, butcha nevah gunna be him. Understand?"
Specs let out a small smile and looked at his brother, "when did ya get so smart?"
Snipes smiled proudly, "Specs, I've always been smart, you jist been kickin' da wall too long ta notice."
Specs shook his head, "go downstairs, I'll be down in a minute."
"How do ya know that I won't wake up the entire lodging house an' tell 'em ya kick a wall in rainstorms for fun?" Snipeshooter smiled.
"Because if ya do." Specs leaned in, "I'll tell 'em you munch on yer pillow."
Snipeshooter rolled his eyes, "'ate ta tell ya, but that's old news."
"Fine," Specs shook his head, "I'll jist tell Race where 'is fixed dice went."
"But that was six-months ago." Snipeshooter pointed out, "an' Boots took 'em."
"yeah, but he doesn't know that an' he's still lookin' ain't he?"
"Alright, won't tell a soul." Snipeshooter crossed his heart.
"There we go." Specs said and stood up. Snips did too. They were silent the rest of the way down to their beds. Snipeshooter climbed into his bottom bunk as did Specs. Specs set his glasses on the night table. The once thin cotton sheet that was freezing now was a warm as the thickest wool. Snipeshooter fell right asleep, needing the two hours more sleep, before Kloppmen would come up with his broom to wake the newsboys up. The rain still poured outside. But Specs didn't mind it nearly as much now. He ignored the pain in his foot, he knew it would be bruised in the morning. But instead, he rolled over and was soon, like his brother, asleep.
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ahhhh….what a nice ending. Doesn't that make you want to click the 'review' button? I think it does. ::: smiles::: hey, kidding. Thanks for reading have a nice day.