#ralbert angst

i love making angst out of everything 

warnings: suggestions of self-harm; mentions of blood

ALBERT SAW COLOR THE DAY HE MET RACE. Seeing color meant that you’d met your soulmate. He kept it secret, though. He knew that Race would only ever see him as a friend, and Albert didn’t want to face any rejection or ridicule.

Before Albert saw color, he’d been living each day of his sixteen years waiting to find someone that would change his black-and-white view of the world into something vibrantly beautiful.

And then, on the first day of school, he’d met Race. Albert’s eyes found colors for the first time and it was hard to conceal it. He’d claimed sickness and managed to play the role convincingly enough to be sent home.

Albert actually became sick when he woke up the next morning. He didn’t go to school that day. Or the day after that. He was gone for four days in total before he managed to deal with his new discovery.

He spent his evenings learning about colors. He wanted to know their names, the different shades, what everything looked like.

He discovered that he had freckles. That his hair was red. That his eyes were a mesmerizing blue.

But all of this to be secret, too, though. If his mother and father found out, they’d be intrigued and ask questions.

Albert didn’t know what he’d do if they found out that his soulmate was another boy.

Everything in Albert’s life was kept secret now. He couldn’t explain to his parents why he wanted the differently-colored striped shirt instead of the flat-colored one. He couldn’t say that he loved seeing the sky as the sun was setting.

Every single thing was secret. A lie.

Albert managed to get over his fear of seeing Race. As the two grew closer as friends, Albert couldn’t help but feel closer to Race in a completely different way. Everything within Albert wanted to deny that he really was falling for his best friend. But the way life worked, the way color worked, it was undeniable.

It was the summer after high school graduation when Race said something that made Albert think.

“We’re going to college together, right?” Race asked.

Albert didn’t know what to say. He’d just naturally assumed that he and Race would fall away from each other like some friends did, and that he’d never hear from Race again after that.

Race wanted to stay around him though. Surely that’s what Race meant when he’d asked that.

So Albert just answered, “Yeah, we are. I’ll make sure of it.”

It was the only thing that they spoke about for weeks afterwards. They eventually decided on a college together. They even talked about getting an apartment together.

All Albert felt was bittersweet happiness. If they were talking about this under a different label, it would be different.

Every time Race said We should move in together, Albert’s mind shot to the insane possibility that maybe, just maybe, Race did like him that other type of way.

Each thought was shot down when Race would suggest that they just use the college’s dorms instead.

The college years were full of agony for Albert. He was balancing precariously on the edge of a blade. So many thoughts and options were there for him.

He could just stay away from Race as much as possible and hope that his vision would fade back to black-and-white. He could date other people in hopes that one person would make his vision more vibrant than before.

The most appealing thing was claiming that he’d gotten to see colors just then. If he said that, it could easily be justified as his soulmate being anyone he’d passed by on the sidewalks.

He wouldn’t have to deny himself art classes, something he longed to take. He would be able to get back watching the sun rising and setting. So many things he could access without questions.

But Albert never said that. He didn’t date. He became closer than ever to Race. All of it in hopes that maybe Race would suddenly see him in another light - quite literally.

Albert was thirty-some years old when he ran into Race again. It was the first time he’d seen him in person since college graduation. Their only other communication had been through texts and calls for years.

There were tears. So many tears and laughs.

Albert hated to see that his vision, which had dulled in his long time away from Race, became intensely bright and colorful again, more than ever so before.

And the urge to just blurt it out to Race was such a strong temptation.

He couldn’t, though. Race had a girlfriend now. He’d had so many other girlfriends in college. One in high school.

Race would never like him that way.

It crushed Albert. He longed to just tear away his vision, rip out his heart, deny himself any sense that showed he loved Race.

Race seemed to notice Albert’s change of pace. Everything Albert wore was dark. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t cry. He only left the house to do only what was necessary: to eat and to work.

Other than that, he slept.

And he bled.

He made himself bleed. He decided that red would be the only color that made him aware of feeling.

Albert was barely to be considered old. He was withering away from the inside, out. He saw red all day. He made himself see red.

And then one day, there was too much red, too much feeling. Then, all color faded out and all feeling stopped. Darkness and blankness was all that there was.

