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In some ways, Racetrack Higgins had a repetitive life. Every single day they would wake up, offer Weasel some snarky comment, buy their papes, head over the Brooklyn bridge, and start selling outside Sheepshead. It was after that that their day deviated. Sometimes there was a good headline that would let them get through their papers with ease. Race always loved those days. Those were the days they had an excuse to go and spend their time Definitely Not Flirting with Spot Conlon. They were both ‘good boys who would never break the law in such a way!’ Those were the times when they felt most like themself; a little less afraid of who and what they were. But that wasn’t every day. There were days when the headlines weren’t so good; the days when Race dragged themself back across the bridge with a bag still half full of papes and an empty stomach pleading to be fed. Those were the worst days.
The most unstable part of Race’s schedule was where they slept each night. The most common were the nights they spent in Manhattan. Usually, Race found themself stuck sharing a bunk with Albert or Blink or even Romeo when the kid broke out the puppy eyes. They still found it impossible to say no to him when he did that. As tough as Racetrack occasionally pretended to be, they were absolute putty in the hands of the younger Newsies. There were some nights where Race found themself on the rooftop; nights when they simply needed somewhere quiet or somewhere to go to just think. Jack would always ask if they wanted to talk. Even when they didn’t, he was still there; just one word away from pulling them into a bone crushing hug. Jack Kelly was a mother hen in disguise. Race couldn’t help but look up to him. But isn’t that what all kids did? Look up to their older brother? The worst nights were the ones where Race found themself hiding out on the streets. Sometimes they were out far too late selling or the weather was turning brutal. It wasn’t a reasonable prospect that they’d be able to get to the lodge house. Instead, Race would find some alleyway or crevice to hide away in and hope everything would be fine in the morning. Though, morning usually came with a worried rant from Jack. But Race’s favourite nights were the ones they spent in Brooklyn.
Staying in Brooklyn was something Race did sparingly. After all, they were Jack Kelly’s second-in-command. People could argue that it was bad enough that Race sold in Brooklyn. If they started to spend every night there, it would call into question the stability of the Manhattan ‘hierarchy’. Besides, Manhattan was Race’s home and they wouldn’t forsake it easily; not for Brooklyn and not even for Spot Conlon. Spot Conlon. The ‘King’ of Brooklyn. The reason why Race enjoyed spending so much time in Brooklyn. They wouldn’t openly say they were in a relationship with Spot but the two of them were...something. Race knew that they loved him and they hated that they had to hide it. The best thing about spending nights in Brooklyn was hiding out in the back room that had been deemed Spot’s ‘office’. It felt like the only place they could truly be themselves. Inside the back room, they weren’t Spot and Race. They were Sean and Anthony. They were undeniably in love. They had no shame. They had nothing to hide. They had each other.
This was one of those many nights in Brooklyn. It had been a good night. Race was drifting off to sleep with Spot cuddled close in their arms. It was perfect . Apparently, their dreams had no intentions of reflecting that perfection. It was as they fell asleep that a storm began. The thundering rain seemed to make its way into their very subconscious.
It was more of a memory than a dream; the night when eleven year old Anthony Higgins met a thirteen year old Jack Kelly for the first time. The night they lost their mother but gained a brother. The rain that night had been brutal; as if the sky itself were weeping. They remembered the banging on the front door. They remembered their mother’s words as she held them close. “ I love you, Tony. So, so much. Never forget that .” Then the door burst open and it was as if hell itself had been released. Pigs swarmed inside, separating Race from their mother. Race remembered them reading out the charges against her but it wasn’t until they were older that they fully understood them. Sophia Higgins was charged with stealing money from her work place. She had been taking the money to keep them afloat financially; to stop Race from working. The look of anguish on her face as she was dragged away was burned into Race’s mind like a brand. It was the last time they ever saw her. As they watched her being dragged away, Race didn’t want to wait for the bulls to grab them too. Instead, they snatched one of their mother’s coats and took off running. It was the only thing they took from home. The coat and the cigar in its left pocket. Their mother always said they helped with stress.
Race knew what happened next. They kept running until Jack found them. Jack took them back to the lodge house and the rest was history. Only...Jack didn’t find them this time. He just walked past Race as if they weren’t really there. He pushed past them, not even sparing them a second glance. But it wasn’t just Jack. More people appeared. Albert. Blink. Crutchie. Finch. Romeo...Spot. No one noticed them. No one cared about the drenched boy in the oversized coat and clutching their mother’s cigar like it was a lifeline. No matter how much they begged, no one looked back. So Race started screaming; shouting as they pleaded for even a smidgen of acknowledgement; for someone to - “Race!”
A voice shattered their dreamscape as Racetrack’s eyes snapped open. It took them a few moments to fully come to their senses. They weren’t out in the rain. They were inside. They were safe. Glancing up, their eyes met Spot’s as he looked over them with a look of pure concern on his face. “Racer.” He repeated their name. That was all it took to ground Race back into reality. Someone acknowledging them; someone caring. Race didn’t even hesitate before hugging him tightly, pulling him close. Slowly but surely, Spot returned the hug. “Easy, Tony. I’m here, okay? I’m here and I’m not going anywhere."
If it was even possible, Race tightened the hug. “Promise?” Their voice cracked as they spoke and Race was acutely aware of the fact they were crying.
“I promise, pretty boy.” Spot moved to wipe their tears away gently. “You’re stuck with me now.”
For a fraction of a second, Race managed to crack a smile. “Not stuck with you, polka-dots. I like being around you.”
“Good. Because I like being around you too.” Spot sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?” Race shook their head. “...Do you want to cuddle for a while?” They hesitated before nodding slowly. “C’mere then.” He moved slightly until he was laying with Race in his arms. He carded a hand through their hair. “I’m always here for you, okay? Mo ghrá thú. ”
Race managed a small smile at that. “I love you too, polka-dots.” They didn’t manage to fall back asleep but the storm finally stopped tormenting them. When they were in Spot’s arms, Race felt as if nothing in the world could hurt them.