rendezvous and roses

when the evening shadows and the stars appear

Jack walked up the familiar metal staircase, stopping to check for Race at every platform. He made his way to the roof and heard soft piano music and gentle pitter-patter of feet. Jack grabbed the rungs and pulled himself the rest of the way onto the roof, swinging his legs over the siding. Race spun around and beamed at him.
"You made it!"
Jack ambled over to him, smiling.
"Y'know I wouldn't miss it for the world." Jack rested his arms on Racetrack's waist and started gently swaying to the melodic tune. The blond leaned into his boyfriend and slung his arms around his shoulders.
"You look handsome," Race murmured into the crook of Jack's shoulder and neck. He chuckled and rested his chin on Race's head.
Race began to hum along to the music, and Jack pulled back to spin him around.
"Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose, il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause." he started to sing.
"I didn't know you knew French, 'Tonio!" Jack exclaimed.
"Well, French Two with Madame Clinard wasn't completely useless," The taller boy joked.
"What does it mean?"
"He tells me words of love, words of every day, and in them I become something. He has entered my heart, a part of happiness whereof I understand the reason." Race met Jack's eyes and blushed a fair pink.
"Those words are real pretty, querido. Nearly as pretty as you."
Race hit Jack gently with his hand, laughing.
"You're such a dork."
"Well, who fell in love with the dork?" Jack countered. Race shrugged his shoulders and guided Jack over to sit on the railing.

The night sky of Manhattan was a favorite sight of the newsies, and this view could hardly be beaten. The stars illuminated the cityscape a deep indigo, and cerulean night clouds drifted across lazily, dimming and brightening stars as they moved. The moon was as bright and yellow as a stick of butter, or as Jack always liked to say, Race's hair. Race would simply blush more than usual and say that Jack's freckles reminded him of the constellations on a clear night sky. A couple of regular poets, the other newsies liked to say.

"How did you get Crutchie outta here, anyway? This is his favorite spot," Jack turned to Race.
"Only thing he loves more than sitting up here is Finch."
"Clever, aren'tcha." Jack shouldered Race softly.

Race and Jack gazed together at the busy city before them, warm fingers leisurely wrapped in each other. Jack's thumb was idly tracing circles in Race's palm as his head returned to his favorite spot on Jack's body, the place between his wide shoulders and freckly neck.
"You ever paint the sky, Jack?" Race asked.
"Sure I have, but they're not my favorite pieces I've done," Jack answered, still entranced by the vision of New York City.
"Mm?" He prompted.
"I like these ones the best," Jack slid off the railing to rifle through a stack of books in a corner. Quickly flipping through them, he picked up a blue one in and dusted off the cover while walking back over. Jack passed the sketchbook to Race and watched his face while Race turned the pages.
"Jack-, these are beautiful." Inside the sketchbook were drawings of Race, sometimes with a teasing smirk, some with a cigar between smiling lips, and some with a pensive look on his face. Every drawing was carefully sketched and detailed, as if he had memorized every little aspect.
"When did you draw these?" he asked, tracing a small figure of a running Race with one finger.
"Oh, y'know. Jacobi's, Sheepshead, inside the house, whenever, really," Jack responded, scratching the back of his head with the hand that wasn't clasped with Race's.
Race finally looked back up at his boyfriend.
"You're the most talented artist I know, Jack. Oh, stop denying it, you know I'm right! I can't wait 'til your paintings are in the Met!" Race praised Jack earnestly. "And I wanna be there when they introduce you to all the other famous artists, holding your hand. I wanna be right by you through all the happiest moments of your life."
"Then be there." Jack was beaming from ear to ear, and leaned in, almost touching Race's nose. "Can I kiss you?"

Race nodded, and reached up for Jack. He smiled against Jack's lips, easily melting into the warmth from both the kiss and the summer night. Jack's hands ran through the other boy's blond hair, and the latter's arms slid to Jack's waist. He pulled Race closer to him and deepened the kiss, and he couldn't think about anything else besides the way Race's lips fit so well against his own. Race sighed into Jack's mouth, and he took the opportunity to pull away, foreheads still touching.
"I love you, Antonio." Jack said, lips still tingling from the remaining feelings of the kiss.
"Love you too," Race traced a thumb over Jack's cheekbone before pulling him back in for another kiss.

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