My Hungry Ghost of Hopefulness [Closed]

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

WHO| Howard and his interviewers (Rat, Eponine and possibly Roland), Howard and Orc, Howard and R, Howard and Wyatt
WHAT| Howard petitions out
WHEN| Before the latest Panem Nightly
WHERE| Tribute Suites
WARNINGS| None, but suicidal ideation may come up.

The paper in his hands is crumpled and grimy with sweat. He's been holding it in his hands for the last two days, picking it up over and over again to check times, check room numbers, make sure that he's ready to make his appointments. He doesn't sleep well, waking from nightmares where he misses his alarm, where he forgets what language is during his interview.

Despite his best efforts, he hasn't really been able to make himself look presentable. Typically he looks better after a few weeks in the Capitol to put some fat on his painfully skinny body, but the stress of waiting for his petition to process has done him no favors. He has dark circles under his eyes, which appear almost bulbous atop his hollow cheeks. His fingers on each hand are covered with scabs up to the first knuckle. His lips are covered with canker sores and he's developed a twitch in his right leg that ambushes him when he sits down.

He doesn't feel ready, and he doesn't feel like he'll feel any better once he's done with each interview. He gets to the doors over an hour in advance and paces outside them, lost, it seems, in his own shallow breathing and possible rejection. He knows, deep in his stomach, what he has to do if his petition is denied. He knows he can't handle another Arena. And yet while he isn't allowing himself to contemplate willfully, images of how he has to die start trickling into his mind and lurking in the shadows.

He knocks on the door at exactly the correct time for each interview.

-/-

After each one, there is no dissipation of tension. There's no feeling of relief, that he's done the hard part. The hard part is still the waiting, and that's still happening, like a car wreck he's going through in slow motion. He tries to sit by himself in his room but, to put it politely, he psychs himself out.

(The truth is that he finds himself unable to breathe, finds his legs unable to support his weight, starts shaking so hard he has to lie down and stare at the ceiling as if the white paint above him will swallow him up.)

He gets up and takes the elevator to District 4 and District 10. He goes and he finds his friends, no matter how they currently feel about him.

Comments

[the_marshal]

Understanding washed over Wyatt's face. A gentle shift, softening his worry - the lines easing around his mouth - if not erasing it.

"You've done all ya can, son," he said, settling back down into his chair and gesturing for Howard to take the one next to him, patting the seat with one big hand. "Any word on when you'll know?"

He didn't want to think about it, not sure what he'd do if the boy had to go in without him (if he had to watch, unable to help), but the sooner they would know, one way or the other, the better.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"No. They want to keep me stressed. They're trying to drive me out of my mind." It's not just a conspiracy theory, Howard thinks; it's exactly the sort of thing the Capitol would do.

He curls up in the chair, looking near the verge of tears. "What are we going to do, Wyatt?"

It's no longer just him. He knows it'll break Wyatt down too.

[the_marshal]

"We're gunna wait," Wyatt replied, a straight, unhesitating reply, meant to steady them both. "An' we're gunna carry on as if we're gunna get the answer we want."

Because what was the harm in believing? In giving themselves a respite, for however long they might get?

"An' then, if by some chance, it ain't the one we want, we'll deal with it." He reached out and rested a hand on Howard's shoulder. "Together."

Somehow.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I can't do that."

He already can't sleep, can barely eat. He rests his hand over Wyatt's.

"The night before the Arena, if we don't know by then - can I stay here? I mean, I understand if you want Max over instead, but..."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt shifted, turning sideways in his seat to be able to look at Howard square. Wanting what he said next to be good and clear.

"Howard," his hand squeezed gently in emphasis, "yer always welcome here, whether Max is here er not. Don't you ever think that jus' cause I love him don't mean I don't love you jus' as much. Yer family, the both of ya."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I just figure-" Howard breathes deep and closes his eyes. "I figure you might just want to start cutting your losses. Since I might be dead soon. And Max ain't going anywhere."

It makes perfect sense to him, and the sorrow of that doesn't escape him. Howard's felt like he's been heading towards the gallows since the last Arena ended.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt had felt it himself there in the museum. The bite in his throat, the burn in the back of his mouth as the invisible noose tightened each morning; but while he'd accepted the likelihood of his own death, the possibility of Howard's touched a low, cold place in his gut.

It made him want, fiercely, to put a bullet in Snow - in that woman, Cruentus. It made him want to take Howard fishing. To just... take him away from the Capitol an' let him be the young man he should have been.

It made him feel all the more helpless, knowing he couldn't do either.

Not where it really counted.

"Ain't none of us got any promises as to what tomorrow will be," he said, voice gone deep. "All we can do is make the most'a the moments we got now. An' Howard, I promise you, ya ain't gunna spend yers alone."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Okay." He closes his hands over Wyatt's, his own fingers just as rough but spidery, long and with knuckles that seem to stick out between slender bones. He doesn't cry. He doesn't have tears left, even if he does feel comfortable enough around Wyatt that it would no longer be a source of any shame.

"I wish I could, you know, enjoy it." He's read stories about prisoners on death row who're too sick with fear to eat their last meals. "I want just a carefree day with like, you and Orc and R, but I know that no matter what we did my head would be like-"

He makes a gesture like a piece of paper. "It'd be stuck on that little spot at the bottom of the petition. The little checkbox. I'm stuck in there."

[the_marshal]

"Breathe, son," Wyatt advised, pushing and pulling gently on the boy's shoulder, easing him into a soothing rock. "Maybe..."

