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Michael Meyers was born hearing. He was a very sickly child, and had chronic ear infections. Over time, his hearing deteriorated until he couldn’t hear anything at all, at the age of 13.
It was then that his father deemed him useless and locked him out of the house to fend for himself or die. And so he started walking. It was so cold outside. Mid January. It only took about an hour for the snow to begin to fall and for Mush to collapse on the stoop of a building, coughs wracking through his body. He couldn’t focus on anything, the world swirled around him and if he had had anything in his stomach, it wouldn’t have been there much longer.
What was the point? He had no where to go. He stopped talking months ago, and it wasn’t like he could hear the answers to anything he said anyways. No one cared about him anymore.
Just as his body started to feel strangely warm despite the snow building up around him, someone was shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes slowly, unable to see straight. There was a thin figure before him- very small looking. Like a child. Like someone his age.
He started to close his eyes again only to get a quick smack on the cheek. He flinched and stared at the figure, struggling to focus. What an asshole!
The figure’s mouth kept moving. Too bad Michael couldn’t read lips. He took pity on him though and just shook his head, pointing at his ears. “They don’t work,” he mouthed slowly. “Leave me here, not worth your time.”
The figure got closer and Michael could make out that it was a boy. Black hair, tan skin, one eye covered with an eye patch. There was a paper bag slung over his shoulder. A newsie then.
The boy frowned and furrowed his brow. Michael repeated the lip movement and he seemed to understand that time-
Except now he was trying to make Michael get up. Apparently he had been misunderstood.
“No,” he tried to say. His throat hurt and he couldn’t tell if he actually made a noise.
The boy looped Michael’s arm around his shoulders anyways and wrapped an arm around him, moving surprisingly fast for someone basically carrying anther person of equal weight.
Michael didn’t have the energy to fight it. At some point, he believes someone picked him up, but he was so out of it that he didn’t even really notice.
Someone woke him up very gently. Fingers tapping on his cheek. He moaned in complaint and turned over before he suddenly realized he was warm. And in a bed.
He sat up quickly, head swimming, and blinked blearily. He got dizzy from moving too quickly and swayed a little. Someone very gently pressed him back against the pillows. It was the boy from earlier and now that Michael had a good look at him, he realized he was awfully pretty. The eye that was uncovered was a nice dark brown color, deep and calming. Short flat nose, soft looking hair, thin face, sharp chin. Really pretty.
Michael didn’t realize he was staring until pretty boy cocked a brow and tapped his cheek again. He started and flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Apparently satisfied, pretty boy nodded and grabbed a glass from the table next to the bed they were on, gently pressing it to his lips.
He blinked in surprise but accepted the drink, his hands coming up around the glass slowly. Within a few seconds, he drained the whole cup. Pretty boy smiled encouragingly. He smiled weakly in return, unsure.
Apparently, it was the right thing to do. The boy then grabbed a nearby newspaper and a pencil. Slowly, he wrote something out on the margin, probably trying to get all the words spelled correctly. When he was finished, he flipped it around so Michael could read it.
‘Can ya read?’ was scrawled on it in messy letters. He made a so-so motion with his hand and the boy nodded, taking the paper back. He wrote something else down.
‘Name is kid blink.’ When he handed over the paper, Kid Blink smirked and pointed to his covered eye. Michael stared and then cracked a small smile. He took the pencil from Kid Blink.
‘Michael Meyers.’
Kid Blink read the name and then studied Michael for a long moment. ‘We’ll get ya a new one.’
Michael frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he hesitantly took the pencil again. ‘New what?’
Kid Blink smiled with his teeth this time. ‘New name, new family, new life.’
*****
Bruises were hard to see on Mush’s dark skin. And being a rambunctious, clumsy boy, he never knew which were his own anyways. But he definitely noticed, around the age of eight, when scars started showing up. The first one showed up on his palm, like he had grabbed something hot. He ran crying to his mother, wailing because he thought he couldn’t feel anything in his hand anymore, but she assured him that he was okay and that it must’ve been his soulmate.
