#but every newsies socks fit them so well like ?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justrednow · 4 years

Text

A little Winter Fever

warnings: Severe illness, financial insecurity, hospitals, death, minimal editing, swearing, extreme cold, my crappy OCs

word count: 2393

Characters: Smalls. (OC’s->) literally everyone else except Roger I guess

Description: The Bronx newsies are hit hard by winter. Not only can they barely make enough to eat, they find temperatures are rising but not outside. (Sorry for anyone who needs to scroll, I don’t know how to make read more) _____________________________________________________________

Smalls stared at her bag still filled with 20 papers. She looked up to the street, snow danced in the lights from the lamps. It felt like her cheeks were being cut from the blizzard winds. She dropped the 21st paper back into the bag and shoved her ungloved hands into her pockets. The wind grabbed her skin through the thin shirt she had on. It was too early in the day to call it quits on selling, but her feet were numb. Her boots were wrecked, they were new too. she could feel the water seeping into them. She moved into the stoop of a store, to get out of the wind.

She jumped as a man pushed on the door behind her. Smalls quickly moved out of the way as he walked past her. “Care to buy a paper, sir?” She asked desperately. To her delight, the man turned to look at her, almost studied her bright red cheeks. To her dismay, he huffed and scurried out into the winter winds. “Maybe next time,” she whispered to herself.

The day dragged on like that. Hiding and begging for people to buy from her. She didn’t break even on the day like she had hoped. Not even close. She pressed 3 coins in her pocket and trudged back home. She was shivering, her lips were blue and chapped.

Finally arriving at The Bronx lodge, she shook the snow from her hair, tossing the sack of papers to the side. The slightly warmer air welcomed her with the hushed chatter coming from the other room. Smalls glanced at the attendant, lowered her head and kept walking. She owed money for her stay, 14 cents that she didn’t have. She spent it on food for the younger ones. Probably the only reason they hadn’t kicked her onto the streets yet. She traveled into the rec room as it was called. Young newsies ran, oblivious to the winter cold.

Spaniel looked up from her reading, a newspaper that hadn’t been sold. “Someone’s home late.” Her low voice chirped, alerting BlueJay.

Smalls shrugged it off, “it was a rough day.” Spaniel returned her dark eyes to the page. “As you already know, I’m sure.”

“Sure,” the girl murmured. “Didn’t see you at circulation this morning, how much did you take?”

“Only 25,” Smalls plopped herself down next to BlueJay who was sewing away at a loose button. “You?” She nudged him, having expected him to make more of a fuss about her.

“15, I’m not foolish,” he didn’t even look up from his work. “Spaniel didn’t leave today.”

“I did too!” Smalls heard the sound of a paper crinkling as she focused on the frost on the window glass. “But,” the girl stood up as a little newsie tripped over her outstretched leg, “I knew I wouldn’t sell nothing.” the little one, Frog, started coughing. “Carajo! Cover, child!” She stepped away, pulling her shawl closer to her. Frog shrugged and continued playing with the others. “What kept you really? Damn Brooklyn kid’s not dumb enough to walk up here, is he?”

“Someone’s nosy,” Jay chuckled, “it's not like she’s the last one back.”

“She might well be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Smalls sat up a bit more than she had been. “Everyone else is still out there, they’re coming back.”

“No one told you what the paper was?” Spaniel frowned. Smalls hadn’t thought to ask, the week had been so quiet and slow. “Scarlet Fever, all over Manhattan. They go down there, they’re good as gone.”

“No one is dumb enough to go to Manhattan in this weather,” Smalls assured her friend. “If they are...”

Jay nervously pulled at his sleeves. He had made it to Queens, to see his grandmother. Crazy old lady. “Only Manhattan?” He asked. He prayed it wouldn’t reach here. They’d all be dead.

“Right now, yeah. Hospitals are packed, you can’t see a doctor.”

“Speaking of,” Smalls interrupted, “Doc isn’t back. He’s typically here before you.” She shifted uneasily. She never liked talking about illness, it reminded her of...

Spaniel shook her head, curly black hair bouncing unaffected by the winter. “He’s upstairs, resting.”

“Tom?” Smalls frowned.

“He was here, now he’s not.”

Smalls opened her mouth to list off another name but Jay cut her off. “They’re fine, don’t let hyperbole get you upset.” He had already convinced himself not to be worried about this. “Besides someone having a little fever isn’t going to prevent them from coming back to the lodge.” he rested a hand on her shoulder for comfort. “Hypothermia will.”

“Why.” Smalls turned slowly, “why would you say that?”

“He’s an ass,” Roger walked into the room, stomping snow off of his boots and throwing himself down into a chair. “He’s right though, heard they found a kid from Harlem stuck in the snow. Said his skin was ice.” Roger took a breath as he brushed the water drops from his hair. “Wasn’t dead though. Don’t know how long before he did kick it.”

“Again,” Spaniel sighed and closed the door of the room, “ain’t no one dumb enough to stand out in that cold for that long.”

There was a moment of silence around the group. They were dumb enough, if not dumb they were desperate enough. Each thought about how many times they had refused to go back no matter how damn cold they were. The inside of their mouth could have been covered in ice from yelling and nothing would have changed.

More importantly, Roger’s mind wandered to Knot. The kid was 14 and refused to follow him back to the lodge. Roger had given up and left him alone in the cold. That was the wrong call. It took a week to find him, froze to death in an alley next to an apartment building. Roger took the blame, every time it came up. Not that it came up often. But it was hard for him not to when he thought about everything he could have done differently. It was hard not to think about it when the little ones set out on their own and Roger imagined finding their little bodies curled up around a coat they stole.

“Roger,” Smalls repeated for the third time. This time he came too. “Jay’s going to run and get food, want anything?”

Roger wiped under his eyes. They burned but no tears had fallen. “Yeah, whatever they have. I’ll pay you back,” he promised.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jay was already heading out before Roger could protest the idea. Roger glanced at the clock, he became aware of its ticking. “it’s already 6?”

Spaniel looked up at the clock and shrugged. “Guess so.” She began to pick up clutter around the room, shooing the little newsies off to wash up. She tossed the paper into the fireplace, taking a moment to watch it smoke and crumple. After the few books in the whole building had been put back into their basket Spaniel found her way back to her chair.

“I’m gonna go find Tom,” Roger excused himself as the conversation was over.

Smalls chuffed in amusement, “looking for a fight?”

“You know it,” he sighed before ducking out of the room. Smalls watched him go before she began to pull off her boots. Her socks were still wet. She made a noise. She pulled them off and laid them over the fire. Her bare feet were still cold but the carpet felt good, almost soft.

“What are we going to do with him,” Spaniel sighed with a smile as she traced her nail across the frosted window.

“Tom?” Smalls raised an eyebrow as she glanced out into the entrance of the building, “or Roger?”

“Both will get themselves killed,” Spaniel chuckled.

_____________________________

Within the next 2 weeks, seven were sick. Five were little ones: Frog, Jani, Louis, Hop, and Slingshot. The other two were Spaniel and Roger. They were all kept in the sick room. The healthy children started calling it the death room, Smalls almost hit them. Yet they weren’t wrong. They had nothing to reduce fevers, all used up. The only medicine for the illness was in hospitals. No adult was rushing to pay that bill. No newsie had the money.

Instead, they went about their lives. It was never of their minds, though. Who was next to become ill, who would die first? What could be done?

Smalls got back earlier and earlier, she couldn’t stand to be away. She sat in a little wooden chair by the door, listening to the coughing and children crying. She wanted it to be her, just to save one of them.

Jay returned for her when he could. But his own problems arose in Queens. He brought her a chunk of bread from his Grandmothers. “What did she say?” Smalls disregarded the offering.

“She doesn’t like Orphans, Smalls,” Jay let out a long sigh. “Especially street kids.”

Smalls stood up, she was ready to snap. “You’re a street orphan! But we all know that if it was you in that room you’d have a doctor living in the same room as you!” she shouted. “It isn’t fair! She can help them, you know she can!”

“I know...” Jay didn’t need a reminder of anything. “What do you expect me to do that I haven’t already done.” His grandmother was as stubborn as she was rich. “We’d have better luck begging at the doors of a hospital.” Smalls turned to him. “Which we are not going to do because it’s probably a crime in some way.”

“What other option do we have, watch them die?” Smalls spoke again. He turned away. “They are dying, Jay! You can’t ignore that, it’s not going to go away.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be saying to you right now,” Jay shook his head and pushed the door with his foot, looking into the dark room. Spaniel caught his eye right away. Her usually rosy brown skin was now all rose. She was sweating and shivering. but she managed a smile and a wave to them before throwing herself into a fit of coughing. “Alright, let’s go.”

Smalls pulled the door shut and they headed out. She felt the tear in her boot become soaked with water, but it didn’t matter. She followed close behind Jay as the wind whistled in her ears. Around halfway there she began to think about what would happen if this didn’t work. What were they asking of these doctors? These doctors with other patients who are paying and more important that grungy street orphans. Smalls hugged herself tight as she thought about the five in the room, she coughed instead of crying. Jay spun around.

“I’m fine, we’re almost there, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and slowed down so that they would be walking side by side.

Before long they were there, walking in and moving around the rush. Smalls stared, she didn’t realize how many people there could be. She averted her eyes when she saw a mother holding a newborn with an awful rash. She then turned to an older man and his wife, both nervous looking. Jay pulled her by the arm to the front administration desk.

“We need to talk to a doctor!” Jay demanded.

The lady at the front desk nodded, “yes, I could have assumed that. Are you visiting a patient or admitting?”

Smalls looked to Jay desperately. The answer was neither. They didn’t have a plan, they didn’t bother to make one. “Visiting our younger sister, we are very worried about her.” The lady looked between the two of them, they didn’t look alike. “Last name?”

Jay paled a bit but continued to speak. “Smith.”

She pulled out a book and shuffled some papers. “First name?”

“Mine?” Jay stammered, “or hers?”

“The name of the patient, and if needed the disease they have.” Smalls flinched as she listened, around her people were chattering and coughing and sneezing. It was loud and she was scared.

“Elizabeth, scarlet fever,” Jay answered. 1 out of 100 lies is true. Smalls nodded along. “May we see her doctor please?”

“‘Fraid that’s the only person you can talk to...” The lady tapped on the desk. “She died this morning.” Smalls chocked and Jay bit down on his lip. he imagined the newsies, dead. “Wait down the hall, the doctor will be with you.”

Smalls, in her turn, grabbed Jay by his coat sleeve and lead him down the hall. “Dead.” She echoed.

__________________________

“Alright, I‘m confused...” Dr. Ellsen stared at the two. “You lied to come and talk to a doctor about curing a disease?”

“We just need the medicine, we can take it from there,” Smalls explained. The doctor rubbed his face laughing in dark ironic humor. Smalls looked at Jay who had leaned forward to see what the laughter was about.

The doctor stood up and looked at the pair. “You don’t get it, do you?” He sighed, “there is no cure for Scarlet Fever. If there was do you think half of our wards would be full of crying toddlers right now?” The two said nothing. “You’re brave to come here, but there is nothing to be done.” Jay opened his mouth to say something. “Free advice, you best take it. Keep that door shut and locked. They’ll be dead soon enough. Especially considering how weak you two look, can’t imagine it’ll take long.”

“Your pessimism is much appreciated,” Jay retaliated.

“Try being an optimist after telling a new mother her baby died,” he ushered them to the door. “I’m sorry. No need to waste the money you have here.”

____________________________

By the time they got back to the lodge, they found out that two more had been brought into the sick room. Spaniel somehow looked worse. Smalls entered the room, despite her better judgment.

She sat down on the edge of the bed that Hop was laying in. The child had curled around the thin knit blanket he had been given. Smalls brushed a hand over his sweating forehead. She realized how still he was and gave his cold body a nudge.

Panic swelled inside her as she jumped to her feet, shaking him harder. She looked for any sign of life. “Hop!” she shouted at him, alerting the others in the room. “Hop?” Her voice grew more and more desperate for the six-year-old to wake up. But he stayed in his endless sleep. Within the week half of those in the room would join him.

There is no cure.

#Newsies #angst #Smalls #Scarlet Fever #newsies angst #fanfic

8 notes · View notes

gingers-writing-blog · 4 years

Text

New York Bound

Chapter 1

The story starts in April 1899.

Triggers: Mild Swearing, One Punch, Mention of Blood

New Words: /

Word Count: 2,819

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on guys! Wake up and get a move on! Those papers ain't gonna sell themselves!" I shout over the noise of the busy London streets below. It's only half-past seven but some people, like the blacksmiths, maids and landlords, have been up for at least an hour; and these lazy newsies are still asleep! It had been rainin' last night, so there were some puddles on the roads and pavements and the cold wind was blowin'. It blew a few stray paper bags from the shops down the street. It was only just light outside, but it's April, so what's new...

I hear a few people stirrin' from their sleep.

"Aye! Lucky! Ya should be up by now. I can't run this place all by myself!" I twist around from the window and call over to the girl that helps me run the Westminster Newsies. She's barely awake!

I saunter over to my boyfriends' bed and try and shake him awake. We both laugh as he waves his arms around blindly tryin' to shove me away.

