Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Changes-Finch-centered, Fenry

How about some angsty fluff? How does that sound?

Great, right?

So, warning. This chapter discusses divorce/separation between parents.

Also, pájito means "baby bird", and isn't going to show up on Translate.

Enjoy!

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He couldn't believe it. They'd heard it with their own two ears and he couldn't believe it.

"What?" He knew there were issues, they knew that the screaming matches wouldn't stop after bedtime, and he knew the threats his mother made in Spanish wouldn't just go away, but he couldn't believe it. He didn't want to.

"Your father and I thought it was best I would tell you", his mother sighed, and that made them angrier. The bastard couldn't even be bothered to tell me himself. "I'm so sorry, pájito. I know this is hard on you."

"You're...you're getting a divorce?" Finch looked into his mother's eyes, tears brimming their eyes as their mother sighed.

"Not yet", she mumbled, looking away. Finch felt like crying. "But this is what's best for us. I cannot let him talk to you like that anymore. Or me."

Finch was aware his dad wasn't exactly the father of the year, not necessarily deserving of a medal or trophy. They remembered the countless nights of hearing him misgender them, the days they barely went without speaking, the dinners their family had by themselves because they couldn't bother to eat together as a family. They remembered that.

But Martín Cortes was still his father. "Pat."

"I, I gotta go", Finch mumbled, getting out of his seat and grabbing his key to their apartment. He had to get out. Fast.

Finch knew where he was going. It seemed like the only place available to them at this point, since everything else in his life is falling apart. The only place they knew they were guaranteed love, no matter what.

Finch sniffled as he held in his tears. The walk to Henry's place, while short, was still quite a walk with many people passing him on the street, and Finch didn't want to become one of the many people the average New Yorker had to learn to ignore. As a matter of fact, he'd rather die than cry in front of these strangers.

But Henry wasn't a stranger; far from it. That's why Finch knocked on the apartment door three times, waiting until their boyfriend swung the door open at the sound of his mother screaming, "Henri! Ouvre la porte, s'il vous plaît?" Finch held in his sob.

"Hey, Finny. You okay?" He broke down.

Tear after tear slid down his face from frustration, and Henry was quick to wrap his arms around them, whispering sweet things in his ear to help calm them down. He brought his crying boyfriend into his home, kicking the door closed behind him just as his mother walked into the room. "Patrick? Henri, qu'est ce qu'il-"

"Ça va, mama", Henry whispered, hoping his mother would get the hint. She was a bit of a nosy woman, but he knew she would understand. "I'm going to take them up to my room, okay?"

Ms. Butler nodded mutely and stood aside, knowing this was a moment for her son to handle. And thankful, Henry took Finch to his room, sitting the crying, but quiet, boy on his bed.

Finch didn't want to say a thing. He felt like he was keeping in a dirty secret, one that shouldn't be uttered from the lips of anyone. They ignored Henry's soft thumbs wiping the tears away, more waking their way down his face. It didn't matter because reality was set, and this was happening. "Oh, Finny. Qu'est-ce que le monde t'a fait?"