It was a while before he finally opened his eyes again.

Hospital. Stark, white rooms. Beeping monitors, empty silence, disgusting food. At least the only colors there were whites and grays.

Years after that, he was cautious about red. Strayed away from it. That didn’t mean that he didn’t make himself see red again, though. He was just careful not to make too much of it appear.

He got better. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, Albert got better.

He painted. He knew how. He’d painted his body red so many times that it came easily. The scenery he made this time was vibrant. But there was never red. Never, ever, ever.

Albert was old when he saw Race again.

Race was dying. It was Race in the hospital this time. Albert was sure to bring flowers of every color. He wanted to be the intricacy of the flowers - if not the color - to be the final thing he associated with Race.

It was then that Race asked him a question.

“Who is it?” It was so simple and followed by an equally simple statement. “You can see color.”

Albert, knowing that there was nothing holding him back now, answered with truth. It was the first time he’d spoken the truth. The first time a lie didn’t escape his mouth. The first time since he’d been sixteen years old.

“You,” was Albert’s answer. And it made Race cry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m your friend, never anything else.” Albert, too, was crying. Faintly, small tears, but still crying.

“Such a lie,” came Race’s choked reply. It came with a fake, harsh laugh. “The longer I knew you, the more vibrant everything became. I didn’t say…”

“…because you thought we were just friends,” finished Albert, whispering, barely audible. He swiped away tears, and they trickled down his scarred arm. The first time something other than red made him feel.

Race only nodded, and Albert was too overcome by everything to form more words. He just stayed at Race’s side, waiting out the inevitable darkness that was coming for Race.

It was only a few simple hours later that Albert cradled Race in his arms, crying quietly.

It was only then that Albert could manage to say, “I love you.”

But it was too late, for the color had already begun to seep out of Albert’s world.

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uhhhhh i thought i posted this a while ago but now i can’t find it. have some good platonic ralbert

requested by: someone lmao

word count: 505

warnings: none(?)

The rest of the boys inside the lodge were fast asleep. Elmer was snoring, and quite loudly. It was the first thing Albert heard when he woke up, the first thing that snapped him back to reality. His forehead was covered in sweat and his hands tingled and his feet were so, so sore, like he really was running away from the thing that was chasing him.

He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, just that it was big, and it was dark, and that he had to get away from it. Albert rolled back over in the top bunk, pressing his face into his pillow. He closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep, hoping that he was only whimpering slightly. It was only a couple of seconds before someone was rapping on the bottom bunk. “You alright up there?”

Albert groaned. He didn’t…not want to talk to Race. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t see that happening in the near future. “No,” he whispered back down. “I had another nightmare.”

Race’s hand popped up from the bottom bunk, and Albert dangled his over so that their fingertips just barely touched. “Come tell me about it,” Race said. It was an offering, sure, but it was more of a command then anything.

It always helped Albert to explain what he was going through. Davey was the best at understanding; he always knew exactly what to say or how to link his dreams to the real world to make them make sense (he also had nightmares, too, so that was bonus). But Race was the best at listening. Davey would interrupt him constantly, trying to get a word or two in. Race would sit with him for the entire night and listen to him talk and not say a word until he paused, and often it was to make a witty quip about something unrelated to lighten the mood. It was nice to have both sides.

Albert silently climbed down from the down bunk, jumped off the bottom rung, and sat on the edge of Race’s bed. “It was…big.”

“It was big?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it was big. I don’t know exactly what it was, but…” Albert started running his hands together. “I had to get away from it, or it was gonna get me-“

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me. You know that, Al.” Race slapped Albert gingerly on the arm. “Besides, you’re here, and not…wherever you were. You’re here, and you’re safe. Come here, you big goof.” He wrapped an arm around Albert’s waist and pulling him into the bed. “You know that, right? Friends look out for each other. You’re alright.”

Albert ducked himself into Race’s chest and listened to him breathing. “I know.” Elmer was, for the first time in a long time, relatively quiet, which let Albert focus on his own breathing, focus on trying to get back to sleep.

“You do?”