"Come on Tommy! Get ya lazy arse up!" I shove him playfully, and he almost fell off the bed, but he grabbed onto my hand and pulled me, so I was lyin' next to him. He put his arm around me and I almost forgot about sellin' papers...

"Mornin'." He said quietly, while tracin' the outline of the small birthmark next to my left eye. He was really warm, and it was a nice change from the freezin' cold of the lodgin' house. His cute Aussie accent came through a lot in the mornin', and sometimes he would make it really thick and I would try and guess what the hell he was sayin'! Yeah, I love him with all my heart.

"Mornin'," I said back. We ended up starin' into each other's eyes. I love his eyes, amazin' deep brown; they were like the fancy chocolate that ya see in shop windows in the rich part of the city.

"For Christs' sake, get a room! So much for wake up and get a move on, ey' Cat!" Our little moment was interrupted by none other than Lucky. I turn my head around and see her pickin' up her dice that she always takes around with her, ya know, just in case she gets tied up in another gamblin' game...again...

"Right! This is payback for all the times I have to listen to ya and Smalls swoonin' over each other!" I reply, flashin' her a cocky grin.

'Scuse my manners, I should introduce myself. My name is Caitlin. Caitlin Barnes to be precise, but I go by Cat. I am 15 and I live in Westminster Borough, London. I am one of the two leaders of the Newsies here; the other leader is a girl called Lucky. Our lodgin' house is in Westminster City, which is quite near the borders of Lambeth and Camden; and it is a mess, I mean, there are clothes, shoes and caps everywhere! If ya borough rankin' was based on how tidy ya lodgin' house is, we would be right at the bottom!

The boroughs are ranked by one thing and one thing only. It's not how many people there are in ya borough and it's not how tidy ya Lodgin' House is. Thank god! It's by how much money ya make every month, and we make a fair amount. Mikey, the Polish kid, is the resident maths genius and he always adds up all our money every night.

Westminster is actually one of the smallest boroughs in London, but we all look after each other. Turf wars are a nightmare! Ya can usually tell which boroughs are run by boys because they are the quickest to get into fights; whereas the boroughs run by girls, like Camden, City and obviously here, are more diplomatic and don't want to get anyone killed! Although Angel's Bromley ain't on my list of allies...and that system ain't always correct.

We always think of the famous Spot Conlon and Jack Kelly when we need to defend ourselves. Sorry, I'm probably borin' ya with this, they probably don't know it, but they're famous over here!

There's a kid named Roger who was sent over here by his aunt in New York, he's from Brooklyn and he told us all about Spot Conlon, his borough leader, and Jack Kelly, the leader of a borough called Manhattan. He called them the best leaders their side of the pond!

Anyways, after we were rudely interrupted by my co-leader, Tommy Boy released me from his warm, tight hug, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and we both got out of his bed.

I walked away from him while he chatted to Albie, one of the few people who actually live with their parents, but he was doin' stuff, so they let him stay here for the night. Mikey was stuff.

Yeah...

I made it over to Elise and Adelaide's beds. Those girls came over from France, just like my father, but they don't speak any English.

Luckily, my father did. So, he taught me and my mother, I tried to learn, but I don't have the right head for it, my brain prefers English and reading things in English. I only know a few basic phrases. Seams knows French though. She's the only one who can talk to them with any certainty of what they're sayin'!

"Tres bien mesdames! Il est temps de porter la banniere!" I said to them I saw someone, Red I think, glance over at them. They're new and I don't think they knew what Seams said!

That means "Alright ladies! Time to carry the banner!" by the way! Meanin', time to get up and sell the papers before it's too late! It's pretty much the only phrase I know for sure.

I chatted for a bit with Chase and how he flirted with his girlfriend last night! I know that doesn't sound very interestin', but he was either drunk or just really tired, but when he asked if she was single, he cried! It was way funnier if ya was there...

The two of us laughed for a bit. He went red and smiled, embarrassed. I left him to get dressed and walked back to my bed, clappin' him on the back as I went! I weaved my way back to my bed and kissed Tommy as I passed him.

I got my clothes out of my bedside drawer and laid them out on my bed, pushin' my recently-finished book aside. I put my bra on backwards, then twisted it around under my shirt. I pulled the straps up and took my nightshirt off.

Tommy Boy looked up and blushed when he saw me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and grinned back at him.

"Whattaya got for me today babe?"

"Alright! Uhhhh...try and guess what this means!" There's this thing Tommy and I do every mornin'. He tells me some Aussie slang and I have to guess what the hell he means, and then I say somethin' in French and he tries to guess what I mean.

I looked over at him from where I was changin' into my day clothes.

"What are daks?" He said, with a cute little smirk.

"Ya what?" I laughed. I had absolutely no idea what he meant by 'Daks'. I love this idiot!

"Y'know! Daks! Ya wearin' 'em right now!" I stood there, lookin' down at myself. I was standin' next to my bed in my bra and trousers.

"Does it mean trousers?" It sounded ridiculous! I bent down and grabbed my blue and off-white striped undershirt and pulled it on as he replied.

"Yup! Well done! Ya gettin' betta at guessin'! That was an easy one though..." He grinned at the last bit.

"Right," I decided I was gonna give him a hard one. I clapped my hands together, rubbed them together and stuck my tongue out a bit while I thought of my plan. "Got it! Journaux. Take a crack at that!"

I pulled my mother's old red and grey shirt on and laughed at the look of complete confusion on his face. It was adorable, and he started laughin' with me. I gave him some time to think while I did up the buttons and put my black waistcoat, socks and shoes on as fast as I could. I had to time this perfectly.

The laces of my brown work boots were still undone when I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and looked up at him. God, I hope I timed this right!

Ding! Ding! Ding! YES!!!

"It means newspapers!" I said as the distribution bell rang out! I kissed him quickly and left him to get dressed. He was still shirtless and had only managed to put his trousers, socks and shoes on! Whereas I was fully dressed if ya don't count my hat.

I grabbed my hat off the end of my bed and yelled out to my newsies.

"Come of guys! Carry the banner!" I yelled out to everyone. They went thunderin' down the stairs. Most of 'em went two at a time and I'm really surprised that someone doesn't die or get really hurt every day!

"Ey! CAT?" I heard someone yell from the doorway to the stairs. I turned around to see who it was.

"Yeah, Fletch?" That's Fletcher. No one really knows where he came from, but we soon found out that he's wicked strong. Like, unnaturally strong, we had a bit of a situation and we needed to clear the main room. Fletcher just came up and lifted up a chair, Patch was still sittin' on it! And he just lifted it up like it was nothin'! Boy, crutch and all!

"What day is it?" His head bobbed up and down as he jumped to see over the few remainin' people.

"Uhhh...Tuesday 25th." I said just as everyone else made it out the door and down the stairs, Fletcher nodded to me, turned and ran down the stairs. I turned back to Tommy and we chuckled a bit about his slightly strange question, but we shrugged it off soon enough.

Once everyone was out, it was just me and Tommy. I bent down and did my shoes up and put my hat on and let my hair hang down. It fell past my waist and there was so much of it, I could rarely fit all of it in my hat!

"C'mon! Ya nearly ready?" I wandered over to the door leadin' to the landin' and the stairs down to the ground floor. The dormitories of the 'Mayfair Lodging House' - and every other lodgin' house, for that matter - were on the 2nd floor. The middle floor had the kitchens, but we don't use that much, and the near-permanently locked storeroom.

The storerooms were only to be unlocked in an emergency, and only the leaders of the boroughs had the key. Now, I have a feelin' about what ya goin' to say...But Mayfair has two leaders!? That's definitely true, but if a borough has two leaders, the first to actually become leader gets the key.

And that would be me. I was made leader when I was 12 because of some emergency from the old leader, Note; then when I was 14, last year, I "promoted" Lucky to become my co-leader. I always keep the key on a long black ribbon around my neck and tucked into my bra. I even sleep with it on because Angel snuck in and almost stole it from my bedside table. From then on, I kept it on at all times. No one that lives in the Lodging House has seen the inside of it...I don't even know if it's ever been opened before and the many times I've looked under the door, all I could see was darkness and dust...

I stood there thinkin' and waitin' for Tommy to finish tyin' his shoelaces up and grab his hat before he ran over to me. I thought he would stop next to me like he did every other day...but I guess every other day we haven't been this late. So instead, he planted a quick kiss on my lips and bolted down the stairs!

"Race ya to the gates!" He called out.

"Hey! Ya got a head start!" I yelled after him, jumpin' down the stairs two at a time. He bolted out the door and closed it after him!

"Really!?" I said, laughin' under my breath. I opened the door quickly and then slammed it shut and ran after him.

Now, what he didn't take into account, was that I was one of the fastest runners in all of the Westminster Newsies, but he knew he was always faster. I guess he just wanted to let me win...for once!

We got to the Distribution Gates with about five seconds to spare before they locked up! The Jordan Brothers were just about to lock the gates when we got right up to them and I stuck my arm through the gap between the rapidly closin' iron gates.

"Oi! Dan! Joey! 100 each!" Tommy yelled. Dan opened the gates reluctantly.

"Why was you two late?" That was Mr Fink. He is a literal weasel. He's the Jordan Brother's uncle and he is the paper distributor for Westminster. Despite bein' a complete arsehole, he's a fat man, he always looks like he's got a permanent hangover and he has a face a potato would be proud of. But 'e can throw a hard punch...

He sneered at us as we walked up the slope to the hatch.

"None o' ya business, Fink." I retorted.

"It's Mister Fink to ya." He slammed his hand down of the countertop.

He wanted money.

I slammed my 50 pence piece with just as much force as he slammed his hand down. The price of the papers is two for a penny. So, its 50 pence for 100 papers. Most of the time it's an alright price, but if it's cold, or windy, or rainin'...then not so much. Fuck it! It's England! It's like that most of the time! Our Septembers are usually pretty good though...

I laughed under my breath and took my papers once he put them on the countertop.

"What's so funny? Huh?" Dan Jordan grabbed onto my arm as I jumped down from the platform at the top of the slope; he was standin' near the raised platform, but on the floor instead of the ramp.

"Oh, nothin'!" I replied sarcastically, fakin' innocence.

"Don't believe ya!" His grip on my arm tightened.

"Get offa me, Dan." I gave him my death-stare, full of anger and hate. I wouldn't let him bully us. He didn't loosen his grip at all. I clenched my fist, preparin' for a fight. I wasn't scared to fight the Jordan Brothers! They might be a few years older than us, but I know Tommy and I can take 'em.

Then he said somethin' that would've scared me shitless a few years ago...

"The Foreman says hello." My stare wavered and I looked down for a second, before raisin' my head again and death-stared him again. I was tryin' to form a plan of attack that wouldn't end up in either or both of us endin' up dead in an alleyway in the East End.

By that time, Fink had given Tommy Boy his papers, and he managed to get behind Joey without gettin' punched. Tommy grabbed Dan's left shoulder with his right hand and tore him away from me, his hand comin' away from my arm.

Tommy threw him to the ground and punched him hard in the face. The punch drew blood and Joey looked even more pissed off than usual.

"Run Cat!" He yelled. I was lookin' around for Joey and Fink, but a massive stack of papers had fallen, or had been pushed, in front of the door they had to get through to get to us. Joey and Fink were swearin' at us through the barred window of the door.

"Run!" I looked back at Tommy and Dan. Dan had a small cut on his face and Tommy was sprintin' towards me, his 100 papers still under his left arm. I still had mine and he grabbed the arm that wasn't supportin' the papers and tugged me out of the distribution square.

I locked the gates and we ran away from them as fast as we could, down slippery streets and across rain-soaked roads, until we collapsed out of breath with laughter on the wet, cold grass of the Victoria Tower Gardens, near my sellin' spot; I swear I didn't plan it this time!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I’m looking forward to you reading the next ones! Please like and roblog. Have a perfect day!

#newsies fanfiction #newsies #tommy boy newsies #tommy boy #gingers-writing-blog #new york bound chapter 1

1 note · View note

loving-jack-kelly · 5 years

Text

Bloody Knuckles

David’s parents had always assured him his soulmate was a working girl.

They’d been noticing the bruises since he was little, showing up on places that didn’t quite make sense with the possible ways he could have hurt himself.

As he got older, he started to notice ones that worried him. Marks that seemed far to deliberate and far too well hidden to be accidental.

When he was thirteen, he was so covered in bruises and cuts that he begged to stay home from school every day for a month. Every time one healed, a new one took its place. When they finally started to heal, he found scars in their place.

They didn’t hurt, soulmate marks never did, but they were always there.

He didn’t believe his parents’ assurances that his soulmate was a working girl, not with marks like that. And not with the way he felt about girls. Or rather, the way he felt about boys. Not that they knew that, nor was he sure if they ever would.

When he was older, many of the bruises got less frequent and some of the scars faded.

When he was sixteen, the tapestry of cuts and bruises came back, again covering almost his entire body, though it didn’t take as long this time to heal completely.

The worst marks were on his back and sides. There were long, slashing scars winding up and around, like somebody had taken to his soulmate with a knife. There were rows of straight, thin scars on his arms, scars on his hands, scars on his legs, everywhere he looked and touched he could find some kind of mark.

Many of them weren’t super visible to most other people. Plenty were easily hidden by his long sleeves and pants, and many had faded so that he could only see them if he tried.

