Archive of Our Own ^beta

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DAY ONE: “PLEASE DONT CRY.” LAMB TO SLAUGHTER / CEREMONY / BEG FOR FORGIVENESS

(This ones not to bad- don’t worry. But for the others…not promises.)

    “Davey PLEASE!” Jack cried as he chased the taller boy out of Medda’s theatre. They had let them use the theatre for their rally- and Jack just had to mess it all up. Or so- that’s what all the newsies thought, at least.

    In all honesty, it was the last thing Jack wanted to do. He didn’t want to scab. Jack had been blacklisted by Pulitzer to get him to do this, he didn’t want that money. With the money still in his pocket, it felt so much more dirty now that he could feel it almost weighing him down.

    “Leave me alone. I don’t wanna hear it.” Davey said, not even bothering to look back at Jack as he finally caught up to him; out of breath.

    To say that Davey was pissed off would be an understatement. All he needed was a little bit of convincing from Jack and that was all he needed to be the co-leader of the strike. He trusted Jack. And now? Here Jack was walking along side him like a loyal dog- begging for forgiveness.

    “Davey I can promise you that I had my reasons to do what I did back there. I just need you to list-”

    “Listen to WHAT?!” Davey said while turning around to face Jack, taking a good two steps backwards away from the shorter boy. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with him right now. He had let his stupid feelings get in the way of this whole thing and now its come back to stab him in the back.

    Jack paused. He didn’t know what to say. (If he was being honest, he didn’t think he’d even make it this far.)

    He stumbled over his words.

    “Exactly. Go. Away.” Davey just turned back around and started the walk home. He just wanted to crawl into a ball, cry, and then die. And maybe, Jack would finally leave him alone. But we don’t always get what we want.

    “Davey. Please.” Jack said while his voice cracked. He meant what he said. He meant it with everything he had. He just hoped that Davey would believe him.

    Davey just kept walking. He hated how much he wanted to believe Jack, but he still didn’t have it in him to do so.

    Davey wouldn’t believe Jack would do such a thing. He couldn’t, and he really didn’t. But at the same time…he just couldn’t believe him.

    Jack had just taken Davey’s hand and stopped him from going any further. He didn’t know what else to do. 

    The two of them both hated how much they hated how the blush crept up both of their necks and up to their cheeks.

    Neither let go.

    Davey finally looked back at Jack for the first time in what looked like forever, noticing the boys tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes.

    “Please.” Jacks voice was shaking and unstable. He might have as well been begging on his knees at this point.

    Davey dragged the two of them into the closest alley he could find, pining Jack onto the wall. He didn’t mean for it to come off as so aggressive.

    Jack blushed even harder. He didn’t even know that this was possible. His breath hitched.

    Davey shoved back his thoughts he had at the moment and tried to worry about what was going on in the moment. That didn’t last to long until the thoughts were back.

    “You better have a damn good reason why you pulled the shit you did back there.” Davey almost never swore. He didn’t know why he was such a mess right now.

    Jack stumbled over her words for a while before spitting something out. “I-I just…he threatened the newsies. He threatened to put all of us in the refuge.”

    Davey was for once, truly at a loss for words. He had no idea what to say at all.

    “But most importantly…he threatened you. I couldn’t do that to you.”

    Davey was finally able to spit something out. “I…you would do that? For me?” He asked. He couldn’t believe that someone would do something like that for him.

    “Of course, Davey.” Jack started. “I mean…” Jack stopped himself before he could get it out.

    Davey wanted to know what he was going to say. “What? What is it?” He asked, not even taking into account how he still had Jack pinned up against the wall.

    Jack stutters for a quick second before he could even think about saying what he was about to say.

    “I-I like you, Davey. Of course I would do that for you…” Jack allowed himself to trail off, knowing that Davey got the message.

    It took a second for it to click for Davey, but when it finally did…oh it felt amazing.

    “Can I…can I kiss you?” Jack had asked him, hoping for nothing less then a yes.

    Davey didn’t even need to give a response, once those words left Jacks lips, their lips collided within a matter of seconds after Davey checked that the coast was clear.

    Jack had only now taken into account just how much taller Davey was. He had to take his heels off of the ground to be able to reach him.

    And while Davey’s hands cupped his cheeks, and Jacks hands found it’s place in Daveys hair, everything else in the world was silent. For now, nothing else seemed to matter.

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DAY TWO: “YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF NERVE TO DREDGE UP ALL MY FEARS.” PROPHECY / SEWER / TAKING ACCOUNTABILITY

    Spot didn’t know what to do. As he watched the lightning bolt symbol above his head fade away, he brought his head down to face the rest of the camp. For the first time in Spots life, he was scared.

    Spot heard all the tales. He heard the prophecy. About how children of the big three will be born and start this whole war. He knew Percy was claimed by Poseidon not long ago, and him being a child of ZEUS?! Oh how the tables had turned on him.

    This was what Spot had feared. People had said it would be fitting for him to be a child of Zeus, comparing him to Thalia…but he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to take all of that responsibility and accountability for this. Him being the reason a war breaks out was the last thing he wanted.

    He looked over to his boyfriends. The look in Race and Crutchie’s eyes was something that Spot could only describe as pure FEAR. They were petrified. They knew what this meant. They were scared of the war. They were scared for him.

    Spot looked over to Chiron, who still looked at the short boy in shock before he could get anything out of him mouth.

    “Sean Colon, Son of Zeus.”

    The campers kneeled. Everyone followed after Chirons lead. To say that Spot was scared would be an understatement.

    Crutchie and Race were PETRIFIED. While they both knelt, they snuck glances at each other. Looks of only fear and realization as it all sunk it all to well. The two of them didn’t know what the hell was gonna happen.

    Spot was lead back to the Zeus cabin after grabbing his stuff. All he had to say was that the cabin felt empty. Only one persons stuff sat on one of the beds, who he was told was named Thalia. This girl who never made it to camp, in which Zeus turned her into a tree to keep her…somewhat alive. She helps protect the camp.

    Spot just sat on his bed after Chiron left. He didn’t know what to do. His leg was still broken, even after eating all the nectar and ambrosia they gave him in the infirmary. It helped with the pain, sure, but it didn’t heal it.

    Spot just started crying. He never cried. He never let a single tear slip. But now? Being the reason for a war breaking out and not having any idea as to what’s going to come next because of it? PETRIFYING.

    He ducked his head into his pillow. He wanted Race and Crutchie here. He knew that they couldn’t hear him, but still.

    That was until there was a knock at the door.

    “Spot? Hey- it’s Crutchie and Race. Are you alright in there?” Ask and you shall receive, I guess.

    “I-I, yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” Spot said while his voice cracked, desperately trying to wipe away his tears before anyone would see them.

    “You’re lying again.” Spot could hear Racetrack say through the door. He always knew when someone was lying.

    Spot didn’t respond. He knew that Race was right. He wasn’t fine. He didn’t know what else to say. He just let the two of them enter, and as soon as they entered, he was swarmed by the two of them, one on each side.

    Race brought his hand up to cup Spots cheek- and Spot just melted into the touch. He couldn’t keep this in anymore. Crutchie leaned on his shoulder.

    “Spot what’s going on? Is this about-” He motioned to the cabin. Spot just nodded.

    “Oh Spottie…” He said, using his free hand and intertwining it with Spots. “Listen. It’ll all be fine in the end. I’m not letting anything bad happen to the three of us.” Spot and Crutchie managed a smile. Crutchie took Spots over hand and put it in his own.

    “I-it’s ju-just…I can’t d-do this. It’s to muc-much.” Spot almost couldn’t get to words out with how bad he was crying and hyperventilating right now. “E-EVERY-EVERYTHING HU-HURTS. I’m not built o-out for th-this.” Spot hated it when he stuttered over his words like this when he got upset.

    “I get it. But we PROMISE you that nothin’ bad is gonna happen to any of us. Ok?” Crutchie said- trying to hell reassure Spot. He just hummed. Race wiped away the remaining tears on Spots cheeks, hoping that they were right.

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DAY THREE: “I LOOK IN PEOPLES WINDOWS, TRANSFIXED BY ROSE GOLDEN GLOWS.” ISOLATION / CANDLELIGHT / FOUND FAMILY

    Christmas time with the newsies wasn’t usually the best time of year for them.

    But even in between the freezing cold weather with nothing to cover up with, the scummy headlines, and the shortage of money, they still found ways to make it work.

    Jack had always felt isolated, looking into the windows of family’s houses on Christmas Day, seeing all of the family’s open up gifts and seeing the ridiculous smiles on their faces.

    It made him jealous to his core. He hated that it’s not something he could have. Sure, the newsies definitely still all pitched in and saved up to buy- or- in some of their cases- steal something for another. No one left behind.

    He ended up passing by Davey’s house, and he couldn’t help but stare at his boyfriend, who sat on the couch with his legs up to his chest, looking at his sister as she opened her gift.

    He slumped up against the wall in an ally before someone came looking for him.

    Well, that someone had just happened to be Davey, who turned the corner to find him there. He wore a jacket- the one Jack always stole from him despite it being far to big on him. On he streets, no one noticed who’s coat was who’s.

    Jack’s shivering was the first thing that Davey had noticed. “Jack- you’re freezing.” Davey said while taking off his jacket and wrapping it around Jacks shoulders dispirited all of his efforts for him not to.

    “Davey I’se’ll be fine. Not like I’m gonna die back ‘ere or somethin’.” Jack looked away and he could practically feel Davey’s eyes roll despite the fact that he couldn’t see him from the direction he was looking.

    Jack just let himself close his eyes and lean onto Davey’s shoulder, holding onto his arm like his life depended on it. Davey just planted a kiss onto Jacks forehead. (After making sure that no one was looking, of course.)

    Jack was tired. He let himself drift off to sleep the second his head hit Davey’s shoulder.

    Davey carried the shorter boy inside. I mean- he didn’t really have another option, did he?

    Davey was concerned though, based on just how easy it was to lift him up. He had almost no weight on him whatsoever. He placed Jack down onto the couch though, lighting a candle so he could actually see better with how it was starting to get darker out now.

    Davey just sat by Jack, taking his fingers and running then through the other boys hair, wondering what could have been going on for him to be in such a state.

    Jack didn’t know where he was when he woke up. All he knew what that he was a whole lot warmer then he was outside. “Davey…?” He asked as he tried to wake up. He didn’t want to move though, he was far to tired for that. He was stuck taking care of all the other newsies all month at the lodging house. He hadn’t had sleep in DAYS. To say he was exhausted…well, that wasn’t enough to describe just how tired Jack was.

    Davey just sighed. “Oh Jackie…what happened?” He asked, hoping to get an answer. He almost never did. Jack didn’t want to put all his problems on Davey, thinking he could take them on himself. (Spoiler alert: no he can’t.)

    “I’se just…so tired, Davey. Takin’ care of the littles is just…tiring’.” Jack struggled to keep his eyes open. Davey just hummed in an understanding while he later down next to Jack, arms around the other boys waist, keeping him close while Jack turned and buried his face in Davey’s chest.

    “‘’M sorry Davey…I really tried, I did…” Jack mumbled into Davey’s chest. The truth is, this ain’t the first time this has happened. It’s happened more times then the two of them can count, Jack getting over worked like this.

    And that’s how the two of them stayed until Sarah found them the next morning.

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DAY FOUR: “DON’T BE SCARED, IVE DONE THIS BEFORE.” NON-HUMAN WHUMPER / IRON ROD / LOSS OF POWERS

    Spot Colon waking up in the refuge was the last thing he expected while he woke up.

    The refuge is this place where they take kids with powers, and keep them there because they’re deemed as “unfit and dangerous” to society. Spot always said it was bullshit- and it was.

    They quite literally drained the powers from you if they could. Spot always escaped before they got the chance. Because well- who wouldn’t want super cool powers like he had??? And also because the process fucking HURT- but that’s besides the point. He looked over to the window- hearing footsteps come up the fire escape.

    “Spot!” A voice whisper yelled into the small room- this time they decided to keep Spot isolated. Thankfully, this was one of the rooms with a window.

    It was Racetrack. Every time one of them got caught they would always visit each other. This has happened more times then the two of them can count.

    Spot reached out for Racetracks hand. He took it in a heartbeat.

    “I’m so sorry.” Race whispered while his voice cracked, holding on a bit tighter to Spots hand. Spot knew it wasn’t Racers fault he was in here. The previous night- it wasn’t supposed to go this way. They weren’t supposed to have a run in with Snyder. Spot wasn’t supposed to be taken. He tried getting Race to- but Spot shouted at him to run. And with lots of hesitation and a pleading look from Spot…off he went.

    “Hey. It’s not you’re fault. Don’t blame yourself.” Spot tried to be reassuring while he brought his hand up to wipe away the taller boys tears. In all honesty- he couldn’t blame Race. He did the exact same thing every time Race was put in here. Luckily…they hadn’t had a run in with Snyder in a while. But now? Not so much.

    “I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise you that. I’m not leaving your side.” Race choked back his sobs. He didn’t need Spot knowing just how scared he was. And if Spot was being honest as well…he’s just as scared as Race is.

    The two of them heard keys jingling from down the hallway. Spot told Race to duck his head down so he wouldn’t be seen.

    The door opened. “Get away from me.” Spot said sternly- seeing Snyder enter the room.

    “I don’t think so…” he said- kneeling down to Spots level from where he was sitting on the floor. “Sooner then later I’m gonna have you and all your little friends locked in here. Including…” He walked over closer to the window.

    “THIS one.” He said out loud, dragging Race up from his hair, so he could be seen from out side the window. His skull was pressing up against the bars, and if Snyder pulled his hair any tighter, he might have just broke it.

    Spots head was racing with all kinds of different thoughts. No- no, no, no, no, nononononon-NONONONO. This can’t be happening. This was the last thing he wanted. Anyone but him. ANYONE but Racer. Please.

    But no matter how much Spot pleaded or begged- Snyder would always win in the end. The two of them being thrown out into the alleyway after, drained of their powers just like all the other ones had. 

    Race was thrown into the cell with Spot. The two of them held on to each other like a lifeline, only letting go when the two of them were forcibly removed apart when it was finally time.

    The two cried out the others name in desperation that it would do something. It didn’t. All Spot had to say was that the process hurt like fucking crazy. Being jabbed with needles and quite literally feeling like you’re being electrocuted isn’t the best feeling.

    Race doesn’t really remember anything about the process. The last thing he remembered was being thrown into the alleyway with Spot, left to rot and decay there like all the others had.

    “Race…” Spot managed to choke out, etching ever so closer to Race- ignoring the fact of how much it hurt to move. Race attempted to do the same.

    “I love you, Spottie.” Race weakly said, hoping he could hear it.

    “I love you to, Racer.” Spot said softly- while leaning his head on Race’s chest. Race just leaned his head back- moving his arms around Spot the best he could as he closed his eyes, never to open them again.

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DAY FIVE: “MY PANICS AT THE CEILING, BUT IM FACE DOWN ON THE CARPET.” QUIVERING / DREAM JOURNAL / PHOBIA

    Crutchie didn’t know what happened to be causing his nightmares of the refuge to be getting worse. They were only getting worse and they showed almost no signs of getting any better. He hated how sometimes he would have his boyfriend wake up because of him- because of his nightmares- and have to keep the two of them up because he couldn’t sleep. It’s draining.

    Tonight was one of those nights. Both him and Race were lying down on the bed in one of the spare bedrooms- while it poured rain and flashes of lightning lit up the sky outside.

    Crutchie HATED the rain and thunder. It always managed to scare him, bringing him back to the refuge with what seemed like no way out. There’s scars on him that won’t ever heal from that place.

    We woke up- wanting to scream. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to- and no sound would come out of his mouth. He was almost frozen in fear.

    All he could do was sit up on the bed, bring his knees up to his chest, and SOB. His hands moved to his ears, trying to block out the noise. He stayed frozen like that for awhile. He’s learned that in the refuge, if you let a single tear or whimper escape, it just gets worse. But that’s not where he is now, but that’s not what his brain is thinking.

    Race started to wake up, immediately taking in the scene and sitting himself up to try and help. “Hey.” He whispered, as to not to startle the boy. 

    Crutchie only tightened his grip on his ears and curled in on himself tighter. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t want Race to see him like this. He didn’t want anybody to see him like this. He hated feeling so…vulnerable.

    Race brought his hands up to Crutchies, trying to take them away from his ears as to not hurt himself. He noticed how much Crutchie was shaking in fear, he knew how bad the refuge was. He had been there himself, at least.

    Crutchie just shook his head and one of his hands just moved up into his hair, deciding to pull at that instead.

    Race tried to get his hands away again, eventually being able to take Crutchie’s hand in his own and away from his hair.

    “Hey. It’s alright. I’m right here. You ain’t in the refuge.” Race whispered, trying to bring Crutchie back to reality.

    Crutchie just shook his head, not even being able to open his eyes. “No…” Crutchie muttered, flinching as another strike of lightning struck.

    “You’se at the lodging house. You’se home. It’s Race- I’se right here.” Race pulled his other arm around Crutchie’s shoulders- rubbing back and fourth on his arm.

    Crutchie leaned into the touch further. His head went to Race’s chest, just wanting for it all to stop.

    Race just let it happen. He knows what to do when these nightmares happen, but every time he just feels responsible for it. He didn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything- but that he didn’t believe that.

