You're leaning against a faded brick wall, staring out at the streets of Manhattan. It's a quiet fall afternoon, the wind blowing the few remaining leaves down against the ground. It'll start getting cold soon, and the winter that follows will be hard, just like all the winters before it and all the winters to come. All the same, you've got enough good memories stored up from the past summer to make it through until the frost breaks.
A sound echoes up from the alleyway next to you, and, curious, you glance towards the opening. Seeing nothing, you shrug and turn back to the street. A few moments later, the sound comes again, and you groan.
"Romeo, if it's you again I swear I'm going to soak you."
When a newsie casually swings around the corner to stand by you, though, your annoyed look drops in an instant. This boy, carelessly holding a tattered newsie cap in his hands, is not Romeo but Race.
He quirks an eyebrow at the surprised look on your face. "What, expecting someone else? How many times has Romeo dropped by today?"
You can't help an annoyed laugh. "Way too many times. He keeps thinking that if he tries out his same few pickup lines enough times, he'll get somewhere with 'em."
Race grins. "And will he? Get somewhere, I mean."
You snort. "If I was in the market for some thirteen year old kid hanging off my shoulder whenever I so much as smiled, I would have told him so already. Seeing as I haven't, I think my answer is pretty clear."
Race laughs too. "Can you blame him? We'd all fall to our knees for one of your smiles, Y/N."
He clasps his hat dramatically to his chest when he says this, the perfect picture of melodrama. You give him a look and swat him with one of the newspapers from your bag.
"If you don't quit it, I'll start avoiding you just like I do with Romeo."
Race pretends to pout. "You're not being very supportive of my dreams, Y/N."
You raise an eyebrow. "And what dreams could those be?"
Race flashes you a wink. "To get the prettiest newsie girl here to notice me, obviously."
He straightens up and continues on his usual pape-selling path to the city, only grinning more broadly when you yell at his back that you're the only newsie girl, so his dream doesn't matter much anyway. He waves goodbye without looking back, and you watch him go.
Once you're certain that he can't see you anymore, you allow yourself to slump back against the wall with a silly grin on your face. You've been crushing on Race for a while now, you can admit that to yourself. However, you do know that Race flirts with everyone to cross his path, especially friends like you, so no matter what he says about dreams or otherwise, he'd never once look at you. You know that, but it still makes your heart skip a beat to see him grin at you like you're something worth seeing.
Here's the problem, though: he keeps trying. Last night, when the lamps were burning low and most of the younger kids had dragged themselves off to bed through eyelids already half-closed, Race had sat with you the entire night. It was just the two of you then, just the two of you talking and laughing and pretending you didn't see the meaningful glances Albert and Jojo kept shooting Race whenever his arm lingered around your shoulders for a little too long.
If you were smart, you'd stop this right now. You've got somewhat of a reputation around the newsies for not letting any insult slide, a halfway step between the camaraderie of the 'Hattan newsies and the ruthless punches of the Brooklyn boys. You've shut down Romeo many times before, you've ignored Finch's best attempts to keep you close, and politely declined Tommy Boy's offer to get dinner sometime at the Deli.
Needless to say, you don't see your fellow newsies as anything other than friends who work with you. That's why you should know better than to let Race stick around, especially because he's never been serious about anything in his life other than when someone steals his cigar or jacks the pape prices, but you can't seem to settle on this.
So, one night when you're standing out on one of the rickety fire escapes and Race comes up next to you, you let him stay. You let him stare out over the moonlit city next to you, you let him pull you close when you shiver from the night chill. And, when Race looks at you like nothing else matters but you and him, you don't push him away when he kisses you. Hell, you kiss him back. It's the greatest rush you've ever felt, and it's perfect.
In the days to follow, you swear you're the happiest you've been in a very long time. Race catches up to you when you're out selling papes, and kisses you behind the folds when you think nobody is looking. He lends you his caps, just to see how they'll look on you. He tucks either stolen or borrowed wildflowers behind your ear, and smiles to see them there a few hours later.
All the same, you can't shake the feeling that it's not quite right. Everything seems too planned, too perfect. Doesn't that mean that this is good? Maybe, but you don't miss the looks between Race and his friends whenever you walk in the Lodging House together, or the way he seems to pull himself back from something whenever he sees another newsie approaching the two of you.
It was worse at the beginning. Can you say that? If Race Higgins ever doubted something in his wild, free life, it happened at the start of your relationship. As time went on, though, he seemed to let himself live a little, like he was finally believing that something like this would work. Right now, a week or so later, he laughs like he means it, and so do you.
