#newises hot shot

[sk1ttery]

Who is the dad of the group in Wallflower AU because I feel like its Specs but something tells me other wise

There are a few dads in the group.

For the Manhattan Bunch, Specs and Jack are both dads in their own ways !

Specs has an open door policy and people tend to crash at his house a lot because his parents aren’t around he he has his own place. His house has this sort of ‘safe’ feeling to it. A lot of the group can sleep easier at Specs’ house than they can in their own - Bumlets’ house is the same but that’s because his parents adopted all his friends, he isn’t responsible enough to be a group dad. /affectionate

Some live with Specs permanently, as in they have moved in with him. Dutchie, Blink, Skittery & Tumble, Spike (OC) and Elmer. (In order of who moved in from first to most recently in the Wallflower Timeline) The others refer to them as “The Specs Household”.

And most of the wingmen have keys to his house ! The wingmen being Specs, Skittery, Bumlets, Racer, Blink, Swifty, Dutchie, Pie-Eater, Snoddy and Katherine.

Jack’s the dad in the sense he’s someone the others go to when they need to talk. When he escapes Snyder he ends up moving in with Medda and Crutchie and Medda also has an open door policy for the group. In terms of Jack and Specs though, Specs has his open door policy, Jack has his “Always available” policy. Meaning the others can message/call him at ANY time. He doesn’t care if he’s sleeping and they wake him, he’ll pick up.

He never has his phone on silent for this reason - He’d much rather one of his friends call and wake him than deal with an issue by themselves.

That and he’s the sort of leader of the Manhattan group? That sort of automatically makes him a parental figure so some of the slightly younger ones.

Henry also sort of falls into a parental role but specifically for The Bros. (Henry, Finch, JoJo, Buttons and Elmer) He just has to babysit them because they’re idiots.

Now, the dads of the BROOKLYN Bunch are Hot-Shot and Graves, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, they’re some of the oldest. Graves has always been there for everyone through everything they’ve gone through, and Hot-Shot is always on call if people need support.

But overall, the group as a whole (Both Hattan and Brooklyn) It’s probably Jack and/or Specs.

[neverplannedonnewsies]

Crutchie: Some if you have asked me what got me through the Refuge.

Was it my family? Don’t be stupid.

Was it knowing that my friends would eventually get me out? Of course not, I never believed in any of you.

No the only thing that kept me sane was planning for the post-strike celebration, those many years doing hard time.

Davey: It was 3 days.

Hot Shot: I also went to prison dawg.

Crutchie: We’re getting off track here.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Building Home Chapter 5

Hey guys and welcome to another cool fucking chapter by yours truly /j. In all seriousness I am SO excited for this one because hell yeah newsie! Anyways the last chapter title was from S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, kudos to @wishiwasthemoon-tonight for guessing that one!

Title: Building Home

Chapter Title: We lit the fire

Chapter Wordcount: 4188

Chapter Summary:

The mysterious new crew member arrives, swears a lot, and befriends Cherri Cola.

POV: NewsAGoGo

Warnings: violence, death mentions. (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers@stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen​ @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

Chapter 3 Tumblr Post

Chapter 4 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

NewsAGoGo was hot. And tired. Who would have guessed that the desert was this fucking hot? Well, probably everyone, but it was even hotter than you would reasonably expect from a desert. It was all well and good to say that the desert could reach a hundred degrees or more, something entirely different to actually experience it. It was fucking broiling. NewsAGoGo was cooking in her skin, even in the white clothes she had taken from Battery City. Why in the name of fuck had she decided to do this again? Oh, right, because the other option was to be taken away and trained as an exterminator. Which, if Newsie was going to end up in this goddamn war, they were sure as hell not fighting for the corporation which seemed out to ruin everyone’s fucking lives.

So Newsie was tromping into the desert, tired and hot and did they mention tired? Their feet hurt from walking, and they were starting to think hitchhiking would have been a better idea. The Juvie hall rebels within the city had gotten them out, sure, but actually getting to other killjoys was a whole different story, and so far it was more of a horror story than a fairy tale. 

It was about to be even more of a horror story, as Newsie discovered when a car of draculoids started bearing down on her.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck!” Newsie looked around quickly and spotted a handily placed tumbleweed not too far off the road. It probably wouldn’t hide her for long, but it was also sheltered by dunes, and it was by far her best bet. Maybe they could even take out some of the dracs from behind there. So Newsie hurried behind it, waiting for the car to pass by.

It appeared the car wasn’t actually here for them, as it passed by without incident, slowing slightly as it went by. Curious, Newsie hurried over to find that there was a supply truck stopped in the center of the road not a hundred feet off from where she had been, and a killjoy in a distinctive pink mask was standing by it, seemingly unafraid of the car bearing down on them. 

Newsie almost shouted a warning before realizing that was one of the most damn stupid ideas they had ever had. It didn’t seem like the killjoy needed one either, as they let the car bear down on them until the last possible second, throwing themselves aside as the car sped past. It took a few minutes for the draculoid driving to be able to turn around, and by then, the killjoy had a ray gun out and pointed at the car. Newsie watched as they shot the draculoid driving, seemingly perfectly unafraid. The car screeched to a halt as another few shots hit the engine of the car, the other dracs hurrying to stop it and get out. 

Now that they were outside the shelter of the car, the killjoy’s true skill was revealed. It hardly seemed like a fair fight at first, four dracs on one killjoy, but Newsie realized it was more than fair- it was unfair to the dracs. Two of them were dead within a second, and the third almost cowered in terror as they tried to duel with the killjoy. But whoever the joy was, they had forgotten to account for the fourth drac. 

Newsie could hardly believe they were doing this, but they raised the ray gun a few juvie halls had given them and took aim, steadying their hand with their other one as they pulled the trigger.

