#also had to include a hint of ​spralbert in here because i love them your honor

[carryingthebanner]

✎ Writevember Day 3 ✎

Day 2

Balloons for Les

Prompt: Balloons

Words: too many 3,058

Content Warnings: food mention, briefly mentions loss of parents

“Ya can’t go there, Les. ‘S Brooklyn.” Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “No kid ‘o mine is goin’ down to Brooklyn by himself. ‘S just not happenin’.” Les huffed, facing toward Davey. “Don’t look at me! I’m not going to Brooklyn again.” Davey exclaimed, throwing up his hands. He shot Jack a glance, hoping that he would back him up on this. Instead, a mischievous smile crept on his face. “Dat don’t sound too bad, huh. Dave, you should take ya little brudda to Brooklyn.” Jack paused, holding back a snicker as Davey’s eyes widened. “I’s sure Spot would love to see ya.” Davey shot Jack a death glare before shaking his head. “What makes you think he would want to see any of the Manhattan newsies? We’re not Race or Albert.”

It was true - only Race and Albert had the privilege of going to Brooklyn whenever they pleased. Jack didn’t like it (and may or may not have felt a bit jealous that he, a fellow leader, wasn’t allowed on Spot’s turf), but he couldn’t blame Conlon - although he was cordial with Jack after his betrayal in order to make the strike successful, he had made it very clear on multiple occasions that he didn’t trust Jack: “Prove it to me, Kelly. Then we’ll talk.” However, Jack felt relieved knowing that at least two Manhattan newsies were on good terms with Brooklyn. If he ever needed a representative, he never hesitated to ask Race or Albert.

“Fine. How’s about I come with ya?” Jack suggested, against his better judgement. Davey looked at him incredulously. “Jack, if there was a list of newsies from any borough that Spot didn’t want to see, I’m certain that you would be at the top of it.” Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I’s changed, Conlon’s gonna have to realize that - one way or another. I ain’t trespassin’ on his turf ‘cause I ain’t sellin’ no papers there. If Les wants to have a look at the circus, then we should let ‘im.” Davey knew good and well that that wasn’t what trespassing meant, but he kept his mouth closed. Jack had a way of working his magic on practically everyone he came into contact with, so maybe he knew what he was doing. Davey just had to relax and trust him.

“Really?” Les squealed, looking enthusiastically between the two of them. Jack glanced over at Davey again before slinging his arm over Les’ shoulder. “Yeah, kid. Let’s go.”

The water sparkled beneath the sun and boats made tiny ripples in the water as the three of them walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Les stopped every few seconds to feed pigeons or to rush over to the nearest boat to watch it pass under the bridge, completely ignoring Davey’s calls to not stray too far behind.

They were barely halfway across the bridge when they heard loud whooping and the sound of coins being scattered across wood. The Brooklyn newsies were there. Not too unexpected. The Brooklyn boys often hung around here: playing jacks, selling papers and looking out for anyone that might be a Manhattan newsie. They slowed down their pace, and Davey stopped telling Les to come over.

He eventually did. “Did you see the big one? It looked incredible!” Les exclaimed, walking over to them. “What? Oh, nah kid. I didn’t see it. I bet it was though.” Jack responded, nervously running a hand through his hair. “How’s about you go looks at some more? I bet there’s others that are just as big.” Les shook his head. “No, I’m ready to go now. Come on, I wanna see the circus!” Jack shot Davey a nervous glance for what was probably the umpteenth time and then they continued on their way. It wasn’t that Jack was scared of Spot - he wasn’t even intimidated. But Jack knew how badly he had let down all of the newsies when he briefly became a scab. It still hurt him deeply to think about, and he felt ashamed to even show his face in Brooklyn. And it wasn’t just Brooklyn - It had taken him a bit to even feel comfortable with his newsies again. Sure, they accepted him back in no time (even the ones who were a little hesitant at first), but Jack still couldn’t shake the feeling of being a backstabber. Especially when it came down to the younger newsies and the ones who were badly wounded during the strike. Living as a newsie was far from living in high society, but it had always been important to Jack to set a good example for them. And he failed. He had assured Crutchie that he would never let him down, he had promised to fight for all of the newsies, even the ones who didn’t partake in the strike. And he was the one who turned out to be the quitter. Oh, the irony.

As they approached closer, Jack tried not to think about the past and instead tried to think of how he was going to explain to Spot’s newsies his reason for coming to Brooklyn. Suddenly, Davey poked him, and gestured up ahead. Surprise surprise, Spot was here too. “Just as luck would have it.” Jack muttered, sucking in his breath.

He squared his shoulders and strode over to where Spot, a few Brooklyn newsies, and (not so surprisingly) Race and Albert sat. “Heya Conlon!” He said, making sure to play up his charm. “How’s things goin’?” Spot looked up at Jack, continuing to maintain his gaze as he put down his cards and stood. “Why’re ya here, Kelly? State your purpose.” “We’s taking-” Spot moved to stand directly in front of Jack. “Business or pleasure?” He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. “Pl-” “I’m going to see the circus!” Les interrupted, the excitement evident on his face. Spot glanced at Les before returning his gaze to Jack.

