Disclaimer: Shortie does not own NewsiesShortie does not own Newsies….
Alex's Note: I was watching South Park and Kenny died. I got inspired. Nuff said.
Dedication: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KEZA DARLING! I ADORE YOU! Here's some birthday Pie Angst only a day late!
Alive
He wakes up one morning with a feeling; he knows he's going to die. It doesn't come with some monumental sign, like seeing the grim reaper in a dream or flashes of his short life dancing before his eyes, it's just a feeling, one that he can't shake, and doesn't want to because oddly enough, it's comforting. He's surprised that it doesn't surprise him that he isn't scared. On the contrary actually, he's never felt more alive.
He's subdued and quiet on the short walk to the Distribution Center. Swifty nudges him and asks him what's wrong. He says he's thinking, but that's a lie. He has nothing to think about anymore, the promise of death and absolution soothing him and keeping out the panic. Instead, he looks at things, really looks at them. With a blissfully blank mind and senses sharpened by his acquired knowledge, he's able to see things as he's never seen them before and the enhanced colors, the boldness, the amount of feeling he gets from it all take his breath away.
With death looming majestically over the horizon, he realizes he has no reason to sell and wanders quietly away from the others, studying his hands intently and pouring over the grains of dirt that stain his nails, the strong structure of his bones, and the patterns and creases in his skin that he never looked closely enough to notice before. It's fascinating enough that he doesn't hear the pounding footsteps behind him. A tap on the shoulder that any other day would have made him jump in surprise causes him to turn around merely in annoyance. He isn't afraid of anything anymore, now that he knows what's coming to him and welcomes it readily.
"What?" He asks his intruder, his voice flat and hollow.
Swifty is scowling angrily, but his eyes are deeply concerned. "What the hell is wrong with you, Pie?"
He smiles emotionlessly. Swifty shivers. "Nothing," he says placidly, his gaze never leaving his friend's.
"Yeah, well, snap out of it, okay?" Swifty rakes a hand through his short dark hair, "You're scaring us."
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't move; only stares intently into Swifty's eyes, marveling at how dark and deep they are. He wonders how he's never noticed them before.
"Pie?" Swifty's voice sounds worried now. He still doesn't respond, "Pie Eater?"
Swifty's voice opens a flood of emotions inside him, but he's careful to keep his exterior impassive.
He finally allows himself to think and the thoughts pour in like a waterfall. He wonders how it's going to happen, he wonders if it's going to hurt. He thinks about Swifty- who is now frantically waving a hand in his face trying to get some kind of reaction from him- and the rest of his friends. He thinks of the baby bird he found the day before in Central Park and wonders who will take care of it now that he can't. He wonders who the lucky newsie who gets his bed will be.
He still doesn't allow himself to panic; he's ready.
"Pie Eater? Answer me, Pie!" Swifty's voice has risen several octaves and he's a step away from punching his friend in the face to bring him back to reality.
"I'm going to die, Swifty," he finally answers in the same deadened tone.
Swifty is taken completely aback. It takes him several moments to grasp what he's heard. "W-what?" he finally manages to stammer.
"I'm going to die. I don't know how, I don't know when, but I know. I have a feeling."
Swifty forces a shaky laugh, "Everyone dies, Pie, but you're young. You won't die for a long time."
"I'm going to die, Swifty," he repeats for a third time, "And it's going to be today." He still hasn't moved from the same position, his eyes haven't left Swifty's. He finds new things in them every second, new emotions and new depths.
"Pie, you're scaring me, now. Stop it!"
He shrugs slightly, the first movement he's made since Swifty stopped him. "I can't, Swift. It's going to happen."
"You know what, Pie? I'm not listening to this any longer. You're not going to die. Now stop being an idiot and come sell with me!" Swifty's angry now, or at least he's pretending to be. Swifty storms off, thinking that he's right behind him.
He hasn't moved.
He sees it before it happens. It's like a freak accident. He sees Swifty trip- for the first time in his whole life- and go down, landing hard on the cobblestones with a sickeningly audible thud.
His senses are still sharpened and he hears the staccato clopping of hooves before he sees it. He knows it isn't going to stop.
Something snaps inside him and suddenly he's alive. He's faster than he's ever been before, stronger, too. He makes it to Swifty before the horse and manages to push him out of harm's way not a second too soon. The sound of the galloping hooves fades away slowly in the other direction.
And it hurts. It hurts a lot, actually, but he's prepared and he doesn't panic.
"Oh my God," he hears Swifty moan, "Oh my God."
"I told you," he says. He doesn't know if he's said it out loud or not.
"Pie… Oh my God."
Swifty's teeth are clenched tightly and tears run freely down his cheeks as he tries desperately to heal his wounds; to stop the inevitable.
He dies- just like he knew he would- his blood and life seeping slowly out of him in unison as Swifty places a soft kiss on his cold, blue lips. He always wished Swifty would do that.
He's never felt more alive.