Her shot didn’t kill the drac outright, but it hit the drac in the arm and made them scream. That was enough to alert the killjoy, who had just finished disarming and knocking out the third drac, and they turned and shot the forth point-blank. Newsie breathed a silent sigh of relief, although she didn’t exactly know why.

Meanwhile, the pink-masked killjoy was looking around. “Whoever fired the first shot on this, I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, you just saved my ass, so thank you!”

Newsie hurried down the slope, hoping this guy could bring them back to some form of civilization or at least somewhere with shade. They were sweltering. “Hey!”

“Hey there!” The killjoy nodded to her. “Thanks for having my back there, I was careless to let that fourth one slip by me.”

“Uh, no problem.”

“I’m Cherri Cola, he/him. Do you have a Zone name yet?”

Newsie thought about it for a second and gave him the name she had considered and debated many times over on the endless walk here. “NewsAGoGo. She/her, uh, and they/them.”

“Nice to meet you. You’re an undergrad, yeah?”

“I would literally be a freshman in high school.”

Cherri Cola stared at them for a second and then cracked up. “Sorry, Zone slang. You’re fresh out of Batt City is what I mean.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fresh out of Battery City, what’s it to you?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I was wondering if you needed a place to stay, I didn’t have one when I got out here either.” 

That was...kinder than they expected. They still didn’t trust this strange killjoy with fire in his eyes, but he was their best option for getting somewhere other than the side of a road in Zone whatever. “Yeah, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well then I’ll bring you back to Autumn. They’ll take anyone.”

Newsie tried not to be insulted by that as Cherri Cola led her back to his motorcycle. “Fancy ride.”

“D helped me fix it up,” he said, as if she knew who ‘D’ was. “The sidecar’s all full, I hope you don’t mind riding on the back.”

They did mind a little, but it was better than being crammed in a sidecar even if the sidecar hadn’t been full. So they shook their head. “I don’t mind.”

“Great!” Cherri Cola climbed on and gestured her after. “Let’s go before the crows get here.”

Newsie hopped on the motorcycle reluctantly, cautiously hanging on to him. “You better not turn out to be a murderer or something.”

“Oh, I am.” Cherri’s voice was surprisingly calm. “But only of dracs and crows, not miscellaneous teenagers who saved my life.”

“Like you’re not a teenager.”

“I’m almost eighteen!”

“Old person,” Newsie snorted.

“And how old are you, then?”

“Fourteen.” 

“Not the youngest ‘joy I’ve known.”

Cherri was a frankly terrible driver, by any sane person’s standard. He went far too fast and took curves at frankly irresponsible speeds, forcing Newsie to hang on tightly. The only good thing that could be said was that he did keep his eyes focused on the road, driving with a fierce intensity, like he was running from something she couldn’t see. So yes, by any sane judgement, Cherri Cola was a fucking terrible driver. 

Newsie rather enjoyed his driving. Sure, they had to wrap their arms around his waist so they didn’t fall off the fucking bike, but the speed was exciting. Freeing. Of all the times Newsie had talked to random strangers over the course of her life, this had to be one of the best outcomes.

And so down the desert roads they went, kicking up dust behind them as Cherri Cola took them back to what appeared to be a small settlement. It had the look of a pre-Helium Wars era town, but as they got closer, Newsie could see that all the buildings were in varying states of destruction, and graffiti was everywhere. Color was the resounding theme of the area, and killjoys hollered back and forth to each other across the broken down streets. It was noisy and chaotic and eye-scorching, and Newsie loved it already. 

“Welcome to our town.” Cherri’s voice had a hint of pride in it as he honked the horn at a few killjoys in their way.

“It’s fucking loud.” It was fucking perfect.

“The noise comes with having a bunch of kids in a town.” He pulled to a stop in front of a tall house with ‘House of Soup’ spray painted over the door.

Newise snorted and Cherri shot her a glare. “Care to help me unload?”

“Fine.”

She helped him carry in several large boxes of varying things, batteries and power pup mainly, and got quite a few stares.

“Hey, Cher!” That was a killjoy with bleached white streaks through their hair, bearing a wide smile as they leaned in to hug Cherri. “Who’s this?”

“NewsAGoGo, she’s new to the desert. She/they.” Cherri turned to Newsie. “This is White Lily, she/her and leader of the current rebellion, as much as we have any one leader.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” White Lily’s smile seemed genuine, although her eyes blazed with a similar fire to Cherri’s. 

Newsie shook her offered hand carefully. “Nice to meet you.” 

“So you’re staying with us?” White Lily didn’t wait for a reply before turning back to Cherri. “Cher, you can take off your mask, you know.”

He sighed and pushed his pink mask up onto his forehead, revealing the dark circles under his eyes and the child-like softness of his face, a sharp contrast to his angular cheekbones.

“A literal child, that’s what you look like,” Newsie declared.

Cherri glared at her. “I know I look like I’m twelve, fuck off.” His face might have been young, but his eyes were old and frankly the only even vaguely intimidating thing about him. If Newsie hadn’t watched him face down a car full of dracs on his own, they would have thought he was nothing to be afraid of. 

“You look younger than me.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was entertaining to watch Cherri’s face at that.

“Alright, I’m off to talk to D,” White Lily declared. “You can talk to Autumn Assassin about finding a room for them.” Her words were casual, but the tone made it clear it was an order.

“I will, tell D he needs to come in pretty soon if he doesn’t want to miss dinner.” 

Newsie was starting to wonder if she was going to meet this mysterious D. “So...Autumn Assassin?”

“The person who runs this house. They should be out back.” Cherri led them through the house and out to the backyard area, where a short, red-haired killjoy appeared to be teaching a much taller one how to hold a ray gun. “Hey, Autumn!” 

“Oh, hey, Cola.” They didn’t turn, busy adjusting the other killjoy’s grip.

