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"TEXTILE WOMEN ARE ON STRIKE, FOLLOWING IN THE NEWSIES AND TROLLEY WORKER'S STEPS!" David hawked. The somewhat empty streets of New York in early morning responded with silence.
"WILL THE POPULATION BE NUDE BEFORE THE CLOTH-WORKERS END THEIR COPYCAT STRIKE?" Jack added unhelpfully. Or so Davey thought, until some older gentlemen crowded around him to buy his papers. David frowned and doubled his efforts, adding adjectives (within reason, he would not go as far as Jack), and looking for more interesting articles within the pape. Things hadn't been as competitive between other newsies since the end of the strike a few weeks ago, what with Pulitzer buying back what they couldn't sell, so David and Jack still competed against each other for no reason other than fun now.
A pretty woman David's age, clad in a pink and purple walking suit that screamed wealth, stopped them in the street, catching both their attention with a wave. "Excuse me, newsboys! Do you happen to know a… Jack Kelly? Or a David Jacobs… I'm terribly lost in these parts of the city, and I must write this article before nightfall," she tapped her pen on her notebook quickly, signaling her urgency.
The boys looked at one another, dumbfounded. Jack spoke first, "Miss, do ya happen ta know what they look like? It might help our search…"
David punched his shoulder cheaply. "Jack, c'mon. Be a gentlemen. Madam, my name is David Jacobs, and this here is my partner, the famous Jack Kelly." The man in question mouthed 'famous?' to David, who shrugged.
Stunned, the woman's jaw opened and closed. She reached into her book bag and pulled out a wrinkled newspaper, staring at it for a few seconds, then at Jack and David, then back to the pape, and again. "You- You're Jack and David? Wow! That makes things SO much easier, you two do not even understand. I mean, I thought I was going to have to look around the slums the whole day, which, I don't mind, I'm in a walking mood, but no! The first newsboys I intercept are my targets!" She spoke animatedly.
Jack took a step towards her, too close, and plastered on the merciless smile that had already awarded him the poor hearts of so many weak-willed girls. "Mus' be fate, or we's both very lucky."
The presumably strong-willed woman did not falter. "My pen name is Katherine Plumber. I would like to request an interview with you both."
"Right now?" David asked, crossing his arms. "No offense, Miss Plumber, but we have mouths to feed."
Jack nodded and took David's shoulder in his hand, walking forward, as he did when he wanted to build off of Davey's prompts. He gladly let Jack; the man was a wonder to watch. "Yeah, we's on tha job. We can't just leave, tha's stupid. Ev'ry second I don' work, I lose pay. Now why would a newsie like me hafta lose pay just cuza a rich lady like you wants to write up a cute li'l interview?"
Katherine lifted up a finger to make the boys pause. With the other hand, she dug once again through her oversized purse and triumphantly pulled out two one dollar bank notes. "This-" she pointed to the bills, "-is yours, one each, if you agree to waste your day away with this 'rich lady' at my office."
"Y'ain't gotta tell me twice, ma'am." Jack enthused, and punched David's shoulder for rolling his eyes. David watched as Jack eyed Katherine and something inside his chest ached with a familiar feeling. One step forward, two steps back.
He accustomed himself to Jack's enthusiasm and moods harder and faster than most people would have. David knew that any woman with an ounce of self-preservation would quickly grow tired of the young man's constant driveling and yanking. That was what had happened with Sarah, after all.
Katherine seemed different, livelier, worse, but David could only feel the dread of someone more than Jack, in every way. That seemed awfully like someone Jack could fall in love with, in some cruel universe. Never mind that Ms. Plumber was rich, she was interesting, and that both intrigued and alarmed David. And, by every objective standards, she didn't hurt to look at.
David did not want to feel jealous, or cruel, or judging, or any other evil emotion, but he couldn't help the way the pit in his stomach threatened its exit or the way his posture straightened or the way he itched for the day to end when it hadn't even started yet. But would he let it sour the day? No.
Just to spite his loathsome feelings, he would give the woman the best damned interview in newspaper history, he resigned after a few seconds of quiet reflection.
Katherine spun on her heel sharply. "Then follow me, boys!" She ordered and walked at such a pace that the newsies (who walked all day, every day) had to jog to keep up.
David had expected a quaint office, with a quaint typewriter, in a quaint neighborhood tucked away in a quaint corner of Manhattan.
