#newsies drabble

[heliads]

'from you i'd buy anything ' - jack kelly x crutchie morris

Jack Kelly is thinking about leaving. Crutchie is thinking about staying. Neither of them like that very much.

a/n: who was expecting me to briefly come back from exam hiatus with a jackcrutchie drabble? not me for sure

masterlist

Imagine, for a moment, that there is a boy on a fire escape, and he is listening to his best friend talk about leaving, and that boy is you. And your best friend is your best friend. And he matters more than anything.

Imagine that you have lived your entire recorded life in one city in one country in one world selling newspapers. Your birth was announced in a newspaper, probably, a newspaper that was sold by a newsboy quite like you in many ways but vastly different in the ones that matter, and when you die, your obituary will be placed in a newspaper sold by a different newsboy who is, again, both similar and dissimilar to you, a newsboy whose birth announcement you sold in a newspaper. You will sell the paper announcing the death of the boy who sold the news of your birth, and you will sell the paper announcing the birth of the boy who will sell your death. And so the chain goes on. You will sell many papers of many boys, and you will not even know it, or maybe you will. It does not matter if you read the newspaper. It only matters that you sell it.

Imagine that you have been selling newspapers with your best friend. He is your best friend because you sell newspapers with him, or perhaps in spite of it. You love him completely; you adore him like a devotee gazing upon a god. If you were one of the well-suited men writing up the articles that get to be in print, you would put your best friend in the newspaper. Not because he was born or died, but because he lived, and he lived extraordinarily.

Imagine that your best friend is telling you how much he cannot wait to leave this place, the only place that both of you have ever known. He could do it, you know. Leave. He would be good at it like he is good at every other thing except staying. Although you are his best friend, there is nothing you could say to make him stick around, so instead of saying anything, you listen. You do not like what you are hearing, although you pretend otherwise.

Imagine that your best friend could have left town a thousand times before now, but he waited for this early morning, this stolen breath before dawn, so that he could tell you he was going and judge your face to see how you would take the news. Imagine that he has already spent hours and days and weeks coming up with every possible argument you could make to keep him in New York City, Gotham, the City That Never Sleeps, so that you would think him clever, and laugh, maybe, and want him here. Imagine that he does not know that you already think him clever. Imagine that he thinks he has to prove it somehow, as if years of friendship and ill-concealed longing were not enough to cement that belief in your mind already. It is printed on your brain with permanent ink. Like in a newspaper.

Imagine that you are on the fire escape and listening to your best friend talk, and imagining what will happen one day when you wake up and are alone. You have been lonely before, but this would be worse. He would be fine at it, you think, your best friend. He is good at making friends. Even best friends. You think about them now, someone taking your place in sunny Santa Fe, where the city is not gray and lifeless, where the children do not starve in the streets. It does not matter if your replacement is a girl or boy, if Jack Kelly loves them as much as he loves you, they are not you and therefore they are an enemy.

Imagine that your best friend does not want to swap you out for anybody. You are the crucial part in his plans, the piece that completes the puzzle, but he does not know how to say it and you do not know how to say it, either, so it goes unsaid completely. The bell rings and the two of you hurry to the place where they give you the newspapers that you will sell together, and neither of you get rid of the words hanging leaden on the tips of your tongues. Tomorrow, he will repeat this conversation, and it will go the same way. Imagine that you might know what to do tomorrow. You won’t, but there is no loss in trying. Imagine that it might work out in the end. Imagining is easier. It always is.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[i-didnt-do-1t]

David didn’t want his first visit to the lodging house to be this, anything but this would’ve been better.

He attempted to readjust the way JoJo’s arm hung across his shoulders, fingers digging in in a grip that matched the wince on his face with every limped half step.

Les forged on ahead of them in some kind of attempt to clear the way, and people moved for the dirt-stained kid with tear tracked cheeks and an arm held to his chest, spattered with blood; his own or someone else’s David wasn’t sure yet and as much as he wanted to grab Les and give him a once over for any injuries aside from the obvious, JoJo who’d gotten a club to the knee and then the head once he went down took priority.

JoJo was also spattered with blood, but it was obvious it was his own, leaking from his newly crooked nose-

He lurched to the side suddenly, and David did his best to keep him upright but he was tired and his head was spinning and something in his chest was sending shooting pains along his ribs when he breathed too deep and staying upright was hard-

“Sorry Dave.” JoJo’s voice was slurred like he was drunk and Davey realised he didn’t even know what age he was. Not old enough to get drunk, not even close, 14 at most surely, not the youngest but younger and-

“It’s fine. We’re almost back, just a couple more steps.”

“Y’seen Splasher?”

“Don’t worry about him right now. We’re almost back.”

“That copper got him real good Dave. I don’think I seen him get up.”

David swallowed bile, clung to JoJo’s waist a little harder.

He hadn’t seen Splasher get up either.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He said out loud.

[thekadster]

santa fe (prologue) (a newsies songfic)

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types)

Word Count: 1,975

Trigger Warnings: None!

❝He yelped as his foot slipped off the ladder, one of his hands luckily grabbing hold of a metal rail. Jack quickly rushed to him and pulled up his arms. “You wanna bust your other leg too?!”

“No, I wanna go down!” cried Crutchie.

“You’ll be down there soon enough! Take a moment!” replied Jack. “Drink in my “penthouse”, high above the stinkin’ streets of New York.”❞

also read it on ao3!

Crutchie didn’t know what time it was when he woke up. Was it two, three, four in the morning? He didn't know, and it didn't matter. Even if the sky was definitely still dark, he stood up from his blanket, shaking away the heavy weight of sleep. He put on his vest and his cap.

“Hey- where you goin’?” a voice softly called. “The mornin’ bell ain’t rung yet; go back to sleep.”

Crutchie looked down and found familiar eyes sleepily squinting up at him. “I wanna beat the other fellas to the street,” he replied, straightening his collar. He glanced at his crutch that stood in the corner. “I don’t want anyone should see I, uh, ain’t been walkin’ so good.”

“Oh, quit gripin’,” the voice groaned, gathering a few papers scattered around the floor. “You know how many fellas fake a limp for sympathy, right? That bum leg a’ yours is a goldmine.”

Crutchie sat down at the entrance of the fire escape, legs dangling off the edge. “Well, if someone gets the idea I can’t make it on my own, they’ll lock me up in the Refuge, for good,” he said. “Be a pal, Jack; help me down-”

He yelped as his foot slipped off the ladder, one of his hands luckily grabbing hold of a metal rail. Jack quickly rushed to him and pulled up his arms. “You wanna bust your other leg too?!”

“No, I wanna go down!” cried Crutchie.

“You’ll be down there soon enough! Take a moment!” replied Jack. “Drink in my “penthouse”, high above the stinkin’ streets of New York.”

Crutchie chuckled as he stood up. “You’re crazy.”

“What, ‘cause I like a breath a’ fresh air? ‘Cause I like seein’ the sky and the stars?”

“You’re seein’ stars, alright.”

Jack leaned on the railing and looked out into the early-morning city. There were hundreds of buildings, probably thousands, if he counted. It was a magnificent skyline he knew well, and yet it was one that he was getting rather tired of.

