3 Words 8 Letters- A Spot Conlon Fanfiction

~Chapter Twenty Five~

~Two Hours Later~
~Scratch's POV~

"Spot, help me up here will you?" I called out to him.
All the Newsies were scattered around the factory, patching up and fixing what they could. I was bolting boards of wood to broken windows so no snow could fly in this dreaded place. "Coming.." He groaned loudly.
He walks up to me and I see him smirk in the corner of my eye. He crosses his arms and just stares at me with an amused expression printed on his face.
"Spot." I grumble. I was trying to hold the board in place, along with a few nails and a large rock as the hammer.
"Yes?" He replies, the smirk on his face growing bigger. I grunt quietly and roll my eyes.
"Help? Please?"
He doesn't respond but just keeps on doing what he's doing.
"Spot!" I whine. "Fine." He blurts, laughing lightly.
He grabs the rock from my hand and I give him a confused look.
"I'll hammer the nails down, you hold the board." He says. I roll my eyes. "Okay."
He holds the nail in place about to hit the rock on it.
"Um, Spot. If you hold it like that, youse gonna hit yer finger." I say.
He scoffs. "Oh please. The King Of Brooklyn does not hit his finger."
"Fine then. . ."
He smashes the rock onto the nail. His eyes grow wide and he freezes, a small whimper leaving his mouth. I drop all the nails and laugh hysterically. "I TOLD YOU!!"
He jumps up and down with his eyes shut tightly as he held onto his pointer finger like his life depended on it.
My laughter grows even more and he stops jumping. He shoots one eye open and glares at me. "Shit!" He whisper yells in pain.
"Yea, the King Of Brooklyn doesn't hit his finger." I mock him in a low voice.
"I'm supposed to be mad at you." He grumbles, still holding his finger.
"Oh?" I say sarcastically.
"You jinxed it." He blames.
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."

"SHUDDUP!!" We hear Race yell.
"I'm gonna call you Jinx." Spot says.
I immediately raise an eyebrow at him and he laughs lightly. "I'm joking."
A smile grows on my face and my knees shake slightly. What is this guy doing to me..

~Couple Hours Later~

Central Park was blanketed with a thin layer of snow and I let the cold air flush my cheeks
and make my hands numb. I wasn't shivering like anybody else would. I love cold weather.
I barely even come to Central Park; but when I do, I only come to think. Alone.
Even though I felt a part of me was missing, I still stood right beneath a giant oak tree, clumps of snow daring to fall on me from atop of a large branch.
I breathed through my nose even though it stung, and my hands stayed by my sides, even though I had the option to keep them snug in my pockets.

"Who did it. . ." I keep mumbling over and over and over again. I seemed happy a few hours ago, but now I'm mad. Furious. I'm just not showing it on the outside as much as I am on the inside. Who did it. Who destroyed everything? Who ruined our homes? Who killed Kloppman?
Maybe it was a borough trying to start a borough war? No. . . Everything is ruined. Every single damn borough is crushed. My breaths grew heavier and shakier. I slowly clenched my fists. I unwinded them and let my expression soften as that thing came back to me. The thing that didn't allow me to sleep. The thing that Spot got so worried over and me to feel so small and worthless. That thing, that nightmare.
Tears slowly blurred my vision as I recalled it so vividly. It clouded my mind like a thunder storm and I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. My legs cackled, and I was about to collapse to the ground.
But something supported me. I felt arms snake around my waist from behind me and someone's face nuzzle into the crook of my neck, and I tightly shut my eyes, letting a few tears roll down my face.
"Why are you crying love?" Spot asked so sympathetically and softly, it hurt. I didn't respond, but just lay my head on top of his. He slips his head out of my neck and walks in front of me. He takes his hand and wipes the tears off my face with his thumb.
"Why are you crying?" He asks again in a whisper. My heart ached at the way he spoke. Once again, I didn't respond, but slowly shook my head while maintaining eye contact with him. His face flashes with realization.
He immediately pulls me closer to him and I dig my face into his chest, letting a few more tears escape my pained eyes. He ran his fingers through my hair over and over again.

"Please don't leave me, Spot. . ." Was all I managed to choke out of my sore throat.

☠️🗝☠️🗝☠️🗝☠️🗝☠️🗝☠️🗝☠️🗝☠️
HEYYYYYY EVERYONE
Tbh I don't know how I feel about this chapter cuz like I should've added something more er um something..
XOXO❤️❤️