So, he was surprised when Katherine led them further and further into the bustling heart of this part of New York. Directly to The World's headquarters.
Clearly, Jack hadn't expected it either, because he turned to Davey with a confused look on his face as soon as they passed the last street to head to the Sun, or, really, any other newspaper distributor but the one they unionized against.
Katherine continued to stride at an implausible rate, her heels clicking behind her. No matter his feelings towards the woman, David remained impressed (and out of breath). She faltered after looking back and seeing their puzzled expressions. "I'll explain. I know that you know where we're going, so I'll just say it. Yes, I… work for The World. I hope that's not a problem," she said, but she clearly meant it in a 'I don't care if it's a problem, man up and deal,' way. David understood not to argue. "You two can be mature about this unfortunate interview area. Right?"
Jack nodded before seeming to realize that Katherine was ahead of them and wasn't looking back. "Yes, miss."
"Yes, Ms. Plumber," David parroted. Jack mocked him with a fake posh face and mouthed 'Ms. Plumber,' behind Katherine's back, which almost made David crack a smile. Almost.
The brown doors that Jack had well acquainted himself with towered over them no longer. Instead, they stood dully. Unlike last time, when they loomed with malice and seemed to laugh at their vain efforts. This entrance used to mean so much more. But it changed into… simply a way into a building.
David, acting on instinct, leaned into his partner's space. "You're sure about this, Jackie?"
Jack Kelly gulped down his fears and nodded.
Katherine, cued by the boys' shared looks, pulled The World's heavy doors open. With practiced ease, David noticed.
The interior of The World was a much different environment than David remembered it. Bustling editors, journalists, advertisers, printers, people from everywhere all chattered and argued. He was in enemy territory. Anyone who glanced at him made that very clear.
The secretary, a young blonde with a tied-up bun, noticed Katherine enter and waved with a warm smile. Her smile quickly soured when she noticed the two rats following her (or at least that's what David thought she was thinking about him and Jack, based on the disgusted look on her face).
Katherine sped up, her head low. Strange. They climbed a flight of stairs, then she turned a corner. They followed like dogs on a leash. "My office! Let's get this over with. Mr. Jacobs, I will politely ask you wait on the benches out here while I conduct Mr. Kelly's interview." Katherine smiled courtly.
David took a strong step forward, trying to follow Ms. Plumber. "What? But-"
"Don't worry, we'll alternate every question or so, you won't get too bored out here." Katherine reassured. David did not feel reassured.
Jack clearly sensed it, or maybe saw it on David's obviously scowling face, and sighed. "Jus' do what she says, Davey," he ordered exasperatedly and put his hand on David's chest, right above his heart, to nudge him back.
"Sure. Yeah." David retreated to the hallway bench pitifully and sat with a huff.
Katherine and Jack entered the—rather large, larger than David expected any journalist to have—office, but not without Jack taking a glance back at Davey with a reassuring smile before disappearing behind the dark doors.
Insider Interview of the Newsboys' Strike's Leaders
What is your role within the strike?
Jack Kelly:
"Me and Davey, we's tha-"
"Not you and David. Just you."
"Yeh. I'm tha leada. I do tha speakin', raisin' tha morale. I know tha streets as well as all tha newsies. I know what brings'em togetha."
"And what do you think David's role is?"
"He's got more than half a brain, Davey. He knows what I don'. I knows what he don'. It's fair 'n all that way. Tha kid just don' got as much street smarts as me. And I don' got as much, ah, book smarts as him. Davey knows ev'rythin' about tha stars, did'ya know 'bout that? He can name ev'ry of 'em! He don' got much confidence in his bones, but when he speaks 'bout tha sky, an' tha stars an' tha sun 'an moon, he gets all excited and passionate."
"…"
"What was tha question again?"
David Jacobs:
"Well, the newsies, they call me the Walking Mouth, since I'm the- Jack would say I'm the brains behind the strike."
"And you agree?"
"Yes, Jack's right. I think up all the words and the logistics of the strike, and he says them. Beautifully. He says them so that every newsie can understand and relate, and then inspires them to take action. It's moving to see him spur a whole movement, the workers' strikes for unions, all with my words. My words! Jackie's a genius with words, he knows exactly how to manipulate the headlines to make them sound better and sell quicker, and he cares about every newsies like they were family. To him, they are. The first winter day I spent with him, he gave his hard-earned mittens to a freezing newsie, along with his scarf, and his hat, and at one point I had to stop him before he got sick or worse. He would've ended up in nothing but long johns in the killer cold of New York!"
