Spot Conlon was not an open book. In fact, one might say he was a locked closet door, unwilling to let anyone inside. He did not show if he was happy. He didn't show if he has sad. And he most certainly didn't cry.
Spot also was very... ambitious. He went after what ever he wanted, and got it. He had hooked up with practically every girl in the borough. But something, he can take things a little too far.
For example: the 'hattan boy who he hated in the most loving way ever. God that boy was terrible. Fuck his stupid pretty eyes, and his stupid pretty smile, and his stupid personality, and his stupid Italian, and his stupid way with words.
Stupid Beautiful Antonio Luca Giovani "Racetrack" Higgins.
If it weren't for Racetrack, spot would've never been in this mess.
One day, he couldn't take it anymore. Racetrack was just blabbering on and on and spot couldn't even comprehend what Race was saying because 'god those lips look so soft. Why am I thinking like this? I ain't a queer. I'm not queer for RACETRACK... but his lips... and eyes... and hair... and personality...' before he knew it, he was closing the gap between the two.
Spot pulled away to see shock on Racetrack's face.
'What have I done'
YOU ARE READING
Newsies Oneshots *Requests open*
FanfictionSEND REQUEST FOR ONESHOTS -FLUFF -ANGST (Maybe lemon)