He couldn’t really be sure how many of the smaller marks belonged to him. Obviously, the big ones he remembered appearing through no injury of his own, but there were plenty of smaller scars that could have easily been his own.

A mark on the back of his neck from a mistake his mother had made when trying to trim his hair, a small burn on his hand he remembered getting from a hot pan, things like that he knew had come from his own life, but there were other small marks that he easily could have done without noticing, or just as easily not noticed when they showed up from his soulmate.

The most noticeable mark he had wasn’t even a scar, it was the bruises across his knuckles that barely seemed to fade and never seemed to heal. Occasionally they made it all the way to yellow before the bruises were suddenly fresh again. Red to blue to purple to green to yellow, then back to red. Sometimes fresh bruises were accompanied with a bruised nose or eyes, telling him whoever his soulmate was had likely lost the fight or at least had a harder one, but not often.

And the bruises on his knuckles never went away.

The first thing he looked at when he met somebody new was their knuckles, whether or not they were bruised to match his own. For a long time, it didn’t make a difference. The only people he knew were from the synagogue he and his family went to every week and the boys he knew at school. None of those people ever had bruises as obviously from fighting as he did, and he knew his hands matched his soulmate’s exactly, because that was how it worked.

And then he was seventeen, his father was out of work because of an accident on the job, and he and Les had to spend at least the summer, though likely more, working to support their family.

Factory jobs would be too dangerous, his mom had insisted. The laundry she and Sarah did would help, and a factory job would be too dangerous when they couldn’t afford any other injuries. So they were going to sell newspapers, join the boys who yelled headlines for hours a day and hopefully make enough to help keep food on the table.

It had seemed simple enough, and then they’d actually started.

The group of boys they’d joined were loud, physical, and almost every last one of them had bruises across their knuckles.

The one that stood out, though, was Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly who claimed he was giving them forty percent of their earnings, but somehow kept ending up giving them exactly a dollar and fifty cents every day, even if they’d only made two dollars at the absolute most.

And Jack Kelly who just shrugged when David asked why. Shrugged and said, “You got folks to feed, ain’t you?”

Jack Kelly whose bruises seemed to match David’s more closely the more he looked, but he wasn’t sure if that was because they really did match or because he kind of wanted them to.

Jack Kelly who single handedly started a strike that may have started as just the people loyal to him, but had ended up being citywide, who had betrayed them, maybe, but even if he’d pretended it had been for money when it happened, it’d later been revealed that Pulitzer had threatened every last one of his newsies with the Refuge if he hadn’t turned. Jack Kelly who would do anything to help the people who helped him, the people he cared about, the family he chose.

Jack Kelly who got into fights at least once or twice a week over his boys, and that’s why his knuckles were always bruised.

David tried to hint at it, tried to see if Jack would reveal any other marks he knew so well, but it seemed like he could never get a good enough look at any of the marks he knew on his own body on Jack’s. A couple times he thought he caught a glimpse of something, but Jack was always covered in paint, and his hair covered where David’s haircut scar would have been on his neck, and David couldn’t be sure enough to actually say anything. So he stuck to pointedly letting Jack see his knuckles, trying to see if Jack thought they matched, too.

“What about you, Davey? Wanna join?”

“No, thanks.” David was used to getting invited to join strip poker, he’d gotten used to it by the time he’d spent three weeks with the newsies, but he hadn’t said yes yet. He was just being modest, he told himself, just didn't really want to get almost naked with a room full of people, even if they were his best friends. It was awkward, and he’d show off all the scars that weren’t his.

It was a revealing game, though, in more ways than the obvious. He’d noticed a couple pairs of scars between the boys. Specs and Romeo, Mush and Blink, Itey and Buttons, and once he’d noticed that, he’d noticed how they were always together, always finding excuses to leave together.

But he didn’t want to take off his shirt and find out in front of everyone and find out in front of everyone if he was imagining Jack being his soulmate or not. It was easier to just watch and laugh along with everyone else.

“Both socks or pick something else, Romeo, a single sock ain’t a whole thing.” Romeo scowled and pulled his other sock off.

“How come that rule ain’t being applied to everyone?”

“It is, asshat.” David laughed with everyone else, but did notice that several people playing the game were only wearing one sock, so Race wasn’t being that consistent with his enforcement of house rules.

After the first game was over and they were starting the next, David wandered out of the upstairs dorm room and down towards the common room, where he was sure everyone else who wasn’t playing was doing something else. Les had begged for weeks to get to have a sleepover at the lodging house, and they’d only agreed if David agreed to stay, too, so he was stuck for the night. Les and the younger boys were already cooped up in the lower boarding room, sent to bed by Jack as soon as Race had started suggesting games that would require the loss of clothing.

He joined the conversation briefly in the common room, but he honestly had no idea what they were talking about, something about the ratio of something to something that had to do with how many free sandwiches they could convince Mr. Jacobi to hand out. It sounded like nonsense to him, comparing the number of women and children to how many empty food crates were in the alley out back.

After listening for a little while, he wandered back upstairs just in time to watch Race strip off his undershirt, leaving him in nothing other than his tight fitting underpants.

“Davey! Come to be dealt in?”

“No, Race.” Race grinned at him and opened his arms wide like he was asking for a hug.

When they played real poker, betting with things other than clothes, Race was not nearly as happy to loose.

David laughed and ducked under his arms, noticing the open window and guessing that if Jack wasn’t playing poker and wasn’t involved in the conversation downstairs he’d probably made his way to the roof.

“Hey, Jack.” He could see Jack sitting against the opposite side of the roof, a candle lit near him so he could see whatever he was doing.

“Hey, Davey.” Jack smiled at him and moved over slightly so David could sit down on the blanket he had spread out under him.

“What’s that?” Jack was drawing something in a book, which was unusual. Usually he was drawing on scraps of paper, either from unsold newspapers or pieces he found anywhere else.

“Found a copy of a book for the littles a couple days ago, only it was in the garbage ‘cause it’s falling apart, so I’m trying to copy it so they can read it without having to be too careful.” Jack closed the book and showed David the cover. “Gonna see if Medda’ll let me borrow some paint and little brushes to color it in, see how it looks on the real one?” Jack gingerly picked up another book from his other side and showed David the color.

“Ali Baba, or, the Forty Thieves.” David read out loud. He compared the cover on Jack’s brown book to the cover with the title on it. “They look almost the same.” Jack shrugged. “Copying art ain’t as fun as really making it, but we only got a couple books for the littles and this one’ll last for a while.” David took the book from Jack and flipped through it, noticing how many words there were.

“I can copy the words for you when you’re done with the pictures.” David offered.

“You saying something about my handwriting, Jacobs?” Jack bumped David’s shoulder and grinned at him.

“It took me almost an hour to decipher the last note you left me, and it was two sentences.” David grinned, and Jack laughed.

“Considered I can barely read, it’s a miracle I can write at all. But I might take you up on that. I hate writing.” Jack took the book back and opened it up to the page he was copying. “No strip poker for you?”

“No, thank you. You either, though.”

“Not my favorite game.” Jack said, focusing on his drawing and only looking between his copy and the book.

“I’d think it would be.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, you seem like somebody who’d like playing strip poker.” David shrugged. Jack was confident, funny, very similar to Race, who loved the game. Jack shook his head.

“Nah. When you got as many scars as me, a game like that ain’t fun.” Jack said, almost absentmindedly. “Just gets people feeling bad for me. Give me regular poker for a few pennies or something over taking off my clothes any day.” David kept watching Jack draw, carefully outlining a man in flowy clothes who looked surprised at whatever else was going to end up in the drawing. “What’s your excuse?”

“Hmm?”

“For not playing strip poker?”

“Oh. Same as yours, I guess.”

“You got scars?” Jack sounded surprised.

“All the same as my soulmate.” David said, not looking up at Jack in case he gave away how he felt.

“Right. Soulmate marks.” Jack said. “Sometimes I forget most people have those.”

“You don't?” Jack shook his head.

“Ain’t got a soulmate, just a whole lotta scars and all the bad memories that came with ‘em.” He didn’t sound overly sad about it, just resigned. “Or if I do they ain’t got no scars except mine, which ain’t exactly fair.”

“To them or you?” Jack thought a bit.

“Both of us. They got scars they didn’t earn, and I don’t have any I didn’t. But it don’t matter, ‘cause there ain’t a person in this world who ain’t got a mark on ‘em from something in their life. I just ain’t got a soulmate. Some people don’t, you know.”

“Yeah.” David was silent for a second. “You don’t deserve scars, Jack. Nobody does.” He studied his own knuckles.

Obviously, if Jack didn’t have a soulmate, their knuckles didn’t match and it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see any of the other scars he had on Jack, because Jack wouldn’t have them anyway.

Jack shrugged again and focused on his page.

“You don’t, Jack.”

“I guess.” He didn’t sound too convinced.

David knew Jack didn't have the highest opinion of himself. It was one of the things that made him such a good leader; he never hesitated to put everyone else before himself because he thought of everyone else as better than him.

It also meant he was far too hard on himself, and didn’t give himself credit for anything he deserved credit for, or take it from anyone else.

He was brave, kind, an incredible artist, and so much smarter than he thought he was, and he couldn’t see any of that.

“What?” Jack said, breaking David out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me and thinking about something.” Jack said. “How come?”

“I dunno.” David was a little bit scared to put any of those thoughts into words. He was absolutely terrified to accidentally reveal anything about how he felt about Jack to him. “Never mind, I guess.” Jack looked at him for a couple more seconds before shrugging slightly and turning his focus back on his books. “How did you learn to draw, Jack?”

“Changing the subject, huh?” Jack smiled without looking up. “It’s cheaper than a camera picture.”

“That’s why, not how.”

“Practice. I didn’t wanna forget my parents, so I drew and drew to remember their faces. The more I drew the better I got. And Medda lets me paint whenever I want, so I get to practice that, too.” He said it like it was no big deal with David looking over his shoulder, watching Jack recreate professionally done illustrations like it wasn’t even hard. “It ain’t that hard. You just gotta look at what you see and put it on the paper.” He put down his books and reached over to his little pile of art supplies. He handed David a few pieces of scrap pencil and a well-used pencil. “Try.” He said. “See, here’s the picture I’m copying now. Just try to make the same.”

David looked at the drawing doubtfully, but started trying to copy the picture of a man offering a woman a few coins anyway. It was definitely way harder than Jack made it seem. Jack moved his pencil for five seconds and suddenly David could see the faces and the background, whatever little detail Jack had focused in on.

David’s attempt was lumpy. The lines weren’t straight enough some places, and were too straight in others. He couldn’t get the eyes to match, and the noses looked disproportionate, and the background looked either way too big or way to small. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he focused on his paper, trying to transfer the drawing from the worn out book to his own paper.

When he finally looked up, Jack was leaning against the wall with a kind of weird expression on his face, halfway between a smile and something else. David tilted his paper toward Jack.

“You make it look so easy.”

“I’ve been practicing a lot longer than one night, Dave.” Jack fully smiled at him, erasing the weird half of his expression. “And that’s not bad.”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“It ain’t! See here’s Ali Baba, here’s his wife, here’s the donkey...I can see it all.” Jack leaned closer to David, inspecting his copy. “I like it.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“Really.” Jack insisted. “You just gotta practice, and you’ll be good.”

“Sure I will.” Jack shook his head, laughing.

“I promise. Anyway, you’re staying tonight, right?”

“Yeah, Les finally convinced Mama to let us stay.”

“He can be a pretty convincing little kid.”

“Thanks to your bad influence.”

“Hey, he sells more papes than either of us, so I did something right.” David laughed, and Jack started picking up his art supplies, carefully stacking his books and rolling up the loose papers to put back in their little tube. “You wanna sleep up here?”

“On the roof?”

“Gets hot in there with everyone in one room.” Jack stood up and offered David a hand to pull him up too. “So I like to sleep up here in the summer.” He walked over to a pile of stuff covered by some kind of big cloth and folded it back, revealing a pile of blankets and pillows. “Nobody else is, tonight, I don’t think.” He picked up an armful of stuff and moved it to the middle of the roof, spreading out a couple blankets and putting a pair of pillows at the top. “It’s pretty comfortable.” He sat down and patted the blanket next to him, and David sat down next to him.

Jack leaned backward on his elbows looking up at the sky, studying the stars. He looked lost in thought, the lights from taller buildings combining with lights from the sky to light up his face and make his eyes sparkle while the sun finished setting.

“How’d you get so good at reading?” He asked abruptly. “Cause it ain’t practice like drawing, ‘cause I try and read all the time but I can’t make the letters make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like they move around like bugs when I look away. Like they like to try and trick me.” Jack shrugged, looking a little bit uncomfortable to admit it. “Like a letter starts one place and ends up someplace else and I can’t remember where it started so all the sudden I don’t know what word it started out as and the new word ain’t a word at all.”

“Sometimes it’s like that for me too.” David admitted, mirroring Jack’s pose and leaning back to look up at the sky. “They just don’t like to stay put. Only I have to make them, ‘cause I have to do well in school, so I can get a good job teaching or something and help my family. So I just ignore it until it’s so bad I can’t, and then I go real slow.” He hadn’t really told anybody that before, because if they thought he couldn’t handle school, they’d stop trying to teach him, and he’d never be able to get anywhere if the teachers weren’t willing to try. “But I’ve been trying since I was little. Maybe it is like drawing. I’ve just been practicing longer.”

