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Race was not having a good day.
His chest was tight since he woke up, his hands shaking. He had woken up late, too, the rest of the newsies already downstairs. Albert and Elmer had tried to wake him up, but he didn’t leave his bed. He had shoved off Albert’s hand, curled up at Elmer’s voice.
A few minutes later, Davey came in and sat at the foot of his bed. He just sat there quietly, tucking his legs to his chest.
“Race?” Davey whispered after a moment.
Race didn’t respond.
“Racetrack.” Davey whispered again.
Race hummed. He could hear Davey sigh, sounding relieved. Davey shifted, leaning back. Race could see Davey’s face as his head thudded against the wall. It was calm, a facade of contentment. Race could see the worry behind his eyes and it made his stomach churn.
“What’s going on?” Davey whispered.
Race shrugged. He hoped Davey could see it under his thin blanket.
“Are you sick?” Davey asked.
Race shook his head now and buried it into his pillow.
“Are you hurt?” Davey asked.
Race shook his head. Davey put a hand on his leg, squeezing once. Race let out a shuddering breath, feeling the pit in his stomach lessen.
“Do you want me to stay?” Davey asked. His voice was so soft.
Race hesitated.
He wanted Davey to stay. Of course he wanted him to stay. The idea of being alone made him feel worse. But it wasn’t fair to him.
So Race shook his head.
“I can stay if you want.” Davey said.
Race felt his eyes burn. He shook his head again, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders stubbornly.
“Okay.” Davey sat there for a moment, his hand rubbing up and down Race’s leg.
Race wanted him to stay.
“Jack’ll see you after the morning paper.” Davey said.
Davey stood, passing a hand through Race’s hair. Race tried not to push his head into Davey’s hand. As soon as it was there, it was gone. Race heard the door shut as he left. Race heard him descend the stairs, saying something to a second set of footsteps.
Race felt himself sink into the bed, every single bone pushing deeper and deeper into the mattress. He blinked slowly, feeling this crushing weight. He sighed, wincing at the pain in his chest. His stomach sank and he squeezed his eyes shut. He put his face into his hands, pressing the pads of his fingers into his forehead. His breaths rattled in his chest, shudders going down his spine. He nestled himself deeper into the bed, bringing his knees up to his chest.
His stomach pitched back and forth as he fought against the tears in his eyes. He refused to let them fall, simply because he was having a bad morning. If he could get rid of this ache in his chest and pit in his stomach, he could go out for the afternoon paper.
If he could get this ache in his chest and pit in his stomach to go away.
His head began hurting from screwing his eyes shut, refusing to cry. He pulled the blanket higher over his head, putting his face into his hands again.
He laid there for hours.
His muscles grew tighter and tighter, and his chest grew tighter, if possible. He was gasping into his hands, the pit in his stomach becoming panic at the thought of actually having to go and do the afternoon paper.
There was a knock at the door and Race tucked himself into himself more.
“Race?” It was Jack.
He had to go out for the afternoon paper. The other newsies had just arrived for lunch, flooding into the main room of the lodging. The voices and thuds of the footsteps made Race wince at every noise.
“Racer?” Jack said. He opened the door.
He crossed to Race’s bed. He sat on the foot of the bed just as Davey had, making the bed dip and move. Race felt his anxiety surge, making his throat burn and his nose.
“How are you?” Jack asked.
Race felt his heart lurch. He let out a shuddering sigh.
“That good, huh?” Jack said. He was trying to smile, Race could hear it in his voice.
Race tried to sit up to look at him, but found he couldn’t. His chest pained him as his breaths staggered.
“Race? Race, can you hear me?” Jack said.
Race let out a whimper. The voices and steps downstairs made the pit in his stomach grow. There was a loud series of knocks at the door.
“Not now.” Jack said.
Race felt nauseous. His body began trembling, his breaths getting harsher.
“Race, listen.” Jack said.
Race shook his head, making Jack touch his leg. Race flinched, the muscles in his body screaming in agony. He felt more hands on his body and he flinched again. Jack grabbed him through the blanket, under his shoulders, and hoisted him up. His feet touched the ground, but Jack pulled him along. Race pressed himself into Jack, eyes still shut. He felt himself being brought up stairs before being placed on a different bed. Race opened his eyes, peering around Jack’s single bedroom. It was significantly quieter here, and Race could be by himself for a while. Jack sat next to him, hands floating above him.
“Are you better now?” Jack asked.
Race shrugged.
“Lie down.” Jack said.