He had been excited for days, looking at the palms of every person he met, hoping to find the scar, but he never did. He held on hope though, hoped that he would find them. He had to, right? That’s how it worked.
He was determined to find them and to not waste a single second when he did. No matter what.
*****
Six months into being a newsie, he was happier than he had ever been. Blink had given him a new name after a few days- Mush- and he felt at home with the newsies at the lodging house. He learned how to shoot a slingshot from Finch, played marbles with Boots, Sniper, and Elmer, joined in the poker games with Race, Albert, and Blink, and learned how to be confident enough to speak again. And privately, he and Blink learned sign language together from one of the nuns.
His world spun one morning, first time he woke up before Blink. He slept on the bottom bunk while Blink slept on the top, and he happened to wake up a few minutes before the morning bells were going to ring, before Race would start going around and yelling people awake. A few minutes to himself.
He breathed in the musty air of the lodging house and sat up, stretching out his limbs. After a few minutes, he grew bored, and decided to climb up into Blink’s bed.
He smiled at the sleeping form of his friend and gently curled up next to him, tugging his blanket so it covered both of them. He started gently prodding at Blink’s chest, giggling to himself when Blink pouted and seemed to grumble. Finally, after poking Blink smack dab in the middle of the forehead, he opened his eye. Mush beamed and lifted his hand for a simple wave. Blink yawned, looking fondly exasperated until his eye caught on something. Quickly, he reached out and grabbed Mush’s wrist, sitting up to stare at the scar on his hand.
Mush flinched at the sudden movement and jerked back without thinking, his smile gone and face pale. Blink grimaced and held out his hand in apology before he started signing. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Is your hand okay? Did you burn it?”
Mush blinked slowly and then looked at his palm before looking at Blink sheepishly. “Soulmate scar,” he signed. “Kind of forgot about it, actually. It showed up when I was like 8 or so.”
Something unreadable crossed over Blink’s face and he rubbed his hand for a moment. Mush nodded sagely, assuming it was the same reaction most people gave him, sympathetic winces and such. “Yeah, I know. Must’ve hurt a lot.”
Blink’s eye widened and he swallowed hard. “You knew?” He asked, looking a bit shook up.
Mush furrowed his brows, looking at Blink for a long moment. He didn’t understand what Blink meant. Was there a mistranslation perhaps? Did someone sign the wrong thing? “My mama told me when it first showed up,” he signed slowly, unsure of how to answer. “Told me my soulmate probably touched something they shouldn’t’ve.”
Blink nodded slowly, regarding Mush with a slightly narrowed eye and his lips pursed. He was saved from any further conversation when the morning bells rang. He quickly jumped down from the bunk and started waking people up, leaving Mush to stare after him and wonder what in the world just happened.
They had papers to sell though, and The World didn’t wait for anyone.
*****
Shortly after Mush turned 14, Jack Kelly, 15 at the time, was put into the Refuge. It wasn’t the first time he had been put in there, the first time had been just before Blink brought Mush home, a little over a year before. But he had been caught smuggling food and clothes in there. Finch had been with him and Finch only got away because Snyder mostly just wanted Jack.
16 year old Finch was almost sobbing when he had to tell everyone, his hands shaking and his knees scraped from tripping over a curb and taking a fall. Specs gently sat him down in the free room, grabbing some cloth and water to clean off the blood and dirt.
Mush stared, wide eyed, and took a shaky step back, bumping into Blink behind him. He turned to apologize, but Blink simply shook his head and pulled Mush into a gentle hug.
Blink always knew what to do to comfort Mush. Mush always knew how to make Blink smile. That’s how it worked, but this? No one would be okay until Cowboy was home.
Mush glanced at Finch and for the first time, he realized how utterly hopeless he looked and probably felt. Mush had never seen him like that. Finch had always been a rock for the newsies, an annoying older brother who, despite his teasing, loved his siblings.
He later realized, that night, that that was the exact reason Finch was so shaken up. He’d take a bullet for any kid in the lodging house, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t save Jack, the second in command of the lodging house. He couldn’t save his little brother when it really mattered.
