Newsies belongs to Disney and Welcome To My Life belongs to Simple Plan. I apologize if this seems all over the place or confusing, but I've had this idea for a while and decided to give it a try. I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to FF&R!

"You know, sometimes I don't know how I even try to deal with you!" Morris growled at his younger brother, shoving him back against the wall. Oscar stumbled slightly but quickly straightened up, glaring at his older brother so harshly Morris almost shrank back in fear. "Then why do you, huh? You don't have a reason to!" Oscar snarled. His face paled as Morris drew himself back up again, keeping his expression blank. Oscar found himself backing away from his brother, afraid. He was afraid of the one person who supposedly cared about him.

"I don't, because you're right. There's no reason for me to care about you. You can't carry your own weight, you rely on me for everything... You're absolutely pathetic," Morris spat. He spun on his heels and stormed off, leaving his brother staring after him, his eyes filled with shock and hurt. Oscar buried his head in his hands, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. He wouldn't like something like this bother him. He'd been through worse.

Oscar Delancey tried to keep his signature sneer on his face as he shoved another stack of papes at one of the younger newsies, making them whimper softly and scurry off. Morris laughed at his antics and gave him a grin, but Oscar could see the in-genuineness of it. It was just like his. Oscar quickly looked down as he felt tears beginning to swim, frantically picking up more newspapers and counting them for the next newsie. The hateful glares made Oscar want to cry. He wanted to tell the newises to leave him alone, even though they never really did much to him in the first place. He was always the one to push them around, or knock them to the ground. But none of them understood that he didn't want to do any of that. They didn't understand anything about him.

"Oscar? You alright?" Morris muttered to him under his breath when no one seemed to be near them. Oscar's hands started to tremble, remembering last night. The things his brother had said to him in particular. Oscar was about to reply when he was interrupted by the all-too familiar laugh of Racetrack. Oscar's fists clenched and he braced himself for the usual onslaught of insults that spilled out of Race's mouth non-stop. Oscar tuned Race out as best as he could, but his hands still shook and Morris was still giving him that same concerned look.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," Oscar muttered under his breath.

"Morris, please talk to me! What's going on with you?! You were gone all night! I was worried!" Oscar begged after all of the newsies had left. Morris ignored his younger brother, rolling the platform of leftover newspapers back into The World. He hoped he wasn't shaking, that he didn't look as scared as he felt. Oscar couldn't find out about anything. "Morris!" Oscar shouted, grabbing his older brother by the arm and forcing him to face him. Morris kept his face neutral, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at Oscar. He tensed when he saw how utterly hopeless Oscar looked, how desperate his eyes searched his face for any sign of love.

"You asked me if I was okay. Why? After last night, I thought-" Morris forced a smirk on his face, cutting his brother off when he said, "Oh, I did? Sorry, slip of the tongue. You're fine anyways." And for the second time in too short a time, Morris left his brother behind. But what was different this time was the tears spilling over and rolling slowly down his cheeks.

Morris Delancey slammed the door of the dingy apartment he and Oscar shared with their Uncle shut, breathing heavily and grabbing at his hair. Pulling the lock out from its hiding place, Morris locked the door, jiggling the handle once just to make sure. When he knew it was locked, Morris collapsed into a chair at the table, buried his head in his arms, and started to sob. Hot, wet tears of anger and bitter shame soon soaked the sleeves of his neat white shirt. Morris inhaled sharply before lifting up his head and letting out a scream; a scream filled with frustration, guilt, anger, humiliation, sorrow, apology...

He wanted to run away from all this. He wanted to run away from Oscar, from his horrible Uncle, from this stupid city, from his life. He didn't know why he was being so cruel to his brother. Oscar was literally the only thing good in Morris' miserable excuse for a life. But when it came to hating oneself, no one was really left unharmed. Morris let out another frustrated scream and got to his feet, whirling around and punching the wall so hard the one small picture they owned fell to the floor. Morris didn't even glance at it, instead going over to the mattress he and Oscar shared and pulling out the suitcase from underneath it. Opening, he stared at the contents. Several sets of clothes, the few belongings Morris possessed, including a picture of him and Oscar as kids, a notebook and some pencils,a few dollars, cigarettes, and a small knife.

Morris' hands shook as he picked up the small blade, studying it, before rolling up his sleeves and poising the blade over his wrist. He was shaking more violently, whether it was from anticipation or fear, he had no idea. Morris made one small cut, barely enough to make him bleed, and stopped. Shaking his head, he put the pocket knife away and clicked the suitcase shut, wiping his eyes and sighing. It wasn't time yet. Morris still had a little time left. A little time to make his brother understand.

