Chapter Text
July 19th, 1899
The heat is worse this summer. Kieran thinks it's been getting worse for as long as he can remember. He thinks it's been getting hotter with each summer on the sunbaked asphalt and brick streets of Manhattan. He supposes he's still not used to it. It's been nearly a decade, and sometimes he still feels so out of place. This whole city still feels. Wrong. Off. Too damn hot.
Or maybe it really is getting hotter with every week of every summer he spends out on these streets every day, a stack of newspapers on his shoulder.
Either way, it's hot. He's only been out of the shower for a few minutes, and there's already sweat on his neck. He wipes a bandana at it, scowling, before tying it around his neck. He's learned the hard way that a little sweat on his neck is better than a blistering sunburn.
He shoves a couple of the always too few coins he keeps under his pillow into his pocket and stands up for another day in the heat.
He looks around for Zeki before he leaves the lodging house, but his bunk is empty. There's a bunch of the younger guys still rushing around, but no sign of Zeki. Most of the guys still around still yell out greetings to him, so he yells out a loud,
"Come on! It's getting late," and rushes down the steps quickly himself for good measure.
He grabs a roll and cup of coffee from the church ladies on the corner, still walking fast. He keeps up his pace, mostly alone with the strange time he'd left at this morning, until the square comes into view. It's chaos this morning. Every morning. Guys running around everywhere, shouting. Smoking and finishing mediocre breakfasts. There's a fight happening somewhere near the steps that Kieran should probably go stop.
He heads for Zeki instead when he spots him. He's leaned against the concrete statue base, still looking half asleep. Kieran frowns, even though he's only about three-quarters awake himself. He's been really worried about Zeki lately.
"Headline up yet?" he asks Zeki, sliding up to him. Zeki tilts his head toward the board.
"Behind today," Zeki says as Kieran's eyes fall on the kid who's just climbed the ladder to write out today's headlines.
"Probably gonna be shit anyway," Kieran says, leaning beside Zeki and sighing heavily around his last gulp of coffee.
"Trolley workers still on strike. It's still hot," Zeki says with a half-grin. Kieran grins back.
"Mayor very concerned about trolley strike," Kieran says, nodding his head with mock seriousness. Zeki laughs.
"No bets on it this morning, then?" Zeki asks. Kieran shakes his head again, but he bites his lip this time, just a little. He thinks he catches the edges of a smirk on Zeki's lips at the words.
They used to make bets on headlines more often. Betting pennies and beers and sandwiches. And. A few other things.
It's been a while, Kieran thinks, eyes trailing to the undone buttons on Zeki's collar for a second.
This summer has dragged on for what feels like years. Every morning is another without a breeze or a decent headline.
He's bored and restless with it. Itchy from more than the sunburn he never manages to completely prevent. He needs something to break it all up. He's afraid that takes money he doesn't have. It might be cynical, he supposes, but it's felt true lately. There's no way to make an actual change to anything unless he can pay to make a change.
And he can't.
At least he's got Zeki.
"Don't have a counter bet," Kieran says with a shrug of one shoulder.
"Think I win anyway," Zeki says, tilting his head at the board again.
Trolley Strike Drags on For Third Week
"You can be first this morning then. I gotta go throw this out," Kieran says, meeting Zeki's eyes with a real grin for a second before pushing off the concrete to go throw out his paper cup.
"I'm raising the stakes next time," Zeki calls behind him. Kieran laughs as he strides to the corner. He's almost there when he turns back, about to yell a Save my spot back to Zeki, because he doesn't mind not being first, but he doesn't really want a late start to his morning because he got stuck behind those fighting guys. He's about to call that back, he's walking a little backward and sideways to call —
And he runs into a total stranger, losing his balance and dropping his thankfully empty coffee cup onto the guy's shoulder.
"Hey," the guy says, brushing off his shirt. The guy is about his age, Kieran thinks. He's a shorter guy, mop of curly dark hair and big eyes that look like they're deciding if they want to glare at Kieran or not. He's got on a shirt that's buttoned all the way up, a navy blue tie that's tight on his neck, a new-looking hat on his head, and pants that look recently hemmed.
He also looks nervous. Wide-eyed. Lost. Scared.
If Zeki was still standing beside him, Kieran would whisper to him that he'd bet that it's been all of three days since this kid had run away from home.
"Sorry about that," Kieran says, picking his cup up off the ground and then reaching out a hand for a handshake.
"It's okay. I should have been paying more attention," the guy says. He's very nervous, Kieran thinks, looking at him even closer. He tosses his cup over the guy's head and into the garbage can.
"First day?" he asks, looking back at the guy.
"What?" the guy asks, blinking those giant eyes of his at Kieran.
"You're here to sell papers right? Be a newsie?" Kieran prompts. The guy blows out a breath.
"Oh, yes, I'm, yes," he says, sliding his hands into his pocket. He rocks on the heels of his overly shiny shoes. Kieran bites back the urge to laugh. He sticks a hand on the guy's shoulder instead. It makes the stranger's eyes go even wider.
"Should let me show you the ropes," Kieran says because he's decided this new kid is intriguing. "I'm Kieran," he adds, with a smile he's been told is charming.
"Elijah," the guy says nodding, eyes on the hand Kieran still has on his shoulder. "And uh, thanks? I can manage, though."
"Are you sure about that? I've been doing this for years. Not every day you get to learn from a professional, you know," Kieran says, moving his hand but keeping his charming smile in place. At Elijah. Who is definitely intriguing. And not boring, at least for the morning.
"I—" Elijah says, looking down at his shoes for a second, but then smiling a little when he looks up and meets Kieran's eyes. "I guess a tip or two couldn't hurt?"
"That's the spirit," Kieran says, slinging an arm around Elijah's shoulder and steering them toward the distribution office.
"It seems like a bad day to start. The headline, I mean," Elijah says, keeping pace with Kieran and not seeming to mind the arm Kieran's slung around him.
"Nope. No such thing. That's your first lesson," Kieran says as the distribution bell rings out above them.
"What is?" Elijah asks. Kieran drops the arm over his shoulder so he can wave Zeki down at the head of the line. Zeki waves back, and Kieran grins. He turns back and grabs Elijah's arm this time, tugging on him to get to their saved spot faster.
"Headlines don't sell papers," Kieran says, stopping to give Elijah another quick grin. "Newsies do."
He pulls them into a proper run then, sliding over the banister to leap up next to Zeki. There's mild grumbling from behind him, but Kieran knows none of them would actually call him out on it, so he ignores it.
"Made a friend?" Zeki asks when Kieran and Elijah come to a stop.
"This is Elijah. He's new. Told him I'd give him a few lessons," Kieran says, leaning back against the wall.
