Author note: It appears I am behind in my Newsies series, and to be honest I haven't even been thinking about it at all. I don't know, something just clicked in my mind and suddenly I remembered that I still had an unfinished story on the internet. I am sorry for the lack of update, and for now I only have time to entertain you with a one-shot. Hopefully by the end of the weekend I'll get the next chapter up, or maybe even sooner.
Now that I've explained myself, read on and enjoy.
She stared solemnly out of the dirt coated window as beads of raindrops cleaned it as best as they could. The sky was completely black and dreary, perfect for a night that made her heart throb from the pain of the events that led up earlier that week. The docks weren't even visible from where she sat, and the rain was far too thick to view anything more than two feet.
A lonely sigh escaped Cay's lips, a sign of boredom and hurt that everyone knew lingered in her. If only things would go back to normal then she wouldn't be having this mental breakdown – this silent mental breakdown. If only he would turn off that pride for just two minutes and try to get along with her, then maybe the relationship they had built and destroyed wouldn't be so depressing.
Cay knew that he – the only guy she had ever had true feelings for – wasn't the type to stick around for long, and easily moved on to the next girl. But Cay changed that, and she knew it. Spot was having a rough time getting her out of his head, and it satisfied Cay greatly. But then again, the young newsboy was still Spot Conlon, the same boy who had a way with women, and getting everything he desired.
That's what hurt most. Cay knew deep down inside that Spot Conlon didn't want to have feelings for her, and he made that clear earlier in the week after an argument about the downfall of their love life. Spot visibly made it clear that he wasn't ready for a serious relationship, for his youth mattered most to him.
Well doesn't he think that Cay's youth matters to her, too? Or does she not qualify for that? Why did Spot Conlon have to put her in her place, when all she did was be there for him through tough situations? Cay loved him, she admitted that much, and it ached inside to know that Spot wasn't ready to love her.
"I can't do dis, Caitlyn," he had told her sternly. "I can't jus' give up everythin' to be with you."
Cay had felt tears spring to her eyes, but she never let them fall. "You're just heartless, Spot!"
"Listen, you and I are jus' two different people. Yer lookin' for someone to love, but I'm jus' lookin' for-"
"Some fun with girls," Cay had told him angrily.
The argument didn't end well, and Spot left, not returning for days, leading up until now. Three days had past completely, and nobody around Brooklyn – or Manhattan – had seen Spot Conlon.
Cay had believed him to be dead, but that only brought terror to her heart. Then again he could've run off to another city just to juggle from girl to girl, granting them pleasure. It wasn't fair that he would do such a thing, and it hurt Cay deeply to even imagine Spot showing his soft side to another girl.
Cay propped her elbow on the windowsill and rested her chin in her hand. The thought of Spot brought tears to her eyes as one slid down her soft, pale cheek. The rain was noisy and disturbing, making her feel more alone than she already was. All of the newsboys and newsgirls were already upstairs and tucked away under their warm sheets, not having to worry about their fearsome leader.
Cay zoned out, still awake, yet not really there. She never heard the door softly open and close, and more tears only traveled from her eyes.
"I hate the rain," she said to herself, shivering ever so slightly from the thought of being caught in the storm.
"Only because I'm not heah to protect you," a voice said from the main room doorway.
Cay jumped into reality and turned her head sharply towards the door, gasping once she saw Brooklyn's leader.
Cay kept silent, studying the newsie closely, only to conclude that he was tired and hurt.
"Spot," she said just above a whisper.
The eighteen year old boy walked further into the room and knelt beside Cay, an expression mixed with confusion, pain, and realization. He smiled lightly and wiped away another tear that escaped her eyes.
"I was wrong," he said, startling Cay. "You and I are similar in a way. I do wanna be with you, and I am ready, because I love you, Cay."
All the pain and hurt vanished from Cay's features as she threw her arms around Spot and their lips met in a passionate and loving kiss.
And even though Spot was there to protect her, Cay still couldn't stand the rain…