EDIT:
I went through and fixed all the mistakes and wanted to let you guys know that this song fic has been nominated at a Newsie awards site. You can find the link on my profile. So I want to encourage all of you to vote. Anyway, so here is the editted and fixed version. :D
Author's Note and Disclaimer:
This is a oneshot based off of the song What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts. I've been working on it for a really long time! Lol. But anyway. Umm the song does not belong to me I did not write it and Spot and Jack and Blink and Mush and Race aren't mine either. They belong to Disney. Crazy Danny, as I like to call her, is all mine though:D
Enjoy!
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
"I guess I have a pretty normal life. I only break down every few months."
"When you break down, what do you do?" the therapist looked up over her heavily rimmed brown glasses. A notebook sat in her lap and I felt like she was breaking me down piece by piece and studying me. It felt weird. It felt bad. I didn't want to be studied.
"I cry. I cut. Normal stuff really."
"Cutting's hardly normal." she commented with a short strained laugh. I found myself scowling at her, hatred and anger filling my features. Who was she to talk? She made a living out of studying people!
"Why do you cry?" there she went with the questions again. How was I supposed to answer this one? She was getting way too personal and she didn't even know it.
STOP THINKING ABOUT IT, I yelled at myself mentally. Thinking about it was only going to make me cry.
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok
But that's not what gets me
"Why are you crying?" the question was piercing. I almost thought it was his voicefor a moment...until I looked up. My eyes gleamed for a short second from just hearing his voice, but it wasn't him. My face fell again. I hated these let downs. Always thinking he was there and then finding out a few moments or seconds later that he wasn't. My imagination was always creating him. I guess it was because I needed him so badly.
It was killing me more and more everyday. Sometimes it got so bad I couldn't breathe.
"I miss him." my voice echoed off the white walls and it hardly seemed like mine.
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do
"Miss who?" another question.
"I just wish he'd find me. He left me, but he promised to come back! I see his face everywhere! I hear his voice." I was rambling now and I could taste the salty tears that were spilling from my eyes.
It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I'm doin' It
Memories that couldn't be ignored were pushing themselves into my eyes. Memories I didn't want to see.
A loud crack of thunder rang through the sky late at night. I jolted up right in my bed, my hands and arms already shaking from fright. This fear of storms was so childish. I didn't even know why I had it, just that it was always there. There wasn't a thing in the world that could help me get over this fear. Another roll of thunder was followed by a crack of lightening and before I knew what I was doing I jumped out of my bed and high tailed it out of the bunk room and up the stairs to the third floor. I guess I just wasn't thinking, getting closer to the storm like that. My bare feet made a soft padding noise and some pieces of glass and wood were digging into them but I barely noticed and barely cared. I was too set on getting to my destination.
I stopped at the door and contemplated on knocking. He'd probably be asleep right now and I didn't really know if I wanted to wake him. He could be so mean when he was tired. So, that left me with one choice, not to knock. I sighed inwardly and held my breath as I opened the door. The room was dark except for the lightening coming through the window. Just as a bolt of lightening illuminated the room I could make out his sleeping form. His well deformed chest, his smooth shaved cheeks, and his dirty blond hair. He always looked like a god, even in sleep. I berated myself quickly. I didn't think of him that way; he was just my friend and no more. Then why are you in his room, another part of me asked. I shrugged it off though and walked the rest of the way into his room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I gently padded across the floor, jumping every time a bolt of lightening or thunder passed by. I was filled with relief when I finally made it to his bed. A wave of worry quickly covered the relief though. What would he think if he found me in his bed in the morning? Or what if he woke up after I snuggled in with him?
"Get in the bed already." his cold harsh voice startled me and I jumped about two feet in the air. He never ceased to surprise me...ever! I jumped again when the loudest crack of thunder rang through the air and found my self quickly crawling in next to him. He gently draped his arm around me and snuggled close to my backside. It was hard believing that him, of all people, would snuggle, but he was.
"I need you to breathe, Danny." the therapists voice broke through my thoughts. I was lieing on the cold white floor. Why was I on the floor? I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I didn't care any more. I kept holding my breath...and before I knew it, blackness was taking over.