"I'd take him up on it. Kieran knows the spots around here better than anyone," Zeki says, then he extends a hand to Elijah with a sincere grin on his face, and adds, "Zeki."
"Thanks for the advice," Elijah says, shaking his hand back. He's rocking on his heels slightly less, but Kieran can still see the nervousness in him.
Definitely a runaway, Kieran thinks. He's too old for being orphaned to be the reason he's here. He looks too clean and polished to have spent any time in a detention center or jail. Kieran can't hear an accent so that probably crosses out just arriving from someplace else.
That leaves runaway, normally. Kieran wonders what his story is.
"That's what I told him," Kieran says, nodding at Zeki, who looks at him with the slightest hint of a question in his raised eyebrow.
He never gets to voice whatever it is, because that's when the dispatch window opens and cuts their conversation off completely.
"You wanna walk with us?" Kieran asks, shifting his 100 papers to his shoulder and glancing at Zeki. He's sitting on a nearby ledge reading through the paper on his lap.
"I was planning to head out to Coney," Zeki says hesitantly, looking up at Kieran and shaking his head. Kieran frowns.
"You were?" Kieran asks. Elijah shifts next to him, trying to get used to the weight of carrying newspapers.
"I can handle it. Promise," Zeki says, folding his paper and holding up his hands.
"It's only been —" Kieran starts.
"Been two weeks since I fainted. Few days since I vomited," Zeki says, he raises his hand and presses his palm into the back of his head and adds, "not painful anymore."
"You do seem better," Kieran says, but he's still frowning. Elijah looks between the two of them, clearly confused.
"That's 'cause I am," Zeki says, then he pushes himself off the ledge with a leap, like he's making a point. Kieran shakes his head.
"Guess you can give Matteo your own update today, then," Kieran says. His tone is a lot softer as he relents. Zeki smiles at him.
"See you tonight," Zeki says, then he nods at Elijah, "Good luck out there."
"Thanks," Elijah says, frowning a little himself as Zeki picks up his papers and heads out.
Kieran gives Zeki a wave and watches him duck off toward the bread carts headed to Brooklyn before he turns back to Elijah.
"You look worried," Elijah observes, probably trying to puzzle that conversation out.
"Got kicked by a horse last month. Right on the back of his head," Kieran says, as an explanation. Elijah winces.
"I knew someone who—" Elijah stops himself and shakes his head, but Kieran doesn't really need him to finish the sentence. He's positive the end of it is: died that way; he knows of people who have died that way, too. He shakes his head, trying to shake away the memory of those first few days after Zeki's injury.
"He likes to sell in Brooklyn," Kieran pushes on, over-explaining mostly because he needs a subject change. "And for newsies? Brooklyn is Matteo Acierno's territory."
"I didn't realize newsies had territories," Elijah says, with a slight raise of his eyebrows.
"Like I said, you got a lot to learn," Kieran says, shifting on his feet.
"Guess so," Elijah says, then he frowns again. "Wait, if he sells in Brooklyn why does he get his papers here?"
"He lives here," Kieran says, then before Elijah can ask anything else, he adds, "we got too many papers to sell for me to get into a story that long. Come on."
Elijah shrugs and adjusts his own papers before following Kieran out into the streets.
By midday, it's so hot that Kieran's bandana is gross and damp against his skin, and some of Elijah's curls have started to flatten against his forehead. The sun is bright enough that Kieran can barely see, no matter how much shade he tries to duck into it. The combination of bright sunlight and sweat makes his eyes burn and sting, something else he's still not used to.
It's a decent selling day, though. Kieran's grateful for it. He's always glad for a good day, of course, a guy's gotta eat and keep a roof over his head. But it would have been embarrassing as hell to take the intriguing new guy out selling with him, promising to teach him tactics and tricks, only to have a disappointing day.
Thankfully, that hasn't been the case. They've unloaded most of their papers by the time they hit Little Italy, and both their pockets are heavier for it. Plus, Elijah has seemed receptive to both the newsie tips Kieren keeps throwing out and to his casual conversation and banter. So, it's really not a bad day overall.
Even if his eyes hurt like fuck.
Keiren ducks onto the sidewalk under a grocer's awning when his eyes start to water on him, telling Elijah he just needs a minute. Elijah follows him, looking slightly concerned. Keiren shakes his head, blinking rapidly and trying to clear his vision. He squints into the distance in all directions once his eyes stop watering so hard, making sure he can actually see. He's about to tell Elijah they can head out again when he catches sight of a guy in an all-too-familiar uniform on the block ahead of them. It's a sight that brings his day crashing down. Hard.
It's a sight that gets worse when the guy turns around and looks right at Keiren, and fuck, he's not just a guy in that uniform he's a familiar one. Who seems to recognize Keiren, too.
"Shit," Keiren says, feeling his stomach drop to his feet.
"Is something happening?" Elijah asks, tilting his head at him curiously.
Kieran doesn't answer him. Instead, he grabs his wrist again and hisses,
"Run."
Kieran lets go of Elijah's arm and takes off, papers tucked under his arm as he darts into an alley. Elijah keeps step with him, running even if he looks confused as hell.
They run several blocks before ducking behind a dumpster in a carefully selected alley. Kieran looks over his shoulder once they're hidden. They're being followed, but don't seem to have been noticed in their hiding spotting. For a second, Keiren wonders if he'd made himself more obvious by running, but he supposes it's a bit late for that now. Elijah looks at him out of breath and wide-eyed, but he nods when Kieran puts a finger over his own lips and shakes his head.
Kieran counts to thirty in his head then peaks around the dumpster as carefully as he can. The man in uniform is gone. He lets out a breath, then motions to Elijah to follow him back into the alley slowly.
He leads them further down the alley, then pulls open a very familiar green door and nods for Elijah to follow him into it. He shuts it behind him and leans back against it, heart racing.
"Sorry," he says, glazing over at Elijah. He's breathing hard and frowning, but Kieran's honestly impressed he'd kept up like that.
"What was that?" Elijah asks with a gasp.
"I uh," Kieran pauses, deciding if he wants to tell a still-a-stranger guy this story. He thinks he probably owes the guy after that, though, so he sighs and admits, "I got arrested a few years back. Spent some months in a detention center."
"Arrested?' Elijah asks. His eyes go wide again, but he doesn't look judgmental or anything.
"I ran out of money. So I had to steal my dinner on a couple nights," Kieran says, running a hand through his sweat-sticky hair. "I got caught."
"But if it was years ago, why did we run today?" Elijah asks, sliding his free hand into his pocket.
"Cause I escaped. Didn't finish my sentence," Kieran says with a shrug. There's more to it than that, but he figures it's enough for now. Elijah gives him a long look then he nods.
"I got kicked out of college last week," he offers. "I used to go home on the weekends, you know? But after everything. I just got on the train."
