Chapter Two: Our Dying Day

Spot looked so small and fragile. Jack sat with the other boy on the rooftop of his apartment building. Several stories below the busy New York streets screamed with traffic. Spot had a swollen lip, dry blood caked in the corner of his mouth and blood still running from his nose. He had told Jack he ran all the way to Manhattan. Jack believed him, it was nearly five a.m. and Spot wore only a pair of grey sweats. His thin chest showed bruises that were old and turning yellow, large black ones and several and ugly reddish-purple.

Three flights of stairs below Jack's foster family slept. Jack had been awake watching t.v. when he heard the mad banging on the apartment door. 'Jack,' Spot had called. His voice had trembled. Jack flung the door opened. He saw Spot more beat up then he had ever looked. He was actually trembling. Spot grabbed his hand and Jack followed as they climbed up to the roof.

Patiently, Jack waited for Spot to speak. They had been up here half and hour and Spot hadn't spoken a word.

"He found out."

"Who?"

"My Dad. And my Uncle, he's been staying with us the last week. My Dad saw this," Spot touched a hickey on his chest Jack had given him. "He laughed first. Said I musta had some real wild chick. My Mother comments with 'Then where's the lipstick marks? Why don't he ever smell like perfume?' "

Jack only sat and listened. Spot's hands were trembling. Jack now wished he had grabbed a pack of smokes before they came up here.

"My Uncle Jimmy says 'Hey, maybe he's fuckin' a dude.' I dunno what happened. I must turned red, or maybe it was 'cause I didn't say 'No I'm not.' But my Dad flew up outta his chair and punched me right in the face. My Uncle Jimmy was on me then, they both were just wailin' on me. They only stopped 'cause Mom said they'd kill me if they didn't let up. I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Mom was yellin' 'bout that. She told me to leave then, not to come back or she'd let Dad and Jimmy kill me."

"Jesus, Spot, I am so sorry."

"I can't ever do nuttin' right, Jacky. Can't kill myself right. I've tried since I was twelve. Overdosed on pills, ended up puking those up. Tried to blow my head off, the damn gun jammed. Even cut my wrists," he held up his wrist so Jack could see the thick scars. "I did that one while at my Grandmother's. Scared her so bad she had a heart attack. I can't even be happy right."

"What do you mean, Spot? You make me happy. Don't I make you happy? Don't you feel the same?"

"I'm happy when I'm with you, yeah. But when I'm home or at school, it's hell, Jacky. I can only be free when I'm with you."

"But you can't be with me 24/7."

"And I can't be free without you."

Jack stood holding his hand out to Spot. Spot took it, carefully pulling himself to his feet. They stood on the edge of the roof, hand in hand looking out at the city.

"It's beautiful as long as you don't gotta live here," Spot commented.

"The birds are lucky," Jack said. "They get to fly away from it all. Leave the city."

"Leave the noise."

"Leave it all."

"Be free with me, Jacky?"

Jack tenderly kissed Spot on the lips. "Always."

Hand in hand the both took a small step at a time until their bare toes hung over open air.

"I'm scared," Spot whispered.

"I'm not."

"Why not?"

Jack held up his hand cupped over Spot's. "'Cause."

"It'll be like a faded memory."

"An intoxicated dream."

They took a final step over the edge never letting go of the other.

A Note from the Author: Yeah, so..... that's my Angsty!Spot/Jack slash.

This sad yet sweet piece of slash has been brought to you by P.P.S. Productions.