Skittery stood in the bathroom area of the lodge, debating whether pumping water to wash his face would be too loud and wake the other boys. It was late, although he didn’t know the exact time. He had been trying to save up for a pocket watch but never could scrap together the funds. Judging by the soft sounds of the boys deep in slumber in the next room over and the crescent moon in the sky, he determined it was around midnight.
He had woken up clammy from a nightmare and didn’t feel like trying to fall asleep again. He had seen some of the other boys have nightmares- Blink mostly, who frequently woke up screaming at any hours of the night before Mush had to rush over and comfort him. He never had dreams like that, which he was thankful for. He couldn’t imagine what that boy had been through to continue to be tortured by his own mind like that.
The nightmares he had were just vague unsettling things that continuously crept over his mind the rest of the day, or at least until he snatched a cigar from someone. They were usually about improbable, sometimes childish things he felt guilty for letting bother him- monsters, his little brother getting hurt, or his family finding out something about him that he didn’t want anyone knowing.
Not that he had any secrets that bothered him like that. That’s what he told himself.
He decided it wasn’t worth it to get water, instead leaning his elbows on the trough and setting his head against his forearms. The cool breeze from the early spring rainstorm drifting in from the drafty windows felt nice against the clammy, bare skin of his back.
He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired every day no matter what he did.
After a few silent moments, listening to the rain, he felt the warmth of fingertips creep suddenly onto his shoulder. He jumped up, turning around and instinctively taking a defensive position with his fists balled. It was dark, but the curly mop of brown hair, hazel-green eyes, and toned muscles, visible even through his undershirt, told him who it was. Swifty was always doing that, sneaking up behind people and startling them whether he meant it or not. He was too nimble, too light on his feet.
“Jeez, what’d ya do that for?” Skittery whispered furiously, his face growing hot as he wished he had pulled on a shirt when he was leaving his bunk.
“Sorry, wanted to make sure you’s ok,” Swifty whispered back, his cheeks slightly red.
Of course it had to be Swifty, Skittery thought to himself. Swifty had to be the one to wake up, when he was one of the two causing all these problems in the first place.
Skittery didn’t blame the two boys for the feelings he got. It wasn’t their fault that he got lost in his head whenever Bumlets flipped his hair out of his face, or that he got a funny feeling in his stomach when Swifty adjusted his clothes. And it certainly wasn’t their fault for that sour, jealous mood that he couldn’t seem to shake after he walked into the lodge early one day, finding Bumlets being pushed up against the wall by Swifty, kissing his neck with his hands at his waist.
That wasn’t his business. He just wanted a lover- he was jealous for the relationship they had, that was all. He wasn’t going to let his silly envy get in the way of his friendship, or let it bother whatever they had going on.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
Skittery watched as Swifty sat down on the weathered floorboards, much to his dismay, his dangling suspenders clattering on the hardwood. He wasn’t in the mindset to stay up with someone. He glanced back to his empty bunk, briefly pondering if he could return to it without seeming rude. He decided against it, reluctantly joining the boy on the floor and crossing his legs.
“You sick or something? You felt hot,” He asked softly. Swifty knew how hard it was to get Skittery into a conversation when he didn’t initiate it. It was somewhat of a skill, trying to carefully word his sentences to draw him in. Unfortunately, he was still groggy himself, meaning he wasn’t as slick with his tongue as he could be.
“No, just had a nightmare,” the tall boy mumbled back.
“You wanna tell me about it?” Swifty patiently asked.
“Already forgetting it.”
Swifty nodded, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get much of a conversation out of him. After a beat of silence, he dug around in the pockets of his shorts and procured a cigarette, offering it to him. Skittery’s gaze flicked from it back to the other boy’s eyes, before taking it from him and setting it in the corner of his mouth.
After successfully striking a match and lighting the cigarette, tendrils of smoke curling into the air, he leaned back on his elbows and looked Swifty up and down.
“What about you, huh? What are you doin’ up so early?”
“Just couldn’t sleep. Have a lot going on in my head,” he answered, somewhat relieved that the cigarette seemed to do the trick to get Skittery out of his shell, at least a little bit.