“Them streets down there sucked the life outta my old man,” he sighed. “Years of rotten jobs, stomped on by bosses…And when they finally broke him, they tossed him to the curb just like yesterday’s paper. But’cha know what? They ain’t doin’ that to me.”

Crutchie paused, watching his best friend’s downcast eyes. Jack never talked much about his folks, and when he did, it was only between the two of them. “And yet everyone wants to come here.”

“New York’s fine for those who got a big, strong door to lock it out,” he responded, shaking his head. “But I tell ya, Crutchie - there’s a whole other way out there, somewhere that ain’t like this.”

His eyes were distant for a brief moment. “Y’know, my old man always wanted to go to Santa Fe."

“Your dad?” asked Crutchie.

Jack nodded. “He wanted to take us there, me and my Ma; wanted us to start new out west.”

“You been there before?”

“Nah,” replied Jack. “He probably heard about it in the papes or somethin’, but he always said it was real sweet.”

He pulled out a folded postcard from his pocket. The edges were slightly worn away with time, but the picture in the middle was still clear. Crutchie leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at it, but Jack quickly pulled it away.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

Crutchie gave him a look. “What?”

Jack repeated the phrase. “Why?” Crutchie tried snatching the postcard from his hands, but Jack already shoved it into his pocket.

“Just do it!”

“Why?”

“I want you to see it,” replied Jack.

“Then gimme the postcard!” exclaimed Crutchie.

“It’s just a piece a’ paper!” he explained. “I wantcha to see it. Really see it.”

Crutchie stared at him strangely. He still didn’t understand what the other boy meant, but he figured that the conversation wasn’t going to get any further if he didn’t comply. He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Fine, fine.”

“No peekin’,” Jack added.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

When Crutchie didn’t flinch when Jack waved a hand in front of his face, he knew that his eyes were shut tight. Jack put a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay so,” he began. “Imagine a place, somewhere that ain’t like New York. Imagine a city made of clay, but there ain’t no tall buildings like what we got. A place that’s clean and green and pretty, where there’s clean air and deserts and mountains. At night, you can see the stars, but it ain’t just a handful; there’s thousands of ‘em! Thousands! You don’t even have’ta go up high; you just walk out into town, and there they are.”

A smile began to creep on Crutchie’s face. Jack carried on.

“Nobody’s out hawkin’ papes,” continued Jack. “You can see people plantin’ crops, splittin’ rails, even swappin’ tales around a fire. Oh, ‘cept for Sunday, ‘cause nobody’s up workin’.”

“Nobody?” asked Crutchie. “Nobody works on Sundays?”

“Yeah!”

“Then what do ya do if you ain’t workin’?”

Jack paused. “Nothin’,” he said.

Crutchie raised his eyebrows. “Nothin’?”

“Yeah,” replied Jack, grinning. “You just lie around all day, I guess. Do whatever ya want.”

Crutchie’s smile began to grow. “And?”

“Oh, and the folks there are real great, too,” Jack added. “As soon as ya get there, everybody’s smilin’ and happy. It don’t matter who you are or where you came from; they’re gonna take you in like you’s one of them. Soon, your friends are more like family, and they’s gonna be beggin’ you to stay.”

They took a moment, drinking in visions of a place that was so different from where they were. For them, it sounded like a dream, like something straight out of a storybook. But as Jack spoke, his wonderful words soared on the chill breeze that rushed by. It was almost like Crutchie could walk through a door in his mind and step into that sunny desert town. It was almost like he was there.

Crutchie opened his eyes, noticing Jack’s long silence. His gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond the inky horizon. Amidst the silence that stretched between them, Crutchie could feel the deep, far-off longing that filled his best friend’s eyes, the aching for something greater than the life that he led. It was something that he rarely saw from him, let alone from anyone he’d ever met, but that didn’t make it any less real.

“You got folks there?” he asked, finding his voice.

“Pssh, ain’t got no folks nowhere,” answered Jack, pulled from his trance. “You?”

Crutchie stopped, then turned to the other boy. “I don’t need folks,” he said, gently punching his shoulder. “I got friends.”

Jack felt a warm smile creep on his face and a warmer feeling form in his chest. He turned to look at Crutchie. “Hey, how’s about you come with me? No one cares about no gimp leg in Santa Fe! You just hop a palomino, you’re ridin’ in style!” he excitedly spoke.

Crutchie giggled as Jack playfully galloped like a horse. “Pfff, yeah - feature me, ridin’ in style,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, and you could toss that crutch for good!”

Crutchie’s face lit up at those words, words he never thought he’d ever hear. “Really?”

“Really, kid!” Jack exclaimed.

The grin on Jack’s face was almost enough to make Crutchie forget that he couldn’t walk on his own two feet. He exhaled, half-laughing in disbelief. “Imagine that…”

Those words, that promise - it echoed in Crutchie’s head for miles. He wasn’t sure if such a thing was possible, but the way Jack spoke about it was more than enough to prove that it was. Never had he smiled so wide when talking about anything else. Never had he talked about anything else with such joy, with such passion, with such hope.

Crutchie knew that people had dreams. Every single man, woman, and child on the street had them. But dreams don’t always come true, he realized. No matter how many pennies you’d throw into a well, no matter how many shooting stars you’d wish upon; no matter how optimistic Crutchie had always hoped to be, he knew that some things just aren’t meant to happen.

Jack looked at him, who leaned forward on the rails. There was no discernable emotion on his face and his eyes now had grown distant. “You okay, Crutch?” he whispered.

The other boy hummed in response, though it sounded like his mind was elsewhere. Jack followed his gaze, ending up at one tiny dot in the early morning sky. “You lookin’ at the stars?”

“Yeah,” mumbled Crutchie.

“Whaddaya see?”

He paused. “I’m wishin’.”

“For what?”

Crutchie took a few breaths, watching the small, flickering light. There were thousands of them out west. “Jack, if ya don’t mind me askin’,” he spoke, quickly changing the subject. “Whatcha said, is it true?”

Jack blinked. “What I said about what?”

“About Santa Fe, that it can fix my leg.”

He paused. “Well, yeah, it’s true,” he nodded. “Why?”

Crutchie looked down and shook his head. “I just wanna make sure that this is real.”

Jack silently stared at his best friend. As much as he always tried to look on the bright side of things, Crutchie wasn’t one to ignore the present. Neither of them were. In reality, they were just two kids living on the street; just specs of dust in the ever-changing world that was New York City. This town was the kind that can beat you to the ground and drain even the happiest people of their last ounce of light. There were even times when they saw it happen firsthand.

And so, Jack vowed to himself that, for as long as he could, he would never let that happen. Not to him, not to his newsies, and especially not to Crutchie.

“Hey,” he spoke, giving a gentle look. “When I leave, you’s comin’ with me, alright? You and me, we’re gonna get on that train and leave this town together. We’s a family, Crutch. We're brothers, and I ain’t never gonna letcha down. You know that, right, knucklehead?”