"Train from where?" Kieran asks, nodding himself. There it is, he thinks. He's been waiting on a reason all day. He doesn't know anything about college, but he's certain that kicked out means something different than failed. He thinks that's why Elijah told him.
"Philadelphia," Elijah says, shaking his head. "I uh —"
"Hey, no customers back here!" a familiar voice hisses at them.
"I know, I know, but I had an emergency out there," Kieran says, turning around to find Sam, fully dressed for a performance, makeup done and hair piled high on top of her head. Her performance look always makes her seem a bit older, more like a proper adult and less like the girl he's known nearly the entire time he's been in New York, the girl he's grown up with in some ways. She smiles when she sees him, though. Her face softens instantly, even before he adds, "is it okay if we hide out for a bit?"
"Of course it is," Sam says, walking up to pull him into a quick hug. The best hug she can manage in the giant hoop skirt she's wearing, anyway. "You know I'm always glad to see you."
"And you know I'm your biggest fan," Kieran returns, grinning at her and doing his best to squeeze her arm without messing up her costume.
"You always were," Sam says, pulling back and looking over at Elijah with a question in her eyes.
"This is Elijah. He's new to the newsies," Kieran says, still grinning, then he looks at Elijah himself and adds, "this is Samantha Taylor, vaudeville's most talented southern belle."
"It's a pleasure," Sam says, affecting her thickest South Carolina accent and curtsying with a laugh before extending a hand to Elijah.
"Is all this yours?" Elijah asks, gesturing around when he drops her hand.
"As long as I pay the bills," Sam says. She turns back to Kieran with a soft smile. "I need to get back out there. Stay as long as you need, okay?"
"You're a lifesaver," Kieran says, meaning it. Sam throws him another smile and then shuffles off her hoop skirt.
"Is she — " Elijah says when Sam's out of earshot. "Is she your girl?"
"No," Kieran says, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. He laughs a little before he really thinks it through. He doesn't know Elijah well enough yet to mention that no, he's really not her type . He's never been to Philadelphia. Or college. He's not fully sure if a college boy from Philadelphia would get his drift even if he did. "She's a friend."
"Oh," Elijah says, nodding.
"You get to the theater much in Philadelphia?" Kieran asks.
"No," Elijah says, shaking his head. He's making those big eyes at Kieran again, so Kieran grins and reaches a hand out to tug on the tie around his neck.
"You're in for a treat then," Kieran says, tugging on Elijah's tie and pulling him forward.
Elijah startles but keeps big eyes locked on him as Kieran pulls him into the wings by his tie. There's a flush Kieran is pretty sure he sees under those way too many buttons.
He doesn't know if college boys from Philadelphia would catch any drifts he tried to cast their way.
He figures it can't hurt to have a little fun with it anyway. At least today hasn't been boring.
Zeki settles back against the brick beam behind him. They're a little damp from wind gusts down on the river, and it's the best relief to the heat Zeki's had all day. He bends his knees and sets his feet flat on the familiar ledge. He likes it right here at this time of day. When he can watch barges work their way down the East River with the late afternoon sun reflecting off the water. He hasn't been here in a few weeks. He's missed it. It always makes him remember that there's a whole world out there beyond New York, even if doesn't feel like it, some days.
Footsteps approach behind him, and a shadow creeps onto his ledge. He doesn't have to look up to know who it is.
"How's your head?" Matteo asks before he even sits down. Zeki watches him situate himself on the ledge, thighs by Zeki's feet and legs dangling off the end. He pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and strikes a match on the concrete beneath him. Zeki's never been sure how he manages that on the first try, even with the humid wind that tends to gust on the bridge, but he always does.
"Better," Zeki says, taking the cigarette out of Matteo's fingers when he passes it his way. Matteo levels him a look that's not all that far off from the skeptical look Kieran had given him this morning.
"Yeah?" Matteo asks. He looks a little windswept himself today, Zeki notices. His hair is half in his face, and his shirt is untucked in a way that looks more fallen out than purposeful.
"Made it all the way here, didn't I?' Zeki counters, passing the cigarette back to Matteo.
"Does it still hurt?" Matteo asks, raising his eyebrows as he takes a drag off the cigarette.
"Not when I touch it," Zeki says, shaking his head. "Still got a headache every day, but it's not so bad. The air helps."
"Kieran give you that whiskey I sent over?" Matteo asks, nodding at him and passing the cigarette back.
"He did, thanks for that," Zeki says, smiling when he meets Matteo's eyes.
"I know that's usually. If you got a fever or — but I figured it couldn't hurt," Matteo says, eyes fixed on Zeki for a second as Zeki sucks in a long drag. He hasn't smoked in weeks either. It's been a hard three weeks. He doesn't actually remember what happened. He's been told a horse kicked up and got him right in the back of his skull. It explains the pain, so Zeki believes it. He just doesn't actually remember it. The first week after the accident he'd barely been able to get out of bed at the lodging house. His bunk kept spinning and it'd been tough to stay awake. When he was awake he kept vomiting. He didn't know if it was from the throbbing pain or the spinning.
"It didn't," Zeki says, passing the cigarette back again.
"Was gonna come see you, when Kieran told me," Matteo says, mostly to the river, but Zeki hears him anyway. "I didn't know if — one of my guys caught something in the spring and was laid up for weeks. He wanted visitors all the time. Another guy broke his leg and didn't want to see anyone for months. Wasn't sure what you'd want."
"I'd have taken the company," Zeki says, "but you don't gotta come all the way into Manhattan for me."
"You don't gotta stop and see me," Matteo counters, passing the cigarette again.
"Gotta cross your bridge to get home," Zeki says with a grin and a shoulder shrug, taking a drag.
"Yeah, but you don't haveta stop and wait for me," Matteo says, but he's grinning too.
"I like the view," Zeki says, blowing smoke out slowly.
"I've heard," Matteo says, taking the cigarette from Zeki, smoked down small enough now that their fingers brush when they pass it. "You've told me that one before."
"Missed this view," Zeki says. He's pretty sure Matteo swallows at that, and he runs the fingers of his free hand over the chain that hangs around his neck and disappears into his shirt.
"Brooklyn's got a lot to offer," Matteo says, something rough in his voice that's not from the wind or the smoke in his throat. Something Zeki hasn't heard in weeks.
"I've heard that," Zeki says, then he clears his throat. "Since we're talkin' Brooklyn. I uh. Made it out to Coney today."
"I figured, how'd you do?" Matteo asks, passing the end of the cigarette to Zeki.
"Real good, " Zeki says, catching Matteo's eye. "You know it's funny. I thought I'd have to fight to get my selling spots back. Figured people would jump on it. But the bellhop at The Oriental says no one's been selling there. In at least three weeks."
"Everyone knows those are your spots," Matteo says, running a hand through his hair and breaking eye contact.