He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether he gave a fulfilling answer, before holding out the lit cigarette, embers glowing bright in the otherwise dark room. Swifty eyed him curiously, his bright eyes picking out details of the other boy’s body best as he could in the darkness.
“When I get nightmares I cozy up to Bumlets, ya know. You ain’t got someone like that? A gal or a fella or nothin’?” Swifty asked, after passing the cigarette back.
Skitterys expression stiffened as he tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach.
“No, I ain’t got a gal like that. And I ain’t like you either.”
“Like me?” The curly haired boy replied, his eyebrows raising.
“Ya know with the,” Skittery’s eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “With the fellas.”
Swifty pulled his legs against his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Well jeez, that ain’t what I was askin’.”
“It ain’t your business.”
Swifty sighed, knowing he had ruined what little softness he had pried out of him. “Don’t see how. You’s a looker, Skits.”
Skittery felt his face flush, accompanied by a strange fluttering in his chest. He hated it. These feelings were stupid, impractical, and most importantly, could never be replicated. Swifty had Bumlets. They were happy together, and Skittery would just have to suck it up and bear through the agony that came with seeing them cuddling at night, or exchange kisses on the cheek in the morning, or playfully ruffle each other’s hair before buying papers.
It had never occurred to him how much these things bothered him until he had Swifty all to himself, with nothing else but a shared cigarette and that wretched insomnia.
“I’m going to try to sleep,” Skittery mumbled suddenly, Standing up and heading back towards the threshold between the bathroom and the bunks. In one motion, Swifty grabbed his wrist, pulled him back, and pinned his waist to the counter, gazing up at his face through the thick darkness.
“What the hell’s up with you lately, John?” He whispered furiously, tightening his grip below his ribs. Skittery stood like a statue, his mouth gaping open as he prayed his weak knees would hold him. Their chests were almost touching, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his stomach against his own in the brief eternity before he could cough out an answer.
“Nothin’”, he said, his voice coming out small. His heart drummed as he watched a lock of Swifty’s hair uncurl itself from his bangs and fall neatly onto his forehead. His eyes glistened in the shadows, filled with suspicion and curiosity.
“Nothings goin’ on with me, why’d you think that?”
“I dunno, maybe how you can’t seem to stand being around me during the day?”
Skittery took a breath, his arms glued to his sides. “It’s just me bein’ dumb, alright? Don’t worry about it.”
“Worry about it?! Skits you…” he slowly released his grip, his hands trailing down from his waist to his hips. “You ain’t…”
“I ain’t what,” Skittery breathed, barely audible over his heartbeat.
And in a split second, Swifty closed the gap between their mouths, his eyes fluttering shut as Skittery’s hands found their way onto the back of his neck. It was a tender, slow kiss, filled with questions and curiosity. Every thought or strange feeling left over from his nightmare had vanished. He wasn’t sure if the rain was still falling- he couldn’t hear a thing. Skittery discovered the other boy’s lips were surprisingly silky, and he pulled away, chest heaving, with a fruity taste on his tongue.
“Why the hell did ya do that?” Skittery said quietly, his fingers biting into the shorter boy’s shoulders.
He shrugged in response, apparently more agitated from his response than alarmed from kissing his friend.
“I don’t get you, Victor,” he said uneasily as he saw Swifty’s face drifting up towards his again.
“Stop.” He pushed him away by his shoulders, struggling to put space in between them. “We can’t do this, Vic, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Do I really gotta walk you through why it’s ok to kiss a fella?”He answered in a bemused tone.
“It ain’t that, Swifty!” he said furiously, forgetting to lower his voice. “You think I don’t wanna do that every time I see ya?! You think I’ve been putting myself through this shit for nothin’? I ain’t meant for romance. And whatever feelings that gave me ain’t exactly exclusive to you either. I couldn’t make no one happy like they want me to. Nothin’ like that will ever work out for me.” He shoved him away, walking a few paces towards the windows. “And how could ya do somethin’ like this to a sweet fella like Bumlets?!” he added, his voice quiet again.
Swifty was strangely composed, standing straight up with his hands in his pant pockets. It was strange to see his friend like this. Skittery always spent most of his time contemplating everything, analyzing conversations and movements to make sure he was completely understanding what was going on. He never let a thing go misinterpreted. He was better with being told things straight out- it surprised Swifty that a kiss, which to Skittery might’ve meant anything, for once got his point across efficiently.