You still find yourself doubting something, though. Maybe that's why you hold back when you notice Race entering a room in deep conversation with Albert and Jojo. You're a little farther down the hall, so he doesn't see you, but you see him. You see the way Race anxiously moves his hands when he talks, the way his brow furrows and his eyes shine with guilt.
Somewhere in your head, an alarm bell is going off. So, you draw closer to the door, and press your back against the wall outside as you listen. The more you hear, the more you want to close your eyes and shut down, never to feel a thing again.
Race's voice stands out above the noise of the city. "I don't know, guys. I know what we said at the beginning, but still."
Albert speaks now. "What is there to think about? I mean, you've already won, man. You bet us that you could get Y/N to catch feelings for you and you did. The way I see it, Jojo and I should be the ones coming up with excuses. We're the ones who owe you money, right?"
Jojo seconds this. "Yeah, the bet is done. You won."
Race cracks a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I did."
You don't know if he says anything more, if they list the money Race has won in this twisted game. All you know is that you're turning and running, through the hall and back down the stairs. You run past the surprised newsies who've started to trickle into the Lodging House at the end of the day, dodging their questioning stares and half-raised hands.
You're used to running, aren't you? You've run from the cops, you've run from the Delanceys when they jumped you by surprise, but you've never run like this, knowing it's not worth anything but tearing your lungs to shreds anyways. All the distance in the world couldn't separate you from the words echoing around in your head. It was all fake, all of it.
You knew, didn't you? You suspected something. You never would have guessed something like this, but you knew that something was wrong. When your legs finally give out and you collapse against the sidewalk in a nearby alleyway, just far enough inside the shadows for no one else to see you but not too far in case someone sees you and decides to make it worse by trying to rid you of your last few cents.
Then the tears come, making your shoulders shake like the trees lining the block when that big storm came a few years ago. You feel like you're going to tear yourself in half from the sobs wracking your shoulders, but even that relief doesn't come. The salt of your utter anguish stains your tongue, dripping off of your cheeks and down your hands. You cry, and cry, and no one cares.
At last, when the tears finally dry and you're left to prop yourself up against the brick wall of the alleyway, your mind drifts from its post-cry haze and back towards that scene in the hall. Race and the others had admitted it themselves- you were never anything more to the blond boy but a deal, something he could set a price on and see how long it would take to win.
After a few minutes, you hear footsteps and see someone stop walking in front of you. Some foolish, stupid part of your heart hopes to see Race, but when you slowly tilt your head up, you see Crutchie standing in front of you instead. He frowns at the sight of you, and sits down with some difficulty, propping his crutches up against the wall next to him.
You manage to croak out a greeting. "How'd you know where I was?"
Crutchie shrugs. "A few kids saw you running and got worried that you'd been hurt or something. If I could run that far that fast, I'd want to get as far away as I could, so that's where I looked. You want to tell me what's wrong?"
You shake your head slightly. "Promise me you won't get Jack involved."
Crutchie rolls his eyes. "If I had a penny for every time I'se been able to solve things without Jack Kelly, I'd be rich enough to buy the whole newspaper company."
You frown. "Really?"
He grins. "Might be a slight exaggeration, but still. My lips is sealed."
You smile in spite of yourself, although it fades away quickly as you remember just how you got here. "I was dumb enough to fall in love with Race, and I thought he liked me back, but I just found out the whole thing was just because Albert and Jojo bet him that he couldn't make me feel something for him."
Crutchie winces. "Ouch."
You raise a finger in agreement. "Ouch is right."
Crutchie frowns. "It's weird, though. I never heard about the bet, or I'd have soaked him for sure, but I always thought Race had something for you."
You glance over at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. Davey and I thought he'd never say a thing 'cause he thought you'd hit him or something. Guess I was wrong."
Crutchie sits for a second longer, then stands awkwardly, grabbing his crutches before extending a hand to you. "Come on, it's getting dark. I doesn't think anyone knows why you left so fast, so you can pretend you left your hat here or something."
You stand up too, and smile at him. "Thanks, Crutchie."
He nods at you, smiling back. "Of course, Y/N. And if it were up to me, I'd say that you're worth a good two or three of them any day."
You raise an eyebrow. "I don't think you're supposed to have favorites, Crutchie."
He snorts. "Oh, you're not my favorite. Les is, I watched him con Mr. Wiesel out of a whole dollar one time and it was great-"
You stare at him, outraged, although you can't hide a laugh. For a moment there, you almost forget about why you were so upset in the first place.