Crutchie chuckled as Jack ruffled his hair. "Ain't nothin' happenin' to you, as long as I'm around."

"Me too," added Crutchie. "I know I ain't much of a fighter like you or the fellas, but I's gonna watch your back as best I can."

Jack's heart softened. He smiled sincerely. "You's a strong kid, Crutch; as strong as me or anyone else. Probably more."

Crutchie grinned at his brother, his brother with whom he'd just made a lifelong promise. A new hope began gleaming in his eyes. “Who’s gonna take care of the newsies when you’re gone?”

“Probably Race,” replied Jack.

Crutchie smirked. “You’re givin’ Manhattan over to him?”

"He's my second; he’ll be fine." Jack cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. "But if he don't square up, I'm gonna ‘ave to teach him a lesson or two."

Crutchie's eyes grew wide. After a few silent seconds, Jack couldn't hold his composure any longer and the two burst out into laughter. For a moment, they didn't have to worry about the world below or whether they'd make enough money to eat. For a moment, the two of them could just be kids.

Their laughter died down and they grinned at each other. Their conversation was interrupted by a distant, resounding chime that echoed off the city's brick walls. The morning bell.

“Time for dreamin’s done, eh?” Jack happily sighed, and Crutchie nodded. He grabbed his shirt and leaned over the railing of the fire escape, yelling to his boys down below. “Hey, Specs! Racer! Henry! Albert! Elmer! Get a move on - them papes don’t sell themselves!”

[wide-eyed--wonderer]

“We are NOT dressing up my animal in a halloween costume.”

Apparently, I was not done writing baby Race. But a little short and sweet one for today. 

Two years ago, then 13-year-old Charlie Morris Kelly - Larkin met the love of his life. 

His dog, Louie. 

Technically speaking, Louie is a service dog. People generally will move out of the way for a golden retriever like Louie, but not a teenager with a leg brace and cane. 

Go figure. 

Now at 15years old, there are very few places Charlie will go without his dog. Including, taking his younger brother trick or treating. 

“We are not dressing up my dog in a Halloween costume!.” Charlie told his brother for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

“But Charlie,” Race pleaded, pulling out his puppy dog eyes, “think about how cute he’d look in this.” Race shoved his phone up to Charlie’s face, showing him the Halloween costume he’d picked out. 

And fine, Charlie will admit it, the costume is cute. 

“See, Louies gonna dress up as Stitch, and I’m gonna be Lilo, and you and Jack are gonna be Pleakley and Jumba. Your Pleakey, obviously and-”

“Race slow down! I ain’t said yes yet! And what about Jack, does he know about this? Hey? What does he think?” 

“I asked Jackie this morning when he dropped me off at school. He already said yes, as long as you were ok with it.” 

Of fucking course Jack did. Making Charlie choose whether to break Races heart or not. 

Asshole. 

Charlie sighed, knowing he’d lost the battle ever since Race approached him with the idea. He tried one more last ditch effort to get out of it. 

“Who's gonna be Nani, and where are you even gonna get these costumes from? It's way too late to order” Race rolled his eyes.

“Obviously Katherine is going to be Nani and Mama told me we could borrow costumes from the theatre.” Race smiled up at Charlie, knowing as well as he did how this was going to end.

Charlie looks over his brother once, searching for the ability to say no to him. 

It’s not something he's ever been able to do. 

“Fine -” Race throws himself in his brother's arms. 

“Thank you thank you thank you” Charlie chuckled and grabbed his brother back. 

“Easy on the leg Race. and I love ya too.” Charlie ruffled Race’s hair, “Go show me what you’ve got to make Louie's costume and we’ll work on it together hey?” Race beamed and ran off to his room. 

Charlie saying yes was always a sure thing.

Let me know what you think!!

[can-youimagine]

Coffeeshop au with Katherine Plumber? I am but a Katherine-deprived bisexual who needs some good bi content for 2019. But no worries, if you don’t want to then of course you don’t have to!

NYE Celebration

Sitting in a Dunkin’ Donuts at midnight was not exactly how you expected to spend your New Year’s Eve. You swirl your black coffee, staring into the cup angrily. Of course, he ignored you the entire party, it’s not like you expected him to notice you. You had agreed to be friends. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“You okay?” a voice asks cautiously. The owner of the voice sets a hand on your shoulder. “Rough night?”

“You could say. I’m sorry if I’m in your way,” you apologize, starting to move.

She stops you before sitting across from you. “No, no. You’re fine. I just, well, you’re pretty, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

It’s at this moment you realize how gorgeous she is. Her auburn hair falls gently over her shoulders. “Well, I don’t think anyone who spends their New Years alone is doing well.”

“You’re not wrong,” she agrees. “Anyway, I don’t want to burden you with all of that.”

You nod, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Ryan Seacrest begins his countdown on the TV in front of you.

Ten

“Um, you don’t happen to have a New Years kiss?” She asks, wringing her hands.

“Nope. You?”

Nine

“I’m working on it,” she replies with a wink.

Eight

“I don’t even know your name.”

Seven

“Kathrine.” Of course, her name was as gorgeous as her.

“Pretty name. Pretty girl.”

She rolls her eyes.

Six

“What about you, pretty girl?”

“That works for now.”

Five

She groans in frustration. “Please?”

“Kiss me first. Then, I’ll tell you.”

Four

She stands up, and for a moment you think she’s going to leave.

Three

Instead of leaving, she falls into your lap. “Not even now?” Her perfect lips form a frown.

Two

“Let’s do something crazy,” you whisper, pulling her closer to you.

One

She leans down to kiss you. Your lips move in sync as she tries to get as close to you as possible, her hands on the back of your head, tangled in your hair. As the two of you pull away, you whisper, “(Y/N).”

[bumblebee-anon]

9 on the Halloween prompts with Spot Conlon??? Please and thank you 😚💛👏

“Look, I dressed up as you.”

You turned around at the sound of Spot’s voice, immediately stifling a snicker. “Seriously?” You asked, grinning. “You dress up as me and don’t even tell me? I would’ve dressed up as you!”

Spot snapped, feigning seriousness. “Damn. Coulda matched,” he mumbled, chuckling a bit at the end. You laughed softly and he joined in, snickering.

[angrypaperboys]

MASTERLIST

*Last Updated: August 20, 2018  1:38 A.M. (EDT)

*this masterlist will be updated every time a new piece of writing comes out

Key

♤ - angst

♡ - fluff

♧ - nsfw

♢ - requested

[Newsies]

Racetrack Higgins

 all along ♤♡

puppy love ♡

seasalt & surfboards ♡

inked up ♧

the detention room ♧

Jojo De La Guerra

pillow talk ♢♡

falling out ♢♤

Albert DaSilva

forget me not ♤

caught ♧♡

Finch Cortes

the poor girl’s head is spinning ♢♡

[maddie-talks-movies]

Goodbye Until Tomorrow

[Part 1]

part 1 2

Summary: A ‘The Last Five Years’ AU. Jack is telling his story from back to front. David is telling his from front to back. They were never destined to work.