“That’s what you’s worked up about? That I kissed you while I still got Bumlets?” He asked, collected despite the fact his heart was still racing. “Me and him have been talkin’, Skits. He likes you too.”
The other boy froze, the words sending a peculiar feeling down his spine. “What do ya mean by that?”
“I mean he likes ya, I like ya, and we like each other.” He slowly approached him, as if to not startle him away. “I’m sayin’ if you wanna be in on whatever we got going on,” he trailed off, tenderly slipping his arms around his waist again.
“Ya mean it, Victor? You two…” he mumbled tentatively, his own hands creeping onto his midsection.
And before he knew it they were kissing again, searing and passionate. It was something that happened on instinct, a thing Skittery didn’t let control him very often. It was as relieving as it was terrifying.
Skittery pulled away abruptly, responding to Swifty’s confused expression by holding a finger to his lips. He peered over him through the darkness at all the boys seemingly still asleep in the next room over. They were too visible for his liking, especially since he knew many of them pretended to be asleep to pry into others’ business.
He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into one of the bathroom stalls, where they whispered little confessions in between long kisses, all the way till light started shining in from under the door and the clamor of waking boys told them they were moments from being discovered.
__________
The next day was gray, with rain that sprinkled heavily on and off. Normally, this would send Skittery into a worse mood than usual, causing him to barely get any papers sold, rather spending his day under shop awnings with the stack over his head. However he barely noticed the rain, and although his mouth was in a tight line and his eyebrows furrowed, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that he couldn’t get rid of.
He remembered saying a lot to Swifty the night before, mostly embarrassing, sappy things that he carried on his shoulders with an air of shame. He remembered something about being in love, something about his heart melting when he sees Bumlets, something about him not being able to believe that the two handsomest guys in the lodge liked him. Recalling it made him cringe. He couldn’t believe he would let his guard down like that now that he was out of the moment.
He knew he had to talk to Bumlets soon and work out his feelings for him as he did with Swifty, but he could barely stand to be in the same room with either of them. He left early, turning away after hearing one of them call his name. He was aware he was just avoiding something that would have to be dealt with eventually. He was no good with feelings, or change for that matter.
Luckily the opportunity presented itself sooner than he preferred, when he settled on a bench under a damp umbrella in the park. It was a particularly heavy batch of rain, making him shiver no matter how tight he pulled his coat around him. He suddenly felt himself sandwiched by warmth, one of the boys on each side of him.
“Hey Skits,” he heard Bumlets say, although his gaze stayed fixed on the patch of ground in front of him. “Heard you was bein’ sweet with my fella last night,” he said in an amused tone, hitting his shoulder with his own.
Skittery felt paralyzed, staying silent as both boys looked at him expectantly. He felt a raindrop snake down his neck and down his collar.
“Why don’t ya tell Bumlets some of those things you told me last night,” Swifty added once it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond.
“Won’t you two leave me alone till later,” he finally answered, snapping his head up and looking at the boy on the right. He immediately regretted it. Bumlets’ damp bangs were drooping onto his forehead, his brown eyes illuminated curiously by the raindrops coming down. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone dotted with freckles.
“We ain’t gonna leave you alone, Skits, not with weather as romantic as this!” He motioned wildly with his hand, collecting a few raindrops in his palm before drying it off on Skittery’s knee. “But we also ain’t gonna pressure you or nothin, right Bumlets?” Swifty added.
Skittery let both boys set their arms around him, although his shoulders were stiff and his face was hot. The three sat there, listening to each other breathing for hours with their arms tangled. The tall boy in the middle indulged himself just a little bit more by the minute, letting himself grow comfortable between them. He knew that’s what he wanted. He knew that that’s what he had been dreaming about subconsciously for a lot longer than he cared to admit. It would take time for him to adjust, as it always did for him with new experiences and changes of his life.
But he was trying to get better at change. Maybe that’s why he let Swifty kiss his cheek, after checking that the rain had driven everyone out of the park. Maybe that’s why he let Bumlets take his waist and kiss him softly, when the moment felt right. And that’s why they walked back to the lodge, shivering, with their arms still hooked around each other, the tallest boy feeling on top of the world.