    Race continued to hold him, not even caring about how late it was. 

    “I-I’m so sorry…I’se so s-sorry tha-that I’m like th-this Racer…” Crutchie muttered while continuing to cry into Race’s shirt. He hated feeling so small and pathetic like this.

    “Crutch- you’se got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He said sternly while lifting up the boys head, cupping his cheek.

    “It’s just…I’se so done with this. ALL of this. Being such a bother to you-” 

    “Who the hell told you that?!” Race cut him off, not even wanting him to finish that sentence. Crutchie didn’t answer. Just looked away- knowing that Race knew that no one in particular had really told him that…but it was something he told himself.

    “Listen love. Ain’t nothing you could do to make me stop loving you. I love you, Crutchie.” He pressed their foreheads together.

    “I love you to, Racer.” Was all Crutchie had to say. He couldn’t hold back his smile as he leaned in and kissed him.

    Race really meant what he said. He loves Crutchie- and no one’s taking that away from him. He couldn’t hold back the smile on his face.

    Laying back down now, Crutchie buried his face into the crook of Race’s neck and had his arms around his waist. Racer only had one last thought- it’s all gonna be alright in the end.

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DAY SIX: “NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN.” CAUGHT IN A NET / MEDICAL RESTRAINTS / PINNED TO THE WALL

    Race was supposed to be dead. Or so- that’s what he thought.

    He knew he was dead the moment he could quite literally see himself bleeding out in the lodging house, on his bed, dead.

    But at the same time…he wasn’t.

    So now he’s standing in Spots room, after he notices that he can see him. It’s wasn’t the best reunion.

    “Oh. Oh my god you’re…you’re…” Was all Spot could choke out. He was at a loss for words, honestly. His boyfriend was dead. He knew that when Jack had come over himself PERSONALLY to tell him the news. He cried his eyes out that night.

    But what he hadn’t been expecting was for this dead boyfriend in question to show up in his room unannounced.

    Race thought that dead people usually stayed dead. His body didn’t seem to catch up to that part.

    “Yeah…it’s me.” Was all Race needed to say for Spot to be all over him- practically pinning him up against the wall, inspecting every inch of him for any further injuries. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to have any.

    Spot had only left the room for a grand total of two minutes to clear his head- (despite how much he didn’t want to leave Race’s side,)- He came back to find Hotshot- his second in command, tying Race up in some kind of restraints onto the post of Spots bed, absolutely CONVINCED that this wasn’t the real Race.

    “I’m telling you Spot! This ain’t him!” He cried as he looked at Spot from where he was standing in the doorway in shock.

    “Let. Him. Go.” Spot muttered, looking down at his boyfriend tied up, sitting on the floor.

    Hotshot didn’t budge. “No. I’m telling you this already- the REAL Racetrack is gone. He’s dead, Spot. This is just some kind of…of some sick joke! Please just believe me!” Spot didn’t believe him. Or at least…he didn’t want to.

    Hotshot just moved closer to Spot, standing directly in front of him before leaving.

    “You’d better hope DAMN well that you’re right.”

    Even after a week of this…Spot still couldn’t believe this. Like…ANY of it. His boyfriends all of a sudden back from the literal fucking dead. No grave or tombstone with his name etched onto it could still make him any less alive then he was before…yeah.

    Spot still blames himself. For Race’s death, he means. He knows that he should’ve walked Race home. He knows that it was already way to dark out for him to walk himself back to the lodging house alone.

    Race says he doesn’t mind but…Spot does. This kid literally DIED and just…doesn’t give a shit?

    “I’m sorry I left you.” Race muttered one night, while sneaking up behind Spot, putting his hands around his waist and face straight into his hair.

    Spot couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of Race’s mouth.

    He turned around immediately, Races hands now bringing him in even closer and Spots hands not cupping Race’s cheeks.

    “Racer. It’s not your fault. Believe me- if I went with you this situation wouldn’t be any better. Stop blaming yourself.”

    Maybe Race did blame himself a little bit…

    “Spottie…” He brought one of his hands up to cover Spots with his own, the other still firmly keeping Spot close at the waist.

    “I mean it. I really do. If I could change our places-” Race cut him off right there.

    “And changing our positions wouldn’t make a difference anyways.” Race said, giving Spot a stern look.

    “I love you, Racer. Don’t forget that.”

    “I won’t. I love you too, Spottie.”

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DAY SEVEN: “TELL ME THAT YOU’RE OK, AND IM FINE.” TRAPPED WITH THE ENEMY / ELEVATOR / PUSHED BEYOND BREAKING POINT

    “Jack? JACK!” Davey cried over Jacks earpiece, trying to keep a signal but to no avail. It was no use.

    Jack was shoved into the elevator by Race, which lead up to Spots evil lair, or some shit. (Jack didn’t really know what to call it.)

    Race kept his grip strong enough to leave bruises. That kinda hurt, you know.

    Spot walked in right after him, just casually pressing the button to go ‘up,’ as the doors closed.

    The elevator was nothing special, honestly. Jack thought he could hear the souls of the damned screaming for him to help them, but at the same time…maybe he was just imagining it. Who knows. He’s running off of purely two hours of sleep, monster energy, and coffee. He didn’t know how he was still awake.

    The elevator stopped. Spot tried pressing the button again a few more times but it didn’t work. He banged his head and fist against the wall and shouted- “FUCK!” 

    “Stupid piece of shit…” Spot muttered, resorting to kicking the wall. “supposed to get fixed WEEKS ago…” Spot just turned around, dragging his hand across his face.

    “So…what now…do we just- leave him here?” Race asked him- being unsure of what to do.

    Race knew this was bound to happen, honestly. Stupid workers were supposed to have this fixed weeks ago. He knew that once he had Jack right under his fingertips, (quite literally, in this case,) the elevator would break and stop working.

    It’s been a grand total of two hours, and they’re all starting to lose their shit. Spot just keeps repetitively pressing the ‘help’ button at a consistent tempo, leaning onto Race’s shoulder about to fall asleep.

    Race just kept an eye on Jack, who was now tied up in the opposite corner of the elevator, with his hand currently intertwined with Spots. He eventually fell asleep, though.

    “Is help coming? Or am I just kinda…stuck here. Kinda boring, if you ask me.” Spot didn’t stop clicking the help button.

    “I don’t know, Jack. Shut it.” Spot just closed his eyes, already becoming visibly tired.

   Jack rolled his eyes, but Davey on the other hand was finally able to get a signal.

    “JACK! Jesus where the hell are you?! Why is it saying you’re at the same spot you were at two hours ago?!” Jack was so tired he didn’t even know if he wanted to, or could, for that matter, finish that question. He’s been tied up in the corner of an elevator for a while now, it’s starting to get boring. Plus, the ropes digging into his skin is not the most pleasant thing in the world.

    “Tired up in an elevator, Davey. Been stuck here for the past two HOURS-!” Jack whisper yelled, hoping that the couple who sat in the opposite corner couldn’t hear him in their sleep.

    “What the…never-mind. I’ve got your location now- I’ve sent Kathrine to get you out. I’m assuming that they’re in the elevator with you?” Jack nodded- before realizing that he couldn’t see him.

    “Yeah- yeah they’re still here.” Jack said while trying to keep his volume low, sneaking a glance at the pair still fast asleep in the corner.

    Surprise surprise…about an hour later Katherine now stood in between Jack, Spot, and Race, telling him to run.

    And run he did. By the time he got back to Medda’s, (this nice lady they met while they were younger, the was able to catch us breath. Jesus.

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DAY EIGHT: “OH HORROR, OH HORROR, WHAT DID YOU SEE?” SELF-INFLICTED INJURY / HELD AT GUNPOINT / DISASSOCIATION

    Jack sat on his knees, face tilted to the floor with his hands tied behind his back, gun jammed into the back of his head. The person holding the gun? Oscar Delancey. How he managed to get one, Race had no idea.

    Race stood and watched in horror as he stood at the front of the alleyway, looking at his boyfriend perched on the ground while holding back sobs and tears. Now wasn’t the time.

    “Just admit to us that you’re what we think you two are, is all we ask. Or else…” He jammed the gun further onto Jacks skull, moving his head further and closer to the ground. “The guns gonna go off.”

    Race doesn’t know when he started to disassociate. All he knows is that while he froze up, being unable to speak, all he could do is watch. Something in his brain clicked- and nothing made sense anymore. He wasn’t in that alleyway anymore- Jack wasn’t in danger anymore.

    He stammered over his words once he managed to snap back to reality. “I…I…” He didn’t know what to say.

    “Go on…” Morris taunted. But Race still couldn’t get it out. He knew that it wasn’t disgusting, or anything. Other people thought that…but it doesn’t mean that it’s true. He knew that he could get himself and Jack killed if he admitted this.

    “Racer don-!” Jack tried to call out, before Morris managed to clamp a firm hand over his mouth, making him unable to talk.

    While Jack struggled to get his arms free, Race started to say it.

    ”I…yeah. We- we’re dating.” He choked back a sob. He could only keep his head down and wipe away his tears while he heard the brothers laugh.

    “See…was that so hard?” Oscar said mockingly. He just jammed the gun further, bringing Jacks head nearly to his knees. “Not so hard, wasn’t it?” He brought the gun away from his head.

    Once Oscar brought the gun away from Jacks skull, he ran up to him immediately, untying the rope tied around Jacks wrists.

    He wrapped his arms around him, kneeling to the floor in front of him. He buried his face into the crook of his neck and just SOBBED.

    “I-I’m so sorry- I- I just go-got us killed, hav-haven’t I?” Race managed to stutter out. His breath was shaky and unstable. He might have as well of just announced it to the whole world- who knows what the Delancey’s are gonna do with this information?

    “Don’t say that.” Jack tried to say firmly, but his voice was still shaken and unstable as well. Well- I mean- the guy just had a gun pointed to his head for christ’s sake.

    The next morning wasn’t any better. Race and Jack stood to the side while Davey grabbed the papers for the three of them. It wasn’t safe for them to sell alone, at least not for today, with everything that had happened the previous day, so they were selling with Davey for the day.

    Oscar and Morris gave them cocky smirks from afar- smirks that meant they were up to no good.

    Race and Jack just squeezed the others hand tighter while Davey handed them their papers. They had to keep it together, at least for now.

    For when they got home, that’s a whole other story.

    Jack had allowed Race to run off, thinking he would be fine. He wouldn’t be home til later, he had a meeting with Spot to get to. (And a news flash: it wasn’t fine.)

    Jack had entered the private bedroom him and Race share, (curtesy of Jack being the leader of the Manhattan newsies,) with a small razor blade, slicing away at his skin, with his pant legs hiked up to his hip.

    More tears trailed down Race’s cheeks as he saw Jack enter the room. He thought he had some kind of meeting with Spot today. And Jack did- he had just gotten home early.

    He ran over and immediately snatched the small blade out of Race’s hands, tossing it over across the floor, out of both or their reach.

    Jack wrapped his arms around Race into a hug, and Race just LOST it. He just cried u til there was nothing left to cry. It took awhile before his breathing evened out again and the tears stopped.

    Jack looked back down at the still bleeding cuts across the boys thighs. He looked back up to Race- who was already looking back. “I’m so sorry, Jackie…” Race muttered, leaning his face into Jacks shoulder.

    “It’s alright Racer, I’ve got you.” Jack just say for another moment, not knowing what had caused his lover to do such a thing. 

    That was a lie. Yes, yes he did. Those god damn Delancey brothers.

    Jack pushed those thoughts aside for now. He didn’t want to worry about them right now- Race was who he was worried about right now.

    “I’se’ll be right back- I’ve gotta clean those cuts.” Rave just nodded, and once Jack was out of sight, all he could to was stare at the razor glistening and shining and staring back at him from across the floor.

    Jack came back with a mad cut and a wet rag- which he lightly placed and dabbed over Race’s thighs, to get all of the blood off of them.

    Race winced in pain once the wet rag touched his skin. “Sorry…” Jack muttered. Race reassured him that it was alright.

    Once Jack brought the rag to the side and started bandaging Race’s cuts, he asked one simple question.

    “Why?”

    Race struggled to get a response out, despite knowing the exact reason why. It seemed like the whole world was crumbling and falling apart around them, and there was nothing they could do about it.

    Race just looked down to where Jack was bandaging his cuts up, not being able to look him in the eyes.

    “I just…” Race almost stopped himself- before he kept going. “It just feels like…everything’s falling apart and there’s nothing I can do about it. We could be KILLED, JACK!” Race exclaimed, putting his head in his hands and tilting his head back.

    “Hey.” Jack stopped bandaging Race’s wounds momentarily, to show his scars of his own, just on his wrists.

    “You aren’t alone.” Race took a second to process what this meant, he didn’t know what to say. He just wrapped himself into Jacks arms, leaning his face into his chest while Jacks brought his arms to Race’s back.

    They were going to make it though this, and he wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

DAY NINE: “WE’LL MAKE IT ALRIGHT TO COME UNDONE.” TOUCH / FLASHBACKS / SCALDING

    Crutchie doesn’t remember when he had started having flashbacks of the refuge when he got back. All he knew is that they only seemed to get worse and worse.

    All it took was a firm hand from Jack placing itself on Crutchie’s shoulders, and he was all of a sudden left to die on the dirty floors of the refuge.

     Crutchie stood awkwardly trying to balance on one leg, his crutch being taken away from him in the refuge. He hated how the other kids would have to to take care of him- he could do it himself.

    Crutchie stood his ground and tried to not let the older boy who had him pinned up against the wall get the better of him. But this persona he built up for himself couldn’t last forever.

    He gave up and just accepted it. Just to get it done and over with. He let the boy beat him up, for his own pleasure. He was left with his face tattered and bruised everywhere. At least two of his ribs were broken. A scattered array of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree burns were left all over his body- from both the older boy pressing his cigar up to Crutchie’s skin, and both him calling others over to hold the lighter up to his skin.

    Those burns still hurt. He still remembers himself being held down while they punched and burned him til there was nothing left of him.

    Now it was only him and Jack left in the lodging house. Crutchie tried to keep it together, but it was no use. He felt embarrassed leaving the distribution center before he could cry in front of the others. Naturally, Jack follows after him. 

    “Crutchie?” Jack asked, not wanting to touch Crutchie again in case if it just triggered the same response again.

    “Hm?” Crutchie hummed, barley glancing up from where he lie in bed, wiping away his tears.

    “Is everything alright? What’s goin’ on?” Crutchie didn’t respond. He didn’t want Jack to have to hear just how shaken his voice was now from his crying. If he didn’t get it together, he doesn’t know what’d he do. There’s no easy way of explaining to your boyfriend how badly the refuge fucked you up.

    He’d only gotten back from the refuge two days ago. He figured that’d he’d be fine, that it wasn’t that bad.

    He stand corrected. He was wrong. Everywhere on him hurt. But…he doesn’t wanna seem weak. That’s all people ever saw him as. Weak. The one thing he didn’t want to be.

    “What’s wrong?” Jack asked again, sitting by Crutchie who was now curled up in his bed, unable to move from the pain. Jack attempted to wipe away his tears, reaching his arm out slowly, but the absolute flinch Crutchie let out was brought to make his heart snap.

    He came to one conclusion and one conclusion alone: the refuge. What else could it have been?

    Jack was quick to retreat his hand away. Crutchie could only look away. The look in Jacks eyes of pure sympathy and fear told the same old thing he always knew and could see people do once they noticed his bad leg. It’s that same look Jack was giving him right now.

    He hated that he hated that look. Crutchie knew look was supposed to show that people cared about you, and all that, but to Crutchie it only meant that he was weak. Nothing but some kid with a bum leg trying to make a living.

    Jack reached out his hand, and Crutchie looked at him for a quick second before nodding his head. Jack moved his hand down slowly to run his fingers through Crutchies hair.

    Crutchie sighed. He didn’t know how to even start this.

    “Everything hurts.” Well…that’s a starter. Jack tilted his head to one side, implying for him to explain.

    And with that Crutchie explained, while Jack didn’t even seemed shocked. Crutchie k ew Jack had been to the refuge before, most likely going throught the exact same think as him.

    And as of now, Crutchie sat on the lodging house bathroom, while Jack tended to his burns, cuts, and scrapes.

    Crutchie sat guiltily. He knew that he should have told Jack. He tells Jack everything, and Jack tells him everything.

    “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack asked after a moments silence. Crutchie took a second to figure out a response. He really didn’t know.

    He sighed again. “I just…I didn’t wanna bother you. Not again.”

    Jack stopped what he was doing for a second before he looked back up at Crutchie. “Again?” He asked. He didn’t know what he meant.

    Crutchie was confused. He though Jack knew. “Every time something goes wrong…I end up running to you for help. I’m fine, really. I don’t wanna bother you more then I already do.” This time, he looked Jack in the eyes confused before looking away.

    “Crutchie…you’se ain’t a burden. Who told you that?!” Crutchie didn’t seem to have an answer.

    Jack stared at Crutchie with disbelief. “You…” Jack stumbled over his words. He didn’t have to say anything though.

    Jack brought Crutchie into a tight hug. (Obviously not strong enough to hurt Crutchie, though.)

    They stayed like that for awhile. Crutchie pulled out of the hug to place a quick kiss to Jacks lips. “I love you, Jack.” “I love you to, Crutchie.”

