Newsies One Shots

For the Record, This Means Nothing

Prompt - Light in the Dark
Au - None
Triggers - Swearing, one sad boi

•••

Ike sighed, resting his back against cool metal. Humidity hung in the air and the foul stench of the river was carried to him on a stale breeze. He tried to focus on the waves, watching their steady rhythm from his vantage point, breathing shallowly through his mouth. He was perched on an old crane, as high as he could get before becoming trapped by vertigo. His head still spun a bit when he looked down, but it was better than the crowded streets.

He liked it up there. It was peaceful. The city was spread below him like pieces on a game board, the people the players. Watching them with a bored expression, a sad look in his eyes, he kicked his heels a little. The rattling of a trolley reached his ears, its dull clatter rising above the clop of hooves and the barely audible murmur of voices, of a city still buzzing with life.

Ike glanced about wearily, his eyes slipping over buildings, over brickwork and window panes, without any interest. He was tired and annoyed and his ankle hurt where he went over it running between carts. It throbbed dully, even a day or so later and it made getting to his little platform a right pain in the ass. Hunger had him in its grip and the sluggish heat was weighing everything down, making selling difficult. Overall he just felt like crap.

The slow pace, the way life seemed to have ground to a halt, got to him. He was thirsty and exhausted and he hadn't washed properly for a fortnight. People now, more than usual, looked at him like he was a speck of dirt under their shoe or something unpleasant they had to side step in the gutter and he despised it.

And yet Ike could apparently do jack shit about it except sit around and mope. It was pretty pathetic but he didn't want to do anything else. He wanted to watch the people crawling below him like ants and just forget about his mountain of problems for a little while. Which wasn't really working spectacularly well.

The sun was starting to dip below the towering skyline and Ike could feel his legs tingling from sitting so long when he heard someone below him. He froze, carefully peering between crisscrossing struts, a fox caught in the glare of a light, staring down the barrel of a gun. He had been non too gently kicked out of this place one too many times and threatened with arrest enough to be a little on edge. It took him second to see anything and for a moment he thought he was imagining it, and then someone hissed his name and he relaxed his coiled shoulders.

"Don't do's that," He said irritably, shifting a little, shaking out his leg and grimacing at the pinpricks that stabbed it. He listened to a few muttered curses and grunts before he got a reply.

"Do's what?"

"Scare the fucks outta me," Ike said, craning his neck until he spotted Mike crouched a little below him, focusing on not falling to his death.

Mike ignored him. "How's the hell did ya get up here's?"

Ike leaned back, shaking his head at his twin. He really wasn't in the mood. "Talents," he said without much interest.

Mike grunted a little and heaved himself up until he was perched next to Ike, holding onto a metal bar above him to hang over the edge. Ike's head reeled and he grabbed a handful of Mike's shirt, yanking him back.

"Stops that's," he said, glancing at the sheer drop.

Mike stuck his tongue out childishly and Ike controlled the urge to clap him around the head, despite the temptation. He looked at his brother, who moved to rest on his heels and scan the skyline opposite them.

Mike's hands and face were stained with dirt and he was breathing heavily, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead that stuck his shirt to his back and made him smell just as bad as Ike and the foul air. He still had a few tattered papers sticking out of his back pocket that looked like they'd been through a war and his cap sat crookedly on his head. His grin was tired and bright.

"Whatta ya up here's for?" He asked.

Ike just shrugged, turning away a little. He resisted the urge to snap or ask how Mike had found him. He had been careful to avoid being followed by anyone and really didn't want to talk.

Mike frowned, leaning over the drop again to peer at Ike before jumping back a bit as a stale breeze whistled past him. He nodded a little, sitting to swing his legs next to Ike, close enough that their shoulders brushed. He poked his side a few times. Ike ignored him.

"Hello," Mike said. "Yous there?"

Ike shook his head.

"Oh," Mike said, lapsing into silence for a few minutes. He looked sideways at Ike. "Yous ok?"

Ike looked at him, his expression just tired. He shrugged again, looking down at the road far below them, his grip on the metal tightening unconsciously. They really were far too high up to be considered sensible. The steel dug into his palms until he drew in a sharp breath and pulled his hand away, examining the groove that was left there. Whoops.

"Ise'll take dat as a no," Mike said. He rested his head against Ike's shoulder before Ike shoved him off. Mike frowned a little, scanning the side of his brothers face, his eyebrows knitting together. Ike felt a little bad, but not enough to talk.

Mike sighed a little, tipping his head back to look at the sparse clouds scudding across the sky, as lazily as the city below them. He whistled a few notes, horribly out of tune and Ike cringed a bit, glancing once at him.

"Aha!" Mike said, startling Ike with his suddenness. "Yous looked at me's,"

"Whatta ya wants, a medal?" Ike muttered, a small scowl on his face. He wasn't angry at Mike, but he wanted something to snap at.

Mike shook his head. "Was' up?" He asked, tracing a pattern on the metal grid.

Ike sighed again. "Everythin'"

Mike nodded a little, for once not joking or being obnoxious. He shifted to rest his shoulder against Ike's. This time, Ike didn't shove him off. A small ache rose in his chest and he leaned into Mike almost unconsciously, not looking at him. He didn't say anything and for a moment neither did Mike. The silence was comfortable.

"Screw life," Mike said, breaking the quiet.

Ike snorted a little despite himself and Mike looked pleased.

"Yeah," Ike said, a little sadly still. "Screws life,"

"Is yer ankle still sores?" Mike asked him, nudging Ike's foot with a toe.

Ike winced and punched his arm, moving his foot away. "Yes," he said. He could tell Mike was trying to distract him and he was glad.

"Yous looked pretty dumbs when you hurt its,"

Ike looked indignant. "You wasn't there!" He said.

Mike nodded. "Ise imagining," he said with sly grin.

Ike barged into him and Mike dug an elbow into his rib in return, laughing a little. After a second, Ike laughed with him, quietly, glad Mike was there, royal pain in the arse that he was. He somehow always knew what to do to cheer Ike up, even if for some bizarre reason it always involved pissing him off.

"I hates you," Ike said, resting his head on Mike's shoulder.

Mike laughed. "Yeah," he said. "So does I,"