Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.

Word Count: 1151

Notes: I can't write Newsies-dialect. It always bothers me when I see a story filled with badly written dialect, so, rather than do it badly, I won't do it. Sorry. Also, I'm so in love with this movie it isn't even funny.

"My father taught us not to lie."

—David

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Jack kisses Sarah.

Jack kisses Sarah when the strike ends, and he holds her on one side while he pulls David close on the other. David can feel the smile stretching his cheeks freeze in place, never faltering, never falling.

David can feel his heart splinter; sharp, endless pain that he barely understands himself.

Sarah smiles at him with joy and love in her eyes, and David slowly removes Jack's arm from around his shoulders.

"Treat her well," he warns, not very seriously, because he knows Jack would rather die than hurt Sarah.

"I will," Jack promises earnestly, and his voice is fully serious.

David wonders at the fact that the smile is still on his face.

"I'm happy for you," he tells them, swallowing hard, and he ducks his head so they won't see his eyes screaming something entirely different.

"Can you invite Jack over for lunch?" Sarah asks, lowering her eyes and blushing a bit. "It'll just be the three of us. Mama and Poppa have gone out, and Les is playing with his friends."

David thinks he would rather jump off a bridge than spend an entire lunch with Jack and Sarah. When he sees them, smiling foolishly at each other, his heart beats to the time of not yours, not yours.

He loves his sister, and he—Jack—

He wants to be happy for them. He really does.

"I'll ask Jack," he tells her, "but I promised Racetrack I'd join his card came. Sorry, Sarah."

He had promised Racetrack no such thing, but when he sees David he pulls out his deck all the same. David sits with his shoulders slumped from a weight that is invisible but all too tangible, and Racetrack deals out his cards without a word.

Racetrack has always been observant.

He had honestly thought that Jack and Sarah would be happily together, forever. He had seen them getting married, having children, while he lurked around the edges of their lives hoping to soak in some light.

When Jack comes to him with an uneasy, upset look on his face, David wants nothing more than to say, leave her, take me, can't you see how long I've been yours?

Instead he asks, "What's the problem, Jack?"

"I don't know, Davey," Jack says hesitantly. "I feel like something's different. Missing. I mean, she's wonderful, but—"

David holds up a hand. "Jack, I'm your friend as well as her brother. Just—tell me what's wrong."

Jack is silent. Then he says, "We don't feel right anymore."

David looks him over, sitting on the roof, legs folded casually, eyes troubled. His heart twists.

"I think you should talk to her," he finally says, closing his eyes, voice sounding strange to his own ears. "You two are good for each other."

When he opens his eyes again, Jack is staring at him with an odd look on his face. "Yeah, Davey," he says. "I'll talk to her."

When he's gone, David leans forward and puts his face in his hands. He can hear his heart thudding.

Not yours, not yours.

"We're done, David," Sarah tells him, eyes slightly reddened. Her voice, though, is steady.

David hears the words, but it takes a moment for them to sink in.

"Oh," he says softly, and then stops. He clears his throat and starts again. "Did he…are you—"

Sarah shakes her head. "It's not his fault," she tells him, a wry smile twisting her face. "It wasn't something he could help."

David looks down at his feet, trying to compose his features. He doesn't know what to feel; no, it's more that he feels too much: worry about Sarah, worry about Jack, confusion, dread at having to watch another relationship bloom and grow, elation, and because of that, guilt.

David does love his sister, so he pulls her close and wraps his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he mumbles into her hair. It's a lie of omission; he doesn't clarify, I'm sorry this had to happen to you, but I'm not sorry it happened. She squeezes him, but when she pulls back, the look in her eyes tells him that she may have caught the lie anyway.

"Go talk to him," she gently orders, laying a hand on his cheek. "I think he has something to tell you."

David stares at her, confusion and something else filling him (not hope, hope just leads to disappointment, loss), and she smiles at him, lips trembling only slightly.

"Go," she says, and David turns, and goes.

"I'm sorry," Jack says the moment he sees him, eyes wild. "Davey, I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt her, but—"

"She told me it wasn't your fault," David interrupted. He pauses, feeling as though he is on a precipice; what he says next can change everything. "She also said you have something to tell me."

There's fear and something like misery on Jack's face. The look is familiar to David; he has seen it in a mirror for months now. Recognition gives him the courage to take a step forward, then another, then another.

Jack's breathing is harsh, ragged, and David knows his is no better. They look at each other in silence, until Jack makes a sound of frustration, of desperation, and leans down to press his mouth to David's.

Time seems to freeze. David just feels, where his hands have come up to span Jack's broad shoulders, where Jack's are tangled in his hair, where their mouths are touching, tentative, warm. He parts his lips and presses in closer. He wants to fall into Jack, fall into this moment, where things are right and hazy and where he feels like he can't breathe for fear of breaking this. His lungs are burning, Jack is moving one hand to cup David's cheek, and David thinks he can feel it trembling. He wants—so much, he wants so much, he's shaking from the want, and Jack pulls back only to gasp an unsteady breath, and then his lips are on David's again.

Jack is groaning into David's mouth; the sounds reverberate between them, making his lips tingle, and there's so much heat, and David has to step away before he falls down. His legs are nowhere near steady.

He brings one hand up to his mouth. Jack starts to looks scared again, and David can't bear that, so he quickly grasps Jack's sleeve in his hand and moves closer. He would smile, but he doesn't think he can figure out how to move his face right now.

Jack wets his lips and says hoarsely, "Was—was that…"

David moves his hand until he is holding Jack's. "Perfect," he tells him, voice rough.

Jack closes his eyes and exhales softly. He pulls their clasped hands closer to him, and David follows. They stand together, wordlessly happy, and his heart says mine, mine, mine.

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