Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Empress of the World, or and other media references I may make.
Emperor of the World
June 17th, 8:30 pm, The River
The river moves very smoothly, I decide, watching the water slither effortlessly around the rocks. I waited for half an hour for someone, Racetrack most likely, to come chasing after me. But he didn't. I think my expectations are too high.
However, I can see Skittery. He is sitting a few feet away from me on the riverbank.
Skittery looks very different in the dark. More sullen and more moody and definitely more mature.
We haven't said anything to each other yet, and I don't want to be the first to talk. I am, admittedly, afraid that he will yell at me or, worse, ignore me.
Still, I dare not move away due to the simplicity that I really like being with him. Skittery is the only person I have met that I like to be around no matter what. He is also the only person I really care about getting mad at me. Most people I decide aren't worth it and give up. I can't give up in Skittery. He's so...
"Why did you say that?" he asks suddenly.
My head jerks up and turns to him. I don't answer because my tongue is pressed against the roof of my mouth and my throat is very dry.
"Why did you say that Jade likes me?" he asks, more slowly this time, as if I am remedial.
I blink. "I don't know. Because it's the truth."
Skittery groans and lies back against the hill. "Don't say that. It's not true."
"Why not?" I ask, and then realize it would be best if I had kept my mouth shut.
Too bad you can't retract words. Skittery answers me. "Because, I have no attraction towards her and it's driving me crazy."
I am sure my confusion shows on my face because he continues.
"In case you haven't noticed Dutchy, Jade is pretty...y'know, good looking. And she flirts with me. But I don't like her. I just don't like her."
I shrug and look upwards at the darkening sky, which is a rosy colour with cloudy purples. I think of the last time I was at the river here.
"Do you mind if I try something?" I ask Skittery, just as Racetrack had asked me.
Skittery opens his mouth to answer; I squeeze my eyes shut and plunge in.
Unlike Racetrack I feel very good. Something in my toes begins to tingle, like when your feet fall asleep, only better and lighter.
I open one eye and then the other. Skittery's shocking green ones stare back at me. I pull away.
We stare at each other for a minute, Skittery with a very thoughtful look on his face and me just wondering how long it would be until he launched a fist in my stomach.
He opens his mouth. "I...Dutchy...I..." He leans forward and kisses me again. The feeling in my feet travels. It reaches my knees so they grow weak, voyage to my torso where my stomach produces butterflies, and rests at my head, leaving it dizzy and confused.
Skittery draws away, looking slightly confused, and lies back down again, his chin pointed at the heavens.
I wipe my mouth and gaze back at the river. Once again I dare not speak.
June 18th, 7:30 am, Specs's and My Room
Specs is sleeping when I am dressed and ready to go. He is snoring softly and tangled up in many blue and white sheets.
I watch him for a while, though not really seeing him. I keep seeing Skittery's very green eyes, staring at me with confusion after he kissed me.
Specs rolls over and grunts loudly. I look at my watch, which tells me there are five minutes until breakfast. I throw a book at Specs.
He sits up extremely quickly and blinks around the brightened room. "What's going on?" he shouts, his voice slightly slurred.
"Get up Specs, and for God's sake, change out of those pants," I say, walking to the door and opening it.
He looks around, sees me, and sniffs loudly.
"Are you drunk?" I ask, stepping out.
He nods happily and falls out of bed. I close the door behind me.
Jack is sitting in the hall, clutching a pack of cigarettes in his hands, and staring at it longingly.
"What's up?" I ask, standing before him.
He sighs melodramatically and stands up. "Just a bit hung over, that's all," he tells me.
I'm sure I look confused, because he takes one look at me and continues.
"Specs, Race and I stayed up most of the night in the courtyard, drinking whisky and rice wine."
"Where'd you get rice wine?" I ask.
"Race had it," says Jack, nonchalantly. "Then a CIT caught us and gave us a warning."
"Oh," I say.
We enter the cafeteria and Jack squints as the bright light meets his eyes.
Jack clears his throat a few times. "Listen," he says awkwardly. "Race is really sorry about jumping on the boat and telling Skittery about that, but you shouldn't go around saying my sister likes a guy when she's got a boyfriend who is one of my good friends."
I want to justify myself and tell him she really does like Skittery, but he's not mad at me and Racetrack has as good as apologized, so I just nod and shrug.
"Yeah, no problem. Sorry about that."
And we get in line for waffles.
