Spot's POV
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
When he announced he was leaving, I don't think it really sunk in, for me at least, until he left the lodging house. I followed him down to the docks, mainly just to see if I really had heard him right. My own private denial that I foolishly indulged.
Stupid.
That's what I must be if I insist on torturing myself the way I do. Following him was bad enough, but sitting down next to him and trying to subtly hint that he shouldn't go was above any realm of dumbness I have ever heard of. And of course Jack is smart enough to pick up on them and point them out to me.
"What's yer problem Spot? You got a problem with me leaving? Am I your only competition or somethin'?"
I didn't answer him, but my mind though up a million and one answers I wanted to scream at him. The most insistent of which was something along the lines of, 'of course I have a problem with you leaving! I'm in love with you, you asshole!'. He and I were both quiet for a little while after that. And I wished I knew what he was thinking.
While I looked at the water, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes a few times. I can't resist to look at him if I'm around him. Seriously. His eyes, hair, lips. . . I have the worst (or best all considering) dreams about what I could be doing to those lips. Normally when he talks I only listen to him in the back of my mind, most of my energy has to go into making sure I don't just close the distance between us and kiss him. Because that would be wrong. On top of the fact that he's straighter then an arrow.
God, I sound pathetic. But I'm used to it. Around everyone else I'm Spot Conlon. Brooklyn's fearless, untouchable, cold leader. People don't mess with me, they don't talk back, they respect me. I'm practically the king of New York, as David said, the most respected newsie in New York. I can intimidate the toughest of street thugs and knife wielding criminals.
But if Jack Kelly is around me? Forget it, I might as well not even have a backbone. Oh, you couldn't tell it just by watching me. I'm an expert at hiding it, but it's there, burning through the walls I've perfected over the years and built around myself. And I hate it. And I hate him.
Yet I love him.
"I need to get away Spot. That's why I'm leaving. I can't deal with this, I need some time. . ." He trailed off, scaring me out of my thoughts as I wasn't expecting him to talk to me civilly.
He looked over at me, his chestnut eyes boring straight threw me, pleading with me to understand him. If only I could. But I can't, I'm a selfish person, I admit it. And I want Jack to stay here so I can see him. Even if he doesn't know how I feel about him (and preferably never will) I still need him nearby. And Santa Fe is just too damn much distance for me.
"Yeah, sure Kelly," I mutter, waving my hand slightly as if to dismiss his statement but he wraps his own hand around my wrist and twists it so my whole body is facing his. A fierce look is in his eyes, and he's making my wrist uncomfortable in pain, but I don't mind. Really.
"You may like this place Spot, but. . . you just don't get it," He sighed and let go of my wrist, almost throwing it make into my own face. His eyes have lost there angry spark, but they're still shining. The night's darkness helps too bring that shine out in his eyes, just another observation I've made about Jack over the years.
". . . and I'll miss Sarah, but, I don't know." Shit, he was talking and again I hadn't heard what the hell he was saying. But I did hear the name Sarah, and that's enough for me to make a complete ass of myself.
"You don't know what Jacky? It ain't like yer married to da goil. She'll get over it. Wese all losin somethin'. You leavin is going to effect a lot of people," I said with an edge to me voice. He threw me a confused look and just continued to stare until I felt my face start to heat up and I threw him a questioning glare.
"Oh yeah? Like who?" He asked, his voice surprised and also curious.
I jumped up from my seat next to him and gestured madly to the city which was sleeping all around us. "Everybody! Since da strike youse been more important den youse t'ink! Your boys need ya, da other newsies need ya, I'se need ya."
I froze.
Did I just say that out loud?
I took a small look at Jack, who was now also standing, and towering over me about two feet away. If the look of confused shock was anything to go by then yes, I did actually say that I needed him. I definitely have to get out of this situation - and now.
I turned to leave, run away faster then I've ever run, but I have found that I can't exactly run because Jack's holding my wrist and throwing me the weirdest look. I don't like that look.
"What. . . what did you just say?" He asked looking at me as if I wasn't who he thought I was. Maybe I wasn't. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if pigs actually flew at that moment. All I saw was Jack's eyes watched me and his firm grip on my wrist. And the pit in the bottom of my stomach.
"Nothing," I mumbled and tried, although not to hard, to get myself free of his grasp. So he countered by tightening his hold. Damn.
Have I mentioned how stupid I am?
A/N: Jack's POV will be next. And the plot thickens. I am also aware that Spot is out of character slightly *snorts* but does anyone really know what's going on inside his mind? No. So hey, hey, hey!
