Bear with me with the titles, okay? They'll get better, don't worry. Well. If I did writing correctly, I left you in a mess after how the last chapter ended! So here's to find out what happens next. Enjoy! :)
David is still unconscious on the floor. The Delanceys have a malicious look in their eyes. Oscar, even though he hasn't put his finger on the trigger yet, has not yet moved the cold metal from the side of Race's head. They know that they've won. Snyder stands back, watching it all fall into place.
"What'll it be, Cowboy?" Weasel sneers.
Jack bites his lip.
Spot, for one, can't think straight. They have Race. That's the only thought that goes through his head. They have Race. They have Race. They have Race.
"Decide before I do something to your friend here," Oscar snarls. He tightens his grip on Race, and presses the gun even closer. It's impossible to read Race's expression.
"If I give you the newsies turf of Manhattan, and leadership of the newsies, like you want," Jack says as calmly as he can in the situation, "will you let Race go?"
"Jack, I'm not worth it," Race tells him. "Get Davey. Get outta here."
"What about me, Race?" Spot cries out. "I can't leave you like this."
Race looks Spot directly in the eye. "Givin' Brooklyn to them ain't worth someone like me. What have I ever done for anyone?"
"You mean the world to me, Race." Spot blinks to hold back tears. "You mean more than Brooklyn and New York and the whole wide world combined."
Race's face softens. It's full of so much sorrow. In those deep brown eyes are regret, sorrow, but also, love. He sighs, defeated. He's already resigned himself to fully knowing that this isn't going to have a good outcome.
Where Jack is, partially bent over to look at David, partially standing upright, it's obvious that he has a whole conflict of emotions. There's David. There's Race. This is hitting him as hard as it's hitting Spot; except Jack has slightly more to lose. True, Spot doesn't want David to die. He'll keep him alive as long as he can. Jack is the one with the strong relationship with David, though. And he has a strong bond with Race, too. Longer than Spot and Race have been together.
But that doesn't make Spot love Race any less.
Maybe Spot would be nothing without Brooklyn.
But he would be even less than that if he didn't have Race.
Memories go through his head.
Spot, ten, walking around Brooklyn turf. He's been a newsie for some time now. He's working his way up.
He comes across an unfamiliar boy at Sheepshead Races.
He introduces himself as Anthony Higgins.
The next day when they meet his name is Race.
Spot, twelve, knows exactly where to find Racetrack Higgins.
It's midday, with many rounds of races today.
He waits for Race to come out.
And tries to ignore the warm feelings he has when Race's face brightens up when he sees him.
Spot, fourteen, is pretty much the leader of Brooklyn by now. He's worked his way up in the world.
He still likes checking Sheepshead to see if Race is there.
As long as Spot as known Race, the only thing predictable about him as that somewhere he'll be out betting somewhere.
And he feels a glimmer of satisfaction as he watches Race go into Sheepshead, showing no sign on noticing Spot watching him from a distance.
Spot, fifteen, having time to have contemplated the idea of helping Manhattan with their strike.
It's dark. Not as many people are out.
And yet Race shows up. He wasn't expecting this.
But he's glad all the same that Race came.
Spot, almost a week ago, asking Race to come meet him at sunset.
He nearly thought that Race had forgot. Or just didn't want to come. He gets up to leave.
Suddenly, Race literally comes crashing into him. They laugh it off. Then they talk.
And then they kiss, and have never been happier.
Spot inhales deeply. All those memories. True, they had all been in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is his home. Always has been. Heck, his family lives--or lived; he truly doesn't know--in Brooklyn. But Brooklyn would mean nothing if he didn't have Race with him.
Spot stands there, frozen, not entirely sure what do still. Does he say something? He can't let Race die, that's for sure.
And in his indecision, all he does is stand entirely still, making no gesture to suggest his decision to go one way or the other.
Bored with Spot, the Delanceys taunt Jack.
"Scared, Cowboy?"
"We told you we'd fix up your pal Davey."
Jack stands up fully. He clenches his fists. His nostrils flare. But he doesn't move. He's smart. He knows the situation will worsen if he makes a move. But it's still so dang hard to let them get away with this.
"The boy goes free," Snyder puts in, "if you come with me. You'll never have to worry about his safety ever again. His family will rejoice at his return. In time, he will forget you. You'll have been merely a person he once met. And, in that sense, we don't have to worry about your little lover problem ever again."
Jack stiffens. Spot can hear his hard breathing. That's nothing easy to here. Spot wishes he could tell Jack that everything was going to be okay. But he can't speak.
And then...
Jack nods. "I'll do everything you guys want."
Spot's heart drops. "No!" But he knows it's no use.
The Delanceys and Weasel openly rejoice. Snyder's lip curls. He keeps getting scarier and scarier with each new move he makes. And more dangerous. And creepy.
Now that Jack has made a deal with the devil...
...Spot has less of a chance of holding his ground.
"We won!" Oscar, Morris, and Weasel shout. They start doing dances. Except for Oscar, still holding on to Race.
"What'll it be, Spot?" Oscar turns to Spot. "Don't think we'd forgotten you. Time's running out." Finally, he cocks the gun.
"No!" Spot shouts, flinging a hand out.
"Spot, don't do it!" Race yells, but in vain.
"YOU WANNA WATCH YOUR WRETCHED BOYFRIEND DIE, SPOT?"
"No!" Spot drops to his knees. He's fully sobbing now. "You can have Brooklyn! Have it all! Just please, PLEASE, let go of Race."
Now it's time for Oscar's lip to curl. He puts the gun away. Well, he's about to, until Snyder takes it from him.
So the gun belongs to Snyder. Again, another thing that makes more sense.
"I think we need to make this official!" Weasel rubs his hands together. "You two want a handshake? Put all hard feelings behind us?"
Jack glares at Weasel. But, slowly, hesitantly, he pulls out his hand.
"Jack," Spot says, "you know if you shake on it, there's no going back." Regardless of that, Spot knows what he's choosing. Jack does too.
Jack spits in his hand. He's about to hold it out.
Then...
....no one is entirely sure what is happening now.
All of them hear someone or something coming from outside. All eight faces are confused. No one, absolutely no one, has planned on this.
Then, if no one knows what's out there, that's currently moving closer to them...
...what is it that's out there?
OOOOOHHHHHHHH CLIFFHANGER!!!! YOU WILL LIKE THIS ONE THOUGH!
I'm not gonna lie I got a little, okay, more than a little, near emotional when Race is saying that he isn't worth whatever they have to give up.
Apparently Another Life by Lucas & Steve (featuring Alida) is a really good Sprace song, especially in this circumstance.
I don't care that this is barely 1000 words. I wrote this in half an hour. Approximately. Like, 30-40 min range. 40 minutes. But still.
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!! <3 :)
Ready for what happens next? ;)
Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.
Best,
~Your Beloved Author (who doesn't have time to watch all Pirates of the Caribbean to honor Johnny Depp's birthday today, but rewatched all the trailers and best Captain Jack Sparrow scenes)