Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Or half the information of this story, half is owned by Rubix the Cube because this is what we RPed about. And she came up with half and I came up with the other half. I share all claims to this story with her.

This story (and the porn RP's) are the only happiness that I get in my life right now. It basically sucks. So yeah, I'm going to be writing a lot. Unless you want me to deal with my anger through other dangerous matters, I'm going to be updating this a lot. Writing is my best friend, period.

I headed home from Snitch's house at around 9 o'clock that was usually the time I went home. Whenever I went home I ran straight to my room and went to bed, hoping that my father wouldn't notice that I was home. And if he did, hopefully he'll think that I'm asleep and he'll leave me alone. Usually it worked, but tonight it didn't.

He came in and just started beating up on me, like he used to. I thought that everything was okay, finally he stopped hitting me, but I was wrong. I ran out of the house as fast as I could, trying my hardest to get out of his grip. I grabbed everything as fast as I could. Crying, and alone, I headed into my car, the only thing that would save me from the hell that was called my home.

I felt lost, I felt alone. The only place I felt like I was wanted and needed was with Snitch. I hated bothering him, I really did, but it was the only thing I could do. I was scared of being alone, I was scared of being away from him. I didn't know what to do, so I went to the only place where I knew that I wouldn't and couldn't be hurt. I headed to Snitch's house.

I ran to his doorstep, crying hysterically, I knocked. His beautiful mother opened the door. "Trigger, hunny, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." I sniffled. "Is Snitch there?"

"Sweetheart, look at your eye! Oh my God! Come in, please, hunny, let me put some ice on that." She said as she wrapped her arms around me, bringing me inside her house.

"Thank you." I said, swallowing, trying to stop crying. She took me to the kitchen and gave me some ice as she doctored my wound. Usually Daddy didn't aim for my face, he usually aimed for my arms or sides, somewhere no one will notice. I guess he was too drunk to realize that his wounds were going to be seen.

Snitch came running down the stairs as soon as he heard crying. "Trig?" He said, as he stumbled down to come to me. He knelt down beside me and grabbed my hand. "Oh God, Trig. He did it again?" He said. I knew he told his mom about what was happening, he told me he did. She wanted to say something, but she promised she wouldn't.

"No, I'm okay." I told him. "It's nothing. I just didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry."

"Trig, don't worry about it. You know you can always come here." He told me as he kissed my hand, as I still cried. "Mom, can she stay here tonight?" He asked.

Stay? Dude, I can't possibly stay here, that's asking too much from Snitch and his mom. They've done so much for me already; I can't expect this from them. I don't know where I'd go, but I can't stay here.

"Of course, sweetie." She said to Snitch. "Trigger, you can always come here, don't worry about it. If he's hitting you like tonight, don't feel bad for coming here. You're always welcome here." She said as she walked out of the kitchen.

It was just me and Snitch. He gently touched my face and then his head dropped. "I'm sorry."

What could I say? There was nothing I could say to make him feel like it wasn't his fault, which it wasn't. I knew he knew that, but he didn't want to believe it. I took his hand in mine and I brought it up to my face and kissed it. It was the only thing I could do to make him understand. I loved his hands. They were just...I don't know, beautiful.

I believe you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. I know that's like psycho, but it's like when people say when you look into people's eyes, you can see their soul. Hands are my thing. Yeah I love eyes, but I find hands more attractive, or whatever. I mean, it's like I can read hands, not like a palm reader or something, but I can tell what kind of person you are through the way you're hands are. From the very shape of your fingers, to the fact that you bite your nails or not. It's weird, I just find hands so interesting. Well this is me, and that's you. Deal. Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm talking about hands now. Why do I always do this?

"Are you sure you're okay, Tri? Do you want me to get you anything?" He asked.

"No I'm fine, you're here now." I smiled. I didn't want to smile, but I just had to. I mean, it hurt me to see that he had a perfect family, besides a father, and I didn't. I don't want to be selfish or to feel sorry for myself, but, I mean, you can't help but to be envious of one who has something that you don't. I bet he doesn't know what it's like for me. I bet he's never been hit by his mom. I bet she's never called him a mean name in his life. She loves him, he's her youngest son. She's so proud of him and she'll always be that way. He'll never have to deal with disappointment from her. He's perfect. He's smart, talented, and a good kid, something every parent wishes they have.

And then there's me. I'm imperfect, not smart, and not talented. I'm a horrible kid, I mean, just look at me. I'm anything but a perfect child. All I do is rely on other people to make my life happy or what not. It sucks. I hate this. I hate everything about it. I know they don't look upon it this way, but I do. I don't take anything from anyone, and I don't let anyone feel sorry for me. I'm not ashamed that I'm treated this way; I'm hurt because of it. I'm coldhearted, and I'm bitter, but that's okay. I'm used to hearing devious names being thrown my way, so I do it too. I don't try it, but I do it. Sometimes those names are hurtful, sometimes they're not. I don't know any better. But this is me. And he loves me...I hope.

"What happened, Trig?"

"I don't know. Nothing." Nothing? It's always nothing that happens, but I get blamed for it. "He just-got mad." I told him, trying to avoid the confrontation.

"Well do you..."

"I'm tired; can you show me where I'm going to sleep?" I interrupted him. I wanted to do anything but sleep. I hurt like hell, my face did at least.

"Yeah." He said as he took my hand. "Is my brother's room okay?" He asked, in kinda a depressed tone of voice.

"It's fine." I told him.