(When Jack came back, two weeks later, Mush saw how Finch couldn’t even look at him without guilt piling high on his shoulders. He had tears in his eyes every time he saw a bruise, every time Jack flinched. Mush wanted to help, but he had no idea how. He had no idea what it must feel like to be in that position. (Years later, he would know exactly as he and Blink sat vigil at Race’s bedside every night, wiping away the sweat from his brow.))
*****
Mush adored Race. He followed Race around like a lost puppy when Blink wasn’t around, enraptured by the blonde newsie. Just before he turned fifteen, he realized he had a crush on the older boy, and he panicked. He avoided everyone but only made it a few hours before Blink found him. Mush never explained what exactly freaked him out, but Blink simply told him that no matter what, Mush would always have him. They would always have each other.
Just after he turned fifteen, Mush got over his crush on Racetrack, and started to notice someone else instead.
*****
Mush sat back on his palms and looked up at the sky, staring at the moon. Blink sat next to him, staring at Mush like he was his moon.
Mush glanced at Blink and smiled, lopsided. “Whaddya lookin’ at?” He said, a little too loudly.
Blink didn’t mind. He never did. He just smiled and shrugged, stretching his arms out. “I dunno,” he said, making sure he leaned into the moonlight so Mush could see his lips. It was an unconscious thought at this point really.
Mush opened his mouth when something caught his eye. He blinked and gently grabbed Blink’s hand, looking at his palm, squinting in the dim light. There was a scar, just like the one Mush had on his own hand. Blink almost always had a glove on the one hand, saying that his hands were cold but he could only afford one glove, which Race usually replied with a quick, “Couldya only afford one eye too?” which quickly derailed the conversation.
But his hand had a burn mark across the palm, pink and shiny. Healed over for years.
Before he could get a good look, Blink pulled his hand away and shoved it in his pocket looking at Mush with an unreadable expression.
“I have a burn just like that one,” Mush said, holding out his hand.
Blink swallowed and opened his mouth, but Mush plowed on, not noticing. “Did your soulmate give ya that too? ‘S funny that both our soulmates are so clumsy!”
Mush looked up and grinned, looking amused, and Blink stared at him, dumbfounded. “You serious right now?” He asked slowly, still staring.
His smile faltered a little and shifted. “If you don’t wanna talk about ya soulmate, ya don’t have to,” Mush mumbled, a bit hurt. Blink usually liked his jokes but whatever, it didn’t matter.
Blink didn’t move for a long moment and Mush looked up after minute, wondering if he even cared. He was met with cold hands cupping his face and pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss with chapped lips.
Mush pulled away, mis mouth open a gap and staring at Blink in shock. Before he could even start to try to piece together a sentence, Blink started signing something.
“I’m your soulmate, idiot.”
Mush stared at him some more. Sentences still weren’t working. Did Blink really just sign that? Did it matter?
He decided it really didn’t and he surged forward again, kissing Blink awkwardly but passionately. There was a little bit of fumbling around until they found a good spot, tucked underneath the fire escape stairs, Bink’s back against the building next to the window with Mush in his lap. The warm summer night’s air blew around them but the city was quiet for once, New York fast asleep while two boys kissed under the stars.
*****
After that night, the two became more inseparable than ever. As often as they could, they spent nights out where nobody could see them, wrapped in each other as they slept, stealing soft kisses and hidden touches. They learned each other like never before, talking about stories behind each individual scar, signing sweet nothings into the wind. They became experts at nonverbal communication, knowing each other with a single look or smile.
Blink was always fast to Mush’s defense, even when he didn’t need it. For example, when Blink snapped at Race for smoking in the lodge. Mush appreciated it, but he put a gentle hand on Blink’s arm and gave him a pointed look when he met him at the doorway heading downstairs. Blink got the point, but he was grumpy that they had to sleep at the lodging house.
Boots and Race didn’t come back that night and they all exchanged nervous looks but surely it was nothing. Right?
