Disclaimer: I do not own "Newsies" or any of the genius associated to them. Disney owns them, no infringement intended. I am not making money from this in any way, I claim no rights to the characters mentioned from the movie, but I do claim the plot and the ideas surrounding this story. Don't steal, don't sue, and I'm sure we will all be grand friends.
A/N: So basically I am addicted to the music of Jason Robert Brown right now - and "The Scarlet Pimpernel". Musical theatre kick. Go figure.
Warning: PG-13 (language, drugs, adult situations)
Chapter 8
viii.)
tonight he glows in mile thick mystique
his licorice tongue
has nasty habits
b r e a k it up to b r e a k it down
she
starting to hate his cheap cigarettes & day old gin &&
(but
not) him
moving out(on) is(n't) an option
Tonight he's going out, but he isn't going alone. Girl Explicit doesn't tell him her plan – she just wants to see what he does when he thinks she isn't watching. She's seen him at it before and she's never grown tired of seeing the games he plays (though she has grown sick to her stomach at the sight of them). She doesn't always follow him, but she picks tonight to do so because he's pulled out all the stops. He's wearing the same black glitter smile she remembers from the first time she saw him (though it doesn't quite sparkle as brightly as she recalls) and has rimmed the rocky shores of his eyes to hide the corrosion(the Atlantic is shallow tonight).
This is, however, how he looks whenever he is ready to leave a mark – or several: a calculated blend of sex, disinterest, and scandal. In the right light he looked like a little boy playing dress up. However, the light in the bar to where she followed him to gave no such effect. It made him ooze self-indulgence & sensuality like smoke from his pores as much as he always bled chaos and confidence (as fake as it was). Chaos never came in a prettier package than Boy Anachronism.
She watches from a corner booth, dark as pitch, and wonders if he ever knows that she watches him like this (and if it even matters to him). The bracelets and sweat bands he wears up to his elbows don't hide all of his scars. She's memorized that skin so she knows (her pride twitches when she remembers that others know that skin as well as she does). Looking at the skin-and-bones sirens passing her she wondered how many of them have witnessed all of Boy Anachronism's charms (scars).
There is a scar in his smile, though, that she knows better than any of the others. Left there by time and too many one night stands – no amount of black glitter chap-stick can hide it from her. His lying lips curl on the dance floor and that white crescent winks the scar in her direction (does he know she's there?). No one else can see that as well as she.
Half of his hair is white blonde a la Cruella De Vil (they'd watched 101 Dalmatians on their bootleg cable last night and he'd been inspired) and glows in a frenzied mass under the same blacks lights where she'd first seen him. The ethereal glow almost angelic as he moved to the thrumming bass (it was his own half-assed halo). The beat rocks through her whole body and recalibrates her heartbeat to a frantic pace. She knows that hers must match his now.
Shredded denim clad hips (riding dangerously low) rock to the beat in wanton invitation. He is begging for someone to come and save him in the sea of writhing humanity. Inside he knows that dancing leads to sex as much as sex leads to dancing. You have to want them both to make them happen (he'll make them happen). As much as he loves sweat and blood on the dance floor – they just aren't as good as they are in the bedroom. He lusts them – because they are his essence.
A hard breath, a whispered caress – he presses himself against the girls. There is no room for softness with him. He wants to hurt. That is where he finds the hate which he thinks keeps him going (he'd be surprised if he knew what his real driving force is).
A few more shots, a few more touches, and she grows tired of watching him destroy himself. Grasping those undulating hips she identifies herself with a kiss. He knows her taste even if he is too drunk to see straight.
"Let's go." She speaks into his smoky hair over the trance music.
"Why don't you ever leave?" He smiles hysterically(knowing inside that he can count the days before she's gone). "When are you going to fade?" Manic laughter (he's breaking in half).
She doesn't bother answering because he's too drunk to understand what she would like to say. He's spouting poetry and babbling off words incoherently (he's trying to warn her against him, but it is too late for words like that). In the haze of it all she hears "I need the Tin Man's heart". With an arm around her shoulder and a hand around her heart – they stagger back to their apartment.
Before he drifts off to sleep he looks up and sees her stroking his colorful hair back from his forehead. There are stars dancing around her head and for a moment he appreciates her (he's too far gone to remember that he's supposed to hate her). He doesn't know why she is there because everything in his mind has told him that she should be gone by now.
"Are you home?" he mutters non-sensically, not understanding the implication of his words.
"Yes. I am home." She doesn't hide the sadness in her voice at the admittance.
He gives her his best scared smile before his body goes slack and she is left watching him breathing.
He's too shattered and scattered to clean up after much longer, but her broken pieces are too mixed among his now to be able to pick them all out. They'd fallen apart together too many times to tell the difference between where he started and she began. One could not fade without the other.
And she's learning that the hard way.
A/N: Thank you to stress, Purple Rhapsody, and midnight1899 for reviewing!
Only three reviews though you guys? Seriously. I guess I am just scaring people off with dark!Spot.
In other news: I saw Pirates of the Caribbean II yesterday, and it was one of the worst movies I've ever seen.
Johnny Depp, however, was ridiculously good looking and just seeing his face made my life a better place.