“Do we have a spare room?”

“Not right now, we’re at capacity with that new crew of joys.”

“Fuck.”

“Why?”

Cherri gestured at Newsie. 

“Oh, newbie.” Autumn Assassin looked Newsie up and down. “We’ve got an extra mattress, but not another room, do you think you and your crew can let them stay with you? Assuming you’re okay with that, kid.”

Cherri huffed a sigh. “D and Lil probably won’t mind. NewsAGoGo?”

“Guess I’ll stay with you.” They didn’t know what possessed them to do so, but after a second they add a small “Fucker.”

To their surprise, Cherri laughed. “You won’t be a bad roommate, I think.”

Newsie started her career as Cherri’s roommate by sticking to his side like a limpet, unwilling to leave the one person she actually knew. Cherri tolerated this with a surprising amount of grace, giving them a patient smile as he led them upstairs to put the spare mattress in the room they would now be sharing with Cherri, Lily, and whoever D was. He didn’t protest it, not even as they followed him outside. 

“Where are we going?”

“You need killjoy clothes.” 

Newsie frowned in annoyance that he just assumed they’d follow, but to be fair, they had followed him everywhere so far. “So where are we going?”

“Tommy Chow Mein’s.”

Cherri Cola took them to the store across the way, what looked to have once been a general store. Now it was still one, but a killjoy one, filled with everything from bubblegum to ray guns to miscellaneous bits of clothing, which were what Cherri headed for. “Here we go.”

“I have literally ten carbons.”

“Tommy knows me, I’ll get you a discount. Plus, D, Lil and I have some to spare.” 

Newsie stared at the floor. “You better not be helping me because I’m pitiful and just ran away from home because fucking Better Living was going to turn me into one of their fucking soldiers so I ran and ran and walked so fucking far in that heat and now I look like a fucking mess.”

She didn’t have to look up to know his face was sympathetic, she could feel it in his gaze. “I’m not helping you because your life has been shit or I feel bad for you, I’m helping you because it’s a decent thing to do. Plus, I’ve been there,” he added after a second. “I came out to the desert with no one to help me or a single fucking person who cared.” 

Newsie glanced up at that. “So now you just help random killjoys?”

Cherri shrugged. “Mostly I kill dracs. But sometimes, yeah.” 

She was still somewhat reluctant, but she picked out a shiny-looking peach jacket, ripped black jeans, an utterly hideous purple, green and gold shirt, and sturdy boots with purple laces. 

Cherri gave them a thumbs up of approval, grinning at the outfit. “You have style.”

“You don’t.” He was wearing a turquoise t-shirt, jeans that approximately resembled the ground in how dusty they were, and a black leather jacket which was clearly too small for him. 

Cherri flipped them off and dropped a couple of carbons on the counter along with the clothes Newsie had grabbed.

“Swindler,” Tommy Chow Mein snorted. “Are you trying to cheat me out of all these clothes?”

“Who got you out of that clap the other week? And besides, a swindler is someone who sells overpriced goods.”

Tommy gave him a small glare but took the money. “You’re impudent.”

“And you’re a capitalist, your point?” 

That earned them a sigh. “Say hi to D for me.” 

“Will do.” Cherri gave Newsie a glance that said ‘follow me’ and hurried out of the store. They followed him back across the street and over to Autumn Assassin’s house, heading inside to find the living room just as chaotic as before and the short killjoy from earlier stirring a pot of...something in the kitchen. 

"That'll be dinner," Cherri told her with a grin.

At dinner that night, Newsie finally got to meet the mysterious D, who turned out to be a rather tired looking killjoy in a deep brown leather jacket.

“D, this is NewsAGoGo, she/they. They’ll be staying with us because Autumn doesn’t have a spare room,” Cherri introduced. “NewsAGoGo- can I call you Newsie? Or is that not a good nickname- this is Dr. Death Defying, he/they. We all call him D.”

“You can call me Newsie, I guess. Fucker.” She shook D’s offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, NewsAGoGo.” His smile was tired but friendly. 

Newsie’s first night there was a little bit strange, trying to sleep in a strange room with three strangers asleep just across from her. Or, well, not asleep, in the case of the stranger who had brought her here. By virtue of not being able to sleep, they were the only one awake to see Cherri roll off the mattress with a muffled curse, climbing to his feet and rubbing his eyes as he wandered over to the window.

“Hey. Fucker,” Newsie hissed.

He turned, looking a little startled. “Yeah?”

“Whacha doing?”

“Can’t sleep. You?”

“Me too.” She climbed off her own mattress, coming over to join him by the window. “What do you do when that happens out here?”

“Look at the stars, mostly. There aren’t any stars in Battery City.”

“Smart.” Newsie looked out the window, staring up at what looked like hundreds, no, thousands of stars. “Holy shit.”

“There are a lot, yeah.”

“No shit.” It might have been the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, with the possible exception of the killjoy town by daytime. But that was beautiful in a different way, colors and noise and life that made you feel brave. The stars were beautiful in a quiet way that made you feel small and like everything was going to be okay. Newsie understood why Cherri liked to watch them at night. There was a strange sort of comfort in being reminded how truly tiny your place in the universe was.

They glanced over at him. “So…Cherri Cola, huh? You really like soda?”

“My sister did.”

Newsie didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Thankfully Cherri continued the conversation, keeping the silence from being crushing. “Why did you pick NewsAGoGo?”

“GoGo because I’m always going, I guess. News because of the old reporter droids who took care of me. So NewsAGoGo.”

“That makes sense.”

The silence that followed was a little awkward, but not crushingly so. Eventually, Newsie started yawning.

“You should sleep.”

“You should too, but I didn’t say anything,” Newsie shot back quietly.

“I’ll sleep if you will,” Cherri said dryly.

