Author's Notes: Woo!! A visit to Sinhe's house for a week has rekindled my
love for newsies! And the drive to finish this fic. Mwahahahaha.Enjoy all
the slashiness. And since I'm madly in love with all my reviewers, it's
Shout-Out time!! I'm just doing these based on the reviews I got from chap
6 and 7. Woo!! (Pie Eater is the newsie of the day, btw.^_^)
Shout-Outs~
Merlin's Quill: Yay! You get bonus points for the word 'bloody.' ^_^
Fyre Eye: *sighs happily* I luuurve Mush/Blink as well.
Lee8: *bounces* I LOVE thin mints!!!
Stage: *grins* You rock my socks, you know that? And unfortunately, this fic is not gonna be too fluffy for Specs and Dutchy. Although, I was thinking of doing an Into the Woods parody with Dutchy as Cinderella.o.O
Sinhe: Dahling, this chappie is dedicated to you, since I wouldn't have written it if I hadn't been prodded into it. *MASSIVE, FLYING TACKLE* You're Hott and Seksah!!!!!!!!!
Crunch: You like Skittery/Snoddy too?! *flying tackle* You're my person of the day.
Caroline: *evil cackle* YOU HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!!!!!! Slash is good, slash is godlike.
Artemis: If you like Race, this is a good story for you to read. He's featured quite a bit. ^_~
Omni: ^_^_^_^_^_^_^ Your reviews make me sooo happy! *Carmen Maria hearts Omni*
kellyanne: yay!! Another slash newbie!! Trust me, it'll consume your life. My word for you is ADIDAS. (All Day I Dream About Slash)
Stardust: Ugh, I never get updates out soon. But here it is anyway, sweetie.
Spot-Alone
I walked quickly down the street, my footsteps echoing hollowly on the cobbled surface. The sky was heavy and overcast, obscuring the pale winter sunlight. Manhattan was cold today, and quiet. It felt like an old watercolor picture, with the beauty slowly dying. The usual clang and clamor of the city was gone, replaced by the gentle murmur of hundreds of whispers. People bustled around me, smears of faded paint. Even my shadow was lost to me, washed out in the all-encompassing grayness. Today that smudge of darkness would have been some comfort to me, some relief from this colorless landscape.
I was nearing the Brooklyn Bridge, my lifeline to this place. Sometimes I wondered why I came here at all. It wasn't my home; the people who lived here were strangers. And the newsies-well, they were practically strangers. They only knew as much as I let them know. Spot Conlon, the fierce Brooklyn leader. Hardened into jade, completely without feeling or pity. They thought they knew me, but they were blind.
Except for one. That one, he knows everything. And I'm beginning to think he doesn't care.
I shivered as the wind knifed through my thin shirt. The bony fingers of winter were already beginning to tighten, to strangle me with the cold and loneliness. I closed my eyes against the chilling gusts. I didn't want to see the snow that was starting to fall, didn't want to bear witness to the ice that was about to descend. But if I closed my thoughts against the oncoming freeze, then I couldn't keep myself from thinking about something else.
Jack was drifting away from me.
He thinks I don't know. He thinks I don't notice when his laughter turns hollow, when his eyes stare past me at something only he can see. He's always been a bit restless, but now it's as if he can't sit still, as if he's afraid he'll turn to stone if he stays in one place. A stone angel, an idol for children grown up too fast.
Maybe it's just the winter. It's hard for everyone, the burning cold and fiery freeze. Hunger twisting your insides so hard you think you'll never breathe again. The nights of despair, when you lie awake in your bed wondering if a life like this is better than dying. Wondering if you'll survive the season, wondering what in god's name did you do to deserve this.
Wondering if god is even out there. Does god listen to the prayers of street children? Surely not. No one else does.
Buy why, if he's feeling this depth of sorrow, wouldn't he tell me? Why wouldn't be tell me, in his warm, lovely voice, that he was hurting? I thought I had managed to slip past his defenses, slip past his mask toughened by years of living alone. He knows whatever he tells me stays with me. Why then is he hiding?
I don't know if it's just me, or if he was like this with everyone. I thought of him unburdening himself to others, of Blink or Dutchy comforting him in his sorrow, and felt the sour taste of jealousy flood my mouth. No, it couldn't be. If he was closed off with me, surely he was more so with them. They didn't understand him as I did, didn't love him so much it filled every part of them.
Besides, I know he cares for me more than anything. He promised me that, when we lay tangled together in his bed, the hot summer air settling down around us. He promised me that the first time we made love, the first time we held each other so close I could feel his heart beating next to mine. He promised me.