Boots came home the next morning, upset and escorted by one of the Brooklyn newsies. They came across Blink and Mush first. Boots ran to Mush and hugged him tightly while Blink placed his hand flat on the Brooklyn newsie’s chest. “Why is you’se in ‘Hattan?” he demanded. “And where’s Race?”
The Brooklyn newsie bared his teeth. “Restin’,” he said with a scowl. “Gettin’ stabbed will make ya wanna rest.”
The rest of the meeting was a bit of a blur, Mush scared on Race’s behalf. According to his request, they brought a deck of cards to Brooklyn, selling the evening pape on the way there. Albert came with him, a scowl on his face, but Mush knew him well enough to see the fear in his eyes. Jack wouldn’t let Mush and Blink go on their own though, after finding out that it was race that caused conflict. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt so he insisted someone white went with them, and Albert quickly volunteered.
When they got there, Race was talking softly with Spot Conlon himself, already gotten comfortable enough to be ragging on him for something or another. Mush let out a soft sigh of relief at that, glad to see that it couldn’t’ve been too bad then, if Race was still joking around.
(He’d see, months later, how Race hid his pain through his jokes and lighthearted comments. He realized Race had always hid his trauma that way.)
Mush quickly sat down next to Race and beamed, taking his hand and gently squeezing it before pulling out Race’s favorite deck of cards. “We can play poker now,” he explained loudly.
Race grinned and mussed up Mush’s hair. Slowly, he pushed himself up, waving Spot off when he moved forward, as if to help.
Race said something to Spot and gestured to the side of his own head. Mush’s smile faltered as he realized he was replying to Spot, and he had a feeling he knew what he was replying to.
He looked down and missed the look Blink shot Race, who then winced and tapped Mush’s knee with an apologetic smile. “You wanna deal us all in?” He said, making sure to enunciate his words a little more than he usually did.
Mush pursed his lips. He wasn’t a child, he could take care of himself, damn it. He didn’t need everyone else babying him. He didn’t reply to Race, instead just dealing the cards. He made eye contact with Spot and expected to see some pity or judgment. Instead, he was met with a look of respect, and a nod.
He blinked, taken aback for a split second, but decided to just play. What Spot Conlon thought of him didn’t really matter, but he had to admit it felt nice to be respected.
*****
Blink gently pinned him to the wall, hands under Mush’s shirt and pressed against the soft skin of his stomach, his knee between Mush’s legs as he kissed along Mush’s neck, nibbling along his jawline. The shirt was already unbuttoned enough for Blink to suck bruises on to his collarbone.
Mush shivered, letting out soft pants as he grabbed Blink’s hair with one hand and the back of his shirt with the other. Blink pulled back and grinned at him, mischief dancing in his eye. Mush couldn’t help but smile back, pressing their lips together once again.
This was good. It was perfect even. They were happy like this, and Mush wanted the rest of his life to be just this.
(Of course, it wasn’t. How could it be? Why would the universe ever allow them to just have their happiness?)
*****
As Race whipped around into the street and ran to the bridge, and Mush saw the bulls, he suddenly remembered Finch that night years ago. Knees bloody, hands shaking, eyes wide.
His stomach dropped and he shouted, trying to warn them. It was too late. Of course it was too late.
Blink dragged him away, as fast as he could.
Mush saw the bull snap the club against Race’s skull. He saw him fall like a leaf falling off an autumn tree. His vision swam. He felt ill and all he wanted to do was fix it. He just wanted to fix it.
He wouldn’t give up Race and Spot’s secret, no matter how much Crutchie glared, no matter how much Jack pleaded, trying to understand. He couldn’t.
It was his fault.
Spot Conlon came to the lodging house with his newsies. Newsies Mush and Blink had met before but now wouldn’t even look at them.
They deserved it.
(Conlon pulled them to the side at one point. Told them he didn’t want to hear a damn thing out or either of them until he had Race back. Blink almost protested, but Mush stopped him. Spot had the right to say that. Especially after what they did to him and Race. Once Race was back, they would explain.)