"You describe him as caring. I assume you enjoy selling papes with Jack, but why?"
"Miss Plumber-"
"-Katherine is fine-"
"-Katherine, have you ever seen Michelangelo sculpting? Alfred Hitchcock on set? Charles Dickens with a pen in his hand? He's in his element. Jack doesn't even need me, he can think on his own, have these creative ideas that no one would've thought of. And they work. I can learn from Jack, compete with Jack, talk to Jack and be partners with Jack, and I'm always the winner in every situation, because no matter what, I'm next to him, basking in his glory that we share. Look, at first, I wasn't too sure either. Nobody's keen on Jack the first time. But, Jack's the best partner I could've asked for. I'm lucky."
Whose idea was it to sell papers together?
David Jacobs:
"Jack's. He wanted my little brother Les' face to sell more papes, a smart business move for both of us. I agreed. As if there were any other choice, with Jack."
Jack Kelly:
"Mine. I knew that me and Davey would kick it off lay-ta down tha line, an' I was right. Davey's easy to work with, to look at, he's got a nice face. Trustable, I mean. Um, he's a good… a good friend. Next question?"
"Is everything alright?"
"Can ya not put in the pape what I said bout his face?"
"Oh! of course! We can go back and delete whatever you don't want seen by the masses. I'll tell David, too."
What qualities do you admire in your partner?
Jack Kelly:
"These all 'bout Davey?"
"I'm trying to get different perspectives on the strike leaders."
"Righ'. So, Davey's qualities… tha guy's smart, I said it before. He's a funny guy, too. Looks serious, but Davey's a big goof, 'specially with tha younger newsies. I like it when I get him to… Hell, I don' know why I'm saying this. Did'ya slip somethin' in ma drink?"
"What drink?"
David Jacobs:
"I admire his blind ardor for what he believes in. Who he believes in. It could make anyone trust him, especially me. I'd follow him to the ends of the Earth and back if he had a good cause. He only wants the best for the people he loves, so much so that he'd sacrifice his morals and reputation and every friendship just to make sure they're okay. He's done it before. In his own unique way. He scabbed. For me. To keep my family and I safe. And he did it again by beating up the Delancey's. He gave up his reputation for the newsies' safety, then put that on the line to save me. We'd only known each other for a few days, can you believe that? He's a selfless type, Jack. That's why he's a good leader, not because he's good at talking, or great at inspiring, but because he gives and gives until he's got nothing left."
"Wow. I'm quite literally speechless."
What constitutes a perfect day for you?
David Jacobs:
"This is going to sound dumb…"
"Just say all that you need, and afterwards we will go back and cut passages if you aren't happy with them."
"Alright. The perfect day would start off with Les getting ready on his own without me having to scold him into brushing his teeth. Sarah would make some nice eggs for my family, give my mom a break, and-"
"Sarah?"
"My sister, she's a year older than me. She had a… a thing with Jack, sort of."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Jack was too scared to commit to her. He was too much for her in general, I think. She was scared sometimes, that he would get up and walk away one night, bored with her. Jack knew that would happen, if they married. He told me, 'Davey, I don' wanna marry ya sista, I can't.' So I don't bring Jack over often anymore."
"Oh, wow… that sounds complicated…"
"It is. It was. Anyways, so Sarah makes breakfast, and then Les and I go see Jack. And instead of saying 'Let's go carry the banna, Davey,' he says 'I've gots the money saved up to survive tha day, let's go see Medda at the theater, Davey.' So that's what we do, all three of us go see Miss Medda perform, and Les would get lost eating as much candy as his heart desires, so Jackie and I would be left alone backstage. And then…" Davey clears his throat. "So, after the show, he'd agree to eat at my house, and maybe even sleep there, too."
"Oh?"
"For, uh, for him to get a comfortable place to sleep. Les loves him, it would be for him more than anyone. My whole family loves him, so it's a win-win situation, really."
"And you?"
"What."
"Never mind."
Jack Kelly:
"Any day I get ta sleep in's a good day fo' me. I don' get to sleep in, eva, at tha lodge."
"Where would you sleep in, then?"
"Davey's place. He's got a big enough bed, and he can handle my… fiery personality."