"Yeah? Guess someone told 'em all that, huh?" Zeki says, raising his eyebrows. Matteo shifts a little, tugging on his chain again.
"Word gets around," Matteo says, shrugging noncommittally. Zeki shakes his head. He never knows how hard to push things.
"Guess so," Zeki says, stubbing out the ends of the cigarette. 'You hear we got a new guy in Manhattan?"
"When?" Matteo asks, raising an eyebrow at him.
"This morning," Zeki says.
"Don't think that's exciting enough to cross the river in a day," Matteo says, shaking his head and glancing over the water again.
"It just did," Zeki points out, and Matteo laughs.
"A kid?" Matteo asks, still laughing softly.
"Our age," Zeki says, then he looks at Matteo closely when he adds, "Kieran took him with him today. Showin' him the ropes."
"That why it's news?" Matteo asks with another raised eyebrow. Zeki doesn't miss the thing that crosses his face at that, though.
"Depends on if he sticks around, I guess," Zeki says, watching Matteo nod. Zeki looks out over the river again, then rolls his neck, feeling the heavy weight that's been on his head for three weeks now. It's not even a regular headache. It feels like how muscles feel when you're really sick, only circling around his skull. He squints up at the sun for a second. If he leaves now, he can probably hitch a wagon ride back for at least a handful of blocks on the Manhattan end of the bridge.
"I should head back home," Zeki says, pushing himself on his hands.
"Yeah, I should go, too," Matteo says, jumping up and sticking his hands in his pockets. Zeki pushes himself the whole way up. He gives himself a second to breathe, feeling Matteo's eyes on him as does. Luckily, he doesn't get a swoop of dizziness. He waves as he steps back on the main bridge path. Then he pauses.
"Thanks," he says, turning back around for a second.
"For what?" Matteo asks.
"The cigarette. The whiskey," Zeki pauses and gives Matteo a long look before he adds, "saving my selling spots."
"I'm glad you're back," Matteo says in response. Zeki knows him well enough to know that's the best answer he's gonna get.
Matteo looks over at him before he turns away. He bites his lip for a second, a motion so fast Zeki almost misses it.
Almost.
July 20th, 1899
Elijah squints into the bright sun of the square shoving the last of a bread roll into his mouth. He's wired this morning, even though he thinks he should be exhausted. After a run from the cops and a vaudeville performance, he and Kieran had sold the rest of their papers. Then Kieran had helped him take the two suitcases that currently hold everything he owns in the world from the hotel that smelled of beer he'd been staying at. They'd walked the four blocks back to the lodging house that most newsies called home, and Elijah had paid a week in advance with the money he'd made with Kieran that day.
So. He guesses that at least for a week. This is it. He's really doing it. It's strange. Just a few days ago he'd been sitting in a college lecture expecting life to go. Well. Certainly Not to the streets of Manhattan surrounded by strangers. Life changes fast, he supposes.
The bunk in the lodging house is more comfortable than the one in his dorm had been, though. It's easier too, being here. At school he'd. Even in his own room he'd never really felt like he could relax. Even before the past week. He'd been on edge and under stress. He hadn't felt like he'd really fit in.
The lodging house is old and dingy. The sheets are thin and the floors are sticky in places despite how clean the place looks. It's loud and chaotic. There'd been yelling into the night and playful shoves while people fought for showers and sinks in the morning.
Elijah'd felt better there than he had anywhere in a long time.
He thinks that's maybe unfair. These people don't know him. They don't have any expectations of him. Of course, that's less pressure. It feels like more than that, somewhere.
Maybe it's just. Kieran had lived up to his word and shown him the ropes. He'd rattled off tips all day and not made Elijah feel like an out-of-place kid. He's been nothing but kind, helping Elijah settle in, and introducing him around. Last night Elijah had sat on the back fire escape with Kieran and his friend Zeki until it got too late, watching the Manhattan bustle around them and hearing stories about life as a newsie. Kieran has been all quick smiles and hands all over Elijah.
He's been giving Elijah a lot of the same kinds of thoughts that had gotten him to this position in the first place.
The roll feels sticky in his throat at the thought and he tries to shrug it off. He's got no idea. He knows Manhattan is, well Manhattan. Everyone knows that. But he doesn't actually know if—
He startles out his thoughts when a hand slides to the small of his back. He looks up to find Kieran grinning down at him.
"Ready for day two?" Kieran asks. He's got hair hanging over his bright green eyes, a flush at his neck under the bandana he has tied there, making the freckles on his collarbone more evident. Elijah tugs at his own collar a little. Kieran and Zeki had told him, with smiles that felt genuine and not mocking, that he should leave the tie off and leave several buttons undone.
"Ready," Elijah echoes, smiling up at him.
They only make it a few more steps before Elijah notices something is wrong.
There's shouting and chaos, like yesterday, but today it sounds angry. There's a crowd around the concrete ramp that leads up to the distribution window.
Elijah looks over at Kieran, who shrugs at him and shakes his head, frowning.
Zeki spots them before they make it to the crowd and runs over.
"Wrong morning to be late," Zeki says, looking stressed and grabbing Kieran's arm.
"What's going on?" Kieran asks.
"They raised the price of the paper," Zeki says. Elijah frowns at that and watches as Kieran does too. Zeki looks at both of them and then adds, "they raised it for us."
"Shit," Kieran breathes, running a hand through his hair. "How much?"
"Almost double," Zeki says.
"Shit," Kieran says again.
The crowd of newsies at the ramp moves to circle around Kieran, Elijah, and Zeki instead. They look at Kieran expectantly, and it occurs to Elijah for the first time that Kieran is sort of unofficially in charge around here. He thinks about what Kieran said yesterday, about newsie territories. He wonders if he's been in Kieran's territory this whole time. It makes a lot of sense, now that he thinks about it.
"I'm gonna end up on the street," a tall boy Elijah doesn't know says.
"They can't do this, can they?" says another.
"Why would they do this to us?" asks a third.
The voices all start to blur together, but Elijah's pretty sure they're all addressing Kieran. He looks stressed out as hell, green eyes wide and frantic. He pulls the half-smoked cigarette out of Zeki's hand and takes a few drags before handing it back. Zeki doesn't complain.
"Got any ideas?" Zeki asks, taking his cigarette back.
"I don't know! I'm working on it," Kieran huffs, and the accent Elijah hasn't been able to fully place yet comes out a lot stronger than he's heard it up until this moment. Then Kieran shakes his head, "but if we don't sell papers? Then nobody is gonna sell 'em."
"You mean a strike?" Elijah asks. Kieran turns to him and his eyes light up.
"Yes, a strike," Kieran repeats, loud enough that a rumble goes through the crowd.
"Don't we gotta be a union to strike?" Zeki asks, tossing his cigarette down and stomping it with his shoe.