“I always have.”

part of an angst-off with @c0ronas & @i-guarantee !

prompt: “why did you spare me?” / “he’s dead because of you.”

ship: ralbert

word count: 2501

warnings: gore, death, bombs, blood, one (1) bad word

important: please send your votes anonymously to @c0ronas :) 

He could smell the blood running down the ginger’s face, pouring from a gash that just barely missed the top of his eyelid. Parts of his eyebrow were torn off in chunks from the gouge and Race wished he could say that the laceration on his face was the only one. The rich metallic scent, however, rose off of Albert’s body, and mingled with the sweat in the square, proved him to be more injured than Race could immediately fix. Maybe if he liked Albert a little bit more, maybe if he hadn’t just pulled him out of what he’d done—maybe Race would have tried to fix him.

Race swallowed, his hands gripping Albert’s shirt tightly in his fists. He strained against the fabric held tight against the skin. Race knew the he was constricting his breathing. Part of him thought it might help save him if he regulated his air. Part of him hoped he would die and Race could chalk it up to not knowing any better.

The people in the square were shouting. Shouting for each other and then—shouting for him. He pulled Davey’s voice from the crowd. Race narrowed his eyes, glaring down at Albert, who was still held up against him. He dropped him to the ground. “You have to go.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” Albert’s voice was small. Race could barely make out his words against the terrified backdrop of noise.

“If you don’t leave now they’re going to kill you and I’m not going to stop them.”

Hazel eyes peered up at him, begging for a lick of redemption. Race simply stared back down at him. He could hear Davey’s voice again. His leather shoes turned quickly on the stones underfoot and began running quickly, darting his way through the crowd. People weren’t exactly screaming anymore, no, not because they were scared, but because they were finding bodies—bodies of their friends and bodies of their families and—Race stopped short, staring at Davey.

He was hunched over on the ground, his brown vest torn in the middle. There was blood surrounding the tear but it didn’t seem like it was gushing—just a thin scrape, he was lucky—so even if he was in pain, he was ignoring it in favor of something far more important. “Davey, what’s—”

“He’s not…God, Race, he’s not breathing.”

Davey didn’t even turn around. He simply stared at the small body laying in front of him, looking, for the most part, content. The only thing that told Race that something was wrong was the massive abrasion on Les’s forehead, blood continuing to spill out of the wound even as his breathing stopped. Around the gash, red had already begun to crust over. Race closed his eyes, trying not to look at the boy. But he couldn’t.

“Did anyone else make it out?” he asked quietly.

Davey shook his head. “I don’t know. Jack and I were upstairs when the explosive went off. Most of the others were downstairs, waiting for us to answer, or just outside; we could see them through the window. The floor crumpled beneath us and I found Les and grabbed him and ran out…a beam had fallen across his head. I thought maybe I could…” The boy’s voice trailed off quietly and he pressed his hands to his face, stifling the beginnings of a sob.

Race’s face pinched into a scowl. He wasn’t hurt. He couldn’t even get into the partially collapsed building. He knew Davey would take care of the others and so he didn’t bother reminding him as he turned on his heels, shoving through the crowd. He could hear some of the other newsies calling his name, but he couldn’t stop to talk to them. He had to get to Albert before they did.

Race’s feet pounded on the concrete, his breath catching in his throat with every step he took. Down the street, turn left at the end onto 2nd. Slip into the alleyway that’s so tight you have to turn sideways and you can barely breathe through the passageway. It took Race nearly a full minute to get through the passage tonight, his chest heaving back and forth, trying to steady himself. Halfway through, he pressed his hands to the brick wall and tightened his fingers, praying to no one that he would find Albert where he was supposed to be.

The building was an abandoned drugstore, years of ivy and branches grown over the storefront. The blue and white banner above the forest green door had now faded to an ugly sort of brown color—and that was only the front of the shop. The back of the shop, which was the best way to enter, was practically falling apart—Race and Albert had picked their way into it nearly two years ago—with bricks strewn over the place, pipes and glass shards trailing on the ground, more green that was growing to cover up the pitiful desertion of the building.

Race stepped inside the structure. Albert had to be here. There was nowhere else he could go. By process of elimination and word of mouth, most of the boys had probably figured out by now that it was Albert who set off the explosive.