“Maybe.” Jack said doubtfully, allowing himself to flop down on the pile of blankets. “I think I just can’t read.”

“You can obviously read, Jack, it’s just hard for you. Everyone has to be bad at something, it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“What are you bad at?”

“Drawing. Selling papes. Cooking.” Jack laughed.

“Guess I’m good at all those things.” He said, swinging his arm out to knock David onto his own back.

He’d been so excited when David had invited him over for dinner and he’d found out the Jacobs family was Jewish, though David wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before, and he’d immediately thrown himself into whatever kitchen work Esther could drum up for him, telling her all about how when he was really little he’d helped his mom make Sabbath meals and holiday food, but he hadn’t really helped, more just tasted everything. David hadn’t known Jack was Jewish before that, but he’d certainly won Esther over and proved himself to actually know how to cook. He said he sometimes worked shifts for Mr. Jacobi when he needed to eat and didn’t have the money, trading work for food.

“Guess so.” David grinned and looked over at Jack. “Not everyone could start a strike, either, you know.”

“I seem to recall you doing that, Dave.”

“I said the word. You had the idea.”

“So I guess both of us are good at starting strikes, then.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

They didn’t say anything for a while, both of them looking back up to the sky. Jack was right about the roof being nicer than inside to sleep in. Even with windows up, the dorm rooms seemed like they were always hot and stuffy. David was sure in the winter, the amount of heat the walls seemed to trap would be nice, but in the summer, it just made them miserable. Up here, there was a nice breeze, and the air was breathable. The blankets were comfortable, too, and David could feel himself start to doze off until Jack sat up again.

When he looked over, Jack was unbuttoning his shirt, and he forced himself to look away again, blushing. Even if he was wearing an undershirt, it was still weird.

“You gonna sleep in your clothes?” Jack asked.

“I don’t have pajamas.”

“So? Underclothes are still more comfortable than a button up and belted pants.” David looked up at Jack again, silhouetted against the sky.

“I’m good.”

“Okay.” Jack flopped back down and kicked his pants off too, pushing his clothes into a ball off to the side. One of his bare arms landed over close to David, and he couldn’t help but stare it it, first in a kind of wistfulness for the lost hope he’d had that they were soulmates, and then with growing confusion.

Without saying anything to Jack, he rolled up his sleeve and rolled enough to compare their arms. It was Jack’s right arm, and they looked almost exactly the same. The light was too low to really tell, but David knew those scars well. The small, uniform slash marks on the inside of his arm, other marks winding around the outside, marks he knew as well as the back of his hand because they were on <i>his</i> arm, too.

He was too scared to look at Jack’s face, instead keeping his eyes focused on the scars, even when he heard Jack suck in a breath and felt him touch David’s exposed arm gently.

“Davey…” He sounded like he had no idea how to finish whatever thought he’d started.

“Yeah.” David said, forcing himself to look up at Jack’s face.

The weird expression David had noticed when Jack was watching him draw had come back, only now there was little bit of fear or nervousness or something like that mixed in with it.

Jack’s eyes were wide, and they kept flicking back and forth between David’s face and their arms, where Jack was tracing the marks on David’s with his fingers. Up and over the little ridges, around the little marks on the back of his hand, and then he lifted his hand up off the rooftop and ran his thumb over the fading bruises on Davey’s knuckles. Then he lifted Davey’s hand even further, and pressed a kiss to the bruises, holding eye contact with Davey, who couldn’t help but blush and shiver a little bit at the touch.

“Does it hurt?” He asked quietly, running his thumb over the bruises again. “When they come?”

“They don’t feel like anything.” Davey said. “They just show up.”

Jack kissed his knuckles again, shaking his head.

“I didn’t even notice.”

“Everyone has bruised knuckles, Jack, all of them.”

“But not the scars.”

“You didn’t see my arms.”

“You knew.”

“No, I didn't.” Davey rolled all the way over so he was facing Jack directly, and twisted his fingers into Jack’s, so they were holding hands for real, instead of Jack pulling his hand towards his face. “I wanted you to be.” He admitted, and Jack laughed a little bit.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you want me to be your soulmate? Smart guy like you chasing a guy like me?”

“Guy like you? Jack, you led a strike, you were willing to give up everything to protect your boys, you’re an incredible artist, you’re so sweet, and brave, and funny, you taught us how to sell, you gave us more money than you said you would because you thought we needed it-” Davey could have listed a thousand more reasons he would chase after Jack Kelly, but Jack pressed forward and kissed him on the mouth, cutting him off.

He pulled back almost instantly, and Davey could tell he was about to apologize but he didn’t give him the chance before he kissed him right back.

And that was something he could get used to. Kissing Jack Kelly on a warm summer night on the rooftop with the stars above them. And Jack’s hand moving to rest on his side, and Jack’s other arm slipping underneath him and that hand tangling in his hair, pulling them even closer together. And how comfortable it felt. They fit, they fit perfectly, and it felt so perfect, to be lying on the soft blankets, pressed so close to Jack, kissing Jack.

“That’s really what you think of me?” Jack said breathlessly when they did pull apart again. “All that?”

“All that, Jacky. Everyone thinks that, Jacky, everyone knows how wonderful you are except you.” Jack kissed him again, short and soft and sweet.

“I’m not all that, Davey, I’m just a poor kid who ain’t got nothing.”

“You got me. And everyone in that building. And you got my family.” Jack smiled at him and rolled onto his back, pulling Davey snug to his side.

“That a promise, Dave?”

“Yeah.” Davey snuggled even closer. “It is. It always is.”

“You ever wish on a star, Davey?”

“Huh?” The sudden change of subject threw him for a loop.

“You ever wish on a star?”

“I guess.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“I dunno. Whatever I needed when I thought to wish.”

“I used to wish to get out west, to have enough money to do what I want.”

“Not anymore though?”

“Now I guess I just wish everything stays as good as it feels right now.”

“That sounds good to me, Jack.”

258 notes · View notes

broadwaycantdie · 6 years

Text

Kid Blink - Newsies Month . Day 30

( blush ) + ( modern ) + ( headcanon story )

warnings: very long

————————————————————————

mush and kid blink have been dating for as long as anyone can remember

they are actually the 2nd longest running couple (spot and race started dating about 3 months before them)

so needless to say, they don’t really do all the “new couple” activities

they are pretty domesticated

most of their nights are spent just cuddling, watching a movie, maybe ordering takeout, and just being together at home

but their anniversary was coming up

so mush got an idea

he wanted to do something for his boyfriend of so many years

blink had no clue of what he was doing

albert actually asked him to hang out which was odd because he knew it was him and mush’s anniversary

mush insisted it was okay and they went out

little to blink’s knowledge, mush told albert to get blink out of the house so he could get everything ready

kid blink was pretty upset all day with albert

he thought mush forgot their anniversary

it’s been so long

how could he just forget?

albert brought blink home (at the requested time of mush)

he hung his head and stared to open the door

when he walked in the whole room was pitch black

which was odd because he thought mush was home, the car was there at least

he called out for his boyfriend but no answer

he saw a faint light coming from the bedroom so he went to walk inside

when he got inside he saw what he never imagined he’d see

the floor was covered in rose petals

candles were lit on the dresser and sidetables

a bag sat in the bed with a note in front of it

“put this on and come into the kitchen. keep the lights off”

he opened the bag and was quickly confused

regardless, blink followed the directions on the note and arrived into the kitchen

he found more candles

and his boyfriend

wearing possibly the worst outfit he’s ever seen

until it hit him

he put the pieces together

his outfit

mush’s

the really bad italian food he smelt when he walked in

the roses

the candles

he even got the decor right

“how did you do this?”

the outfit kid blink put on was an oversized red polo, khaki cargo shorts that went to his knees, and white socks (he would have had nike sneakers on but they don’t like shoes in the house)

mush’s outfit wasn’t much better

he wore dark blue jeans that were way too tight, a skin tight white tank top, a black blazer that didn’t fit right, a bandana, and he had brown flip flops set to the side

the table was set with a tacky red and cream checkered tablecloth, a candle, and 3 roses laying on the side

crappy, cheap pasta sat on both sides of the small table with chairs across from one another

kid blink couldn’t believe it

“you remembered everything?”

“every detail is here”

mush took his hand and kissed it

they took their seats and ate their food

mush explained what he was doing

“our first date was 10 years ago, today, at paulo’s pizza and pasta, probably the worst italian food we’ve ever had. I brought you 3 roses because that’s all I could afford, we wore these horrific outfits, and at the end of the night do you remember what I did?”

“we had our first kiss”

“exactly, so now for our 10 year anniversary, I was thinking I’d do a little more than give you a kiss”

mush got up from his seat and pulled a box out of his pocket

he got down on his knee and took kid blink’s hand

“blink. If I was being honest, I never thought we’d be anything at the start of this date, but when I saw how you smiled so wide at every joke I made, and didn’t laugh when I told you I could only afford 3 roses, and let me ask you questions about your eye, and you let me kiss you on our first date. Yeah, the food was bad and the overall environment sucked, but it didn’t matter because you made me feel better than anyone has ever made me feel. So with all that, louis ‘kid blink’ balletti, would you do me the honor and the privilege of marrying me”

blink couldn’t even speak

tears were welling up

he shook his head and croked out a soft yes

they shared a long kiss and just took in the entire moment

“I can’t believe you proposed to me in this outfit, and I can’t believe I ever thought of marrying anyone else but you”

58 notes · View notes

writing-makes-me-antsy · 5 years

Text

Totally Platonic Family Dinner (Finch/Reader) Part 2

042552/totally-platonic-family-dinner-finchreader-part

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626086

(Let me know if you want me to add you to a tag list!)

The family dinner went absolutely wonderful. Within moments Finch had warmed up to your family, and they absolutely adored him. Of course they would, who wouldn’t love Finch? Knowing his allergies, you had made sure there was plenty he could eat-even for dessert! There was more than enough room for you to have personal space, but instead, you and Finch had sat rather close together, your knees bumping against each other every few moments.

At one point during dinner, near the end, you had found yourself lost in a hazy fog. You felt the gentle tug of sleep, and with it a creeping feeling of sentimentality. The past year had been so rough, and the previous November had been so bad that you couldn’t even remember Thanksgiving. The fact that you were able to be here, now, surrounded by people you loved so much… It was wonderful. Each little moment of this was so, so wonderful. You turned to look at finch and drank in his features. You loved his distinctive sharp jaw, his cheekbones that were always prominent from smiling when around you, and, god help you, his lips. You didn’t let yourself think on that train of thought for too long, but allowed yourself to openly stare at him, entirely grateful to have this man as your friend.

“What’s up?” Finch looked at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m just so happy I know you.” Your words were soft and genuine.

“Um-er… I’m not that great.” He began fidgeting with his napkin, the closest thing at hand.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, “Yeah you are.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he replied in kind.

You turned back to your mashed potatoes and began shoveling them in your mouth, like the elegant princess you are. When you glanced up again, potatoes slightly smeared around your mouth, your cheeks filled to the brim, you were met with a lovely sight. You heart skipped a beat when you found Finch staring at you with the weirdest expression. He had a soft smile that was nearly a smirk, the happiness meeting his eyes. As soon as he saw that you had noticed him, he glanced away again.

“What’s the story behind that?” He asked you, pointing at a nearby painting. It was of a squirrel riding a unicycle, the art surprisingly realistic.

You shrugged. “I saw it at goodwill and I liked it, so we hung it up.”

“Wow, you really do have such great taste in interior design.”

“Hush it.” You lightly nudged him, and he nudged you back.

“Make me.” He said, and damn, you wished it worked like the movies where now is would be the time where you two would passionately make out. But this wasn’t a movie, and your family was literally three feet away, so it wouldn’t be the classiest choice. So, instead, you concocted a plan.

“I’ll go get dessert,” you announced to the group. Pushing out your chair, you made your way over to the kitchen. On the counter were the brownies you made that catered to Finch’s weird food choices, as well as a normal pumpkin pie for everyone else. First, you carried the pie out for everyone and laid it down on the table, refusing to look at Finch the whole time. Then, you delivered the brownies. While setting them on the table, you maintained eye contact with Finch, who seemed to be nearly watering at the mouth. This boy really liked his chocolate. Before he could take one, you pushed them away, but kept one hand hovered over it.

“So what was that about my interior design skills?” You smirked.

“You know bribes don’t work on me, right?” He leaned back in his chair, resisting your interrogation. But you knew you would have him soon enough. He wasn’t even looking at you half the time, he kept glancing back over to the delicious gooey squares you had made for him.

“Oh, I know.” You said, lightly picking up a brownie, looking as if you were going to eat it.

“I won’t change my mind, your-mmmf!” Halfway though his sentence, you shoved the brownie into his mouth, grinning mischievously at your victory.

“Now you’ve been hushed.” You were still smiling as he reluctantly ate the rest of the brownie that was crumbling apart in your hand. You hoped you weren’t blushing from the sensation of his lips against your skin. Now wasn’t the appropriate time for that. It would never be. Still, it wouldn’t hurt if… “Do you like it?” You asked hopefully.

“Yeah of course, they’re great.” He reached over and snagged a few more.