"But going on a strike makes us a union," Kieran says, then he turns to Elijah and asks. "Right?"
"Not unless we have a real plan," Elijah says. Kieran shakes his head.
"So we make a plan," Kieran says as if that's simple.
"You really think we can pull that off?" Zeki asks.
"Sure, if we work together, all of us," Kieran says. He looks less stressed and more excited now. He looks back at Elijah. "We can make a plan, right?"
"I guess?" Elijah says, putting a hand behind his neck for a second and trying to breathe himself.
"So we strike!" Kieran says, meeting Elijah's eyes again and then Zeki's. In the back of the crowd, a voice yells out an echoed strike. It starts to build to a chant in the group, and Kieran grins. They move toward the statue platform as the chant starts to swell. Kieran and Elijah stop in front of the statue, and Elijah watches with wide eyes as the crowd's energy picks up.
"How do we strike?" a voice calls. Kieran looks at Elijah.
"Well, they can't get the paper out without us, right? So we're that means we do have power here, we just have to figure out to show them. We have to show them how important we are to the paper's success." Elijah says. Kieran nods and then turns to the crowd.
"They think they can do this to us 'cause we don't matter, but we do! They need us, and we're gonna prove it!" he yells.
A chorus of cheers and yeah and strike rings out.
Kieran grins then turns back to Elijah. He steps in close to him. Very close. He leans on his arm, so close that the bend of his elbow rests above Elijah's head. Elijah's heart pounds in his chest for more reasons than the rebellion swelling around him.
"That went over real well, huh? What else should I tell 'em?" Kieran says, a leaned-down whisper that sends shivers up Elijah's arm he fights to ignore.
"That we have rights. We're not a union, but that doesn't mean they can change the rules on us with no notice," Elijah says, swallowing another hard lump in his throat. Kieran grins at him low and impressed, and Elijah's stomach swoops.
"Pulitzer and all his rich friends haveta respect our rights as newsies!" Kieran yells into the group, then he looks back at Elijah with a wink before he adds, "after all, headlines don't sell papers. Newsies do. And us newsies? We're not gonna sell a damn thing until they put the price back."
This gets an even bigger round of cheers. The energy in the crowd is growing by the minute. Kieran gives Elijah another long smile, then jumps on the statue base and starts to address the newsies again. By the end of his speech, there's no turning back.
Elijah watches Kieren jump down from where he's written STRIKE the headline board, covering all the day's headlines.
"How about that? Today we are the headline," he stays, jumping back over to where Elijah is standing. Elijah's still feeling a little shell-shocked by it all. He's only been a newsie for 24 hours. Now he's a central player in a strike.
"We gotta be in the papers to be a headline," Zeki points out, stepping beside them, but he's grinning himself, looking breathless.
"We need to get the word to as many people as possible. Those territories you mentioned yesterday? We're going to need them all for this," Elijah says.
"That makes sense," Kieran says. "Alright, now we gotta get newsies all over the city striking with us. All of you spread out and spread the word. But leave Brooklyn to me," Kieran says.
"Good, scares me over there anyway," someone in the crowd mutters, to a laughter that sounds a lot like agreement.
"Cause you get lost all the time, or 'cause of Matteo?" another guy says back, to even more laughter.
"A little bit of both," the first guy says, and Elijah watches another guy pat him on the shoulder for it.
Kieren rolls his eyes at the exchange. Then he turns and gives Zeki a serious look and says, soft and private. "It should be me that goes to Brooklyn."
"You're right. It should," Zeki says, just as soft, nodding. "I'll hit the Battery."
"Okay," Kieran says, still soft. Elijah feels like Kieran and Zeki are having an entire conversation with the tones of their voices that he's not catching onto at all. Then Kieran turns back to Elijah with another grin. "You can come to Brooklyn with me."
"I've never been to Brooklyn," Elijah says, then he feels ridiculous because, before four days ago he'd never left Pennsylvania. He'd told Zeki and Kieran that last night, too. They both just smile at him again, though.
"Now's as good a time as any," Kieran says. He looks back out at the crowd and yells, "be back by the night dispatch bell. We got a picket line to form."
"Why does this guy make people so nervous? Is he dangerous?" Elijah asks, keeping up with Kieran's fast steps in the direction he assumes leads to Brooklyn. Kieran laughs at that, loud and bright, almost like Elijah had startled him.
"Matteo's got a reputation," Kieran says. That's not really an explanation, but Elijah nods.
"Do all the territories have a leader?" Elijah asks.
"Some do. Some don't," Kieran says with a shrug, making a sharp turn down a street. The turn brings a river and looming bridge into view.
"And you're ours?" Elijah asks, trying to put it all together. Kieran stops for a second at that and blinks at him before shrugging and walking again.
"I guess?" Kieran says. "For this anyway."
"Strike leader is a pretty good title," Elijah says, grinning over at Kieran a little. It's dangerous. Kieran is. Elijah knows what he'd felt earlier, at the statue. He knows how his pulse picks up when Kieran looks at him now. Elijah knows he shouldn't let himself be around boys that make that thing happen. The one that's not supposed to happen.
It's been a day, and he already doesn't think he could stay away from Kieran if he tried.
"Never had a title before," Kieran muses with a grin of his own.
"Has a real ring to it, I think," Elijah says, eyes traveling up to the bridge in front of him. The biggest structure Elijah's ever seen in person.
"I could get used to it," Kieran says with another laugh, one that makes his eyes light up.
"No one is scared of the other territory leaders?" Elijah says, bringing the conversation back around as they cross the street.
"Remember when I told you about long stories?" Kieran asks, and Elijah nods, thinking back to yesterday morning. It feels like a lifetime ago. "This is another one. All you need to know right now is that we can't do this without Brooklyn. And we can't get Brooklyn without Matteo."
"Got it," Elijah says, following as Kieran starts up the steps to the massive bridge.
"Not scared of heights are you? Or water?" Kieran calls back as he finishes the steps.
"I didn't think I was," Elijah says, "but this is a little intimidating."
"It's rock-solid," Kieran says as they start to walk the bridge itself. "You know that they walked elephants across this when it was done? Just to show everyone how safe it was. If it can hold elephants, it can hold anything."
"Didn't think you had a lot of elephants in Manhattan," Elijah says, looking over the river to the water below.
"Circus elephants," Kieran says with a quick laugh.
"That makes more sense," Elijah says. "I saw a few of those as a kid. They are giant."
"Exactly," Kieran says. "Rock-solid."
"Proven with elephants and everything," Elijah says, laughing himself. He stares ahead, the industrial buildings of Brooklyn staring back at him from the other side of the bridge.