"No. It's not." He said as he took me to his brother's room. It was a nice room, all neat and stuff. I mean, yeah it was a room. You could tell it was a guy's room because of all the posters of football and basketball stars in it. There were trophies and stuff in it. So yeah, typical guy's room. Not that I expected flowers and pretty pink bunny wallpaper or anything, it was just a room. I looked around at the stuff, Snitch knew I was interested.

"Yeah he was a jock." He told me. "He was always into sports and everything. He played basketball, football, soccer, and just about everything else there is to play." He said. "He was really good. He was a lot more talented than I am."

"Snitch you're talented."

"Yeah in school. In writing. Not in things that actually matter." Matter? What the hell is this about 'matter'? When has Snitch ever cared about being someone or whatever?

"Snitch, I wish I was half as talented in school as you are. School will get you really far, Snitch. You're smart, you're like so damn smart, it sucks. You can remember things better than I can. You're an amazing writer too." I told him.

"Yeah, well it doesn't get you a free ride into college like football does." Oh I see it now. He feels bad because his brother got into college free because of a football scholarship. And he feels like he's disappointing his mom because she'll have to pay for his college. It all makes sense now.

"Snitch it doesn't matter if you get a free ride in or not. Look, as far as I can see it, I'm paying for my own college. My dad doesn't give a shit about whether or not I pass or fail high school and I doubt that he's going to care at all if I make it into college."

"Yeah, but it still doesn't make up for having to burden your mom with all those payments and shit." He said.

"Look, she's fine with it, honestly. I'm sure of it, Snitch." How could I be sure? I barely know the woman, but she's nice and I know she's fine with it.

"Yeah." He didn't believe me.

"Look, Snitch, your brother was good at sports. You're good at academics. There's a difference there. I mean, you don't know how many people would kill to have your brain." It's true. That stupid ass-wipe and his sponge brain. Stupid fucking photographic memory. I want to kick your ass! Put 'em up!

"Yeah I guess." He said.

"You guess, what do you mean, you guess?" I said as I wrapped my arms around him.

"I know. I was just acting like a jackass, that's all." He said as he kissed me.

"I love you." I whispered to him. We kissed again. It was all good.

We both stayed up for about an hour, just studying and talking and stuff. I went over to his brother's room because I was fucking tired. Not tired of fucking, but fucking tired. There's a difference. Don't get confused. We didn't do anything today. No wait we did. Oh God I don't know. I'm so confused and tired at the same time.

I laid down in his brother's bed. It was weird because I don't know his brother and stuff. I've never slept in a dude's bed before. Maybe I have. I don't know. I was too tired to think about anything, so I just slept there.

I didn't even hear the door open and I didn't even feel Snitch slip in beside me. I was that knocked out. I felt him kiss my neck and rest his head on my shoulder. "Trig, are you asleep?" He muttered.

"Yeah." I groaned.

"Really?"

"Yeah." I groaned again. When I'm sleeping, let me sleep damnit!

"I love you." He told me again. Dude, fuck off. I'm tired, let me sleep. I let you sleep, what now you had your sandwich and you're all up and running.

...well I didn't have my sandwich so I'm fucking sleeping. Deal with it.

I felt him nibbling on my ear, which I loved so uberly much. I couldn't resist it. But fuck, my sex drive was on low. "Snitch..." I said, hoping that he'd get the message.

"What?"

"Not now." I mumbled. "I need sleep."

"Can I stay with you?" He asked as he rested his head on my shoulder.

"I don't know, Snitch. I want you to, but I don't know." I told him.

"Why not? Who's gonna know?"

"Well when your mom comes into your room in the morning and sees that you're not there, what is she going to think?" I told him. It was the truth.

"Alright, Trig." He said, leaving abruptly. He knew I wasn't in the mood to argue. When I'm not in the mood, leave me the fuck alone.

I laid there for about a half an hour or maybe even an hour. It was weird, I missed him. I felt like a fucking loser and I felt pathetic, but I missed him and he was like a room away.

...God why am I so fucking pathetic?

I turned to my back and looked at the ceiling. What is wrong with me? Why am I such a fuckfruit? I can't miss him this much, I mean, he's like right next door to me. God why did you make such a loser? I don't understand, why am I so fucking stupid. I thought.

I did it. I did the fucking unthinkable. Although I didn't want to. I did. I got my pillow, blanket, and stuffed puppy dog. I got up out of bed. Opened the door, and then walked out over to Snitch's room. Fuck no. Fuck no. Trig don't do it, don't fucking do it. Don't look desperate please!

I walked over to him. "Snitch." I whispered. He was asleep, because he wasn't answering. I looked at him. Sound asleep, with this thumb in his mouth, the very trait I adored about him. Most people would be like 'what a fucking baby' but it was adorable. I slowly got in bed beside him and watched him sleep. I removed the hair from his face. His beautiful brown hair. God I sound like a fucking moron, please excuse me for sounding this way. I just don't know what else to say. I kissed his forehead and snuggled close to him. And fell asleep.

Finally at peace, the one thing I only find with him.

This one took for fucking ever to finish. I don't know why. I'm not happy with it. It sucks, but, of course, a perfectionist can't be happy with anything. Oh well, at least I finished it and it's tolerable, so yeah. It's all good.

50 Fucking Reviews! Dude! That's fucking awesome for only 8 chapters!!!!

Special thanks to:

C. M. Higgins

Rubix the Cube

Blue Boxer

Fantasy3

Splashey

...and everyone else because our electric keeps going out. :

Please review everyone and I'll give you something special. You'll have to find out in the next chappy! XD