“Fine.” This time, she could actually fall asleep, Newsie found. The silence wasn’t so harsh, and it felt safer to sleep in a room with three others now that one wasn’t so much a stranger. 

Conversations like that became common as Newsie settled into living with the other three. Neither they nor Cherri could sleep through the night, most nights. So when their nightmares overlapped, the two of them would stand by the window and talk about the past and Battery City and all the things you didn’t discuss when the sun was shining bright overhead. 

Her bond with D and White Lily was nowhere near the same, even if it also tentatively grew stronger. D and Lily didn’t join them at night, even if it wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be awake either. Lily left the room, every time. Newsie suspected she didn’t want the others to hear her cry. D did…something. Newsie didn’t know. Maybe they just laid awake. Either way, it was only her and Cherri who stood by the window.

It was her and Cherri who tended to go out on missions, too. Cherri took her with him more often and more as the days went on. Newsie had continued her policy of sticking to him like a limpet, and he didn’t seem to mind that. So he took them on raids, bringing them to fight exterminators and on all sorts of dangerous things fourteen year olds were absolutely not supposed to do and Newsie rather enjoyed. 

He also brought her to Autumn Assassin, who declared that it was absolutely their responsibility to teach Newsie how to shoot a ray gun properly, as well as a variety of other weapons and American Sign Language (useful for communicating silently in claps and with nonverbal or hard of hearing killjoys, Cherri explained). Newsie didn’t exactly object to that, although they did wish a little someone else could teach them. Autumn Assassin was a bit harsh, not exactly sharp but definitely straightforward. Cherri promised it would be okay, though, and Newsie trusted him more than the rest, at least. 

Cherri was almost always there when they were doing lessons as well, taking his own shots at the target. Whether that was for his sake or Newsie’s was debatable, but they didn’t mind his presence. Autumn Assassin corrected him almost as much, and they also made him practice a variety of other weapons. Cherri turned out to be terrifyingly good at shooting, but not bad with the rest either. And Newsie wasn’t as good a shot- almost no one was, except maybe Autumn Assassin- but they enjoyed the other forms of combat

“Thank you,” D told her one day. He was standing next to Newsie and watching Cherri spar with Autumn Assassin, circling each other and fighting like their lives depended on it- they very well might, some day.

“For what?” 

D gestured vaguely around. “Being here.”

They eyed the other somewhat suspiciously. “I haven’t done shit for you.”

“You have for Cherri.” D glanced over at where Autumn Assassin was tackling Cherri into the dust. “He really likes talking to you, and he’s a lot less resistant to taking you on missions than others.” 

“Oh.”

“I’d rather he let me come along,” they continued, “but being willing to take you is a step in the right direction. No offense to you, but you’re inexperienced, and I would feel safer if he would let me help him.”

“He’s a stubborn bastard.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Fuck! Good one!” Autumn Assassin’s nose was bleeding as they and Cherri tromped over, both grinning.

“Got them,” Cherri said proudly. “D, you want to get your ass kicked by Autumn?”

“I’ll kick their ass,” D threatened, but he was smiling too. 

“Try me, bitch boy,” Autumn Assassin deadpanned.

“I will and you know I will.”

“Shooting competition?”

“Don’t pick something you know you can beat me at, coward.” 

“Then draw swords,” Autumn challenged.

Cherri laughed and came to stand next to Newsie as they watched the two older killjoys fight. “Those two have some sort of rivalry going on, I think.” “A friendly one or a ‘they want to stab each other’ one like you and Tommy Chow Mein?”

“Tommy doesn’t want to stab me, I’m his best customer,” Cherri said indigently. “And a friendly one, they’re friends but also enjoy fighting. Although that’s nothing compared to some others, you should see Lily and Autumn really get going, though.”

“Really? Do they hate each other?” Newsie hadn’t seen much of their dynamic, but it seemed more friendly than anything.

“Oh, no, they’re great friends, but they do enjoy trying to beat the shit out of each other.”

They nodded. She was still learning about the dynamics of the household, between the chaotic crews that called themselves the Brit Boys and the Tumbleweed Chasers and Autumn Assassin, between Autumn Assassin and each member of Cherri’s crew, which thus far had no name. Autumn Assassin was head of the household in a fairly clear way, but beyond that, the relationships were hard to pin down.

The dynamics between Cherri’s crew she thought she had down a little bit better. Cherri was very much the baby of the crew- at least he had been until she arrived- and D and Lily had a shared sort of solidarity of having fought in the wars. Both were ridiculously protective of Cherri, and Cherri was protective of them in turn. How intensely he fought was for many reasons, Newsie thought, but protecting his friends had to rank high on there. They hadn’t gone on many missions with more than one of the crew, but the one they had, they had watched Cherri jump between D and a scarecrow despite the older ‘joy’s protests.

So Cherri became more and more of her best friend, and D and Lily almost equally close. They learned things like that Cherri’s favorite color was pink and D liked old music and listened to Metallica and Lily had been a comic book nerd as a kid. And in return, they told their own stories, if quietly and for few ears. How they liked technology (D was very happy with that one, immediately asking if they would help with the radio station) and didn’t have the patience for chess but had learned how to play checkers better than anyone they knew.

While it might have been easy for other people to see only the personas the three (and now four) of them put on, Dr. Death Defying as the confident radio announcer and White Lily the inspiring rebellion leader, while Cherri Cola was a brave sharpshooter, Newsie was never not able to look past that. She hadn’t met Cherri as Cherri Cola, best sharpshooter of the killjoy’s forces, who would later go head to head with exterminators, she had met him as a dorky seventeen year old who drove too fast. Lily had never been White Lily, invincible leader of a rebellion doomed to fail, she had always been Cherri’s friendly roommate, while D had been that tired guy in a brown jacket. Utterly and completely human.