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
When he announced he was leaving, I don't think it really sunk in, for me at least, until he left the lodging house. I followed him down to the docks, mainly just to see if I really had heard him right. My own private denial that I foolishly indulged.
Stupid.
That's what I must be if I insist on torturing myself the way I do. Following him was bad enough, but sitting down next to him and trying to subtly hint that he shouldn't go was above any realm of dumbness I have ever heard of. And of course Jack is smart enough to pick up on them and point them out to me.
"What's yer problem Spot? You got a problem with me leaving? Am I your only competition or somethin'?"
I didn't answer him, but my mind though up a million and one answers I wanted to scream at him. The most insistent of which was something along the lines of, 'of course I have a problem with you leaving! I'm in love with you, you asshole!'. He and I were both quiet for a little while after that. And I wished I knew what he was thinking.
While I looked at the water, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes a few times. I can't resist to look at him if I'm around him. Seriously. His eyes, hair, lips. . . I have the worst (or best all considering) dreams about what I could be doing to those lips. Normally when he talks I only listen to him in the back of my mind, most of my energy has to go into making sure I don't just close the distance between us and kiss him. Because that would be wrong. On top of the fact that he's straighter then an arrow.
God, I sound pathetic. But I'm used to it. Around everyone else I'm Spot Conlon. Brooklyn's fearless, untouchable, cold leader. People don't mess with me, they don't talk back, they respect me. I'm practically the king of New York, as David said, the most respected newsie in New York. I can intimidate the toughest of street thugs and knife wielding criminals.
But if Jack Kelly is around me? Forget it, I might as well not even have a backbone. Oh, you couldn't tell it just by watching me. I'm an expert at hiding it, but it's there, burning through the walls I've perfected over the years and built around myself. And I hate it. And I hate him.
Yet I love him.
"I need to get away Spot. That's why I'm leaving. I can't deal with this, I need some time. . ." He trailed off, scaring me out of my thoughts as I wasn't expecting him to talk to me civilly.
He looked over at me, his chestnut eyes boring straight threw me, pleading with me to understand him. If only I could. But I can't, I'm a selfish person, I admit it. And I want Jack to stay here so I can see him. Even if he doesn't know how I feel about him (and preferably never will) I still need him nearby. And Santa Fe is just too damn much distance for me.
"Yeah, sure Kelly," I mutter, waving my hand slightly as if to dismiss his statement but he wraps his own hand around my wrist and twists it so my whole body is facing his. A fierce look is in his eyes, and he's making my wrist uncomfortable in pain, but I don't mind. Really.
"You may like this place Spot, but. . . you just don't get it," He sighed and let go of my wrist, almost throwing it make into my own face. His eyes have lost there angry spark, but they're still shining. The night's darkness helps too bring that shine out in his eyes, just another observation I've made about Jack over the years.
". . . and I'll miss Sarah, but, I don't know." Shit, he was talking and again I hadn't heard what the hell he was saying. But I did hear the name Sarah, and that's enough for me to make a complete ass of myself.
"You don't know what Jacky? It ain't like yer married to da goil. She'll get over it. Wese all losin somethin'. You leavin is going to effect a lot of people," I said with an edge to me voice. He threw me a confused look and just continued to stare until I felt my face start to heat up and I threw him a questioning glare.
"Oh yeah? Like who?" He asked, his voice surprised and also curious.
I jumped up from my seat next to him and gestured madly to the city which was sleeping all around us. "Everybody! Since da strike youse been more important den youse t'ink! Your boys need ya, da other newsies need ya, I'se need ya."
I froze.
Did I just say that out loud?
I took a small look at Jack, who was now also standing, and towering over me about two feet away. If the look of confused shock was anything to go by then yes, I did actually say that I needed him. I definitely have to get out of this situation - and now.
I turned to leave, run away faster then I've ever run, but I have found that I can't exactly run because Jack's holding my wrist and throwing me the weirdest look. I don't like that look.
"What. . . what did you just say?" He asked looking at me as if I wasn't who he thought I was. Maybe I wasn't. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if pigs actually flew at that moment. All I saw was Jack's eyes watched me and his firm grip on my wrist. And the pit in the bottom of my stomach.
"Nothing," I mumbled and tried, although not to hard, to get myself free of his grasp. So he countered by tightening his hold. Damn.
Have I mentioned how stupid I am?
A/N: Jack's POV will be next. And the plot thickens. I am also aware that Spot is out of character slightly *snorts* but does anyone really know what's going on inside his mind? No. So hey, hey, hey!