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do
3 Months Later
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone
Still Harder
"Miss Callahan, you have a visitor." the nurse's voice was bittersweet but I didn't look up. My eyes were glued to the wall in front of me. I didn't want to look any where else. Even being in this plain white barred room reminded me of him. All I had to do was look out the window at Brooklyn or look at the bed, or the clock. He was all around me.
"Danny." her voice was sharp this time, pleading and irritated. I still didn't want to look up. Her shoes barely made a sound on the white tile as she grabbed my elbow and helped me to my feet. I stumbled as I tried to stand up from my backwards position on the chair, but finally caught my balance.
"You're not helping yourself." she muttered under her breathe. I wanted to push her away and scream at her that maybe I didn't want to help myself, but I bit my tongue instead.
It was funny.
It was funny because I had told myself so many times when I met him that I wouldn't let him control me. I wouldn't be one of those girls that felt sorry for themselves because he played them. He was who he was and I knew about his reputation.
He said he'd come back, I voice inside me argued.
That doesn't mean you had to slit you're wrists because he didn't!, the other side snapped back. I laughed to myself. This kind of thinking was exactly what got me in this place!
I pulled my arm out of the nurse's grasp as we got to the visiting room. Normal people weren't allowed anywhere else but the lobby and this room unless you were staff.
"We'll send him right in."
The word him rang through my mind and I felt like holding my breathe again, either that or screaming.
It was a few more minutes before they finally led him in. He looked the same as he always did. Same old Jack Kelly. I had met Jack after I had already been dating the king himself for about 2 weeks. Jack and I had become fast friends. But after he left Jack seemed to kind of disappear and not want to see me anymore. I wonder what he was doing now.
He sat down across from me in the white chair, at the white table.
Did I mention how sick of white I am? It was nice to see a bit of color every once in a while. The nurses didn't even where color. They weren't allowed. I wonder if the guy that ran this place new that white just made the patients go even more insane. Maybe I should tell him...
He didn't say anything. He just sat there and looked at me. I felt pretty bad under his stare as always. He was always one of those guys that could just read you with a look into your eyes. I didn't want him to see how much pain I was in.
"You don't belong in here." his voice was hushed and I couldn't help letting out a harsh laugh. It was more of a squeak though. I hadn't talked in forever.
I held up my arms, letting my, of coarse white, sleeves fall down to about my elbows. He looked away hurriedly. I guess I was ruining his pure vision of me. I was the furtherest from pure. Before I knew it though he was looking back and my left arm was in his rough hands. They were no longer inked stains like usual though. He probably had a real job now. He was at least 20.
"They all look the same." he murmured to himself, but I shook my head. My dark blue eyes met with his dark brown ones. Something I didn't want to happen. I took my arm back from him and looked down at it. Running my index finger over the very cut that had landed me in this joint in the first place. There was one identical to it on the other side. One that looked just like it and was in the same spot. I had used my lover's knife. I can't remember if I was trying to get back at myself for making him leave me or trying to get back at him for leaving me. It was too much of a blur.
"Still think I don't belong in here?" I asked him my voice was pleading even though I didn't want it to be. I needed him to say that I didn't belong here one more time. Just for sanities sake.
Getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
"It doesn't matter now." he said with a shake of his head. I looked at him quizzically. My eyes looking at his mouth instead of at his eyes.
"I'm 20 you're 18. That means I'm legally old enough to fight for you. You don't belong here. You belong in the world with you're friends."
"Maybe I don't want to be in the world." I pleaded with him, but a tiny voice in my head pleaded with me that I did. I did want to get back out in the world.
"He's back." his voice was raspy and as soon as the sentence left his mouth I could tell he regretted saying it. But I just wanted to know more.
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
"That's not possible."
"Still stubborn I see." he answered with a smirk. I think he was trying to lighten the situation, but we both knew that wasn't going to happen.
"If he's back then why doesn't he just come see me himself?" the question hissed out of my mouth before I even had the time to think. I covered my mouth with my hand and looked back at the table.