It might be nothing more than false hope, but really what else could he truly offer?

"Maybe I could ask. Bein' a mentor's got'a be good for somethin'."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He does as he's told, drawing in long, shaky breaths.

"Maybe. Any little bit helps, Wy." Howard doesn't know if he really believes that, if by asking Wyatt will just incentivize the Capitol to reject the petition instead. But it's something, and he can see that Wyatt wants so badly to help.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt nodded, but decided then to say nothing further about the petition itself. He might be able to fully take either of their minds off it, but he could try.

"After ya get it, what's the first thing ya want'a do?" he asked, trying to smile. "Whatever ya want, we'll do it together. An' R an' Orc too, if ya like."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Let's bring Ellie along too. And Eponine. We can, you know. Gag her so she can't talk and that'll make her about a hundred percent more tolerable to you, right?" Howard tries to laugh, as if what he said was actually funny. He's trying very hard.

"Let's go somewhere in the wilderness. Not like the Arenas, but like...a lake, or something. A beach."

[the_marshal]

"She'll find a way to make her upset felt, I'm sure," Wyatt murmured, exhaling a long breath through his nose.

But he didn't say no. He could tolerate a bit of name-calling if meant so much to the boy.

He thought for a moment, head turning to look out the window, the city turned to gold in the setting sun.

"I hear there's a fish pond in that fancy garden they like to throw their parties in. Ain't really wilderness..." he looked back Howard, looking a little sad.

It was a far as he expected they'd let them go.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Oh, God. Did I tell you about the time she gave me a box of chocolates, but all the candy had been replaced with broken glass? She's like, a creative sourpuss."

It's bizarre how Howard can say that with absolute fondness.

Howard shrugs. He babbles to try and paste over the fear. "Can we eat the fish? I mean, is that a thing we can do? Like stab a koi or something and roast it over a fire? You know how to fish, right, you're like, Mr. Survival Skills."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's brow wrinkled, making a mental note to never put anything Eponine offered him in his mouth. With a little shake of his head, he reached for his glass again.

"Ain't sure what a 'koi' is, so I can't say how good it'd taste," he admitted, polishing off his drink. "But if it swims, got as good a chance'a catchin' it as anythin' else."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"It's one of those Japanese fish, like a big goldfish. Pretty sure they're not poisonous. Pretty sure I'm immune to most poisons by now anyway."

He knows that's not really true, but he's survived eating things that would make most people blanch. It's the way of things. He leans onto Wyatt's shoulder. He's still shaking some.

"Can you teach me, sometime? I can catch with a net but not with, like, a rod."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt was steady and firm beneath Howard's cheek, his breath deep and even, heart an easy rhythm in his chest. A sturdy oak, unbowed despite all the Capitol's efforts.

"A'course, son," he smiled, shifting to drape his arm over the boy's shoulders. He leaned a fraction closer and dropped his rumbling drawl to a stage whisper. "I'll even teach ya to make my secret bait."

For which Howard's strong stomach would be handy.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"What's that?" Quite suddenly, all the exhaustion that Howard's been running himself into seems to hit. It's not that he feels relaxed, but that this modicum of safety is the closest he's had to comfort in a long time.

"Can I lay down in your bed?"

[the_marshal]

"I'll tell ya after we get the good word," he promised, smile softening into something warm and fond.

Then, with a last pat of Howard's shoulder, he pushed back his chair and moved to stand. Nodding in answer to the boy's other question.

"Come on, I'll introduce ya to Doc an' then ya can go on an' rest yerself for a bit."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"You can't leave me hanging like that." Howard gets up, far too slow and creaky for a boy his age, and shuffles over to Wyatt's bed. "I'm only going to lay down, not fall asleep. Tell me about Doc?"

[the_marshal]

Across the hall, the water was still pounding inside the bathroom, a smooth voice still crooning out - the words of the song muffled, but discernible enough to understand the singer's appreciation of fine young ladies.

Crude in subject, but not unpleasant to the ear.

"Doc Holliday," Wyatt amended as he settled himself into the chair beside his desk, turning out to watch the boy settle. "I met him jus' before I was brought here. He lent me hand when I was in sore need'a one."

Wyatt still wasn't entirely sure why they'd brought him, over any of the others, but Doc was proving to be quite the entertaining house-guest and it was hard to worry about too much of anything with the man around.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Does Max know he's here?" Howard says, smirking. He sees Wyatt and Max's relationship as absolutely perfect, and as such can't imagine that there would ever be trouble in such a paradise. It also sows quite a lot of jealousy.

He settles down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and breathing deep. "I think I'm going to die of stress before anything else. I think I'm going to prove human spontaneous combustion is a thing."

[the_marshal]

"As long as ya try not to do it on the bed," Wyatt murmured, in that slow, gentle drawl he used whenever he was trying to soothe. To smooth over rough edges, to ease hurt.

It was a talent he'd developed as a lawman, and had honed here to a skill.

"An' a'course, he does. Doc would be a hard one to hide, even if I had a mind to."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I think the Capitol could manage fire-proof sheets."

Howard pulls the blanket up a bit, then stares at the ceiling, feeling so tired he can almost see Holliday's voice lilting in.

"They didn't bring my parents, you know."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt was silent for a long moment, watching Howard as he seemed to melt into the mattress - either finally relaxing some, or simply giving in to the exhaustion Wyatt could see in the boy's eyes, in the tight set of his mouth.

"...Do ya wish they had?"