A few minutes later, a crowd comes into view, too. Guys about their age walk around the bridge, loading and unloading boxes. Guys pull out of the water, and he has to look away when he notices that half of them don't have shirts on. The ones that do have shirts clinging to their skin, so tight and see-through that they might as well be shirtless. Their pants cling to them just as tight.
Elijah swallows hard and focuses his eyes on the warehouse in front of him.
They're stopped by two of the guys, one in a wet shirt and the other holding a box. The guys glare at them, but before Elijah can be nervous, Kieran scoffs.
"Really? You know who I am," Kieran says, rolling his eyes. He calls over the heads of the guys and lets his voice carry. "Your security is stopping people who were here eight days ago now ?"
"Go," a voice Elijah can't see says, and the two massive guys part to reveal a guy who makes Elijah want to look away again. His hair falls around his face and his eyes are intense and his shirt is unbuttoned several buttons past his collar and there's a chain necklace leading into it. And.
"Newly promoted. They get over-excited," The guy, Matteo, Elijah assumes, says, nodding at Kieran.
"You might wanna work on that in your little kingdom over here, guards with bad judgment won't do you any good," Kieran says. Matteo lets out a sound that could be a scoff or a short laugh, then he shakes his head and reaches out for a firm handshake with Kieran.
Kieran returns the gesture and then puts a quick hand on Matteo's shoulder as he pulls away. Elijah watches it happen with wide eyes.
This interaction is somehow already not at all what Elijah was expecting.
"Heard you had a new recruit," Matteo says, nodding over at Elijah. Kieran grins and slings an arm around Elijah's shoulders.
"Matteo, this is Elijah," Kieran says. "Elijah meet Matteo."
"It's nice to meet you," Elijah says, possibly overly eager, reaching out a hand. Matteo makes an amused sort of face at him, and Elijah can't tell if it's at his expense or not.
"Likewise," Matteo says, shaking his hand with a raised eyebrow and slight smirk. "Bringing the new guy on your travels?"
"He'd never been to Brooklyn," Kieran says with a shrug and smirk of his own.
"That's too bad," Matteo says, looking up above their heads at the ropes of the bridge,"'cause he's still not in Brooklyn. You're about five steps out."
"You know it's weird that you can do that, right?" Kieran says, rolling his eyes again, but still grinning. Matteo takes a few steps back before nodding and stopping. Kieran motions for Elijah to follow and they walk toward Matteo.
"Now he's been to Brooklyn," Matteo says. Kieran laughs. Elijah still feels wide-eyed and thrown. Something is happening here. He's not sure what. But he thinks Kieran sounds. Fond . He thinks this sounds practiced somehow.
"You do love a detail," Kieran says, and Matteo laughs back at that. Then he frowns and shakes his head.
"Didn't just hear about your new recruit here," Matteo says. "Been hearing about you all day. People keep tellin' me that all Kieran's newsies are playing at going on a strike."
"It's not a game," Elijah says before he can stop himself. Kieran squeezes his shoulder and smiles at him. Matteo raises his eyebrows again, another one of those maybe-amused looks on his face.
"Oh really?" Matteo asks him. He nods at Kieran again." New spokesman?"
"New brains of the operation," Kieran says. "College-educated and everything."
Elijah feels himself flush at that. Matteo's eyebrows hit his hairline.
"That so? Guess you can't come to Brooklyn every time you got a question," Matteo says, something Elijah doesn't quite understand slipping into the end of the sentence.
"Guess I can't," Kieran says, voice dropping for a second. "You should hear him out."
"I'm listening," Matteo says, nodding at both of them. Still something in the air Elijah can't figure out.
"We're talking to newsies all over the city. But we need Brooklyn, need you. Your influence and your help. Everyone knows we can't do it without you. I just got here and I know. So you really. You gotta join up with the strike," Elijah says. He feels a little ridiculous by the end, but then he feels the warm smile Kieran sends at him for it.
"Still sounds like playing games to me," Matteo says, shaking his head after a minute. "And all these rich guys got their own cops. They're not playing around."
"We can organize against them. Like the trolley workers," Elijah says.
"The trolley workers got a real union. They were making more than pennies. They're all adults. Half our guys are thirteen, fourteen. Kids. Playing at strike," Matteo says, shaking his head.
"No one is only playing at it," Kieran says.
"How do you know that? How do you know the first time it gets rough, half your newsies won't cross the picket line?" Matteo says, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"I won't let 'em," Kieran says.
'Nah," Matteo says, shaking his head. "You show me something that shows you won't fold, I'll be there. But I'm not doing anything till then."
"Matteo," Kieran says, breathing out. His tone is lower, softer, like the way he'd talked to Zeki about his head injury yesterday morning. "Come on."
"Show me," Matteo says with a shrug. He starts to turn; like he wants to end the conversation. Then he pauses and turns back for a minute. "See what you mean about your schoolboy here, though. Real smart."
Matteo turns to walk away, and Elijah looks at Kieran. He expects him to look angry. Or worried. He's not expecting the rush of unmistakable sadness that floods Kieranl's face for a minute. He stares at Matteo's retreating form for a second.
Then he shakes his head and looks back over at Elijah.
"We gotta go if we're gonna make it back by that late circulation bell," Kieran says.
Elijah bites his tongue to not ask what they're going to do now. Bites his tongue not to point out that Kieran had said they couldn't do this without Matteo.
Bites his tongue as he watches one more sad look pass through Kieran's eyes; he bites his tongue about dozens of questions.
Matteo climbs up onto the bridge to have one last cigarette for the day. He always prefers to smoke in the open air. He thinks it makes it better, somehow. He could smoke just outside his door, but he always goes to the bridge instead.
There's a figure sitting on the bridge ledge with their knees curled in. Matteo blows out a long breath. He probably should have seen that coming. He walks over and settles himself down next to Zeki for the second time in as many days.
"Kieran send you for backup?" Matteo asks as he sits.
"Doesn't even know I'm here," Zeki says, shaking his head at him.
"But you are here about the strike?" Matteo asks. Zeki turns his head to look at him fully. It hits Matteo like it does every time. Zeki's hair is pushed back off his face, and he's giving Matteo those earnest eyes of his that Matteo's always had trouble saying no to. Or having any resistance against it at all. It was bad enough to see Kieran's sincere face earlier. Hard enough to walk away from that.
"You should join up," Zeki says, simply.
"I didn't say no. I said I need to see action first," Matteo says, shaking his head and looking out over the water.
"We could take better action with you on our side," Zeki says.
"One of our new guys here has a brother. Had a brother. He was a trolley worker. The transportation company cops beat his head in with a bat," Matteo says, letting out another breath.
"Everyone knows it's dangerous. It's just worth it," Zeki says, leaning his head against the bricks behind him.
"People could die," Matteo says. He doesn't add you might die. Three weeks I thought you might die. I couldn't handle it. You could die. Kieran could. 13-year-old orphan kids could die. He doesn't really have the energy to say any of that.