Race did, settling himself on his side in Jack’s bed. Jack pulled a second blanket over him, putting a hand on his chest.
“Breathe,” Jack said, “Remember how to.”
Race nodded. He hadn’t even realized that he was breathing funny until Jack had said so. Jack put his other hand on his back and rubbed it slowly, lightly enough where the blankets didn’t move. The hand on his chest splayed out more, rubbing it as well. Sandwiched between Jack’s hands, he felt the tightness in his chest lessen.
“That’s better.” Jack said.
Race nodded. Jack patted his back and sat at the end of the bed again.
“I need to go to the afternoon paper.” Jack said.
Race nodded. The tightness was coming back, but he still nodded.
“Davey’s much better at this than I am, but he went to school.” Jack said.
Race’s hands began shaking at the thought of being alone again. He didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t, he just wanted someone to stay and sit and not do anything.
“Do you want me to stay?” Jack asked.
Race shook his head no.
“Okay. I’ll check on you at dinner.” Jack said, standing and patting his leg.
Race didn’t react.
Jack left the room, shutting the door after him.
Race let out a gasping breath. He screwed his eyes shut, his eyes welling up with tears. They started dripping out of his eyelids. He let out a sigh and tried not to let it dissolve into anything more. He held it together long enough for his head to pound.
Suddenly, the door opened. Race completely froze, stopping his breathing and his shaking. He clenched his body up, desperately trying to be calm.
“Racer?” Spot’s voice whispered.
Race let out a gasp, sitting up and groaning at the stretching muscles. Spot was standing there, frozen at the door. His normally hard face was soft, and etched with lines and lines of concern. Spot gave him a once-over, closing the door behind him.
“Race, hey, it’s okay.” Spot said. He sat across from Race on the bed, pulling him into a hug. Race returned it immediately, letting out a sob.
He let the ache and pit of anxiety overtake him, he cried and his hands scrabbled for Spot. He pulled Spot close, pressing his face into his neck. Spot shushed him gently, putting a hand to the back of his head.
“You’re okay. You’re okay, Race, you’re okay.” Spot said.
Race shook in his arms, the adrenaline racing. His stomach was rolling and his chest was convulsing as he gasped out breaths. He was still crying, his shoulders shaking as he tried to stop.
“Let it out, Racer. I’ve got you.” Spot said.
Race kept quivering, his hands barely able to get purchase on Spot’s shirt. He felt his breaths beginning to come easier, and he lifted his head from Spot’s neck. Spot put a hand to Race’s face, brushing it with a calloused thumb.
Race was shocked at how gentle Spot could be. The same Spot that threatened to kill Ducky after every small argument, or got in Jack’s face whenever he said the word Brooklyn, could be so unbelievably gentle with Race.
“See? You’re okay, and I’ve got you.” Spot said.
Race made eye contact with Spot. He didn’t look away, and neither did Spot. Spot continued to brush at Race’s cheek, pressing their chests together.
“What happened, Race?” Spot asked after a minute.
Race opened his mouth, but only a croak came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Not sure. Just bad day.”
“Did you make it to either of the papers?” Spot asked.
“No.” Race answered. He felt tears well up at the prospect of a day without selling.
“That’s okay.” Spot said.
Race felt the tears begin to flow again and Spot shushed him quietly.
“It’s okay.” Spot said.
Race cried softly, feeling Spot’s hands on his face. His shoulders shook, but under Spot’s hands he melted. Spot pressed a kiss to Race’s temple, and once more when Race keened. Spot pulled away, trying to meet Race’s eyes again.
“Lie down.” Spot said.
Race did as he was told. He laid down, settling down. Spot moved him and Race adjusted until both of them were comfortable. Race was lying on Spot’s lap, Spot’s hands on Race’s neck and back. He let his eyes close, and he heard Spot sigh.
The tears were stopping, and he only had a few hitching breaths. He pushed closer to Spot. Spot took him gladly, lifting his hands just enough so Race could move and adjust. Once Race had fallen still, Spot’s hands returned to where they were.
Spot’s fingers tousled the hair at the back of Race’s head, tangling and detangling the curls. Spot’s breathing was calm. Race sighed, his hands relaxing where they lay on Spot’s lap.
A shot of sudden, cold panic ran through Race’s chest.
“Can you stay?” Race asked.
“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Spot said.
Race relaxed further.
“Are you okay?” Spot asked.
“Yeah.” Race choked out.
He imagined Spot smiling and he smiled as well.
