Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Runaway: Part One-Jack, Medda

I gotta get out of here.

"Sullivan!" Jack shot out of bed, but not quick enough for Snyder to practically break his door off of its hinges as he burst into the room. He grabbed Jack out of bed and held him by his collar. "We had a talk about this yesterday, boy!"

His breath smelt of nastiness, and Jack couldn't really tell what he ate. Tuna? Green beans? Cabbage? Whatever it was, it smelt horrible, but Jack had enough sense to not react.

"When I ask you to do something, you do it", Snyder snarled, like a snake hisses when it's about to eat its prey. Jack gulped, feeling his heart rate pick up. "And you do it without question. Do you understand me?"

Jack did, he understood very well. But one does wonder often how they get into situations. Jack just guessed he was stupid. "While you sit on your ass?"

"Excuse me?!"

Jack screwed up; he knew he did. Usually, he could keep his mouth shut. He wouldn't utter any other word but, "Yes." Something about today set him off. "You heard me."

"Well, hear this, Wheezy", Snyder says darkly, holding Jack's collar tighter, the material choking him and cutting off his airways. "The next time you decide to grow a pair, be ready to see your teeth against the floor. Got it?"

Jack nodded, not really being able to say much else, and coughed painfully as Snyder dropped him to the floor, leaving room as if no problems had occurred. However, there was a huge one.

Jack wondered, How many minutes does it take one to not breathe before they pass out? He grabbed his throat in attempt to sooth the pain, but his tongue still stuck out as he coughed, as if he was still being choked. It felt like he was.

What was wrong with him? What kid can't even breath right? One of the most basic human things and he can barely do it. It's like he's sick, or something.

Jack gasped and tried to take in as much air as he could, his nose being no help at all. How is it that when he doesn't want to smell something, there it is, but when he wants to breath, it decides not to show up?

Jack lay on his back, still trying to breath. It became more and more difficult as the minutes passed, leaving him to close his eyes.

——————

He was fine, by the way.

Jack woke up a few hours later, much after Snyder left. Oscar and Morris never, thankfully, stayed at their uncle's friends house last night, which left no room for further torment. Plus, Jack didn't go to school.

He walked around town with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his backpack on his shoulders. His music blasted through his headphones as he walked, deciding today was a day to ignore the world. Most days are days to ignore the world.

He needed a plan, one that could get him away from Snyder. At the moment, the old man's being paid to have him there— much to his pleasure— and using the money to buy fancy and expensive clothes, giving the scraps to Jack to buy shoes.

Jack looked down at his scuffed Vans. You're all I need.

He sighed and took another deep breath, wheezing the air into his lungs. Today, it was harder to breath than usual. It was definitely harder with bodies constantly moving down the street. New York was very polluted in every way.

Jack saw a coffee shop and stopped walking, looking at the window. It was cute and quaint, the complete opposite of his vibe. But he liked it. A lot.

He walked in and walked up to the counter, seeing a boy smile at him. "Hi, I'm Davey. How can I help you?"

The boy was cute, really cute. He had berry blue eyes that complimented his curly brown hair perfectly. His smile was bright and welcoming, and Jack sort of smiled, too.

"Can I get a", Jack took a deep breath, wheezing, "cup of water? Thanks."

Davey nodded and grabbed a cup, taking a pitcher of cold water and pouring some of its contents into the plastic container. "Here you are."

"Thanks." Jack walked away and sat down in a chair that faced the window, giving him a view of all the people that passed by.

Jack would consider himself an old soul. He liked old movies, older music, staring out of windows; he was practically an old man. But something new entered his brain.

Run away. From what? There was the obvious, then the not so obvious. What is he running from exactly? He needed to answer that.

He took a sip of water and breathed in some air. It ain't a half bad idea.

It wasn't. He didn't know how far he'd go, where he'd stop. Maybe he could go to Santa Fe, see it once and for all. He knows it's not exactly how it was in the old movies, but it's got to better than here. It has to be.

So, he has the title. But what are the details? When exactly he going to do this? Should he tell Spot? Would he come with him? He's not exactly in the best living situation either.

Is he being stupid?

Jack took another sip of water, staring at the table. There's so many factors, yet he couldn't care less. He found himself not caring at all.

He'd be free, like Mom wanted. He could enjoy life.

So, he'll grab what he can and hide out at the Rec until he can find a way to get out of the city without taking a bus or taxi. He'd have to sneak out of Snyder's place and move quickly. He smiled at the thought.

He was finally going to get away, finally going to have his own way of life. Finally, he could live.

He could have space and fresh air, and he didn't care for anyone who told him he was crazy.