"Ranch! Blade! Tipsy! Ropes! Get ovah here ya lazy bums!" Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, commanded.
All four Newsies ran straight to where Spot was waiting for them and gave him their full attention.
"Blade, go to Manhattan and get Racetrack up here will you!?"
"Yes sir"
"Ranch and Ropes, go and collect the 'present' Spike has in Queens"
"Yes sir" they replied in unison
" now Tipsy? You're staying with me- Ace is ill and Dodge needs a guard partner so you'll be at that post"
Tipsy's Face lit up- getting to replace ACE!? If only for a day replacing Brooklyn's second in command was an honour only few were granted, usually Slingshot or Hunter got the job.
Besides the general bustle of the Brooklyn Newsies, it had been a pretty quiet day for Spot, allowing him time to think.
Summer was in full swing: the burning, golden sun shining at its full potential; the heat draining the energy of the newsboys; money from the abundance of people pouring in by the pocketful, even with half hearted selling; flowers of all hues bloomed brightly in the shop fronts. Vibrant oranges and fiery reds, passionate violets and cool blues, pale pinks and fresh golds.
The was the unmistakeable tap of shoes on the bridge. A tap that only one person's walking pattern could make. Racetrack Higgins.
Spot looked up from his perch to see Race walking towards him, frightened, with Blade glaring at him.
"Blade! Leave Racer alone!" He commanded, immediately ending Race's torment.
"Yessir"
Blade left the two boys alone, although Spot immediately took off, beckoning for Race to follow him. They got to an abandoned warehouse, not used in many a year. Dust littered the place, rubbish lay here and there, rats ran freely, empty crates strewn around the room with packing straw surrounding them. It was a tip, but it was private and just what Spot wanted. He sat down on a makeshift bed and Race sat beside him.
"I... I don' even know how ta start this" Spot began hesitantly
"Start what? Did I do some'in' wrong!? Is youse kicking' me outta Brooklyn?" Panic and alarm raised in Race's voice
"What?! No! NO!" Spot quickly stopped Race's anxious freak out "it's nothin' like dat..... pretty much da opposite actually" he laughed quietly to himself.
"Well, wha' is it then?" Race was now intrigued. Spot never laughed?
There was a heavy sigh
"Look Higgins, I don' do well wit' emotions okay? I don' FEEL da same way others do. Ise don' care about other people and that's how Ise like to keep it. Ise ain't ever felt for nobody before. Race..... I REALLY like ya, I've nevah felt like dis about anyone an' honestly? It scares me! Yeah, Youse heard, Spot Conlon da high'n mighty King 'a Brooklyn's scared 'a askin' a guy out because he don' want 'is heart broken by da one person he actually cares about"
Spots accent got thicker as he let emotion slip into his voice. Race saw tears in spot's eyes. Real, actual tears. Tears of fear, at the thought of rejection, tears of hope, at the thought of love, tears of anger, for letting his emotions show.
"Spot.... I" Race was at a loss for words.
He worshipped the ground Spot walked on. His dirty blond hair and steely blue eyes made him look like an angel to Race. His slightly tanned skin and freckles across his nose made him adorable and Race memorised every single one. His athletic figure made Race weak at the knees when he saw it and his voice, oh god his perfectly pitched voice was like a song Race could listen to all day. In Race's eyes, Spot was perfect. And here Spot was, asking him out.
Race did the only thing he could think of doing, looking Spot straight in the eyes, closing his eyes and leaning in before kissing him. To his surprise, Spot kissed back, holding Race's cheek in one hand and the other on his hip.
Neither Boy wanted the perfect moment to end, but sadly the need for oxygen called and the two parted, lovingly staring into each others eyes. Race getting lost in the raging blue storm of Spot's eyes, Spot admiring the silky chocolate colour of Race's.
Both happy
Both scared
Both unsure
Both in love