"People could die if we don't. Prices that high, people can't pay for beds and food. They'll die in the streets," Zeki says, looking at Matteo seriously.
"Yeah? Kieran's new schoolboy tell you that one?" Matteo bites out. It comes out a bit more bitter than he'd intended. Zeki frowns.
"Jealous?" he whispers. Matteo flinches. He's about to bite back, are you? but then Zeki shakes his head and cuts in again. "Sorry. Didn't mean that."
"Yeah, you did," Matteo says, but he shrugs. "But I deserved it."
"No, I didn't. It's just been a hard day. Shitty month. You know I don't—" Zeki shakes his head. "Sorry."
"I'm not tryin' to be difficult here. I do get that this is important. I do care. That's why I'm so worried about it," Matteo says, running a hand through his hair. He knows Zeki's day was just as long and terrible as his. From waking up to see the paper price increase to strike talks, he knows they're both on edge.
"I know you do," Zeki says sincerely. More earnestly than Matteo can handle tonight, honestly.
"Guys like us have enough trouble with the regular cops. Those hired guards these rich guys got. It's not gonna be easy," Matteo says.
"And I get that. I really do. But I also do think we gotta," Zeki says, gently and slowly.
"I can't jump in if we're gonna only go halfway," Matteo says.
"When have you ever seen Kieran go halfway on anything?" Zeki asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Never, but Kieran can't take down one of the richest guys in New York by himself," Matteo says, "or even with you and the schoolboy at his side."
"And you?' Zeki asks, nudging his shoulder against Matteo's, just a little.
"And me," Matteo admits, swallowing down a grin. "But I'm not just speaking for me."
"I know that, too," Zeki says. "Just keep thinking about it?
"I will," Matteo says. He runs his hands over his shirt, half to smooth it out and half for something to do. He feels his forgotten cigarette in his pocket. He debates lighting it but decides against it.
"You don't like him?" Zeki asks. He's fidgeting himself, opening and closing his hands as they talk.
"Kieran's schoolboy?" Matteo asks, shaking his head. He hadn't disliked him. He'd been a little overeager, maybe, but if Matteo had been in a better mood that probably would have come off as more charming. So that one's mostly on him.
"Yeah, Elijah," Zeki says.
"I can see why Kieran does," Matteo says with a shrug of one shoulder. He considers presses for details. Or asks Zeki what he knows about Elijah, or what Elijah knows about any of them. It's been a long damn day though, and, truthfully, Matteo would struggle to muster the energy for those sorts of questions on a good day. So he doesn't.
"He's been pretty great already, with the strike and all," Zeki says. Matteo nods.
"I figured," he says. For several seconds neither of them says anything, and Matteo looks at the moon reflecting off the river before he swallows hard and says, "it's late."
"It is," Zeki agrees, sounding like he already gets Matteo's drift. Matteo turns to face him.
"You wanna stay?" he asks.
"I didn't come here at night just to —" Zeki starts, flushing under the moonlight in a way that's hard to not stare at. Matteo nods. He's sure that's probably true. He's also sure it's crossed Zeki's mind as they've been sitting here. Just like it has his.
"I know. But do you want to?" Matteo asks. Zeki bites his lip but then nods. Matteo feels a flush of his own rise on his chest.
"Just 'cause you'd worry about me getting home this late?" Zeki asks playfully as they stand up.
"You are injured," Matteo throws back.
"All healed now," Zeki says, falling in step with him as they descend the bridge. Matteo leads, even though Zeki knows the way.
"Were you just gonna sit there all night if I didn't come outside?" Matteo asks, stepping onto the rock path. "Or were you planning to come in and find me eventually?"
"I know what time you smoke," Zeki says with a shrug, "but I probably would have at least knocked after a while."
Matteo shakes his head, then pushes open the warehouse door. He slides it behind him and locks it from the inside. Most of the place is rundown and forgotten. Cement bricks that's still piled in places, empty boxes lining the walls. Matteo takes his ladder to the spot in it he's made his. Up on the lofted second floor. Up to where he's moved old pieces of wood that had probably been huge shipping crates once to create walls. Up to where he's created a room away from the world for himself. He stacked two mattresses and covered them in blankets to make a bed, moved an old red armchair he found in an alley, and a slightly tilted table as a makeshift desk. There's another table on the far wall he stacks clothes on. There are a handful of his few possessions thrown around, a couple boxes containing a handful of photographs and letters, and other assorted small things stacked under his desk table.
It'd probably be easier to live in the lodging house or to get an actual apartment with a few of the older guys, one of those cheap places a few blocks from the Brooklyn distribution window.
But he'd wanted the privacy.
Matteo's got his secrets. More than a few of them. They're easier to keep if he can close the rest of Brooklyn out at the end of the day.
He slides a panel of wood that acts as his door shut after Zeki steps in.
For a long several seconds they stare at each other. Matteo holds Zeki's eyes and feels his chest rise and fall. Zeki takes a step toward him and Matteo moves closer, too.
Then Zeki reaches a hand out to the back of Matteo's neck and pulls him in, kissing him hard.
Matteo's got a lot of secrets.
This is one of the big ones.
He kisses Zeki back, fisting a hand in Zeki's shirt as he does. He lets Zeki walk him backward until his back hits the solid cement wall that runs down the side of Matteo's room. He presses into the kiss, feeling Zeki slide a hand up close to his hair, fingers at the back of his neck. Zeki's other hand is tracing down the chain around Matteo's neck, pressing firm and following it all the way into Matteo's shirt.
Matteo licks at Zeki's mouth and uses his free hand to tug at Zeki's suspenders. He pulls on one side for a second, long enough to hear Zeki gasp into his mouth, just a little. Zeki presses his hips into Matteo in response. Matteo presses his own hips up and starts to slide the suspenders off Zeki's shoulders. Zeki drops his hands long enough for Matteo to get them all the way off of his arms but doesn't break their kiss.
He gets his hands in Matteo's shirt when he brings them back. He tugs it up, and Matteo moves his hands this time to let Zeki pull it off of his head. Zeki runs his hands over Matteo's skin, running from his chest to his stomach as Matteo starts to undo Zeki's buttons. He arches his hips up into Zeki's again when Zeki's hand slides over his stomach. Zeki presses back against him, firm enough that Matteo can feel exactly how turned on he is.
He gets the last button undone on Zeki's shirt, then breaks away for a second, breathing hard. Zeki's face is still less than a couple inches from his, and his hips are still firm against Matteo's, and he's got a hand teasing toward the button on Matteo's pants. Matteo breathes for a second. They should probably move, Matteo thinks. They have done this. They have gotten off against this wall in the past. Hell, Zeki has fucked him against this wall more than once.