"Davey answered something similar, something about going to the theater and you agreeing to sleep at his house."
"Wait, you's allowed ta tell me what 'e said for tha questions? Why haven't ya? What did he answa 'bout tha question 'bout qualities and admirin'?"
"You'll see it in the paper!"
"If ya ain't tellin' me then it's probably intrestin'."
If you knew that in one years time, you would die, what would you change about your life now?
Jack Kelly:
"I thought I had ta go someplace else to be happy, like, ah, Santa Fe, but I was wrong, I's happy here with Davey. An' tha newsies." Jack groans loudly, hiding his face in his hands before sighing. "If I knew I'd die… I'd be a lot more honest to a lot more people."
"Why not now?"
"I got stuffs to lose. Dying man does too, but he's losing it all anyway, so it don' matta."
"What would you say?"
"Don- don' do that. Don' ask me that. I'm helpless. You know I'll ansa, Ms. Plumma, because I trust ya too much, and you's writin' down everythin' I say, so stop me before I ansa. Please stop me."
"Let's move on."
David Jacobs:
"That's grim… I wouldn't change anything, I think. Things work as they are now."
"You don't seem convinced."
"It's not like I can do anything. I still have to take care of my family, go to school, live my life."
"What about Jack?"
"What about him?"
"You've mentioned him in all of your answers, all of them but this one. Why?"
"It's irrelevant. Can we move on?"
"Come on, David, you're telling me, you wouldn't change your behavior towards your partner at all? I call bullshit."
"What does it matter? I'm nice enough to him, and I treat him as if it was my last moment with him all the time. That's just normal, with Jack. He scared me after the strike, I mean, I really thought he was going to leave, but he didn't. Who knows if that'll stick."
"That sounds frightening."
"You learn to get used to it. One day he'll leave. I just hope whatever is tethering him to New York doesn't leave."
"Uh huh."
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Do you even hear yourself?"
"What are you… come on, Katherine."
What are the best headlines to sell?
Something peculiar happened when I asked them this question, for both answers were identical, even when interviews individually. "Headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes." Both refused to elaborate when prompted. I leave you on this note and implore you to think of the people behind the strike, especially in this time of progress and unity.
"I'll go get my editor, you two wait here and… read it over if you want."
David finished reading first and handed the draft of what would inevitably be in The World tomorrow to Jack, who was sitting next to him on a far too comfortable couch. Way too close to him. Trying to hide his reddening face (both from the writings and the proximity), he busied himself with observing the room. He noticed expensive lamps and decor that bored him half to death, and decided it would probably be a better fate to stare at the ceiling. A mistake. Katherine's draft rushed back to the forefront of his mind like a nagging child.
His heart clenched at the scrapped—yet candid—words. "Davey's easy to work with, to look at, he's got a nice face. Trustable, I mean." Even crossed out, he could discern what lay beneath the scribbles. David didn't even know Jack could make something so mundane sound so lovelorn. If he… if he were an idiot, he might think, stupidly and regretfully, that those sweet utterances meant something more than what the boys had in their current partnership. If he were naive and clung to hope.
He hastily snapped his head towards Jack. "Did you really mean all those things written down?" The words spilled from his mouth. He realized day by day how much more fitting the 'Walking Mouth' nickname was. Davey didn't care. He wanted to know if Jack meant all the praises, or if they were sweet nothings, lies, mistakes that should be redacted.
Jack's head whipped up from the pape and he feigned ignorance. The pink that dusted his face betrayed him. "What things?"
Davey raised to the challenge. He snatched the freshly-inked pages from Jack's grasp and read, "Davey's easy to work with, to look at, he's got a nice face. Trustable, I mean." His eyes perused down the page, "He's a funny guy, too." His voice lowered, along with his eyes, "Davey's place. He's got a big enough bed, and he can handle my… fiery personality." Why David's face burned while he tried embarrassing Jack, he didn't know. His eyes trailed down and zeroed in to some hastily written words. "I'm happy here with Davey."
Jack practically flinched. "Alright! I get it, Davey. You can read, congrats, you wan' a medal?" He was clearly deflecting, but David wasn't having it. Not when they were so close to an epiphany. What epiphany, David had no clue, for once. Something was missing, wrong.
David leaned closer, gaining courage from his partner's hesitation to answer. "Jack. Answer me. Did you mean it?"