Although Newsie was nowhere as famous as those three yet, they had started to attract notice of their own. NewsAGoGo, radio assistant, that kid who rode with the Trio. Fighting shit with Cherri didn’t help that impression. Because as it turned out, there were consequences for being friends with the three most influential figures of a rebellion, and those consequences included a reputation and dracs constantly trying to get you ghosted. Newsie was getting very good at fighting them off and brushing off the occasional stare or whispered comment. Maybe it wasn’t right that she had to learn, maybe it wasn’t just that a fourteen-year-old had been put in this situation, but this was war. And Newsie learned quickly.

[leesacrakon]

Newsies Short Story #1

Title: Welcome To My Life

Words: 5,070

Summary: Morris has a secret, and it’s tearing him and Oscar apart (Inspired by “Welcome To My Life” by Simple Plan).

WARNING: Contains violence and multiple suicide attempts.

Characters: Oscar an Morris Delancey

"You know, sometimes I don't know how I even try to deal with you!" Morris growled at his younger brother, shoving him back against the wall. Oscar stumbled slightly but quickly straightened up, glaring at his older brother so harshly Morris almost shrank back in fear. "Then why do you, huh? You don't have a reason to!" Oscar snarled. His face paled as Morris drew himself back up again, keeping his expression blank. Oscar found himself backing away from his brother, afraid. He was afraid of the one person who supposedly cared about him.

"I don't, because you're right. There's no reason for me to care about you. You can't carry your own weight, you rely on me for everything... You're absolutely pathetic," Morris spat. He spun on his heels and stormed off, leaving his brother staring after him, his eyes filled with shock and hurt. Oscar buried his head in his hands, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. He wouldn't like something like this bother him. He'd been through worse.

Oscar Delancey tried to keep his signature sneer on his face as he shoved another stack of papes at one of the younger newsies, making them whimper softly and scurry off. Morris laughed at his antics and gave him a grin, but Oscar could see the in-genuineness of it. It was just like his. Oscar quickly looked down as he felt tears beginning to swim, frantically picking up more newspapers and counting them for the next newsie. The hateful glares made Oscar want to cry. He wanted to tell the newises to leave him alone, even though they never really did much to him in the first place. He was always the one to push them around, or knock them to the ground. But none of them understood that he didn't want to do any of that. They didn't understand anything about him.

"Oscar? You alright?" Morris muttered to him under his breath when no one seemed to be near them. Oscar's hands started to tremble, remembering last night. The things his brother had said to him in particular. Oscar was about to reply when he was interrupted by the all-too familiar laugh of Racetrack. Oscar's fists clenched and he braced himself for the usual onslaught of insults that spilled out of Race's mouth non-stop. Oscar tuned Race out as best as he could, but his hands still shook and Morris was still giving him that same concerned look.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," Oscar muttered under his breath.

"Morris, please talk to me! What's going on with you?! You were gone all night! I was worried!" Oscar begged after all of the newsies had left. Morris ignored his younger brother, rolling the platform of leftover newspapers back into The World. He hoped he wasn't shaking, that he didn't look as scared as he felt. Oscar couldn't find out about anything. "Morris!" Oscar shouted, grabbing his older brother by the arm and forcing him to face him. Morris kept his face neutral, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at Oscar. He tensed when he saw how utterly hopeless Oscar looked, how desperate his eyes searched his face for any sign of love.

"You asked me if I was okay. Why? After last night, I thought-" Morris forced a smirk on his face, cutting his brother off when he said, "Oh, I did? Sorry, slip of the tongue. You're fine anyways." And for the second time in too short a time, Morris left his brother behind. But what was different this time was the tears spilling over and rolling slowly down his cheeks.

Morris Delancey slammed the door of the dingy apartment he and Oscar shared with their Uncle shut, breathing heavily and grabbing at his hair. Pulling the lock out from its hiding place, Morris locked the door, jiggling the handle once just to make sure. When he knew it was locked, Morris collapsed into a chair at the table, buried his head in his arms, and started to sob. Hot, wet tears of anger and bitter shame soon soaked the sleeves of his neat white shirt. Morris inhaled sharply before lifting up his head and letting out a scream; a scream filled with frustration, guilt, anger, humiliation, sorrow, apology...

He wanted to run away from all this. He wanted to run away from Oscar, from his horrible Uncle, from this stupid city, from his life. He didn't know why he was being so cruel to his brother. Oscar was literally the only thing good in Morris' miserable excuse for a life. But when it came to hating oneself, no one was really left unharmed. Morris let out another frustrated scream and got to his feet, whirling around and punching the wall so hard the one small picture they owned fell to the floor. Morris didn't even glance at it, instead going over to the mattress he and Oscar shared and pulling out the suitcase from underneath it. Opening, he stared at the contents. Several sets of clothes, the few belongings Morris possessed, including a picture of him and Oscar as kids, a notebook and some pencils,a few dollars, cigarettes, and a small knife.

Morris' hands shook as he picked up the small blade, studying it, before rolling up his sleeves and poising the blade over his wrist. He was shaking more violently, whether it was from anticipation or fear, he had no idea. Morris made one small cut, barely enough to make him bleed, and stopped. Shaking his head, he put the pocket knife away and clicked the suitcase shut, wiping his eyes and sighing. It wasn't time yet. Morris still had a little time left. A little time to make his brother understand.

Oscar let out a small gasp of pain as Morris punched him in the gut, sending him to his knees. He clenched his eyes shut and curled up, bringing up his hands to try and protect his head. Morris kicked and hit him mercilessly, a pained expression on his face the whole time. A pained expression his little brother never noticed, never took the time to care about. When Morris was done he just stood there, watching as Oscar shook slightly and fought back tears. Morris' pained look faded into a dry smile and he kicked Oscar once more for 'good measure'.

