#terrifying and beautiful are the best words used to describe my writing im overwhelmed

[dont-sneeze]

I don’t know what this is but I hope you enjoy?

The year was 1899. It was two a.m. in Manhattan, New York. Because it was night and every sane person was sleeping, there wasn’t much noise compared to the daytime. It was quiet now, nice for thinking and reflecting. During the daytime, one could see and hear the cry of newsboys all over the city, trying to make their living on half a penny a paper-

“Yeah, yeah they all know the plot, C.” Jack commented leaning against the railing of his rooftop penthouse. “That’s why they’re reading this in the first place. You can just go on with the Angst so we can get it over with.”

“Jack.” Crutchie limped up next to him. “Be nice. She’s trying out a new style of writing. You should be honored she even writes about us. After all, we are just a bunch of nobody’s to the rest of the world.”

“Yeah, well I don’t appreciate all she’s put us through. It hurts. Over and over and over.”

“But it always turns out happy in the end. That’s why we’re still here.” Crutchie reached over and took Jack’s hand.

Jack tried to keep the scowl on his face, but it didn’t stay for long once he looked at Crutchies hopeful expression. “Okay, okay fine.” Crutchie beamed at Jack as he rolled his eyes. “Go on with your story, C. Just try not to break us too much. Can you at least tell us why we’re still awake so late at night?”

The stars seemed to sparkle with amusement. Jack didn’t even notice that Crutchie had sat back down over the ledge, his legs dangling off while looking into the empty streets below. Jack looked down at the brown haired boy, wondering-

“Woah, hang on. Since when was Crutchies hair brown?” Jack interrupted. “It’s blond. And when the sun shines on it, it’s like the sun is kissing it. It’s beautiful. Not brown. That’s my hair, dark and dirty and gross. Crutchie has the best hair in the world.” Jack placed his hand on Crutchies shoulder, causing Crutchie to look over at him. “Crutchie is the best in the world.” He whispered, looking into Crutchies eyes deeply.

“Jack, you’re getting sappy.” Crutchie looked up. “I think she’s just basing me off Andy Richardson in this story.”

“And who is she basing me off of? I got four options who all have the same hair color. There’s no other way to describe me.” He complained, making Crutchie chuckle.

“Just let her tell the story. Maybe this one will be happy?”

“You gazing out into the night sky at two in the morning can’t be happy.”

“Shush! Let her write it!”

Jack sighed heavily, looking down at his brother. “Okay, but you feeling okay? You haven’t slept in a few days.”

“I’m fine, Jack.” Crutchie pulled his legs up to his chest. “Really. I just can’t sleep.”

“I know. But you need sleep.” Jack sat down next to Crutchie.

“I’m so tired, Jack. But every time I close my eyes, I see that awful place and suddenly I’m wide awake again because I can’t go back there.”

“You won’t, I promise you won’t ever go back there. I know how awful it is, and I won’t let anything like that happen to you again. Never. I refuse to let it happen. Hear me?”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Well, not if C keeps writing these stories. Then no. I can’t promise it. I’d like to promise it; but that’s not possible, knowing the way she writes.”

“Jack, why are you focusing on the negative here?” Crutchie tried to reach out and take his hand.

Jack shook his head, and pulled his hand away, standing up. “Because that’s what 90% of her stories are! For some reason she rips us apart-”

“But only to bring us together again, closer than before.”

“But at what price, Crutch? I’m terrified that one of these days she’s gonna write something that will keep us apart from each other, and I can’t take that right now. Crutch, I just… I can’t bear the through of loosing you, not again!”

“You won’t loose me, Jack.”

“But I already did once. When you died… I fell apart. I couldn’t sleep or eat or breathe… and I can’t take that again.”

“She’s not gonna make me die again, Jack. That was a one time thing when she needed to put her emotions on you.”

“Oh yeah, because I deserve all this?”

“Jack, stop. She’s going through a hard time in her life right now. Maybe she just likes seeing us overcome struggle? Maybe she wants to tell herself that if we can do it, she can too.”

“I… maybe.” Jack seemed to take this idea in a new way. He almost half smiled. “So we’re helping her build her self confidence?”

“Maybe not that, but seeing her work through her problems while writing dozens of story’s all the time makes me proud of her. And it’s interesting to figure out how she’s feeling with the story’s content.”

