The King Of Brooklyn (Sprace)

Chapter 7- ?̵̧̳̹͚̞̲̱̭̖̤̐̌̔?̶̡̲́̾̒͌̾̑̂?̵̒ͅ

Dear Reader,

It's me, Blink! I just want to say that I'm so sorry for whatever is happening here. This isn't what was supposed to happen! I don't understand where it all went wrong. What makes this timeline so different from the one it's supposed to be? Jack was supposed to 'get the girl' or whatever. Davey was never part of the original plan. Nor was Race being gone. I'm so sorry, I just wanted this to be normal. If I can't control this, there's nothing in my life I have control over. I think you all know what the original 'plan' was. Crutchie being dragged off to the refuge, Jack being blamed when he was blackmailed by Pulitzer, Katherine saving him and them falling in love. Blah blah blah. Jack and Katherine love each other, and I'm... all... alone... But pay me no mind. I'm just a side character. Not even that. I'm just an ensemble member. Unimportant. That's me. Unimportant. Anyways, you don't need to worry about the changes. I'll find some way to fix them. Then we can go on with the story. So please, disregard any strange, out-of-the ordinary things that don't fit, y'know things that aren't in the original plan. Don't worry about it, I'm going to fix this. I'll find Race and get the story back on track. No more Davey and Jack.

Much Love, Blinky

~Race~

I wake up in an uncomfortable cot, in an unfamiliar room. I try to sit up, only to be greeted by sharp pains from the bruises on my sides. Where am I?

"Yous up," I hear a strangely familiar voice say, in a matter-of-fact tone. Oh really? I think. Want to list any other obvious facts? I look over to see the one, the only, Spot Conlon standing next to me.

"I'm sorry... How did I get here?" I ask, bewildered "I remembers goin ta walk back to the lodging house then..." I trail off. I don't remember anything.

"Yous fainted, I brought you back here," He says gesturing at the room with his buff arms.

"Where is here?" I say, copying his gesture, to be yet again greeted with pains in my arms and nose.

"The lodgin' house in Brooklyn." I ponder that for a moment, before realizing something.

"But waits, didn't I cross the bridge back ta Manhattan?"

"I don't understand."

"I was in Manhattan when I fainted?"

Silence.

"...Maybe," He mutters.

"Why were ya in Manhattan Spot?" He doesn't respond for a while.

"Yous was pretty hurt."

"So you were followin me?"

"Yeah." Well, at least he's admitting it now.

"Why?" At that, Spot suddenly screams, angry at me

"I already told you! Yous was hurt! I don't want a fella newsies ta... be hurt cause a' one of my boys..." He seems to calm down by the end of that, sitting gently by my legs on the bed.

"Spot..." I reach out to touch his arm gently, but he flinches away from me. Suddenly, one of his newsies bursts into the room and he stands up quickly.

"Spot I couldn't stop him!" He shouts. I'm confused for a moment, until...

"RACETRACK HIGGINS!" Blink rushes into the room, screaming my name. I practically jump. "WES ARE GOING BACK TA MANHATTAN NOW." Spot walks toward Blink, looking at the taller boy with an eyepatch without fear.

"He can't go back yet, he's hurt."

"That doesn't matter! He shouldn't be here!"

"And why not?"

"T... I can't explain why!"

"Well then. He's going to stay here." Spot glared at Blink so much, I thought he might punch him.

"He can't! That's not what he's supposed to do!"

"I said he can." They stare at each other for a few lengthy minutes before blink sighs, aggravated, then leaves, followed by Spot's newsie.

"What was that about?" I ask Spot quietly. He bites his lip, staring at the door as if Blink will come back into the room.

"I'm not sure."

"Can I go home soon?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want yous walkin all da ways back ta 'Hattan till yous is strong enough."

"Why do you care so much about what happens to me?" I ask. Spot doesn't reply, but his face reddens ever so slightly, so slightly that I thought I might have imagined it.

"I have to go selling. I'll come back at the end of the day." Then, he left, closing the door softly behind him. What on earth just happened? I sure hope everyone in Manhattan is ok.

~2 hours later~

I've been waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting... I just want Spot to come back. I shift uncomfortably in the bed, the bruises aching painfully. I want to go home, to tell everyone that I'm ok, but I'm not one to disobey the King. He'll come back, I tell myself. I'll get to go back to Manhattan soon. I stare at the wall. Why was Spot acting so weird? It seems unlike the King of Brooklyn to show pity on someone. Me especially. I wonder why. Has the great King fallen head-over-heels in love with me? I joke, laughing softly at my own joke. No, that would be impossible. Impossible...