"Don't cry. That's showing weakness. You'll never make it if you show weakness," Morris said coldly, moving away from his brother and lying down on their mattress. Oscar tried to get to his feet, but a pain shot through his ribs so bad that he collapsed to the ground, letting out a strangled cry. He thought he heard Morris tell him to shut up, but he couldn't quite tell. It wasn't like he cared anyways. Not anymore.

The newsies thought Oscar Delancey was tough as nails, that he and his brother were thick as thieves. But no, it wasn't like that at all. Oscar thought that he could forgive his brother, but after last night, he couldn't take it anymore. He tried not to wince as he handed newspapers to the newises the next morning despite the pain in his sides. A few gave him questioning looks at the sight of his horrible black eye and swollen lip.

HELP ME! Oscar wanted to scream, SAVE ME! HELP ME! HE'LL KILL ME! Oscar stayed silent. No one was there to protect him anymore. His Uncle had never loved him, even on good days, and all he'd had was Morris as a protector and someone to rely on. Now Oscar didn't have Morris anymore. The newsies all said that they had horrible pasts, that they were scarred and broken and bruised, but none of them knew what it was like, not truly. Not of them had ever gone through the hell Oscar faced every day.

"I HATE YOU!" Oscar screamed, his face filled with absolute rage. Morris ignored him, busying himself by preparing some sort of meal for Oscar, and for himself if there was enough. "Did you hear what I said?!' Oscar snarled, and Morris flinched. He could almost feel the victory rolling off of Oscar in waves. Morris bowed his head and grunted 'accidentally' bumped into him as he walked past to go over to their mattress. Morris' ears were ringing with his brother's words.

I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!

Morris staggered into the apartment, his legs weak as he tried to support his own weight. He'd had another nasty run in with a few very important people. Well, to him they were important. No one else would've even given them a second glance. As he leaned heavily against the table, his eyes fell on the streaked, dirty mirror in front of him. He saw a thug, tough and mean, hardened by the streets. He saw an addict, a horrible older brother, and a vicious, violent man. That's what he always saw when he looked in the mirror. And he hated it.

Morris was sick and tired of being like this. He wanted... something. Something else, he didn't know what. Another chance, maybe? Another life? He knew he wanted his brother back, but that was never going to happen. He was too broken, too messed up to ever fix what he and his brother used to have. His mind blanked and he looked back over to the mattress. His thoughts wandered to the blade inside, so welcoming, and the longing that accompanied those thoughts made Morris shudder. There was no time left. It was over.

Oscar had come home later than usual. He had been looking for Morris all day. His brother had disappeared after he'd gotten into a particularly nasty fight with four guys Oscar had never seen before. Despite what he'd told himself about hating Morris and not caring about whatever happened to him, but this was different. Morris had been practically half dead when he shoved Oscar away and staggered off. Oscar had let him go. When he walked into the door of the apartment that night, the sight he met was something he never thought he'd see before.

"Oh, my God, what are you doing?!" Oscar screamed, running up to his brother and ripping the small bloodied pocket knife out of his hands. Morris' wrists were covered with blood, scars, and fresh deep cuts, but he smiled up at Oscar pleasantly and rolled up his sleeves as if nothing had happened. Oscar stood there, frozen in shock as Morris gently pushed past him towards the basin of water they kept in the corner for cleaning. Oscar stared down at the knife in his hands.

"M-Morris, how long...?" Oscar's voice trailed off and Morris' expression hardened. "Mind your own business, Os," Morris snarled, putting as much venom into the old nickname as he could. Oscar's eyes suddenly started swimming and he shoved Morris as hard as he could, sending him into the wall. Morris gasped slightly and clutched his side, gritting his teeth. Remembering the fight, and the whole reason he was mad in the first place, Oscar launched himself at his brother and hugged him tightly. Morris pushed him away and was out the door seconds later, leaving Oscar alone.

All the newsies noticed how much moodier the Delanceys were that morning as they passed out the papes. They never talked to each other, they never even looked at each other. Morris even punched Oscar a few times, and none too gently either. But Oscar still forced that signature smirk on his face, still shoved the papes towards the newsies as hard as he could. But inside, he was screaming at his brother. He was screaming at him to just open up, to tell him what was wrong, because they were brothers, and they were always there for each other. Morris was hurting, and Oscar couldn't fix it.

"I-I'll pay you back, I swear! I can pay you back!" Morris said desperately, backing away from the men advancing towards him. All three of them were buff, at least three times bigger than Morris, and he knew there was no chance of him beating them. One of them, a fat man with a mop of brown hair plopped onto the top of his head, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him towards him. Morris gagged as he smelled the tobacco and liquor on his breath, the two things that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"That's what you've been telling us for weeks. Now give us the God damn money, or we'll have to take... certain measures," the man said with a growl, and one of the other men smirked, waving his club slightly. A chill went down Morris spine and he screamed, kicking at the man holding him and trying to get out of his grip. The man threw him to the ground and kicked him harshly once, twice, three times. Morris coughed and blood spurted out, his ribs cracking as they broke. Morris screamed for help, but no one was there. No one cared what happened to him. He was just a kid, he didn't matter.

"S-Stop!" Morris begged, crying out as he received another kick to the head. He was seeing stars, the world was spinning, and his vision was starting to go black. The three men left him to lay there on the streets, threatening him with the same thing they did every day: Pay us back or you can say goodbye to that brother of yours. Morris started to shake with sobs. He was so stupid. How could he possibly think he could pay those goons back?! Now... Now Oscar could die because of him.