"You're coming with me and that's the end of it." he stated with a firm nod. "You're my best friend. I need you and you need me."
"That's the thing Jack!" I yelled, slamming my fist on the table. "When I needed you, you weren't there. You were too busy with Sarah to care!" Jack flinched and I knew I had struck a nerve.
Good.
"You're telling me you want to stay in this place?" he asked motioning the white room. I closed my eyes. Of course I didn't want to stay here. But did I really want to face the world?
"That's what I thought." he had me by the hand and out the door before I could even say no or yes. I was too shocked to even comprehend the fact that we were headed for the doors and were outside in a matter of minutes. I gawked at how much New York had changed. It was amazing. And I was finally in the world again.
One Year Later
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
I laughed loudly at a not very good joke that Race had just told. It was Thursday. The night of the weekly poker game. All of the guys I had once known were already out of the newsies business and into the real world with real jobs, but they still got together for poker games. I lived with Jack in a small one bedroom apartment. We shared a bed and we both worked at the same factory.
I had grown accustomed to putting on fake smiles and fake laughs. But underneath the skin, underneath my clothes, things were as bad as ever. Sometimes I couldn't even move because there were so many cuts on my body. I had no idea what was wrong with me and I didn't know how to fix it.
I leaned back on two legs in my chair. We were having the poker game in Mush and Blink's apartment this week. It was much like mine and Jack's.
"Ok Tom Boy, just cause you're not in your own apartment doesn't mean you can tear up ours." I gave a shriek when Mush pulled the chair back down to all fours. They were always making fun of me for still wearing pants. I only did it around the house though. Or on poker nights. I had a pair of lucky brown shorts that had been Jack's during the strike. They brought me a lot of luck...and a lot of money.
I stuck my tongue out at him. Sometimes I could actually have fun when I was around them. Most of the time. I was only happy when I was with them. But who could blame me? I had the best friends in the world.
"I think I'm going to-" I started but a sharp knock was heard on the door. I growled playfully and laughed at Race as he tripped on his way to the door. Race's laughter quieted when he finally opened the door though and he turned around to stare at Jack, an eyebrow raised. Jack seemed to know who was there already and motioned for Race to let him in. I was in too much of a trance to even bother.
"I have to pee really bad. I'll be back." I said before I could even see who was at the door. I disappeared down the hallway and closed the bathroom door. It didn't take me long and I was out of the bathroom again within five minutes.
"Hey, short stack, get outta my chair." I growled when I entered the room. I figured it was Les sitting in my chair, or at least it looked like it from behind. The room fell quiet and I wondered why. Had I done something wrong?
I slowly walked around the room and was about to look at the person in my chair when Jack grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to where I was standing before.
"Listen-" he started.
"No." I stated firmly before leaving his grip and running around the table. I almost tripped when I saw him. There he was.
He was sitting right there in front of me and all I could do was stand there. I felt the tears spring to my eyes before I could even utter a word. I took in a gasp of air before my feet started to move...right for the bathroom. I knew what I was going for and my feet seemed to, too.
"Danny don't!" I heard Mush call from behind me.
"Danny get back here!" Jack yelled harshly, punching the wall as he walked quickly after me. "It's for you're own good."
I rounded the corner and swung myself into the bathroom. My hand reached out and tightly grabbed the razor. I was that much closer to get the emotional pain to go away. I pulled up my sleeve with my mouth and sliced harshly into my forearm. I didn't want to die. I just wanted to hurt a bit. I stood there. The hand holding the razor was trembling and my eyes were closed. I was in heaven.
"Oh god, Danny!" Jack's voice rang through the air. The tension was as thick as butter.
The dream disappeared as soon as it had come. No one was with me. I was still in the same white room in the same white clothes. Holding my breathe never accomplished anything no matter how many times I had tried it.
It was a shame I got my hopes up for Jack. It's too bad he never went through with any of it.
"Spot Conlon." the voice rolled off my tongue just as it always had. It was the first time I had spoken that name in years. I closed my eyes, tears rolling down my face.
He was never coming back.
Not seeing that loving you
That's what I was trying to do