I woke up, pain shooting through my leg. I sat up, but was immediately pulled back down. "What'd I say bout moving?" Spot's voice mumbled sleepily mumbled in my ear, his hot breath on my neck. I turned bright red. "Try to move and you'll sic a Delancey on me." I mumbled. "Exactly."
Eventually Spot had to start selling papes. I was put under orders that I was not allowed to move from the bed under no circumstances. I grumbled, my arms crossed.
"See ya later." Spot left.
The day was pretty much uneventful except for being fed by another Brooklyn newsie by the name of Patches
When spot finally came home, after what felt like hours, he carried me to the bathroom. "I need ta change youse bandages." I groaned and let him, and after that he carried me home.
After what seemed like years, I was finally able to walk. I insisted that I could sell papes again, but someone wouldn't let me.
"What if you get hurt again? I can't afford more hospital visits!" Spot told me. "Youse not listening to me! I can walk!" "Yeah, you can." "So you'll let me sell?" "No. You're not ready." "Ugh! Youse so difficult!" I threw my hands up in the air and stormed back to my bedroom.
The worst part of it was having to share a room with him. I told him over and over that I was fine sleeping by myself but Spot said, and to quote him directly, "I need to make sure youse don't hurt youself in the night."
There was nothing, I repeat, nothing to do. I hated it.
YOU ARE READING
The King of Brooklyn and His Prince
Hayran KurguSpot Conlon (aka) King of Brooklyn is best friends with Racetrack Higgins who lives in Manhattan. But Spot, who has a soft spot for Race always lets him sell with him. But things get... interesting when Spot finds out he's gay. For Race.