Oscar let out a small gasp of pain as Morris punched him in the gut, sending him to his knees. He clenched his eyes shut and curled up, bringing up his hands to try and protect his head. Morris kicked and hit him mercilessly, a pained expression on his face the whole time. A pained expression his little brother never noticed, never took the time to care about. When Morris was done he just stood there, watching as Oscar shook slightly and fought back tears. Morris' pained look faded into a dry smile and he kicked Oscar once more for 'good measure'.

"Don't cry. That's showing weakness. You'll never make it if you show weakness," Morris said coldly, moving away from his brother and lying down on their mattress. Oscar tried to get to his feet, but a pain shot through his ribs so bad that he collapsed to the ground, letting out a strangled cry. He thought he heard Morris tell him to shut up, but he couldn't quite tell. It wasn't like he cared anyways. Not anymore.

The newsies thought Oscar Delancey was tough as nails, that he and his brother were thick as thieves. But no, it wasn't like that at all. Oscar thought that he could forgive his brother, but after last night, he couldn't take it anymore. He tried not to wince as he handed newspapers to the newises the next morning despite the pain in his sides. A few gave him questioning looks at the sight of his horrible black eye and swollen lip.

HELP ME! Oscar wanted to scream, SAVE ME! HELP ME! HE'LL KILL ME! Oscar stayed silent. No one was there to protect him anymore. His Uncle had never loved him, even on good days, and all he'd had was Morris as a protector and someone to rely on. Now Oscar didn't have Morris anymore. The newsies all said that they had horrible pasts, that they were scarred and broken and bruised, but none of them knew what it was like, not truly. Not of them had ever gone through the hell Oscar faced every day.

"I HATE YOU!" Oscar screamed, his face filled with absolute rage. Morris ignored him, busying himself by preparing some sort of meal for Oscar, and for himself if there was enough. "Did you hear what I said?!' Oscar snarled, and Morris flinched. He could almost feel the victory rolling off of Oscar in waves. Morris bowed his head and grunted 'accidentally' bumped into him as he walked past to go over to their mattress. Morris' ears were ringing with his brother's words.

I HATE YOU!
I HATE YOU!
I HATE YOU!

Morris staggered into the apartment, his legs weak as he tried to support his own weight. He'd had another nasty run in with a few very important people. Well, to him they were important. No one else would've even given them a second glance. As he leaned heavily against the table, his eyes fell on the streaked, dirty mirror in front of him. He saw a thug, tough and mean, hardened by the streets. He saw an addict, a horrible older brother, and a vicious, violent man. That's what he always saw when he looked in the mirror. And he hated it.

Morris was sick and tired of being like this. He wanted... something. Something else, he didn't know what. Another chance, maybe? Another life? He knew he wanted his brother back, but that was never going to happen. He was too broken, too messed up to ever fix what he and his brother used to have. His mind blanked and he looked back over to the mattress. His thoughts wandered to the blade inside, so welcoming, and the longing that accompanied those thoughts made Morris shudder. There was no time left. It was over.

Oscar had come home later than usual. He had been looking for Morris all day. His brother had disappeared after he'd gotten into a particularly nasty fight with four guys Oscar had never seen before. Despite what he'd told himself about hating Morris and not caring about whatever happened to him, but this was different. Morris had been practically half dead when he shoved Oscar away and staggered off. Oscar had let him go. When he walked into the door of the apartment that night, the sight he met was something he never thought he'd see before.

"Oh, my God, what are you doing?!" Oscar screamed, running up to his brother and ripping the small bloodied pocket knife out of his hands. Morris' wrists were covered with blood, scars, and fresh deep cuts, but he smiled up at Oscar pleasantly and rolled up his sleeves as if nothing had happened. Oscar stood there, frozen in shock as Morris gently pushed past him towards the basin of water they kept in the corner for cleaning. Oscar stared down at the knife in his hands.

"M-Morris, how long...?" Oscar's voice trailed off and Morris' expression hardened. "Mind your own business, Os," Morris snarled, putting as much venom into the old nickname as he could. Oscar's eyes suddenly started swimming and he shoved Morris as hard as he could, sending him into the wall. Morris gasped slightly and clutched his side, gritting his teeth. Remembering the fight, and the whole reason he was mad in the first place, Oscar launched himself at his brother and hugged him tightly. Morris pushed him away and was out the door seconds later, leaving Oscar alone.

