Love When A Moot Likes My Post After Being Away For A Day Or So ... Like Welcome Back Babe!!!

I NEEEEEEEED modern javey nyc Christmas ......... assistant davey x busker jack .... Christmas Day .... it's snowing ..... maybe even cafe au ......... all rugged up ..... LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ............. WAHHHHHHH ...

You are my favorite Ralbert person, so I present to you the song “Strawberry Wine” by Noah Kahan from Albert’s perspective on Race :)

OH ANON YOU ARE SO SO SO CORRECT...

im listening to this song for the first time ever right now, and you're so right ... im imagining Albert singing this in his apartment, and race hearing it through his floor and fantasising about it being about him ...

fuck dude I'm so sad tn . anyway jack doesn't know how to grieve ... both his parents died when he was too young to grieve ... he didn't understand that was how it worked yet . when jack lost his father, he just kept moving ... that's what he always told him to do. 'don't worry, my boy, don't worry. just keep moving. never stop moving, boy. you hear me?'

jack keeps moving. he moves and moves and moves until Davey stops him like a brick wall. one night, davey hugs him just right and jack dissolves. all of a sudden, davey feels tears soaking through his shirt, and feels jack sob. he hugs jack tighter . everything rushes back to jack. the warmth of his little bedroom, his dad's cooking. he never knew his mom, but his dad was better than jack thinks a mom could have ever been.

all of a sudden, jack realises that his father is gone. forever. he died almost 9 years ago.

and fuck, jack never stopped moving for long enough to realise.

The walls of Race’s apartment were far from blank. They were adorned with almost anything he ever found or bought. Posters, shitty drawings, better drawings, sticky-notes, old sheet music, newspaper. Anything Race could find. He was like a crow in that sense.

He couldn’t bear living in between two blank walls. It would feel too much like a psych ward or a hospital- Race was never too fond of hospitals.

The last time he was in a hospital, it was for one of his friends having a baby. He was happy for her, but the blank walls tightened around his chest and held him firmly still, too still. Standing too still between the blank walls, Race couldn’t help but think of the fact that a hospital was the first place he had ever been. It would probably be the last, like it had been for so many members of his family.

Such a sterile place to be filled with so much death. So much pain. So much happiness.

All of it contained in this vessel so devoid of emotion that Race can’t breathe.

It’s not the blankness of the space that constricts his chest, it’s the amount of emotion it contains. He wants to explain it but nobody would really understand the extent of it.

But even before he steps into Race’s living room, Albert understands.

He knows- to a certain extent- what has happened in Race’s life, what has shaped him, what draws him to make forts out of blankets, decorate his walls, write on his arms; and he understands.

Albert has patches sewn onto almost every piece of furniture and upholstery he owns. Albert has posters on his walls and Albert writes on his hands.

Race is just a reflection of him, really.

That’s why he loves him. That’s why Race loves Albert.

Their experiences shape them into the same person. Is that such a bad thing?

watching newsies for the first time

“Davey – Day, c'mon, y’ain’t makin’ any sense…” Jack says gently, rubbing his hand across Davey’s shoulders. “I mean, d’ya just not like her? ‘Cause there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, sometimes a girl just ain’t the one-”

“But she was.” Davey insists, and he feels all the more like a child for it. “She – she was smart, a-and funny, and beautiful, and if there was ever a girl I could’ve liked, could’ve – could’ve been with, it’d be her, b-but I… I just…”

He takes a painful breath, his voice crushed - like shards of glass - into his throat.

“Jackie, I don’t…” He whispers as hot tears scald his cheeks. “I think there’s something wrong with me?”

His voice pitches up at the end like a question – but he knows the moment the words are said, the moment the thought is finally pitched into existence, that it’s not. There’s something wrong with him. He knows it. He knows it. And now Jack does, too.

Pfffft. Okay. If this gets 1k notes I’ll come out to my teacher at school and ask to be called my preferred pronouns :)

love your writing! could you do some more for ralbert?

Aaaa thank you!!! I’m so sorry that this took so long, school has been beating me up lately, lol. Enjoy this little bit of rambling!

There’s a crack in the mirror in Albert and Race’s home.

Neither are quite sure how it got there- perhaps a box was dropped onto it during moving and hit the glass a bit too hard, perhaps one of them had bumped into it and just didn’t remember- but it’s been there for as long as the two of them can tell you. It was there when they signed the lease on the house, it was there when they came home one day with a shining bundle of joy in their arms, after years of waiting, and it’ll be there when the time comes to put the mirror away.

When you stand in front of it, your view of your reflection is distorted a bit where the glass has chipped. Right above your heart lies a star-shaped crack, your skin seeming fragile and broken underneath it. Both Albert and Race have looked into this mirror hundreds of times, a quick glance on the way out to run an errand or for several minutes as they laughed at the faces their kids made in it.

Their youngest barely comes up to the crack, a little puncture mark poked into his face when he passes by. He laughs when he sees it, brushing his hand just close enough to feel the groove where the mirror’s broken, smiling at his reflection.

Race has to blink tears from his eyes when he sees this, his beautiful child so happy with what he saw in that glass. Albert isn’t so lucky- he’s always been sentimental anyways. It had taken a long time for the two of them to find that, for their own reflections to not punch a hole through their heart.

Their children won’t ever have to suffer through those long years of waiting before freedom, trapped in the hopeless purgatory of no support before they finally get the courage to stand up. That mirror will never haunt them. Their names will not be a source of pain. They’ll never be afraid to be who they were- both Race and Albert had promised that long before they’d first adopted.

For now, that mirror will distort their children’s faces, hear their giggles as they stick out their tongues at the warped image. As they grow, they’ll fall into the same routine, ignoring that old crack in the glass as they fix their jacket or comb through their hair, the slight bend in light unnoticeable now. Their hearts will break, just like the glass, and be mended together again with some sort of miracle. When they leave their childhood home, that mirror will watch, still the same as ever yet having bore witness to the molding of two human beings, just as it had done before. They’ll come home for holidays and birthdays, funerals and reunions, their fingerprints left on the mirror and wiped off again, like when they were little.

Sooner rather than later, it’ll become no longer useful, and it will sit in a basement or old antique shop, slowly staining and losing its light. It will heave its final, weak breath, the memories made lost to time and decay, to all except those who lived it- those who still dream of the time spent in that house, with that mirror.

That glass may one day be broken, but those men and their family? They never will be.

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

ok google how to finish a one shot??????