Word Count: 1563

Warnings: Heavy emotions, devastating breakup

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/32343102?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_155852967

Chapter 1

Jack is forced to open his bloodshot eyes as the light peeking through the narrow fissures in the blinds becomes too much to sleep through. His eyes, usually a deep, vibrant brown, appear dull and glossed over. They sting from the tears that had filled them the night before. His body aches and his mind feels hungover, but he hasn’t had an ounce of alcohol in a week.  

It’s been a week.

Sluggishly, Jack swings his legs, one after the other, over the side of their bed. He throws the heavy covers to the side and places his head in his hands. Jack releases a sigh he hoped would relieve tension in his rigid muscles but he has no such luck.

Jack considers looking over his shoulder, looking for the familiar face of the man he shared this bed with. Jack contemplates checking, but he knows the glance would be full of sorrow and regret that surrounds every thought of him.

For the first time in a week, Jack didn’t check.

This was no small victory, but looking at the broken boy sitting on the edge of their king bed, no one would be able to tell. Jack’s back cries out in pain as he stands from his hunched over position; a position that has come to embody and mirror how his mind feels. The need to check the other side of the bed becomes the forefront desire in his mind, but he strains to control the impulse. Jack makes his way to the door, opening it.

He pauses in the doorway.

Jack looks back over his shoulder and his devoid eyes search for the man he once loved.

He isn’t surprised with the outcome.

Although, the pang in his chest hurt like a bullet all the same.

Davey is over. Davey is gone.

Every morning Jack is met with the unsettling notion that he is completely alone. He walks the one small hall of their apartment, the floor creaking underneath his feet with every step. The hollow sounds remind him that he is the only one making them. His head becomes the loudest element of their house, reminding him that Davey’s laugh was no longer there to fill that void. Jack walks past the kitchen, part of him still hoping that Davey will be there making breakfast for the two of them. The scene of the kitchen remains untouched. There is a mess of plates and leftovers, but Jack can’t get himself to clean it up. The silence in the kitchen is deafening.

Was Davey feeling this too?

Jack’s feet drag along the hardwood floors as he finds his way to the couch. His laptop is thrown to the side, half open but the battery dead. Sheet music is strewn out across the small coffee table, but it hasn’t been touched since being set out. The sight of these two things places another weight on his shoulders. He wonders when these weights are going to overpower him for good.

It’s impossible Davey’s feeling this way, he thought.

Davey has all he ever wanted: his dream job, a place in the city, his own office, and a life without Jack dragging him down. Davey had made it clear that his life was better without Jack, even if he’d never said it out loud. Jack has always believed that actions speak louder than words.

The thought of food crosses Jack’s mind, but it’s dismissed when his stomach doesn’t cry out in hunger. Jack hasn’t eaten regularly, he hasn’t felt the need. He hasn’t felt the need to do much of anything, recently. The most important person in his life didn’t think he was enough, so maybe it’s true. If he’s not worth Davey’s time, then whose time is he worth?

Jack spends most of the time searching for answers. He replays moments from the past five years in his head, wondering what would have happened if he’d done something different, said something different. Jack can feel the what-ifs eating away at his chest. What if he’d apologized faster? What if he’d been more caring? What if he’d never met David Jacobs at all? What if the tall boy with the infectious laugh and mesmerizing hazel eyes had never walked into his life?

These are the thoughts that kill. These are the thoughts that leave him staring at nothing but a blank wall for hours.

The blue wall in front of him hasn’t always been bare; it was once filled with things Jack would describe as happy. It was once filled with memories that caused his heart to flutter and made the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile. He could still imagine the layout. The left top corner held pictures of their dating years. Towards the right side hung all of their achievements, arranged to show what was most important them. And in the middle, the area that was Jack’s favorite, held a collage of their wedding photos. Their wedding was the best day of Jack’s life, but pictures that were once bright, vibrant, and full of joyous emotions are replaced with pictures that appear so dull, they are almost black and white.

Jack couldn’t handle the memories being a constant reminder of all he’s lost. He took them down after the second night he spent alone.

Why did Davey get to decide this was over?

Jack didn’t get a say, yet he was the one left with the scars that he did nothing to earn. Every line of the note Davey left him lashed a new wound into Jack’s back. Every promise Davey had made him left fatal marks on his heart.

What about Davey?

Did he have these similar scars?

Jack picks up the neatly folded piece of paper that stood out from the rest chaotic sheet music. He’d wanted to crumple it up and burn it, but a roadblock stood in his way. This was Jack’s last piece of David. This was Jack’s last sliver of sanity.

He unfolds it, taking in the calculated calligraphy that Davey had left him. Everything about the note is perfect; from the way Jack’s name was written on the top, to the way Davey signed it on the bottom. It was poetic, but devastating. The words enchanted Jack, but broke him at the same time.

Davey has always had a way with words.

What Jack would give for one more day, one more chance to prove to Davey that this could work. He wanted one more opportunity to show Davey that he was throwing away the best thing that had ever happened in their lives.

But Jack knew this was just wishful thinking.

Jack’s eyes wandered around the room, catching sight of the door that separated him from Davey’s office.

Davey had wanted his own office more than anything. When they moved in they made sure there was a room for one. It got to a point Jack wouldn’t even look at a place if there wasn’t an office, Jack wanted to make sure that Davey was happy.

Jack hasn’t entered that room since he left.

As if a ghost, Jack raises himself to his feet and slowly drags himself to the doorway.

It is time to face this.

Upon opening the door, everything appears untouched. Jack hadn’t spent much time in this room: it is Davey’s area and he respects that. The drawers to his desk are shut and the bookshelves that lined either side of the small room are neat and organized. A thin sheet of dust coats everything in the room, cobwebs beginning to form in the crevices of the office. The sun breaks through the windows illuminating the desk Jack had seen Davey work at plenty of times.

The light glimmers off an object on the desk.

Picking up the quarter-sized item, tears pull at the corners of his eyes.

Jack turns the ring over in his hands a few times, not being able to wrap his hand around the idea of what he’s holding.

A tear slips down his cheek as he inspects the wedding band. It's smooth between his fingers. Jack notices the warn-down interior; almost as if Davey had been removing it from his finger often. The thought causes Jack’s throat to drop into his stomach. He doesn’t want to accept it.

Davey left him with nothing, nothing but a promise of forever that he would never be able to keep.

Most of Jack’s time is spent sitting at the piano in the window. He tries to play as he used to, but the notes don’t seem to flow when he’s not there. Staring out the window, he admires the world around him. He admires that despite the shit that goes on every day, the Earth continues to spin.

It’s a selfish thought, but he gets upset when people walk past and laugh. No, they’re not laughing at him, but he doesn’t understand how people can be happy when he’s so sad. It’s not like they know what happened, but it still feels cruel.

Time passes slower when David isn’t around; minutes feel like hours and hours feel like days. The lights in the apartment are dimmer and every sound echoes as if the emptiness of the space is mocking him.

Davey has moved on, Jack is stuck.

Davey has moved on.

Jack is still hurting.

tag list: @the-world-is-ya-erster

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this story or for all my works in general. My inbox is always open!

