- Chapter 136 - Not Fine and Not Okay -
Warnings: death angst, major character death, slight overstimulation, crying, worry, trouble processing
Canon Era
Third Person POV

Note: Yeah, I'm so sorry in advance for this, but I got the idea and impulsivity got the best of me, so...
Sorry lol.
You know, I could've chosen to write fluff and I decided against it.
So, sorry again! Enjoy! (Because people seem to like my death angst anyway, even if it makes them cry lol.)

Dead.

Dead as a doornail.

Deader than yesterday's paper.

Race didn't even know if "deader" was a word.

He didn't know anything. His mind couldn't remember anything.

Anything but that horrid image and the fact that this brother was dead.

Jack was dead.

There were a million ways to phrase it, but it didn't change the fact.

Jack was gone and would never come back.

Race sat on a bunk in the bunk room.

The silent bunk room.

There were other people in the bunk room. Or- maybe there weren't.

Race wasn't sure.

There was one thing Race was sure of, and he didn't want to be sure of it.

Race sat there, his shoulders sagged and him staring at the floor.

It was like he was trying to process this information, but yet... he knew he was gone.

Jack was never coming back.

A sound.

A loud ring.

Race's head shot up at the familiar noise.

The doorbell.

Race quickly got up. He opened the door to the room, pausing when he was about to leave. He closed the door a bit.

A terrible screeching noise came from the door.

Race cringed. It was loud—painfully loud—in the silent house. He quickly let go of the door and left the room.

There were Newsies downstairs.

His brothers.

Jack was his brother too.

But these boys were alive. They were his alive brothers.

Jack was dead.

Race ignored his thoughts and walked to the door.

There were eyes on him.

Too many eyes.

They needed to mind their own business. They needed to stop watching him.

Race shuddered and opened the door. He winced at the sound of the creaky door and wondered why everything in the house was so loud and creaky.

More Newsies.

But these weren't Manhattan Newsies. These weren't his brothers.

Leaders.

Jack was a leader.

But Jack was dead.

Race frowned when the realization dawned on him that he was the leader now. He cleared his throat. "Why are you here?" he asked, trying to sound fine.

But he didn't sound fine. His voice came out as a croak and it sounded like he had been crying.

But he hasn't been crying. Why did it sound like that when he hadn't been crying?

Jack didn't cry much.

Jack was always fi-

"Racer."

Race's head snapped up.

Match watched him, uneasy. "Race? Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Is this a bad time?" Craft, Woodside's leader, asked. Her voice was gentle and kind, like usual. "We can come back later," she offered. "We just wanted to check in, see how you all are."

"We're here for you if you need us," Pack reminded Race, his eyes soft.

Race looked at them, his eyebrows furrowed.

There was an emotion in their eyes, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

Why were they looking at him like that?

Race frowned when he realized what the emotion was.

Pity.

They pitied him.

The thought made him swallow hard. "I'm fine," he muttered, looking away.

Making eye contact felt hard.

He didn't know why it felt hard.

It always felt easy to make eye contact with Jack.

"Race,"

A familiar voice.

Painfully familiar.

Race knew that voice. He looked up.

Spot.

Spot was there.

Spot Conlon, Race's longtime crush and Jack's close friend.

Jack and Spot were close, no matter how the two acted around each other or what anyone tried to say.

They went to each other for advice on leader stuff and always helped each other out.

Race tasted a bitter flavor in his throat. He shuddered. "Hi, Spot." He looked around at all of the Newsies there. "Do you need something?"

"We just wanted to check in," Match informed him softly. "This is a hard loss. We want to help, if we can."

Race swallowed.

"This is a hard loss."

They had no idea how hard of a loss it was.

Jack was one of the first people who cared about him. He was the one who found him, alone and freezing in that alleyway after he ran from his father.

Race shook his head. "Can you please stop looking at me like that?" he muttered.

Spot frowned. "We're not trying bother you or look at you bad, Racer," he tried to tell him.

"Well, you're looking at me with that- that look in your eye," Race snapped a bit, even though he didn't mean to. "Stop it. I'm not a kid who needs your sympathy," he told them, desperately trying to get them to stop. "There are other Newsies here; go check up on them." He pointed to the other Newsies in the room.

A few of the Newsies outside exchanged a look.

"We were just trying to check in, Race," Pack tried to tell him calmly and softly.

"Well- well, I don't need it." Race quickly shook his head, trembling a bit. "Go- go ask Blink or- or someone. He's the thir-" he paused, shaking his head. "Blink's- Blink's the second. He may need- need help, or- or Charlie," he tried to draw the attention away from himself. "I- Jack will help m-" he stopped in his tracks.

"Oh, Race..."

Race stared ahead, breathing hard. "Jack- he- Jack- I-" he tried to make sense of everything in his head.

Jack was dead.

Jack couldn't help him anymore.

Why was he so stupid as to think he was?

Help?

Race didn't need help.

He was fine.

He needed to be fine.

Race looked up when he heard footsteps. He swallowed, feeling a stinging behind his nose. "Al, are you okay?" he asked him.

Albert was sad.

Race saw him crying not too long ago.

Albert needed his help.

Race had to help him.

Albert frowned at Race. "No, I'm not okay, Racer," he told him. "None of us are, and it's okay if you aren't either."

Race started trembling a bit. "I- I can- we- uh-" he was reminded of someone. He turned to Albert, his eyes wide. "Davey? Where's Davey? I haven't seen Davey. Al, Davey probably needs help. I have to help him, and- and Charlie- where's Charli-" alarms went off in his brain about everyone who needed help and everything he was doing wrong.

"No, Racer." Albert stopped him, taking his hands into his own. "Davey has Sarah and Specs and Romeo just went to check on him," he informed him. "You don't need to help him.

Race choked down a sob, struggling to keep his emotions contained. "And- and-"

"Charlie has Finch and Knobs," Albert told him, squeezing his hands. "But he's worried about you, we all are."

Race tilted his head.

Worried?

Why were they worried about him?

He was fine.

He was the leader.

He needed to help.

He just had to show them that he was f-

"Come 'ere." Someone pulled him into a hug.

Someone bigger than him.

Someone strong.

They gave great hugs.

Jack gave great hugs.

Race missed Jack's hugs.

Race missed Jack.

Race choked out a sob, trying to hold it back. But it was like that triggered all of the tears and they came rolling down his cheeks.

"That's it," Albert whispered to Race, rubbing his back lightly. "Let it all out. I've got you," he assured him. "You're safe."

"You're safe."

Jack's voice filled Race's mind.

"You're safe, Racer," Jack whispered, cradling Race in his arms and rocking him gently. "I've got you. They'll never hurt you again, I promise."

Race gritted his teeth, shaking almost violently as tears kept coming. He held onto Albert tightly, afraid of letting go and losing him too.

Albert frowned when he felt Race's grip tighten. He kept rocking him slowly.

Eventually, what was left of Race's energy was gone and he fell asleep, which Albert was grateful for because he knew Race hadn't slept since before Jack died.

And Race barely slept then too.

Albert adjusted Race in his arms, holding him.

Spot finally moved and walked over to them. He gently took Race from Albert's arms.

"Thanks," Albert mumbled. He cracked his back and picked Race up again, this time so he was able to carry him.

Spot nodded silently. He watched Race. "Had he not cried yet?" he asked softly. It was as if he was almost afraid of the answer.

The answer of which he probably already knew.

Albert shook his head. "No, he hadn't," he answered quietly. "He and Crutchie watched Jack die, but I don't think it hit him like it did Crutchie," he explained. "I think he was processing too much and was too worried about everyone else."

Spot nodded.

Albert looked at the other leaders. "Thank you for coming to check on us," he said softly, not wanting to wake Race up. "You're welcome to stay and check on others here, or go," he told them. "I'm gonna go lay him down."

The leaders nodded.

"Albert,"

Albert looked up.

Arrow's frown deepened when he saw the tears on Race's cheeks. "If you need anything, let us know," he said finally.

Albert wasn't used to Arrow's voice being so soft and sad. He managed to nod as if to thank him and turned. He walked to the stairs and carried Race up them.

Footsteps followed behind him, and Albert instantly knew who they belonged to.

Albert carried Race into the bunk room and over to the bunk they shared. He laid Race down on the bottom bunk — the one that Albert slept in — and took off his shoes and suspenders. Then, he pulled the blanket over him.

Spot watched, clear sorrow in his eyes. "He really is a mess, huh?" he asked softly.

Albert nodded. He stepped back and took in the sight.

Race had clear bags under his eyes and the area around his eyes was puffy. The tears were mostly gone, except a few dry ones on his cheeks, and his lips were extremely chapped from him biting on them so much.

Yet, somehow, he still looked beautiful, if not just a bit exhausted.

Albert sighed softly. "Yeah, he is, but we all are right now," he mumbled, crossing his arms.

Spot nodded.

Albert leaned down and kissed Race's forehead gently. "I love you, Racer," he murmured against his forehead.

Spot watched him. He gently snaked his arms around Albert's waist when he stood up again and pulled him close. "I'm here if you need me, okay?" he mumbled to him.

Albert nodded softly, holding onto his arms. "Same to you."

Spot nodded.

After a few minutes, tears filled Albert's eyes, both of which were fixated on Race. He wiped his eyes and turned around, hugging Spot close and nuzzling his head into the crook of Spot's neck. "Why did he have to die, Spot?" he whispered helplessly. "Why?"

Spot frowned. He breathed out slowly, looking at the ceiling as tears filled his eyes. "I don't know, Al," he whispered. "I really don't know."

2038 Words
Sorry if none of the grammar in this makes sense lol. My grammar is so bad right now because I'm still super sick, but it was nice to write this because I've been struggling to write for a few weeks.
I hope you enjoyed (especially that subtle hint of Spralbert) and I hope I didn't make you cry too much. Also, as a thing, I may turn this into a book, but maybe not. We'll see how these next few weeks of school go lol. But if I do, would you all like to read it?

(Plus, sorry all of my stuff is Race centered. If you want other ships and stuff, tell me them and your ideas — if you have one — and I can try to write it, but no promises.)