Oscar found Morris lying on the mattress, breathing heavily as blood pooled from cuts in his wrists. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, most likely from a fight he'd gotten into. Like a robot, Oscar silently took the pocket knife away again and grabbed a cloth. He gently cleaned Morris' wrists, making sure the bleeding stopped before wrapping them in some spare, somewhat clean rags they had. He put a blanket on Morris when he saw how groggy he was. Oscar didn't realize he was crying until he watched Morris fall asleep and felt the tears burn his cheeks.

I'm fine, Oscar.

There's nothing wrong with me, Oscar.

You don't have to worry about me, Oscar.

I'm okay Oscar.

Leave me alone Oscar.

No, I don't owe money Oscar.

I'm not drunk, Oscar.

I don't need you Oscar.

I hate you, Morris.

I wish you'd just die, Morris.

I want a different brother, Morris.

You deserve all this Morris.

Just kill yourself already, Morris.

I don't love you, Morris.

That's all they ever said to each other now. The Delancey brothers lied to each other so often they didn't even know how to tell the truth anymore. Morris still used his knife and still owed them money. He still got beaten on a daily basis by them whenever they found out he couldn't pay them yet. Oscar still hated his older brother as much as he hated himself. He still thought Morris should have finished the job he'd started when Oscar found him that day and helped him like it was just a normal part of their daily routine. They didn't understand yet. They weren't okay yet. And by the way things were looking, they would never be okay again.

"Morris, this needs to stop," Oscar whispered to his brother the next morning. Morris glanced at the cloths wrapped around his wrists and he shook his head. Oscar didn't get it at all, did he? Morris thought Oscar had discovered his secret long ago. He was somewhat grateful that he hadn't, because that meant he could protect Oscar just a little bit longer. He could keep him safe from those horrible men that used him.

"Are you listening to me? Morris, come on!" Morris looked up to meet his brother's gaze, but he found nothing there but anger. And that's when he knew how pointless all of this was. Oscar didn't care about what happened to him, he just didn't want to deal with having a suicidal person in the house. Well, screw him, then!

"I do so much for you," Morris said quietly. "Everything I do is for you. I've tried to get you what you want ever since you were a kid. Can't you let me do something for myself for a change?!" Oscar looked taken aback, gaping at his older brother in horror. "Killing yourself isn't 'doing something for yourself'! God, why are you so selfish?!" Morris' blood ran cold. Him, selfish? Look who's talking! Morris said nothing though, and continued getting ready as if he and his brother had never spoken.

"You're scaring me. I know something's going on. I-I... I see the alcohol and the cigarettes hidden all over the place. I have a few smokes once in a while, but I can't afford anything more than that. I know you're doing something. Are you in debt? I can help you pay it." Morris shot him a glare and Oscar looked down at his feet, gnawing at his lip so much it began to bleed.

"Please, just talk to me, about anything, I don't care what about. I just want to talk to you again," Oscar pleaded with his older brother, his voice so broken sounding that Morris just wanted to end it all right there. He shook his head at Oscar.

"No."

Morris had started to unlock the gates of The World for the newsies, ignoring Oscar's cold glare as he stood beside him. He glanced around, still jumpy from last week's run in with his three dealers, and he practically ran into The World when he finally got the gates unlocked. Both he and his younger failed to notice the three, all too familiar men follow them close behind.

Newsies had begun to file in, but they weren't the ones that caught Morris' attention. The three men from a week ago ambled in after them, attempting to look casual as they surveyed the area. Morris froze, his eyes going wide as one of the men gazed at him, a malicious smirk slowly growing on his face. He backed away slightly, getting concerned looks from both his brother and, to his surprise, a few of the newsies. Oscar put a hand on his shoulder, gazing at him questioningly.

"Hey, you okay? You don't look so good," one of the kinder, newer newsies, Davey, asked Morris with a worried glance. Morris nodded, his eyes never leaving the three men in the doorway. Oscar followed his brother's gaze and his breathing hitched, his grip on his brother's shoulder tightening so much his nails dug into Morris' shoulder. Morris' face paled as the three men slowly began to advance, pushing past some of the newsies trying to reach him.

"No... God, please, no... make them go away..." Morris whimpered in his weak attempt at a prayer. Oscar's look of concern grew and he pushed Morris away. "Go," he hissed, "I'll distract them, alright?" Morris shook his head violently. "No! No, Oscar, they'll kill you!" Morris insisted, his voice breaking. Oscar's brow furrowed in confusion, but he was dashed out of his thoughts as one of the three man grabbed Morris by the front of his shirt, yanking forward so hard he fell right over the platform. A few of the newsies let out exclamations of surprise, and Jack Kelly tried to calm down a few of the younger ones that had begun to cower in fear.

"We gave you a week, Delancey. Hand over the money," the man holding Morris growled. Morris was shaking, his eyes wide in fear. He scrambled away from the man and frantically searched his pockets, coming up with only a dollar or two and shoving it at the man. His eyes hardened and he ripped the money to pieces, grabbing Morris by the back of his shirt and bringing him close, making his legs dangle off the ground. Racetrack's eyes widened and he ran off.

"Put my brother down!" Oscar growled, going over to the man and punching him as hard as he could. Morris stared at his brother in horror as the man grinned, dropping Morris and turning to him. "So, this is your brother, eh? Well, a deal's a deal, Morris. If you can't pay in full... Well, Oscar's about to find out," the man said with a chuckle. The newsies had backed away from the commotion and were watching with slight fascination, some of them looking agitated or confused, Oscar included. What was going on?

"No! Please, don't hurt him! I-I get paid today! I'll give you that and then you'll get the rest later!" Morris begged, getting up to his knees and bowing his head, his hands clasped as if he were in prayer. Oscar gaped at his brother's humiliating position, but his shock was soon replaced by anger. These men were the reason his brother had been so horrible to him. They were the reason Morris had been trying to kill himself, why he'd wasted all his money on booze and cigarettes, just like their father. Just as Oscar was about to stand up for his brother, the man kicked Morris as hard as he could, sending him sprawled across the ground. Oscar gasped.

