AN – Yeah, yeah, I love these things. Okay, so here's the deal my lovely readers. First off, I know more than just Lauren is reading this, and I would be grateful if someone else would review, even if just to tell me things you think I could work on!
Secondly, I'm going to apologize in advance for what may end up being a delay in updates in the upcoming weeks. I just found out my mom has breast cancer, and I am extremely close to my mother. I was blessed with wonderful, kind, loving parents and my mom is the one I run to when life becomes too much so this is hitting me really hard. And one of two things will happen. Either I will be so distracted with being there for my mom and my son that the updates will be very slow coming and all but stop, or I will have such a severe need to distract myself that the updates will be coming like crazy….we'll see huh? Anyways thank yinz for your patience if the first and most likely option happens and anyone who prays please keep my mom in your prayers!
Enjoy this chapter….the next chapter will most likely jump a couple years in the future, yay! And I must thank DramaLo who's random "tweet" conversations about "Romantical Newsie Octagons", and "Bed O Funs", and the dividing up of newsies has helped keep a smile on my face these past few days, haha.
Chance sat with his back against the door to his room, unable and unwilling to sleep. He'd been keeping watch over the two young boys all night, and he'd already had to calm both boys back down a couple of times from nightmares. He watched the dawn begin to stream through the window, illuminating the two sleeping figures. Bathed in the soft light, they looked so young and innocent Chance could scarcely bring himself to believe Skittery was the same boy he walked in on committing murder the night before.
There was a soft knock on the door behind him and he stood up, opening it up.
"Didja sleep at all, Chance?" Lawrence asked, as Chance stepped into the hallway so as not to disturb the boys.
"Um, no. Dey's kept wakin' up an' stuff. Dey needed me," he shrugged.
Lawrence shook his head, but refrained from getting fatherly on Chance. "Well you's gonna send dem out ta sell taday or tell 'em ta stay 'ere?"
"I was jus' gonna 'ave 'im stay home taday. Can you's keep an eye on 'em?"
Lawrence shook his head. "I 'ave a better idea. You's stay 'ere wid 'em. Don't worry about tanight's lodgin' fee, from any a you's all right? I's gonna take care a some stuff taday, an' leave you's three da place ta yaselves."
Chance wanted to protest, but was too tired, so he just nodded, clapped Lawrence on the shoulder, and snuck back in the room. Skittery was thrashing on the bed, so Chance climbed in between the two boys, placing a reassuring arm around both of them, and whispering soothingly until he fell back into a fitful sleep. It didn't take long for the seductive lure of sleep to reel Chance in, and when Lawrence stopped by to tell him he was leaving he found them all peacefully asleep, cramped up together in the small bed.
Skittery shifted awake a couple hours later, blinking against the bright, invading sunlight that was pouring in the streaky window. He slowly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Chance or Spot, and padded his way to the washroom. He splashed the cold water on his face in an attempt to wake up, and dried his face on the towel. Straightening up he was hit with a wave of unexplainable nausea, and leaned over the sink, fighting back the sick feeling. Swallowing rapidly, he sunk down on the cold, tiled floor of the washroom, suddenly overwhelmed.
The events of the night before played in his head on repeat and he fought back the tears, reminding his self he was a man and men didn't cry. Anyway, it wasn't like he regretted his decision. And why should he? How else was he expected to keep Spot safe if their fathers were running loose around Brooklyn? He knew he hadn't thought the whole running away thing through very much and he certainly hadn't thought though anything else either. Ten years old was too young to be responsible for yourself and your seven year old cousin in his mind.
Chance woke up to find Spot curled up on his left hand side and an empty bed on his right hand side where Skittery should have been. Dazed, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and groaning at the ache in his back from sleeping in an awkward position. He looked around the room, confirming that Skittery wasn't in it, and with a sigh he swung his legs over the bed, standing and waiting for the brief moment of vertigo to pass. He looked all over, finally finding the young boy on the bathroom floor. His back was restng against the wall, and his knees were pulled to his chin. The look on his face was unreadable, an odd mixture of sadness, relief, anxiety, and a multitude of other emotions too advanced for his age.