“I’m glad, I actually made those for you.” You admitted.

“You did?” He looked at you in shock. Really, you would think you’d shown him nothing but hatred with how often he looked at you like that. Why was he always surprised by this? He really needed more self esteem.

“Of course. I told you I wanted today to be perfect, remember?”

“Thank you. Maybe that squirrel doesn’t look half bad after all.”

“Oh hush.”

“Gladly,” He wiggled his eyebrows, “if it means I can have more brownies.”

“You say that as you already have three in your hands.”

“Yeah but,” He whined, “It’s not the same without you.”

You ignored the rush of adrenaline you felt at his words. “But if I’m feeding you, then I won’t be able to eat any.” You crossed your arms.

He leaned in slightly. “Then I guess I’ll have to return the favor.”

“Not happen-” Damn him, he just stole your move. His hand was so soft and gentle, his thumb and index finger slightly pressing into your cheeks to force the square in. You did what you had to do and took it from him, your heart pounding in your chest. Chewing, you had to admit you hadn’t done half bad this time. That made sense, considering you had been making test batches for weeks. Thankfully, Race and Albert hadn’t seemed to mind being guinea pigs.

“I hate you.” You pouted. He just stared at you intently, scrunching his entire face up. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for the truth.” He said simply before continuing his search.

“The truth?” You said, and couldn’t help but break out into a small smile, you could never keep a straight face around him.

“There it is!” He pointed at your smile. “You’ve never been very good at lying.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. This boy. “I will never understand you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He grinned.

In any case, you were glad he seemed to be enjoying himself thus far. You could check dinner off your checklist! Now it was time for the fun part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Goodbye! Have fun!” You called out, waving to the rest of your family, who were all heading out for a round of drinks. Being just slightly underage for drinking, you and Finch had to be left home. That was perfectly fine with you. Spending time alone with Finch was nothing new for you, the two of you were constantly joint at the hip wherever you went. It was to the point that once, much to your embarrassment, Albert had once asked whether you were siblings. That had been a rather awkward moment. You had immediately shouted your denial, so loud it must have been suspicious as hell. Wisely, neither of you had ever brought it up again.

Turning to look at Finch, a devilish grin spread across your face. “Now for the best part of the evening!”

“Oh? Is there something better than food?”

“Mmm you’ll see!” You lightly gripped his hand for just a second to signal for him to follow you.

Running to your kitchen, you slid across the floor in your socks, landing at a sudden stop by the counter. You rummaged through the cabinet, looking for your prize. “Who says only adults can have fun?” You turned around with a smirk, lifting the bottle in your hand for Finch to see.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

You laughed and moved you hand off the label. “It’s non alcoholic apple cider. I’m not trying to get you wasted-yet.” You winked at him.

He placed his hand on his chest, “I’m scandalized. I can’t believe you would ever imply that a holy child such as yours truly would even think of drinking.”

You lightly flicked him before turning to look for mugs. “I haven’t forgotten that time you called me crying with Elmer and Race. There’s no way the three of you weren’t drunk.”

His face flushed with embarrassment. ‘We don’t speak of that night.”

“That doesn’t erase it from my memory” You teased him, finally finding two cups you liked. You couldn’t help but grin when you set your chosen pair on the table, which read “Fuck it”, and “I’m it”. Very mature.

When Finch read them, he let out a bark of laughter. “How did I not know you owned these?”

“Because I was saving them for a special occasion?” You fiddled with the bottle, taking an embarrassing amount of time to open it. Finally, you managed it and poured the contents out. The scent pleasantly wafted up to you, crisp and sweet. You took both the mugs and tossed them in the microwave for minute to warm them up.

“Ah yes, sweet radiation.” Finch was now sitting on one of your counters, a habit you had picked up from him as well.

“As if it’s enough to turn you away from anything edible.”

“Touche. So, what’s the plan?”

“Call it cliche, but we’re gonna watch the greatest movie of all time.”

“And that would be?”

“Mean Girls, of course!” Finch rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. A few months back you had convinced him and the rest of the newsies and Katherine to watch it, and had only slightly regretted it once they had begun to quote it constantly.

“Hey-the timer just went off. I guess you should go fetch our drinks.” He was already laughing at his joke, and despite how bad the pun was, you joined in with him.

You handed his drink over to him and clutched your own in your hands, savoring the warmth. Both of you had perpetually freezing hands, so every little bit of heat was relished. Together, the two of you made your way into your bedroom, which was simple but cozy. Your bed was just big enough to fit the both of you, and on a dresser facing it was your TV, which had access to Netflix. You handed your cup over to Finch to hold as you set everything up, drawing closed the blinds and dimming the lights.

Finally, you crawled up next to him and got settled in. You were sitting next to each other, but awkwardly kept from touching. You still didn’t know what his boundaries were with physical interaction and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Whatever his reason for shying away from you as well, you didn’t know. Still, the two of you pulled up blankets together and gingerly sipped from your mugs. Well, at least you did. He gulped half of his down in a few quick seconds, only to screw up his face at the potent taste. You couldn’t help but giggle at his display.

When the movie started, the two of you easily slipped into your usual banter, only half paying attention.

“Okay hear me out, right.” Finch started with the cursed words.

“What’ll it be this time?” You braced yourself for whatever strange proclamation was coming.

“So you know how it’s really cold right?”

“Yeah?” You couldn’t see where this was going.

“And we’re watching Netflix?” His fingers were drumming against his cup. (He had the “I’m it” mug, of course).

“And?”

“Does this mean this is, Netflix and Chill?” He asked, a dorky grin splitting his face.

You cackled with laughter. “You are the worst.” You kept yourself from adding on, “And I love you.”

“I live to please.” He lightly bumped his shoulder against yours.

You continued back and forth for ages, just joke upon joke, sometimes at the expense of the characters. Some highlights included bickering over whether Janice’s hair was cute or not, about which newsies mirrored which characters, (Crutchie was a complete Cady, a wholesome bean), and whether it was indeed a better approach to conflict to just tackle someone. At one point, after a particularly funny joke, you found yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As soon as you realized what you were doing, you sat up again, quickly apologizing.

“You’re good.” He said, looking at you confused.

“I shouldn’t have done it without asking.” You explained. He just laughed at you before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Is this good?” He asked, and though it was dim, you could’ve sworn his face turned a little redder. It was probably your imagination though.

“Yeah, of course.” You said, and let him pull you closer into him. Your attention completely slipped away from the movie, and all you could think of was how comfy this moment was. He was layered in like eight hoodies, the cold boy he was, so he was such a soft squishy mess, warm up against you. A graceful smile was stretched across your face, a similar peaceful one on his. The two of you quieted slightly and turned your attention towards the movie-at least he seemed to. You barely paid attention to what was going on, instead drinking in this moment. Every once in a while you would glance over to him, admiring all the little details that marked his face as his own.

You could happily stay like this forever. That wasn’t really how it worked out though, because even in this moment, Finch couldn’t stay still for long. He kept shuffling his legs, in turn moving you around with him too. You didn’t mind too much though. You loved everything that made him, him, including how fidgety he always was. Yes, this moment really was wonderful.

#Finch/reader #Finch headcanons #Newsies #Newsies Finch #newsies fanfiction #Newsies/reader #My writing #Musicals #Disney's newsies #Finch x reader #Reader insert #Newsies headcanons

8 notes · View notes

hauntedbyvisionsof-flight · 6 years

Text

It Takes a Village. Or At Least Two Boroughs.

The last installment of Girlsies Week! I know its a day late, and I apologize, but when you see the length I’m sure you’ll understand. Hope you enjoy! This has taken many months to finish up, so I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to the OC Anon who frequents my blog. You’re the reason I remembered this fic, and therefore the reason it got finished. Rebel, Bird, and Lil’ Bit all thank you for being an instrumental part of their stories being told.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lil’ Bit can’t remember when she became a newsie, but Bird tells her she was no older than four. Bird loves to tell the story of when she went outside to throw out the Saturday evening bathwater and found a tiny girl sitting on the stoop.

“Who are you?” Bird asked.

The girl shrugged. “I’m waitin’ for my mama.”

And that was the sentence that broke Bird’s heart. A few kids had just been left at the lodging house (not many, but a few) and everyone of them was left there under the pretense of their mom running errands.

So Bird threw out the water, grabbed Lil’ Bit’s hand and brought her into the house to introduce her to her new family.

Elmer, who at the time was only six, came up with her name. It was something that his uncle used to call his granddaughter, and Elmer thought the name Lil’ Bit was appropriate. “On account o’ how small she is!” he explained.

Lil’ Bit fit in great. The older girls were her new mamas, the boys her fathers, and all the little ones were her siblings.

“After all,” Bird would remark to the others, “It takes a village to raise a child.”

Usually, Lil’ Bit was the first one awake, but this morning Bird was the one to wake her. SHe instructed her to be quiet with a finger pressed to her lips as she led the sleepy toddler downstairs. Racetrack and Hatter were already waiting, Racetrack laying with his head in his arms on the table and Hatter stirring a large pot of oatmeal.

“Race,” she said. “Wake up, ya bastard.”

“‘M not a bastard,” he slurred. “M’parents was married.”

Bird laughed tiredly as she took two bowls from Hatter and sat them in front of Race and Lil’ Bit. She had crawled into his lap and was blinking slowly from her spot on his chest. The two began sleepily eating as Hatter gave Bird a run-down of what he wanted them to accomplish that day.

“Make sure not to get caught in Brooklyn after dark. Red never took kindly to visitors anyways, and I’m sure that now he feels his territory slipping he won’t like them any more now than he did.” Hatter stood, depositing their bowls in the nearby sink. “Make sure to talk to Arrow, she says our boys have been crossing the lines again.”

Bird nodded, making a mental note of all of it. By the time Hatter had finished his list for the day Race and Lil’ Bit had sufficiently awoken and were bickering playfully. Bird led the way to the washroom and began brushing her teeth and other things to get ready as Race shaved on the other side of the washroom. Lil’ Bit got ready beside her, the two moving in sync like a well-oiled machine.

Then it was hair time, Lil’ Bit’s least favourite part. “Hold still!” Bird exclaimed. “If you can’t sit still, I won’t let you go with me today!”

Lil’ Bit pouted but sat. Wherever Bird went, Lil’ Bit was there, and she refused to be stuck selling with a stinky boy today.

“I don’t have time to re-do it today if it comes out, so we gotta take extra precautions, alright honey?” she muttered to the child. “We don’t wanna make Racetrack have to wait up on us while I fix your hair now do I?”

Lil’ Bit shook her head as Bird finished, placing the slightly too big newsie cap over the top of the girl’s head. Looking up she saw Racer and smiled. “Watch her for a bit, would ya? I gotta find my own cap and fasten it to my head. Wind’s been awful here lately and I don’t wanna lose it.”

Race nodded and picked up the little girl, swinging her up in the air.

“Racer!” she screamed. He laughed and bent to pick her up.

“Are you ready to go?” Race asked. Lil’ Bit nodded vehemently. “So when we leaves the house, that means you hold mine or Birdie’s hand, you got that? We don’t want you gettin’ lost.”

Lil’ Bit nodded solemnly. He looked at her for a moment to drive the point home and then began tickling her mercilessly. She screamed and twisted in his arms, nearly knocking the both of them to the floor. After he was done, Race took his hands from her waist as though to set her down, but she just clung tighter to his neck. Race made over exaggerated choking noises as he pleaded with her to let go.

Bird walked up quietly and smacked Race with her hat. “Be quiet, the rest of the house ain’t up yet!”

He mimed zipping his lips with a grin.

Bird rolled her eyes. “Alright, ragamuffins, let’s get a move on. You know we have to be home in time for the evenin’ edition tomorrow,” she said, fixing her newsies cap over her straight blonde bob. If not for the dress, one could assume she was a boy. She glanced at the two and gave Lil’ Bit a look. “Lil’ Bit, get off Race. If you choke him to death we can’t go out today.”

Lil’ Bit immediately let go and fell a few inches to the floor before scampering over to grab Bird’s hand. The morning bell rang out into the cool morning as the three of them left the house, the older ones with a newsies bag over one shoulder. Lil’ Bit skipped along, singing a song she had no doubt learned from one of the older boys. Bird gave Race a side-eye glance and he looked away guiltily when her song turned into a drinking song.

Their first stop was to the Bronx, to see Socks and Maple. Arrow had sent a little boy over saying some of the ‘Hattan newsies had been encroaching on their territory, and she wanted something done about that. The three of them walked for a while as the city came to life. They beat any other newsies to the street, except for two Harlem boys. They stopped and talked for a minute, but Harlem had no problems. The messengers gave them a gift for some of the other boroughs which Race placed in his bag.

When they reached the Bronx, Bird grabbed Lil’ Bit’s hand to keep her from running off. They had to find exact streets, and it was not a good time to lose her. Bird found the street name and pulled the other two down the alley towards Arrow ’ headquarters. Socks and Maple waited outside.

“Hiya!” Bird waved. Socks glared while Maple gave her a smile and a wave back.

“Racetrack,” Socks acknowledged coldly. The first few times he’d been on scout duty he’d tried to scare her and received a black eye for his troubles. She was still wary around him.

“Socks,” he said, tone full of mirth.

