Javey But Jack Has To Stand On A Stair To Get To Davey's Eye Level. Javey But Jack Has To Go On Tiptoe

My brain at all times:

They call me 007. 0 rizz 0 bitches 7 mental health diagnosises

new javey think just dropped!! (cw for mention of sh scars!!!)

Davey needs a breath of fresh air.

He travels up to the roof of the building, taking the stairs instead of the elevator becuase the last thing he wants right now is to feel nauseous.

His chest feels tight, his eyes are sore.

Maybe it's not worth it.

He reaches the roof, opening the door and feeling the cool breeze on his wet cheeks as he glanced around.

He sees another figure on the roof- he's not alone.

Who else would be out here at this time of night?

When Jack hears the door to the roof open, he turns. He doesn’t whip around in surprise, he's far too tired. He turns, almost lethargically.

The figure has the same curls and chiseled nose as David Jacobs. Even in the dark of the night, it's clear he’s been crying. His shoulders are drawn up near his ears and his hands are wringing an invisible towel, trembling slightly.

His voice carries on the wind: ‘Jack?’

He replies, hoping his voice carries the same way: ‘David?’

It's like a Western standoff. The moon slinks behind a cloud. The stars toss beautiful shadows across Davey’s cheeks, shiny with tears.

‘Come here.’ Jack says softly, gesturing to the view. ‘Look.’

Davey begins to walk over, stumbling a little over his own feet. He looks out at the view- it's beautiful. Windows shine like stars, cars flow on the streets like rivers of lights and electricity. Electricity flows through Davey’s veins. Jack’s shoulder touches his.

The sleeves of Jack’s hoodie are drawn up, and his hands dangle over the edge of the building. Constellations of scars and freckles litter his arms. The scars: methodical, patterned, they are buildings, they are cars. The freckles: tossed haphazardly across Jack’s skin, they are dappled light, they are stars.

Davey always had a bit of a thing about stars.

‘Are you alright, Dave?’ Jack asks the city skyline.

'I'm…’ Davey sighs towards the bank building. ‘I’m alright. Better now that I’m chatting to you. Better now that I’m getting some fresh air.’

Jack hums, slipping a hand around Davey’s shoulders.

‘The city’s beautiful at night, iddnit?’

‘It reminds me of you.’

so albert has like long-ish hair, right? he puts his hair up in double braids more for practicality's sake than anything. he has two younger sisters, that's how he knows how to braid.

now consider race who sees albert doing his hair up and watches so intently that he learns. sometimes the girlsies in brooklyn let him practice on their hair, just so he can offer to do it for albert. albert doesn't say yes very often.

but, one day he does. his wrists hurt and his arms are tired. he sits down at the bottom of the staircase of the lodging house, race sits a step higher. albert lays his head on race's thigh, just a little bit, and race nearly explodes. he tries not to pull on the braid too hard (spot's main complaint) and albert sighs happily as he feels race's fingers card through his hair. it's music to races ears. he lets himself smile, softly, smittenly, as he 'accidentally' strokes albert's cheek on his way to get a new strand of hair.

race wants this all the time.

back at it again in the tuck everlasting tag

Davey trying to sell newspapers

in my modern au jack has to take davey's concert black pants and they pool at his feet btw. he has to wear platform shoes btw.

crotcheting my cat a phat doobie because I am an enabler but it's racetrack higgins. thank you for coming to my Ted talk

Most unrealistic thing about newsies? the fact that they never lose their hats

davey made cookies :) loosely inspired by an @incorrectuksies quote