But Matteo's not actually sure he believes that Zeki is fully better. He's not sure that the constant headache Zeki mentioned yesterday isn't more concerning than Zeki's letting on. So he doesn't think standing for this is the best idea. For Zeki.
He kisses Zeki again, long and searing, and he trails his own hand down the button on Zeki's pants, before pulling back again.
"Chair?" he says, mostly into Zeki's mouth. Zeki furrows a brow at him, tilting his head like a question. Matteo purposefully presses a firm hand against the seam of Zeki's pants and says, "you on chair," then he takes a breath and blows it out slowly before he adds, "me on knees," as he starts to undo Zeki's button and open his pants.
Zeki sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide.
"Not gonna say no," Zeki says, whispering even though they're alone. He takes a step back and puts a hand on Matteo's neck again as they walk toward the chair. Matteo stops them when Zeki's legs hit the chair, and he tugs Zeki's pants and underwear off, fast enough that Zeki groans. Matteo pulls Zeki's pants to just past his knees, making his suspenders hit the floor with a soft thudding sound. Zeki kisses him again, hard. Then sinks back onto the chair.
He sits far enough to the edge of the chair that it's easy for Matteo to slide between his knees when he sinks to the floor in front of him. Zeki shudders when Matteo runs a hand up his exposed thighs.
"Shit," Zeki whispers, on a slow and shaking exhale as Matteo moves to wrap a hand around his cock. Zeki's already hard, and he groans again when Matteo starts to stroke him.
Matteo looks up at him for a minute, watching a flush spread across Zeki's face as he works him. He's glad he got Zeki to sit, so they can just do this without Matteo worrying Zeki is gonna pass out the whole time. He also thinks it's—
He has no idea how to say, I was worried like hell about you, and he doesn't know how to say, it's been too fucking long, and he doesn't know how to say, I've missed you.
So he leans in and takes Zeki's cock in his mouth instead.
There's a message in that somewhere, Matteo thinks.
Zeki gasps above him, and he slides his hand into Matteo's hair as Matteo starts to suck him. He takes Zeki as far into the back of his throat as he can, listening to the groans and curses Zeki lets out above him as he starts to work him in rhythm. He keeps a hand at the base of Zeki's cock and his other hand squeezed on Zeki's thigh. He uses his hand to keep stroking Zeki when he runs his tongue up and then over the head of Zeki's cock before taking him to the back of his throat again.
Zeki's hand fists tight in Matteo's hair. He starts to shift his hips, and Matteo pulls back long enough to nod at him. Zeki groans again, and then starts to fucking into Matteo's mouth, just a little, as Matteo keeps working him with his mouth.
For several minutes it fills the air. Zeki's soft groans and gasps, the smell of sweat and sex, the shuffling sound of Zeki's hips moving as he rocks into Matteo's mouth, the sound of Matteo's own short-of-breath gasps around Zeki's cock, and his own groans when Zeki tugs on his hair.
Zeki slides his other hand onto Matteo's face, on his cheeks, and Matteo can feel Zeki staring down at him. Matteo looks up at him without pausing his mouth or his hand. Zeki's eyes are blown out wide like they get. And his open shirt lets Matteo see just how hard he's breathing.
Matteo runs his tongue over the head of Zeki's cock again, and Zeki's hips rock up harder than before. His leg starts to shake under Matteo's other hand. So Matteo speeds up the motion of his mouth and hand and lets Zeki rock his hips and fuck into his mouth.
He starts whispering above Matteo like he does sometimes. Matteo doesn't catch all of it, but he thinks he makes out something that sounds a lot like missed you like this, love to see how damn good you look like this. He's not sure if Zeki means for him to catch it or not. He never is. Zeki does that, sometimes. When they're fucking and he's getting close. Late at night or early in the mornings, these little whispers that Matteo has long decided not to respond to.
He wouldn't know how.
Zeki's leg shakes harder under Matteo's hand as his fist squeezes tighter than ever in Matteo's hair. He tugs on Matteo's hair a little, and Matteo works the base of his cock harder in response, keeping his mouth around him.
Zeki comes, and Matteo works him through it, swallowing and not stopping until Zeki starts shaking back, just a little.
"C'mere," Zeki says, sounding shaky and taking a hand out of Matteo's hair and nodding for him to stand up. Matteo stands, licking his lips as he does.
Zeki reaches for his hands and tugs on him, "No, c'mere," he says, pulling Matteo onto his lap. Matteo gets his knees around Zeki's and folds into it when Zeki kisses him again. He puts a hand on Zeki's shoulder, careful not to tug on his head at all. Zeki's still shaking as they kiss. He licks at Matteo's mouth and slides a hand down his back.
He moves his other hand to Matteo's pants button and Matteo shifts without breaking their kiss so that Zeki can tug his pants and underwear off just enough to get his cock out over them.
Matteo kisses Zeki hard to stifle down the loud sound that threatens to escape his lips when Zeki's hand wraps around him. It's been. It's been longer than Matteo wants to think about, right now.
Zeki doesn't waste time, stroking him hard and fast with his other hand firm against Matteo's back. He strokes Matteo and kisses him for several long minutes; until Matteo's head is spinning and there is heat rising in him. He clutches at Zeki's shoulders as Zeki takes him closer and closer to the edge.
Zeki pulls back from the kiss after a few minutes. He's looking at Matteo with one of those faces. The ones he makes. Sometimes. When. Matteo can't look away. He swallows hard, rocking his hips into Zeki's hand, just the slightest. Zeki twists his wrists a few times, enough that Matteo can't fully bite back a loud groan.
He's already so damn close, so close from taking Zeki in his mouth like that. He's shaking under Zeki's hand in almost no time at all.
He starts to come in shakes and sputters around Zeki's hand, cursing as he does. Zeki works him through, keeping his hand stroking him through it.
"Stay," Zeki whispers as Matteo comes.
Matteo doesn't know what he means by that, but he collapses his head against Zeki's shoulder and curls into him after he comes, anyway. Zeki moves both his hands to Matteo's back, pulling him in even closer.
They both breathe for several minutes until the air around them settles again.
After a few minutes, they both pull their underwear back on but kick their pants and shoes the rest of the way off. Zeki pulls his shirt off his shoulders and leaves it on the chair.
By the time they climb onto Matteo's mattresses, Matteo's exhausted. The impact of today hitting him all at once. From the stifling heat to strikes to sex, it's late, and today's been long as hell.
Zeki kisses the top of his head when they settle in under Matteo's blankets. Then he kisses Matteo again softly. He wraps an arm around Matteo and pulls Matteo in close. Matteo curls into his side, resting his head on Zeki's chest.
It makes him feel warm and content and safe. Like he never wants to move.
This part is an even bigger secret. Maybe a piece of the biggest secret of all.