All the newsies noticed how much moodier the Delanceys were that morning as they passed out the papes. They never talked to each other, they never even looked at each other. Morris even punched Oscar a few times, and none too gently either. But Oscar still forced that signature smirk on his face, still shoved the papes towards the newsies as hard as he could. But inside, he was screaming at his brother. He was screaming at him to just open up, to tell him what was wrong, because they were brothers, and they were always there for each other. Morris was hurting, and Oscar couldn't fix it.

"I-I'll pay you back, I swear! I can pay you back!" Morris said desperately, backing away from the men advancing towards him. All three of them were buff, at least three times bigger than Morris, and he knew there was no chance of him beating them. One of them, a fat man with a mop of brown hair plopped onto the top of his head, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him towards him. Morris gagged as he smelled the tobacco and liquor on his breath, the two things that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"That's what you've been telling us for weeks. Now give us the God damn money, or we'll have to take... certain measures," the man said with a growl, and one of the other men smirked, waving his club slightly. A chill went down Morris spine and he screamed, kicking at the man holding him and trying to get out of his grip. The man threw him to the ground and kicked him harshly once, twice, three times. Morris coughed and blood spurted out, his ribs cracking as they broke. Morris screamed for help, but no one was there. No one cared what happened to him. He was just a kid, he didn't matter.

"S-Stop!" Morris begged, crying out as he received another kick to the head. He was seeing stars, the world was spinning, and his vision was starting to go black. The three men left him to lay there on the streets, threatening him with the same thing they did every day: Pay us back or you can say goodbye to that brother of yours. Morris started to shake with sobs. He was so stupid. How could he possibly think he could pay those goons back?! Now... Now Oscar could die because of him.

Oscar found Morris lying on the mattress, breathing heavily as blood pooled from cuts in his wrists. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, most likely from a fight he'd gotten into. Like a robot, Oscar silently took the pocket knife away again and grabbed a cloth. He gently cleaned Morris' wrists, making sure the bleeding stopped before wrapping them in some spare, somewhat clean rags they had. He put a blanket on Morris when he saw how groggy he was. Oscar didn't realize he was crying until he watched Morris fall asleep and felt the tears burn his cheeks.

I'm fine, Oscar.

There's nothing wrong with me, Oscar.

You don't have to worry about me, Oscar.

I'm okay Oscar.

Leave me alone Oscar.

No, I don't owe money Oscar.

I'm not drunk, Oscar.

I don't need you Oscar.

I hate you, Morris.

I wish you'd just die, Morris.

I want a different brother, Morris.

You deserve all this Morris.

Just kill yourself already, Morris.

I don't love you, Morris.

That's all they ever said to each other now. The Delancey brothers lied to each other so often they didn't even know how to tell the truth anymore. Morris still used his knife and still owed them money. He still got beaten on a daily basis by them whenever they found out he couldn't pay them yet. Oscar still hated his older brother as much as he hated himself. He still thought Morris should have finished the job he'd started when Oscar found him that day and helped him like it was just a normal part of their daily routine. They didn't understand yet. They weren't okay yet. And by the way things were looking, they would never be okay again.

"Morris, this needs to stop," Oscar whispered to his brother the next morning. Morris glanced at the cloths wrapped around his wrists and he shook his head. Oscar didn't get it at all, did he? Morris thought Oscar had discovered his secret long ago. He was somewhat grateful that he hadn't, because that meant he could protect Oscar just a little bit longer. He could keep him safe from those horrible men that used him.

"Are you listening to me? Morris, come on!" Morris looked up to meet his brother's gaze, but he found nothing there but anger. And that's when he knew how pointless all of this was. Oscar didn't care about what happened to him, he just didn't want to deal with having a suicidal person in the house. Well, screw him, then!

"I do so much for you," Morris said quietly. "Everything I do is for you. I've tried to get you what you want ever since you were a kid. Can't you let me do something for myself for a change?!" Oscar looked taken aback, gaping at his older brother in horror. "Killing yourself isn't 'doing something for yourself'! God, why are you so selfish?!" Morris' blood ran cold. Him, selfish? Look who's talking! Morris said nothing though, and continued getting ready as if he and his brother had never spoken.

"You're scaring me. I know something's going on. I-I... I see the alcohol and the cigarettes hidden all over the place. I have a few smokes once in a while, but I can't afford anything more than that. I know you're doing something. Are you in debt? I can help you pay it." Morris shot him a glare and Oscar looked down at his feet, gnawing at his lip so much it began to bleed.