[brooklyn-anon]

Hey, can I request something for Davey secretely writing poetry for the reader that he has a crush on?

(I’m so sorry this took me so long to get to! Work kicked my butt the last week but I am here! Also, the poems are not mine!!! I have no idea who the one jack talks about is by, but Tyler Khott Gregson is the author of the bit on the door!)

——————————————————————————————————-

“What are you working on Dave?” Jack asked from across the room. 

“Um….. English.” He shifted slightly to ensure his friend wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing. His eyes moved back down to the screen of his laptop so he could refocus. 

In reality, he wasn’t doing his English work.  He had a huge crush on someone in his math class, and had taken to the embarrassing habit of poetry. It was the only way he could really accurately explain how he felt about them. They were perfect in every way. Smart, gorgeous, funny, loving, positive, kind……. He was convinced he was actually in love with them. But he would never admit to it. Never in a million years. He would no doubt make a fool of himself. 

“Hey Dave, don’t you have class in like 15 minutes?” Looking at the clock, Davey gasped and slammed his laptop shut. He grabbed his shoes and backpack and ran out of the room with barely a goodbye. Jack smirked and sat down in front of his friend’s computer. Alright….. Now what was the password……….

Nearly two hours later, Dave walked into his room to see a smirking Jack sitting in the floor doing a puzzle. Odd………

“Hey there Jacobs. Did you know that I love you just the way you are?” His friend just scoffed and rolled his eyes. He was just being a punk. “But, you don’t see you like I do.” This sentence made Davey freeze. “You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect.” He slowly turned around to look at his friend on the ground. “Trust me, perfect should try to be you.” Jack winked, and Davey lost it. He launched himself at his friend with the intention of killing him. Jack scrambled away quickly to try and save his own skin. 

“How did you find out about those???” 

“More importantly, who are they about?”

It took a moment of calming down, but eventually Davey opened up about his crush. He poured out his feelings and everything he had been thinking about you since the moment he met you. And……. well it was a lot. Jack sat and listened like a child during story time. His poor best friend was so hopeless. He was hopelessly in love with his classmate and had no idea what to do about it. Good thing he had taken mattered into his 

“So, like, I just really want to, wait hold on.” Dave nearly dropped his phone when he saw that he had a text from you. That same smirk Jack had been wearing before was back .Uh oh……. He opened the text and was staring at a picture of one of his poems printed out and taped to your dorm room door. 

You are the poem I never knew how to write and this life is the story I have always wanted to tell. -D.J.

Is this your way of asking me out? - Received at 4:36pm

Um, yes? - Sent at 4:40pm

Pick me up at 7 ;) - Received at 4:41pm

Okay….. So maybe Jack wasn’t all that bad……….

[wide-eyed--wonderer]

“Can I borrow your hoodie?”

I had a lot of fun with this one, mainly because I got to write the group dynamic again, and that's just chaos.

“Can I borrow your hoodie?” Jack looked up at his wife’s request and raised an eyebrow at her

“Sure, but why?” Katherine shrugged.

“I need something to cover my belly and -” she pulled the hoodie over her head, “- all your clothes are huge on me. It was true, even with Kath’s slightly swollen belly, the hoodie still swamped her. It was the perfect disguise.

Because Jack had been putting off telling the boys that he was going to be a dad. 

Katherine had been nagging Jack for weeks now, but Jack was so worried about how the boys were going to take it that he hadn’t said anything. 

“Are you going to tell them tonight?” Jack shrugged in response. “Baby, I know you’re nervous, but the boys just want you to be happy. They’ll probably be angrier that you kept it a secret then at the actual news itself. In fact, I can’t imagine a scenario where the boys are angry at you for this.”

“You think so?” Jack whispered

“I know so.” Katherine leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

20 minutes later, Jack and Katherine arrived at Spot and Race’s house. 

“JACKIE!” Race threw open the door and launched himself at Jack. 

“Hey Kath,” Spot nodded from inside. “Welcome to our new place. Wanna come in while Race and Jack finish hugging on our porch?” Katherine laughed.

“Hey Spot, these two might be awhile, so I’ll take you up on that offer.” Katherine walked in and looked around the boy's new place. “Wow Spot, this looks amazing.”

“Thanks, Kath. Jackie- boy’s been over a million times to help set up furniture and stuff, and he says it's great. But outta all of us, your is the only opinion that has any worth. And not cause you're a girl Just because you're the only one of us with any design sense.” 

“Thanks for the compliment Spot. But truly, you did a wonderful job.” Katherine heard Race and Jack come in behind them. “House’s beautiful Race.” 

Race smiled sheepishly and hugged Kath from behind. 

“Sorry for ignoring you, Kitty. And thanks. We did a pretty good job if I do say so myself.” Spot shook his head fondly at his fiance's antics and looked over at Kath. 

“You’d think that it’d been longer than a week since the two of them saw each other.” 

“Well sorry Spot,” Jack came over and slung his arm around Race’s shoulder, “but you're going to have to get used to this mug, don’t plan on not seeing Race here for that long again if I can help it.”

The four of them laughed and got settled on the couch as the rest of the gang poured in. 

Last to arrive were Charlie and Albert, who both got the same reception from Race as Jack did. After their long and drawn out hellos to Race alone, the pair made their way to the living room, where everyone else was sitting around eating and laughing. 

Jack was about to get up from Kath's side to give Charlie a hug when Albert called out. 

“GUYS.” all the heads in the room turned to look at the pair. The two of them shared a glance before turning back to the group. “Don’t kill us, but uh Charlie and I got married. Last week.”

The room was silent while all the gang processed the information. The silence, of course, was broken by Race who screamed and ran up to wrap both the boys up in a hug. 

Race’s reaction seemed to snap the rest of the group out of their trace, who all started shouting at once. 

“HEY!” Charlie shouted over the noise. “One at a time please.”

Jojo piped up first. “When did you even get engaged.” 

“We didn’t” Albert responded, “we were watching Kissing Booth on Netflix and kinda just decided”

“You decided while watching Kissing booth” Romeo interrupted, “that's not even a real rom-com! Why not The Proposal, or When Harry Met Sally or -”

“Pipe down Romeo,” Buttons called, “however they decided to do it isn’t important. And they coulda chosen a better movie but,” Button shrugs, “whatever. Congrats guys.”

“Thanks, Buttons.” Charlie looked over at specs who’d raised his hand. “Yes, Specs?”

“When did this actually happen?” 

“23rd.” Albert supplied. 

“Dude, that was over two weeks ago,” Finch called. “You could've said something before today.”

“And ruin this reaction?” Albert smirked, “Hell no.”

“Who’d you guys use for witnesses?” Davey called from the couch.

“I used mama and Albert called Denton,” Charlie responded and shifted his gaze to Jack. “Jackie, you ok?”

Jack was still sitting still, staring at his brother. 

“Married? You got married? Why didn’t you tell us??” Jack stood up and started pacing, “That - that’s be like me not telling you guys Kath was pregnant until we come home from the hospital!” 

“Something you need to tell us, Jackie - boy?” Spot asked. 

