— guys are fightin’, bleedin’, fallin’

crutchie meets the newsies of lower manhatting — chapter 3: “a taste of recognition”

“ Yet the bum legs startin’ to ache again, keeping him up at night and whatnot. Sleepless boys don’t last long in Manhattan; tired feet get trampled quick. Down, down, down, like a ship lost at sea—a boy lost in the city. He had to reach the surface before he lost himself completely. One last act, a final climb to the surface, where clarity would finally dawn. He ain’t a wuss and he ain’t a baby, top of the tallest roof will show everybody that. Won’t it? “

FIRST POST ;; https://archiveofourown.org/works/70563801