Blink and Mush sat by Race’s bedside during the night when he finally was brought home. They took turns sleeping when they could, but most of the night, they simply worried. They wiped his brow with a cold cloth, checked his breathing, kept him warm, changed his bandages.
They stayed out of the lodging house whenever Spot was there. The two were quiet, not speaking to anyone except unconscious Race. They did anything and everything they could to help. They were the cause of this, they hurt their brother.
When they heard that Race woke up, Mush broke down into sobs, collapsing into a ball on the sidewalk. He was so relieved and scared and stressed and he felt sick. He just wanted Race to be okay.
Blink sat down next to him head bowed. He was going through the same thing.
Jack studied them for a long moment before hunkering down in front of them. He gently patted Mush’s cheek to get him to look at him. “We knows why they ran,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “We figured about… About you’se two too.”
Mush paled and grabbed Blink’s arm but before he could do anything, Jack pulled him into a gentle hug, rubbing his back. He shook his head and held him tight for a moment, only pulling back so Mush could read his lips.
“You’se okay,” Jack whispered to them both. “None of us care none, okay? We is all really happy for you, actually. Findin’ you’se soulmates.”
Mush lurched forward to get another hug, and he felt Blink press against his back, also hugging Jack. They were okay. Everyone was okay. Everything would be okay.
*****
That evening met Mush anxiously stepping to Race’s bedside with Blink behind him, watching as Race and Romeo talked quietly. Race didn’t notice them until Mush let out a soft, “I’m sorry.”
Race’s head whipped around, and his face softened, reaching out for both of them. “Come on, Mush, Kid,” he said, squeezing Mush’s wrist gently when Mush stepped close enough. “You really think I’se mad at you? Nah, I cant be mad at you.”
Mush covered Race’s hand with his own, so gentle and light. “You should be mad,” he said, lip trembling. “We spooked ya.”
He shook his head and lightly tugged Mush closer. “Nah,” he repeated, a little more firmly. “I can’t be mad at you.” He grinned crookedly, despite the pain he had to be in. “’Sides, what would I do without my poker buddies?”
A watery giggle escaped Mush, the first one since Race had been locked up. Race looked all too smug about it, that ass. Mush could feel the air on his shoulder as Blink let out a shaky sigh, and then he gently touched Mush’s back. Mush glanced at him, recognizing that he was about to speak. “Should I get the cards then?” He asked.
Mush looked back to Race who, with the help of Romeo, sat up, propped up against the wall with a lot of pillows and blankets. “You know it,” Race said, patting the bed. Mush sat next to Romeo and smiled nervously. Race squeezed his hand and gave him a look. “I mean it, Mushy,” he said softly. “I do forgive you.”
Mush believed him, his smile widening. The world seemed bright once again.
*****
A few months later, June came with the warmth of summer. Mush leaned against the wall, watching Blink amusedly as he grumbled, looking all around Race’s bunk. “I know he took it, that shithead,” Mush could see him say. He giggled a little, and Blink looked up at him with an annoyed scowl. Blink’s hat had been gone from his nightstand and he was positive that Race took it. Mush, on the other hand, knew it was actually Elmer had taken it, trying to impress a girl with a nice hat since his own looked like he threw it into the street every day for a year.
“We’re gonna be late to poker night,” he said, knowing Albert would be an absolute nuisance if they made him wait too long.
Blink huffed. “I’se gonna give Racer a piece of my mind when we get there,” he grumbled.
Mush just smiled and got up, kissing him softly. “You can’t tell him off if we’re not there,” he reminded him smugly.
Blink sighed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Let’s just grab the rat children and go.”
Mush giggled, smacking his arm. “You can’t call Strings and Soda rat children.”
A shrug was his answer before he started heading towards the stairs. Mush followed close behind. They quickly found the two kids who were in the front hall playing with Boots. Marbles were being rolled on the floor and they seemed to be trying to see who could get it moving around the longest.