Jack groaned and his voice broke as he replied lowly. "Yeah, I did." Jack stared at a spot on the dark hardwood floor like he wished it would open up and swallow the office whole. "Ev'ry stupid word."
Something about Jack's words that day knocked the air out of David's lungs. Bravely, he gulped down the lump in his throat and asked, "In what w-"
Katherine chose that inopportune moment to burst in. "Alright! Doneso, gimme the notebook, we have to get to editing," she said, stealing the paper from David's grasp. Sensing that he was about to argue, she tutted him. "Don't wanna hear it! Also, get out. We need peace and quiet, and I sense that that..." she waved a hand in the air to signal at the space between Jack and David, "Needs talking—outside, go, leave—to get resolved." She shooed them away, clearly worrying about her article, but Davey didn't mind. At least the editor was staying put outside of her office.
Both confused at the sudden exile, they wished Katherine good luck as she shoved them out, smiling all the way through the halls while threatening them. David caught a glimpse of a gray beard appear behind Katherine before she pulled the heavy doors of The World closed.
And, as one door closed, another seemed to open. Their cut-short conversation still vividly fresh in their minds, Jack and David communicated through sidelong glances. It was clear that their previous discussion couldn't be continued. Not in the entrance arch of The World, at least. Not on this cloudy day. Not ever, maybe.
The first crack of lightning made itself heard before the familiar sudden downpour could land. The weather in New York always seemed as quick to move on as the headlines, because what had started out as a sunny day had turned into a thunderstorm.
"Your place or mine?" Jack broke the silence—which wasn't really a silence, since the rain hit the ground at an impossible speed and the clouds rumbled loudly.
"More questions?" David joked. "Mine's got a warm bath," he answered, leaving Jack to infer the rest. He stuck his hand out to savor the rain on his palm. Cold and almost violent, the drops of water fell into his hand, then traveled down to his wrist, where he could feel the sharp bite of freshness.
Jack shrugged and started running. To his apartment, David assumed (or hoped, but he was 98% sure that Jack couldn't run all the way to Santa Fe).
David didn't even bother yelling after Jack to slow down. Instead, he quickly grabbed a newspaper from his bag to use as shelter, holding the paper above his head and running. Ineffective, the water soaked through every article, editorial, advertisement, and society page. He tossed the useless sopping pape. He thought he would never catch up to Jack at this rate.
Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard as he had thought. After all, with the daily practice he'd had, it took only a modicum of energy more. Huh. Apparently David had gotten faster, or—wishful thinking, a fleeting hope, nothing to fret over or worry about whatsoever—Jack had slowed down to his pace. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.
David shook his head clear from his delusions, and with them, some raindrops that clung to his face. Jack turned on the correct street with no hesitation. David felt ridiculous for feeling anything at that… it was uncharacteristically stupid of him to be thinking of Jack that way. Especially when the man in question was just a few paces ahead now, eagerly smiling back at him and running like a child towards the shelter that awaited them both. And David was not stupid.
He tried to distract himself with the rain again. He focused on the biting splashes that pelted his face mercilessly, instead of fixating on everything that related to Jack Kelly. Like, for example, Jack's callused hands, Jack's soft hair (which was currently plastered wetly to his forehead—David wanted nothing more than to push the strands away from his eyes—because of the shower, bless this deluge!), Jack nimble body, Jack's eyes, and Jack's face, and his-
The loud rainstorm officially proved itself a useless distraction. In fact, David declared it the biggest enabler of his whole crisis.
He couldn't help but recall the ink on the pages, the dried words and wet scrawls covering them unsuccessfully. In the interview, Katherine had prompted Jack, asking, "What would you say?"
And Jack hadn't even tried to lie. He had immediately fell upon begging for mercy.
"Don- don' do that. Don' ask me that. I'm helpless. You know I'll ansa, Ms. Plumma, because I trust ya too much, and you's writin' down everythin' I say, so stop me before I ansa. Please stop me."
If David didn't know any better, he'd think it was all fabricated, a wicked attempt at giving him false hope. Some evil joke. If it were, Jack would've denied it all. He would've laughed at the absurdity of being in… of liking a boy, liking David. But Jack hadn't denied anything. Jack Kelly hadn't lied. Instead, he had begged not to tell a truth, one that could potentially ravage through David's mind like a wild dog tracks mud in carelessly.