June 18th, 7:30 pm, The River
I am once again at the river. I like it. It is very calm and relaxing. Now, however, I am not lying on my back, but my stomach, with my eyes shut and my forehead pressed against the grassy hillside.
A familiar crunching sound comes from the top and in seconds someone sits down beside me. I glance sideways and see Skittery's shoes and his hand, with its long fingers and very short, clean nails resting on the ground.
"Hi," I mutter.
"Hi," he says, and then, "I brought some rum. Racetrack gave it to me."
I want to make a joke about Race being a drunk, but it seems too tense right now to be saying things like that.
I can hear Skittery cracking open the bottle and its contents swishing around inside.
"Want some?" he asks.
I sit up and sit cross-legged, facing Skittery. I take the bottle from his hangs and pour some back. It is smooth and bitter all at the same time. I drink some more.
So does Skittery.
I am beginning to feel slightly giddy and looser. Skittery leans over and rests his head on my shoulder.
"Skittery?" I ask quietly, afraid that if I speak too loud someone will hear, even though there is no one here but us. "Are you gay?"
He mumbles something and kisses me. It is wet and tastes like rum, but I don't mind because it is Skittery.
He puts his head in my lap next, looking upwards at the setting sun, his eyes moving across the horizon slowly.
I wrap one of my fingers in his blondish brown curls and look up too.
We sit like this for quite a while because when I look down at my watch it is already ten to nine. Skittery's eyes have closed and he is breathing evenly. I'm afraid he has fallen asleep like this.
I push a curl off of his brow and smile. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me.
"Dutchy, I..." he trails off and stares up at me.
To the left of the river there is a large patch of trees, which are thick and wild. He stares at them for a while and I don't move. I just stare into the water and allow it to hypnotize me.
Suddenly, Skittery is kissing me again, at first I am surprised so my eyes are open, and I can see his eyelids glistening with sweat. Then I close them and he takes my hand. We stumble around for a while, kissing frantically, before I feel my feet give away and I fall, on my back, into a tangle of branches.
Between the trees is a clearing. It is very fairy tale like, with maple and oak leaves on the ground and an opening on the top. Skittery is drinking out of the bottle, which I realize he hasn't let go of since he came down hours ago.
He begins to take off his shirt.
And I freeze up.
He looks at me. I look at him. Then my eyes travel to the discarded bottle on the forest floor.
"Skittery, don't do this," I say quietly, not believing I actually am.
He is breathless and half-naked. "Do what?" he asks.
I swallow and look away from where my eyes are glued to his chest. "Don't do this. You're drunk."
He laughs and advances towards me. "I'm not drunk Dutchy, I know what I'm doing. Come on, you want this, right?"
Meekly, I nod. I do what this, but not this way. I don't want him to be drunk. I want him to mean it and to want it too. I tell him that.
He pays no heed and grabs my shirt collar, pulling my head towards his, and planting another kiss on my lips. Although I am against this, my hands are drawn to his bare back, working their way up his soft, warm skin.
He tugs at my shirt. I back away and stumble into the outstretched branches of the trees.
"Skittery," I say breathlessly. "I'm sorry, I can't."
I turn and run back to my room. When I get there I throw myself face-down on my bed and cry. Specs is already asleep, so no one hears me.
End Chapter
I hope that wasn't too bad. What I meant to portray was Dutchy's romantic inner-self and his distress over Skittery. I hope this didn't make Skittery come off as a bad guy, because that's not what I intended. I meant to make him confuse, like Dutchy. Please review.
Shoutouts:
Erin Go Bragh—what instrument do you play? I play(ed) the flute and (try to) play the guitar. If my muses played instruments, Peter would play the flute, Charlie would play the trumpet, Itey would play the oboe, Spitzer would play the trombone, Michael would play the baritone and Tom would play the tuba.
Charlie!Muse: this reminds me somewhat of a drum and fife choir. Only we're worse. And there are no drums.
Spitzer!Muse: (plays weak rendition of 'Don't Rain on my Parade') I love the...this thing.
Peter!Muse: its called a gold thing. Gold is worth lots!
Me: um...I don't think my muses should ever play instruments. Bad things would happen.
Madison Square—I just think of it as 'poor boys'. They just can't get anything right. Not in this chapter either, when things were a little messed up.
Nakaia Aidan-Sun—I'm not sure this is supposed to make people laugh. Hmm...Romance/Angst. Oh well, Angst always makes me laugh. Angsty, angsty Dutchy.