Author's Note: This story might be a little disturbing, if only because of the age gap between the two featured characters. The rating accounts for this, and the fact that the younger boy is unwilling. There is also a strong slash theme to this story. You have been warned.
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With him, I fall.
Down, down, into the depths below. Into the filthy waters of the sewers, where every surface is black-green and the rats have learned how to swim. The place we fall is not a clean place. It is a despicable way to go, climbing slimy ladders and slipping every inch of the way down.
We stumble, we trip, he makes funny noises in the back of his throat. Half of the time I wonder what the heck I'm doing in this position. It's bad, you know? I hate this. I don't even think I like Jack the way he likes me. But I don't have a choice.
Jack is, after all, the person that I look up to. He's the leader of every Manhattan newsie, and what am I? Some black ex-bootshine who can sell thirty-five papes a day and read with difficulty. I've never had a girlfriend before, or even kissed before this.
Jack is different. Everyone wants to be him. He has a position of power, and friends in high places. He can have any girl he wants. He even has David's sister! Not only is that girl a looker, if they marry he'll be David's real brother by law.
Who else has a life that good?
Who else rules with words given to him by someone else?
Who else always gets what he wants?
That's what is frightening. What if what he wants is...me?
That's why I'm here right now. That's why we're in this alley, tucked away from the view of anyone that we know. It started innocently enough. It had begun to rain, but I still had five papes to sell. Jack had been walking past, and when the rain really started to pour he flipped me a coin and bought the last of my papes from me.
"The boys'll t'ink we fell in the river," Jack had laughed, thumping my sopping hat with his fist. I grinned uncertainly, then after a moment laughed at the joke. It's just what you do. Even if something Cowboy says isn't funny, you laugh anyway.
"Yeah, they will!" I agreed enthusiastically.
"See that ledge there? Race ya!" The taller boy was gone in an instant. His legs were longer than mine, and he'd gotten a head start. The odds were piled against me, but I didn't complain. Jack does what he wants to do.
He's our leader.
He always gets his way.
"You lose," He reminded me gaily as I slipped under the short ledge. We were standing in the back of an alley, near a door. A small piece of wood above our heads protected us from the downpour. I stuck my hand out, and pulled it back in, fascinated when I found how wet it was. There were torrents of rain coming down, and it didn't look like it would be letting up any time soon.
"Yeah, so?" I asked offhandedly, eyes widening as I remembered who I had spoken so curtly to.
"So now I'se get t' claim a prize," Jack grinned wolfishly. I hate that grin. He looks like he's going to snap out and bite whenever he smiles like that.
"I'll give ya some o' my marbles when we'se back at the House!" I suggested cheerfully.
That's when time decided to stand still. That's where I am forever trapped now. "Naw, doan' want your marbles," Cowboy shakes his head, his long brown hair so wet that it sticks to his face. He turns to face me, one of his shoulders jutting out into the rain. "I want..." He doesn't finish. Instead, one of his hands tilts my head up and he leans down, encasing my lips with his own. He locks me into this moment.
"Jack!" I splutter, ripping my chin away from his hand. I feel so unclean that I stagger into the pouring rain, just to get away from him.
"Boots, wait! Come back!" Cowboy trots after me, finding me easily. With gently firm hands he tugs me back under the small roof, into the doorway. "What's wrong, Boots? Doan' you like me?"
"Not like that!" My eyes are wide, raindrops clinging to my eyelashes. Jack laughs.
"You'll learn," He whispers against my ear, his lips tickling my skin. I try to jerk away, but this time Jack is ready. One of his hands is on my back, pressing me to him. He has to bend down a lot to reach my lips. Momentarily I consider kneeing him in the groin, but I can't. Despite what he's doing, I still respect him.
I can't tell him to stop. This is Jack Kelly. He leads every Manhattan newsie around. He's the one who has payed for my lodging endless times because he knows how afraid I am of the streets. He's the one who found me when I was just some dirty eight year old boy scraping together a living by polishing shoes. He's always watched over me.
This isn't bad. This can't be bad. Jack could never hurt anyone, except for maybe a scab. I have to learn, like Jack says. I can just close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere else. Pretend I'm somewhere warm, instead of crouched beneath a doorway, wet, cold, and miserable. You know, I can't really be here.
I'm dreaming.
That has to be it. I'm dreaming.
So why can't I wake up?
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Innocence.
I fall
F
a
l
l
i
n
g.
Dark paths.
No light
A
n
y
w
h
e
r
e.
So cold.
Need heat
W
a
r
m
t
h.
Don't cry.
Stay strong
Lost
I
n
n
o
c
e
n
c
e.