Socks nodded and looked over at Lil’ Bit. “Who’s that?”

Lil’ Bit grinned up at the sisters. “I’m Lil’ Bit!”

“I’m Maple,” Maple introduced, stooping to the child’s level. “That’s my sister, Socks. How old are you?”

Lil’ Bit held up four fingers. “Five!”

Bird laughed. “Another finger, Lil’ Bit.”

But Lil’ Bit was already occupied playing with some sticks and rocks on the ground. Maple and Bird exchanged a few more pleasantries, while Socks glared at Race who kept his perpetual grin on his face the whole time. After the girls were done talking, Maple lead the way in.

Lil’ Bit held Race’s hand the whole way. He picked her up once Arrow appeared in the room at the end of the dark hall. She wasn’t very tall, and she would never hurt a child, but she still managed to intimidate him a bit. Maybe that’s why he was always so quick and harsh with his tongue when around her.

“Manhattan,” she greeted.

“Bronx,” Race and Bird answered. She nodded, and they all took a chair in the circle in the middle of the room. Socks and Maple left, leaving the three (and Lil’ Bit) in an empty room.

“So, what’s going on in the Bronx?” Race asked.

Arrow sighed. “Your damn newsies on our turf again. I don’t know when or how they get over here, but I’se see at least three a day. And I stay pretty central to the area.”

Bird nodded. “Any specific people seem to be showing up a lot?”

Arrow nodded. “Well, there’s Minty, Noodles, Spoons, and Slugger,” she said, counting them off on her fingers. “They’s here almost every day, no matter how many warnings they get. Some of my girls have soaked Minty and Slugger a few times, but they keep coming back.”

Race nodded. “That explains the bruises.”

Arrow raised an eyebrow. “So you knew they were here?”

Race shook his head. “No, I thought they’d just had a run-in with the Delancey’s or had an argument. Thought they was on their own turf.”

Bird sat back and considered. “We’ll have a talk with Hatter, and he’ll probably give a talk this week to the boys. We’ll send a messenger, and after that, if it's one of our kids, soak ‘em on sight. They knows better.”

Arrow nodded. “It's hard enough as is. People don’t wanna buy from girls, thinks it unladylike for them to sell or something. I think it's rubbish, but there’s a reason the boys make more sellin’ than the girls do. Thankfully, they all split without much promptin.’”

Race exhaled. “We’s real sorry ‘bout our boys. Like Birdie said, they oughta know better.”

Arrow stood. “Just don’t let it happen again. And some of your boys may come back soaked in both senses of the word.”

Bird laughed. “They deserve it. Just don’t let ‘em drown, alright, Arrow ?”

Arrow glanced at Race as he stood. “Fine.”

Bird laughed gleefully, and Lil’ Bit joined in. Race laughed too, but a bit more nervously than she had. Arrow saw them out, and the sun sat a little lower than midway.

Bird fished a pocket watch out of her dress. “We got time ta grab some lunch before we need to book it to Queens. The Harlem visit threw our time off, and we need to make through Brooklyn before nightfall. You know how unkindly Red takes to overnight visitors.”

Race shivered. “Yeah, and we don’t want to spend the night carrying the banner again. We do that enough during the day.”

Bird sighed wistfully. “Oh bed, how I’ve missed you.”

Race laughed and knocked her with his arm playfully. “I’m sure it misses you too,” he laughed.

Bird looked down at Lil’ Bit, who was still chomping happily on her sandwich. The two older ones had agreed to spoil her, and she had half of the sandwich that they’d bought. Race and Bird split the other half and dug into some of the gifts Hatter had given them for the other boroughs. Of course, Brooklyn’s gifts remained untouched. Not even Spunk, king of Queens, wanted to mess with Red.

“Like your sandwich?” Race asked.

Lil’ Bit nodded enthusiastically, some of the lettuce spilling from her mouth. “Ifs eal goof,” she said around a mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Bird reprimanded. Race laughed.

“Yous such a muddah,” he remarked.

“Least you got one now,” she returned.

“I had a perfectly good one, thank you very much,” he said.

Bird raised an eyebrow. “Well, what’d ya do with her?”

Race thought for a split second. “Traded her for a box o’ peaches.”

Bird’s eyebrow rose higher. “Hope we don’t see any peaches today, Lil’ Bit and I might get traded away.”

Race laughed. “Nah, I love Lil’ Bit too much,” he said, patting the girl’s hat. “You on the other hand . . .”

Bird took off her hat and smacked Race on the arm. “Asshole.”

Race just grinned.

They made it through Queens with no problem and got a good parting gift from them for both Hatter and Red. Even though Manhattan was small, it was still well respected. Mostly because Hatter took the time to maintain good relationships with the other boroughs.

Bird looked at her watch again. “We have six hours ‘til sunset, and we gotta get all the way through Brooklyn, and Red’s probably gonna keep us at least an hour. If you see a wagon or a trolley we can hitch a ride on, point it out.”

Race and Lil’ Bit nodded. He was carrying her on his back, and Bird had the two bags. They alternated between sprinting and walking, trying to get to Brooklyn as fast as they could.

They were panting by the time they reached the border and saw two Brooklyn scouts waiting. Rebel, Red’s second in command, was leaned against a wall while her apprentice, Spot, played with marbles at her feet. When Rebel and Bird made eye contact, she tapped Spot with her boot. He looked up, saw Race and Bird and jumped up to follow Rebel as she walked towards them.

“Manhattan,” Rebel greeted.

“Brooklyn,” Bird replied. The boys just nodded to each other in greeting.

The girls broke the stoic act and reached over to hug each other. They’d been friends for years, and had been newsies together until Rebel accepted Red’s offer to switch boroughs.

“How’re things in Manhattan? How’s the new kids?” Bird and Rebel hooked arms and began walking into the city.

Race sat Lil’ Bit down so they could begin to walk behind the girls.

“Who’re you?” Spot asked.

Lil’ Bit shied into Race’s leg. Race sighed. “That’s Lil’ Bit. She’s usually not like this.”

“I’m Spot!” Spot said. He grinned, showing that one of his front teeth had been knocked out.

“Hey! You lost a tooth!” Race exclaimed. “When’d that happen?”

Spot grinned even larger. “Yesterday! Got in a fight with some Queen’s boys and they knocked my tooth out. It was already loose, though, so it didn’t hurt too bad.”

Race smiled. “D’ya get anythin’ for it?”

“A peppermint stick under my pillow this morning.” He pulled it out of his pocket. “Want some?”

Race grinned. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Spot said, breaking it in half. He gave half to Race and stuck the other part in his mouth. Lil’ Bit let go of Race’s hand and scampered up to Bird and Rebel before he could break off a piece for her. He shrugged and popped it in his mouth.

“It's been ages since I’ve had candy,” Race said.

Spot took it out to speak. “Me too. Forgot how good it tasted.”

The two pairs passed the time in easy conversation, much better than it would be once they reached the Brooklyn lodging house. Red was notorious for discouraging relationships between other boroughs for any reasons other than business. He never said why, and anyone who asked got soaked.

They arrived in sight of the docks, and conversation ceased. Spot moved up to Rebel’s side at her bidding, and Race grabbed Lil’ Bit’s hand and moved behind Bird. They all felt the eyes of the other Brooklyn newsies watching them from their perches on the docks. Several on the top of some crates had slingshots aimed at the visitors. Race shifted to shield Lil’ Bit.

“Manhattan,” Red’s voice boomed from the stacks.

“Brooklyn,” Bird greeted.

“I see Hatter still sends a girl to do a man’s work.”

Rebel stood a little straighter. Spot glanced up at her.

“Only the best for you, Red,” Bird returned, glancing at the ‘archers.’

Red laughed. “If only that were true. Come in.”

Two newsies at the bottom stepped out, and a hole opened in the crates. The Manhattan newsies stepped forward as the Brooklyn newsies fell in behind them. Lil’ Bit waved at a boy. He did not wave back. Race pulled her closer to his side as they moved farther into Brooklyn’s territory. “So,” Red started, “any gifts?” Bird nodded and motioned for Race to get them out of his bag. He pulled out a few objects and stepped forward, handing them to the leader. Red looked them over before handing them to a kid with an eyepatch. Race watched them warily.

“Could I have my bag back?” Race asked.

Red laughed but didn’t answer. He led the way farther into the building, newsies peeling away the farther they went. Both Bird and Race knew that they didn’t go far.

Red’s hold on Brooklyn had been shaky for the last few months, and everyone could sense that a new leader wouldn’t be long coming. Bird just hoped the revolution didn’t happen while they were still in Brooklyn, she and Race would have enough trouble getting out on their own, but this trip they had to worry about Lil’ Bit too.

“So,” Red said, taking a seat at a table in the centre of the kitchen. Bird and Race picked seats opposite him. “What’s happening in Manhattan?”

Bird shrugged as Race placed Lil’ Bit in his lap. “Got a few new kids, nothing much. How’s Brooklyn?”

“Stronger than ever,” Red replied, tone steely and cold. Rebel seemed to fade out of the shadows, standing with arms crossed behind her boss. Bird glanced over at her, seemingly surprised by her appearance. Red smirked.

“That’s . . . good,” Bird replied. “Got any griefs with us?”

“A few,” Red said. He launched into a tirade about things that he felt Manhattan could do better. Bird nodded along sympathetically, smiling as he ranted. Race had to struggle not to fall asleep.

They left Brooklyn three hours later, much later than they had intended. The sun was dipping below the horizon, but they didn’t dare stop to stay in Brooklyn. They could tell from Red’s tone that he was running a tight ship, much tighter than he usually ran it. If he wouldn’t take overnight visitors a few months ago, he certainly wasn’t going to take them now.

The two teens walked across Brooklyn until they made it to the docks for ferries to Staten Island. They snuck aboard a ferry and made it across the channel before sneaking off again. Lil’ Bit was falling asleep on her feet, so Bird picked her up and carried her on her back. The Island scouts, Mary and Chess were waiting on them. They walked them back to their lodging house, where all three crawled into a bunk together and promptly fell asleep.

Lil’ Bit woke before Race and Bird, per their usual schedule. She crawled over Bird and went to the bathroom on autopilot. But when she stumbled into a wall she opened her eyes all the way and realized she had no idea where she was. She let out a cry and stumbled backwards. She couldn’t see Bird, or Race, or Smalls or Sniper! Where was she?

Confused, and still muddled by sleep, Lil’ Bit wandered outside the house. The bright lights confused her more, and she started crying. Panicked, she took off in a run.

Rebel went to the distribution gates, Spot standing quietly beside her. She picked up a stack of 150 papers and hoisted them onto her shoulder. She and Spot walked out of the gates and towards the pier. A lot of Staten Island kids had been trying to sneak onto their turf, so naturally Red sent his toughest kids there.

Spot took his usual 70 papers and moved away from Rebel. They began hawking their wares, yelling the headlines to any passersby.

“THREE MEN FOUND STABBED IN BOWERY!” Rebel called. Three businessmen came and passed her a penny each. She tipped her hat to each one, depositing the pennies in her pocket. They made a nice jingling sound.

“Hey, kid!” someone called. Rebel turned, assuming they meant her. Apparently, she assumed correctly, as she saw a man come jogging towards her.

“Sir?” Rebel asked.

“There’s a kid on the ferry, didn’t know if you’d know who she belonged to. Keeps crying about a bird . . .”

Rebel’s eyes widened. “Show me.”

Her tone was commanding, even to adults, and the man hurriedly started off again. He led her to a ferry, where another very confused man was standing, holding a squealing child in his arms.

“Hey, Lil’ Bit?” Rebel called. The child’s head snapped up, and Rebel’s suspicions were confirmed. Lil’ Bit was in his arms, crying up a storm. When she saw Rebel she waved her arms at the teen and started squirming in an attempt to get down.

Rebel walked forward and took her from the ferryman’s arms. Lil’ Bit clung to her neck and sobbed into her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Rebel said to the two men. “Sorry about this.”

They tipped their hats to her. “Not a problem, Miss. Just glad the little tyke got back safe.”

Rebel nodded again in thanks and bent to pick up her papers. She started walking in Spot’s general direction, hoping to catch him before he became swamped. She found him a bit later, trying to convince a mother to buy from him. Lil’ Bit had calmed down considerably, and Rebel took a moment to watch the boy. She rolled her eyes fondly when he finally sold the pape.

“SPOT!” she called. His head snapped up, and he saw her across the morning crowd. He scooped up his papers and ran towards her, alarm clear on his face.

“What's wrong, Rebel?” He skidded to a stop in front of her.

“I need you to go to Staten Island and find Bird and Race. Lil’ Bit wandered ovah here somehow, and they’s gotta be worried sick. Can you do that?”

Spot saluted and handed his papers off to Rebel. He took off towards the ferries, being out of sight in a few seconds. Rebel looked at the stack of papers in her hand, well over a hundred, and winced. It would be hard to sell that many, but she would have to. Neither she nor Spot could afford to take a hit that hard, especially after she bought that peppermint stick for Spot.

She set up shop on a street corner, selling as hard as she could. A few people took pity on her and the baby and gave her an extra penny or two. She made sure to smile at those. More than a few people, however, turned their nose up at her. This was something she was used to (the short hair, pants, and sharp tongue were not particularly fetching traits for a girl of her age) but it seemed worse now that she had a child on her hip.