“Oh yeah? Give me some examples then.” Jack sighed heavily.

“If you come sit back down by me I would. Im still exhausted and maybe if we can finish this story quick enough I can sleep. But we can’t finish until you agree to.”

“If you can give me examples, then I will let her finish the story without interrupting.” Jack promised, sitting back down.

Crutchie curled into his side. “Well. There was that one she wrote about when I was in the hospital because I fell out of a tree?”

Jack snorted. “Yeah. That one wasn’t really realistic.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jack. She wrote it because she was sick of a certain rule that was set for her own safety, but she didn’t want to ignore the rule because she knew she could get hurt herself. And writing that story reminded her how she could get hurt and how disappointed everyone would be in her.”

“Okay, well that’s one out of hundreds of them.” Jack unconsciously examined Crutchies arm, just to make sure it wasn’t broken.

“And one of my least favorites is one of my favorites because of the story behind it.” Crutchie continued, as he played with Jack’s fingers. “The one where you kinda turned to the dark side and were a jerk to me… i lived in the hospital, and you told me you would pay me 500 bucks if I walked across the city to your apartment. I did it because I needed the money to pay my hospital bill and stay alive. And when I did you laughed in my face and-”

“Yes, I would like to not remember that whole story, thank you.” Jack grumbled. “I hated that. I hated what I did to you. How could writing that possible help her with anything?”

“Because she might have had a best friend turn on her, and she felt completely alone and vilified by the world. She didn’t know what else to do, and didn’t like the ending she got. So she gave us the same situation, but with a happier ending.”

“She had a friend who really did that to her?”

“Well her friend might have not made her walk across the city, but they could have made her feel stupid and useless and unloved.”

“Oh.” Jack leaned his head on Crutchies shoulder, then decided to just reposition and lie his head in Crutchies lap. “That’s horrible.”

“Aren’t you glad she chose us to help put her feelings into words?” Crutchie began to run his hands through Jack’s hair.

“I wouldn’t say glad because I hated every word that came out of my mouth, but yeah, I guess. But I still need another example.”

“You’re needy, Jack.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Jack replied. His eyes were closed, and he was just feeling the wonderful sensation of Crutchie playing with his hair.

“Remember that story about us going out west and meeting her at the restaurant where she works?” Crutchie asked quietly. He was exhausted. But he couldn’t go to sleep, even if he wanted to. Playing with Jack’s hair helped a lot though, knowing that Jack was real, and not the refuge. Not anymore.

Jack scowled. “The one where you got lost for three days?”

“Hey, that one wasn’t that bad.”

“Crutchie I was worried sick about you! I couldn’t eat or sleep, I didn’t know if I would ever find you again!”

“But you did, Jack. And we’re okay again.”

“And what was the point of that one anyway, huh?” Jack sat up, much to Crutchies dismay. “She loose a friend once and found ‘em a few days later?”

“She’s lonely Jack. You could tell when she first started talking to us when we came in. She just wants a friend.”

“She’s got plenty of friends.” Jack scoffed. “Em and Kayde and Ammon and Joey-”

“And how long has it been since she’s seen those friends in real life?” Crutchie interrupted. “Most of her friends she’s never even met in person! And the friend she does know in person, what was it, thanksgiving when she last saw Ammon? She thrives on physical contact, and when there’s no one around you feel comfortable with-it’s draining. You of all people should know this Mister Jack can’t take my hands off anyone for a second Kelly.”

Jack didn’t say anything in reply, for the first time actually understanding and realizing.

“I was her friend. She could open up to me. She felt comfortable and happy for the first time in months.”

“Yeah you two were partying while I was sick with worry. Why do I always get the lousy end of the deal?” Jack pressed his thumbs on the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t. You just take it worse then me.”

Jack only grumbled in reply.

“Can we move on with the story now?”

“You’re always so positive about this.” Jack shook his head.

“No. I’m just saying all this to make her happy so she can write me sleeping.”

“Maybe you can ask her nicely?” Jack suggested, pulling Crutchie against him.

“Yeah…” Crutchie yawned and leaned against Jack, feeling warm and safe.

“Just breathe and remember I’m right here.” Jacks soothing voice came in, and Crutchie felt overwhelmed with a happy feeling and when his eyes slipped closed, he didn’t dream about the refuge.