Chapter Text

DAY TEN: “THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN EVER SAY, NOTHING YOU CAN EVER DO.” WITHOUT CONSENT / SECRETS / LIPS SEWN SHUT

    Racetrack Higgins didn’t need his fellow newsies to know that he was born a girl. It could get him killed, and that’s something he didn’t really want happening, now did he?

    Everything was fine- until that secret had started to unravel and come undone.

    Race did everything he could to pass as a boy. He taped his chest up 24/7, no matter how much it hurt him, he cut his hair short, and he wore boys clothes, he didn’t think anyone was suspecting anything anytime soon.

    But the Delancey’s noticed- and started suspecting and jumped right to conclusions.

    They stopped calling him a boy. That’s only the beginning- he didn’t know how they managed to figure it out. Only Jack and Spot knew what this secret was- and it was supposed to stay hidden.

    Race tried to keep his composure at first. When it first had happened- it seemed as if his lips had been sewn shut and he couldn’t speak. He just took his papers and moved on. That’s til one day he just…snapped.

    “I’m not a girl.” Was all he said at first. The Delancey’s just said they were only ‘teasing’ him. Yeah, sure, ‘teasing.’ But back to where we are currently- Race snaps.

    “I’se already told you to stop callin’ me that!” He jumped towards the Delancey’s- pinning Oscar to the ground and throwing punches like there was no tomorrow.

    His knuckles hurt like hell- but he didn’t care anymore. He just kept throwing punch after punch until Morris took him off of his brother and threw punched of his own. Everything else after that was a blur. It all went black.

    Race only remembers waking up inside of the lodging house after the fight. All Race really knew was that everything hurt, and Jack had to carry him all the way back home.

    He could barley move his head over to the side to look at Jack, while Davey was sat on his other side while he tended to Race’s wounds.

    Spot barged through the door, making his way over to Race the moment he saw him. Spot naturally bombarded Jack with questions.

    “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!” “Jack answer me.” “How did this even start?” “Is he gonna be ok?” 

    And tons more, Jack didn’t really know where to start.

    “He should be fine in about a couple days.” Davey spoke up. Jack grabbed his hand from across the bed- thanking him internally for speaking up, because he couldn’t. His mind was a mess trying to answer all these questions at once.

    Race just groaned and gave Spot a weak smirk. “Hey Spottie…” Race said, barley having enough energy to get it out.

    Spot gave a concerned look and almost knocked Jack out of his chair with how fast he shoved past him.

    “Racer…” Spot was at a loss of words. “How did this even-” Spot looked over to the side before a strike of realization hit him like lightning. He glanced over to Jack, who was lookin over at Davey, (who had an extremely confused look on his face,) before he brought his gaze over to Spot. He took that as his cue to leave with Davey- to explain.

    Spot brought his attention back over to Race, all bloody and bruised, face tattered and messed up with cuts and blood, complemented by bruises all over him. Spot couldn’t bring himself to look so long before he looked back over and looked Race in his eyes- drained of their color and dull. It pained Spot to look at him.

    “Racer…how did this even-”

    “They’se was callin’ me a girl, Spot.” Race brought his attention to the bunk above him. Spot’s breath hitched- out of all the things he was expecting, it wasn’t this.

    Spot didn’t know what to say. He stuttered over his words. “I-…”

    “Do I look enough like a boy, Sean?” Race only used Spots name when he was being serious. Spot didn’t know what the hell Race was talking about- of course he passed. No one thought twice about Race’s gender when they saw him. Hell- even Spot didn’t think twice when he saw the boy when he first met him.

    “Race- what kind of question is that? Of course you pass- I don’t know what they were thinkin’.” Spot said sternly while he sat down on the bed next to where Race was laying down, running his fingers through Race’s blond curls.

    Race looked to the side for a moment. “I just…then how? How did they know?” Race questioned. Spot didn’t have an answer.

    It hit Race like a flick of a switch. He looked down to his chest and weakly brought his arms up to cover it up. “Do you think…it was my chest? Or- I don’t know. Am I doing something wrong?” Race questioned again. But this time- Spot had an answer.

    “No. You’se not doin’ anything wrong. It just that…people are jerks. Don’ let ‘em get to you.” Spot continued to let his fingers guide themselves through Race’s hair.

    Race sighed. He really didn’t know what happened for the Delanceys to find out. He wished he did, though. They were last people he wanted figuring that out.

    Spot laid down next to Race and brought their foreheads together. “Don’t worry- we’re in this together.” Race nodded and wrapped his arms around Spots waist and Spot buried himself in Race’s chest. Let’s just hope this doesn’t backfire.

Chapter Text

DAY ELEVEN: “CAN YOU GET THROUGH ALL THE PAIN INSIDE YOU?” HIDDEN INJURY / LACERATION / FORCED REVEAL

    Crutchie was always one who kept to himself. Never told anyone anything- even if it meant that he was suffering.

    Crutchie came back from the refuge a day or two ago, seeming fine, but something was just…off about him.

    He winced in pain at times where it was clear that it wasn’t just “nothing.” Crutchie claimed it was, but he’s not known for being to honest with stuff like this.

    Davey on the other hand, was worried. He was starting to lose his mind knowing that something was wrong, and Crutchie refused to tell him.

    Davey didn’t know what to do. Every time he would just even slightly touch the boy he’d flinch away in pain. So, he did what abt logical person would, invite him over to his house, and confront him there.

    “Crutchie…can you please just tell me what’s wrong?” Davey asked him- getting concerned for him. Crutchie looked away from him. He turned himself away from Davey, from where he sat on the taller boy’s bed.

    “I’se’ll be fine- I promise.” Crutchie muttered. He didn’t need anyone else taking care of him like a little kid, he had himself, and that’s all he thought he needed. He was wrong, though, but that still didn’t stop him from refusing help from anyone, even if it was his own boyfriend.

    “Crutchie please,” Davey pleaded. “I can help you- just tell me-”

    “I don’t need you help! I’m just fine by myself.” Crutchie still looked over to the other side of Davey’s room, not at him. He brought his arms over his chest, where only some his fresh cuts from the refuge stayed. He knew that he would need help fixing them- but he didn’t want help. He didn’t want to be some kind of helpless kid who depends on everyone else around him.

    Davey sighed and brought his hand up to Crutchie’s shoulder- in which Crutchie flinched again- but the boy still didn’t turn around.

    “I’m just trying to help, there’s nothing wrong with needing it.” Davey said, quietly.

    “If I take your help- it just makes me weaker then I already am. I don’t need it.” Davey’s hand dropped from Crutchie’s shoulder.

    Davey needed a second to realize what Crutchie said. “Crutchie…needing help here and there doesn’t make you weak.” Crutchie didn’t answer, only looked back at Davey, seeming like he was about to cry. He didn’t let any tears all though.

    “I’ve seen blood seeping through your clothes for the past two days now…can you please just let me see them?” Crutchie shook his head.

    “No. I can’t- it just…” He allowed himself to trail off. Davey just took Crutchies hand in his. Davey looked to Crutchie for an answer to his question. Crutchie nodded.

    Davey quite literally didn’t know how Crutchie managed to get himself up every morning it was so bad. He looked at Crutchie from where the boy now laid on his bed, both confused and curious.

    “How have you even…what?” Davey was at a loss for words. For someone who’s nickname was ‘walking mouth,’ he didn’t seem to have a lot to say.

    Crutchie seemed to be just as confused as he was. He winced in pain while Davey lightly brought his hand up to one of the many cuts on Crutchie’s torso.

    Davey left for a second, and came back with a wet rag and pressed it onto Crutchie’s wounds.

    Crutchie flinched away for a second, trying to hide how much it hurt. Davey kept going.

    “How did you even get to this point? I mean- you were only gone for a few days…how did this…” Davey allowed himself to trail off. He didn’t want to know, he didn’t want that image of his boyfriend being beat up to this point in his head.

    Crutchie told him though. “I mean…he didn’t go easy on me. I couldn’t even get up to get food on the rare occasion-”

    “I’m sorry- RARE occasion?!” Davey thanked whatever god was up there that no one else was home. If they Heard- how loud he said that he doesn’t know what the hell would happen.

    Crutchie nodded and looked away. He knew that Davey could imagine what it was like with that alone. He’d seen Jacks drawings.

    Davey just took the rag away and took out the hydrogen peroxide from the med kit. Crutchie whined a bit at the sight of it- he’d help fix Davey up before, and knew that it had to hurt to some extent based off of Davey’s response to the chemical.

    “Do you really have to use that?” Crutchie asked him.

    “Yes- it’s not that bad, it’ll be fine.” Crutchie didn’t really believe him on that.

    “Yeah no…I’ve seen that way you act when I’ve had to use that on you. No thanks.” Davey rolled his eyes and scoffed.

    “Come on- please?” Crutchie looked Davey in the eyes. He was hard to say no to.

    Crutchie gave in and let him- despite the fact that it took him a lot longer because of how bad of a shape Crutchie was in. Davey eventually finished bandaging the boy up- and only had one question left.

    “Is everything alright?”

    Davey knew that physically- no, Crutchie wasn’t. But whatever thoughts Crutchie could’ve had running through his mind is what he didn’t know.

    Crutchie started to tear up. He hadn’t heard that question in a while.

    Davey grabbed Crutchies hand. Crutchie couldn’t get any words out. He just leaned his head onto Davey’s shoulder and buried his face into the crook of Davey’s neck. He allowed himself to tone down his walls he put up around other people. With Davey…he knew he could do that.

    Davey lifted Crutchie’s head and cupped his cheeks, wiping away the blond’s tears with his thumbs. He planted a kiss to his forehead before pressing them together.

    “Weak or not- I still love you, Charlie.” Neither could hold back their smiles.

    Crutchie leaned in and kissed him, bringing his hand into Davey’s hair. He never wanted to let go. He knew that he had Davey by his side wherever he went.

Chapter Text

DAY TWELVE: “IT’LL BE FOR NOTHING.” CARDIAC ARREST / SACRED PLACE / WITHHOLDING MEDICAL TREATMENT

    Jack didn’t like to admit defeat. That’s one of the many habits he’s picked up from Spot, his boyfriend.

    That’s how he’s managed to end up on the penthouse of Spot’s bedroom at two in the morning, asking for help.

    Yeah, it’s pretty pathetic if you asked Jack. Why he didn’t just go home to Medda’s, you ask? Well- Jack had an answer. Medda’s was to far away, and the blood pouring out of the gaping hole in his stomach from where he had been stabbed by the Delancey’s didn’t exactly give him tons of time.

    Jack weakly knocked onto Spots window, hoping that he was still up. Who was he kidding- of course he was up. He doesn’t think he’s even seen Spot asleep.

    Spot got up from where he was laying down in his bed, and put his phone into his pocket. He didn’t know who the hell could even be up at this hour besides himself.

    He was wearing some of Jacks pajama pants, (which were far to big on him,) and an oversized tee shirt that he was almost drowning in.

    He saw Jack outside his window and immediately noticed that something was wrong without even being able to see what it was yet.

    “Jack?” The shorter boy asked while opening the window to his room, concerned. He only had to move his gaze down a couple inches to see all the blood dripping down Jacks hand from where he was desperately making a weak attempt to keep his blood for seeping out. Blood ran down his hand and onto his shirt and pants.

   Spot literally screamed at the sight of him. He hand to clamp his hands over his mouth to stop. He immediately climbed out into the freezing cold night and onto the fire escape.

    Spot stammered over his words. He moved Jacks hand from where he was holding the blood in and replaced it with his own.

    “Jesus Kelly,” Spot questioned. “How did- how did this even-…even h-happen?” Spots voice cracked- he didn’t know what to do. He was panicking.

    He remembered the phone in his pocket. He needed to call for help.

    Spot called 911 while desperately trying to keep Jack awake while blood covered his hands.

    “Jack? JACK?!” He cried out, not caring if it woke up his neighbors or not. He was dying and it seemed like there was nothing he could do. From where he was kneeling on top of Jack, he could see how the color in his eyes faded and how his breathing slowed and came to a stop.

    Spots breath hitched. He paused for a second- coming to terms with reality. Jack Kelly was dead.

    “Jackie c’mon- this- this isn’t funny. C’MON! PLEASE WAKE UP!” He cried, feeling the hot tears drip down his face. But it was no use. No amount of tears could bring him back.

    The ambulance came right as he started to cry. The paramedics took over immediately. Spot thought it was no use.

    Key word: thought.

    As Spot brought his hands up, staring down at them, covered in Jacks blood, his knees buckled beneath him and he sobbed. Spot’s breathing picked up the pace and made it hard to get any air in. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jack was only 17. It not supposed to be like-

    The paramedics said he was back.

    They- they weren’t lying either. They didn’t pronounce him dead, they didn’t say that. They told him that he was ALIVE. Breathing. 

    Spot almost didn’t believe it at first. All he remembers is getting into the ambulance to the hospital, to make sure Jack was alright.

    Jack woke up in a hospital bed the next morning, with little to no knowledge of the previous night.

    Spot didn’t sleep last night. He wanted to be right by Jacks side when he got up.

    Jack groaned as he opened his eyes. It was still fairly dark out.

    “Spot…?” He asked- still not fully aware at the situation at hand.

    Spot didn’t know what to say. He wanted to scream, cry, and just kiss Jack all over at the same time.

    “Oh my god.” Was all Spot could manage to make out. He stood, getting closer to Jacks bedside.

    “It’s Spot, Jackie.” He grabbed Jacks hands. Jack looked over to Spot.

    “Spottie… what happened?” Spot was silently hoping that he wouldn’t ask that question.

    “You- you got s-stabbed last night.” Spot wanted to just break down and sob right now. But he sucked it up and kept going. “You were dead, Jackie. You had surgery- and…and they though th-that you- there was a possibly that you wouldn’t- wouldn’t wake up.” Jack say up a little more, making room for Spot on the bed. Spot sat down next to him, more then grateful that what he had just said wasn’t the case.

    Jack leaned onto Spots shoulder. Spot put his head in ton of his, burying his face into Jacks hair.

    “I’m right here, Spot. Right here.” Spot allowed himself to let himself cry. He didn’t have anything else on his mind- just Jack. He thought that he’d lost him last night. He was glad that he didn’t have to choose his best suit to wear to his funeral, or have to look at Jack, forever asleep in a casket.

    “Promise me that you won’t leave again?” Spot asked. He didn’t want a scare like this this happening ever again.

    “I promise.”

Chapter Text

DAY THIRTEEN: “HOW DULL IS IT TO PAUSE, TO MAKE AN END, TO RUST UNBURNISHED.” NEVER ENOUGH / INSIGNIA / FORCED RETIREMENT

    ”Back away from me.” Racetrack weakly muttered, already weak. He found himself backed into a wall, not even being able to stand. He was covered with cuts and bruises, and he was pretty sure that something was broken.

    Oscar crouched down to look Race in the eye from where he sat weak and limp on the floor, hot tears dripping down Race’s cheeks.

    Oscar grabbed Race by the hair, making Race wince in pain. He’d been through enough. Everything hurt. It was already late- he was supposed to be back at the lodging house hours ago. He just hoped that someone was looking for him. He knew there had to be…he just didn’t want anyone else getting hurt. If the Delanceys had managed to do this to him, just the two of them, he didn’t want to see what they could do to a smaller newsie…or…

    Crutchie. Oh god- Crutchie. Racetrack knew damn well that Crutchie was just fine on his own- but if these two brothers got Race in this bad of a shape when Race had two working legs? Yeah, he didn’t want to imagine it.

    Oscar pulled up on Race’s hair, forcing him to stand, and all he could do was comply. He tried to stand- but his legs buckled beneath him. He literally couldn’t even stand up. His leg was broken. How was he supposed to get home? How was he supposed to stand?

    Oscar pulled on his hair again. “Please- please I can’t! Stop…” Race cried, but not as loud as he would have preferred. His voice was already tired from the screaming and crying, hoping that someone would come and save him. It never happened.

    He was forced to stand as he tried to balance himself so all his weight wouldn’t be shifted onto his broken leg. Oscar pulled his head back against the brick wall.

    Morris came up behind him, holding a knife.

    No- no no no no nononoonononono- this isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Is this the end? It’s the end. This isn’t- oh my god.

   Morris brought the tip of the knife up to the side of Race’s throat, but not close enough to break the surface of his skin.

    “Just tell us that you two are on of those freaks, and we’ll leave you alone.” Race knew what he meant. The knife that Morris was holding all of a sudden felt a whole lot more real.

    “No- no I won’t.” He didn’t want to prove them right. Saying that stuff would get both him AND Crutchie killed. He didn’t want that. He couldn’t endanger him as well.

    “Say it.” Race still didn’t reply, only let more tears steam down his face as the knife dug into his skin and started to draw blood. “Say it!” Oscar yelled, his face now getting closer to Race’s.

    “It’s just me!” Race cried. “It’s just me. Leave Crutchie out of this.” Race knew that it wasn’t true. Crutchie was just like him. But if he was going down, the last thing he was doing was bringing Crutchie down with him.

     “Morris.” Morris took that cue and dug the knife further into his throat. Race felt the blood trickle down his chest and onto the floor, and it didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. He’s seen the same thing happen with other newsies- and they bled a whole lot more then he had. Why wasn’t he bleeding as much?

    As Race brought his hand up from where it sat on his neck and stared down at it, dripping with blood, he brought it back up, and everything went dark.