Every touch, every word, all of it held so much more weight now. Or it could, if Jack actually felt…
Why had Jack said those damned things? Why hadn't he wanted to answer one of Katherine's questions? It was a simple question. All he had to do was lie. He'd done it before. Lied. To everyone. To him.
But never about him.
David had a thousand questions racing through his mind, none of which had a sensible answer. He felt like he was missing a major puzzle piece to solve this, and his head was starting to hurt.
Luckily, Jack arrived at the bottom of the fire escape, with David just a couple steps behind.
Before Jack's right foot could even land on the first metal step, a word that summarized what David was thinking about slipped from his mouth. "Why?"
Jack took two steps up to process the information. "Why, what?" he said in sync with the rest of his saunter up the stairs. David followed quickly.
A thousand questions arose to David's mind. Katherine's job choice felt relatable. "Why… did you tell the truth?" he decided.
The answer came as an effortless mumble from a face deliberately turned away and a voice purposely lowered. The thick audial veil of the rain would've given Jack plausible deniability, if David hadn't known that the same murmuring man had projected to hundreds of newsies packed in a theater before. So it was on purpose. dammit. Jack was at the first platform and started to turn with no further comment when suddenly David reached out to grab his arm and push him against the railing.
Frustrated, David then gripped Jack's lapels and pressed his face near Jack's ear. "I can't hear what you're saying, Jackie." He spoke with forced patience. He pulled on Jack's shirt collar too hard, on purpose, like Jack had done with his quiet muttering to escape David, and he did it because it was the only thing grounding him, and because none of it made sense, because he wanted a straight answer to a mystery that itched to be solved.
"I said..." Jack leaned in further, and, in that sultry tone—the one that he should use exclusively on women, because this was seriously unfair,—uttered, "I've learned a thing or two from ya." Directly into David's ear. As clear as day, even in this depressing weather, he could make out every sound crisply. And screw him if the sound didn't send shivers down his spine. He had almost needed to hold on to Jack for support if his knees gave out. His neck could've relaxed enough to let David place a soft kiss right before where skin met fabric. He could've. But he didn't.
David hadn't expected Jack to play along. At all. They should've been laughing it off, they shouldn't have been close enough that David could feel Jack's heavy breath on the shell of his ear, and they certainly shouldn't have been waiting out in the rain for the other to move, because one of them sure to catch a cold. Reluctantly, David did the only thing he hadn't wanted to, and backed up.
Jack cleared his throat started up the stairs again in a hurry, his feet barely obeying his commands. David followed once again, but this time with a confused frown.
Only nine hundred and ninety-nine more questions burnt his throat, but unfortunately, there were only two flights of stairs before their conversation would have to end, and David would have to stop pressing Jack for answers. David took the most of it.
"Why did it sound so… so…" David searched for the right words with no success. He gulped.
Jack seemed lost in his own world. He skipped steps as he climbed, and David stumbled to keep up.
"Jack!" he yelled, but the boy didn't acknowledge him until he reached the last platform before David's door. One flight left to go, David was running out of time to ask. "Jack!" he repeated. The boy finally turned around to face him. He couldn't quite meet David's eyes. "Wait. Why did you sound so desperate if…" David panted, and his poor head was spinning from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. "Look, if was a reader, and I read the complete unedited article, I might get the wrong impression, or at least an impression that I don't think you were trying to get across. Do you get what I'm trying to say?" David babbled.
Jack nodded once, slowly, still fixating anywhere but David. The staircase. The rain clouds. The warm light that exited from David's inviting home, up above them both.
"So why? Why did you make it sound like… like that?" So loving, he had wanted to say, but the words died in his heart, slain by cowardice.
Their gazes met. Almost pleading, he stared at David. Jack's mouth opened and closed again, silent. There was a first time for everything, David thought, but he loved Jack just the way he was, that was to say, loud and talkative and never, ever quiet about something if it wasn't fair or bothered him. Jack ate up the spotlight for him, and David appreciated every second of it. Knowing Jack knew him. Knowing he knew Jack as well.
Jack groaned, his fists clenched in front of his mouth with despair. He leaned closer to David. Jack's mug, scrunched up, faced David, holding his gaze intensely. Fiercely. David resisted escape, but to look away would be to admit that this was embarrassing for David, that he didn't want this, and God knows he's wanted Jack more than anything in the world, so he could handle a few seconds of eye contact. Jack's eyes bore into his own, eyebrows knit together high on his face. David was used to these theatrics, these grand moments that would end with long monologues and big laughs, but he wasn't used to this. Jack silent. Jack begging for David to understand him through his eyes, like he was waiting for something, waiting for David to say a specific phrase, but Davey couldn't figure it out. Jack miserable.