"Hey Spot! Wheah ya going, buddy?"
The sudden shout brought me out of my reverie, dragged me back from bittersweet memories. I kept my head down and kept walking. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now, wasn't in the mood to play my part. But I heard the footsteps speed up, determined to confront me. I sighed and turned around.
"Race!" I said, surprised. I wasn't expecting him. "Ise didn't see ya dere. How's it goin'?"
The shorter boy grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. "Not too bad, Spotsy. Not too bad."
I grimaced at the hated nickname. Miming a punch, I couldn't help but laugh as he pulled off an acrobatic dodge. "Race, if youse wasn't such a damn good sellah, I'd've killed ya a long time ago."
"Eh, join da club. I'll have ya know dere's a long line of people who wanna kill me," he said airily, a grin still on his face.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? An' why haven't dey killed ya yet?"
"What?!" Race said in mock indignation, clapping his hands to his heart. "Kill a beauty such as myself? It'd be a crime!"
I chuckled. He was certainly in a good mood. I've rarely seen him so genuinely happy. Normally his humor consisted of putting either himself or an enemy down. But today, he seemed almost joyful, the cynicism that usually turned his smiles bitter completely absent. His cheer was infectious, and I couldn't help feeling a tiny bit better.
"So whadda youse so 'appy about, ya bum?" I asked, curious.
Something flickered in his eyes. A secret, perhaps? Well, that'd be no surprise. There isn't a newsie out here that doesn't have a skeleton in the closet. But why would he hide something that made him so happy? Today was apparently the day for questions.
But in a moment, the shadow was gone. "'Ehy, ain't a guy allowed to be 'appy?" he said, still with a grin on his face. "It's beddah dan bein' down in da dumps," he concluded, with a shrewd glance in my direction.
I pointedly ignored that last statement. "Shoah youse allowed ta be in a good mood, Race. Well, I'll see ya around," I finished quickly and started to walk away.
I could feel his eyes on me as I turned my back to him. I'm sure he was still looking at me with that appraising, knowing look. Oh yes, Racetrack Higgins knew that something wasn't right.
Damn those nosey Italians. ******************************************************
Closing Comments~ I started writing again!!! Woo!! Erm, yes. This also turned out more depressing than I intended. So to make up for it, I added Happy!Race. Um, let's see.next chapter is Bumlets! Yay for pretty boy. And today is the birthday for this fic!! Erg, it's taken me a year to write 8 chapters.I'll do better, I promise!!!
Shout-Outs~
Merlin's Quill: Yay! You get bonus points for the word 'bloody.' ^_^
Fyre Eye: *sighs happily* I luuurve Mush/Blink as well.
Lee8: *bounces* I LOVE thin mints!!!
Stage: *grins* You rock my socks, you know that? And unfortunately, this fic is not gonna be too fluffy for Specs and Dutchy. Although, I was thinking of doing an Into the Woods parody with Dutchy as Cinderella.o.O
Sinhe: Dahling, this chappie is dedicated to you, since I wouldn't have written it if I hadn't been prodded into it. *MASSIVE, FLYING TACKLE* You're Hott and Seksah!!!!!!!!!
Crunch: You like Skittery/Snoddy too?! *flying tackle* You're my person of the day.
Caroline: *evil cackle* YOU HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!!!!!! Slash is good, slash is godlike.
Artemis: If you like Race, this is a good story for you to read. He's featured quite a bit. ^_~
Omni: ^_^_^_^_^_^_^ Your reviews make me sooo happy! *Carmen Maria hearts Omni*
kellyanne: yay!! Another slash newbie!! Trust me, it'll consume your life. My word for you is ADIDAS. (All Day I Dream About Slash)
Stardust: Ugh, I never get updates out soon. But here it is anyway, sweetie.
Spot-Alone
I walked quickly down the street, my footsteps echoing hollowly on the cobbled surface. The sky was heavy and overcast, obscuring the pale winter sunlight. Manhattan was cold today, and quiet. It felt like an old watercolor picture, with the beauty slowly dying. The usual clang and clamor of the city was gone, replaced by the gentle murmur of hundreds of whispers. People bustled around me, smears of faded paint. Even my shadow was lost to me, washed out in the all-encompassing grayness. Today that smudge of darkness would have been some comfort to me, some relief from this colorless landscape.
I was nearing the Brooklyn Bridge, my lifeline to this place. Sometimes I wondered why I came here at all. It wasn't my home; the people who lived here were strangers. And the newsies-well, they were practically strangers. They only knew as much as I let them know. Spot Conlon, the fierce Brooklyn leader. Hardened into jade, completely without feeling or pity. They thought they knew me, but they were blind.
