The Queen's Race (Newsies | Sprace)

Chapter 6

"You don't know?" Race said, confused, looking at all the people in Spot's room.

"Race, the only people who know are Mush, Jack, and myself. But I think there is a lot more than you never shared with anyone," Spot said, looking into the blue eyes of the boy he loved. "Race, could you tell us all of it." Spot watched as Race unfocused from the situation and become distant. In contrast, his face became contorted with a mixture of fear and pain. "Tesoro," Spot calls, causing Race to return to the present.

"I don't want to go back. Don't make me go back," Race says before rest his head on Spot's shoulder.

Jack walks into the room and stands behind Spot. "We'd never make you go back, Race. Not now, not ever."

"Wait, what does Tesoro mean," Crutchie asks while moving across the room and sitting on the bed beside Race and Spot.

"I don't know, it's something Italian, and Race always calls me it," Spot says, "It could mean asshole for all I know." Race laughs a little into Spot's shoulder.

Race removes his head from Spot's shoulder while wiping a tear from under his eye. "Tesoro. It is an Italian word meaning Treasure or Sweetheart. My family, biological family, is Italian. Italian is always spoken; it's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Asshole is Stronzo."

"You don't catch it, but a lot of the time, he will talk to himself in Italian, or when he's mad, it comes out that way," Spot said, running his hands through Race's head of curls. "Race says phrases to me in Italian to me, and I understand about half of them."

"Race, can we see them," Jack asks. Race knows what Jack wants to see. Jack wants to see the scars that adorn his sides and back.

"You won't judge me," Race says casually.

Spot leans in and lightly kisses Race. "I will only judge your gambling problems." Race giggles before unbuttoning his vest and setting it aside, followed by his button-up, which reveals fading bruises along his arms. Race slips his undershirt over his head, now entirely vulnerable formable to the stares of his best friends and boyfriend. "Can I touch them?" Spot asks casually.

Race nods his head as Spot and the boys begin tracing all the little white lines and dents that crisscross over Race's chest and back. Spot moves behind Race running his fingers over the groves that crosshatch his boyfriend's back. "Race, what made these?" Jack asks, tracing one along Race's collarbone that he had never noticed.

"Knives, glass, and whips sometimes," Race says quietly before wincing as Crutchie touches one that was relatively new from Volt. Spot quickly moves to the cut Crutchie had agitated.

"Race, how old is this one," Spot asks, already knowing he doesn't want to know.

"It's from yesterday," Race says, biting on his lower lip nervously.

Spot quickly captures Race's lip between his fingers. "Stop before you make it bleed. Did Volt do it?" Race nods his head, yes. "Why, Race?"

"He wanted information about Brooklyn and Manhattan, and I wouldn't give it to him," Race says before sliding his undershirt back on without making a move for his button-up. "That's what the bruises on my arms are from too. I swear I didn't tell him anything."

"I know you didn't," Spot laughs before knocking Race backward onto the bed and begins nibbling at Race's neck making Race squirm.

"Ok, we will see you two tomorrow," Jack says before coxing Mush and Crutchie out the door.

"Bye, Cowboy," Race says while squirming again under Spot's touch.