    Crutchie doesn’t remember when they found Race. He was to busy spiraling to notice at first. Everything he was thinking came true. He thought Race was dead.

    One thing he does remember though is Jack and Davey bursting through the door, Jack holding a practically lifeless Race in his hands, and setting Race down in his bunk.

    Crutchie didn’t leave his side all night. He had so many questions. Who did this? How did this happen? Where did this happen? What could’ve lead up to Race getting hurt like this? So many questions that he didn’t have the answers to.

    He still remembers what Race looked like. His messed up curly blond hair, his blue eyes, drained of their color, and his now extremely pale skin. He could still see the stab wound. He watched as Davey and Jack helped attempt to patch him up in a panicked hurry. All Crutchie could do was watch. He held Race’s lifeless hand, seeing all the blood pour out of his neck. It was painful to look at.

    Race doesn’t remember Jack carrying him back to the lodging house, or anything else from tonight for that matter, all he remembers is blacking out from all the blood loss.

    Davey says that the knife didn’t go so deep. That’s why he’s not dead. He literally survived getting stabbed…I guess there’s a first for everything?

    Race opened his eyes, extremely confused and dazed.

    He groaned as he tried to sit up- he was instantly met with hands pushing him back down.

    “Don’t sit up yet,” Davey started, lifting his hands from Race’s chest. “It’s not safe.”

    Race looked over to Davey, and the over to Crutchie, who sat on the other side of him, holding his hand.

    It all started to come back to him. All of it. Him getting stabbed, his leg getting broke, everything.

    Crutchie carefully sat next to Race on the bed, his fingers gliding though Race’s soft curls cautiously.

    “I’m so sorry…” Race said quietly and weakly. He knew he worried Crutchie. He didn’t even want to imagine how he must’ve felt seeing the state he was in when Jack found him.

    “What are you apologizing for?” Crutchie was quick to wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks. He didn’t need anyone- especially not Race- to see just how broken he was seeing him like that.

    “I just…” Race couldn’t find the words. “I worried you. It’s all my fault I-”

    “No. No it’s not.” Crutchie was quick to cut him off. He just continued to bring his fingers though his lovers hair.

    After a moment of silence, Jack spoke up. “Race…what happened?” Race didn’t want to answer- but he forced himself to anyways.

    “The- the Delancey’s. They’se was a-asking about me- me and Crutchie. I didn’t want to tell- tell them, but I had to.” Race stuttered. Jack had this both shocked and nervous expression on his face.

    No- shocked isn’t the right word. This was one of the least surprising things that the Delancey’s have done, actually.

    Jack just nodded and got up to leave with Davey. The other newsies tried not to intrude…but it was hard to do so.

    “I’m not letting this happen again.” Crutchie said sternly, his grip on Race’s hand getting slightly tighter.

    “Don’t blame yourself.” Was all Race said, melting into Crutchie’s touch. He was still on edge from Oscar pulling at his hair…but that was a story for another day.

    Crutchie leaned over and gave Race a quick kiss on his forehead. He heard some gasps from around the room, but he ignored those. He unlinked his hand from Races, cupping his cheek.

    “I mean it. Just…promise me that you’se gonna try and be safe?”

    “I promise.” Crutchie then leaned down, and kissed Race carefully, being wary of the fresh wound on Race’s neck.

    And if the two of them kept getting teased for it for a while…they didn’t mind.

Chapter Text

DAY FOURTEEN: “IN THE END, ITS WORTHWHILE.” IGNORING AN ILLNESS / BODY BAG / WOUNDED CARETAKER

    Jack knew he was slowly deteriorating. He could feel himself rotting away. But he didn’t do anything about it- he had people counting on him.

    All the headaches, the chills and fevers, and the pain so bad that he could barley get himself out of bed in the mornings. Davey had to force him to lay back down.

    “Jackie- I mean it. Lay back down, we’ve got them.” Davey said, putting a hand on top of Jacks chest, pushing him back down. Jack didn’t have the energy to fight. He just nodded with a weak smirk, even if it caused him an immense amount of pain to do so.

    Davey gave him a kiss on his forehead, and left to go take care of all the younger newsies downstairs.

    It’s wintertime. With winter, came disease. And disease led to death. Davey really tried his hardest to not let it show just how much it worried him that his boyfriend was sick, but…sometimes it just slipped. He wanted to just cry, scream, punch, breakdown, just do SOMETHING. But there was no where to scream. None of it would work. Jack was wasting away and there was nothing he could do.

    Every time Davey got home from selling, Jack only seemed to get worse.

    “Oh Jackie…” Davey dropped his bag onto the floor by the doorway and rushed over to him. The strike had only ended a month or so ago, and everyone’s sick with something. Jack just seemed to be the only one who wouldn’t get any better.

    That night while the two of them were about to fall asleep- Jack had a question.

    “Why am I the only one who isn’t getting any better, Davey?”

    Davey didn’t have an answer. He wished he did.

    The next morning…something in David felt…off. Like something was going to happen. He held Jack extra close that morning, and kissed him for longer then he should’ve, like it was the last time he would be able to do so.

    It was the last time. Later that day, after he had gotten home, he had opened the door to Jack’s room to discover Racetrack sitting at Jacks bedside, his eyes all red from crying, and a limp and lifeless Jack on the bed, pale and ghostly.

    Gone.

    Davey stopped dead in his tracks. This wasn’t…this wasn’t real. “Is he- he’s…” Racetrack just shook his head.

    “He’s gone, Davey.” Race said weakly. He could barley get the words out. Jack was Someone he looked up to, his friend. Someone by his side til’ the end. And now…gone.

    His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground.

    Davey’s sobs and screams were heard over all when he dropped to the ground, head in hands. Race came over to Davey’s side, attempting to comfort him.

    But no amount of comforts would make Jack come back.

    They watched later that day as they carried away Jacks body and put him in a body bag. It was horrific. Davey had to put him hands over his mouth to keep him from screaming, but nothing would stop his tears.

    “Davey.” Race said firmly, but with pain still prominent in his voice. He placed his hands over Davey’s shoulders.

    Davey knew what this meant for Race. He had to step up- he was Jacks second in command after all. But while going through grief? It’s hard.

    “Look at me- we’re getting through this together, alright?” More tears streamed down Race’s face. “I’m right here.”

    “Im right here for you to- don’t forget that, Racetrack.” Davey pulled him into a hug and Racetrack hugged him back. They were in this together.

Chapter Text

DAY FIFTEEN: “YOU CAN TAKE A BREAK, IF YOU JUST TELL ME THAT IT HURTS.” FAILED RESCUE ATTEMPT / BODY PART IN THE MAIL / LIVE-STREAMED TORTURE

    “Let me go.” Spot pleaded, looking up at the taller boys standing over him from where he sat on his knees, chained to the floor by the wrists without an escape. Spot always insisted that he never needed saving. But just this once, maybe saving didn’t seem so bad.

    Getting kidnapped by the Delancey’s wasn’t what he was expecting, honestly.

    Morris pulled out his phone and started recording. “Hey Jack…we have someone you want!” He said while he kneeled down to Spots level ti get a good shot of his face, all tattered, bloody, and bruised from all the fighting.

    He felt pathetic sitting all chained up on the floor like that. On his knees, hoping that people as cruel as the Delancey’s would have mercy on him.

    Oscar snickered and bent over, still standing over Spot. “Say goodbye, Spot.” He let out another laugh.

    All Spot wanted was to go home, lay in Jacks arms, and just be anywhere away from this place.

    “Jackie- please. Help me.” Spots voice faltered while he looked at the camera. No matter how calm he tried to seem, nothing could stop his voice from shaking.

    “Awww…are you gonna cry?” Morris teased. Spot really wanted to, if he were being honest. He left that’s all he could do. But it’s the one thing that he wouldn’t allow himself to do. Spot just shook his head. He had to be strong. For Jack.

    To say that Jack was losing his shit would be an understatement. He knew where Spot was- the Delancey’s house. They didn’t have anywhere else to put him without getting caught.

    He just didn’t have a way to get him out. That’s the problem.

    He started pacing, while Race and Crutchie watched. They looked at each other with concern, because speaking with experience…they didn’t have a lot of experience in the “hostage negotiations” department.

    “Jack-”

    Ding!

    Jacks phone went off, the only text being- [one video.] A video from an anonymous number. He knew who it had to be though.

    Jack froze in place. He couldn’t bring himself to pick up his phone to see what the contents of that text could have been.

    Crutchie had the courage to see what it was, though. He had to. He needed to see what was in that video- if there was anything that could have helped them.

    With Race watching over his shoulder, watching that video made their stomachs twist. Spot pleading on his knees for Jack to save him. They two of them had never seen Spot in a state like this. All messed up and nervous. The visible and very prominent tremor in his entire body. The cuffs chaining him to the floor.

    Jack could hear the audio from across the room. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I…what are we supposed to do?” The silence filled the room. After the video ended- the entire room went silent.

    “We have to do something. Quick.” Was all Race could get out, filling up the silence of the room, grabbing Crutchie’s hand.

    Jack wanted to cry just looking at them. He wanted that right now. To hold Spots hand, to be able to see him, to be in his presence, to just be with Spot. But that’s now the one thing that he can’t have. He hated it.

    Jack just nodded and wiped away the tears streaming down his face which he didn’t even realize that he hadn’t even noticed before. Spot need him.

    It was dark out by now- Spot didn’t think he had anyone coming for him now. He didn’t know what Jack was doing now. The cuffs around his wrists were starting to hurt.

    A knock at the window.

    The window was located at the very top of the ceiling, with it being the basement and all. The windows were just small enough for someone to slip through.

    “Jack?” Spot muttered, up at the window before realizing that it was him. He wanted to just run up and wrap him in a huge bear hug and put kisses all over him. But with the shackles bounding him to the floor, that kind of seemed out of the picture.

    Jack eventually picked the lock, slipping into the small room.

    “Spottie-”

    “Jackie.”

    Was the only thing the two of them said barley above a whisper, trying not to be heard. Even thought the both of them wanted to be louder, that wasn’t really an option to them right now, huh?

    Jack knelt down and wrapped his arms around Spots waist, and Spots going around Jacks chest, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

    Jack eventually pulled out of the hug, cupping Spots cheeks immediately after and pulling him into a kiss.

    Spots hands started tangling in Jacks hair, hoping to just get lost in the moment and forget the current situation at hand. The cuffs bounding his hands back down is what the brought them back to reality.

    Jacks hands didn’t leave Spots cheeks. “We’re getting you out. I promise.” Spot nodded. He let his tears fall. He could tell that Jack had been crying not so long ago, with the red in his eyes being illuminated by the dim light coming into the room from the window.

    Only the slight creaking of a door opening separated them.

    Jack bolted under the staircase, where it wasn’t visible to someone who was just looking down from the top of the staircase.

    A flashlight shone down from the top of the steps. Oscar came down a few steps, shining the light directly in Spots face.

    He gave a suspecting look, before giving a slight growl and retreating back up the stairs.

    Spot looked back over to Jack, who was now walking back over. He kneels back down to Spots level from where he sat on the floor, putting his arms around his waist to pull him into one last kiss before he had to leave.

    “Just don’t forget about me down here…ok?” Spot asked. He didn’t want to stay down here a second longer.

    “I won’t.” Jack retreated back up towards the window, but before he left, he had one more thing to say.

    “I love you.”

    “I love you to.”

    “I’m telling you that we need to get the cops involved!” Crutchie exclaimed after Jack had told him and Race about the previous night the next morning.

    “I can’t- I just- they won’t listen. They never do. They aren’t gonna listen to a bunch of sixteen and seventeen year old kids.” Jack put his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do.

    Crutchie and Race just gave each other another look. They weren’t sure where to go next with this either.

    Spot on the other hand, hadn’t been fed in days, and was had seemed like he was on the verge of dying any second now.

    The bags under his eyes became more prominent. He hadn’t gotten sleep in what had seemed like forever.

    Oscar and Morris came back down without any phones, just their phones. Maybe for anothe r video, maybe to live stream him to the internet. They’d done it before, they’d do it again. He just wanted to be put out of his misery. Even death seemed better then this.

    Morris just allowed his older brother to keep wailing on Spot, streaming it all for everyone to see. He didn’t care at this point. All his energy had been used up in actually keeping him alive, he had what seemed like none left to fight back. He couldn’t fight back.

    Once Oscar got up, he just gave his brother a smirk and excited the room. Morris just took pictures of the damaged that he’d allowed to cause and left after his brother.

    Jack could only describe the pictures that he got as some of the most gruesome shit he had ever seen.

    He almost threw up when he saw them, it was so bad. He was done with seeing Spot like this.

    Jack was determined to get Spot out tonight. He didn’t want anymore pictures, no more videos, he was done with all of it.

    He snuck in later that night, with Crutchie and Race alongside him, who worked to get the cuffs off of Spot.

    Spot flinched away in pain and fear in what seemed like every couple of seconds, he was so petrified.

    “I know, I know…” Jack reassuringly whispered, pushing back some of Spots hair, as Race worked off the second cuff that was far to tight.

    The cuff finally snapped.

    The four of them had never ran any faster. Jack and Spot sat in the backseat of Race’s car, with Rave driving and Crutchie in the backseat. Everyone was at a loss of words, no one knew what to say. They just stopped Spot from being held hostage by the Delancey’s, for Christ’s sake.

    Once upstairs, Jack had to take care of all of Spot’s wounds. He insisted that he was fine- or that it could at least wait until the morning, but Jack didn’t believe him one bit.

    They looked so much worse then they had over on the pictures and videos. He winced at the sight of them. Spot sighed. He didn’t want Jack to see him like this.

    It wasn’t even just the scars and wounds alone. It was how starved and malnourished Spot looked. His ribs were showing, and it seemed like every breath pained him to take.

    “Spottie…” Was all Jack could get out. He didn’t know what to say. He treated the wounds in silent. They figured it was best to just…leave this for the morning. This was already enough for one night.

    Spot immediately ran to grab a pair of Jacks pajama pants once Jack was finished, (Even though he knew for a fact that they were far to big for him,) and a large oversized T-shirt and hoodie. Oh how he had missed home.

    Curled into Jacks side, finally being able to feel the comfort of Jack at his side, something that he hadn’t been able to feel in days, he only had one thing to say.

    “I love you, Jackie.”

    “I love you to, Spottie.”

Chapter Text

DAY SIXTEEN: “IVE HAD THE RUG PULLED BENEATH MY FEET.” REPRESSED TRAUMA / PERMANENT MARKER / DISORIENTATION

    Jack wasn’t a huge fan of allowing himself to open up to people.

    All he knew was keeping it in, after all. None of the traumas from the refuge slipped from in between his lips, not a single one stuttered.

    There were scars all over him that would never heal. Davey kissed them all and loved him either way, scars or not, but none of his kisses would convince him to tell him how they got there. He didn’t know how.

    There were some things in the refuge that he didn’t think he could ever say again. After his first visit- he wasn’t the same.

    Davey loved him anyways. He really did. He wanted Jack to open up, though. Davey just wanted to make it all alright- to make the pain go away. Jack would wake up at random times in the night and start panicking about the refuge. Davey wanted to help him all he could and more. But no matter what he had asked Jack, he never told. Like the shorted boy had taken a vow of silence, to never utter another words about the torture and horrors of the refuge.

    “Jack.” Davey said sternly, getting Jacks attention one night on the rooftop. They sat next to each other, with Jack leaning onto Davey’s shoulder, and Davey’s head on top of Jacks. Davey’s hands traveled down to Jacks waist, pulling him closer.

    “Yeah?” Jack asked, not knowing what Davey could be asking.

    “Are you ever gonna tell me about the refuge?” Ouch. That came out harsher then Davey had originally intended. But he needed to know. He didn’t need Jack waking up again, freaking out, and Davey having no idea how to help him.

    Jack sighed and looked away. He lightly tossed his sketchbook to the side, still not looking at Davey. Davey on the other hand, was scared that he had upset the other boy. It was quite the opposite.

    Jack still didn’t look at Davey. Just grabbed his hand and lightly squeezed. “You- you don’t wanna know.” Jack quickly muttered. He knew the horrors of the refuge, Davey did not.

    ”But I do wanna know- I just wanna help you, Jackie.” Davey’s intentions were pure. That’s really what he meant. He just wanted to help Jack. He didn’t mean to be peaking into places he didn’t belong.

    Jack buried his face into the crook of Davey’s neck even further. He didn’t know what to say. No one’s really even been so insistent to just…help him. He needed it, but that’s something that he’d never admit. A horrible habit he had picked up from Crutchie. Damn him.

    Jack fought back tears. He didn’t let them fall. He sniffled, and then lifted his head out of the crook of Davey’s neck a little bit, so he could at least hear him a little bit better.

    “Three boys to a bed minimum.” He started, “Rats and dirt everywhere. They didn’t feed up much, either. When me and Racer were in there- oh it was hell seeing him like that. Ribs poking’ through his skin. Didn’t eat for about a week once.” Davey held Jack closer and shoved his face into Jacks hair while listening closely.

    “They’se refused to call me a boy, Davey.” Davey wanted to punch someone’s lights out just hearing that.

    Jacks tears fell while he buried his face back into Davey’s shoulder. Davey held him reassuringly- he didn’t know it was that bad. He’d never been there himself, after all.