Except for one. That one, he knows everything. And I'm beginning to think he doesn't care.
I shivered as the wind knifed through my thin shirt. The bony fingers of winter were already beginning to tighten, to strangle me with the cold and loneliness. I closed my eyes against the chilling gusts. I didn't want to see the snow that was starting to fall, didn't want to bear witness to the ice that was about to descend. But if I closed my thoughts against the oncoming freeze, then I couldn't keep myself from thinking about something else.
Jack was drifting away from me.
He thinks I don't know. He thinks I don't notice when his laughter turns hollow, when his eyes stare past me at something only he can see. He's always been a bit restless, but now it's as if he can't sit still, as if he's afraid he'll turn to stone if he stays in one place. A stone angel, an idol for children grown up too fast.
Maybe it's just the winter. It's hard for everyone, the burning cold and fiery freeze. Hunger twisting your insides so hard you think you'll never breathe again. The nights of despair, when you lie awake in your bed wondering if a life like this is better than dying. Wondering if you'll survive the season, wondering what in god's name did you do to deserve this.
Wondering if god is even out there. Does god listen to the prayers of street children? Surely not. No one else does.
Buy why, if he's feeling this depth of sorrow, wouldn't he tell me? Why wouldn't be tell me, in his warm, lovely voice, that he was hurting? I thought I had managed to slip past his defenses, slip past his mask toughened by years of living alone. He knows whatever he tells me stays with me. Why then is he hiding?
I don't know if it's just me, or if he was like this with everyone. I thought of him unburdening himself to others, of Blink or Dutchy comforting him in his sorrow, and felt the sour taste of jealousy flood my mouth. No, it couldn't be. If he was closed off with me, surely he was more so with them. They didn't understand him as I did, didn't love him so much it filled every part of them.
Besides, I know he cares for me more than anything. He promised me that, when we lay tangled together in his bed, the hot summer air settling down around us. He promised me that the first time we made love, the first time we held each other so close I could feel his heart beating next to mine. He promised me.
"Hey Spot! Wheah ya going, buddy?"
The sudden shout brought me out of my reverie, dragged me back from bittersweet memories. I kept my head down and kept walking. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now, wasn't in the mood to play my part. But I heard the footsteps speed up, determined to confront me. I sighed and turned around.
"Race!" I said, surprised. I wasn't expecting him. "Ise didn't see ya dere. How's it goin'?"
The shorter boy grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. "Not too bad, Spotsy. Not too bad."
I grimaced at the hated nickname. Miming a punch, I couldn't help but laugh as he pulled off an acrobatic dodge. "Race, if youse wasn't such a damn good sellah, I'd've killed ya a long time ago."
"Eh, join da club. I'll have ya know dere's a long line of people who wanna kill me," he said airily, a grin still on his face.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? An' why haven't dey killed ya yet?"
"What?!" Race said in mock indignation, clapping his hands to his heart. "Kill a beauty such as myself? It'd be a crime!"
I chuckled. He was certainly in a good mood. I've rarely seen him so genuinely happy. Normally his humor consisted of putting either himself or an enemy down. But today, he seemed almost joyful, the cynicism that usually turned his smiles bitter completely absent. His cheer was infectious, and I couldn't help feeling a tiny bit better.
"So whadda youse so 'appy about, ya bum?" I asked, curious.
Something flickered in his eyes. A secret, perhaps? Well, that'd be no surprise. There isn't a newsie out here that doesn't have a skeleton in the closet. But why would he hide something that made him so happy? Today was apparently the day for questions.
But in a moment, the shadow was gone. "'Ehy, ain't a guy allowed to be 'appy?" he said, still with a grin on his face. "It's beddah dan bein' down in da dumps," he concluded, with a shrewd glance in my direction.
I pointedly ignored that last statement. "Shoah youse allowed ta be in a good mood, Race. Well, I'll see ya around," I finished quickly and started to walk away.
I could feel his eyes on me as I turned my back to him. I'm sure he was still looking at me with that appraising, knowing look. Oh yes, Racetrack Higgins knew that something wasn't right.
Damn those nosey Italians. ******************************************************
Closing Comments~ I started writing again!!! Woo!! Erm, yes. This also turned out more depressing than I intended. So to make up for it, I added Happy!Race. Um, let's see.next chapter is Bumlets! Yay for pretty boy. And today is the birthday for this fic!! Erg, it's taken me a year to write 8 chapters.I'll do better, I promise!!!