Being from Harlem, you didn't get to see your boyfriend, Spot that much. He wanted you to stay in Brooklyn, but your friends needed you. You were basically the 'Queen/King/Other' of Harlem, which made it hard for you to even think of leaving. Even though you loved Spot, it was impossible to be in a relationship being seperated for so long. As time grew on, you grew distant. It was not anyone's fault, as you just grew apart and broke up on peaceful terms. Everyone knew it was kind of a soft spot for Spot, and never mentioned you on purpose. But then the Manhattan newsies decided to strike against the paper price raise, and you and Spot were thrown into the same room for the first time in months. It was awkward, but within hours you were back to being okay with each other. Everyone kind of watched it progress over the days, until you guys were friends again. When the strike was over, you were on your separate ways again, but not without saying one last goodbye. It hurt to be so close to him again, and even though part of your heart was tearing apart at the thought of not seeing him again, psrt of you knew you had to leave it where it laid.

•••

"Goodbye, Spot."

"Bye, Y/n."