He smiled at the sight and clapped his hands together to get the kids’ attention. “We’se heading to poker night,” Mush said to them. Soda grinned, looking almost feral with her raggedy hair and missing front tooth that she had lost a few days prior. She pulled her brother up and waved bye to Boots before scampering out the door, Strings being tugged along behind. Boots waved to Mush and Blink as they followed the two.
“Stay close!” Mush called out to them, worrying his lip between his teeth. Blink gently nudged him and smiled softly, making Mush smile and stop chewing on his lip.
The four of them sneaked onto the back of the trolley to get into Brooklyn, and hopped off a couple blocks from the Brooklyn lodging house. Soda and Strings picked up pebbles off the street as they walked, talking excitedly to each other as Blink and Mush walked behind them, quiet and fond.
Not wanting to be overheard, Mush signed to Blink. “I’m glad you found me on those steps.” His fingers were slow and hesitant, and for a moment, he thought Blink might not understand.
But, of course, Blink proved him wrong, his signs sure and true. “You were covered in snow and you were so very small. I’m surprised I could even see you.”
Mush snorted a little. Since his growth spurt hit, he was one of the tallest newsie. Naturally, Blink outdid him and while he was barely a half inch taller, he was still taller. “Lack of food will do that to a kid,” he said, taking a leaf out of Race’s book by attempting to hide his trauma with jokes.
Blink gave him an unimpressed look but their conversation was interrupted and ended by their arrival at the Brooklyn Lodging House. They went inside to the common room where Race, Spot, Bee, Ace, and a few other Brooklyn newsies were setting up for the game. Strings and Soda disappeared to go create chaos with the Brooklyn lil’uns while Mush and Blink sat at the table.
“Ya ready to lose?” Race asked cockily, shuffling the deck of cards.
Spot scoffed and watched him with a fond smile. “Why haven’t we banned you from playing yet?” He said teasingly.
Race made a face and swatted his shoulder. Bee and Ace snickered to each other.
Mush leaned against Blink’s shoulder, and smiled at his friends. The game started, snide comments were made as Race’s little pile of treasure grew larger. Eyes were bright and laughing as the evening turned to night.
*****
The strike had been hell. It had only been a few months since Race had finally woken up after the Refuge when Crutchie was put in it. Mush and Blink were still trying to make up for it, checking in on him and such. Race rolled his eyes, but he didn’t tell them off for it. He probably understood that they needed it more than he needed it, so he let it be. Race was always smart like that.
They had all won the strike though, and they celebrated well into the night. Blink and Mush, not having to hide when within the walls of the lodging house. They laid together in Blink’s bed, since it was top bunk and a little more private, and simply breathed in the same space. Mush gently traced the scar on Blink’s palm, and pressed kisses to it, as if he could soothe the hurt that had long passed.
Blink simply watched with a fond smile. After a while, he took Mush’s hand and brought it to his face, lightly kissing each finger. Mush allowed his eyes to drift over Blink’s face, taking in each detail in the dim flickering light of the candles that were lit. He, of course, was undisturbed by the cheers and shouting of the boys, but he could feel the vibration of boys stumbling, chairs scraping, the pounding of tables. Yet, admist all of the chaos, he felt a calm peace in his heart.
Blink felt it too, of course. He always did. He understood Mush like no other. And in that moment, he could read Mush like a book, could see the contentedness in the sleepy slope of his brows, could see the peace in the lazy smile on his lips, could see the love in those hazelnut brown eyes.
They were very rudely interrupted when Race clambered up int the bunk and laid on top of them, his breath smelling of cheap alcohol. Mush squeaked and struggled underneath him while Blink cursed him out, but it only took a couple minutes before their protests dissolved into laughter. A few minutes more, and Race convinced the two of them to join in the festivities rather than hole up in their bed.
Midnight met the boys singing loudly and off key some bar ditties that they had picked up from adults on the street, and a song or two that Jack learned from the wonderful Miss Medda, and, of course, a church song Elmer learned from the nuns, that quickly turned into the raunchiest song of them all.
Mush catched the eye of Blink and beamed. He was happy. They were all happy.