Race had been asleep for about three hours.
Spot hadn’t stopped rubbing his back or combing through his hair. Race had twitched a few times, nestled into Spot’s lap a little more, but nothing else. Spot had memorized every detail of Race’s face for the fifteenth time, the sixth time that afternoon, noticing a new freckle he hadn’t seen before. He brushed it with his thumb.
There were a few soft knocks at the door. Before Spot could react, it swung open, and Jack Kelly stepped into the room.
Jack froze as Spot stared at him.
Their eyes locked and Jack’s eyes darkened, narrowing as his face turned into a frown. Spot’s face stayed neutral.
In his lap, Race shifted. Spot drew his eyes away from Jack and looked at Race, feeling a smile tug at his lips as Race pressed his face into Spot’s thigh. He kept his face hard and clenched his teeth. He pulled the blanket up over Race’s shoulder before returning his gaze to Jack, challenging him.
Jack looked at Spot, then at Race, and back at Spot.
Jack stared into Spot’s eyes, sizing him up. Finally, Jack sighed, and crossed to Spot. He squatted on the floor next to the bed, making himself eye-level with Spot.
“Is he okay?” Jack whispered.
“Yeah.” Spot said.
“Do you know what happened? Did he say anything?” Jack asked.
“Just mentioned a bad day.” Spot said.
“Understatement.”
“The fuck do you mean?” Spot asked, more violently than he expected to.
“He could barely walk up to this room, he was shaking so bad.” Jack said.
Almost unconsciously, Spot pulled Race closer. Jack seemed to notice and scoffed. It wasn’t as condescending as Spot expected it to be, it was almost caring.
“You got it bad,” Jack said, “How long have you two…” Jack gestured between them.
“Few months.” Spot shrugged, keeping his eyes on Race. He could feel his face heating up. There was no way Spot was gonna tell Jack that it had been almost a year and a half.
“How did you get up here?” Jack asked.
“You all had gone to the afternoon paper. And since Race wasn’t at the morning paper, and wasn’t at the afternoon paper, he had to be here.” Spot answered simply.
“And you just came in?” Jack asked.
“Yeah.” Spot said.
Jack’s face almost twisted into a snarl, but Race shifted again, bringing an arm around Spot’s waist. Jack just watched as Spot pulled Race closer, allowing Race to push his face into Spot’s stomach. Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Nobody else will bother you. I just wanted to check on Race.” Jack said.
“I appreciate it.” Spot said gruffly.
Jack nodded. His gaze lingered on Race for a moment, before he stood and grabbed another blanket from the corner of the room. He walked over to Spot, tucking it around his shoulders.
The two of them locked eyes for a moment, just staring at each other. Jack sighed and rubbed a hand across his face again, putting his hands on his hips and looking at Race.
“I may not trust you. But if he does, it’s a start for me.” Jack said.
Spot looked at Jack, raising his eyebrows. Jack touched a hand to his shoulder.
“Can you do me a favor?” Spot said.
“What makes you think—” Jack said.
“Don’t tell him that you know. Don’t tell others about this either.” Spot interrupted.
Jack stared at him, lips pressed in a line. Spot let his face relax as he stared back, letting Jack see his emotion. Jack’s face also softened and he glanced down at the floor.
“Please.” Spot said.
“I won’t.” Jack replied. He stood and walked to the door.
“Jack.”
“I won’t.” Jack said fiercely.
“Thank you.” Spot said. Jack stared at him for a moment.
“You don’t have to be afraid, though.” Jack said.
Spot nodded to Jack once more as he left. Jack closed the door behind him. Spot could hear him mutter to a second voice and two sets of feet descended the stairs.
Spot looked down at Race where he lay. Spot adjusted Race’s limp arms slowly, making it so he could lie down as well. He laid in the middle of the bed, moving Race so he was lying mostly on top of him.
Race pushed his face into Spot’s shoulder, adjusting himself. Spot took his hands off of him for the moments he was squirming, then wrapped his arms around his waist.
Race suddenly lifted his head, blinking groggily at Spot. He lifted a hand to Spot’s face, squinting at him before smiling.
“You’re still here?” Race said.
“Ducky’s in charge. I’ve got you.” Spot said.
“Alright.” Race said.
“Are you okay now?” Spot said.
“Better that you are here.” Race said.
Race tucked his face into Spot’s neck, nosing his adam’s apple. Spot pressed a kiss to his head, making Race sigh.
“I’ve got you, Racer. I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”