TW: mentions of death and severe injury, mild cussing
Fires, Scars and Kisses (Romeo/OC)
Heat and light. That was all Diana could see. Her first immediate thought was 'Fire!'.
She jumped up out of bed to feel searing pain in her foot. The entire floor and the walls were on fire, the flames blazing three times taller than her.
"Mama! Papa!" she coughed, the smoke filling her lungs. Diana's only concern was trying to get out of the fire and finding her parents. Covering her mouth with her dress, she ran out of her room despite the heavy smoke and blazing infernos.
She tumbled down the stairs, which were burned to ashes and crumbled under her feet. Pain seared all across her arms and legs as she pushed past flaming pieces of timber.
The moment she stepped out of the house was a gasp of fresh air, literally. Diana dropped to her hands and knees, coughing and gasping for oxygen. She could see people in white uniforms rushing to her aid with bandages and ice packs, but one thing she couldn't see was her mother and father.
As she was lifted onto a stretcher, all she could ask was, "Where's my mama? And my papa?" A lady's voice said gently, "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, but your parents haven't been found. It's possible they died in the fire."
Diana could feel tears coming to her eyes as the realisation crept up on her. "No! There's no way! No!"
"Gah!" Scars gasped, waking up in a cold sweat. She had had the same flashback for the fifth time in the past three weeks, but she hadn't told anyone what it was even about.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Scars grumbled, running her hand through her thick black curls. She looked down at her arms and sure enough, they were still there.
Large, coarse burn scars ran up and down her arms, as well as on her legs. They were a haunting souvenir, not that she liked to call them that, of the fire that had taken her parents' lives when she was eight. Now at the age of fifteen and having been a newsie for almost six years, the memories of that dreadful night still lingered.
Scars looked around to find that no one had heard her wake up. With a sigh, she decided to go up to the roof to try and calm down before going back to sleep. She quietly threw the covers off, slipped on her work boots that were two sizes too small, put on her faded blue shirt and quietly left the bedroom, careful to not wake any of the others.
She buttoned her shirt as she walked down the hallway to the fire escape. The rooftop was viewed by all of the newsies as a safe haven for when they had nightmares about their pasts. After Jack left to start a life with Katherine, it had become a tradition for any future leaders to claim the rooftop as their own.
Scars pushed the door open, ignoring the loud creak it made. She was far enough away from everyone else to not worry about waking them up. The metal stairs vibrated with her footsteps as she approached the ladder. Cool fresh air filled her lungs as she climbed up the ladder to the rooftop, but she stopped in her tracks just before she pulled herself up onto the roof.
Romeo, the current leader of Manhattan, sat on the roof, legs dangling over the edge between the bars of the rail. A cigar was between his fingers, most likely a Corona gifted to him by Racetrack, the previous leader. His hat was backwards on his head, and a silver key on a worn-out string was hanging from his belt loop.
She quickly decided that going to the roof was a bad idea. She tried to climb back down the ladder only for the metal to creak deafeningly.
"Hello?" the older boy called out. "Who's there?"
Scars froze in her spot and contemplated her decision. She could either go back to the bedroom and leave Romeo confused or talk to him and let everything that she was hiding out.
She decided that considering she was already at the roof, responding to him was her best option. She responded as she climbed back up the ladder and pulled herself onto the roof, "Hey, Lover Boy."
The dark-haired boy smiled and beckoned for her to come closer. Scars smiled and sat down next to him, almost recoiling at the stench of the cigar smoke.
"Why are you up here, Scarsie?" Romeo asked, taking a puff of the cigar.
"Nightmare." She responded, looking out at the New York skyline. "Okay, not really a nightmare. More a… memory, I guess."
"About?" the older boy questioned.
Scars hesitated. She hadn't told anyone the truth about the scars that covered her body. Heck, most of it she didn't really remember. But lying was something that she didn't do often, and her biggest lie was about how she got her scars.
"Well, remember how I told you that I got my scars in the orphanage I was in when a pot of boiling water tipped over onto me?" Scars asked. That was the lie she had told anyone who asked about her scars.
"Yeah? What about that?" Romeo asked, putting out what was left of the cigar and tossing it over the railing. "Is that not true?"
Scars nodded. "It was a lie. To tell the truth, I got these scars in a house fire. I was eight."
Romeo's jaw dropped. "A fire? Holy shit!"
"Yeah. I woke up in the middle of the night to find the house in flames. I ran out of the house to find my parents only to find out that they had burned to death. I only learned in the morning that I had the scars all over me. The doctors said that it would have taken a miracle for me to survive the fire."
Scars almost whispered the last few words, her lip trembling and tears pricking her eyes. Barely a second went by before she burst out sobbing. Romeo was now the first person who knew the truth about her scars.
Unbeknownst to her, Romeo had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. He had never known how the scars on her arms and legs had even gotten there, but now he knew. This also explained her frequent nightmares. Having to remember an event like that had to be horrific.
"It's okay, Scarsie. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you." He whispered to her, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to comfort her. Slowly, her sobs became sniffles, which then became heavy breathing, which turned into silence.
Romeo looked down to see that Scars had fallen asleep in his arms. With a small smile, he put her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift then, slowly and carefully, made his way down the ladder.
In the few minutes that it took to get back inside the Lodge, Romeo realized how at peace the girl was when she was asleep. Sure, she had just had a nightmare, but when Scars was sleeping she seemed to be so peaceful.
He entered the girls' bedroom as quietly as possible and set Scars down on her bed. Her dark curls pooled over the pillow under her head like an inky river, and her oversized shirt engulfed her small frame.
Indubitably, Romeo had flirted with loads of girls on the streets, whether he was selling or not, but he had always had feelings for Scars. Whenever she grumbled about her scars, he always told her that they just told her story, showed who she was as a person. She took it as reassurance, but it was really Romeo's way of telling her 'I love you'. He just prayed that she would reciprocate one day.
Wanting to ensure her safety for the rest of the night, Romeo climbed over her and slumped down on the bed. He watched her breathe for a few minutes, then, before he fell asleep himself, peppered kisses over her left arm down the largest scar present, planted a final kiss on her forehead and whispered, "You are my Juliet."
But as he drifted off into the dark world of sleep, Scars' eyes flickered open for a few moments. And, in the darkness of the bedroom, she kissed him gently on the lips and whispered back, "And you're my Romeo, Lover Boy."