"Stop! Don't hurt him!" Oscar cried. The other two men grabbed him from behind him and pulled him away kicking and screaming as the other resumed his treatment of Morris. Oscar looked around at the newsies pleadingly. Why weren't they helping?! Oscar screamed in terror as Morris coughed up blood, his knees giving out as he collapsed to the ground. The men laughed and the ones holding Oscar grabbed him by the hair and forced him to watch Morris. Tears filled Oscar's eyes as the man mercilessly kicked Morris' side, making him cough up more blood. Oscar sobbed when he picked Morris up off the ground, kneeing him in the stomach before throwing him against the wall.

"Hey! That's enough! Give the kid a break!" Davey suddenly piped up, emerging from the crowd of newsies and hesitating before walking up to the man and glaring up at him, his hands on his hips. The man let out a small chuckle and patted Davey on the head. Morris tried to stand up, but he gave a small shout of pain and fell to the ground again. Oscar lowered his head in shame and tried not to cry, starting to shake as the man turned back to his brother.

Racetrack arrived with the police moments later, shouting profanities and curses as he spotted Morris getting beat on the ground. The police officers immediately launched themselves at the men, getting Oscar out of the grip of the other two and dragging away the man that had been beating Morris, putting all of them in cuffs. Oscar rushed to his brother's side and helped him to his feet, letting him lean heavily against him. Oscar nodded to the officers in thanks as they led the three men away. Specs was quick to offer to sell to the rest of the newsies while Oscar took Morris home, and Oscar agreed to the arrangement.

"What the hell was that about?!" Oscar asked, his tone laced with fear and, of course, slight annoyance. Morris stared at the ground, trembling as his little brother glared harshly at him. He let out a sob and Oscar's gaze softened slightly. He pulled Morris closer to him and hugged him gently, tears beginning to gather in his eyes once again as Morris started to sobbed openly, burying his face in his brother's shoulder and clinging to him like a lifeline.

"Morris, what's happened to you?" Oscar whispered, cradling the back of Morris' head and keeping his other arm wrapped around him securely. Morris didn't reply, which didn't surprise Oscar in the slightest, and he waited to ask him again. As Morris began to calm down and his sobs slowed to hiccups and the occasional whimper, Oscar led him to the table and sat him down in a chair, sitting next to him and grabbing his hand. Oscar didn't even have to ask this time, Morris launching into an explanation almost immediately.

"I've been so horrible to you in these past few months, and I bet you want to know why, right?" Morris murmured. Oscar nodded quickly. Morris took a shaky breath before continuing. "Those three men... I owe them a lot of money. I ran into them about a month ago; they'd gotten me out of a pinch with the police and asked me for money in return. I gave them what I had. I found out later that they sold cigarettes and alcohol real cheap. At the time I was just... I was really at a low point. I was becoming aware of what I was doing to the newsies, and I wanted to find a way to distract myself from that. So I bought as much as I could from them. They gave me extra, worth about fifty dollars, and told me to pay them back in three weeks. That was just the start of it." Morris' voice had lowered to a whisper, and he looked away from Oscar so he didn't see he was crying.

"I paid them. I stole some of your money, snagged a few wallets here and there, and used my own to do it. But I'd dug myself into a hole. I-I couldn't... I couldn't even function right unless I smoked a cigarette. I would start shaking and everything if I went without one for too long. Eventually I owed them so much money that I wouldn't be able to pay them back even after years of work." Morris' hands were trembling and Oscar tightened his grip on the hand he held, listening intently to what his brother had to say. He knew there had to be more.

"That was the first time I tried to kill myself. I found a pocket knife in an alleyway one time and I... I tried to... you know. It didn't work obviously; I'm still here. They kept cornering me from then on. They beat me when they found out I didn't have their money. They said-" Morris' voice broke and he swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. "They said if I didn't pay them back they'd kill you." Oscar's face went slack and he straightened, his grip on Morris' hand loosening until he let go completely.

"I wanted to make you understand what was happening to me, but I was so scared you would hate me when you found out. I tried so many times to die so you wouldn't be in danger anymore, so that I just wouldn't have to deal with it all, but you... you saved me every. Single. Time. Even after you told me you hated me, and you made me feel like nothing would ever be okay between us ever again, you still kept helping me. I just wanted to die and you wouldn't let me! I... I don't understand why..." Morris looked back to his brother, expecting so see anger, or fear, or maybe even indifference, but that's not what he saw at all. Oscar's eyes were filled with so much pain that Morris wished he could turn back time, so Oscar had never heard what he said, so he was still sheltered about what a broken piece of crap his older brother was.

"All this time, and you never told me." I know Oscar, I'm so sorry. "You hurt me. You beat me up so bad sometimes I couldn't even stand." Morris flinched and clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. "But I still loved you." Morris' eyes shot open and he gaped at his brother in shock. Oscar was stone faced, but his eyes were glistening. "You left me in the dark, and I hated it, but I thought I hated you. But I just hated that you didn't trust me enough to tell me what was wrong. It hurt me so much whenever I found you... bleeding. I thought I was going to lose you," Oscar finished, and he let the tears fall, feeling no shame at all.

"Please... Please don't leave me," Oscar whispered. " I know I screwed up. I should have asked you, I should have made you tell me what was wrong. This is my fault, and I'm so sorry. But I can make it up to you, I swear. So please don't leave me," Oscar choked out. Morris grabbed his younger brother's hand, looking him in the eye as best as he could. He couldn't believe Oscar thought all of this was his fault. That was the stupidest, most absurd thing Morris had ever heard in his life. Being eighteen, he'd heard a lot. He tugged Oscar towards him and hugged him tightly, burying his head in his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere."