Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any other media references I may make throughout the duration of this fic.
Chapter 3- The Difficulty of Swallowing Lies
Spot
Racetrack came home late tonight, said hello, and lay down on his bed with a giant Calculus textbook. I didn't say anything to him and he was so unconcerned with me that I thought maybe I imagined him saying anything at all.
"Race, did you mean..."
He turned over and stared at me across the room. The light above his bed was the only one on and I squinted through the darkness.
"Did I mean what? Spot, are you OK?"
I nodded and swallowed. "Did you...wake me up last night and...and tell me—uh—anything?"
"I didn't tell you—"he looked hesitant "I didn't say anything."
I sighed and put my hands behind my head. "How was your day?" I asked after a while.
"Fine," he hesitated again, "I saw Cherish at the coffee shop."
"How is she?" I suddenly remembered the phone call and how I haven't called her back.
"I don't know, I had to get something from the back room and didn't have time to talk to her." Racetrack flipped the page in his book and skimmed the page.
"I didn't go to class today," I admitted, running my hand over my face. He looked up, shocked, and stared at me.
"Why not? Are you feeling OK?"
"No, I'm..." should I tell him? "Yeah, that's right. I wasn't feeling too good this morning."
It was just a white lie but I could feel a pit at the base of my stomach. How could I lie to Racetrack who I thought loved me? Who I thought loved me. He doesn't really because I imagined the whole thing. Didn't I?
Racetrack
Spot was lying on his bed when I got home. It was already dark out, being close to ten, by the time I got in. his hair was rumpled and his face was smeared and tired looking. He asked me if I'd told him anything last night. I told him I hadn't. He thought he'd dreamt it. Such a thing he wished didn't happen to such an extent that he imagined himself out of it. And I let him.
I had to lie to him. You had to have been there and seen his eyes. The pleading look in them that begged me to tell him that he was dreaming. I can't believe that he suffered so much because I told him the truth so I fixed it the best I could and told him that I didn't say a thing. His eyes filled with relief and almost ever gratitude. He believed me. He believed every word of it.
What the hell was I thinking, telling him that I loved him? I knew this would happen. I'd lie to him for the rest of my life. What if he gets married and asks me to be his best man? What if he marries Cherish and asks me to be their best man? I'll lie to God when I keep silent during the ceremony. I can't do that; I'm going to be lying for the rest of my life.
But I've already started by letting him believe I'm only his friend, not his insanely in love with him friend. I just want to hold him, to whisper things of wonder into his ear as we lie here. The thing I want most is to feel his chest rise and fall beside mine and to feel his breath against my neck as he tells me he loves me back. So far the closest I can get to him is to be sitting across the room from him like this, and even at this point I can hardly keep myself from jumping across the room and kissing him, kissing Spot. Feeling his warm, smooth lips against mine. But I can't because Spot is straight and dating one of my best friends.
"How is she?" he asks me of Cherish.
I tell him the truth that I don't know because I was in the back room. I leave out the fact that I was crying. Crying over him.
And he didn't go to class. He didn't go to class because he 'wasn't feeling well'. He's lying to me too now and it's entirely my fault. He's lying because I told him I didn't say anything. He didn't go to class because he didn't know what was going on, because he was confused.
Spot's hand finds his stomach as he stares blindly at the ceiling. I match his movements and find mine as well. I rub it and push down hard, trying to beat away the guilt. It gathers and travels to one side, taunting me, daring me to chase it out. In seconds I am doubled over on the floor, throwing up.
"Racetrack, are you OK?" Spot leans over me, but doesn't want to come too close. I look up at him and notice something for the first time; he's wearing my shirt.
This makes me sicker and even though I try to nod and tell him I'll be fine I clutch my stomach and rush to the bathroom. Spot, can you see what you're doing to me? Can you see how much pain I'm in right now?
((What do you think about that? I don't now why I made Racetrack throw up, honest; it was just something that seemed like it fit. Anyways, R&R!))
Shoutouts:
Erin Go Bragh- my dad is a very lax Buddhist so he doesn't have a church. Maybe a temple, but none he attends. As for Bums' mom being gay, everyone loves it. I like Spanish. It's better than French. Well, not the Mizzies, just the language and the fact that I can't speak it.
Coin- I had to go back and reread that paragraph. I didn't know what you were talking about. Now I do. Thanks! Bumlets' mom ROCKS!
Strawberri Shake- join the club. No boyfriend on this end either. I think it's because I spend too much time on fanfiction and I'm not out there meeting them. No, that's not really why. The guys I know are...stupid. And nerdy. Yep...BUMS' MOMMY ALL THE WAY!