Jack froze as he realised what he said. He whipped his head to Kath who was trying to suppress a giggle. 

“So uh -,” Jack reached up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Kath’s pregnant?”

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!!

[lost-in-the-in-between]

Oh my god can I request newsies fanfiction??? Bc if so then (I think it was 29?) "Where's your shirt" for like idk whatever you want Jack/Davey I guess

So this was my first time writing Javid, so I hope it’s okay!

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for Davey to pop by Jack’s apartment at random hours, especially since they had begun getting closer this semester. Davey still lived with his parents in an attempt to save money, and sometimes he needed to get away from his parents and siblings, as much as he loved them. Jack only had one roommate, Crutchie, who was usually busy with the dozens of school activities he was a part of, so they tended to hang out at the quiet, though messy, apartment.

On this particularly morning, Davey was stopping by because he was sure he had forgotten his calculus textbook there the night before when they had attempted to study together. Due to having different majors, they didn’t actually share any classes, and soon all endeavors into the world of higher education were abandoned in favor of watching a movie on Netflix and stuffing their faces with microwaved popcorn. Davey, as much as he hated to admit it, could be a pushover when it came to Jack.

Knocking on the door, Davey checked the older, slightly rusty watch on his wrist. It had been a gift from his father before he had been laid off, so despite being worn out and in a poor condition, Davey couldn’t bring himself to part with it in favor of a nicer one.

9:15

Neither of them had a class until 10, but Davey hated being late. Just as he had decided to knock a second time, the door in front of him swung open to reveal Jack Kelly.

It revealed Jack Kelly without a shirt.

Davey felt his face heat up, his throat suddenly very dry. He was sure his eyes had widened to twice their usual size because he could see Jack’s smug grin at his response.

“Dave! What’s up?” David coughed. Wow, was it hot outside? It was November, why was it this hot?

“I‐ uh, I forgot something here. Last night. My shirt － MY TEXTBOOK. I forgot my textbook. You forgot your shirt. Where is your shirt?”

Jack was laughing now － a full laugh, with his hands clutching his stomach and his upper half doubled over. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to describe Davey; he knew he would be an unpleasant shade of scarlet right about now.

“I’m just gonna－” Trying to escape with some of his dignity left, Davey turned to run. A strong, firm hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Relax, Dave,” Jack said, much closer than Davey would have liked for him to be. Not because he didn’t want to be close to Jack all the time, but because he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from kissing Jack if he didn’t get away soon. “Come on. Come in and look for your textbook.”

Davey swallowed and nodded, letting Jack drag him inside. The living room was just as messy as it had been the night before, with papers strewn across it and pillows all over the place. Davey began his search, turning over cushions and blankets until he finally found his math textbook. Turning around, he saw that Jack was still shirtless and was now leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“So, you found it,” Jack said, pushing off the wall and walking closer. Nodding, Davey attempted to look anywhere but Jack. Why couldn’t the ground just swallow him right about now?

“You wanna stay for breakfast?”

He shook his head no. The sooner Davey got out, the sooner he could get away from his best friend and pretend that he wasn’t completely in love with Jack. The other boy frowned at his response.

“Come on, just a bagel for the road or something,” Jack was getting closer again, and Davey knew his face would be reddening. He stood his ground, though. If Jack wanted to make him uncomfortable for some reason, then he would have to try a little harder.

“Or we could skip classes for the day?”

The snapped Davey out of it. He was a good kid; he had never skipped a class willingly. Davey loved school, and while he loved Jack, school was objectively more important most of the time. Shaking his head again, Davey took a step back.

“No, we need to go to class. Don’t you have a test today?”

Jack pouted.

“I didn’t exactly study…if we ditched, I could make it up on Wednesday,” He pointed out, his eyes hopeful. Shaking his head, David rolled his eyes.

“No, come on. Go put on a shirt. We have to leave soon.”

“Or I could not put on a shirt and we could still be good students and study another subject. I’m sure you’re good at anatomy.”

Sputtering, Davey attempted to even think of an answer. His brain was short circuiting a bit at Jack’s forwardness. He had flirted with Davey before, but it always seemed harmless. Now, Jack was standing in the middle of his own apartment, shirtless, talking about anatomy. Davey didn’t think this seemed so innocent.

“Are you－ are you flirting with me?”

Jack laughed again, though this sounded more like a dry chuckle.

“I have been for months, but thanks for noticing.” Davey’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open. “I get it － you’re not into me. It’s cool.”

Before he could stop himself, Davey was pulling Jack in closer. He pressed his lips against Jack’s, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy’s neck until he realized that Jack was still very much shirtless. He pulled away to see Jack frowning again.

“Why’d you stop?”

“You need to go put a shirt on and we need to go to class,” Davey replied, pushing Jack lightly in the direction of his room. Sighing, Jack turned and entered his room, emerging a few minutes later in a t-shirt.

“You’re gonna come over and study tonight, right?” asked Jack, picking up his backpack and grinning cheekily. Rolling his eyes fondly, Davey smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, fine. But we’re really studying tonight!”

Stepping closer, Jack smirked up at Davey. He stood up on his tiptoes and pecked Davey on the lips quickly, grabbing his hand.

“Fine, but I’m taking you out tomorrow on a real date.”

Davey could only grin as he walked hand in hand with Jack out of his apartment and towards campus. Maybe he should ‘forget’ his textbook more often.

[bumblebee-anon]

🌙 Spot x reader, please? -🥞

Spot was very slow to trust you at first. I mean, who would trust a kid who insists he can only meet you at night? Fortunately, you accepted this and started hanging out with him on a nightly basis. You wondered if he really trusted you for a long while, but once he revealed why he was only out at night, you were positive he trusted you.

[wordshakerofgallifrey]

for @mirkwoodsguardian who asked for “I was not trained for this!” with Spot and Race babysitting Pete!!

Spot Conlon had taken down many a challenge in his life.

A dad who drank too much after Mom died, and got a little punchy when he did, guys who thought he was an easy target because he was short, and would give in, even a fairly manipulative ex of almost five years, and he’d gotten through it all.

But this little shit of a Kelly was going to be the end of him

“I was not trained for this!” Spot groaned as Pete rounded the couch again. How could something that couldn’t even walk move so fast?

Kathy’d warned them that their eight month old was crawling like crazy, but she didn’t warn them their kid knew how to move.

Jack and Katherine hadn’t even been gone an hour and Pete had managed to lap around the living room a dozen times, refusing to sit still for either of his uncles.

Race snorted. “What trainin’ d’ya have, Spotty? Ya were a barista for four years, how’s that s’posed ta translate to babysittin’?”

Grasping the edge of the coffee table, Pete pulled himself up so he was standing, making noises so his uncles wouldn’t forget he was there. “Aaah-aah-aaah!” he babbled, before falling back on his diapered butt.

“Is that right, Petey?” Race asked, taking a careful step around the couch. “Ya think Uncle Spotty’s full of it?”

Pete watched Race, brown eyes wide and thumb in his mouth, but didn’t move.

“Uncle Racer’s gonna get it if he don't stop talkin’ ‘bout me like the kid can understand ‘im,” Spot muttered.

