Guess what? More Sprace. For something that isn’t Sprace or more Sprace if that’s what you’re into, follow my blog. It’s just a lot of Newsies. In the meantime, enjoy some angst!
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Six months. It’s been six months today since Spot lost the only relationship that ever mattered. It all happened so fast. He replays that fateful day in his mind constantly, trying to piece together where everything went wrong.
Well, he knows what went wrong. He got jealous and lost his temper. He showed a side of himself that he tried so hard to bury as far down as humanly possible. A side he never wanted anyone to see, especially not Race.
Perfect, perfect Race. The only person who ever loved him for him. The only person who tried to see past all the bad and actually sometimes loved it. Race taught Spot a thing or two about love. When they met, neither of them were looking for a relationship. The timing was so weird, but after one cup of coffee, they both knew that it was right.
They were so happy. Race was thriving as a dancer and an actor because Spot made him more confident. Spot was becoming more empathetic and human because Race made him a better person. They were both admittedly happier than they’d ever been before.
Then Race started spending a lot of time with Albert. It was completely harmless. They had both moved to the same dance studio that was a little more advanced than either of them were used to, so they were practicing together a lot to get caught up. They were together every evening until at least midnight.
Spot and Race hardly saw each other for a few weeks. Spot was happy to see Race doing well with something he loved, but he did miss his boyfriend. Race was working really hard and, as far as he knew, Spot was supportive, so the extra rehearsal time didn’t seem like a problem. Maybe if Spot had just talked to Race and communicated his feelings, they would have fixed the problem.
But that didn’t happen. Spot let it fester. He let it all build up until one awful day at work followed by the absence of his boyfriend pushed him over the edge. He called Race and asked him to come home. Then communicating his feelings just turned into him yelling about how Race would rather spend his time with Albert than Spot and how he didn’t love him. Race tried to talk Spot down with reassurances and apologies, but the line about his lack of love did not sit well with Race. He too started yelling. Before either of them knew it, the words, “Maybe we should take a break,” were shouted from Race.
Spot left without another word and only went back once for confirmation. He got it in the form of seeing Race and Albert kissing. That was all the confirmation he needed.
And now Spot is lonely and drunk every night wishing he could take it back. He should have just told Race he had a problem. Race would have been understanding. He would have tried to fix it. Spot knows that because that’s how Race is. Spot has a problem and Race fixes it. Not this time. It was too late for Race to fix it.
Spot hasn’t tried to contact Race since. They have all the same friends, so they’re sometimes forced to suck it up and see each other. Spot never heard anything more of Albert and Race and he doesn’t know if they were ever officially together. The thought makes him sick, but at least there’s no proof of it and he can pretend it never happened.
So, here he lays upside down on his couch. The apartment is completely dark and quiet save for the muffled sound of Sam Smith coming from his headphones. The nearby area is littered with beer cans, some from today and some from the course of a week. There are also three still sitting unopened on the coffee table.
He reaches for one just as there’s a knock on his door. He ignores it, proceeding to open his beer and take a long sip from it. The knocking continues impatiently. He knows that whoever it is isn’t going away, so he gets up and goes to the door, fully prepared to yell at whoever is disturbing his pity party.
He isn’t prepared to see Race.
They stand in awkward silence, just staring at each other for a long time. Then Race says, “Hey. I’m sorry for just showing up like this, but I needed to see you.”
Spot blinks. Six months. Six months of nothing from either side and now here he is. Here he is needing to see Spot.
“Can I come in?” Race pushes.
Spot nods and steps aside to let Race in. He stops just inside the door and looks out over the mess. Spot isn’t a messy a guy, so the appearance of the apartment shocks Race.
“So why are you here?” Spot asks, more blunt than he intended.
Race slowly turns to him. “I have some stuff to say. You don’t have to say anything, just listen. Just hear me out and if you still hate me and want me to leave when I’m done, I will.”
Spot opens his mouth to protest that Race insinuated Spot hated him, but Race puts his hand up to stop him.
“Just wait. Please.” Spot nods and sits down, going back to his beer. “I don’t like the way we ended things. I know you were hurt, but I promise I didn’t cheat on you. Albert and I were not, are not, never have, and never will sleep together. I loved you then and I still do, but I was so mad at you for what you said and for not trusting me. I tried to move on, I really did, but nobody is you. I need you and I hate that i need you. I want to try this again, but only if you want to and only if you trust me. My trust in you has never wavered once. I deserve the same from you.”
Spot just stares at him. He’s surprised to hear it. Race doesn’t always say what he thinks, but now he is. The honesty hurts a little, Spot thinks. Still, Race is right. And Race is here offering Spot a second chance, a do over. A chance to be better.
Spot stands up. “I’m sorry for the things I said and the way I acted. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you how I felt sooner. I’m sorry I never called. I’m sorry.”
“So? Can we try again?” Race asks hopefully.
“I would like that,” Spot says, smiling for the first time in a long time.
“Can I kiss you?” Race asks.
Spot’s answer comes in a kiss of his own, pulling Race to him and wrapping him up in his arms. He holds him there even after the kiss is over, just to be sure he won’t let him slip away again.
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