Chance paused in the doorway, unsure as to whether to interrupt the boy's thoughts or leave him be. Eventually Chance went with his gut and strode in, taking a seat next to him on the floor. "How's it goin', kiddo?"
Skittery glared out him out of the corner of his eye. He despised being patronized. He may be young but he'd been through more in his short life than people five times his age and he knew it. He decided not to dignify Chance's pointless question with a response, and instead turned his head laying his cheek against the top of his knees and staring in the opposite direction of Chance.
"All right, I get it. You's don't wanna talk about it." Skittery didn't bother to correct his wrongful assumption, and Chance continued. "Well, you may not wanna talk ta me, and dat's fine I ain't gonna force ya. But when Spot wakes up, I hope you's know you's gonna hafta talk ta 'im," Chance informed him, patience worn thin due to a lack of sleep as he stood back up.
"I don't hafta listen ta you's" Skittery muttered from the floor.
Chance looked down at him as he lathered up his face and picked up the razor sitting precariously on the edge of the sink. "You's like stayin' 'ere dan yeah, ya do actually," He corrected the boy, dragging the blade across his skin, and shaking off the excess. "You's wanna pretend it didn't happen ta me, Sweet, Lawrence, yaself, anyone else, I don't really care. But you's made da decision, an you's can deal wid da consequences of talkin' ta Spot and explainin' it ta 'im." Chance returned the boy's look, and gave up halfway through his shave, throwing the razor back in the sink and stalking out of the washroom.
Skittery mimicked him to his back as he walked out, huffing and pouting and refusing to admit that Chance was right, even though he knew he was. He sat there griping to himself until he felt a presence enter the washroom. Warily he glanced over, and saw his cousin shifting nervously a few feet away. Inwardly he groaned but outwardly he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, standing up and motioning Spot to follow him over to an unused bunk.
He hemmed and hawed for a few moments, having no clue what to say.
Finally Spot broke the uncomfortable silence. "I like it 'ere. I don't wanna 'ave ta leave. I feel safe 'ere, an' I feel wanted 'ere, an' you's went and screwed all dat up!"
Skittery felt like he'd been punched in the gut and was at a loss for how to respond. He made a feeble half-hearted excuse which was met with an icy stare from Spot. Finally he decided to just be honest. With Spot and with himself. "I can't tell you's I's sorry cause I ain't. I wasn't t'inkin' t'ough, an' I's didn't mean ta scare you's."
"You's didn't scare me!" Spot responded a little too quickly.
Skittery nodded, knowing better than to fight him on the obvious lie. "We's okay?"
Spot shrugged, not giving him a real answer, and left the room before Skittery could push the issue. Skittery watched him leave, and flopped back on the bed. He was frustrated with himself, with Chance, with Spot and with life. It was all getting to be too much for him to handle, and he started searching the lodging house for Chance. He finally found him sitting on the fire escape, and he climbed out the window joining him.
Chance glanced over at him, and recognized the look of loneliness and pain shining out of his eyes. It tore him apart inside to see this city and this sad excuse for a life ruining someone so young. His previous anger and irritation was quickly forgotten as he pulled the boy close to his side in a vain attempt to wash away his fears and hurt.
Chance's own life hadn't been so great but he was naturally positive, and he'd never been through anything close to what he imagined the two young cousins must have gone through, and he'd certainly never had to deal with anything like what Skittery was trying to come to terms with now. He didn't know how to make it better how to put a smile back on the kid's face and that bothered him more deeply than he was able to comprehend.
So for now he did the only thing he could, and held the boy in his arms as the sobs wracked through his body when the reality of the situation finally came crashing down upon him.
AN – Sorry it was so short! And not quite up to the standards of the previous chapter (at least in my opinion.) I'll try to make the next chapter longer and better to make up for this one!