All is fair in Love and Strikes (Sprace)

Chapter 12 I Spot

A/N: Haha. I'm increasing the suspense 😈

"Sen' da boys ta bed Thunda'," I instructed. The young, eleven year old Brooklyn messenger nodded, and quickly ran off to fulfill his orders. I walked out on the wooden dock. The sun was now setting as magnificent shades of red, orange, pink, yellow, and purple took over the once bright blue sky. The East River glittered like diamonds as it flowed under the Brooklyn bridge. Manhattan sat majestically under the setting sun, the World building towering over the common structures of the city.

Manhattan. Manhattan was where Race was. I couldn't stand the fact that he was so far away. I wanted to hold him. Hold him so close that the neither of us were ever cold again. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to be able to call him mine. Mine.

I climbed up the old, splintering crates that allowed me entrance into my tower. I leaned on a wooden post, toying around with my pimp cane, and looked back over the glittering water. I imagined what it would be like to have Race in my arms, watching the beautiful setting sun together. Being together. All the other newsies wanted girls. I couldn't speak for Manhattan, Queens, Harlem, Midtown, and all the others. But I could definitely speak for Brooklyn, and all of the other Brooklyners were heterosexual. They wanted girls. But not me. I wanted myself a boy. A boy with curly, messy black hair. A boy with crooked teeth and a smile that could make your heart melt. A boy who gambled all his money away at Sheepshead races and was never seen without his cigar. A boy named Racetrack Higgins.

I closed my eyes and began to silently weep. What was the point. Race would never love me. I was the cold, heartless, ruthless King of Brooklyn. And if my boys found out that I was gay? Well then Lord friggin help me.

I picked up a small, sharp piece of wood and let it glide over the soft skin on my inner forearm. I did it again, and again. I drew away when my arm was sufficiently bleeding. I felt my anger build up and I chucked the wood fragment into the river. Why, why me? I thought. Why is my life so hard?

My exhaustion from the day finally caught up to me and I curled up on the elevated portion of the dock that was mine and mine alone. No one was allowed in the King of Brooklyn's tower. I silently wept and fell into a pained slumber.

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I was on the roof of the Manhattan Newsboy Lodge. Race was there too, writing something in what looked to be some sort of journal. As he neared the end, I could see the tension building up in him. He got up and stood at the edge. "Race?" I asked, worried. It was like he couldn't hear me. That or he was ignoring me, which hurt even more to think about. He stood there for a minute and turned his head, looking right at me. Looking right through me. His chocolate eyes were filled with emotion. Pain, fear. "Race?" I repeated. But it was no use. He couldn't hear me. He couldn't see me. He looked down at the road below. "Race!" I said more urgently, inching towards him though I knew it wouldn't help. He took a deep breath. "Goodbye," he whispered, and jumped down to the dusty Manhattan streets five stories below. Somehow I knew he wasn't talking to me. "RACE!!!" I screamed. I ran to the edge but he was gone. He wasn't falling, he wasn't dead on the ground, he wasn't clinging to the edge. He was gone. I screamed.

"SPOT," I heard someone yell. I woke up. I was still in my tower. Beads of sweat were trickling down my face at rapid speed. Thunder, Lightning, and Storm were in front of me. It was early, still dark out. The three messengers must've heard me screaming on their way to work and came to see what was up. "You'se okay?" Lightning asked. "Yeah, ya look like you'se seen a ghost," Storm added. I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it. "You'se t'ree go off ta woik," I insisted. "And let Queens know we ain't givin' up dat easily." The three boys saluted. "Yes, sir," they replied in unison. They turned to leave in the direction of their assigned borough of work. "Oh and guys?" They turned back to me. "Don't tell de othas 'bout dis." I added nervously. They nodded and left. God, I'm not gonna be able to face Racetrack at that trial today.