Because I am Never Okay after watching a show at midnight, as well as after running out of content for said show, I hope I can channel all my Midnight Emotions into writing something here.

It's really the end of this that really matters. Now, all I need to do, is make it worth while until then. So... Enjoy! :)

Fall is always a weird in-between season. It's too cold to be summer, but not miserable enough to be winter. Yet they are pretty much half way through fall now. An even weirder point in time.

Today, something just...doesn't feel right for Race. He tries to ignore it. But whatever it is is making his mood dark and gloomy like the clouds overhead. The worst part is that he doesn't know what caused him to feel this way. 

Luckily, there are many ways to try and fix it.

If he meets up with Spot at Sheepshead, surely it'll all go away.

And for some time, the feeling does go away. Race tries to forget about it. 

With Spot smiling next to him as they sit in his box together, he just might be able to.

Race focuses on the horses. It's going to be a really close call of who will cross the finish line first, he can tell. Those two horses are neck and neck. It's really unclear which one will be in first place. But it's the things like that that makes all of this interesting, and very fun to watch.

You can practically feel the anticipation of the crowd.

Race leans forward. He's not alone in that.

Suddenly, there's a rumble of thunder and rain starts pouring. Everyone starts standing up.

"Come on." Spot grabs Race's hand. "Let's get out of here."

"But the races-"

"I think they'se cancelled for today," Spot tells him firmly. "What we need to do, is to get out of the storm."

Without any reason to argue or complain, Race lets Spot lead him out of Box A (his box) and to wherever he plans to go after that.

Race loves the rain. If he could, he would stay out here forever. But thunder is never a good sign. Besides, Spot is determined to get them somewhere dry.

Turns out wherever he plans to go is the Brooklyn Newsies' Lodging House.

Race can honestly say that he's never been here before.

Spot gestures to the lodging house. "As you can see, here we are, in front of the place all the Brooklyn newsies call home. I ... was kinda hoping that the first time you'd come here, it'd be under different circumstances. But we're kinda out of options now."

"It's all good."

"Want a tour?" Spot offers.

Race can tell that this is something Spot wants. And now he wants to get out of the rain. "Sure!" He's always wanted to see inside the Brooklyn lodging house as well, and compare the differences between where he stays in Manhattan and where Spot stays in Brooklyn.

Spot opens the door. "Well, here it is."

When he walks inside, Race tries to take in everything at once. He always does. He can't help it. The ceiling above him. The floor below him. Where there are light bulbs. Where there is wooden floor and where there is carpet. There's some furniture scattered here and there, and discarded playing cards. It's clear that people live here. It truly isn't that different from Manhattan.

"There's not much here," Spot tells him. "This is just where we'se hang out and stuff. But most of the newsies here are restless. They prefer being down by the docks anyway. The storm'll bring 'em in soon enough. Wanna go upstairs before they all come in?"

"Alright."

They walk up the stairs.

Race feels his mood drop again, just like this morning. What is wrong with me? He wishes he knew.

Spot seems to sense the change of mood. "What's wrong?"

Race shakes his head and looks away. "Nothing."

"Race," Spot says in a low tone, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

Race tries to shake him off. "It's nothing. Really."

Spot knows not to agitate Race right now. The last thing he needs is Race to have his senses overwhelmed. So he drops it. For now. If this doesn't stop, he will say something about it.

For now, Race can shake it off. He puts his mind towards other things. He's here. Right now. With Spot. It's raining. Spot's here. They're in the Brooklyn lodging house. Race is going to have to go home. Eventually. That thought can be filed away though.

Once they reach the top of the stairs, Spot starts pointing out rooms. "Those are where the newsies bunk."

"That's a lot of rooms."

"Yeah, we're kinda a big borough. And there are different circles of friend groups and ages in different places. Not anything really regulated--it's all their choices." He gestures to a room at the end of the hall. "Back there is where I sleep."

