A/N: This was written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition, circulation 3: "Change." This is a combination of Task 1 (change is positive growth) and Task 3 (change is bad) – depending from whose POV you look at it - 570 words. I've purposely left the main newsie ambiguous – a Rorschach if you will. Please tell me in your review who you think the newsie might be!
"How are you feeling?" she asked, putting a cold washcloth to his forehead.
He groaned. "Everything hurts."
"I bet it does. You really tied one on last night."
He opened his eyes to a dark, blurry world. He blinked a few times until everything came into focus. The room was dark, but he could see the mid-day sun streaming in through the curtains that she had kept closed for him.
"How did I get home?" he asked.
"Jack and Specs carried you back here," she said.
He tried hard to think of the night before, but only flashes came to his memory. He remembered the small, haphazard wedding ceremony. He remembered walking his best friend down the aisle, giving her away to the man she loved. He remembered the small reception at Medda's hall. He remembered the bar being open to all the guests. Davey tried to keep him away from the bar, but he managed to get away too many times. He counted having four drinks before he didn't remember anything.
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "It's okay."
"No it's not. The day after your wedding shouldn't be spent takin' care of me."
"It's what friends do."
"Ain't you leavin' for your honeymoon today?"
She nodded. "Our train leaves in a couple hours."
Silence followed. There was so much to be said, yet neither one of them wanted to say any of it.
"Did anything happen last night?"
She hesitated before responding. "Nothing unexpected."
He frowned and looked at her directly. As his eyes adjusted to the room, he frowned when he saw the mark on her cheek. He reached up to her face, but she moved it away.
"Please tell me that wasn't me," he said.
She didn't say anything.
He sighed and ran his hands over his face.
"I begged you to not drink," she said. "You know you get just like your father when you drink."
"Please don't say that," he begged.
"It's true. You know it and you need to hear it."
"Did I at least...I mean...was I sorry about it?"
More silence.
"Why are you still here, then?" he whispered.
She didn't have a good answer. She didn't have a good answer for the other times he'd done it either.
"I guess your new husband's pretty angry at me now, huh?"
"He's definitely not happy that I'm here right now."
"Look, I promise things will be different from here on out."
"You said that last time."
"This won't happen next time."
"I don't think there will be a next time."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
She swallowed. "We're not coming back to New York," she said softly.
He blinked and sat up. "What?" The sudden movement caused his head to spin and he immediately lay back down.
"Just rest for now," she said. "There's a basin right here next to your bed in case you get sick."
"Don't leave."
"I'm right here."
"That's not what I meant."
She was quiet for a few long moments. "Darcy's father wants to start a newspaper out west," she said. She stood up and grabbed her coat.
"Don't go. Please."
She sighed softly and looked down at him. "You'll always have a special place in my heart. But us…this…" she gestured between them. When she spoke again her voice was tight. "Some friendships aren't meant to last forever."
With that, she turned and walked out of the room.