“Pete knows what ‘m talkin’ ‘bout, don’t’cha---” Race took one step too close and Pete shrieked suddenly, crawling away as fast as he could. “Spot, get ‘im!”

***

Another half hour had gone by, and Pete finally wore himself out. Spot had try to lay him down on his blanket, but he started fussing every time, so he stretched out on the couch with the kid on his chest.

Race sat on the floor in front of the couch, tilting his head back to see them. “Ain’t even a year old, an’ he’s great at causin’ trouble---def’nitely a Kelly.”

“Nah,” Spot said, looking down at the boy. “Jackie was a pretty mellow kid, this one’s a Plumber f’r sure.”

Race laughed softly, so he wouldn’t wake up Pete. “Well, for someone who don’t want kids, ya do a pretty good job’a chasin’ one down.”

Spot was quiet a moment. “Well I wouldn’t say I don’t want kids,” he said nonchalantly, and Race sat up.

“Really?” Race didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but his husband had never shown any sign of ever wanting a kid, and he’d known him seven years, six of which they’d been together.

Spot’s tone suddenly turned defensive. “Ain’t that shockin’, is it? Used have siblin’s an’ shit, an’ we didn’t do too bad with Pete.” 

“I just... neva’ woulda pegged ya f’r a kids man.”

Spot ran a hand through his hair. “Well def’nitely not now, not wit’ you bein’ on the road an’ me still in law school, but... One of these days, yeah. I’d have a kid wit’cha Tony.”

Pete yawned, curling into Spot’s chest, and Race smiled. “Well, I gotta say, ya look good wit’ a baby on ya chest.”

Spot nudged the back of his head with his knee. “I look good always, Higgins.”

“Can’t argue wit’ that.”

[mrsjackkelly-blog]

Newsies Drabble: Ladykisses (For Science)

Many thanks to Abby for lending me Luna for this <3

Honestly, Ladykisses, For Science! That's really it.

It started with a discussion about kisses. The nature of kisses. Which kiss was the best kind of kiss. Goldie was of the opinion that chaste kisses were best. Soft, innocent kisses. Kind kisses, lips just caressing, breath stolen, the promise of more, at some later point, but reveling in the slight touch for as long as possible. Luna, on the other hand, argued that passionate kisses were the best. Wild, and a little rough. The kind of kiss that left knees weak, that induced light-headedness. Pulse racing, the kind of kisses to get lost in. The bottle of alcohol being passed back and forth fueled the debate, late into the evening, each girl eventually admitting that their experience with their kiss of choice was a bit limited. But when Luna finally, belligerently, demanded that Goldie prove that her ideal kiss was somehow the best, Goldie didn't really think twice about it. She could smell the whiskey on Luna's lips, she could almost taste it. But rather than kiss the other girl, she gently brushed her nose against Luna's, lips hovering, breath caressing, taking her time, stealing the other girl's breath before she even kissed her. Only when she heard a small gasping whimper escape Luna's lips did she brush her own against the brunette's. The kiss was every bit as soft and sweet as she'd argued for, almost chaste, the sort of kiss she had always wished someone would give her. She lingered, just barely touching, her fingers brushing against Luna's neck, curling slightly in her hair, twisting it around. When they finally broke apart, the brunette was flushed, her eyes just slightly glazed, clearly in a slight daze, but crookedly smiling. Her voice was soft as she conceded that the kiss was good, but she really ought to have a proper comparison to work with. Goldie laughed, shaking her head, but it was her turn to be caught off guard, as Luna's fingers gripped at her shirt-front, pulling her in, her kiss far more firm, right from the start. She was almost aggressive, startling Goldie a bit, but making her heart skip, and she responded by kissing back just as firmly, whimpering against the other girl's lips. She pulled away again, to catch her breath, before pressing in, initiating the kiss herself this time, and while Luna's fingers stayed tugging at her blouse, hers curled behind Luna's neck, pulling her closer, completely lost in the moment, trying to pull herself together. When they did finally manage to break their lips apart again,  both in desperate need of air, Goldie didn't let Luna get very far away, commenting in between peppering kisses, that while the evidence was certainly worthy, two types of kisses were not anywhere near enough data, and they needed all kinds of additional examples, if they wanted a fair assessment. Luna, while ginning against the blonde's lips, agreed.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Hi hi I see you've reblogged that prompt sheet. How's about “You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? YOU HEATHEN.” (I can't remember the number sorry) for something with Mike and Ike? ♡ hope you're having a lovely day ♡

Thank you @cutesiewooren for sending this in! I wrote this quickly so I hope you enjoy it!!!

“Here, I think this is yours.” Mike nudged the cup towards Ike as he took a sip of his own.

Ike took a sip of the hot cocoa, raising an eyebrow in Mike’s direction. “How did you know it wasn’t yours?”

“It was sweeter than normal. Figured you put marshmallows in yours.” He shrugged, taking another sip, enjoying the rich chocolate flavor and humming in contentment.

“Wait, what?” Ike slammed a hand down on the countertop, looking at his brother with a shocked look on his face. “You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? YOU HEATHEN!”

Mike smirked. “A proud heathen at that. Marshmallows make it too sweet. Give me some peppermint and I’m good.”

“Heathen will be your new nickname.” Ike nodded to himself, taking a long sip from his cup, sighing loudly. “All these years and I’ve never known you didn’t like marshmallows. Who hurt you as a child?”

Shifting his weight so that his hands were flat against the countertop, Mike gave his brother a long glance. “You did. Now can we move on from this.”

“What did I do to you as a child?” Ike’s eyes widened as he quickly thought back to their childhood and anything that could’ve hurt his brother’s likeness of marshmallows.

Snorting, Mike shook his head. “If you can’t come up with why I don’t like those sweet things, then I can’t help you.”

“Mike.” Whining, Ike gave his brother a look. “Just tell me.”

“Two words - chubby bunny.” Mike frowned as Ike’s eyes went wide, flashing back to their tenth birthday party.

Minute to Win It games were all the rage at birthday parties and Mike and Ike’s tenth birthday party was no different. The ten year olds had to shove as many marshmallows in their mouths in a minute and whoever won, got a prize. “Didn’t you win that though?”

Nodding slowly, Mike smirked. “I did but after that, I couldn’t think about marshmallows again, let alone eat them.”

“Alright, I guess I can forgive you, Heathen.” Ike reached over and ruffled up his hair. “Should we go see what Race and Spot are up to?”

Mike nodded, finishing off his hot cocoa, throwing it in the trash before heading to the front door. “Yes! Race said he was going to try to get Spot to do something stupid today.”

Thank you for sending in the ask! I haven't written much of Mike and Ike but I found they banter like most brothers! Feedback would be wonderful! Thanks for reading!

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Waiting Game

Many, many thanks to @thebarkeepwrites for being my personal cheerleader these last few weeks. You have been absolutely amazing as I've been in my slump. I'm dedicating this to you for being amazing!

Warning: hospitals, car wreck, and car accident

Seven days. It had been seven days since he heard his voice. Seven days of silence, not that it wasn't out of the ordinary. But he was used to him pipping up every now and then to add a sarcastic comment to whatever Race was talking about.