"Please, Davey," the hoarse sound of Jack's unused voice broke through the crackles of thunder.
A bolt of lightening struck, illuminating the sky for a split second, and David could finally see all of Jack's face properly; his damp hair, his lips whitened from the cold, his glistening cheekbones, his parted mouth, his teary eyelashes (or were they clumped from the rain?). In that split second he saw the truth. In that split second he saw what he'd been missing.
It had been so simple.
It was David's words he wanted. Jack needed something clear and concise that he could bend and shape and turn whichever way he liked. He needed the truth to be able to improve it.
He decided to learn something from Jack and be reckless, so he exhaled. "You're in love with me." It was muttered like a whisper, and would surely get lost beneath the heavy rain and thunder. Nevertheless, David completely trusted that Jack, who was staring at his lips rather intently, and who wore a rather hungry look in his eyes, could read his lips as well. Jack's eyes widened. The raindrops hung still in the air. The truth, as it turned out, was inherently vulnerable to be said, and here it was, laid out right in front of them. Yet, it remained the truth.
The newfound understanding that Jack was in love with him didn't necessarily hit David as much as it, like a caring hand, caressed his face. He'd known this fact for longer than he cared to categorize. A lot longer. He had felt too frightened by it to name it. To name the feeling would have made it exist, made it appear into the world and into his mind, would have made David's mind wander far more often than it already did; for Jack Kelly to love him back would have been one very reality-changing experience. It was.
Jack smiled, finally able to say the words that had run away from his tongue, had David not caught them. Over the rain, he had to shout to be heard. "Yes! I am in love with you! I mean it all, Davey, ev'ry damned word, not jus' half, never less than you deserve! All of it! I'm glad when you smile at me even when I's made a bad joke! I'm fulla joy when ya say my name! Oh Davey, you could whispa my name on the otha side of the Eart' and I would hear ya! You could scream it from the sky and I'd manage ta fly!" Now that was the Jack that Davey knew and... and loved. To think the words was freeing. They laughed together and Jack stepped into David's personal space before speaking, "Davey, I ain't never met nobody like you. I don' wanna meet no one else. An' I'd bet that…" he let the suspense of it build, as if he was messing with David on purpose.
David, breathless, took the bait. "That?"
"You're in love with me too." Jack poked his index finger hard into David's chest as he spoke. The gesture nudged him backwards. David backed up a bit too far. The wet metal was far too slippery for him to get any real grip, and he slipped. His heel caught on the lowest step of the next flight of stairs, and he gasped sharply, bracing for a rough landing with his arms thrown behind him hastily.
Jack grabbed David's tie and yanked him forward into him, and they crashed into each other. Somewhere along the way they had flipped, David was the one whose back faced the railing. Jack had thankfully held on to the railing behind David.
Face to face again, with all their cards on the table, it felt like a completely new situation. It wasn't just Jack Kelly and David Jacobs, leaders of the Newsies' Strike, whose faces were far too close because they were friends, or because it was much too loud around them to be heard, or because it was a mistake.
This was Jack and Davey whose faces were near—but not quite near enough—because they loved each other.
David's mouth opened to be able to breathe his confirmation. "Yeah. Yes, I am."
Jack stared somewhere below David's nose while he spoke, and licked his lips. His hands rose to cradle David's face, cold and drenched. A strained sound exited his throat. This clearly wasn't easy for him. "David…" his voice shook unsurely while saying his real name, and that was all it took for David to snap.
He crashed his face into Jack's, his hands on the small of the other's back, pulling him in. Their mouths missed each other in a messy display, the rain unhelpful in the whole affair. Jack's hands took a fragment of power back to aim softer. What a difference that made. David had never kissed someone before, but he was certain that their desperate kiss in the fortunate New York weather was perfect and exactly what a kiss should feel like, no matter what the circumstances were.
There was rain. Downpour meant that there would be no one out on the street. Privacy meant that, delicate and pliant and careful, there were Jack's lips on his own.
And to the pair of newsboys enlaced with one another, it meant that there was nothing but that moment of truth.