If you've read my other stories, I think you all know that I love writing a sunset chapter where there's a fluffy moment down at the Brooklyn docks at sunset. You might hate me for it, but I'm gonna write this anyway. None of my sunset chapters are even the same anyway.

Enjoy! :)

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Race has had a great day so far. Almost right after they got out of the carriage, they met up with other newsies to play cards with. He prides himself on how many of the games he won.

After it was all over, Race and Spot went down to the Brooklyn docks, feet dangling over the edge, looking out at the sunset.

Race loves summer sunsets. 

To him, summer sunsets look like rainbows. When the sun is at it's lowest, that is. That's when the horizon line is red, and you look up a little and then there's a tint of orange, as well as some yellow, and there's the tiniest hue of green in between the yellow and the great stretch of blue, and above the blue is a deep indigo, or purple, which keeps going up and up and up. Race loves it. It's one of the best masterpieces that he can ask for.

Well, it needs to get later for the sun to be that low. Right now it's in the position where it's past mid afternoon, but still an hour or so away from being dinner time.

Not that he can always see the full spectrum deep in the city away from the water, though. 

And so, he's grateful that Spot brought him here.

For now, they sit in comfortable silence.

"I had a lot of fun today, Race," Spot says. 

"Yeah, me too," Race agrees.

"How old were you when you first played cards?" Spot asks curiously.

"...twelve," Race admits.

Spot laughs. "That explains it."

"Well, what about you?" Race shoots back defensively. "You had a calculated cunningness that don't come with beginners."

"Yeah, that's true," Spot chuckles. "I was thirteen when I first got into playing cards."

"And now you're fifteen and an expert."

"Nearly sixteen."

Just like Race.

"The only difference between you and me and cards, Race, is that I didn't choose to have my life revolve around cards."

"Hey!" Race shoots back defensively.

"You know I'm right."

He sighs.

Inside, Race is glowing. He loves the playful back and forth banter that they have. How easily it comes. It's fun. And he likes that it's fun to talk to Spot.

They talk longer. They talk as the sunset goes through its phases of sunset colors, until finally, to Race's satisfaction, it's where it's a rainbow of colors.

But that also means that it's getting closer to night.

"It's getting late," Spot mentions, confirming Race's worries. "If you want, you can stay the night in Brooklyn."

Yes, Race's mind automatically decides. When he opens his mouth and takes a breath to respond, he feels a fresh throbbing pain in his chest.

Right.

He's been binding since this morning without a break.

Jack's going to get mad.

Race is actually debating if Jack's wrath is actually better or worse than the damage that can happen to his lungs and to his chest.

Well, at least if faces Jack's wrath, he can pretend to stand tall on that sinking ship.

No matter what, he can't stay in Brooklyn. Not tonight.

"I'm tempted, Spot, but I really need to get back to Manhattan for the night," Race responds reluctantly, ruefully.

"Oh." That's the response he gets from Spot. Followed by, "I understand."

Is that a ... twinge of disappointment that Race hears in Spot's voice? Does Spot actually want him to stay here in Brooklyn?

Don't let people get close to you, for those close to you can harm you the most. This is always what Race tells himself. So he dismisses the perceived disappointment as his over active imagination combined with wishful thinking.

Like when he thought Spot nodded in Tibby's diner when Race said ain't I pretty? when pointing to himself in the newspaper. Surely that was just him imagining Spot doing that out of the corner of his eye.

He shakes that thought away.

"But thanks for offering," Race says finally. "I did have a lot of fun today."

Spot smiles. Race likes Spot's smiles. "Yeah, I did too."

Race fidgits a little. "Well, I'm going to be at Sheepshead tomorrow, the usual time...if you wanna meet me there, you know, if you ain't tired of seein' me around."

Spot's smile grows a little more. "I'm not tired of you, Race. I guess if I can't get you to stay the night, I guess I'll see you at Sheepshead."

Race feels his face flush a little.

Stop it. Not helping.

"See you at Sheepshead," Race echoes. He stands up.

Spot stands up too.

Race doesn't know if a handshake or a hug or salutation is necessary. He chooses the worst moments to not know what to do.

"Well, I better head back to my newsies," Spot starts for him. "See you tomorrow."

Race nods. "Yeah. Bye."

And so, they walk their separate directions.

Race should feel like he's walking home.

But walking in the opposite direction of Spot feels like he's walking away from home instead.

He files that thought away. He'll save that for another time.

By the time he gets back, he is really feeling the effects of binding too long.

I learned my lesson. I  won't do this again. Ever. I just need to go inside.

He reaches for the doorknob.

Before he can grab it, it twists from someone inside with a violence.

Race jumps back.

Uh oh.

I'm in trouble now.

Race was hoping to sneak past Jack.

Seeing as Jack is the one who furiously flings open the door, that plan is not going to work anymore.

He avoids meeting Jack's eye.

Jack, whose lips are pursed from concern and eyebrows knotted from worry and eyes shining with distress. 

Race glances up meekly.

"Stop slouching," Jack tells him sternly. "It's bad posture, and you're binding. You've been binding since this morning."

Race wants to retort back you weren't here this morning but bites it back when he remembers that it was first thing in the morning when he came to collect Jack, David, Sarah, and Denton's paper to give to everyone.

So he stands up a little taller. Breathing silently so Jack can't hear his ragged breathing.

He holds up his hand in a mini wave. "Hi, Jack."

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Poor Race. I kinda just fed him to the sharks haha.

But he does have to suffer the consequences of binding too long.

Okay, it might just be me, but I think I put a lot of alliteration in there in the most random places.

The beginning describing a sunset? Those are the kind of summer sunsets I get. Right out on the water. I mean, I don't have miles and miles of water to look out to, but there's something to be said about being at sea level at sunset. And the different sets of colors that the sunset goes through too. I miss summer.

So ... I'm releasing the first three chapters today, and now I get to see how you all take to this story. Wow, that's a thought.

It's really fun to write Spot and Race going back and forth, okay? I love it a lot.

I think this is the shortest author's note yet. So, I won't keep you waiting much longer! :)

Please, no homophobia or transphobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is glad that even though it's not summer break, they still get time off from school for Thanksgiving break)