AN: This was meant to be a drabble. Oops?

Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney. I am not Disney

"I Know"

Sarah Jacobs has always known that she likes boys.

It makes sense to her. After all, boys are tall and strong and handsome. And they're charming and daring and mysterious. Boys are exciting.

But this doesn't mean that she doesn't know what it's like.

Like right now, when her parents and Les are still asleep and the sun is just beginning to grace the city skyline and David comes scrambling in through the fire escape window.

And he freezes when he sees her, sitting at the foot of her bed, still dressed in her nightgown, waiting for him expectantly with her hands folded in her lap and her expression complacent.

"Sarah! I, uh…" David's voice is shaky; uncertain.

And Sarah takes a moment to examine him: brown curls stick out from his head at various awkward angles, and his clothes are a rumpled, wrinkled mess—and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a series of red markings that trail all the way down his neck and throat.

And it's very clear that wherever it was that David spent the night, he hadn't been alone. And he hadn't been doing a whole lot of sleeping, either.

"You were with Jack." It's not even a question. It doesn't have to be.

And in an instant, David's face goes absolutely panic-stricken; his breathing hitches and all of the color immediately drains from his cheeks and his blue eyes widen with a flash of pure terror.

But Sarah knows.

"Davey?" Her voice is gentle; urging. "You can tell me the truth."

You can trust me.

And David's gaze sinks to the floor, and his ears redden with what can only be shame.

And Sarah's heart nearly breaks watching it, but still, she remains at her spot on the bed.

And then, finally, ever so slowly, David nods, biting down on his lower lip.

"I won't tell anyone," Sarah offers, wishing for a better way to help. "Not Mamma, or Papa, or Les—not another soul."

And he stays quiet for a long time, probably turning her words over again and again in his head.

And then he looks up.

And, for the first time since he climbed into the bedroom, David's eyes fully meet hers.

"Thank you." David's voice is barely above a whisper.

And Sarah, at last, rises and moves over towards her brother.

And she doesn't even hesitate before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.

And David buries his face in her shoulder and begins to cry.

"Shh. It's okay, David. It'll be alright."

And they stay like that for a good long time: Sarah holding David as he clings to her, trembling and sobbing against her sleeve; hot, salty tears staining the fabric.

"I know, Davey. I know."

Sarah knows. She knows a lot better than David probably even realizes.

Because Sarah has always known that she likes boys.

But the thing is, she also knows that she likes girls, too.

Maybe even a little bit more.

Because girls are sweet and soft and pretty. And they're graceful and warm and comforting. Girls are safe.

Sarah knows that it's wrong; she knows that she shouldn't feel that way, but as hard as she tries she just can't seem to make the feelings stop.

Sometimes, Sarah is not even sure that she wants them to. And that's the scariest part of all.

And she knows that that's the exact same thing that David is going through, too.

And soon David begins to babble as he cries, pulling Sarah back from her own thoughts, with only little muffled utterances of "not fair" and "love him" managing to reach her ears.

"I know," Sarah says again.

And she does.