Race silently cursed himself for the action. He should have been watching his friend. It was only now that he realized he saw all the signs—Albert growing restless by the day, increasingly angry at Pulitzer for his actions, coming back from selling with a broken nose and claiming that the Delancey’s looked worse—and didn’t register any of them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Albert muttered, collapsed in a wooden rocking chair that they’d stolen from the Lodge, rocking back and forth slowly. His eyes stayed glued to the floor, his face pressed into a grimace of shame and fear and some other things that Race knew only Davey had the words to describe.

Race swallowed, running his hands together. “I had to come.”

“You don’t want to make sure I’m okay.”

The words stung Race only because they were true. Maybe in another life, he’d be crouching on the ground next to Albert, gently pressing kisses to his hands and telling him that eventually the boys would come around and forgive him. Telling him that everything would be okay.

Race couldn’t even muster up a half-assed reason for coming here. Part of him wanted to make sure Albert would be okay after he left. He couldn’t stay here. The boys would tear him apart. Part of him wanted to throw him to the dogs, half-dead in their burned and mangled state, and let them have at him, never mind the aftermath.

“What happened?”

Race was clean. Race had little blood on him, as did most of the boys standing outside: himself, Mush, Elmer, Finch. Jack, Davey, and Spot had been upstairs with Pulitzer, Katherine, and the rest of his office staff. And everyone else who was waiting downstairs, unaware, had gotten the bulk of the explosion.

“What happened?” Race echoed back. “What happened?” One more time, grittier, tougher, angrier. “What happened was that after your bomb went off, the supports inside the building fell. Davey fell through the floor, scraped up his back real nicely. Things started burning, Albert. Mush was outside with me but now he’s got a nice, old, burning patch of skin right on his shoulder where his clothes burned right off because he went back inside for Blink and Spot, dragged ‘em right out. Have you ever seen that boy cry? Well, he was tonight.” Race paused, bunching up his shirt in his fists as he struggled to finish explaining the events that had happened. “Les is dead, and I don’t know about any of the others because I came right he-“

Albert gasped. It was low and curt and barely audible but it made Race stop. “Les is dead?”

“He’s dead because of you.”

The silence infiltrated the room like wisps of fog, curling around Race’s feet and up his body until it threatened to strangle him. He wanted to say something else. He knew Albert wanted to say something else. But what do you say to that? He’s dead because of you.

Race knew how much Albert loved Les. The older boy was taken to the cheeky kid almost instantly, being one of the few that would never give in to his charming pouts, instead forming a compromise that taught him something. If Jack was busy, Albert was the first to volunteer to take Les with him, and it soon became a custom that the two boys would go off and sell together. Les always went to Albert first if Davey wasn’t anywhere to be found, and word of mouth said that Les told Albert things he’d never say to his brother. Albert and Les were as much as brothers as anyone here. He absolutely loved that kid. He’d die for that kid.

“He’s dead?” Albert finally said, as if he couldn’t believe what Race had said, even though he knew that Race wouldn’t lie about something like this, not even jokingly.

“One of the support beams fell over his head and split ‘im right open. Davey pulled him out and tried to save him but there was nothing he could do….” Race’s sentence trailed off quietly. “You know, every time I joked about trying to kill you…I can’t believe none of this would have happened if I did. I can’t believe you would have been so reckless—”

“You could have.”

“What?”

“When we were standing outside of Pulitzer’s office. You had my shirt all bunched up in your hands. You could’a snapped my neck real quick. Why did you spare me?”

Race shrugged, rolling his shoulders back as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his knickers, noticing for the first time someone else’s blood on them. He was the only one who hadn’t gone inside to retrieve any of the others. The thought pierced right through his chest, stinging him. He hadn’t gone inside because he stayed outside with the perpetrator himself, Albert DaSilva, who, previously, part of him would have done anything for. Now, he realized, part of him still would. The other part would not hesitate to block him up inside of this building until the end of time and let him starve out. Les was dead, how many of the others? Anyone outside would have gone in to help the others. Romeo, Smalls, even Spot, really—those guys were tiny and they didn’t stand a chance should a falling beam whap them across the head.

“They’re smart, Al. I got you out of there because as soon as they realized it was you they would have killed ya. As soon as they counted up their dead they would have killed ya.” Race paused, shaking his head as he turned around to face Albert. “You don’t deserve to die.”

