A/N: wow, this turned out totally different than the rest of my songfics. It actually has…a plot! *claps for self* and it's two songs in one fic. I'm quite happy with myself *beams*. Are you happy with me? Please R&R and tell me!!
Disclaimer: I. Own. Nothing. Story of the Year owns both Burning Years (the first song) and Dive Right In (the second song) the lyrics are in bold/italics if you didn't realize that. Disney/ the real people own all of the newsies except Kicks and Marbles. Those guys are mine.
Spot Conlon placed the letter on his bed as his head collapsed into his hands. Hot tears streamed down his face. He knew what he had done to Racetrack, but he hadn't faced it. Now he had. He had run away. He needed to go back and apologize, but he didn't know what to say. that's why he hadn't apologized before. After what seemed like a whole day, he finally got up the courage and walked out of the Brooklyn Lodging House.
"Ey Marbles, what's dat papah on Spot's bunk say?" Kicks, the oldest Brooklyn newsie asked to the younger Marbles, since Kicks could not read and Marbles could as they walked into the bunkroom. The younger boy walked over to his leader's bunk and picked up the off-white piece of rumpled paper. He read it to himself first.
Dear Spot,
it's not what you have said, it's what you have done
to let this come between us
you're right, without a fight,
this might be worth it to you and in the process gotten to me
"hey Race. Where's Spot been lately?" everyone keeps asking me. What do I tell them? I tell them that you're just real busy right now. They don't believe me though. I can tell by the pitying looks I get when they think I don't see. But I do see. I see every unsaid thought. Like when Snitch silently tells Skittery that you've left me. I hate it. I hate being pitied by all my friends. Maybe if you hadn't gotten all weird with me. You used to love me, but then that day, when Jack found out, you seemed to have stopped. You never said it, but you never come around anymore. Whenever I see on the street, or in Tibby's, or at Medda's, you always avoid eye contact and walk away from me. I can tell that you don't want to be this way anymore. You never wanted to be like this. But nobody can choose those kind of things. You just have to make the best of it. You didn't.
I think that nothing can fly
with this broken wing
There's so much to hold on to now
I used to be so free. Everyone can tell what you've done to me though. I still do things with the guys, but they can tell that I'm not my old sarcastic self. They miss me. I miss me. I miss you. I guess we're all just a bunch guys who miss each other huh? I never thought I would say that. But I just did.
nothing can fly, with this broken wing
so here's a gift...in this feather
I gave you my everything Spot. You never returned it either. You still have it, and I don't want it back. I want you to keep it, but I need it back. I'm empty without it, and you are just too full my friend.
you've gone to far
left standing alone
let's sort this out together
you're right, without a fight,
this might be worth it to you but I can't take this anymore
Now, you're all the way in Brooklyn, and you left me here in Manhattan. You left me without even saying goodbye. Please come back. We can talk this over. I know you don't want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you. Please, stop being so selfish.
I think that nothing can fly
with this broken wing
there's so much to hold on to now
You really hurt me Spot. You don't seem to understand how much you meant to me. How much you still do. Its funny to think, that when we were together, I was the happiest I had ever been in my entire life. You were too. But as soon as anyone found out about that happiness, you didn't want it anymore. I think that is what hurt the most. Not you leaving, though that almost killed me. It was you caring what others thought which did kill me.
nothing can fly, with this broken wing
so here's a gift...in this feather
from this house of our friendship shut the door
light the match, throw behind u and walk away
You don't even want to be friends. I know it probably wouldn't have worked, me being in love with you and all. I just wish you could admit that you did love me at one point. Maybe you don't anymore, but I know you used to. Back when nobody knew about us. Jack doesn't care. He's supportive either way. Nobody cares. And you want to know why? Because they are our friends. doesn't that word mean anything to you? Friends don't care about those things. As long as your happy. But now they don't like you anymore. Because of what you did to me. I'm not happy, and you are the cause.
these ashes
these ashes
these ashes
Nostalgia. Gotta love it. I can remember everything we did together. Whenever I see anything that reminds me of you, Brooklyn, the Brooklyn Bridge, red suspenders- I want to cry. But I don't. I keep it all inside. One day I may not be able to though. I really do try. I don't want to be such a girl.
I think that nothing can fly
with this broken wing
there's so much to hold on to now
There's nothing left for me to say Spot.
nothing can fly, with this broken wing
so here's a gift...in this feather
nothing can fly, with this broken wing
so here's a gift...in this feather
Still Loving you,
Racetrack
"Oh hey Spot! Long time no see eh?" Snitch greeted as he opened the door to his old friend.
"Hey Snitch. Is uh…is Race here?" Spot stuttered out, nervously cracking his knuckles out of habit.
