Work Text:
Very few days were as somber as this. Somber may not have even been the correct word, nothing like this had ever happened before. Jack wasn’t just grief-stricken, he was grief-shot down . He hadn’t left the lodging house for days, dipping into his Santa Fe fund. The fund that was supposed to be for him and Crutchie. The fund that might’ve made Crutchie better if he just held on.
Hell, every leader of every borough came by. No one could do anything to make Jack.. Jack again. Crutchie was a vital piece of him, in more ways than anyone knew until he was gone.
It was quick, Crutchie didn’t suffer much. That they could be grateful for. Because seeing this witty ball of sunshine suffer with no one to soak for it, that just wasn’t the newsie way. Pooling together money wasn’t hard, until the money stopped pooling. The medication was only for the pain anyways, God would do the job that in two weeks time.
~~~~
Jack hadn’t cried yet today. I was..surprised, to say the least. Not like he had cried much these past few days, but today made it permanent. Crutchie was dead, and his coffin was being shipped off to Hart Island within the hour.
“Jack? You almost ready to go?” I peek my head up into the penthouse. He’s staring out onto the land of Manhattan, his kingdom. Their kingdom.
“He’s gone, Dave. Really gone .” He’s crying. Shit, he’s crying. “Really thought he was gonna make it, too. He survived the Refuge, Davey. Why couldn’t he just hold on until we made it to Santa Fe?”
“I..I don’t know, Jack. But I’m sure he’s up there, swimming the whole Rio Grande, and planting crops, spilling rails and waiting for ya.” I’m waiting for you, Jack. I want to tell him, pull his lips into mine, and never separate them. I’ve had crushes before, but this isn’t a crush. This is a love . I love Jack Kelly. And here he is, crying over his love for someone else.
“We should get going..” Jack sniffles, smoothing his shirt. I nod. This is when I would take his hand, that is if he loved me. If he wanted me.
Instead, he makes sure I make it down the ladder, and slides down once my feet touch the ground. Everyone else is heading down later, to give Jack some time. Even Spot cleared the docks for him, making it seem like a real funeral. The funeral Crutchie deserved.
I should’ve left him alone. Let him say his goodbyes. But this..pining in me, this undying love, this addiction-like Race with his cigar. It’s not that he craved the tobacco, well he did, but he really craved the consistency, the comfort. And maybe that’s what I saw in Jack. I would always love him, and I would crave being within a few inches of him, seeing those honey caramel eyes, the way they crinkle when he smiles.
When he smiles at Crutchie.
He smiled at me, too.
Not like he smiled at Crutchie .
Shut up.
“What did you say?” Jack looks over at me.
“Blazes, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” I turn to him, my heart pumping enough blood to drive us to the docks in a few seconds. Jack raises his eyebrows, showing off more of those beautiful eyes.
Dammit, David Jacobs. One of your closest friends is grieving another one of your friends and you’re too busy admiring him?
The sun makes the beaten up planks that we call a dock shine. I let Jack walk ahead, listening as his steps grow farther from me and closer to the coffin. I want to look away, my heart nearly demands it, but it’s just so..sad. There’s not a better word for it.
The ladies walking by would probably whisper “bless his heart” and “poor thing”. He was being strong, even though you couldn’t tell by looking at him. He was kneeling over that coffin, his eyes were puffy, his hands shaky. Most of the guys who lose a friend, lose themselves soon after. Jack hadn’t started drinking, or gambling, or smoking, or getting into fights more than usual. Maybe that would happen.
Or maybe it would find him being the same, everything he wanted to change about himself becoming permanent. Maybe he wouldn’t go to Santa Fe, maybe he would be stuck here, forever. Because he knows, Santa Fe won’t be worth it if he can’t take his palomino-riding best friend with him.
I couldn’t leave him alone to grieve. Crush or not he’s still my closest friend. He’s the one guy that actually stood up for me when I became a newsie.
Unioned we stand, newsies forever.
I approach the coffin. And when I say approach, I do mean approach, like it is a ticking bomb that could explode in my face at any given second.
Am I doing the right thing?
What if Jack wants to be alone?
What if Jack hates you for this?
What if-
No. He didn’t just say that. There’s no way. It’s not real. This all a dream, a facade, he didn’t mean it!
Oh, but he did.
I was so caught up in my own selfish thoughts, I barely heard Jack’s whisper, his proclamation of love. To Crutchie, not to me. That was assumed.
“I know I never really told ya..I meant to, I just..I got nervous, ya know?” His thick New York accent says through broken sobs and sniffles. “Maybe it’s wrong, but I love you. Not as a brother-wait, I do, I just..God, you got me stuttering and stumbling..” he chuckles at his deceased friend still making him nervous. “I know that I was like a brother to you. But I..I wanted to be more than that. And I hope you wanted to, too. I’m gonna miss ya, but..” he starts sobbing again. Composing himself, he finishes.
“I love you, Charlie Morris. Your lover, Francis Sullivan.”
The ship has sailed. That’s it. Jack Kelly will never love another again, let alone me. And even if he does somehow fall in love, his heart still belongs to the boy that’s resting on Hart Island.
And the worst part is, I could never hate Crutchie. Envy him, maybe, but never hate. He was too good to Jack, too perfect for him. They were soulmates, they are still soulmates, even if one of them is gone. I could never hate a person who made Jack feel that good.
So, I cry. Not for Crutchie’s death, the injustice of the world, or my own selfish envy. I cry because I know I, too, will never love another like Jack Kelly.
I love you, Jack Kelly. Your brother, Davey Jacobs .