    He wanted to just murder whoever the hell was responsible for this. But he didn’t let that slip. He just held Jack while he cried, whispering to him reassuringly to let him know that it’s ok. Davey knew the struggle of being like Jack himself.

    It felt like hell whenever Davey had to go home. He couldn’t tell his parents he was like this- they’d send him somewhere that made sure that he would never be seen again. He didn’t want that. So, he kept his mouth shut, wore all the makeup and dresses his parents forced him to wear, acted “like a lady.” 

    He hated it. He hated every second of it. He wanted to rip his own hair out at the thought- let alone the feeling of wearing a dress another second. He wanted to tear his own skin off at the feeling of makeup on his face. He already had a decently “feminine” face, he didn’t need people mistaking him for a woman another second. He was sick of it.

    He’s glad that Jack opened up, but…he can’t even really begin to try and figure out what to say. The thought of Jack being called a girl was horrifying. If Jack didn’t pass- did he?

    “Do I look like a boy, Davey?” Jack asked. Davey was confused at the question. He couldn’t even begin to imagine Jack as a woman.

    “What- I- of course you do. If you don’t pass- what the hell do I look like?!” Davey asked with a small and knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle.

    “No less of a boy then the others do, Davey.” Davey couldn’t help but let his smile widen even further while he placed a gentle kiss on top of Jacks forehead, bringing his hand to Jacks cheek, the other staying at his waist.

    “Listen- don’t Listen to them. I don’t care how many scars you may have, how many times they told you that you’re a girl, how many times you’ve been in there- it doesn’t matter. I love you anyways.”

    Jack stuttered over his words. “I-I just- what?” He was confused. No one had ever really said this to him before, but be he had this odd light, fluttery, and airy feeling in his stomach that he could only describe as if there were butterflies flying around in his stomach.

    “ I said that I don’t care about those things, Jack. I love you. That’s all I care about.” Jack leaned in closer.

    “And you really mean it?” Jack asked him, already knowing the answer and with a knowing smirk creeping up onto his face.

    “I mean it.” Jack closed the gap in between them. Staring at Davey’s lips for so long just made him want them even more.

    Oh, how I love you.

Chapter Text

DAY SEVENTEEN: “TELL ME THERES A HOPE FOR ME.” INTERNAL BLEEDING / COMA / REDEMPTION

    Crutchie literally passing out while he had his boyfriend over at Medda’s wasn’t how he intended his night to go.

    He did notice the large bruise growing over his stomach, how pale he was getting, the nausea and vomiting, and how he didn’t think that with how pale he was, the lightheadedness, he didn’t think that was normal.

    Davey noticed to. He noticed it all. He told Crutchie to tell someone, anyone, but he insists that he’s fine. Davey could see that he was lying through his teeth.

    It was just…a normal night. No really, it was. Crutchie invited him over, Medda wasn’t home. The two of them were leaving to sleep up in Crutchies room- and then out of what seemed like nowhere he passed out halfway, saying that he wasn’t feeling good.

    Yeah. Not ideal. Davey panicked. He didn’t know what to do. He shouted for Jack, who was upstairs in his room.

    He’d never seen him run faster. It all happened so quick the two of them didn’t have any time to react.

    “What the hell happened?!” He shouted in a panic, trying to process.

    “I- he just-” Davey stuttered over his words. “He just passed out- I don’t k-know how this-…” Davey allowed his words to trail off. “Call 911. Now.”

    And that’s what Jack did. He started panicking over the phone, checking if he still had a pulse, seeing what his breathing was like, ect. He was a mess.

    Davey wasn’t to much better. He tried to stay calm. Key word: tried.

    He called Medda. He let her know what was happening- she was on her way immediately.

    “Meddas- Meddas on her way.” He said. He didn’t know what else to do.

    The ride to the hospital wasn’t much better. They gave him blood, gave him meds, gave him all of it.

    They didn’t know how he even managed to get like this. Davey didn’t know, Medda didn’t know, Jack didn’t know, nobody knew.

    Medda freaked out when she got there. She walked over to where Jack was sitting, asking him tons of questions, most he didn’t have the answers to.

    The three of them sat quietly, waiting patiently for answers to the questions they didn’t even know if they could get the answers to.

    A doctor eventually walked over about an hour later. “Are you all here for Charlie Morris?” She asked.

    They all nodded. Davey couldn’t bring himself to talk. He froze up, and didn’t even hear part of what the doctor was saying.

    “-But he’s stable for now.” The doctor finished off.

    “When can we see him?” Jack asked the doctor before him, standing up. The doctor just looked down at he clipboard before looking back up at the three of them.

    “You can see him now- but it’s not gonna be pretty.” Davey didn’t like how that sounded. She sounded as if they were discussing his funeral- telling him an open casket funeral wouldn’t be the best option.

    Davey pushed away those thoughts. He just need to see Crutchie- that’s all he wanted. All he needed. “Only one person in the room at a time, though, please.”

    He looked back over to Jack and Medda. Searching for an answer, wondering if he could go. Jack nodded. “I’m waiting for Spot to get here anyway.” Jack looked up to Medda. She just nodded.

    Walking into the room, Davey wanted to break down right then and there. Crutchie had wires all over him, and intubation tube in his mouth, arm broken and now in a sling, and he was so pale that he looked DEAD.

    Davey needed to remind himself that he wasn’t. He held back his tears and tried to hold himself together.

    “We aren’t sure when he’ll wake up.” The doctor started. “You’ll be one of the first people to know when he does, though.” He nodded and turned around to face the doctor.

    “Thank you.” He forced himself to say. He didn’t want to seem rude. The doctor nodded with a small smile and left the room, leaving the two of them alone.

    He slowly walked over to him, now noticing all the smaller features of his looks. He blond mess hair, the freckles on his face, and recalling even the stuff he couldn’t see. His blue eyes, his dimples at appeared whenever he smiled, it’s hard not being able to see them. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see them again.

    “Who did this to you?” Davey asked, voice broken and cracking. He couldn’t keep in those tears any longer. He let them fall, felt the tears drop down his cheeks. The only difference was that now there was no one to wipe them away.

    “If you can hear me…” He lifted his hand up to wipe away his tears. ”Please just tell me who did this to you.” He grabbed Crutchie’s hand.

    He wore Crutchie’s hoodie the next day. He tried to make it through- but ended up not even making it to 4th period.

    “What’s wrong?” His mother asked. Right…he hadn’t told her yet. He forgot that he had spent the night at Crutchie’s house, not even being able to bear seeing him like that. He spent the whole night curled up on Crutchie’s bad, wondering about all the things he could have done wrong. What if he had said something about it before this happened? What if he had been more insistent? What happened to him?

    That question lingered on his mind longer then it should have.

    “David?” His mother asked again, snapping him out of his trance. He didn’t know where to start, stuttering over his words, looking for the right words to say. None of them seemed right though.

    “Crutchie…he- he passed out last night. I-Internal-…” he fought back a sob and tried to get the words out. “Internal bleeding- they said. They- they do-don’t know when he’s gonn- gonna wake up.” Davey brought his knees up to his chest from where he sat in the backseat of his moms car.

    The drive home after that was silent. His mother reassured him that it was all gonna be alright in the end, but he knew that she was lying.

    The Delancey’s had always picked on Crutchie. He knew that this was their doing.

    An investigation was launched. The school found the footage of the two brothers, backing- no- SHOVING Crutchie into a classroom. Only the brothers walked out. Crutchie didn’t.

    Davey had so many questions. Why wasn’t this reported? What happened inside that classroom? What provoked them to do this? So many questions that he didn’t think he’d ever get the answers to. He felt numb.

    He regained the strength to visit Crutchie again. He only seemed to get worse sense the last time he’d seen him. He just sat at Crutchie’s bedside, not having any more tears left to cry.

    A few more weeks passed, and eventually the Delancey’s were now locked behind bars, but at what cost? Crutchie still didn’t seem to be getting any better, Davey still doesn’t know how to cope. He’s losing his mind.

    He visited Crutchie again. This time, the only difference being that his arm was now out of the sling.

    “I love you, Crutchie. It’s been awhile sense I’ve last seen you…you and your smile, sense I’ve seen your eyes, sense I’ve seen…you. The real you. I don’t know how much longer it’s gonna be until your back. I’d wait an eternity for you. Just…come back, please. It’s hard without you.” He kissed Crutchie on his forehead, then on his lips, and then left for the last time.

    There wouldn’t be a next time. He got the call today. Crutchie was gone. His knees buckled beneath him as he fell to the floor of his bedroom while he sobbed.

    The person who he always looked to, the person who he just wanted another minute with, the person who he would give up his own soul to let him stay, take all his pain and inflict it onto himself to make Crutchie’s pain go away, the person who he would always look to, and would do anything to just…get back.

    He was lost. He didn’t know what to do.

    Medda said to do whatever he wanted with Crutchie’s stuff. She knew that they were close. She herself couldn’t bear to look at it all. All his posters, his phone, his backup forearm crutches…it’s all still there. Frozen in time from that night.

    He picked up Crutchie’s phone, and looked through it. He knew Crutchie hadn’t been hiding anything. He hoped to find happy memories. And they were there, a bittersweet feeling washed over Davey as he scrolled though all of their own memories.

    A photo of them at the fair with their friends. All of them at the fair. Davey and Crutchie front and center, Jack, Spot, and Race in the back. All smiling, having a good time. That wasn’t even a year ago.

    He clicked the phone down after looking at a few more. More photos of them all, but the last one he had taken of the both of them, just them, just relaxing on the couch. Right before it had happened.

    He just started sobbing. He brought his knees up to his chest once again, still wearing Crutchie’s hoodie.

    I’d wait for an eternity if it meant having a happy ending with you, Charlie.

Chapter Text

DAY EIGHTEEN: “AS THE WORLD CAVES IN.” DYSTOPIA / RUINS / ENVIRONMENTAL WHUMP

    They were surrounded.

    No escape. No weapons. Nowhere to go.

    Surrounded by zombies, the only thing they could do was look to each other.

    Jack grabbed Davey’s hands as the zombies only seemed to get closer. If they tried to run, they’d the just as dead as if they had stayed. There wasn’t anything to climb on, no human life around them.

    “Jack-“ Davey said in a quick panic. “What do we do?” Jack didn’t have an answer.

    “I- I don’t know.” Tears welled in Jacks eyes. This wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. He was supposed to finish high school, go to college for art, graduate, marry Davey. That all went down the drain when the apocalypse happened. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that anymore.

    Davey didn’t want it to go this way. He wanted a life with Jack- he wanted to go to college, get a degree in medicine, and marry Jack- hell- he even had a ring picked out already.

    Davey pressed their foreheads together as the zombies slowly inched closer.

    He brought his hands up to cup Jacks cheeks.

    “There’s so much I want to say and so little time…” He started. “I love you, Jackie.”

    “I love you to, Davey.” He muttered, just loud enough for Davey to hear it. “Til death do us part.”

    “Til death do us part.”

    Davey put his arms around Jacks waist, and Jack buried his face into Davey’s neck. In the midst of the apocalypse, the only thing they had left was each other.

    Even the zombies biting and gnawing at their skin couldn’t separate them. Clothes torn, blood dripping, limbs hanging on by a thread.

    Nothing separated them, not even death.

Chapter Text

DAY NINETEEN: “YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, LOST IN THE WILD.” DEHUMANIZATION / LIVING WEAPON / ON PATROL

    Casey Morris was a living weapon.

    He remembers the day he went missing VERY clearly. It’s hard to forget. It was late- he was alone. So of course the government took one look at him and went ’bingo.’

    They decided that maybe him having a crutch wasn’t the most efficient for what they planned on doing with him, so of COURSE they just had to get rid of the leg, and give him a prosthetic instead.

    It felt weird walking on two legs again, if you would count the fake one as a leg. He hadn’t been able to walk in…forever, it felt like.

    He still had a limp. The whole walking thing wasn’t as easy as he had thought. Maybe his memories erased his memories of how to walk along with all the others. He only had bits a pieces left- not that he could access them freely if he wanted to. One memory really stuck though- a boy his age, with blue eyes and short blond curls.

    It was the killing part that was the hardest, though. He knew that it would come up eventually, that’s what they needed him for, anyways.

    He didn’t recognize the boy in front of him at first. He’d passed right by him.

    They bumped into each other. He tried to ignore the boy, continuing to walk along.

    “Crutchie?” He didn’t understand why that nickname had rung a bell somewhere in the back of his head.

    Crutchie tilted his head. “What?” He was confused. He knew that he had recognized it enough to notice they the boy was talking to him, but he was still confused overall.

    The blond boy seemed just as dazed and confused as he was, tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to fall. “You don’t…you don’t remember?” There was a time in his life where that was the only thing people called him.

    “No.” He lied. “I’m sorry- but I don’t.” He tried to keep moving. He didn’t even know how he recognized him, let alone who he was, because he looked nothing like he used to. He wore all black clothing, black boots and a hidden weapon in his pocket, a knife.

    “That’s- thats not my name.”

    “Casey.”

    Thats what really got him to stop dead in his tracks. He turned back around, to look the boy in the eyes. His mind goes off of the rails that the government has set for his mind, allowing him to take control of his actions.

    “Race?” The memories seemed to flood back to him. He remembered the boy’s name, it all made sense now. This was the boy from his memories. The one he couldn’t forget.

    Race nodded. “That’s me.” Tears started to fall down Race’s face. He took a step closer to Crutchie.

    “You look different.” He wasn’t wrong. He thinks it’s the leg that prompted that.

    Crutchie nodded. He didn’t have much time. He took a step forward, holding Race’s hand in his own. “It’s…it’s really you?”

    Race nods again. “It’s me, Crutchie. Do you…remember that name?” Race asks.

    Crutchie nods. “Yeah- it’s faint but…it’s there.” 

    It happens in the blink of an eye, but Crutchie is pulled into a kiss, long and sweet. He’d almost forgot what it felt like, to kiss someone, to feel the warmth of love.

    He starts to lose control. He backs up immediately- he knows what they are capable of. They see Race as a threat. Something getting in the way of Crutchie’s missions.

    Race takes a step back, seeing how fast and quickly Crutchie acts to get away from him. He sees the panic and desperation in Crutchie’s eyes- something’s not right.

    ”Go- Go away. I- I can’t-“ Crutchie groans as he pulls at his hair, trying to regain control of his mind. It doesn’t work.

    Race does what he says in a mix of confusion and dejected that he has to leave so soon. He tries to run, but to no avail.

    Crutchie can’t control what he’s doing. He doesn’t want to do this.

    He grabs Race by the hand, pinning him up against the wall, reaching for the knife in his pocket.

    Race barely has any time to react. Once the knife is in Crutchie’s hand, he reached out and grabs it out of his grip, sending it tumbling to the ground with a small ping.

    Once Crutchie releases his grip off of Races hand from where it originally was pinning Races hand above the alleyway wall, Race shoves Crutchie to the ground, putting his foot on top of his chest to keep him pinned down.

    Crutchie tries reaching out for the knife, just laying down next to him inches away, but Race steps on his hand as well. He nearly loses his balance.

    Tears well down both boys faces. Race is confused as to why Crutchie would do this, Crutchie is confused why people are so cruel to make him this way. He doesn’t want to be in this situation right now, he’s confused why he can’t just be in full control of his own body.

    Races breathing picks up and speeds up. “What’s going on?” He asks. Crutchie struggles to get an answer out- not even in control of what comes out of his own mouth.

    He stutters something out, resisting. “I can’t- can’t control what I- I’m doing- I’m sorry.“ He can’t get anything else out.

    Races breath hitches. He’s at a loss for words.

    In a time where everything’s gone to shit, where nothing seems right, where he seems unlovable, Crutchie loved him. He had Crutchie.

    Race steps off of his hand, knowing that Crutchie can’t control what he’s doing. He knows that he’s a dead man if he does what he’s doing now.

    He steps off of Crutchie entirely. He backs up, leaning against the wall of the alley way, accepting his fate. There’s nothing that he can do.

    Crutchie’s forced to reach out for the knife, slowly sitting up and approaching Race where he sat on the ground.

    “Just do what you have to do.” Race weakly mutters out. He places his hand on top of Crutchie’s, staring up at him with his eyes all red and puffy, tears continuing to pour down his face, although with a bittersweet smirk on his face. He doesn’t know why he’s smiling. He just taking in the moment that he has with Crutchie in months, even if it’s not how he wanted this to go.

    Crutchie lets the tears pour down his face. It’s the only thing he’s really in control of right now.

    Crutchie fights back against the control, with the very little energy he has left, to say one last thing.

    “I’m sorry, I love you.”

    “I love you to.”

    Is all Race says, closing his eyes and taking his hand off of the life, allowing Crutchie to hold the blade up to this throat and cut.

    Race feels all of the warm blood pour down his chest, covering his clothes and the floor beneath them.

    The blade felt more peaceful then it gave him any pain. This was what he wanted all along, maybe just not under the hands of his lover.

    Crutchie wrapped his arms around him, dead in his arms, trying to keep the blood in. It was to late.

    The regained control, but it was to late. At what cost? All he could do now was sob anyways.

    He observed his features closer. His bright blue eyes now dull, his skin pale, his expression lifeless.

    I’m sorry.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY: “THATS NEW.” SYMPTOMATIC / FANCY EVENT / RESIGNATION

    ”Are you seriously still going to that fancy event with Katherine?” Davey asked, walking over to Jack from where he stood in his bedroom, putting on this suit and tie Medda bought him for special events like this one Katherine invited him to. Apparently, Pulitzer had some kind of announcement to make and Jack just needed to be there.

    Davey knew that Jack was sick. He could literally tell by just looking at him, that he seemed like he was going to just throw up and collapse at any second.

    “Yeah...yeah. I need to- I can’t just-“ Jack could barely form sentences from how sick he was. “I need to go to this. I already told Kath that- that I’m going.” 

    Davey just pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before he looked back up. He didn’t know what the hell to do, Jack refused to just stay home for once. He knew that him and Katherine were like best friends, after all, but he had to stop pushing himself to go to every single one of these events that she told him he could go to with her.

    ”You can’t be serious.” Davey muttered, annoyed.

    “Oh I’m serious! I’m fine- I just- I just can’t bail on her like that!” Jack replied while turning his head around to face Davey.

    “I can promise you that she will be fine if you miss one of these fancy events she drags you to.” Davey said exhausted. He’s been trying to convince Jack not to go for what felt like forever now.

    “I’m going- and that’s final!” Jack exclaimed. “I need to go. She said that-“

    “I don’t care about what Katherine said. You’re sick, and look like you’re about to throw up any minute.”

    Jack stopped. He continued to fidget with the buttons on his button up shirt, after struggling to tie the tie.

    Davey just stepped forward and started to do it for him. The room was so silent you couldn’t hear a pin drop, he knew that Davey was right. He knew that he shouldn’t go, he knew that he should have just stayed home. But no, he just had to be difficult.

    “Listen- I can’t force you to stay or do anything. But can you at least promise me that you aren’t gonna get sick?” Jack nodded.

    The promise was quickly broken. A few hours later, the event Katherine had asked him to go to was still going strong. Here he was, throwing up in the bathroom sink, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him, contimplating why he didn’t just listen to Davey.

    He could here Pulitzer say something over the speakers, a speech- something about resignation. Finally. But either way- whatever he was saying was drowned out by the door of the bathroom. After his speech had finished, the noice only got louder, Pulitzers voice being drowned out by the sounds of many different people talking at once.

    He reached for his phone- shit. He’d left it at the house when he was getting ready at Davey’s house earlier, sense he had already slept over at his house the night before.

    He wiped away the puke that still sat on us mouth with his sleeve. He didn’t know what to do. His phone was at home, he couldn’t call for Davey to get him sense he was the one who had dropped him off, he couldn’t do anything.

    The door behind him opened. He turned around, to be met by the one and only Katherine Pulitzer, the one who had invited him here.

    “Jack?” She asked, walking closer to him accompanied with the sound of her heels clicking on the floor. She wore a blue shimmery floor length dress, blue eyeshadow and a red lip, these beautiful crystal earrings, and had her acrylic nails painted white.

    Jack just nodded, and it was like the floor collapsed beneath him.

    His knees buckled beneath him, and he curled up with his knees tucked up against his chest, burying his face in them. He didn’t know what else he could really do, everything just seemed to hurt. Katherine came to sit right next to him.

    She wrapped her arms around him, trying to reassure him that he was going to be alright. Jack still wished that Davey was here, but it was still nice having Katherine at his side right now.

    Davey could sense that something was off the second that it happened. He knew something was off by the time that he dropped Jack off. The first thing that Davey noticed was the fact that Jack had left his phone behind, which he never does, he always has his phone on him in case someone needs to contact him, and it just went from there.

    Davey just got into his car, driving straight to the event. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he knew that something wasn’t right.

    He managed to sneak his way in, and found the bathroom where Jack was hiding. Once he got inside of the venue, he texted Katherine to see what was going on. She told him exactly where they were.

    He knocked on the door. “Jack? Hey- it’s Davey.”

  “Come in!”

    He opened the door, to see Jack seemingly broken and sitting collapsed on the ground, curling in on himself from the pain, and Katherine trying to comfort him. Davey hated seeing him like this.

    He ran up to him immediately. “Hey- I’m here now.” Davey ist rubbed circles into Jack back and that’s all he needed to break entirely.

    The drive back home way fairly quite- just Jacks soft sniffles and the occasional whimper.

    Once the two of them got to Davey’s house, he changed out of his suit and lazily sprain himself across Davey’s bed.

    It felt good to finally be back home.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-ONE: “HOLD MY SOUL, BROKE MY BONES.” KNEELING / MAKESHIFT SPINT / BRAINWASHED

    “Leave him alone.” Spot stated, walking towards the much older newsies who started attacking a much smaller newsie then themselves. The younger newsies didn’t seem to be any older then ten, and seeing him on the ground like that made Spots blood boil. The older newsies weren’t wearing any red- they weren’t from Brooklyn. All Spot knew was that they didn’t have any permission to be on his turf right now.

    ”What are you gonna do about it then?” One of the older newsies taunted, crouching over a bit to reach Spots level.

    Spot fought back the urge to just start wailing on these guys, and instead gave them a confused and weirded out look.

    “You to do realize that you’se both on my turf, right?” Spot said sternly, maybe they just didn’t recognize him? He wasn’t usually used to newsies not recognizing him. Sure, in his past, there’s been a few who knew the name and just not his face, but…he still gave them a chance before he decided his final judgement.

    “Sure, bud.” One of the older newsies tried reaching out to ruffle Spots hair, but he swatted the hand away before he could even reach his hair.

    “Don’t touch me.” Spot gave the two of them a nasty look. He looked down at the smaller newsie, and signaled for him to leave. He took that opportunity and left.

    Now, it was just him and the two much taller newsies.

    Spot took another step forward. “Leave. Now.” He barked out.

    The older newsies turned to each other and snickered before turning their heads back to Spot.

    “And who do you thing you are?” 

    “Spot fucking Conlon that’s who I think I am.”

    The two newsies didn’t recognize the name. Or so- that’s Spot thought.

    The two of them had recognized Spot, just hadn’t thought that he would be to much of a threat. They were wrong, of course, but with Spot cornered and alone, Spot wasn’t sure he could take them alone.

    They both stepped forward. They both looked at the other again…and one swung.

    The hit landed at Spots jaw, but Spot regained his balance and attempted to gain some strength, refusing to go down without a fight.

    He got some hits in, down get him wrong, just enough to send the two of them flying to the ground. He tried getting away, but with an ankle (or his leg? He wasn’t exactly sure where his pain was coming from,) that he was sure was broken, there wasn’t much that he could do.

    One for up and yanked his collar from behind, making him collapse and fall to the ground.

    He landed on something wrong. Now, he was SURE that his ankle was broken- or at least twisted in some way, shape, or form.

    Spot was breathing so hard that he could barely hear his own thoughts. His heart rate spiked, seeming to only speed up as the two of them got closer. Tachycardia- as the professionals called it. Spot- or, any of the newsies for a matter of fact- bothered for any fancy terms. But Spot was about 110% that he was about to be hearing a whole lot more of them from where this was going.

    One stepped closer and kneeled in front of him. All Spot could do was stare at him with wide eyes, hoping that the two of them would do anything more.

    The newsie laughed at the look on Spots face. The other came up, placing his boot on top of Spots chest to keep him down, and no amount of struggling could get Spot free.

    The other pulled something out of his pocket- a pocket knife- flicked it open, and jabbed the damn thing in Spots thigh.

    Spot tried to scream, but nothing came out. He could feel his own warm blood pool beneath him, without even being able to see what was going on.

    And with that, the last thing he saw was the two newsies panicked faces as the ran away, leaving the king of Brooklyn for dead.

    Race found him not to much later. They had sent out an entire search party to look for him. Race insisted ok going to look for him. It was dark out by now, and it was starting to seem like a lost cause.

    And as much as Race wanted Spot to be found, he just wasn’t expecting to be the one to find him.

    The state that Spot was in was nearly impossible to even begin to put into words. He had bruises and small open wounds that continued to bleed all over him. He seemed passed out, and was laying in a pool of his own blood.

    The thing that concerned Racetrack the most was the open stab wound still bleeding on his thigh.

    “SPOT?!” He cried out, immediately rushing to Spots side, kneeling in front of him. “SPOT?!” 

    Spot attempted to open his eyes, and while the task was hard- he managed to get it done for a small amount of time.

    “Racer.” He weakly muttered out. He flinched at the sight of Race though, being reminded of how the two older newsies had knelt over him before. He felt blood bubbling up in the back of his throat, but tried pushing it back.

    “Hey- hey- stay with me, ok? I’m right here.” Race tried to stay calm, hoping that Spot couldn’t hear the slight tremor in his voice.

    “I’m a goner, Race.” Spot said faintly.

    “Don’t say that.” Race replied. He was, but that’s not something that Race didn’t want to admit.

    Race ripped off a part of one of his own shirts, wrapping it around Spots thigh to try and stop the bleeding.

    He tied the thing as tight as he could, and held his arms out to pick Spot up to carry him back to the lodging house for more help. Spot flinched with the very little strength he had left, and Race seemed to have this empathetic look on his face for Spot- but he eventually allows for Race to carry him back.

    Spot was picked up bridal style as Race tan as fast as he could back to the Brooklyn lodging house.

    The makeshift splint didn’t seem to hold for as long as Race would have liked. It started to bleed again, and much more then Race would like to admit.

    Races mind started to pace and race with tons of different thought all at once, and he started to panic. He slowed down to look down at the wound, Spots blood now running down the lower part of Races shirt and pants.

    Only one thing was left on his mind- get back to the lodging house. 

    Entering the lodging house in a panic, he swung the door open and working a total of two seconds Spot was now laying on top of a bed, with multiple newsies already at his side to help patch and stop the wound from bleeding.

    Race could only stand and watch. Tears blurred his vision, which he hadn’t allowed to fall until now. He leaned against the bunk bed closest to him, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do.

    Multiple different Brooklyn newsies surrounded both him and Spot, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on.

    “HEY! Back up away from them!” Hotshot yelled while ushering the other newsies away from the two of them. The others all followed suit, following Hotshots directions.

    All commotion in the room stopped the newsies working on Spot stopped.

    “Why- why are you stopping?” Race asked concerned. “Why did you- no.” Race knew what this meant.

    “No- nonononono- he was-“ Race stumbled over his words. He didn’t know what to say, the person who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with being gone like this.

    He rushed over, looking at the state Spot was in. The other newsies around him took off their hats.

    “This isn’t- no. He’s here he’s- PLEASE! Help him! He was just-“ 

    Race didn’t know what to say, looking down at Spot. He could see just how bad it was now in the light, how pale he was, the cuts and bruises all over him, how much blood there was, how his clothes were now torn in new places, all of it.

    That wasn’t the only thing he looked at, you know. He looked over at the other things- the Spot Conlon that he knew before this even happened. His messy jet black hair he loved to play with, his busted lip he’d always pull Spot into alleyways to kiss, his scars all over him that Race loved. Just…Spot. 

    Race knelt down at his bedside, taking his hand in his own and placing his head down. All he could do was sob.

    Spot Conlon was dead.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-TWO: “ALL THE BATTLES I WANT TO WIN, NOTHING MATTERS BUT GIVING IN.” SELF SACRIFICE / COLLAR / HUNTED FOR SPORT

    Jack and Race ran as far as they could through the streets of Manhattan. You would think with how busy the city was- there would be more spots to hide.

    Turns out, that when you really need one, there’s not.

    Ducking into corners and different alleyways, nothing seemed to work. The hunters still seemed to catch up every time without fail.

    “Over here!” Jack pointed out, with Race dragging him behind him by the hand.

    The two of them ducked into a dark alley, being cornered in. Both of their heads rushed with tons of thoughts, neither knowing what to say.

    Race brought his wings up around Jack and himself, trying to protect him, as his back hit the bricks of the alleyway wall. Jacks ears and tail dropped in fear, although not being visible, clinging onto Race. Race kept his arms around Jack.

    They only got closer. Race tried to fly, but they were quick to come in with a response.

    ”I don’t think you should do that- it won’t end well.” The pair only came in closer around each other.

    Being hunted for fun wasn’t where the two of them saw each other not that long ago. A few years ago when they first met- they kept it hidden. But now? It’s not really an option anymore.

    Races knees buckled beneath him, and he sat both himself and Jack onto the ground. There wasn’t anywhere for the two of them to go anyways.

    One held up a gun. Their pupils dilated, widening in shock and fear.

    “Please- please no. Don’t shoot.”Jack weakly muttered from where he was curled up against Race.

    The man wielding the gun didn’t bring it down. He only brought it to Jacks forehead after with a laugh. Jack looked up in shock, immediately going silent.

    What was he supposed to do? Be loud? Be scared? Call for help? Cry? Scream? Let him shoot me? Stand up for myself? 

    Jack allowed his tears to fall down his face while he stood, letting go of Race for a second.

    “You can take me all you want- but just leave him alone.” Jacks voice cracked, raw and angry.

    The man laughed again. “Oh, I’m not letting you two get away that easily.” He slowly brought the gun down from Jacks forehead, now aiming for Race.

    No.

    Anyone but him- please. Anyone but Race. Race felt like the only person Jack had left. Race was Jacks other half, the one person he couldn’t live without. He’s Jacks oxygen, the thing he needs to live. 

    Race bravely stood up in front of Jack, wings and arms spread out in front of Jack in a confident stance while the man didn’t lower his aim, but this time Race now looked him in the eyes. “Jack- go.” Race softly told him, just loud enough so he could hear him. “Now.” Jack took that and ran.

    “If you’re taking him, you’re taking me to.”

    BANG!

    A loud shot rang through the street, and the man was gone. All that remained was the large gaping hole in Race’s wing, bleeding and burning.

    Race yelped put in pain, falling to the ground from the amount of pressure put onto his wing. With there now being tons of small cuts and scrapes all over him from the impact.

    “Racer?” Jack turned the corner. Race knew that he hadn’t gone far, with him not having much time in between him leaving and now, as well all the fact that Jack refuses to leave Race’s side in times like this. Race never complained, though, he thought it was really sweet.

    “Im right here-“ Race choked out. “Right here.”

    Jack blinked away the tears in his eyes. He needed to keep it together. He ran over to him, and brought his hands over the wound, trying to check if it exited, and to try and keep the blood from pouring out.

    It did.

    Shit- no. Nonononnnononno- this isn’t- stop. No. This isn’t real, it’s all a dream, it’s all-

    Within a blink of an eye, Jack picked Race up bridal style, attempting to bring him back to the lodging house to get him back to safety.

    But were they really safe anywhere?

    Jack pushed that thought aside- he had one thought and one thought only on his mind, get Race help.

    Race took his wings, and despite the immense pain he was in, wrapped them around the two of them, making sure to not obstruct Jacks view. He brought his face down, burying it into the crook of Jacks neck, not having the strength to keep it up. And as he wrapped his arms around Jack, he closed his eyes. Everything hurt- he just wanted it to stop.

    “Race? Are you still with me?” Race barely had enough strength to nod- let alone talk to respond to him- but he did anyways.

    “Yeah- yeah I’m right here, Jackie…” He weakly muttered out, starting to fall limp. He couldn’t bring himself to move much longer.

    Jack picked up his pace, not caring about the blood pouring down his shirt. (Because the thought of losing Race was to much to bear.)

    ”You can’t die on me, ok?” Race weakly nodded, already feeling his continence slip away from him.

    The rest was a large blur of tears, yelling, and lots of blood.

    Jack wrapped himself around Race that night, burying his face into Race’s hair and playing with it after they finished taking care of his damaged wing, while be cautious of it. He pressed a soft kiss to Race’s forehead. He’d caused this.

    Jack felt like he was the one to blame for this entire thing, honestly. He had allowed Race to get shot. He should have stayed- insisted that he stay. Maybe things would be different. Maybe it could be him- not Race. He knew that hiding his ears under his hat and his tail in his pants was way easier then hiding two fully grown wings.

    Oh how Jack loved those wings. Their pure white color, and just how soft they were. Honestly, they feel like clouds.

    Race started to stir, and Jack made sure that he didn’t accidentally cause his wing to get damaged in the process.

    Race mumbled something before Jack could translate what he was saying. “Jackie…?” He said quietly, not being sure about what was going on for as second before realizing.

    Jack perked his head up, still playing with Races hair. “Racer.” Jack cupped Race’s cheeks, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. Once pulling back, he noticed the new scars on his face. A busted lip and small scrapes down the side of his face from where his head hit the hard alleyway floor, still bleeding.

    He didn’t let go yet, still lightly turning Race’s head to the side to observe the new marks further.

    “Do you feel those?” Jack asked- observing them closer then he had before. Race shook his head.

    “No, not really…I mean- I can kinda feel it I guess? Still kinda hurts though.” Jack took his hands away from Races face, getting both him and Race up so he could take care of them.

    As Jack pulled out the cotton pads to stop them from bleeding, Race groaned. “Jack- I’m fine. Seriously. I’ll be alright, it’s just a few cuts and scrapes.” Jack gave Race a weird look.

    “You just got shot, Racer.” Jack stated. “I wouldn’t consider that ‘alright.’”

    Race sighed and let Jack take care of the scrapes, cleaning out the wounds with water.

    Finally done bandaging him up, Race stayed at Jacks side, holding onto his arm and wrapping his wing (well, moving the damaged one as much as he could without damaging it further,) around the two of them again, the same way he had when Jack was carrying him back. Jack shoved back the blush he got from this, and Race thought it was adorable.