Almost.
By the time you get back to the Lodging House, night has fallen in the streets, and you blink for a moment in the sudden bright light of your home. Crutchie excuses himself to go talk to Specs about a selling point, and you've barely taken a few steps inside before Race rushes up to you. He looks stressed, and sighs with relief when he sees you.
"Y/N, thank God, I've been wondering where you were. You know how late it was? Some of the boys said they saw you running out of here, and I was worried."
You meet his eyes coolly. "Actually, Race, I've been needing to talk to you about something."
His grateful smile drops. "Sure, Y/N, what do you want to talk about?"
You jerk your head toward the hall. "Not here."
On your way through the main room of the Lodging House, you notice Albert and Jojo in a corner, talking to themselves. They look a little uneasy, and when they meet your eyes and notice the cold hatred in your gaze, they almost wince. They know, don't they? They must know that you've figured it out by now.
You stop walking when you find an empty room, and almost laugh to notice that it's the same room you overheard Race talking to the other boys a while ago. Does he notice it too? When you turn back to face him, Race looks vaguely uneasy.
"What's wrong, Y/N? You seem upset."
You look back at him, gaze level. "I'm surprised you noticed, Race. I would have thought you'd be too happy over the fact that you won the bet to even think about me at all."
Race frowns. "Y/N, what are you talking about-"
His voice drops off as he realizes what you mean. "Oh."
You tilt your head to the side. "Oh?"
Race nods lamely. "You know, then."
You fold your arms across your chest. "That's it? That's all the explanation I get? No wonder you were able to take that bet on, Race, you couldn't care less about how I feel. I felt so stupid to have believed that I was anything more than a joke to you, and you've been just fine."
You move to leave the room. Clearly, Race couldn't spare a second thought towards what happened. He's got his money anyways, doesn't he? No need for further words. However, he still catches at your arm to stop you from going.
"Wait, Y/N. It's not like that."
You scoff. "I know that's what it's like, Race, I heard you talking to them about it."
He winces. "That's why you left the Lodging House?"
At your nod, his face turns ashen, and he takes another step towards you. "Y/N, I didn't mean for you to hear that, honest. I don't know what you heard, but I stopped the bet from going any further. I don't want this to change anything."
This time you can't stop a bitter laugh from leaving you. "What, you don't think me finding out that you've been betting money on the fact that you could get me to fall for you would change how I feel? Jeez, Race, what else could it do? No, I don't care what else you said. Don't talk to me again."
You leave for the door again. Race's voice takes on a shade of panic. "Wait, don't leave. Please. I stopped the bet because I realized I wasn't faking anything. I love you, Y/N. That's real. This is real. Don't break this, please."
You hesitate by the doorframe. This is what you've been wanting to hear for a long time, isn't it? He loves you.
But you've learned a lot in the past few hours, and one of those is that a heart never truly heals. So, you look over your shoulder one last time.
"If you loved me, you wouldn't have hurt me like this."
You just have time to see his heart crack in two before you turn and leave.
Albert and Jojo come up to you the next day, saying something about how it's true and Race made them cancel the bet that day. You barely hear them, and keep moving despite their pleas to listen to them. Race tries to talk to you again, but all it takes is one desperate glance towards Crutchie and your friend quickly gets you out of there. It hurts, all of it, but nothing hurts more than that one moment, out in the hall of the Lodging House, when you heard Race declare that it was all just a deal between friends.
The days pass, though, and it hits you how alone you feel. It's not the same without him, no matter how much you'd like to pretend that it is. Eventually, you realize that your missing him hurts more than the knowledge that Race tried to con you out of your own heart.
So, one night, when you find yourself on a rickety fire escape staring out at the stars and Race joins you, you don't push him away. Instead, you turn to look at him for the first time in a few weeks.
"If you love me, prove it."
Race doesn't try to kiss you or hold your hand or anything that anyone else could do.
Instead, he talks. He talks about how bright your smile was whenever he brought you your favorite flowers all cupped in a newspaper page, how you always ran fastest when you stole his newsboy cap and took off down the block so he couldn't catch you without his lungs almost burning away, how he saw you in every face he passed on the street after you found out the truth. At the end, he tells you that he loves you again, and this time, you believe it. This time, you don't walk away, and this time, the two of you stay. You're not sure how long it will take you to fully trust him again, but he's still here for you. For you, for Race, that is enough.