#if anyone tags this with jojo shit i will attack i have a gun

[zymandia]

you were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom, blown on a steel breeze

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Losing My Mind Part 8: Kid Blink

all previous chapters are tagged under “losing my mind” pairings: crack (jackcrutchie for all you nonbelievers), ralbert, spromeo, blush, newsbians, davey/happiness friendships: crutchie and albert, specs and albert and crutchie, albert and les, specs and crutchie, kid blink and davey, jack and albert, jack and mush, les and jojo, finch and jack warnings: all previous warnings, there’s a gun in this chapter, violence, blood, self-hatred, burns, abuse, swearing, homophobia, panic attacks, choking, a bunch of other horrible shit, uh albert low-key hates himself, ableism, lots of characters have depression, and quite a few have anxiety editing: for once, yes

pov: kid blink

authors note: davey has been awake for like an hour or two, its late afternoon

I still feel like I can’t breathe.

It was days ago when it happened, but I still can’t breathe. Two guys pinned me to the wall, and I had only been expecting hits.

Hits I can handle.

And then suddenly there was a big guy in front of me, one that looked vaguely familiar, one that pointed a gun right at my face. I screamed, and then suddenly I couldn’t. Cold metal in my mouth, pressing down on my tongue, crawling its way to my throat.

“I’m gonna shoot your goddamned guts out.”

I couldn’t breathe, I was sure I was going to die right then.

I was choking and gagging, I could feel hot sticky bile rising up to fight against the gun.

“You deserve it, Louis.” The man growled, and that was when I recognized him.

I tried to force out a word, something, anything that could save me, but the pistol was still held firmly in place.

I thought I was going to die.

I was sure of it.

And then suddenly the metal receded, and the holder of the gun was pulled away roughly by a cop. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, retching on the nice plush carpet Medda always told us not to track mud on, but suddenly I was pulled away too. Another cop was holding me tightly by my upper arm, dragging me away, out of the theatre and into the cold chill of the night. I was shoved into a carriage already filled with half a dozen of my brothers. I was still coughing like mad, I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.

And him.

I never thought I’d have to see him again.

I left for good, escaped to Manhattan.

My head is spinning, and I feel nauseous again.

I need to talk to someone, I have to, but I don’t know who. I’ve told Mush my story a million times, and I think everyone knows it at least secondhand. I need someone with a cool head and who’s good at listening.

Davey.

I open my eyes and get up from my bunk. I don’t know why I laid down in the first place, I’m never able to nap in the middle of the day.

“Davey?” I ask tentatively, wandering over to his bunk. He’s just sitting on the thin mattress, staring at the wall. “Can I talk ta ya? If ya don’t mind?”

“Sure, Blink.” Davey says after a moment of pause.

Is this a good idea? Does he really want to talk? He’s probably just being nice. He only just woke up an hour or two ago, why would he want to talk to me?

I sit down next to him on the bed.

“I saw my brother.” I say.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, at the rally. He tried to shove a gun down my throat.”

“Blink...”

“I ain’t seen ‘im since who knows how long. I used ta live down in Brooklyn with my Pa an’ my two older brothers, but I left when I got this.” I gesture to my eyepatch. “Got a bottle straight ta the face. Messed up my eye real bad, but I was already across the bridge by the time I realized I was half blind. Jack found me bleedin’ in an alley an’ carried me ta Medda’s. She helped me, I got my patch, an’ then I became a newsie.”

“Wow.”

“Kinda a lot ta take in, I guess. I’se real talkative, I’se sorry.”

“I-”

“I dunno why I talk so much. It really only gets me into trouble. ‘Sides, none of the other fellas talk as much as I do. About serious stuff, I mean. Race talks a bunch, but not much ‘bout his past. I told nearly everyone ‘bout myself, I just can’t seem ta keep it in. I gotta talk, I dunno why. An’ now I jus’ keep blabbin’ on. You jus’ went through hell an’ here I am complainin’. I-”

“Blink, it’s okay.” Davey says.

“Are ya sure? ‘Cause-”

“I could use something else to focus on right now. I don’t really want to think about anything going on in my life right now.”

“Don’t we all.” I agree.

We sit there for a moment, just two friends sitting on a bench in Central Park, and it’s nice. I smile at Davey, and Davey smiles at me.

“Did I ever tell ya the story ‘bout how Race an’ Albert got themselves stuck in a tree?” I ask.

Davey beams at me, and I start talking.

alright so... this was a whirlwind of a chapter! fun fact, the real kid blink actually got a gun shoved down his throat during the strike.

this chapter was really cool for me to write because most of the newsies i write as keeping in emotions and not letting anyone know anything about their past but i thought blink would just be super talkative and it was really interesting to write in a pov of someone who copes with things by talking and sharing instead of staying silent if that makes sense

let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list!

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