She's not my kid! Rebel wanted to yell, but she knew it would do no good. Those people would be gone in a heartbeat, and she would have to yell it again. So instead she worked on selling her papers.

“MAN FOUND STABBED IN BOWERY!” she yelled. Three people stopped to buy one. “Thanks, mistah.”

“Rebel?” someone said. Rebel turned around, and her heart sank.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Hey, Crack! What's up?”

He stared at Lil’ Bit, completely ignoring her greeting. “What's she doin' here?”

“There was an emergency-” Rebel began, but Crack cut her off.

“You know the boss ain't gone like this . . .”

“Please don't tell, Crack,” Rebel said. “It's just for a few hours!”

“Begging?” Crack sneered. “That's not very Brooklyn of you.”

Rebel could feel herself start losing her patience. “Need I remind you that I'm Second Brooklyn?”

“Need I remind you that First Brooklyn and I get along veeeery well?” Crack said. “Something like this might change his opinion on his choice in seconds.”

“You wouldn't -” Rebel hissed.

“Oh but I would,” he said. He smacked his hands together quickly. “Boys!”

Immediately, upwards of ten boys emerged from the shadows. Two grabbed Lil’ Bit, who had begun screaming, and the rest grabbed Rebel. She managed to land a few hits on them, but they wrenched her arms behind her and held her tight. She struggled in their grip, but they held tight as they marched across Brooklyn.

As they walked, other newsies began peeling away from their selling spots. The implication that something had happened to Rebel was far too important to ignore. She swore and spit and struggled the whole way, but nothing she did could get them to release her.

Red stood at the docks near Manhattan, waiting. He had a cane in his hand, the Brooklyn symbol of power. Rebel felt a cold weight settle in her stomach as she stared at his back. Crack snapped his fingers, and they released Rebel, shoving her forward so that she fell on the ground.

“Rebel.” His tone was cold, colder than she’d ever heard. “I hear you have betrayed me.”

“Red, I swear, whatever they said-”

“SILENCE!” he roared, slamming the cane down on the crate. Immediately she shut her mouth. Red turned and looked over her, still lying on the ground. He climbed down the crates walking forward until his boots were level to her face. Slowly she looked up until the two made eye contact.

“Stand.”

She did.

“Crack, her crimes please.”

Crack stepped forward, a crazy and lopsided grin on his face. “Harbouring a non-Brooklyn. Sneaking over the bridge every night. Maintaining friendships outside of Brooklyn for reasons other than treaties. Protecting Manhattan when Manhattan screwed up. Selling more than she is allowed. Buying sweets for anyone other than herself. Disrespecting her commanding officer. Swearing inside the Lodging House. Skipping selling on Sundays to go to church. Protecting younger newsies from their dues.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Red said.

Rebel sat silent.

“How many of these are you guilty of?”

She said nothing.

“ANSWER ME!” Red yelled. A drop of his spit landed on her face.

“I plead the fifth,” she finally said.

Red laughed, a dry and humourless sound. “That’s real cute, sweetheart. You think this is a courtroom!” He walked around her slowly, looking her up and down before once again stopping in front of her. He regarded her silently for a moment before reaching forward and grabbing her by the collar. Her crucifix caught in his fist and the bunch of fabric, and her breath hitched as he pulled her close to his face. “This is my court. I am the king here, and you will answer to me. No one can save you. I am lawyer, judge, and jury. Answer. How many are you guilty of?”

Rebel took a breath. “If any of those are crimes, then I am guilty of all of them.”

Spot ran across Staten Island, hardly stopping. He knew exactly where the house was, and he was trying to get there as fast as possible. He didn’t know exactly what would happen if Red found out about Lil’ Bit, but he had a vague idea. And he knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

He ran into the Lodging House, slamming the door against the wall at his entrance. “Where’re Bird and Race?”

A few kids were in the lobby and looked up, startled at his entrance. One of the teenagers pointed upstairs, and Spot ran towards them, taking them two at a time. He burst into another room, where all conversation promptly ceased.

“Spot?” Bird asked. Everyone in the room stared at him, confused.

“Lil’ Bit’s in Brooklyn,” he said through heavy panting. “With Rebel. Gotta get her out now.”

Immediately the two Manhattan newsies stood to their feet. “Spot, where in Brooklyn?”

“Docks,” he said. “Staten docks. Hurry.”

Bird and Race shoved their hats on their heads and grabbed Bird’s bag. They started to say the formal goodbyes to Check, but she just shooed them away and told them to find the kid.

“Red’ll be pissed,” she said. “And that is something none of us need.”

With a quick thanks, the three newsies bolted out the door and onto the street. They ran through, pushing past people in their haste. More than a few adults yelled, but they couldn’t be bothered. They had something much more important to do.

They crawled onto a ferry and hid in the baggage carrier. Race’s foot stuck out and nearly got them caught, but he pulled it in just in time. They sat silently the whole ride, each wondering how bad of a mess they’d gotten in to.

Spot lead the way off the ferry and they followed him to where he’d left Rebel and Lil’ Bit.

“Rebel!” he called. “Where are you?”

Race fiddled with his cap. “Bird, I don’t feel so good about this.”

“Rebel!” she called. “Lil’ Bit!”

“‘Ey, Bird! Come look at this!” Spot was standing next to a building corner, waving his hat up in the air so she could find him in the crowd. The other two newsies ran to him, and he pointed to a stack of papers that were left on the ground.

“These is Rebel’s,” he said. “But Rebel ain’t here.”

“Where else would she be?” Bird asked. “She wouldn’t have just abandoned her papes, especially since she knew we was coming . . .”

“What if she didn’t leave them . . .” Race said.

“Oh shit,” Spot muttered. “We gotta go. C’mon!”

He took off running again, and the other two followed. He led the way through alleys and across streets, cutting in front of bulls, wagons, and important city folk. Race and Bird tore after him, having a little trouble keeping up, despite the fact that they both had longer legs. They didn’t pass a single newsie the entire journey.

Red pushed Rebel with the fist previously entangled in her shirt, and she fell to the ground. The air rushed from her lungs as her back hit the dirt and she immediately began gasping to fill the void.

Red paced, cane tapping the ground as he walked. Rebel watched him warily, still breathing heavily. His jaw clenched as he walked.

“Rebel,” he said through gritted teeth. He turned and looked at her, stomping forward quickly. She scrambled back, but he stepped on her foot, pinning her down. He smacked the cane on her ankle and a loud CRACK! echoed throughout the assembly. She grimaced but refused to cry out.

“I brought you up from nothing!” he yelled. “I found you, cold, shriveling, and starving in the Manhattan streets and brought you here! I made you my right-hand woman, second only to me! You were a queen! Everything was at your feet! And then,” he ground his foot down, “you betrayed me!”

“It wasn’t betrayal,” Rebel whispered. She closed her eyes against the pain, still refusing to scream.

“What was that?”

“It wasn’t betrayal!” she shouted. “I was always loyal to you!”

“Then why didn’t you listen to me?” Red shouted. He stepped off her ankle, but the end of his cane caught her chest, holding her in place. “You disobeyed me!”

“You were asking me to go against everything I stood for!”

“You were supposed to stand for Brooklyn! And Brooklyn alone!”

“I’m more than a borough!”

“Not here, you aren’t,” Red spat. “Here you are Brooklyn, and Brooklyn alone! If you wanted to stand for something else, you should’ve stayed in Manhattan and starved!”

“You’re right,” Rebel said. She propped herself up on her arms. “I should’ve stayed in Manhattan. At least there I would’ve died instead of having to live under your tyranny.”

Red laughed, another humorless sound. “You want to die? Well, you’re about to get your wish.”

Rebel paled.

“Get me some rope!” Red yelled. Rebel stood to her feet and grimaced, but tried to hobble away. Crack grabbed her, however, wrenching her arms behind her and stomping on her broken foot. She screamed and fell limp.

“Rope!” Red screamed again. The crowd mumbled among themselves, but no one moved to get any. “Why is no one getting me a rope, dammit?!”

Nobody moved.

“You!” he screamed, pointing to a boy in the front, who had an eyepatch over his left eye. “Find me some rope!”

The boy gulped. “No.”

Red reeled backwards. “What?”

He steeled himself. “No. I will not contribute to her murder.”

“York,” Rebel breathed.

“It is a deserved death!” Red cried. “She admitted to her crimes herself!”

“They aren’t crimes!” another girl, Rafaela, shouted. She moved forward. “She cares for Brooklyn more than anyone else!”

The crowd murmured in agreement.

“She cared for herself! She betrayed Brooklyn! Get me some rope, dammit! I am your king! You will listen to me!”

“Brooklyn is more than a borough!” another girl yelled. Joey moved to the front to stand with York and Raf. “Brooklyn is all of us. And she cared for us more than you ever did. You were a leader in name, but Rebel is a leader at heart.”

Red huffed. “That’s bullshit! She doesn’t know the first thing about leading!”

“Who fed us when we didn’t sell enough?” York asked.

“Who made sure we all got a bed?” Raf said.

“Who showed us the ropes? Who made sure that your goons didn’t beat the little kids?” Joey asked.

“Who took care of us? The people you ‘ruled’?” York asked. “It sure as hell wasn’t you!”

Red scoffed. “If I didn’t take care of you, then who did?”

“Rebel!” they shouted back.

“She’s more of a leader than you’ll ever be!”

Red let out a mad laugh. “The only way to determine a leader is through combat! And as you can see, I’ve already bested her.” He motioned to where Rebel was standing limply in Crack’s arms. “I’m your true king. And if Rebel is lighting a rebellion against me, then the fire has to be extinguished.”

Spot, Bird, and Race burst through the Brooklyn newsies right as Crack tightened his belt around Rebel’s wrists and pushed her over the side of the pier.

“REBEL!” the three screamed.

Crack made a signal, and the newsie holding Lil’ Bit chucked her over the side as well.

Bird screamed and broke into a run. She pushed past every newsie there and dove over the side of the pier. Race was a split second behind her, having momentarily paused to remove his shoes. They hit the water and dove, following the trail of red through the water.

Spot’s vision tunneled and he saw red. He let out an animalistic scream and tore straight towards Red. Red took a step back, having never seen this child so angry. Usually, Spot was a pretty happy-go-lucky kid, but now he was nothing but a ball of fury.

Spot tackled Red to the ground and immediately drove his fists into the King’s face. Left, right, left, right, each hit planting itself in the center of Red’s face. His lip split beneath Spot’s fists, blood trickling down his face. Red grabbed his cane and hit Spot roughly on the crown of his head.

The hit momentarily stunned Spot enough that Red was able to sit up and throw Spot of off him. Spot hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and Red towered above him.

He stepped forward, and his shadow fell over Spot’s face. From Spot’s place on the ground, all he could see was the silhouette of a boy he had once looked up to. Now all he saw was the dark outline of a teenager who’s mussed hair made him appear as a devil. All Spot could think was how accurate that description was as Red’s cane came down on him again.

Bird kicked frantically, trying to reach Rebel before they both ran out of air. A faint trail of blood came from her head, and Bird was afraid she would pass out before she could reach her.

Race’s arms wrapped around Lil’ Bit and he kicked them both to the surface. Panicked, Lil’ Bit kicked and wriggled, her tiny fists hitting him in the face several times. They broke the surface, and Race took a deep breath. Lil’ Bit drew in a large gulp of air and immediately began screaming to raise the dead.

Race swam over to a ladder, whispering soothing words to Lil’ Bit as they moved. She eventually calmed down, and he climbed the ladder. He held the little girl close to his chest and patted her hair, whispering sweet nothings to her as she sobbed on his shirt.

Spot raised his arms to block Red’s next hit. It did no good, however, as Red hit him in the gut. Spot grimaced and rolled on his side, immediately coughing up a mouthful of blood. The cane came down again, and Spot groaned, low and guttural.

“Stop, stop,” Spot said.

“Do you give up?” Red sneered.

“No,” Spot said. “I want to challenge you for Brooklyn.”

Rebel’s eyes snapped open. She immediately began struggling against the belt that bound her wrists and began kicking. Her ankle screamed in pain, but she kept on. She felt something wrap around her waist and turned to see Bird in the water.

Bird began messing with the belt, trying to loosen it from Rebel’s wrists. After struggling for a few moments the leather fell off, and the two girls kicked their way to the surface. They broke the water and both took loud gasps of air. They tread water for a moment before hearing a sentence that stopped their blood cold.

“I want to challenge you for Brooklyn.”

Rebel’s eyes widened and she swam forward. She pulled herself up on the pier, dripping wet. “SPOT!” she screamed, but it was too late. Red had thrown his cane on the ground and was now squaring up to fight Spot.

Spot stood to his feet and raised his hands to be level with his head. The two danced around each other, each wiping blood off their faces.

Red punched first, a strong right hook. But Spot saw it coming and ducked under it. He reached forward with two fingers and poked Red in the eyes. Red stumbled backwards and Spot reached up with the palm of his right hand and jammed it into Red’s nose.

Red swore loudly as Spot stepped forward. He stomped on Red’s foot and looked the previous king dead in the eyes.

“This is for Rebel,” he muttered before pushing Red’s hips with all the strength he could muster. Red’s leg snapped as he fell backwards and he screamed out in pain. Spot let off his foot and sat down on his waist.

