Disclaimer: Ok all I don't own newsies. OH and this is my first slash...
Fear, for once in his life Spot Conlon felt fear. Not just a stupid fear like of the dark or of spiders, no, this was a heart grabbing fear that rushed through his body like adrenaline. He ran his fingers through his blonde locks and looked up at the sky. His fingers were trembling and his heart racing as he switched his gaze to the pure waters of the East River. He tried to focus his gaze on the light bouncing off the tips of the choppy waves but his mind wouldn't allow him that serene peace.
"What the hell did I do?" He muttered aloud to himself and tossed a blood red marble into the murky depths of the waters below. He sat on the edge of the dock and just looked out to sea. Then the fear started again, creeping slowly back into his heart, the hate that would come at him from all over.
"I ain't...I can't be..." Spot lit a cigarette and took a nervous drag. He let out a long hard sigh. "Holy shit I am..." Everything at one time seemed to race through his mind. Especially the events of the previous hours of the day. He couldn't believe what went on, how it even happened or why. No, he knew why, that answer was simple. Now that he knew, he just had to face it head on, and take whatever punishments he received for it. So here he was sitting at the docks and smoking like a chimney, his mind replaying the one thing he wanted but couldn't have.
Race bit on the end of his cigar and stared at Spot, who was standing straight in front of him.
"Conlon whadda ya want? It's not everyday Hattan gets a visit from the King of Brooklyn."
"Not everyday da King of Brooklyn don't know what da hell he's doin." Spot replied coyly and smirked.
"Whadda ya mean?" Race asked raising an eyebrow at him.
"Hell if I know Race, I don't know nothin no more, I don't even know what I want no more." Spot ran his fingers through his hair, his one nervous habit.
"Would you relax! Yer makin me all paranoid." Race grabbed Spot's face in his hands and looked straight into his swirling gray abyss's. "Breathe...an' what da hell brought dis on anyways?"
Spot just stared back at Race, into those pools of milky chocolate, taking in the softness of his eyes. Spot slowly brought his hand to Race's face and brushed his cheek with his own calloused knuckles. He moved his hand from Race's cheek and plucked the brown cigar from his mouth, tossing it on the floor.
"What are..." Race's voice was cut off by Spot gently brushing his lips against Race's. Almost immediately Race shoved Spot away. "You're a fuckin fag! Holy shit Conlon!"
That's when Spot's breath surged to his throat. He couldn't breathe and immediately turned and ran, ran back to Brooklyn. Brooklyn wouldn't hide him for long. Soon Race would tell all the boys and then, then Spot would get the beating of a lifetime, hopefully making it out alive.
Spot ran his fingers over his lips; still feeling the warmth of Race's against his. He licked them slowly trying to wash the feeling away. The feeling of how right it felt to kiss Race, to kiss another boy. Then disgust filled him, how was this right? Didn't he need to find a girl, a wife, start a family? Yet he couldn't picture himself that way. He only wanted to feel Race's hand in his and steal kisses in the night. He looked down at the waters of the East River, the sound of the rushing waves filling his ears, and not able to see the bottom.
Spot smirked.
"Good thing I can't swim." Spot turned his head back around and took one last glance back at Brooklyn, the one place he ruled supreme, where he wouldn't be remembered as anything less than the fearless leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He stood up from his seated position and watched the light flicker off the waves, saw it sparkling like diamonds across the dirty water. He jumped.
Splash!
He didn't struggled, and he didn't scream, he just let his body sink to the depths of the East River in silence. Drowning his own tortured soul in the waters.