    Sitting back down on Race’s bed, Race leaning onto Jacks shoulder, and Jack leaning his head on top of Races, there was nothing else to say. They were inseparable.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-THREE: “HOW’D I GET TO THIS PLACE?” INTUBATION / ICU / CHOKING

    Spot stood undecided in front of his bathroom sink, staring down at the pills in his hand, contemplating if to take them or not.

    Would anyone remember him? Would anyone miss him? What would happen? Where would all his stuff go? What would Jack think?

    Jack.

    Oh, Jack. The boy Spot never thought he could have, the boy that he loved with all his heart, the boy who’s shoulder he could always lean on, the boy who was always there, the boy who he had fallen in love with. The boy who he was now leaving.

    Spot pushed that thought aside, untwisting the cap of the pills open.

    Every thought ran through Spots head, but none he had the answers to.

    Quickly emptying the bottle by swallowing the pills and setting it on the counter, he didn’t know if he should be regretting his decision or being glad that everything was finally over.

    Nothing around him felt real- seeming like this was all just a dream.

    His knees buckled beneath him, causing him to drop to the floor, waiting for everything to kick in. He felt unbelievably numb. Spots eyes started to close, and his vision started to go blurry, and he didn’t have the strength to keep them open for much longer.

    Trying to keep standing, fighting the medication- regretting his decision.

    The decision to stand didn’t last for so long. Dropping to the floor again, sitting on his knees, one hand weakly keeping it’s grip on the sink, he knelt over, groaning and giving in and letting the sour mildew taste take over his mouth.

    Why had he done this, leaving Jack to find him?

    Dropping entirely on the floor, laying in his own guilt of his decisions, his breathing slowed, and heart rate slowed down.

    I’m sorry, Jack.

    Just like Spot had predicted, Jack was the one who had found him, not to long after.

    He had originally came over to help out Spot with homework- the homework that Spot forgot about- but all plans of that were thrown out the window once he found him half dead, lying on the bathroom floor.

    Jack ran up to the shorter boys side, checking for a pulse. There was one- but it was extremely weak.

    “Spottie?” Jack called out to him. No response. “SPOT?!” He shook him slightly. Still no response.

    Jack has those memory’s in his head that refuse to go away. The ambulance ride there, waiting in the ambulance, everything.

   Jack wanted to scream after seeing Spot. He looked so much worse then when he had found him…but he was alive. Even with all the tubes and wires sticking to him, he was alive. But it didn’t feel that way.

    Jack refused to leave his side. He didn’t tell anyone what had happened, just wept at Spots bedside. He needed answers.

    “Oh Spottie…” He started. “Why did you do this? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack wiped away his tears with the one hand that wasn’t holding Spots. He didn’t have much to say anymore. 

    Spot slipped away not to long after, And Jack can still remember exactly what Spot looked like before all of this, after all.

    His tan skin, his dark brown eyes that looked almost black until the light hit them at just the right angle to make them turn a honey brown. His short dark brown curls, every single freckle on his body no matter where they sat.

    Jack felt numb on the ride back to the house, Medda having to pick him up.

    Stepping out of the car, Medda stopped to look at Jack. Jack followed not to soon after. “Jackie, sweetie,” Medda started. Tears already started to well in Jacks eyes. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

    “Can you please tell me what’s going on? What happened?” Medda let out her arms supportingly, and Jack just ran right into them. He was a mess, and didn’t even know where to start.

    He couldn’t even bring himself to look up at Medda. “He- Spot he- he’s gone. He overdosed, Medda. He’s gone.” Jack didn’t want to believe the last part.

    All he wanted was to be left alone in his room, because Medda’s hug just kept reminding him of Spots,  because he didn’t want to lash out at anybody.

    The bed felt empty without Spot there. It felt cold, like it was too big to fit one person, meant for two.

    And if Jack cried his eyes out that night, missing Spot, knowing that nothing was ever going to be the same, that was just a secret that had to be kept to himself.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-FOUR: “I MUST CONFESS THAT I FEEL LIKE A MONSTER.” CAME BACK WRONG / PAINFUL TRANSFORMATION / AMNESIA

    Looking into the alleyway, Jack wasn’t sure what to do. Approach? Attack? Scream? Cry? Run away? Especially at this time of night, it wasn’t the best thing to do. But…curiosity killed the cat, he supposed. But either way, he thought he was a dead man walking. Might as well die trying to find out.

    The thing inside of the alleyway didn’t seem entirely like a creature…but not entirely human either. The creature had wings, tainted and stained with blood, tattered and white, but in the dark Jack wasn’t entirely sure of the color. The creature had pale skin that was now covered in scratches and goosebumps from the freezing cold. What he couldn’t see was the things face.

    But Jack could tell that the thing was cold even from where he stood in the alleyway.

    Slowly approaching the creature, he could get a better look at him. His clothes were torn…and seems familiar. He shoved that thought aside. He knew who it was- but it couldn’t be him.

    The creature flinched away, letting out a yelp of pain when it attempted to move its leg. Despite the extreme pain in its leg, it kept moving.

    The creature wanted to stop moving. Why? He wasn’t completely sure. The sight of the other boy looked oddly familiar, ringing a bell in the back of his mind. He could trust this person. But- at the same time he couldn’t. He should be scared. He stopped moving, despite him knowing that he should keep moving. This was a stranger, after all. But…the boy didn’t seem like a stranger. He trusted him, for…whatever reason. But he still should keep moving.

    So why didn’t he keep moving?

    “Hey! Hey wait- I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to help.” Jack put his hands up in a surrender. The creature used his wings to cover his face, still not being completely sure of what to do.

    Jack slowly took of his jacket, wrapping it around the creatures shoulders, hoping to provide some sort of warmth.

    With the jacket on its shoulders, the creature slowly brought its wings down so the jacket could rest nicely on his shoulders, revealing his face. He had brown eyes that were so dark they looked black, and a small scar on his bottom lip.

    Jack recognized who it was immediately. “Spot? It’s Jack.” He asked the boy in front of him, now kneeling to sit in front of him. The boy seemed confused by the question for a second- but eventually nodded his head.

    Jacks eyes widened. “It’s really you?” Spot was almost unrecognizable. He had trouble processing the fact that it was him. Spot had gone missing MONTHS ago.

    Spot nodded. It really was him. Jack brought his hand out, and Spot flinched away at the sudden movement. Jack quickly retreated his hand back.

    Spot slowly brought his hand up, his meeting Jacks. The two of them looked in the others eyes, before quickly looking away. Not the time, I guess?

    Bringing his hand away, Spot tried to ignore the empty feeling that came along with it.

     “How did this even happen to you?” Jack asked softly, his voice not going above a whisper as to not scare the boy in front of him.

    Spot shrugged his shoulders, not being able I get out a response no matter how much he desperately wanted to. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. It had been this way for awhile. He hadn’t been able to speak in forever.

    Jack tilted his head to the side. “Can you talk?” He said gently. Spot shook his head. Jacks eyes widened once more. What happened to him?

    Jack slowly reached his hand out again. “Is it alright if I touch you?” He asked. “I just need to see what’s going on.” Spot didn’t know what his answer was

    He knew that he needed help. But at the same time…he didn’t want it. Sure, he knew that he could trust Jack, but that didn’t change the matter. He didn’t want to rely on anyone to save him.

    He ended up nodding, and Jack slowly started to examine the extent of his injury’s. And although he knew he had to of know the boy in his past, he was the one he seemed closed to. He was the first one he started to remember, anyways.

    He flinched again at the slight touch of his leg, retreating it back and only causing the damage to worsen. Jack retreated his hands once again.

    Jack didn’t know what to do…so he did one of the things he did know how to do.

    He called Race. He didn’t have to call him often, but the blond boy owed him a favor. He knew that he would be up anyways.

    “What up?” Race asked as he picked up the phone.

    “Listen- I don’t have much time. But I need you to pick me and Spot up, and-“

    “SPOT?!” Race cried out.

    Jack interrupted him. “Yes…but we don’t have time for questions. I’m sending you my location now, just get here quickly.”

    “Why the fuck are you in some creepy ass all-“

    “No time! Bye!” Jack quickly hung up the phone, looking over at Spot once more. The smaller boy had tears rolling down his cheeks.

    Jack quickly moved over to sit next to Spot, slowly bringing his hands up to his cheeks to wipe away the tears. He didn’t know wether it was from the pain, the situation, or whatever it was that made him like this, but no words needed to be said.

    A car quickly pulled up to the street not even a minute later. Pit stepped Race, in a hoodie, pajama pants, and some converse sneakers.

    “Jack?” He called out, before noticing the two boys sitting in front of him. His eyes widened at the sight of them. He to at first had a hard time processing that it really was Spot sitting in front of him. Spot flinched and hid his face in him wings again, until Jack looked back over to him.

    “Hey- it’s alright. It’s just Race.” Spot again moved his wing again, allowing Race to really look at him. It’s really him.

   Race stared in disbelief. “So that’s really-“

    “Yup.”

    “Is it alright If I pick you up? I mean- considering the shape your leg is in I don’t think that it’s a good idea to walk on it.” Jack asked. Spot quickly nodded. He didn’t know why he didn’t think before answering, it just felt like second nature to him.

    Jack quickly moved away for a second, picking Spot up bridal style to bring him over to the car.

    Spot wrapped his arms around Jacks shoulders, letting out a small whimper from the pain and letting his head rest on top of Jacks shoulder to sleep. (Something he hadn’t gotten in a long time.)

    In the back of Race’s car, Spot still resting his head on Jacks shoulder, Jack started to play with his hair out of habit.

    Race started asking questions. “How did you even…how did this even happen to him? He’s been missing for MONTHS, Jack.” Race started to pull up to Medda’s house.

    “I- I’m not sure. All I know is that I saw him in the alleyway, and I went to investigate.” He didn’t look up from Spot. He noticed the bags under his eyes. He needed to know what had happened to him.

    With Race opening the door for them, Jack placed Spot down onto Medda’s couch so he could rest.

    “MEDDA!” Race shouted up the stairs. It was late…but they didn’t really have another chance, did they? Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, and then emerged Medda from upstairs in a soft robe and slippers.

    “Race? What are you doing here…it’s like twelve in the morn-“ Her eyes caught attention of Spot and Jack. Jack was sitting on the floor in front of Spot, still raking his fingers through his hair and playing with it. “Is that Spot?” Medda asked. Just as Jack thought earlier, he was unrecognizable to the point where if you didn’t know him very well, you wouldn’t be able to recognize him at all.

    Jack nodded his head. “Yup..it’s him.” He didn’t look up from Spot.

    To say that Medda was confused was an understatement.

    She walked over to him, taking notice that he was asleep. She assessed his injuries, wincing at the sight of his leg.

    “His leg is all mangled…what are we supposed to do?” Race asked quietly, as to not wake the sleeping boy on the couch.

    “I’m still not sure. I don’t want to bring him there yet- have you seen how they treat missing people who just mysteriously reappeared again? Especially with the fucking WINGS?” Jack was right. The wings for one would probably make the news station just make him their next thing to report on.

    “I don’t need him all stressed out that, he’s literally been missing for the past couple of months. Who knows what he’s been through?” Jack and Race looked at each other, and then back to Medda.

    “What do we do?” Race asked again, looking to Medda for answers.

    Medda shook her head. “I think we have to bring him to the hospital. We don’t really have another choice here, hun.” She looked over to Jack. Jack looked back over to Spot.

    He nodded. “Alright…” He allowed himself to trail off.

    Just as Jack had predicted, it was chaos. 

    Within the first thirty minutes of them being there, they bombarded the three of them with questions. (Thankfully, Spot was in surgery, so they couldn’t ask him anything.)

    They eventually left them alone though when they all realized that they didn’t have any answers to their questions. Honestly, they didn’t. Spot can’t even talk right now, so how would they?

   The next few weeks after that was filled with lots of recovery and speech therapy.

    Spot could now get a few words out while stuttering, but not a lot more.

    Spot was getting extremely pissed off at himself. He couldn’t even go a single sentence without stuttering.

    He banged his fist against the wall and put his head in his hands. He was sitting on Jacks bed, (because Medda had said that he could stay over,)  attempting to speak. No matter what though, even as he kept trying, he only kept stuttering.

    “F-FUCK!” Shouted out. Jack only left the room for a total of two minutes.

    Jack came back into the room in a hurry, hearing the loud bang and assuming that something had been knocked over.

    “What happened?” Jack asked after realizing that Spot must have banged his hand against the table again, noticing how red it was.

    “Ca-can’t s-sp-speak.” Spot didn’t look up at Jack, even as Jack put his arm around his shoulders. (Actually- it gave Spot more of a reason to hide his face. He didn’t want to admit how red his face was.)

    “Don’t work yourself up over that.” He stated. Spot couldn’t help it. He was so tired of all the interviews, all the speech therapy, all the stuttering, all of it.

    Spot just leaned on Jacks shoulder, trying to ignore the situation at hand.

    Later on, about a week later, Medda had allowed him to stay there for as long as he needed, her resigning being that “You’re here all the time anyways, so why not? We have a spare bedroom that no one’s using anyways.” 

    Spot slowly moved in, his posters lining the walls and making the space his own. It was closer to the hospital anyways, and closer to Jack, so he at least he had a reason to stay there.

    Spot sat with his head in Jacks lap as he continued to work on a school project.

    “Whe-when am I gon-gonna be able t-to go b-back to sc-school? I mean I ha-hat-hated it but…it get-gets boring wait-waiting for y-you to ge-get back.”

    “You don’t think that the wings already freak out enough people at the hospital?” Jack let out a laugh that Spot returned.

    “B-but its funny see-seeing the look o-on their fa-faces! Ima-imagine wha-what the pe-people at school wou-would look l-like.” Spot couldn’t stop laughing at just thinking of what they’d look like. “And it would g-give me an excu-excuse to do the liber-libery spikes ev-every day aga-again.”

    “Oh my god the liberty spikes.” Jack looked away from Spot and tried bringing his focus back to his project, but the grin on his face wouldn’t go away.

    Spot wanted to just kiss the grin off of his face.

    Another week later, Spot started going back to school, his cast getting taken off the day before. First day back, he was already exhausted.

   “H-how do you ge-get kids to sto-stop bug-bugging you?” Spot asked Jack, wandering into his room and draping himself face down onto his bed. Jack just let out a chuckle.

    “Not sure…people keep bugging you about the wings?”

    “Y-yup.” Spot let a small grin creep onto his face as he picked his head up, looking back at Jack.

    In reality, it was a whole lot worse. Being cornered in the back of the changing room wasn’t the most ideal first day back.

    “Back a-away fro-from me.” Spot said sternly, hands balled up into fists.

    The taller kids just grinned. Spot didn’t let any fear creep through his expression though.

   One pulled out a lighter, the other grabbing Spot by the wrists and pinning him up on the wall. Spot knew what was coming next.

   Back at where he was captured, they had done the same thing to him. Only, the only part that these old kids didn’t do was jab him with tons of needles to see what they would do to him.

    Spot couldn’t speak. His memories still being wiped away, (or, at least he thought they were at the time, they had only been shoved to the back of his mind where he couldn’t remember any of them at the time.)

    He could only cry and struggle in the grips as they poked and prodded him with needles, then watching and enjoying the pain they put him through.

    Spot still remembers how getting those wings felt. The burning and painful feeling of them tearing though his skin, the sheer amount of blood he lost…it’s a lot.

    What Spot didn’t remember is how he ended up spilling this story to Jack. (Had he really been talking out loud?)

    All he knows is that now, his head is against Jacks chest in a tight bear hug, Jacks hands rubbing up and down on his back. He wasn’t crying, already being so numb to the story from how many times he’s had to tell it to the news, the police, the list goes on.

    “Listen,” Jack stated, lifting Spots head and cupping his cheeks. “I’m right here- I’ll see if I can get your schedule changed. You shouldn’t have to worry about them.” Spot nodded and brought Jack back into a hug, this time burying his face into Jacks hair.

    This time, pulling out of the hug, and quickly pulling Jack into a kiss. Why, you ask? Spot wasn’t sure. He assumed it had something to do with the fact that he’s been keeping these feelings hidden for far to long. He couldn’t take this anymore.

    The most surprising part to Spot was that Jack kissed him back.

    Spots hand darting to Jack’s hair, and the other on his waist, pushing him onto his back, Spot left everything else behind. Nothing else mattered right now.

    Pulling out of the kiss, Spot was still nervous as to what Jack was going to say.

    Jack grinned at Spot from where he was laying under him.

    “Odd way to ask me to be your boyfriend, Conlon.”

    Spot shot a smirk right back at him and pulled him right back into another kiss, covering the two of them with his wings. The two of them weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: “HAVE YOU EARNED YOUR STRIPES?” LOST FAITH / COLLISION COURSE / LEFT TO DIE

    Jack was LOSING it. He wasn’t sure what to do anymore, after the whole fight. He didn’t want to remember any of it. Crutchie getting arrested…he didn’t want to remember that.

    His knees buckling beneath him, bringing him to the floor, he didn’t know what else to do other then to hold his head in his hands and cry. This entire situation he had put them was his fault, anyways.

    “Jack?” A voice called from beneath the ladder, hearing his sobs.

    Shit. “Go away. I’m fine.” Jack voice cracked. He didn’t need any visitors right now. He didn’t need anyone seeing him like this.

    He could practically feel the eye roll from where he sat.

    Looking at who climbed up the ladder, he noticed that it was Davey, the last person he wanted to see him in a state like this. He loves Davey, don’t get him wrong, but he didn’t need to let this persona he’s made for himself break around him.

    To say that Davey was shocked to see Jack up here like this would be an understatement. He I immediately rushed over to him, sitting next to him and wrapping his arms around him.

    “What’s going on?” Davey asked after a moment of silence. Jack took a second to find the right words.

    “It’s all my fault, Davey.” He said through his sobs.

    “What are you talking about?” Davey was confused.

    “Everything. It’s all my fault. Crutchie’s in the Refuge, everyone’s hurt, all of it.” Jack mumbled while still keeping his head in his hands, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down his face.

    “Jack…none of this is your fault.”

    Jack took his head out of his hands to look back up at Davey.

    “Stop lying. It’s my fault and you know it.” Jack stood up and crossed to the other side of the penthouse. “It’s ALL my fault. Don’t be stupid, Dave. Maybe if I hadn’t started the strike-“ 

    “I was the one who even suggested the strike in the first place. It’s my fault.” Davey stood up, crossing to the other side of the penthouse and grabbing Jacks hand.

    Jack didn’t have anything to say, he just looked down at Davey’s hand, holding his own. That stupid fuzzy feeling came back. It always came whenever the they touched, made eye contact, or just…existed in each other’s presence, honestly.

    Jack wanted the fuzzy feeling to stop. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it meant, but he knew that it was no good.

    “The strike isn’t the only thing I’m to blame for, Dave.” He whispered so quietly, that Davey almost didn’t hear him. “I’m the reason that Crutchies in the Refuge. I should have done something- ANYTHING- and maybe, just maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

    He immediately pulled his hand away from Davey’s away from his own to stop the fuzzy feeling- and with that alone, he recognized what that feeling was.

    Love.

    He shoved that thought away. He couldn’t afford to worry about that right now.

    He moved back to the other side of the penthouse, starting to pace back and fourth, hands reaching into his hair and pulling at it.

    Jack just kept looking down at his shoes, eyes shut tight as to not let more tears spill.

   Davey followed immediately after him, and not knowing what to do, he stepped in front of him, grabbing at his wrists and gently pulling them out of Jacks hair, backing Jack up ever so slightly, practically pinning him up against the wall.

    “Jackie.” Jack blushed at the nickname, not being able to meet Davey’s gaze. “I need you to listen to me. This. Isn’t. Your. Fault.” Jack wanted to burst into tears just listening to Davey.

    “But it is.” Jack said firmly, now being able to look Davey in the eyes. “This whole thing could have been avoided if I had just-“

    In a flash of impulse, Davey closed the gap between the two of them, leaning in and pressing a firm yet sweet kiss to Jacks lips.

    Davey doesn’t know why he did it. He really doesn’t. He just kissed this guy who he had barley met a few weeks ago, and the most surprising part was that Jack was kissing him BACK. Even with that- Davey was scared as to what Jack would think of him, this was illegal, after all. But he didn’t care, allowing his hands to dart to Jacks waist. Would he hate him? Despise him? Not want to talk to him anymore? Want to stop being friends?

    Jack was glad Davey shut him up, his fingers finally getting a chance to rummage through the taller boys hair. He’s secretly been waiting for the boy to just confess it already, noticing the glares from afar and returning them, after all. But how he was doing it right now was the last thing he had expected from David Jacobs of all people.

    Pulling out of the kiss for air, breathing heavily and just looking at the mess he’s made of Davey, a smirk grew on his face.

    “You look like such a mess.” Jack said with a laugh. Davey shot him a grin back, pressing their foreheads together.

    “I’m assuming that this isn’t casual?” Jack chuckled at that.

    “Nope.”

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-SIX: “NOTHING LIKE A RELAPSE TO REHASH THE KID WHO WAS SCARED.” RELAPSE / DRAWN CURTAINS / POWER CUT

    Pressing down on the freshly reopened wounds, Davey felt nothing more then dread and regret as he stood over the bathroom sink, the blood never seeming to stop. He already felt dizzy and weak, like he was about to collapse in on himself.

    “Shit.” He muttered, pressing down harder on the bleeding cuts on top of his wrist. Already feeling the tears sting and prick at his eyes, he wasn’t sure what to do. Knees buckling underneath him, bringing him kneeling on the floor, blood still trickle my down his arm and onto the floor, he only had one thought.

    Had I gone to deep?

    Walking into the Jacobs’ home, Jack noticed one thing immediately. The lights were off, and the house was only illuminated by candlelight and the very small amount of light that the sun shone through the windows drawn curtains as it set.

    A soft knock was heard on the door.

    “Davey?” Jacks hand reluctantly reached for the doorknob, fearing what could be on the other side.

    Davey managed to get out a weak groan. There was no use hiding this now. “Come in.”

    Walking into the bathroom, looking down at his boyfriend practically half dead on the floor, the fresh cuts on his wrist dripping blood down onto the floor, he tried to keep it together.

    Rushing over to Davey’s side, taking his wrist into his hand and taking the wet washcloth that was recently discarded onto the rim of the bathroom sink, he tried to keep any more blood from spilling.

    “Jesus Davey…” Was a Jack could mutter out, continuing to apply pressure. Davey weakly looked over to Jack, a small grimace visible on his face from the pain.

    Jack looked right back at him, eyes softening. He had so many questions, but none of them he could answer right now.

    The bleeding eventually stopped, and after bringing Davey to his room, bandaging up his wrist, that’s when he finally asked the question.

    “If you don’t mind me asking…” He started off softly. “How come all of the lights are off? I mean- it’s never usually this dark in here.” Davey looked away to the side, not being able to look Jack in he eyes.

    “Ever sense my dad got laid off of work…things haven’t been the best. It’s just harder to keep stuff working. That’s why my parents aren’t here right now, trying to get it fixed, Sarah’s staying over at Kath’s, and Les is at his friends house.” He looked back up at Jack to be met with a horrifying expression in his face.

    “So they just left you here?! Have you seen how dark it is down there?” Jack exclaimed, quickly finishing off the bandages and standing up. “None the less- by yourself.” Jack sat back down on the bad, taking Davey’s hands in his own.

    Davey sighed. “I know. But- it’s not that big of a deal!” Jack gave him a sharp look.

    “Yes, it is.” Jack leaned in closer. “It’s literally pitch black downstairs.” He said, gesturing to the fact that the sun had set a while ago.

    Davey rolled his eyes with a grin. He always found it kinda cute when Jack got a tad bit to over protective like this.

    Davey just leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

    “Fine. Stay the night here then if you’re worried so much.”

    Davey knew exactly how to get Jack to stay the night, this being one of them. Jack blushed at the offer, his grin only growing wider as he leaned his head onto Davey’s shoulder, muttering something along the lines of “Fine…” As he pretended to be mad about it.

    Deep down though, Davey knew that he was just bluffing.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: “WOULD YOU EVEN WANT ME, LOOKING LIKE A ZOMBIE?” SURGICAL SCARS / X-RAY / BEDSIDE VIGIL

    ”Are you crazy?!” Jack exclaimed, entering into Spots hospital room. “A fight? Really?”

    Spot just kept the grin on his face as Jack sat next to him on the bed.

    “You’ve gotta be the most stupid person that I’ve ever met.”

    “You love me for it though.” Spot said, keeping that smug grin on his face as he looked back over to him. Jack looked over to Spot, not being able to contain the small smile that escaped his lips.

    “Seriously though- what happened?” Jack stated as he intertwined Spots hand with his own. Spot groaned as he closed his eyes and leaned against Jacks shoulder.

    “I’m not telling youuuu…” Jack rolled his eyes as Spot let out a laugh, still a tad bit loopy from the anesthesia; having just come out of surgery.

    “What the hell could have even caused you to get into a fight?” Spot looked up at Jack from where his head still rested on top of his shoulder.

    “Fine. These two guys were being jerks, and so I beat them up. Problem solved.” He shrugged his shoulders as he closed his eyes once more. Jack nudged the smaller boy with his shoulder.

    “Oh come on- tell me the details! Did you at least win?”

    “What kind of question is that? Of course I won.” Spot said while lifting his head off of Jacks shoulder to look him in the eyes.

    “You have two broken ribs and a broken arm for fucks sake.”

    “And the other guys had four!”

    Jack paused. “You’re right, You’re right…” He muttered.

    “They already showed me X-rays- not looking to good..but I know the scars are gonna be cool as hell.” Spot leaned against Jacks shoulder once more.

    Jack always wondered what his boyfriends course of thought was, honestly. The dumbass literally got into a fight and one of his first thoughts fresh out of surgery is ‘The scars are gonna be cool as hell though!’

    Jack couldn’t blame him though. Most of the time, he looked back as his scars as something to be ashamed of- something to hide. But the way Spot looked at them? The pure amount of sheer astonishment in his eyes is something that he couldn’t even believe to describe. He loved every single one of them. He never really viewed Spot as really being the optimist type…but the way that Spot looked at scars? He saw them as accomplishments- something that showed that you survived.

    The next couple of days, Jack didn’t leave Spots side unless he absolutely had to.

    “I wanna go home…” Spot muttered one night, already drifting off to sleep as Jack ran his fingers though his hair.

    “I know- but we’ll be home soon enough. Just get some sleep.” Spot nodded and dozed off, Jack following not to long after.

    Spot was tired of being cramped up in a hospital bed. The second that he could get out of there, he signed the discharge forms quicker then he had signed anything in his life.

    Even though everything still hurt…(like, a shit ton, ouch.) At least the scars are gonna be cool.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: “I COULD ALWAYS SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU.” BACKSTABBING / CONSTELLATION / CREATIVE RESTRAINTS

    Jack had just backstabbed them. ALL of them. The union, especially. Telling them to back down, vote no, to give up on the strike.

    Racetrack was LIVID. So, this explains why he was now staying put on the penthouse, hoping that Jack would show up.

    The drawings shoved in the corner caught his eye; walking over and kneeling down to see them.

    One especially stuck out to him.

    The drawing in question had more detail then the others, and was carefully folded up, as if Jack were trying to hide it. He questioned what he should do with it- take it? Keep it hidden? Put it back? Race wasn’t sure.

    The latter rattled and shook as someone climbed up.

    “What makes you’se think you can go through my stuff?!” Jack shouted, crouching down next to Race, picking up the scattered drawings and placing them back where they belonged. Race immediately stood back up, crossing back over to the other side of the penthouse in a panic.

    “I’m sorry! But they were just shoved over there, I needed to see what they were!” Race took a pause, no response from Jack as he stood up after putting the drawings back where they had belonged.

    “I just don’t get it.” Race said softly. “If you were willing to go back to the REFUGE for fucks sake- how could to turn on us now?” Race raised his volume, now stepping closer to Jack.

    “You don’t know what the hell happened there. I did what I had to do.” Jack turned back around, not being able to look at Race. Race took another step closer.

    “Jackie.” He started. “What happened?” Races expression softened, and Jack still couldn’t bring him self to turn back around.

    “I only did what I had to do.”

    Jack finally turned himself around, meeting Races gaze. The boys blue eyes seemed to be on the verge of tears.

    “Jack. Please just tell me what they did. I just need to know that you didn’t cave for the money.” Race’s voice cracked, full of raw emotion pleading for the truth. He knew that it wasn’t the only reason Jack had betrayed them at the rally. Jack wouldn’t betray them like this- not even for Santa Fe. Not for any kind of money. Jack took another step closer.

    “I didn’t want to betray you all at the rally.” Jack said, not bringing his voice level above a whisper. “They- they said that if I didn’t do what they had told me, they…they would just throw everyone in the Refuge. I couldn’t do that to you.” Jack kept his eyes locked on the ground.

    Race let Jacks words linger in his mind. To YOU? Why had he specified him? Race brushed off those thoughts.

    “Jackie…” Race muttered, just loud enough for Jack to hear, taking his hand into his own.

    “I had to. I wasn’t given another choice. I didn’t cave for the money. It was never about the money.” Jack brought his attention back up to Race.

    Race slowly brought his hand up to Jacks chest, pushing back his shirt where the top buttons were unbuttoned, to reveal new scars that had formed across his chest. He could tell just by looking at them that some still were slightly opened.

    “Those weren’t there before.” Race stated: diverting his attention back up to Jack. Jack didn’t meet though, looking off the the side, not being able to even look at Race at the moment.

    “There’s a reason why I didn’t come back the other night.”

    Race tried to not let Jack see just how much his heart just snapped into two. “Jack. Tell me what they did.” Jack still didn’t look at Race.

    “They kept me there, you know.” He looked back over to Race, silently hoping that he would just drop the topic entirely. “The cellar of the world isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to sleep.” Jack tilted his head to the side, while bringing his other hand back over Race’s. He kept his eyes locked on the two of their hands.

    Race was horrified. He was at a loss for words, examining the boy in front of him. A new small scar formed across his face, faint but still visible. How hadn’t he noticed it before? He wasn’t sure.

    “How did I not-“ Race cut himself off, not being able to find the right words. “I just…Jack.” He looked Jack right in the eyes again. Jack met him, already knowing what was coming next.

    “I had to do it to protect you all. To protect YOU. There wasn’t anything else that I could do.”

    Race couldn’t even begin to imagine what could have happened. He didn’t want to. “I should have been there- I’m sorry that I wasn’t. I knew that something would happen- it’s all my fault-“

    Race was instantly cut off by the feeling of lips against his own, being unable to speak. He was at a loss of words anyways; he had nothing to say, with his hands starting to tangle into Jacks hair.

    Finally backing away after a moment, he had nothing left to say, already forgetting what he was going to say prior.

    He took a step back, trying to take hold of the situation and process what had just happened. He held onto the railing, looking outwards to see the streets of New York.

    Jack leaned against the railing, looking over towards Race.

    “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I should have been there. This entire thing could have been avoided if I had just BEEN THE-“ 

    “Do I need to shut you up again?” Race resisted the urge to heavily nod. “This was out of your control. You couldn’t do anything. I know that if you could have done something, you would have.” Race nodded, looking back down at his shoes before closing his eyes, and sitting himself down.

    Jack moved over to sit next to him. Race just leaned his head on top of his shoulder, already tired.

    “Just don’t scare me like that again…ok? I was freaking out, not knowing where you were.” Race weakly muttered in a sleepy daze. Jack just gave a small hum and a nod, not having the strength to do much more.

Chapter Text

DAY TWENTY-NINE: “I HOPE YOU SEE THE SUN ONE DAY IN THE DARKNESS.” FAINTING / BROKEN DISHES / LAST ONE STANDING

    Staring at the broken dishes which now lie on the ground shattered, he didn’t know what to do. The dishes weren’t even anything special- just normal plates.

    Jack hadn’t meant to drop the dishes, he swears. He really hadn’t. It was really an honest mistake.

    He and Davey were home alone, Medda being away for the night, and Jack decided to invite Davey over.

    His heart began to race, Jack starting to tremble and shake. He stared at his hands, and then back to the dishes. He couldn’t move.

    Jacks breathing picked up, starting to lose control. His breaths came in quick and short, making it hard to breath. He could feel the hot tears drip down his face, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was frozen in place.

    Jack felt sick just by looking at the dishes. The tingling feeling in his lips and fingers came back, the way it always did when stuff like this happened.

    What would Medda even think about this? Jack thought. He knew that Medda was nothing like his father; she was the exact opposite. Medda was kind, caring, and understanding. Jacks father on the other hand…? That’s a story for another day. Jack didn’t want to think about that.

    The ringing in his ears picked up, getting louder and louder, drowning out the rest of the sounds from around him. He heard a distant voice call out his name, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond; his vocal cords refusing to make a single sound. Staring to feel faint, his vision starting to spin around; feeling extremely dizzy, he closed his eyes.

    His knees buckled beneath him, dropping to the ground, his vision going faint and fading to black.

    The second he woke back up not to long later, he saw Davey sitting right next to him. Jack still felt how he had before- but it was starting to become more manageable.

    “I’m sorry- I didn’t- didn’t mean to- drop them.” Jack stuttered over his words. He didn’t know what to say, his breaths still coming in slightly fast breaths.

    Slowly looking down, he could see Davey interlacing his fingers in between his own.

    Looking back up, Davey did the same thing.

    “Hey- it’s alright. I already took care of that. It’s alright. Breath in…” He demonstrated. “And breath out…” He repeated this a few more times, waiting patiently for Jacks breathing to slow down.

    “But it’s not ok.” Jack softly muttered, breathing mostly slowed down. Tears still streamed down his face.

    “It is, I can promise you. Medda won’t care that much, if anything, she won’t care at all. Hell- she’s just gonna laugh it off.” Davey said with a small laugh and a grin along with it.

    Jack nodded, returning the laugh, taking in his surroundings. He still sat on the floor of the kitchen, on the floor.

    He looked back over to Davey, taking his hand up to his face to wipe away his tears. “I just…” Jack started, beside not exactly knowing what he was going to say. “I’m sorry. I just freaked out and-“ Davey quickly took Jacks hands in his own.

    “Jackie.” Jack stopped talking immediately, meeting Davey’s gaze. “It’s not your fault that happened. I’m right here if you need me.” Jack cracked a small smile, pulling Davey into a hug, burying his face into the crook of his neck.