"Please, just talk to me, about anything, I don't care what about. I just want to talk to you again," Oscar pleaded with his older brother, his voice so broken sounding that Morris just wanted to end it all right there. He shook his head at Oscar.

"No."

Morris had started to unlock the gates of The World for the newsies, ignoring Oscar's cold glare as he stood beside him. He glanced around, still jumpy from last week's run in with his three dealers, and he practically ran into The World when he finally got the gates unlocked. Both he and his younger failed to notice the three, all too familiar men follow them close behind.

Newsies had begun to file in, but they weren't the ones that caught Morris' attention. The three men from a week ago ambled in after them, attempting to look casual as they surveyed the area. Morris froze, his eyes going wide as one of the men gazed at him, a malicious smirk slowly growing on his face. He backed away slightly, getting concerned looks from both his brother and, to his surprise, a few of the newsies. Oscar put a hand on his shoulder, gazing at him questioningly.

"Hey, you okay? You don't look so good," one of the kinder, newer newsies, Davey, asked Morris with a worried glance. Morris nodded, his eyes never leaving the three men in the doorway. Oscar followed his brother's gaze and his breathing hitched, his grip on his brother's shoulder tightening so much his nails dug into Morris' shoulder. Morris' face paled as the three men slowly began to advance, pushing past some of the newsies trying to reach him.

"No... God, please, no... make them go away..." Morris whimpered in his weak attempt at a prayer. Oscar's look of concern grew and he pushed Morris away. "Go," he hissed, "I'll distract them, alright?" Morris shook his head violently. "No! No, Oscar, they'll kill you!" Morris insisted, his voice breaking. Oscar's brow furrowed in confusion, but he was dashed out of his thoughts as one of the three man grabbed Morris by the front of his shirt, yanking forward so hard he fell right over the platform. A few of the newsies let out exclamations of surprise, and Jack Kelly tried to calm down a few of the younger ones that had begun to cower in fear.

"We gave you a week, Delancey. Hand over the money," the man holding Morris growled. Morris was shaking, his eyes wide in fear. He scrambled away from the man and frantically searched his pockets, coming up with only a dollar or two and shoving it at the man. His eyes hardened and he ripped the money to pieces, grabbing Morris by the back of his shirt and bringing him close, making his legs dangle off the ground. Racetrack's eyes widened and he ran off.

"Put my brother down!" Oscar growled, going over to the man and punching him as hard as he could. Morris stared at his brother in horror as the man grinned, dropping Morris and turning to him. "So, this is your brother, eh? Well, a deal's a deal, Morris. If you can't pay in full... Well, Oscar's about to find out," the man said with a chuckle. The newsies had backed away from the commotion and were watching with slight fascination, some of them looking agitated or confused, Oscar included. What was going on?

"No! Please, don't hurt him! I-I get paid today! I'll give you that and then you'll get the rest later!" Morris begged, getting up to his knees and bowing his head, his hands clasped as if he were in prayer. Oscar gaped at his brother's humiliating position, but his shock was soon replaced by anger. These men were the reason his brother had been so horrible to him. They were the reason Morris had been trying to kill himself, why he'd wasted all his money on booze and cigarettes, just like their father. Just as Oscar was about to stand up for his brother, the man kicked Morris as hard as he could, sending him sprawled across the ground. Oscar gasped.

"Stop! Don't hurt him!" Oscar cried. The other two men grabbed him from behind him and pulled him away kicking and screaming as the other resumed his treatment of Morris. Oscar looked around at the newsies pleadingly. Why weren't they helping?! Oscar screamed in terror as Morris coughed up blood, his knees giving out as he collapsed to the ground. The men laughed and the ones holding Oscar grabbed him by the hair and forced him to watch Morris. Tears filled Oscar's eyes as the man mercilessly kicked Morris' side, making him cough up more blood. Oscar sobbed when he picked Morris up off the ground, kneeing him in the stomach before throwing him against the wall.

"Hey! That's enough! Give the kid a break!" Davey suddenly piped up, emerging from the crowd of newsies and hesitating before walking up to the man and glaring up at him, his hands on his hips. The man let out a small chuckle and patted Davey on the head. Morris tried to stand up, but he gave a small shout of pain and fell to the ground again. Oscar lowered his head in shame and tried not to cry, starting to shake as the man turned back to his brother.

