When in Doubt You Made Me Stay Connected with the Beyond [Closed]

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

WHO| Howard and Wyatt
WHAT| Howard's petition gets approved.
WHEN| Backdated to the Cornucopia.
WHERE| Wyatt's room in D10.
WARNINGS| None.

Beneath the fear and the sense of impending death, Howard feels guilt for spending the night before the Arena in Wyatt's room, laying perfectly still under the covers trying to convince himself he's asleep. He's guilty that Wyatt feels the need to sleep on the floor, guilty knowing that Wyatt and Max probably wanted to spend their first Arena night as Victors together, guilty for having asked in the first place even if Wyatt hasn't complained.

Howard creates complaints for Wyatt. He sees resentment in the way Wyatt moves some of Howard's things aside, is sure that Wyatt wiping tiredness out of his eyes is a symbol of loathing. Howard has such a shell of anxiety that he can't let happiness or reason enter yet.

Eventually he falls asleep. He doesn't know how. It's a miracle in and of itself, to slip from ugly wakefulness to the balm of unconsciousness. His fingers twitch in his sleep and gibberish words eke out his lips, but other than that he seems almost peaceful.

The Escort doesn't come for him, not to his door or to Wyatt's where they know he's staying. Instead a single slip of paper is slid under Wyatt's door: Howard's petition form, with a red stamp saying only APPROVED.

Comments

[the_marshal]

At the foot of the bed, Wyatt lay awake for most of the night as well. Not because he felt the weight that Howard did, but because he knew Howard did. He could sleep in fine beds, on the cold wet ground, on the warm tickling carpet of his floor - the howls of the wild in his ear or the gentle cree cree of shadow crickets from the mirage.

He couldn't sleep knowing someone he loved was hurting.

So he lie awake, listening to the boy breath too carefully, pretending to be asleep. After, when Howard finally gave in and slipped under, he kept a silent watch on the ceiling, wondering what he'd do - what he could do, if they decided to come for the boy.

When the footsteps came, so soft and sinister outside his door, he was on his feet before he'd thought about it - the decision made.

The paper brought him up short. Then made him smile, the tension draining from his muscles.

He debated for a moment, but figuring Howard might rest easier knowing, reached for him carefully, giving the slight shoulder a gentle shake.

"Howard, wake up son," he took a seat on the edge of the bed, paper in hand. "I got somethin' for ya."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard wakes up with a start, eyes wild and dark and unfocused. Every muscle is tensed and a knife seems to magically appear in his hand; like Wyatt, he was prepared for them to come for him, for his Escort to tell him that the Stylists were waiting for to wish for the odds to be ever in his favor.

It's only because he meets Wyatt's blue gaze that he relaxes and doesn't bring the blade up to slit his own throat. He'd prepared for that, too. Figured it'd be easier to just do it if he wasn't fully awake and couldn't stop to think about it.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he says. He tries to steady his breathing. "What- what's up?"

[the_marshal]

As often as Max had unwittingly pulled a blade on him (he had just started to relax some as it was), Wyatt barely blinked anymore. He merely reached up and gently pushed it down with a callused knuckle.

"I think this is yers."

He held the form out, big red APPROVED staring up at Howard.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He looks at it. It takes him a moment to read it; the letters seem to mill around like sheep being rounded into order by a collie. And then it clicks.

"I'm dreaming." His eyes start to fill with tears, and then without sobbing, without his face scrunching up at all and with his breath only as fast as it ever is, he restates "I think I'm dreaming."

[the_marshal]

Without missing a beat, sensing the edge of the cliff in Howard's voice, Wyatt reached out and pinched him. Catching skin between two fingers and squeezing.

Not enough to hurt, but insistent.

"How 'bout now?" he smiled.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard makes a noise that's between a sob and a laugh, completely incapable of being categorized as one of the other. The tears drip, but they aren't out of sadness, and he doesn't feel the tightness of panic in his throat forcing them out.

He wraps his arms around Wyatt.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt just laughs, that pleasant low rumbling from deep in his chest. Giving Howard a strong-armed squeeze and then a good clap for good measure.

"See?" he chuckled. "What'd I tell ya?"

Deep inside, a knot loosened. Max, Howard, himself... all of them out.

It didn't let go completely, wouldn't until they were safe - away from the Capitol, but it was a relief, a warmth creeping through him all the same.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He holds onto Wyatt a moment longer before sitting up and resting against the headboard.

"Have the Games started yet?" As much as he wants to cling to this moment, to the burst of freedom blooming in his chest, he knows Ellie and Orc and R are still in there. And that soaks the mood, even if it doesn't sink it.

[the_marshal]

That sobered him some.

Some.

The smile faded, but the warmth lingered, pleasant and low in his belly. Like a hearty meal - homemade and filling.

"I think they're gettin' everybody now. I didn't hear anybody else come by until they slipped that under the door."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I don't want to watch the Cornucopia as it happens." He won't stop Wyatt, but he doesn't think he can manage. If he sees something happen to one of his friends...

He holds the approved petition to his chest. "Let's order food. I think I can finally eat for the first time in like, a week."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt gave the boy's shoulder another squeeze.

"Why don't ya see if ya can't get some more sleep in ya," he suggested. "An' I'll see about rustlin' somethin' up."

Yes, he could cook. Some. Mostly out of the fireplace, but he was getting better in the kitchen.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Okay." He settles back into the bed, but by the time Wyatt returns Howard will have moved to the floor, no longer feeling as if he can justify kicking Wyatt down to the carpet.

Before he falls back asleep he realizes with sadness that he has a confession for Wyatt, and that it won't be easy, but he still rests more peacefully than he has in many Arenas. He doesn't stir for hours. He doesn't dream.

[the_marshal]

He gave Howard a few hours. Waiting until the Cornucopia was well and past, before he roused him again, a bowl of oatmeal and fruit in one hand.

"Chow's on, Howard," he said, touching the boy lightly with his free hand, crouching beside him. "Rise an' shine, now."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

For the first time in a long time, he wakes without jumping. Without whimpering. Without that jerk that leaves him feeling like he's just touched a closed circuit.

"I love oatmeal." He loves any food, really, but oatmeal's one of the things John put him on to gain weight.

[the_marshal]

He held the bowl out with a smile and perched himself on the edge of the bed.

"More where it came from, if ya want it," he promised. "An', jus' in case ya wanna know, the Cornucopia's done. They made it through."

It had taken a while, searching for them all across the feeds, but he'd eventually gotten them all - everyone he could think of that would matter to the boy.