Racetrack Higgins was sure his heart was breaking.

Why?

Because Luna was gone.

She'd left for a walk and had never come back. Later that night, a taunting note had appeared on the Lodging House steps, telling the newsies Luna had fallen into the river and never come up.

Race had refused to believe a word of it.

That had been three days ago.

Three days, Looney, three days.

Looney. That nickname she hated so much. Race clung to the memory of her annoyance, trying to remember every curve of her face. Every curl in her hair. Every glimmer in her eyes.

Even in memory she was beautiful.

Race had long ago realized he liked Luna as more than a friend, or a sister.

The moment of enlightenment had come a month after the strike.

~Three Months Ago~

The newsies had thrown a small celebration at Irving Hall, in honor of Les Jacobs's tenth birthday.

It was small, the newsies and some friends, but Luna had insisted she dress nice, as Les was her selling partner.

When Luna had entered the hall, Race had stopped breathing.

The dress was old, grey, and had hung a little above her ankles, but she had looked stunning; at least in Race's eyes.

He had then realized that she made him feel happier when she was near, and made him smile with her own.

~Present~

Race was now sure he didn't just like her.

He had fallen head over heels for red haired, green eyed, Luna Fett.

She'd even let him call her Looney, instead of Luna or Moon. The honor of using that nickname was reserved for Jack Kelly, her oldest friend, and Jane Fett, her younger sister.

She'd slowly crept further and further into his heart, like a plant taking root in some crevasse.

"I love you, Looney," Race muttered to the wall. "Can you hear me? Cause it's true, ya know."

He remembered when a small newsie named Blake had passed away. He had cried for days.

The pain he felt now was pitiful compared to this. This was like someone had broken a glass in his chest and was slowly stabbing him with the pieces.

Just her name brought a new wave of grief over him, and since he couldn't get her out of his mind, it meant he carried a constant piercing agony in his chest.

Race abruptly stood and left the Lodging house to take a walk, wanting to stop the shattering in his heart.

-

Luna heard someone coming down the alley. On her tangled red hair, her cap sat awkwardly, and her clothes were still damp from her dip in the river.

She looked around the corner and froze.

It was him.

She quickly stepped out of her small hiding place and started towards the dark haired newsie.

The one who held her heart in her hand.

The boy who's flirting was so adorably pathetic at times, it brought him even closer to her heart.

And when he'd kissed her cheek, the day the strike had been won,  it was like something has blossomed in her chest; a desperate want to hold him closer than was humanly possible, to kiss him until she had to pull away for air.

Luna came face to face with Racetrack Higgins.

-

Race froze.

No way.

"Luna?" He choked out, a tear making its way down his cheek.

A horrible thought hit him.

This is all a dream. I'm going to wake up, and she'll be gone again.

Race felt a sob build in his chest, and let it free. Tears began streaming down his face.

He heard Luna saying his name, and felt her hands on either side of his face. He felt her thumbs wipe away his tears, and saw her own eyes fill with tears at his sorrow.

If this is a dream, he realized, then I have nothing to lose.

Race took the redhead's face in his hands and kissed her.

-

Luna's heart stopped.

Racetrack Higgins is kissing me.

Kiss him back, you stupid, stupid girl!

Luna melted into the kiss, her hands sliding from Race's face to the back of his neck. Her eyes closed.

I've died and gone to heaven, because no way on Earth is Race kissing me.

Finally, Luna slowly pulled away, and opened her eyes. Race was staring back at her, his expression of shock mirroring the one in her own eyes.

Then he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Luna. My Luna," he breathed into her ear.

Luna breathed in deeply, smelling the old soap the newsies used for washing their clothes. Her head was on Race's shoulder, Race's head on her own.

In that moment, both of them realized this was real.

Oh, so beautifully, perfectly real.