"It really shouldn't surprise me that Brooklyn's leader has a whole room to himself," Race remarks with a sly grin.

Spot rolls his eyes good naturedly and smiles in return. "Come on."

Once they reach the end of the hall, Spot opens the door, and motions for Race to walk in. "When first coming here, I wasn't really planning on staying here. But this is where my cousin lived. And, as I became more and more like him, as the older newsies said, they urged me to stay here. So, I moved in, and been here ever since."

Race takes in this room. There's a window, and a bed against the wall, a bureau beside it, and everything else expected of a bedroom. Not too shabby, but not filthy rich either. Really modest. 

"I like it," Race announces. "It's really nice."

Spot smiles. "Glad you like it."

Race faces the window, away from Spot. The down-feeling has hit him. Again. He flicks his tongue out-in. Not here. Not now. Go away.

"Race, you okay?" Spot asks, concerned.

"I'm fine." See what you did? You made someone worry over you over nothing.

"It's okay if you aren't okay. You know that, right?"

"But I am okay." I'm not a burden. I'm not a burden. Stop worrying about me. I'm fine.

"You don't seem fine. Did something happen? Was it the storm? Or leaving Sheepshead so fast? Or a mix of both?"

"I told you, I'm fine." His voice, however, has different plans. "Just forget about it." I'm worrying you over nothing. It's literally nothing. I want to be done with this now. Why can't I be done with this now?

"Not until I know what's going on."

"But I don't know what's going on!" Race cries out. With that emphasis in his sentence, his anger lashes out and he stomps his foot.

In any other circumstance, his immediate reaction to him doing that would be surprise at himself, followed by then feeling childish, then feeling shame.

But none of those other circumstances involve the board underneath his foot coming loose when he brought his foot down.

He jumps back.

The words constrict in his throat. There are a thousand things he should probably be saying right now. But both he and Spot are too shocked and surprised to say anything.

Race feels his ears heat up. This is not how he wanted today to go. At all.

Spot looks at the loose board. There's something...off about it.

He crouches down.

"Spot I'm sorry-" Race manages to get out.

"Wait."

Race closes his mouth right away. Not knowing exactly what Spot is getting at by examining the board, Race crouches down beside him.

Tentatively, Spot pulls up the board.

And underneath, they find what must be a million different papers, some complete, some just clippings, from all kinds of books/newspapers/letters/etc where they use paper; along with many other small random objects ... all stashed away from a world of prying eyes--and most importantly, hidden away from Them.

AAA SO HOW WAS THAT ENDING?!

Keep in mind I finished that last sentence ten minutes past 2:00 am, so if it's not a good cliffhanger, then oops haha.

We finally get to learn more about Them. I've literally been building this up for 44 chapters. And, finally, for chapter 45, ALL will be explained. And because I'm nice and a good (great? maybe?) author, I'm posting that chapter along with this one. You're welcome! :)

Well, not ALL will be explained. I can't reveal EVERY single secret well before the climax, now can I?

Does anyone else get those weird feelings where you can't quite place it but you're not in a good mood? Like you want to be in one, but there's just something stopping you? And then people start asking about it and literally nothing is wrong? Somehow, that worked for the story.

Okay so somehow the weird way my brain works actually brought this chapter together. I had little inspiration, but I knew what I wanted to have, so I wrote in moments, like jumped around for different parts, and then I filled them in to be complete, and connect them all, and somehow, I got this thing.

Research moments: Lightbulbs were invented in 1879. Bureaus were invented in the 17th century. I knew both were old, I just wanted to know how old for the sake of this story haha.

Excerpt from my notes on this story (that are I don't know how old now): When Race and Spot are in Spot's bedroom, the king of Brooklyn's room, they find all of Stargazer's old letters and notes and suddenly all they knew was no longer true.

I hope that is intriguing enough for you to read on to the next chapter! :)

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at all times.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who watched What If...? and the last two episodes of The Owl House and used writing as a coping mechanism but should probably try and sleep now...)