Behind him, Albert nudged Race, prompting him to reach out and tap Spot on the arm. Spot turned his head ever so slightly to look back at Race, whose eyes pleaded with him to let Jack off the hook. Spot turned his back to Jack, and stood in silence for a few seconds before waving his hand in the air. They were in the clear. Jack gave Race a quick nod before continuing his walk. Spot stood watching them until they disappeared out of view.

They heard the circus before they saw it. Animated carnies yelled, “Come to the circus, it’s the best day of the year!” and loud horns played in the distance. The smell of fresh, buttery popcorn wafted through the air. Les couldn’t contain his happiness. He bounded over to the nearest booth, completely ignoring the ticket collector and tried to peer inside. “Hey kid! Where’s your ticket?” The collector yelled, standing up to block his view. Les stumbled back, stunned. A hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for any trouble he was causing, sir.” Davey’s voice came from behind him. “We were just on our way.” The collector gave them a stern look as Davey steered Les away, and Jack followed.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Les was clearly irritated. “I was lookin’!” Davey shook his head. “Looking to get yourself in trouble.” Les pulled himself away from him, walking over to go stand by Jack’s side. “Jack told me I could look! I was lookin’, right Jack?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Davey, ‘s okay, really. And Les, maybe ya should stay by da fence.” A long, metal fence surrounded the circus, keeping them out but still allowing them to view the vibrant red and white booths, the carousel’s intricate designs, the flashy costumes of the performers and the enticing fair food. The circus showed up annually and although Jack had never been, he had heard plenty from newsies who had seen it in passing. It was like nothing he had seen before.

Les looked longingly at the sight in front of him, and soon a man holding balloons came by. Immediately his eyes lit up. “Look, balloons!” He turned attention to Davey. “Could I get one, David? Please?” Davey shook his head. “I don’t want to have to explain to father why our earnings are significantly less than it was last time.” “I’ll work extra hard then! Younger sells more papes, remember?” Les insisted. “I said no, Les.”

Jack felt uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on something. Among the newsies, he was usually the one to break up fights and settle disagreements. He wasn’t used to this. “But-” Les tried again, only to be cut off by Davey. “Les, we can’t afford it. That’s final.”

Jack glanced awkwardly between them before holding up a finger to Les, and leading Davey a few feet away. “Listen,” He kept his voice low and dug around in his pocket. “I might have some spare change.” After all, he slept on the rooftop, so he sometimes did have a little extra money as opposed to the newsies who had to pay for a bed every night. He typically saved the extra cents in case a newsie happened to be down on their luck. Davey looked at Jack, his face turning red. “We’re no charity case.”

Jack felt as if he had been punched in the gut. The last time Davey had said those words to him were before he even knew Davey was Davey. Of course Jack knew that they weren’t a charity case, they both were hard workers and Davey hated asking anybody for anything.

“Stop thinkin’ dat’s what I means. I’s tryin’ to do a little somethin’ for da kid!” Davey forced a laugh. “What? I do not think that all the time! When’s the last time-” He stopped mid sentence, shocked. The last time he uttered those words was back in July. Back when he still didn’t trust Jack.

To make matters worse, Les had made his way over and they hadn’t noticed. He hated fights. He hated that his brother seemed so serious about saving money. Why couldn’t his enjoyment be just as important as what his family spent their money on? He didn’t understand.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Les whispered, unknowingly breaking both Jack and Davey’s hearts. “We should go.”

Davey’s hands fiddled with his pencil. He was trying to study for a test, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day. Les had been silent since then, and had barely eaten anything at dinner. To make matters worse, their mother had told him that if he didn’t eat, he couldn’t sell papers on Sunday. Selling papers on Sunday (and the occasional Friday) was something that Les looked forward to, and he hated that his mother threatened to take that away from him. One by one, the family retreated, leaving Les at the table. Davey hoped some space would do him good. He also hoped he hadn't been too hard on him.

Plonk! Davey jumped slightly as something hit his window. And then hit again and again. He set down his pencil, lifted up the window and peered out. Jack stood below, waving his hand. “‘Punzel, ‘Punzel, let down ya… fire ‘scape, or whateva.” Davey laughed quietly, leaning out the window further to lower the fire escape to the ground. “I didn’t know you liked fairytales.” Jack shrugged, coming closer to the ladder. “Heard Katherine readin’ it to Smalls da udder day. Thought I’d try it on ya.” Jack grabbed a hold of the rungs and climbed up. Davey moved back a little to make room for him, but Jack held up a hand. “Not comin’ in Dave. I wanted to-” “I’m sorry I snapped. I shouldn’t have said that to you, you were just trying to help.” Jack met Davey’s eyes. “Don’t sweat it Dave. I shouldn’t have put ya on da spot like that.” They stood in silence for a minute before Davey noticed Jack’s eyes scanning the room. “How’s Les?” Davey looked down as the guilt kicked in. It had been nearly two hours since he had last checked in on his brother. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to go about it. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He didn’t know how to respond, and Jack took notice. “Go check on da kid, I’ll see you’se tomorrow.” Davey sighed and nodded. “Good night.” He said quietly, and walked toward the kitchen.