"Yeah. He's upstairs." Snitch nodded his head towards the familiar staircase. Spot had been here many times. He used to come almost every night. He hadn't been here in about a month now though. Spot heard the door close behind him as he started up the creaky wooden stairs. When he finally made it to the top, he paused, staring at the wooden door in front of him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before reaching for the metal doorknob. He turned it with great ease and pushed the thin door open. Spot slowly opened up his eyes to see Racetrack laying on his bunk, just staring at the bunk above him. Spot just stood there, feet glued to the floor. His chest felt compressed as he became short of breath. He could hear the quiver that was developing in every breath he took. Finally the silence was broken.
"What do you want Spot?" Race said, without even looking at him. Spot opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get the words out. He felt like a fish.[1]
"I came to…uh well…apologize. Race I've been an idiot" Spot's neck couldn't seem to hold the weight of his head any longer, forcing his face to stare at the floor. There was no answer coming from Racetrack, so Spot turned around and left the room. He ran down the stairs and all the way back to Brooklyn. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Why had he gone back there? Race probably hadn't even written the note. It was probably Jack having some fun. Damn them all. Spot hoped that they would all just burn in hell and let him get on with his life.
~-~-~-~-~
"Marbles, what does it say?" Kicks asked after giving Marbles a minute or two to read it over himself.
"Oh, its just a price list for something" Marbles lied. He looked up to Spot, and would protect him. He knew that Kicks would make fun of Spot if he found out, so he would just have to keep this to himself.
"Oh, okay" Kicks said, obviously disappointed that it wasn't something juicy. Kicks was the official gossiper of Brooklyn. If he knew something, so did everyone else. He loved to talk, especially about other people's business.
"Maybe our Spotty's a prostitute er somet'in." Kicks said through a laugh before he turned and headed towards his own bunk.
"Yeah" Marbles said quietly as he stuffed the letter into his pocket and left the Lodging House.
~-~-~-~-~
Spot stood on the edge of his very own pier, looking out over the murky green water below. His breath was still quivering. He knew that Race's rejection was a possibility, but he didn't think it was such a big one.
So here I go
I'll dive right in
Break through the waves
Straight to the ocean floor
This was his next brilliant idea. Plan A- talk things over with Race. That failed. Plan B- well, this was plan B. hopefully it worked a little better than Plan A. the hand that clutched the wooden pole was shaking.
And although my hands are shaking
I lie perfectly still
Cause I'm determined to let myself sink down
"I've already sunk" Spot thought as the waves rippled the water. He slid his feet to the very edge of the dock, so his toes were dangling off.
And I know I'm buried too far down
To feel the warmth from the sun again
The sun was shining down on him, but his face still felt so cold. He wasn't chicken. He didn't want to run away from his life. But this seemed like the only choice left.
I could wave my arms and swim away
But never reach the shore
But for now I will lay face first in the sand
With the wreckage from ships that lost their way
Only his heels were on the dock still. He carefully released the pole and fell forward. The cold water surrounded him, flooding his mouth and nose, and he let it.
And I know I'm buried too far down
To feel the warmth from the sun again
~-~-~-~-~
"SPOT!" Racetrack called as he saw his love plummet face first into the harbor water. He ran faster than he knew he could all the way to the edge of the pier and plunged in before even acknowledging that he couldn't swim. It didn't matter though. He needed to get to Spot. The saltwater stung his eyes as he opened them to try to see. The pain was worth it though. He quickly saw Spot, and grabbed the back of his shirt. Spot wasn't responding at all. If Race had time to think, he would have realized that this was Spot's own doing, and it was what he wanted. He heft the thin body into his arms and struggled to reach the surface. He couldn't do it though. He couldn't have done it even if he wasn't holding someone else in his arms. He didn't know how to swim. The body below him started to move. It pushed him to the surface then sank back down. Not before Race grabbed the shirt again. He was now on stable ground, so he had his strength back. He pulled as hard as he could on the shirt and once again pulled Spot into his arms. His face was pale and his chest wasn't moving. Race leaned in and tried to revive him. Spot's eyes finally fluttered open to see the love of his life staring straight at him, tears clearly streaming down his soaked face. His dark brown hair was plastered in smooth ringlets on his forehead and his eyes were large and wary from crying.
"Spot! You're alive!" Race exclaimed as soon as he realized that Spot's clear blue eyes had opened.
"I'm so sorry. I'm a real asshole. Forgive me?" Race pleaded, eyes still large and worried. Spot didn't answer with words. He didn't need to. He just propped himself up on his elbows and graced Race's lips with his own.
[1] I hope you don't mind that I used your comparison Saturday!
A/N: so waddaya think? R&R and tell me!! I neeeeeed to knooooowwww!!!!!!!!!