“I killed Les.”

“You didn’t know you would.”

“Do you regret teaching me how to make molotov cocktails?”

Race bit his lip. “I wish I never did.”

The silence came back in the room. Albert ceased his back and forth rocking; Race stopped pacing the floor, careful that he wasn’t stepping on any of the cracked floorboards. “Race, I’m so sorry.”

Race stared directly at Albert and closed his eyes, not daring to meet his gaze. Part of him wanted to clasp his hands around Albert’s neck and hold him there until he passed out and part of him…he didn’t know what the other part wanted. The other part wanted Albert to be safe because after tonight, losing someone as close as him could possibly just tear him apart.

“I know you’re sorry, but sorry doesn’t fix what you did.” He paused, biting the inside of his lip. Race didn’t realize how hard, though, until he tasted blood in his mouth. He spit on the ground, curling his lips into a frown. “You have to leave. You can’t stay here.” Race wasn’t sure if he’d already said that to Albert, or if the information was new to him. He’d felt like he’d repeated it over and over. Maybe Albert, ignoring him, hoped that Race would just forget about it.

Race forgot a lot of things, but tonight was an exception. He couldn’t forget the initial burst of panic after hearing a growling thunder from inside the building and the look on Elmer’s face as he peered through the window and promptly screamed, shoving Finch to the side to get in. He couldn’t forget the sound of Jack yelling to the others, and he couldn’t forget not hearing his voice after several minutes. He couldn’t forget the way Davey sat, hunched over his brother’s body, a body much too small to bury. “I’ll buy you some time,” he finally said, meeting Albert’s gaze.

“They’ll…they’ll beat you up if they know you helped me get out.”

“Not if they don’t see your face again,” Race explained. “I can play the sympathy card, that you were scared, that you didn’t know what you’re doing. I’ll tell them they’ll never see you again and I’ll tell them that if they do that they have my permission to beat you into the ground,” he snarled, furrowing his brows together. “Maybe they’ll rest then.”

Part of him didn’t want Albert to leave.

“What about us?”

Race’s eyes trailed the freckles on Albert’s face, watched the way his hair fell into his eyes, watched his skin glisten with sweat in the moonlight that poured through the broken windows covered with vines. “You think after what you’ve done there’s an us?”

Albert was quiet as he stood up, brushing off his knickers. He crossed the small room to Race, put his hands on his face, and pressed their lips together, just one time, hungrily biting Race’s bottom lip as he pulled away. He ducked his face down and walked out, leaving Race alone.

Part of him wanted to reach out and run after him, never mind that his ribs might be crushed through the small passageway. Part of him wanted to apologize to teaching him how to make bombs in the first place—really, just little ones that they’d set off in abandoned buildings in the nighttime when they could sleep—and that all of it was Race’s fault to begin with. Part of him wanted to walk him back to the Lodge and beat up anyone who tried to hurt him and fall asleep in his arms and forget everything that had happened tonight. The part that won out was the part that dragged him out of the drugstore, back to the square. The part that won out took a look at the bodies on the ground, laid in a line; it was too dark to see the faces of the boys who laid dead. The part that won out went back to the Lodge and sat on the top bunk, swinging its legs slowly, and pretended that Albert wasn’t bitter or angry, just scared.

pairing: ralbert prompts: “he’s dead because of you” and “why did you spare me?”

warnings: mentions of blood; stabbing; knives; death; a ng s t

READ @auspicioustarantula ‘s FIC HERE

READ @i-guarantee ‘s FIC HERE

PLEASE READ ALL THREE FICS AND THEN SEND YOUR VOTES, ANON OR OFF-ANON, TO ME. THANK YOU AND GOOD LUCK TO EVERYONE!

“NO! DON’T!” SCREAMED ALBERT. His heart seemed to jump out of his chest as the black-cloaked figure in front of him raised a horribly shiny knife, ready to shove it deep into Race’s chest.

Tears streamed down his face, dragging muddy trails in the dirt on his cheeks. His ears rang and cold sweat dripped all over his wounded, tired body.