Jack reached into his pocket, taking out a small, flat package wrapped in newspaper. He reached inside and pushed the window almost all the way down, before carefully placing the corner of the package under the window and shutting it.

Then he turned and started his way down the fire escape.

Les sat in front of a three-quarters-finished bowl of soup. His head was down, but the dried tears on his face were visible. Davey’s heart ached. He looked so small, so fragile. This was all because of him. He slowly walked over to the chair opposite Les and sat down. Les didn’t move. A long silence went by before Davey took a deep breath and broke the tension. “I’m sorry.” Les looked up slightly, blinking his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you. I didn’t mean to take away your happiness. I’m sorry for taking so long to check up on you. I’m sorry for ruining today for you. I’m… sorry.” Davey’s voice was quiet and his fingers twitched nervously. “And you shouldn’t have to eat this if you don’t want to. I know that soup is colder than a brick right now.” Another minute of silence passed before Davey pushed back his chair and stood up. “Come here.” He said, outstretching his arms. Davey knew that hugs always made his brother feel better, especially hugs from their mother. Even though Davey wasn’t Esther, he could still try and comfort Les the best way he knew how to.

Les padded over to him, taking him up on the offer.

“Why can’t I ever buy candy? Or go to the toy store just once? It’s not fair.” Les sniffled. Davey remembered asking these questions too when he was his brother's age, but that was before he understood how the world worked. He knew his parents wished that they could give them everything and more, but it just wasn’t very possible. “It’s just the way things are right now. They’re doing the best they can. It’s not easy, but they’re trying. I’m sorry.”

They hugged for a few more minutes before Davey pulled back. “Go get ready for bed, you look tired.” Les nodded sadly, and began to walk toward the door. Suddenly, he turned around and faced Davey. “It’s okay.”

Les walked over to the small, wooden table to blow out a candle. But his attention diverted to the window, where something had caught his eye. He crossed the room and gingerly lifted up the window, the package falling in his hands. Bringing it over to the candle, he realized that “For Les” was scrawled in big, messy letters. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he tore open the newspaper.

In his hands, he held a piece of paper. His eyes were drawn to the small signature in the bottom right corner. Jack’s. And then he noticed the picture.

Balloons.

Little bursts of red, green, white, orange and blue balloons. They were outlined with a pencil, and had curly, straight and wavy strings attached to them. Les couldn’t believe his eyes. Each one looked vastly different from the other. They were beautiful. The paper smelt vaguely of food, and Les giggled to himself. Jack must’ve used old fruits and vegetables to get the pigment. But that didn’t matter because it was perfect; It was his. He hugged the picture to his chest like it was worth a million dollars. To him, it was if Jack had given him the world.

Les ran ahead of Davey to the circulation gate, and for the first time, Davey didn’t tell him to slow down. He was glad to see a smile back on his brother’s face. He sped up, just in time to see Les bum rush Jack.

Jack steadied himself to keep from crashing into the newspaper wagon as Les threw his arms around him. Then he froze. Now Jack had always been affectionate. He was used to ruffling the newsies’ hair, playfully punching their sides, and slinging his arms around their shoulders. But hugs? That wasn’t something that he was used to. Well, at least not anymore.

When he first became a newsie, he was made fun of a lot for “being soft.” He really wasn’t (as most kids who had gone through a significant amount of loss which caused them to learn how to fend for themselves weren’t), but at the time, he just wanted to feel loved. Nowadays, he would usually hug a younger newsie when they were still new and grieving the loss of their parents or when they occasionally suffered a nightmare. Hugs were something that came only on occasion.

But this was Les, and Les wasn’t letting go. Jack could hug him without worrying that he was going to be mocked. So he relaxed his shoulders, and pulled his arms around the boy. Les squeezed him even tighter then. Jack could barely breathe, but he would never say anything to Les about it - he would hate to hurt the kid’s feelings. Plus, he actually liked the hug. He didn’t realize how much he had missed them. A few more moments passed before Davey appeared, holding his and Les’ papers. He took one look at Jack’s face and tried his best to keep from bursting into laughter. “Les, let up some. You don’t want to squeeze his insides out.” Davey chuckled. Les let go and grabbed his papers out of Davey’s hands. As he was putting them in his bag, Davey’s eyes locked with Jack’s. His eyes told a million stories. “Come on,” Les said, grabbing Davey’s wrist. “I don’t wanna miss my usual customers!” Les began to run, dragging Davey with him. With his eyes still fixed on Jack, Davey mouthed “Thank you,” before turning around to face whatever the day had to offer.