He pinned Red’s arms and looked down at the crying king with at least two broken bones.

“Surrender, and I’ll let you live,” Spot said.

“Never,” Red spat.

Spot shrugged. “Fine.”

He stood and stomped down on Red’s stomach with all the strength he could muster. Red screamed out once again before Spot stomped on his mouth. He started crying harder.

“Surrender,” Spot said.

Red shook his head.

Spot shoved him off the pier.

Red sank like a stone.

Race saw Spot and Red on the end of the pier. Spot said something, but he was too far away to hear. Red shook his head no, and Spot pushed him over the edge.

Red made a huge splash as he hit the water. He didn’t come back up for air.

Two more boys dove off the dock as Spot watched. A few minutes later they pulled Red up on the pier and pumped his chest. After several minutes of this, they sat back on their heels in defeat. They talked among themselves for a few minutes before they picked Red back up and threw him back in the bay.

Race crawled up the ladder, Lil’ Bit clinging to his neck. The two walked up to the stunned crowd. No one said anything as the two soaking wet newsies joined the crowd surrounding Spot.

After several moments of silence, Spot bent down and picked up Red’s discarded cane. He tucked it into his suspenders, but it was too long and scraped the ground as he walked. Slowly, Spot turned to face his new subjects.

“Long live Spot!” York shouted. “Long live the king!”

The crowd took up the chant, all shouting variations of York’s chant. Spot let a small smile appear on his face as he drank it in for a moment. However, after about five cheers, he raised his arms in a ‘be quiet’ gesture. The crowd immediately silenced, eager to hear the first declaration of their new king.

“I’m honoured,” he started. “Really, I am. But this ain’t mind,” he said, shaking the cane. “I know I fought Red and all that shit, but that’s only ‘cause Rebel was in the water. And she had a broke foot. I know she woulda beat ‘im way before I did, but she wanted to make sure I was protected first. She knew that on the very small chance she lost they’d take it out on me, and she didn’t want that. And like York and Raf and Joey said, Brooklyn is more than a borough. And if anyone embodies Brooklyn, it's Rebel.”

At this Raf and Joey broke into cheers. The rest of the group joined them, cheering even louder when Bird and Rebel limped forward to take the cane from Spot. He bowed slightly as he handed it over, and Rebel laughed and bopped him lightly on the head with it. He smiled up at her, and she reached down to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Spot,” she whispered in his ear.

“You deserve it,” he whispered back.

Two months later and it was time for the Brooklyn newsies to make the rounds of the boroughs. They had new messengers now that Crack and a few others had been disposed of. In their place came Rafaela and Spot.

They were greeted with hugs at the door of the Manhattan Lodging House. The sun was going down and they agreed to spend the night and discuss business in the morning.

Spot and Race decided to double up on the latter’s bunk. He had a top bunk, so the two climbed up and huddled together under the covers. They looked at each other and dissolved into giggles, both having had just a bit of the alcohol that Hatter had managed to smuggle in.

“I’m glad Rebel is king of Brooklyn now,” Spot said.

“She’s a girl, nitwit,” Race said, smacking Spot on the chest. “She’s queen of Brooklyn!”

“Nuh-uh!” Spot protested. “Rebel says that’s bullshit. She’s king same as Red was, same as I’ll be.”

Race grew silent. “Same as you’ll be?”

Spot nodded emphatically. “I’m prince o’ Brooklyn r’now. She’s training me to be king. Kinda like Red did to her. But better.”

“Are ya gonna . . . y’know?”

“Know what?”

“Kill her? Like you did Red?”

Spot snorted. “‘Course not. We’re getting rid of that ritual. It’s stupid.”

Race visibly relaxed. “Good.”

“Yeah, it is,” Spot agreed. He yawned loudly before burrowing deeper into the covers. “‘Night, Racey.”

Race smiled. “‘Night Princey.”

Y’all. This is 7,161 words. I think this is the most I have written for one story. I first created this story on February 5th, and it is now reaching it’s conclusion. I feel it is only fitting to end Girlsies Week 2018 with a story about my two original girlsies, Rebel and Bird.

As I said, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! If you would like to be tagged in any future fics, reblog/like/reply to this post and I’ll add you!

@girlsiesweek @albertdasilva @albertslamb @actually-races-erster @alixismad @ben-cook-can-cook @thebookofbella @broadwayandbookblog @brooklyns-here-enthusiast @bwaysrose @daeynore @daveys-pet-snake @delanceys-pantsies @djrebeldr @elmers-half-a-cup @esyazzmean @fallingoutofpanickedpilotss @fandomscraziness22 @heytheywascoronas @ishouldprobablyworkoutmore @i-got-personality @livingdeadmeme @marvelmerlinao3 @mcoomcoo @newsieofnj @nymphadoratonksx @piercings-and-pearls @racetrackscigar @races-cigar @races-erster @rebecko @santafeismycity @thesmallestbi @spot--conlon @stuckinmyneverendingheadspace @sparkleystallion @spracetrack-higgins @thatshiscigar @wetcoffeee @yokakey-d @yourfriendlyneighborhoodnewsie

76 notes · View notes

broadwaycantdie · 6 years

Text

Smalls Day! - Newsies Month . Day 6

————————————————————————

You Alright? pt. 1

( non-binary smalls ) +

( romeo x smalls : platonic )

warning: none

————————————————————————

“Maybe you could just wear a dress every once in a while? I got you this lovely pink one from the shop and I thought you’d like it.”

“Ma, I told you, I don’t want to be more feminine, I wanna wear whatever I feel and most of the time I don’t feel like either, boy or girl.”

“Well then what are you?”

That phrase killed Smalls. They couldn’t stand that question. “What are you?” It was almost insulting. They’ve explained it a million times to their mother but she never got it. Smalls had went behind their mothers back and cut their hair as short as they could with scissors, it wasn’t good but it made a point. They wore pants more than dresses and somehow was always covered in dirt even though they weren’t allowed outside.

“I’m not a boy or a girl, ma. I just feel different, not both but not neither either. I just, don’t like gender. I want to do whatever and I’m happy with that. Why aren’t you?”

“Sweetheart, you know I love you, I just want to know. I want you to be happy but you don’t understand when people ask me what’s wrong with you. I don’t even know what to say, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? For you? Imagine how I feel! You try to force me to wear dresses, you won’t let me go play with the street boys, you keep me locked in this house away from the world, and you’re embarrassed? Imagine how I feel being asked ‘what are you’ or ‘why don’t you come outside’ or ‘why do you dress like that’!”

“Don’t raise your voice.”

“Why? Why not? Are you afraid someone might hear me and be curious? Afraid someone might ask you some questions you’re too embarrassed to answer? Afraid I might, god forbid, make a friend who accepts me for what I am unlike you? What are you so afraid of, mother?”

“If you hate it here so much then why don’t you go? Go out there and see what it’s like! No one will love you like I do! No one will care for you or help you! People will make fun of you and hurt you! Can’t you see i’m trying to protect you? No one will accept you the way I have!”

“You haven’t!” Smalls screamed loud enough to hush the room.

Their voice went quiet as they turned their back, facing the door.

“And you never will.”

They kept a secret bag packed under their bed for situations exactly like this. Smalls grabbed the bag and started to walk out the door.

“If you walk out that door, don’t you dare try to come back.” Their mother was crying.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

The whole interaction became quiet and there Smalls went, with nothing but a bag and a couple items. They had saved up some dimes but not enough to live for long. They walked the streets. Their head mixed with feelings of happiness for finally getting out of that house and anxiety for what the future held. Was their mother right? Would anyone accept them? Love them? Hurt them?

Smalls whirling thoughts were interrupted by a hard thump. They had fallen to the floor after running into something. They really needed to start looking up when they walked. They’ve learned to keep their head down out of fear of shame and pain. But now they were on their own so who cares? Well, they did, a lot.

“I’m sorry dude, you alright?”

A boy, roughly Small’s age, reached his hand out to help them up.

“You good? Not hurt or anything? Sorry for runnin’ into ya, man, guess I just didn’t see ya there.”

Smalls took the boys hand and stood up, keeping their head down. Even with that, they could easily make out what this boy looked like. He was pretty short, still taller than Smalls, but not by that much. He was pretty tanned and had nice, dark brown eyes. He had long socks, work boots, suspenders, a hat already covered in dirt, and a bag. Smalls was forced inside everyday so they were new to the outside world. Not completely oblivious, but not that aware either.

The boy kept saying things like “man” and “dude” and Smalls didn’t really mind. It was better than being called “sweetie” or “lady”, but it still didn’t feel right. They figured they’d let it go, thinking they’d never see this man again, until he brought up a conversation.

“So....” The boy turned on his charm.

“You wanna buy a pape? The headline today is...”

“Wait. You sell what?”

“Papes. Papers. Newspapers. You wanna buy or what?”

“How much?”

“Depends. How much ya got?”

“Uh, I got a dime.”

“A dime, huh? Well lucky for you, that how much it costs.”

“Uh, okay, here ya go...sir.”

Smalls took a newspaper and started to read it. They had been pretty well read, spending most of their time inside, homeschooled by their mother.

“A young kid like you, on the streets, knowing how to read? That’s a sight ya don’t see everyday.”

Smalls never understood how people went through life not knowing how to read. What did they do? How did they get information? Or learn? Or have fun?

“Uh, what do you mean?” Smalls voice was proper and soft, unlike the boy’s, who had a heavy accent and used slang they’ve never heard of.

“Yaint from the streets, are ya, kid?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well I wouldn’t be askin’ if it wasn’t. Where ya from?”

“Uh, well I don’t know why I’m telling you this but I have no one else to talk to so here it goes.”

The boy’s interest was peaked. He raised an eyebrow and listened. Smalls head was still facing the ground. They haven’t looked up.

“Well my mother kicked me out of the house after we got into this big argument, and uh pretty much all I have is a few dimes, this backpack, and now a newspaper. I don’t really know where I’m going cause she said to never come back and I really don’t want to, but I’m gonna try to figure it out as I go I guess.”

Smalls took a deep breath out, being happy to get that off their chest. They looked at the boy, who seemed confused.

“So let me get this straight.” He started, looking down to try to catch Small’s face.

“You and ya ma got in a fight, ya got kicked out and told not to come back, aight? Then ya come wondering the streets looking for who knows what. Ya got barely enough money to feed yaself for more than a couple days, nowhere to sleep, no one to talk to, and I’m assuming maybe two outfits, maximin. Am I right?”

“Pretty much, yeah. But when you put it like that, it makes it sound like a bad thing.”

“Man, let me tell yous, it’s hard out here. I mean, I’m 16 working my ass off just to try to eat day to day. No blood family, and I share a house with a bunch of other people so livings a bit tight. Are you sure this is what ya wanna do? Yous can always go back and talks to ya mother.”

“See, I can’t, she’ll never accept me and she’ll never understand my life. This is what I want.”

The boy sighed a long sigh. He did all he could but if the kid wanted this life, he was gonna help. He heald his hand out and smiled widely.

“My name is Romeo.”

Smalls paused for a moment and then began to smile and took his hand.

“And I’m...”

They paused a moment, they’d never go by their birth name, they hated it so much. They needed a good nickname, and quick. They wanted something gender-neutral but also nice to say and it had to fit their personality. So, they said the first thing that came it their head.

“Smalls.”

“Nice to meet ya, Smalls. Welcome to the family.”

“The family?”

“Well since ya gonna be out here, might as well not be alone, right? I’ll intrude ya to the rest of the family as soon as the day is over. You can stay here with me while I finish up sellin’ then we’ll go. Sound good, dude?”

Smalls didn’t want to ruin the friendship they just made by correcting him with pronouns. So they just ignored it and agreed. Nicknames like that didn’t bother them that much but they wanted him to know ‘they/them’ was the best things to use. They just thought it could wait, for now.

So there Smalls sat, on a curb in a new part of town they’ve never been to. Watching his new friend sell newspapers to random strangers. Shouting headlines, flirting person to person, and getting coin after coin.

The day came to an end and Smalls didn’t realize they drifted off to sleep on a curb. They were so tired. They didn’t notice until they woke up the next morning in a bed. How’d they get there? Where were they? What happened? Was everything just a dream? Would their mother walk right through the door any minute?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” The voice sounded soft and happy. They sort of recognized it too, maybe it wasn’t all a dream?

“R-Romeo?” Smalls called out quietly.

“I’m glad ya remember. Ya knocked out pretty hard yesterday, like ya haven’t slept in days.”

“What time is it? Where am I? Who’s bed am I in? Wh-“

“Woah, woah, calm down, buddy. Let’s get ya cleaned up and then I’ll answer any question ya got.”

Romeo guided Smalls to the washroom, letting them have their privacy to bathe and take everything in. They noticed two piles of clothes laying on the counter. One was a dress with socks and a sweater. The other was a flannel, capris slacks, suspenders, very long socks, and a hat. They found a note between them saying “Smalls, we didn’t know which one you would want, so we brought both.” Smalls almost cried looking at the note. They put on the second outfit, shoving the note in their pocket and walking out the door. Romeo had been sitting in the main room, waiting ever so patiently.

“Will you answer my questions now?”

“Take a seat.”

25 notes · View notes