I made a little Newsies collage because my post show blues for this show have been beyond what I’ve felt for a show in a VERY long time. Playing Les was so much fun, and definitely not a role I’d thought I’d play at 23 years old. Beyond that, the amount of transgender teens who have reached out to be because of this show, seeing a trans masculine professional actor in theatre is inspiring. I’m glad I could help them see that they have a place in this theatre world.
things that would be different: -presents - These are a pull in from Christianity. The boys with parents or culturally aware adults are more likely get some small amount of pocket money to gamble with -the food - Jelly Donuts–sufganiya is a Hebrew term, and they’d be more likely to know them by European names -the Yiddish term is ponchik, German is Berliner, Polish is Paczki Russian is Ponchiki Latkes would likely be the same, but both they and pontshke (plural for ponchik) would be more likely to be fried in chicken fat (schmaltz) or goose fat, not oil. This also means that the pontshke wouldn’t have custard* and the latkes wouldn’t have sour cream *it would also break the laws of kashrut to eat it with something cooked in schmaltz aka it wouldn’t be kosher cause mi l k and dairy together are no go’s (Modern sufganiyot is normally fried in vegetable oil to avoid this issue) things that would be the same: -Menorahs would still be lit at sunset, either increasing or decreasing one light every night depending on tradition. They’d be more likely to be used for light though rather than purely ritual purposes -Ma o tzur, though most other Hannukkah songs we know of/can think of are newer -Dreidl - it is not a stretch to imagine that it was very popular among newsies, who were already known for playing dice things we’re not sure about: -i don’t know if they’d be lighting candles or if they’d be sticking wicks in schmaltz or what kind of feel like candles, but we’re not sure which it would be exactly
This post will be added to as we come up with more stuff!
now that the holiday season is starting here’s a reminder
the jacobs, the delanceys, wiesel, katherine, pulitzer, and i think jack are all jewish
please don’t draw/write them celebrating christmas
thank you
Yes, this, but please if you’re doing any fic rooted in historical canon, while Katherine/Pulitzer are Jewish, Katherine by patrilineal line, Pulitzer made a super big deal about renouncing any connection he had to being Jewish So he celebrated Christmas, kept a Christian calendar, it’s all because the antisemitism he would’ve faced was worse than not celebrating his holidays if that makes sense? Religion was seen differently, and there even were lots of records of immigrated Jews celebrating Christmas once they arrived in the states because it was just considered the American thing to do, and assimilation was better than preserving a pure culture
since it’s almost the holiday season, just a PSA: stop drawing jewish people celebrating christmas!
drawing them celebrating hanukah is much more respectful and i promise that it isn’t difficult! you could draw them lighting the menorah, playing dreidel, or even opening their hanukah presents! stay safe everyone, and & happy holidays!
actually, let me elaborate!
if you’re goyische, i would reccomend drawing a menorah that looks like this! this menorah is kosher, because the shamash [central candle] is more offset than the other candles, traditionally being HIGHER or lower. (if you’re jewish - go wild! have fun with your menorahs! once i saw a dinosaur menorah!)
this is a dreidel! dreidel is a game where people usually gamble gelt (chocolate coins) with each other. the dreidel is a spinning top, and depending on if it lands on nun, gimmel, hay, or shin, you can either get or lose gelt!
a quick little reminder from your two mods, these are some easy places to start with!
Hello!! I’m trying to procrastinate on a ton of work atm, and while I am putting together another BIG info post that should be coming out later this week, if you want to know any questions about our boys or labor law (guess who is maybe declaring their specialty at the end of the semester????) or NYC or the 1800s or American history in general, please feel compelled to do so. I miss all of you! Hugs and love,
A ticket to a movie would have cost anywhere from a Nickle to a dime for a viewing. Films would be running 5 to 8 minutes long; and they were called “one reelers” earlier in the period. A short list of films released in 1899 with their run times. Keep in mind each viewing would be a Nickle.
the newsies would absolutely protest for blm every night no matter the tear gas or curfews but some of the fandom isn’t ready to have that conversation.
This blog supports all social movements looking to better society. Black Lives Matter.