The two had been overpowered while on a walk home from a Saturday-night date and dragged into the crevices of a dark alley. The darkly clothed persons who’d pulled them into the shadows had fought them desperately for something - wallets, IDs, credit cards, Albert had no clue.

Both he and Race did their best to fight back, but in vain. Now, as one of the figures stood overtop Race, the other held Albert back, forcing him to watch as the knife was driven again and again into Race’s limp body.

Blood poured from the wounds, splashing in a quickly-forming pool beneath Race’s body. The person stabbed at Race, persisting until a final, awful groan escaped Race’s lips.

Only then was the killing motion stopped.

The killer roughly searched Race’s pockets, taking out whatever was in them - all of it. He shoved it into his own pockets and then stared at the body. Albert didn’t have to see his face to know that a smile was creeping into existence.

Albert was released as the dark laughter of the figures erupted in the silence, and he collapsed to the ground, managing to crawl over to Race.

He grabbed Race’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Tears fell down at a faster pace than before, out of rhythm with his awkward breaths.

“Why did you spare me?” he choked out, calling over his shoulder. The haughty laughter stopped and footsteps entered in place of the cackles, coming closer and closer until a bloody hand dropped on Albert’s shoulder.

“He’s dead because of you,” came a haunting whisper. It was breathy and faint, almost like a ghost of a voice. Haunting.

“No,” hissed Albert, staring blindly at the red-covered ground. His gaze snapped to Race’s face and he caught the light fading quickly from his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Race?” he whispered, leaning closer.

Race’s lips barely moved but a sound escaped them. A small moan of pain, of hurt, of terror. It made Albert cry harder and made the coldness of panic ripple through his body.

“Albie,” came the faint groan.

“Stay awake, stay awake,” chanted Albert, reaching out with a hand to push strands of hair from Race’s forehead. “For me. Please.”

Race reached up weakly, twining his fingers with Albert’s hand. “Tired, but I’ll try,” he whispered back. “For you.” Tears were welling up in his eyes and he winced as one fell down his marked cheek.

Albert wiped the tear away with a finger, a small, hesitant half-smile twitching the corner of his lips. “Remember-” his voice cracked and he paused, clearing his throat, before beginning again “-r-remember when we held each other like this?”

He could barely finish the sentence, so choked by emotion, but he did. And when Race shook his head, he added more in a faint voice. “When you broke a rib, yeah? I held you like this until help came.”

Recognition dimly lit Race’s eyes for a moment and he, too, smiled weakly. “Yeah, I remember that.” He coughed suddenly, blood spurting on the edges of his mouth and speckling his paling lips.

Albert’s grip on Race’s hand tightened. “You’ll be fine, okay? You’ve never gone where I can’t follow, and vice versa, and it’s not going to start now,” he choked out.

Closing his eyes slowly, Race nodded. “I love you,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that. Ever.”

Albert shook his head, tears flooding his eyes and falling down his face. “I’m never going to,” he assured him. “I- Race?”

Race’s bloody chest had stilled, and his eyes, though closed, didn’t wander.

“Race?” A sob caught in his throat and his shoulders started to shake. “No, no, no.” He shook Race’s shoulder with his free hand as gently as he could manage in his shaking panic.

When there was no response, the sobs began to come freely, faint whimpers falling from his lips.

“Oh, God, no - Race, please, open your eyes,” he begged. “Say something. Move. Something!” His voice cracked and faded and Albert whispered, in the quietest voice, “Please.”

Albert hadn’t noticed the bloody hand leave his shoulder ages ago. He hadn’t heard the fading footsteps when the assailants left eons ago. He was completely alone, washed in his grief, waves falling over him and cracking his heart wide open.

As the stars shone brightly overhead, seemingly unaware of the tragedy unfolding underneath them, Albert held Race’s body close to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly in a white-knuckled fist.

Quietly, he sobbed into Race’s shoulder, blood marking his face and neck.

here you aree :D

–

warnings: none

“TO THINK THAT I ACTUALLY LOVED YOU,” hissed Albert, turning away from Race. The pain on his face was evident and his eyes seemed completely void of emotion.

Race cleared his throat gently, looking down at his feet. “You mean so much to me. Please, just let me help,” he pleaded. He reached out to Albert, but the moment his hand touched Albert’s shoulder, Albert jerked away.