Racetrack arrived with the police moments later, shouting profanities and curses as he spotted Morris getting beat on the ground. The police officers immediately launched themselves at the men, getting Oscar out of the grip of the other two and dragging away the man that had been beating Morris, putting all of them in cuffs. Oscar rushed to his brother's side and helped him to his feet, letting him lean heavily against him. Oscar nodded to the officers in thanks as they led the three men away. Specs was quick to offer to sell to the rest of the newsies while Oscar took Morris home, and Oscar agreed to the arrangement.

"What the hell was that about?!" Oscar asked, his tone laced with fear and, of course, slight annoyance. Morris stared at the ground, trembling as his little brother glared harshly at him. He let out a sob and Oscar's gaze softened slightly. He pulled Morris closer to him and hugged him gently, tears beginning to gather in his eyes once again as Morris started to sobbed openly, burying his face in his brother's shoulder and clinging to him like a lifeline.

"Morris, what's happened to you?" Oscar whispered, cradling the back of Morris' head and keeping his other arm wrapped around him securely. Morris didn't reply, which didn't surprise Oscar in the slightest, and he waited to ask him again. As Morris began to calm down and his sobs slowed to hiccups and the occasional whimper, Oscar led him to the table and sat him down in a chair, sitting next to him and grabbing his hand. Oscar didn't even have to ask this time, Morris launching into an explanation almost immediately.

"I've been so horrible to you in these past few months, and I bet you want to know why, right?" Morris murmured. Oscar nodded quickly. Morris took a shaky breath before continuing. "Those three men... I owe them a lot of money. I ran into them about a month ago; they'd gotten me out of a pinch with the police and asked me for money in return. I gave them what I had. I found out later that they sold cigarettes and alcohol real cheap. At the time I was just... I was really at a low point. I was becoming aware of what I was doing to the newsies, and I wanted to find a way to distract myself from that. So I bought as much as I could from them. They gave me extra, worth about fifty dollars, and told me to pay them back in three weeks. That was just the start of it." Morris' voice had lowered to a whisper, and he looked away from Oscar so he didn't see he was crying.

"I paid them. I stole some of your money, snagged a few wallets here and there, and used my own to do it. But I'd dug myself into a hole. I-I couldn't... I couldn't even function right unless I smoked a cigarette. I would start shaking and everything if I went without one for too long. Eventually I owed them so much money that I wouldn't be able to pay them back even after years of work." Morris' hands were trembling and Oscar tightened his grip on the hand he held, listening intently to what his brother had to say. He knew there had to be more.

"That was the first time I tried to kill myself. I found a pocket knife in an alleyway one time and I... I tried to... you know. It didn't work obviously; I'm still here. They kept cornering me from then on. They beat me when they found out I didn't have their money. They said-" Morris' voice broke and he swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. "They said if I didn't pay them back they'd kill you." Oscar's face went slack and he straightened, his grip on Morris' hand loosening until he let go completely.

"I wanted to make you understand what was happening to me, but I was so scared you would hate me when you found out. I tried so many times to die so you wouldn't be in danger anymore, so that I just wouldn't have to deal with it all, but you... you saved me every. Single. Time. Even after you told me you hated me, and you made me feel like nothing would ever be okay between us ever again, you still kept helping me. I just wanted to die and you wouldn't let me! I... I don't understand why..." Morris looked back to his brother, expecting so see anger, or fear, or maybe even indifference, but that's not what he saw at all. Oscar's eyes were filled with so much pain that Morris wished he could turn back time, so Oscar had never heard what he said, so he was still sheltered about what a broken piece of crap his older brother was.

"All this time, and you never told me." I know Oscar, I'm so sorry. "You hurt me. You beat me up so bad sometimes I couldn't even stand." Morris flinched and clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. "But I still loved you." Morris' eyes shot open and he gaped at his brother in shock. Oscar was stone faced, but his eyes were glistening. "You left me in the dark, and I hated it, but I thought I hated you. But I just hated that you didn't trust me enough to tell me what was wrong. It hurt me so much whenever I found you... bleeding. I thought I was going to lose you," Oscar finished, and he let the tears fall, feeling no shame at all.

"Please... Please don't leave me," Oscar whispered. " I know I screwed up. I should have asked you, I should have made you tell me what was wrong. This is my fault, and I'm so sorry. But I can make it up to you, I swear. So please don't leave me," Oscar choked out. Morris grabbed his younger brother's hand, looking him in the eye as best as he could. He couldn't believe Oscar thought all of this was his fault. That was the stupidest, most absurd thing Morris had ever heard in his life. Being eighteen, he'd heard a lot. He tugged Oscar towards him and hugged him tightly, burying his head in his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere."