ᎾN ᎢᎻᎬ ᎢᏔᎬᏞFᎢᎻ ᎠᎪY ᎾF ᏟᎻᎡᏆᏚᎢᎷᎪᏚ ᏆN ᎢᎻᎬ ᎢᎪᏞᎬ Ꮖ'ᏞᏞ ᏔᎬᎪᏙᎬ, ᎢᎻᎬ ᏴᎾYᏚ FᏆNᎠ ᎢᎻᎬᎷᏚᎬᏞᏙᎬᏚ ᎾN ᏟᎻᎡᏆᏚᎢᎷᎪᏚ ᎬᏙᎬ!
(AKA I'm desperate and running out of rhymes!)
(Also... this one's bad. I kinda lost all inspiration but I knew I needed to post something or else I wouldn't have this completed until June.)

***

It was loud. Very loud. Crowded too. The theater was full of newsies from all over New York and all of them were buzzing with excitement. Their energy was contagious. It was just the kind of place Jack liked to be.

Medda was making her way through the room greeting all the boys. Jack waved and sent her a blinding grin; she was obviously an angel, having lent them the hall to host their party.

Katherine was with his boys, laughing and bantering with them. She fit in so well with all of them-it was like she was made specifically for Jack.

Tonight was definitely perfect... for everyone else.

It had to be nearing midnight, nearing the end of 1899, and Jack wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. It had been a pretty good year as far as he was concerned. The strike had been successful, he'd met and fallen in love with Katherine, the boys had gained two new brothers in the form of Les and Davey Jacobs... Things could've been much worse.

Yet Jack didn't know if he wanted it to end. A new year was always uncertain. You didn't know what would happen next. A rough year could be awaiting them, yet they would still celebrate its arrival.

Jack had never been good at letting things go. He didn't know if he was ready to leave the strike behind. He didn't know if he was ready to leave the boys behind. He'd have to this year. April of 1900 would bring his eighteenth birthday and you couldn't be an adult newsie, it didn't work that way. Perhaps that was why he was so reluctant to celebrate.

"Whatcha thinkin' about Kelly?"

Jack glanced to his right. Spot stood, arms crossed, facing forward as if to prevent people from thinking that he was actually talking to Jack.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," Spot frowned. "But I can see you over here frettin' and ruining the party and it's making me uncomfortable."

"Why? You're the only one allowed to do that?"

Spot glared and said nothing. Jack tried to ignore the boy's gaze, but broke after a minute. "I'm eighteen in April."

Spot raised an eyebrow. "You're leaving soon."

Jack nodded even though it wasn't a question. "I just ain't ready for it to be over yet."

"You can't stop it from happening," Spot replied quietly. "All you can do is look back on the times you had and enjoy the time you got left."

"You sound like you've thought about this an awful lot. It ain't like you to be sentimental," Jack teased.

Spot punched Jack's shoulder and the older boy cringed. "I ain't sentimental. I'm just smarter than you."

"Sure," Jack smiled.

"I don't have to take this," Spot groaned. "Figure out your problems yourself next time."

"How about you just keep your nose out of my business next time?" Jack retorted.

"No problem," Spot moved away from Jack, then paused. "Really Kelly, remember what I said. You can't stop it, so enjoy it."

"I will."

Spot gave a firm nod, then disappeared into the chaos of the crowd. Jack remained in the corner considering Spot's words.

Look back on the times you had. Enjoy it.

Jack would follow that advice. He'd never forget his boys. He'd enjoy the time he'd been given; every party, every Christmas and birthday.

He'd remember the snowball fights and the ice skating in the park. He'd remember all the boys fishing out a penny on a sweltering July day to buy ice cream from one of the vendors. He'd remember how Buttons' ice cream seemed to end up more on his nose than in his mouth and how Albert would discreetly pass Sniper his treat when the younger boy dropped his own on the ground.

He would remember the boys gathering around Finch's bunk in the dark while Finch held a candle up to his face, telling spooky stories in a hushed whisper. He'd remember a twelve-year-old Specs comforting ten-year-old Henry after said stories gave him a nightmare.

He'd remember Race shuffling through cards, cracking jokes all the while amidst accusations of cheating--accusations that he'd brush off with a snicker and quick wink. He'd remember Crutchie and his constant smiling that would light up the lodge and his optimism that never failed to brighten even Albert's day.

"Jack! Hey! Jack!"

Jack was pulled back into the present by none other than Crutchie himself. He was limping over to Jack and waving his free hand in the air, a grin splitting his face.

"Jack! Jack, c'mon!" Crutchie tugged at his arm, green eyes shining. "It's almost midnight!"

"Slow down," Jack chuckled as the boy dragged him further into the crowd.

"Jack! We've been looking all over for you!" Davey called. "Where were you?"

"Not important," Jack shrugged. "I'm here now!"

The boys all gathered close together and the room went silent--everyone was waiting to hear the clock chimes that would announce the new century.

"What's takin' so long?" Romeo whined.

"Shh!" Elmer hissed, smacking the back of Romeo's head.

And then they heard it. The dull dinging, the twelve chimes. It was midnight.

Someone let out a cheer and in seconds caps were flying through the air and the room was filled with excited yelling.

Boys were throwing their arms around each other and pulling each other into hugs. A sharp whistle sounded from somewhere in the room and the cheers grew louder. Slowly the cheers grew into song. Jack looked around, trying to see who was singing and quickly spotted the culprits.

Race and Romeo had climbed up onto one of the tables and had their arms slung over each other's shoulders. Jack decided to overlook the glasses of who knows what that they held in their hands; instead he grinned at Spot, who Race must've convinced to join them.

He too was standing on the table and seemed to be enjoying himself. The trio merrily led the boys in song.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?"

Jack wrapped an arm around Crutchie and the other around Katherine who'd joined them, and grinned as he joined in.

"For auld lang syne my dear, for auld lang syne!"

Crutchie smiled up at him. "It's gonna be a good year, ain't it Jack?"

Jack didn't hesitate. "Of course it will."

He meant it too. He could feel it. The rest of the world could too. The theater echoed with the voices of the newsies, raised for happiness rather than hawking headlines. It was enough to warm even to coldest of hearts. The joyous noise spilled out onto the streets and flooded every inch of New York City, bathing the city with warmth and pure joy.

"We'll take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne!"