Throwing his head back against the chair, he sighed loudly, just wanting Spot to wake up, or at least move.

This whole thing started with a trip to the grocery store. They were cooking and there were two ingredients that they thought they had but didn’t. Spot offered to run to the store to grab them. He got to the store, safe and sound. However, as he left the store that’s when the nightmare started.

From what Race gathered from the police, Spot was pulling out of the parking lot when he was t-boned, directly impacting his side of the car. He was rushed to the hospital, where he had been unconscious for the last seven days, Race by his side the entire time.

A knock on the door drew his attention from Spot. Sighing, he lifted his head from the bed, eyes widening when he saw who was standing there. “Hey.”

In any other circumstance, Race would have laughed loudly at how awkward Jack Kelly looked standing in the middle of the door. Katherine stood behind her husband, nudging him into the doorway, before she breezed past him, wrapping Race into a hug. “How is he?”

“The doctors are hopeful that he will wake up soon. It’s just a waiting game for him to open up his eyes.” Race stepped back from the hug as he was pulled into a hug by Jack. “You guys didn’t have to come up here.”

Jack patted his back a couple of times. “Wild horses wouldn’t keep us away. How are you holding up?”

“Uhhh . . .” Race reached up and scratched the back of his neck, sighing. “I just want him to wake up. It’s been too quiet with him just laying there.”

Kat chuckled. “Spot wasn’t the most talkative person to begin with. He’s always quiet unless you get him going with whatever nonsense.”

“It's just too quiet in this room.” Race chuckled, dryly.

Katherine skirted around them to take a seat at the bedside, reaching over and picking up Spot’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She talked quietly to him as Jack gave Race a hard look. “Have you left this place at all?”

Shaking his head, he sat in a chair, giving Jack a look. “If it was Kat in that bed, would you leave?”

“Nah, you’d be dragging me from this room, much like I’m about to do.” Jack gave his best friend a look. “Come on, let’s go to the cafe.”

Race hesitated, looking at Spot and Katherine. “I, ugh . . .”

“Kat will be here the entire time. She’s not going to leave his side until we’re back.” Jack promised, clasping a hand on Race’s shoulder, gently leading him from the room.

The two walked silently down the hallway, the only sound they heard was the squeaking of their shoes on the linoleum floor. The two joined others in the elevator, taking them to the main floor. Jack guided Race along until they found the cafeteria. Jack pushed Race into a chair, leaving him to grab some food for him to eat.

Soon, Jack returned with a tray full of Race’s favorites. “Half of that needs to be finished before we go back upstairs.”

Without another word, Race started tucking into the food. Jack kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation. Pushing the tray away, Race sat back in the chair, taking a long sip of Coke, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “Is that okay, mom?”

“Yeah that’s okay. Do you want me to pack some of this up for you later?” Jack asked, quietly.

Shaking his head, Race stumbled to his feet. “Can we go back upstairs?”

Nodding, Jack got to his feet, grabbing the tray as the two headed out of the cafe. Jack threw the food away before following Race back upstairs. Once back in the room, he threw himself into the chair opposite of Katherine with a sigh. Leaning forward, he laced his hands with Spot’s, giving both Katherine and Jack a look. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’m sure Spot will share his appreciation when he wakes up, whenever that may be.”

“Anything for you two.” Katherine smiled at him from the other side of the bed. “Do you need anything?”

Shaking his head, he sighed. “Just for him to wake up.”

Without another word, Katherine got up from her spot, walked around the bed, leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Please let us know if you need anything and when he wakes up.”

“Absolutely.” Race smiled. “Thank you for sitting with him while I got something to eat.”

She squeezed his shoulder before leaving the room with Jack in tow. Leaning forward, he placed his head on the bed as he gently squeezed Spot’s hand. “You’ve got to let me know that you’re still here. I miss you Spottie.”

Sighing loudly, Race’s hand smacked the bed with a groan. He didn’t want to think of a life without Spot by his side. They had been married for only three months, just moved into their first home together, and just started living their life together. Though they had been together for over four years, Race felt like everything was finally falling into place for them.

“We talked about starting our lives, Spottie. Kids, vacations, memories being made.” Race whispered. “You can’t leave me, Sean. It’s too damn soon. I’m supposed to have 60 plus more years with you, not just the four we’ve had already.”

Race’s eyes shifted to his still husband. Giving his fingers a squeeze, he brought them to his lips and kissed them. “I love you, Spottie. Dammit, you can’t leave me.”

Laying his head on the bed, he was soothed by the constant beeping of the heart monitor, letting it lure him to sleep.

Hours later

A moan dragged him from the deep sleep he was in. He blinked, trying to remember where he was. Blinking his eyes slowly, he recognized the hospital room he had spent the last seven days in. Sitting up, he stretched his arms and back before looking up at the bed. A small smile crossed his face. “Welcome back.”

“I’m not dead.” came the croaked voice as a bright smile crossed Race’s face.

Squeezing Spot’s hand, Race was on his feet, leaning over and pulling Spot into a long kiss. Spot moaned at the kiss but pulled back seconds later. “Racer, you’re going to kill me.”

“Not for a long, long time.” Race promised, leaning over and gently kissing him. “You scared me.”

Spot sighed, giving him a look as he reached for the controller to adjust his bed. “Can you call the nurse?”

Race nodded, pushing the button, looking Spot over. “Do you remember anything that happened?”

Spot was quiet as he played with the ring on Race’s hand. “I remember leaving the store, the bag of groceries in the backseat of the car. Anything else is all a blurry mess.”

Race was unable to say anything as a nurse came into the room to check Spot over. Several questions were asked, all of which Spot could answer. She adjusted his meds before promising that the doctor would be shortly, leaving the room a few seconds later.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Spot asked as the door shut behind the nurse. “Did I cause the accident?”

Race immediately shook his head. “No, no Spot. You didn’t cause an accident. Someone ran into your car. You’ve been in the hospital for the last seven days.”

“I didn’t cause the accident?” Spot’s voice was small, fear creeping into his voice.

Race looked at Spot, locking eyes with him. “Sean Patrick Conlon, I promise you that you didn’t cause this accident. You were the victim in this.”

“Ok. So what are the damages?” Spot looked at the cast on his foot and winced at the pain in his chest.

Race leaned over and kissed him. “Broken foot, couple of bruised ribs, and a concussion. From what I’ve heard, you’ll be here a few more days then released.”

“I hurt.” Spot pouted, giving Race a look.

Race bit his lip. “I’m sorry about that. Do you want me to get the nurse to increase your meds?”

“No, but will you cuddle with me?” Spot put on the puppy dog eyes as he attempted to scoot over on the bed.

Race gently got on the bed, as Spot laid his head on Race’s chest. Instinctively, Race’s hand started running through Spot’s hair as they both relaxed. Race thanking whoever heard his prayers that Spot was going to be okay. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Race sighed, relaxed as he felt Spot’s breath on his chest as he drifted off to sleep.

Thank you for reading. Please let me know your thoughts about this!