“We can’t ever start again,” he growled, glaring at Race. Race’s face fell, heartbroken. For a moment, Albert’s expression seemed to falter, filled with genuine concern, though it was quickly painted over with a new look of hatred.

“Don’t look at me like that,” whispered Race. “You’re everything to me, but the way you’re staring at me now, it’s like I’m nothing to you. Please can we talk this out?” Albert sighed, head falling back, turning around.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone break my heart,” he said, “yet here you are.” When Race moved forward a step, Albert held up his hand, shaking his head. “I’m used it it, it’s fine. Just…. Stop pretending that you actually care about me.”

Race’s eyes went wide and tears welled up. “I never meant to fall in love with you. And I regret it all now,” he said. His fists clenched at his side as he took a deep breath.

“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Albert, his voice filled with irritation. “You know damn well why things are the way they are. There is nothing more that we, that you, that I, can do.”

Albert whipped around, tears dripping down his flushed face. “Get out and don’t come back,” he ordered. The way he said it made a shiver rip through Race’s spine. The tone that Albert used was so cold that Race felt truly agonized at the pain that his friend must be feeling.

“No,” murmured Race. “Don’t shut me out. I have nowhere to go. Please.” The desperation was in his eyes, on his face, painted across his features so obviously that it physically hurt Albert to look at him.

“Just let go,” replied Albert cooly. “I never mattered to you. I never will.” He shrugged and his hands flew up, gesturing in a wild manner to the world around them. “There’s an entire earth for you to explore, and yet you choose me as the one you will break.”

Race shook his head. “No, no, I do love you,” he fought. “I do! Why won’t you see it?”

The laugh Albert returned was short and haughty, almost defiant of Race’s words. “I hate you.” He smirked and was silent for a moment as he twisted his head down, staring at his hands. “But I hate myself more. After all, I was the one who got us in this situation.”

Race’s mouth was open but no sound escaped. He searched his mind, trying to find words to put sound to. “Look at me,” he said softly. When Albert’s gaze didn’t raise, Race growled. “C’mon, don’t do this.”

Albert scoffed. “ ‘Don’t do this,’ ” he scoffed, mimicking Race’s tone of hurt. “Get over it.” Race’s face trembled as he held back tears. Albert didn’t flinch at the expression. “When it happens to you enough times, you get used it. Like me. But not like you.” He laughed. “You’re young and inexperienced in this game called ‘love’. A day will come when you’ll know not to go around breaking people’s hearts.”

He nodded to Race, tucking his hands into his pockets and turning. He began to walk away, only to pause and call over his shoulder. “One day you’ll realize not to go around seeking a perfect companion. Because the person you do find will disappoint you. They will not live up to your expectations and their heart will be broken. Not because of themselves, but because of you. You. Just like now.”

Race, his face fallen and pale, parted his lips, no words leaving them. Albert shrugged, his back still turned to Race. “You’re gonna learn,” he reminded Race. “Maybe not today. But you will. Not after you’ve been torn apart inside out, though.”

Race could hear the smirk in his voice and it made him shudder.

As Albert walked off into the shadows, Race looked out into the dark, a shrug and a sad smile being the only movements he made. Then he turned, walking away.

“Holy heck, man!” exclaimed Race, charging forward. He bear-hugged Albert, squeezing him tightly. “That was some  performance.” Albert blushed, his arms wrapping around Race.

“Thanks,” he said softly. Then he laughed, pulling away. He held Race at arm’s length, smiling. “Yours was great, too, you know. Had me tearing up for real.”

Race chuckled, shaking his head. “Thankfully we weren’t actually breaking up,” he sighed. “At least theatre gives me a reason to scream and cry without needing a reason - other than saying your lines,” he added.

Albert grinned at Race, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to Race’s lips. “I’m here anytime, Race,” he assured him, pulling back. Race nodded, tears still lingering in his eyes from the emotionally charged on-stage performance of tonight’s show.

“Love you, Albie,” whispered Race, slinging an arm around Albert’s shoulders, hugging him close.

“Love you more, Race,” Albert whispered back. His own arm went around Race and they stayed like that for a moment, simply being with each other, embracing each other, and loving each other.