The Wonderful Queer Story of Racetrack Higgins

Heartfelt

Yeah, I kinda ended on a cliffhanger there. Well, now you no longer have to wait to see what happens!

Enjoy! :)

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Warning: dysphoria, internalized transphobia, and unsafe binding

(A/N: not gonna lie, I got a little emotional writing this)

Race is currently sitting in a chair in the bathroom of the newsies' lodge with his shirt off, trying to keep his face neutral. Jack is taking the time to unwrap all of the bandages (whose amount have been increasing each day) that Race wrapped around his wretched chest. Race sits silently through it. No other newsie is here; just them. 

That makes it better that no one is here; it spares Race a lot of shame and embarrassment. But it's also bad; he has no escape from Jack.

"I can't believe you did this, Race," Jack scolds him, disappointed, taking all of his anger out through words as his fingers move soft and gently. "You could have hurt yourself badly, you know that, right? As in, real bad."

Race continues to say nothing.

Some of the skin that's now exposed is red, some rubbed a little raw. Race is never going to hear the end of this, nor is he going to feel the end of this soon.

Jack's unwrapping the layers fast. "I thought I warned you against this." As he unwraps another layer, his fingers are just that much closer to the chest that Race hates with all his might. Race would only let Jack get this close to him. He doesn't trust anyone else to get this close to him. Jack continues, quickly, gently, methodically.

This is how it's supposed to be, right? Race thinks dryly. Two girls in the bathroom, helping each other with how they look. One sitting in a chair, getting all dolled up, the other doing her hair and such.

He winces out loud a little.

Stop it.

The Bad Voice continues. Because that's all you'll ever be. A girl wanting to present herself to the world and just trying to get by without causing unwanted attention.

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

Except the difference between you and those girls is that you ARE doing this for attention. This whole act is to make yourself different from everyone, trying to pretend you're special.

Race closes his eyes. A single tear escapes. Don't listen to that voice. Don't listen to it. If he repeats that enough, maybe it'll happen. With his hands clasped together, sitting as still as possible, he does nothing to stop the tear as it runs down his face. It hits Jack's finger as he's taking off the last layer.

Jack stops. "Aw, Race."

Jack goes from standing behind Race to being in front of him, then kneels down in front of him, eyes full of sadness and empathy.

"I hate this, Jack," Race's voice cracks from emotion. "I hate it all."

I know, Race, is what Jack wants to say. He bites his lip. He takes off the last of the bandages from Race's body. "Come here."

Race doesn't need to be told twice.

He welcomingly falls into Jack's embrace and sinks down to the floor with him.

They sit there in silence, not needing to say anything at all; just to give comfort and be comforted.

Then Race's breathing hitches. Not the kind that comes from binding too tightly; the kind that comes from the first cry before the heavy sobbing follows.