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English
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Published:
2022-06-13
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1/1
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weird autumn night

Summary:

Jack goes to visit the Jacobses, only to find David crying on the fire escape.

Notes:

Dialogue prompt: "Why are you asking me that?"

Work Text:

The fire escape rattled as Jack climbed up, undeterred by the slight spittle of late autumn rain freezing on his cheeks. All the trees were brown, and the sky was gray, brewing thick with a storm angry enough to change the seasons.

Jack knew he'd heard somebody on the landing above him, and thought nothing of it until he reached the Jacobs’ floor. He took pause at the top of the steps, staring with alarm down at David Jacobs, curled up in the corner with his knees against his chest.

By no means did Jack consider himself a genius, and graciously it didn't take one to see that David was upset. Judging by the way the part of his face that was slightly visible over his arm looked taut and pained, he had probably been crying, too, or was about to. There had been countless times where Jack accidentally walked in on another boy when they were trying to take a moment to collect themselves. The lodging house wasn't all that big, after all, and from firsthand experience Jack knew that the cramped confines of the dormitory was no place to let anything seep through where anyone could see. Wearing your heart anywhere somebody could see was a good way to get it crushed, or worse, scrutinized.

Sometimes a fellow just has to take a minute for himself. Sometimes days, or even weeks. It wasn't unusual. However, Jack hadn't known David long enough to know what was usual for him or not. Maybe David had a habit of sitting out on the fire escape when Jack wasn't around that he simply didn't know about yet. Or maybe, this was a deviation from normalcy. In either case Jack should show his concern and support, because that's what a pal would do. And they weren't just pals, they were best pals, which called upon more than the bare minimum that Jack was used to.

David didn't say anything to him. But he didn't tell him to scram, either. Jack thought it was reasonable to stick around, even though his heart was pattering and his body was already resisting the pull of the stairwell calling his name. Age-old instinct hammered into his buzzing nerves told him to turn around and run back into the alley below.

Jack's head, however, warned him that David—constantly surrounded by the warm bosom center of his family—needed somebody beside him when things got tough. He was used to being cared about a certain way. If Jack left now, David's opinion of him would almost certainly plummet. More importantly, David would be left alone when he needed somebody to depend upon; likely, before Jack, that person had been Sarah. Which begged the question of why David was outside at all, in the cold and the muggy air foretelling of downpour, instead of inside with his family where he belonged. Without a coat, at that.

Jack noticed that the curtains were drawn and the window was pulled shut. There wasn't another sign of life around, except for the whipping of damp underthings on the clotheslines slicing through the aperture of sky above them.

Jack staunchly approached David, who didn't move at all as Jack lowered down beside him with a grunt.

“Hey, Dave,” said Jack, kindly as he could. Shoulder to shoulder, he didn't have to glance over to know David was shivering. “You all right?”

David shrugged, lifting his head so his chin rested on his stacked forearms. Bloodshot eyes stared blearily at the building across from them.

Jack chewed his lip. “You want me to go?” Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe David was the type of guy to cherish his alone time more than Jack thought.

David shrugged a second time. Then he muttered, “No.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Jack could tell that David was cold, so he slipped his coat from around his shoulders and fixed it over David's, holding it there with his arm around David's neck.

“Look, Dave,” Jack started once the tension in David's shoulders had eased some. “If there's anything you wanna, you know, talk about– I'll listen.”

Boyishly shameful, David hid his face in the crook of his elbow, clutching Jack's coat closer to him with his other fist.

Minutes later, David spoke up.

“What made you want to be my friend?” He asked unsteadily. “Why did you care whether I walked away with nineteen papes or twenty?”

Those were two very different questions. Jack didn't know which David wanted him to answer first.

“I don't like seeing nobody get bummed around by Weasel.”

“So that's it? You stood up for me out of principle?”

“Well… There's more to it than that.”

“Tell me about it, then. What made you want to be my friend?”

A lot of reasons came to mind, too many to pick through, especially when he didn't know the sort of response David was looking for. Or better yet, what he needed to hear right now.

Probably he didn't need to hear the truth. Not that Jack would be able to tell it to begin with. Shame settled deep in his bones, looking back on the day that they met, and the weeks leading up to it.

David didn't need to hear that Jack had dragged him into a partnership because he'd been so unspeakably desperate for company that he latched onto the first stranger that caught his attention. David had been hard not to notice, making a scene like that on his very first day.

“Want me to be honest?”

“Yeah,” David said warily. “I can take it.”

