Starlight ~ A Modern Newsies AU

Early Morning

Morris tended to write down everything he saw. It was a habit he picked up in the hospital, when he didn't have much else to do. Sometimes he'd put a little sketch with whatever he wrote, and sometimes he'd even print out photographs and tape them into his book if he had any.

He wouldn't say he loved life. He did love some things, and that was what he wrote down. It helped him to remember the good things when he needed them most.

There wasn't much in the book. He had a lot written about Oscar, but some of those things ended up being crossed out. There was some stuff about random kids in school, mostly Jack, Crutchie, and Henry. He had a little bit about Katherine as well, but most of it was old memories. He didn't spend much time with her anymore, but they were very close friends as children.

Almost everything Morris knew was based on visual observations. He was deaf, and although he taught himself sign language, the only other person that knew it was Oscar and Katherine, who he no longer spoke to. He was never taught to read lips. He could speak, but hated it. He only did if he really had to. His parents had abandoned him at a young age and he was taken in by his uncle Wiesel, who didn't bother to teach him anything. 

Morris wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear. If he could, those dirty looks he got every day would more than likely have insults with them. He always saw people trying to talk to him with an unhappy look on their face, and although he was curious, he knew he didn't want to know what they were saying.

He knew that he was one of the most hated people in the school, along with Oscar. Neither of them had many friends, and they always ended up getting into fights. Morris didn't exactly understand why the fights were happening. It almost seemed to be because of something Oscar did, and although he never tried to get involved, someone always approached him anyway. He didn't like hurting people at all, but had no choice sometimes. If someone wouldn't leave him alone, all he could think to do was push them away.

As soon as he woke up, he would take out his journal and write whatever was on his mind. Usually, it was a dream he'd had or something that was happening that day. He tended to wake up early, before he had to be up. He usually didn't go back to sleep unless he was really tired.

This morning, he woke up around 5:30, and he had to be up at 6:45. He wasn't tired, since he fell asleep early the night before. He wasn't sure what time, but it was before dinner.

He went downstairs, journal in hand. There was a note on the counter to him from Oscar, explaining that his dinner was in the fridge. He didn't want it, so he threw it out. He knew he was expected to eat it, and if he didn't, Wiesel would be angry. 

When he had enough time, Morris liked going for walks in the morning. He decided he'd be able to go around the block a couple times and be home with enough time to get ready for school. He tried to leave the house quietly, but wasn't sure if he did or not. He did know how to be quiet, since Wiesel was always angry when he made too much noise, and there were many times when Oscar told him to stop being so loud.

While he was walking, he took some notes about what he saw. It wasn't much, just some birds, squirrels, and pretty flowers. When he got back home, Oscar and Wiesel were eating breakfast at the kitchen table. There was a plate for Morris, but he didn't plan on eating anything.

As soon as Morris came inside, Wiesel starting yelling at him. Morris just stared. He wasn't sure Wiesel even bothered to yell. It didn't accomplish anything. Maybe it was because Wiesel wasn't sure what to do besides yell, but Morris assumed Wiesel was in denial. He tried to talk to Morris a lot, even when Morris wasn't looking at him, or not even in the same room.

When Wiesel finally stopped yelling, Oscar explained what happened. 'He was asking where you were. And saying you got home too late and won't have time for breakfast,' he signed.

'I went for a walk,' Morris explained. 'And I don't want breakfast anyway. I'm not hungry.' He went up to his room to start getting ready.

Oscar didn't tell Wiesel what Morris had said. He never did, unless he really had to or if Morris asked him to. He used to explain everything, but then decided that if Wiesel wanted to communicate with Morris, he'd have to learn sign language. He always thought it was unfair that Wiesel had never even tried.

Oscar was starting to worry about Morris again. He'd only been home for about two and a half weeks, and he seemed to be doing okay at first. Recently, he seemed to have gotten worse though. Morris hadn't eaten in a few days, at least not that Oscar noticed. He'd pointed it out to Wiesel multiple times, but he always said Morris was fine. There was only one time that Wiesel had actually helped Morris, about a month ago, and it was only because he didn't have any choice but to do something.

When Morris finished getting ready, he went downstairs to wait for Oscar. He was looking at a book he had to read for school, but he didn't really understand any of it.

Oscar came downstairs and tapped Morris's shoulder. 'Ready?'

Morris nodded and put his book away, then started walking to school. He ended up falling pretty far behind. He always did. Oscar found it pretty annoying, since he'd always have to stop and wait for Morris to catch up, and had to leave much earlier than he wanted to so they wouldn't be late. But once they got to school, Morris would grab onto Oscar's arm. He was scared to lose him. It happened sometimes, and he'd always get scared when it did. 

Morris didn't like school as much as he wanted to. He was in a large class with an interpreter, Miss Hannah. He was supposed to watch her all the time, but he always got distracted by something. Sometimes he wished he was in a room with only her so they could move at a slower pace, since he felt bad asking her to repeat anything he missed or didn't understand.

He was fast when it came to getting his work done. He always rushed through it so he'd have time to draw or write in his journal. He looked around at everyone in the room, and wrote a few things he noticed down. That was the only slightly interesting thing about school. Observing.