Chapter 3- The Difficulty of Swallowing Lies
Spot
Racetrack came home late tonight, said hello, and lay down on his bed with a giant Calculus textbook. I didn't say anything to him and he was so unconcerned with me that I thought maybe I imagined him saying anything at all.
"Race, did you mean..."
He turned over and stared at me across the room. The light above his bed was the only one on and I squinted through the darkness.
"Did I mean what? Spot, are you OK?"
I nodded and swallowed. "Did you...wake me up last night and...and tell me—uh—anything?"
"I didn't tell you—"he looked hesitant "I didn't say anything."
I sighed and put my hands behind my head. "How was your day?" I asked after a while.
"Fine," he hesitated again, "I saw Cherish at the coffee shop."
"How is she?" I suddenly remembered the phone call and how I haven't called her back.
"I don't know, I had to get something from the back room and didn't have time to talk to her." Racetrack flipped the page in his book and skimmed the page.
"I didn't go to class today," I admitted, running my hand over my face. He looked up, shocked, and stared at me.
"Why not? Are you feeling OK?"
"No, I'm..." should I tell him? "Yeah, that's right. I wasn't feeling too good this morning."
It was just a white lie but I could feel a pit at the base of my stomach. How could I lie to Racetrack who I thought loved me? Who I thought loved me. He doesn't really because I imagined the whole thing. Didn't I?
Racetrack
Spot was lying on his bed when I got home. It was already dark out, being close to ten, by the time I got in. his hair was rumpled and his face was smeared and tired looking. He asked me if I'd told him anything last night. I told him I hadn't. He thought he'd dreamt it. Such a thing he wished didn't happen to such an extent that he imagined himself out of it. And I let him.
I had to lie to him. You had to have been there and seen his eyes. The pleading look in them that begged me to tell him that he was dreaming. I can't believe that he suffered so much because I told him the truth so I fixed it the best I could and told him that I didn't say a thing. His eyes filled with relief and almost ever gratitude. He believed me. He believed every word of it.
What the hell was I thinking, telling him that I loved him? I knew this would happen. I'd lie to him for the rest of my life. What if he gets married and asks me to be his best man? What if he marries Cherish and asks me to be their best man? I'll lie to God when I keep silent during the ceremony. I can't do that; I'm going to be lying for the rest of my life.
But I've already started by letting him believe I'm only his friend, not his insanely in love with him friend. I just want to hold him, to whisper things of wonder into his ear as we lie here. The thing I want most is to feel his chest rise and fall beside mine and to feel his breath against my neck as he tells me he loves me back. So far the closest I can get to him is to be sitting across the room from him like this, and even at this point I can hardly keep myself from jumping across the room and kissing him, kissing Spot. Feeling his warm, smooth lips against mine. But I can't because Spot is straight and dating one of my best friends.
"How is she?" he asks me of Cherish.
I tell him the truth that I don't know because I was in the back room. I leave out the fact that I was crying. Crying over him.
And he didn't go to class. He didn't go to class because he 'wasn't feeling well'. He's lying to me too now and it's entirely my fault. He's lying because I told him I didn't say anything. He didn't go to class because he didn't know what was going on, because he was confused.
Spot's hand finds his stomach as he stares blindly at the ceiling. I match his movements and find mine as well. I rub it and push down hard, trying to beat away the guilt. It gathers and travels to one side, taunting me, daring me to chase it out. In seconds I am doubled over on the floor, throwing up.
"Racetrack, are you OK?" Spot leans over me, but doesn't want to come too close. I look up at him and notice something for the first time; he's wearing my shirt.
This makes me sicker and even though I try to nod and tell him I'll be fine I clutch my stomach and rush to the bathroom. Spot, can you see what you're doing to me? Can you see how much pain I'm in right now?
((What do you think about that? I don't now why I made Racetrack throw up, honest; it was just something that seemed like it fit. Anyways, R&R!))
Shoutouts:
Erin Go Bragh- my dad is a very lax Buddhist so he doesn't have a church. Maybe a temple, but none he attends. As for Bums' mom being gay, everyone loves it. I like Spanish. It's better than French. Well, not the Mizzies, just the language and the fact that I can't speak it.
Coin- I had to go back and reread that paragraph. I didn't know what you were talking about. Now I do. Thanks! Bumlets' mom ROCKS!
Strawberri Shake- join the club. No boyfriend on this end either. I think it's because I spend too much time on fanfiction and I'm not out there meeting them. No, that's not really why. The guys I know are...stupid. And nerdy. Yep...BUMS' MOMMY ALL THE WAY!