#-but they're stuck there together an' instead of lettin' it get to them all they choose to defy their situation by embracin' eachother | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefactsofthematter · 5 years

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4. It’s not fair+ 5. Why did you have to go Sprace please. I love your writing!

hey y’all i’m back from my trip to Writer’s Block Hell!! i haven’t been able to write anything lately but here’s my best attempt to get back into it!! it’s angsty as fuck!!

sprace; 1.4k; race went to the refuge instead of crutchie au; warning for discussion of abuse + death, but nothing is actually described in detail

4. It's not fair.

5. Why did you have to go?

"Everyone thought you were dead, y'know."

Race's head snaps up to look at Spot.

He looks so different from the proud, fearless king of Brooklyn that everyone knows. He's illuminated by only a faraway streetlight, and the way the shadows are falling makes him look smaller than usual. There's something about his face— it's a stark contrast to his usual menacing, angry expression. He just looks... sad.

The silence had been tense and overwhelming until now. They're standing outside, in the alley behind the Manhattan lodging house, a mere foot or two of space between them. Inside, newsies from every borough are celebrating together: sharing food and drinks and laughter while bonding over their shared contempt for Joseph Pulitzer and their pride that they'd done it— they'd won.

For some reason, Race still feels like he's the one who lost.

He takes another drag of his cigar and then picks at some of the grime under his fingernails. There's colourful bruises encircling his wrists, from straining against cold metal handcuffs, and the pinky of his left hand is swollen and purplish— he figures it's probably broken.

"Surprise," he says, with a bitter laugh. He's dealing with the tornado of emotions in his head the only way he knows how— just laughing it all off. "You can't get rid of me that easy. Snyder probably made that shit up to scare you guys— he had me locked up in the basement to make sure no one found me. I’m lucky anyone bothered to come check when they was lettin’ kids out today, or I’d still be stuck there." He chuckles again, because finding the humour in this is the only thing he can do at this point. "Imagine that: the whole damn Refuge is empty, and I’m still stuck in the basement, rottin’ away, not knowin’ what the hell is going on. Of course that’d happen to my dumb ass."

Race expects Spot to laugh too, maybe punch him gently on the arm and tell him to stop being an idiot. Instead, Spot remains serious and sad as he steps a little closer to Race.

"It's not funny, Racer. Don’t even joke about that. I thought I lost you," he says, softly, his voice laced with heartbreak. This is very, very different from his normal self and it's throwing Race off a little. "I... I really thought you were gone for good. Me and Jack, we thought we were gonna have to plan your funeral."

Race finds it a little harder to laugh at that one. He hadn't thought Snyder was being serious, when he'd threatened again and again to kill him, or when he'd said that all Race's friends were convinced he was already dead. He'd thought it was a scare tactic, meant to intimidate him into sharing information about the strike. Not the other way around, meant to scare the rest of them into ending the fight.

He sighs deeply and rubs the burning end of his cigar against a brick on the wall to snuff it out.

"It's fucked up, huh?" He's quiet for a moment, and then shakes his head sadly. "All of this, I mean. It's not fair. I told myself I was done with the Refuge for good. I was never gonna let Snyder get his filthy hands on me again." He almost laughs again, but thinks better of it, knowing it would only upset Spot. "Funny how that worked out."

Spot steps closer yet again, narrowing the space between them to merely a few inches. He reaches out to carefully touch Race's arm, and Race flinches a little at the contact, despite knowing damn well that Spot would never hurt him. It’s crazy how quickly a stay in the Refuge can get into his head, making him all skittish and terrified, even of the people he trusts. It’s like he’s expecting every touch to be painful, even when Spot’s being gentle like this.

"I was so scared, Tonio," whispers Spot. If Race didn't know any better, he'd swear there might be tears welling up in Spot's eyes. "Just... I don’t understand. Why did you have to go and get yourself caught? You can outrun the bulls any day of the week— what made this time different? How the hell did they catch you?"

Race is quiet for a moment. He swallows thickly and can’t convince himself to look Spot in the eyes.

“They almost had Crutchie,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was runnin’ away, I was already far enough to be safe, but I saw the Delanceys grab him and… what kinda friend would I be if I let him get dragged off? I couldn’t do that, Spot. You know I couldn’t.”

It takes Spot a while to respond, and Race almost thinks he might be angry. Maybe he’s upset that he put himself in danger, maybe he’s mad that it was practically Race’s own damn fault that he’d gotten himself arrested. He’s probably gonna call Race an idiot, he’s probably gonna get so mad, and he’s probably gonna beat the hell out of Race, just like the guards of the Refuge have been doing for the past two weeks.

The longer Spot is quiet, the more Race’s mind starts to spiral into pure, chaotic panic.

“I’m sorry,” Race practically gasps, when the silence drags on a little too long for him to bear. “Please don’t be mad. I’m so sorry— I had to. I couldn’t let ‘em take Crutchie. He’s a tough kid, I know he is, but he couldn’t…” He trails off and shuts his eyes, trying his hardest not to cry. Unfortunately, the tears start flowing as soon as he reopens them. “They’re mean in there, Spotty. It ain’t— It ain’t no place for a nice kid like Crutchie. I couldn’t let him go, you gotta understand. Please don’t get mad, Spot, please."

Race doesn’t mean to let out the little sob that follows, but it happens, and he immediately hides his face with his hands. He’s not really the vulnerable type, and he’s not sure of the last time he’d cried in front of anyone.

Spot, to Race’s surprise, doesn’t start yelling at him or hitting him. His touch doesn’t turn tight and painful, he just carefully moves his hands to push Race’s own away and gently cup his face.

“Hey… Racer. Listen— I’m not mad. I couldn’t ever be mad at you.” Slowly, Race allows himself to meet Spot’s eyes. There’s not even a hint of anger there, just a glimmer of unshed tears. “You’re so fucking brave, Tony. I’m so proud of you— most folks would never even think to do somethin’ like that. You’re incredible.”

He trails off, but doesn’t let go of Race’s face. He just stays there, staring at him for a moment. Race can’t seem to stop crying, and Spot looks like he’s about to start, but it’s somehow still a really, really nice moment. As tragic as this is, it’s kind of beautiful, in a way.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” whispers Spot, as he carefully wipes a tear off of Race’s cheek. “I don’t think I realized it until I almost lost you, but god, I love you so much. You don’t gotta say it back if you don’t wanna, but I have to tell you. I’m fucking in love with everything about you, Race.”

There's a very long pause as Spot's words sink in. He loves Race. They love each other. Holy shit, they're in love.

It's not like Race hadn't felt that before now, but he'd never been able to pin a word on the longing and the adoration that he feels for him. When he was locked up, the first person he worried about was Spot. The first person he decided he'd really miss if he did die in there was Spot. The only person he wanted to see was Spot.

Maybe that’s what being in love feels like.

"I love you too," whispers Race, laughing softly through his tears. "Fuck, I love you, Spot. I really do."

He has to lean over a little so they can connect their lips, but he doesn’t really mind it. Maybe once he’s a little stronger, not so malnourished from two weeks in the Refuge, he’ll be able to lift Spot up enough to kiss him properly.

He’s really, really glad he made it out of that place, and back to the boy who has his whole heart.

#if you wanted to be on my tag list but i missed you just shoot me a message!!#my writing #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #newsies fanfiction #idk how to tag fics yall

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