“I thought you were the bravest person I ever met.”

David couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped him. “I thought you said you were going to be honest, Jack. You're just–”

“I ain't improving the truth,” Jack insisted with a smile, jostling David good-naturedly. “I'm serious. Yeah, you stumbled into the square looking like a lost puppy, but you left it a million times more confident than you was before. You stood right beside us and took a chance when not even Spot Conlon would, at first. You marched right into Pulitzer's office and made him listen to you like it was nothin’. That's pretty brave, Davey.”

“I guess so.”

“Whaddya mean, you ‘guess so?’”

“I just…” David sighed, deflating. “That’s not really me. That's not who I am, but I wish it was. This is going to sound really pathetic, but I've never felt more alive in my life than I did that week. I'm not an interesting person, Jack. I'm not brave or strong, and I never know what to say. I barely even know what's going on half the time.”

David's voice tapered out, and Jack wanted to grab him by his shoulders and shake him. He couldn't believe it was really Davey saying all of this.

“The only reason I was able to do any of that is because of you, Jack,” David said ruefully. “You inspire people to do great things.”

“And you don't?”

David regarded Jack strangely, like he was talking in tongues or something. “Not even close, Jack. You were the one who got the other newsies invested in our cause.”

“Using your words.” Jack was starting to get a little angry at David. Considering that David had probably been crying a short time before Jack made his way up there, Jack managed to hold his tongue. “Doesn't matter who was saying ‘em. That was all you.”

“It does matter, Jack. There's something about you that…” David's face colored a little, “commands people's attention.”

“You command my attention all the time.”

“Jack.” David wanted to swat at him, but just ended up smiling. “Telling you not to jump on the fire escape isn't the same as making a speech to hundreds of people. And you know me, anyway. It's different. You care what I have to say. Some of the time, at least.”

Jack knew that last part was meant to come off as a joke, but he wasn't all that amused.

“All of the time,” Jack corrected him resolutely, giving him a slap on the back. “I always care what you got to say. But that don't mean I'll always listen.”

“So you're admitting that you have selective hearing.”

“What was that?”

David glared at him, scrunching up his nose and making that exasperated face Jack loved. An easy grin spread across his own, and for the moment it seemed that David was feeling better than he was before.

Emboldened, Jack cleared his throat, careful about his words.

“So what're you askin’ me that for anyway, Dave? You think I don't like you anymore or something?”

David's face dropped, remembering his initial line of questioning. For some reason he felt embarrassed about it, now that he'd calmed down and could breathe properly again.

“It’s not you. Or anything you've done. Sometimes, it… just feels like there isn't any reason for anybody to like me, or even want to be around me. I guess I just want to know what your reason for still being here is.”

“Well I do wanna be around you, for one,” Jack said defensively, offended at the thought anybody wouldn't want to be around David and hear whatever he had to say. “And secondly, I'm still here ‘cause I like you a lot. That's how simple it is.”

David opened his mouth to object, then closed it. The answer didn't totally satisfy his curiosity, but it would do for the time being. Jack wouldn't force himself into hanging around somebody he didn't like. He could easily make friends with anybody he wanted; he had to have a reason for choosing David, of all people. He trusted Jack was telling the truth, even if he didn't elaborate as extensively as David wanted.

Suddenly David became very aware of how close they were sitting, and how warm Jack's arm was around him.

“What do you say we get outta here?” Jack said, snapping David out of whatever trance he'd slipped under.

“And go where?”

“Get something to eat. I'm starved. You ate yet?”

David shook his head. “I should get my coat. And, um, tell my parents I'm going.”

Jack eyed him curiously. “Did they say something to you?”

“What? About what?”

“I dunno. I just figured there had to be a reason you’s out here instead of in there.” Jack jabbed his thumb toward the window, starting to get up, leaving his coat where he'd left it on David.

When he was standing he extended a hand down to David, who took it and hoisted himself up as well. His legs were numb from sitting uncomfortably for so long. Now that he was up, he felt the full force of the fall weather hit him, sending a shiver down his spine.

“That is,” said Jack, “less you'd rather not say.”

“Not right now,” David murmured, shifting on his feet. Jack was still holding onto his hand. He sucked in some of the cold air, heart quivering. “Maybe over dinner.”

Jack nodded at him, his eyes lingering on David's now that they were finally face to face.

“All right, Davey.” Jack let go of him, and nudged him gently toward the window. “Go on and tell them. Grab a hat, too. It's gonna rain soon.”