[closed] you rolled in like a wrecking ball

[broadsidewaltz]

 Who| Hubert and The Signless
What| Some getting over 'dying' and a whole lot of awkward comforting an acquaintance/friend...
Where| Hubert's room, on District 9's floor
When| Soon after their respective deaths in the arena, way before the blackout
Warnings/Notes| idk a lot of sadness/comfort/hubert being unable to emote properly

Getting used to having died-- well, it still hadn't really completely sunk in. Perhaps it was stranger to feel in the midst of battle, and then suddenly, the second-long realization that he was losing his life... only to wake up, later, unscathed. Needing time to process this alone, Hubert had mostly taken to shutting himself in his room, just for a bit-- vowing to train harder than ever once he was done reflecting on his mistakes. Of course, he had put himself in a position where he was helping someone-- and he shouldn't have even deigned to. Trust was obviously a bad idea, so why had he found himself doing just that?

Ugh. He blamed the solidarity he had sensed among a couple of people he knew. Namely his rather interesting mentor, Harley, and an interesting acquaintance- the Signless, was it?

Hubert sighed, stopping in his useless pacing to perch on the edge of his bed, having showered earlier that morning- feeling fresh any way but mentally in a simple long black-sleeved sweater and plain grey slacks that clung to his legs. Nearly leggings, at that. It was just more comfortable that way.

Maybe it was best he rethink his options. Getting close to anyone here was probably a bad idea, lest he let himself get unnecessarily altruistic and softhearted again...

Comments

[69problems]

"Thank you," he said in a small voice. It really did mean a lot to know that Hubert cared enough to offer support, both now and in the nebulous future. It helped him feel just a little bit less alone, and that was some small comfort.

"I always -- I always knew this could happen and I thought I'd be able to handle it when it did, but..."

But he wasn't handling it. He wasn't handling it at all and it frightened him to think that he might sink back into the dark, depressed place he'd been after the jungle arena. He'd felt so alone and powerless then too.

"It's still not right. It's not right that they can decide who lives and who dies, that they can take everything from us and think nothing of it because our suffering is amusing to them."

His hands tightened even more and angry red tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

[broadsidewaltz]

And now, he found himself claiming responsibility for this other's well-being. Perhaps it was easier that way-- to worry about someone who wasn't himself. To think about someone else's problems instead of pointlessly fret over his own, over the shame that enveloped him and made it difficult to walk out that door.

He knew he would, probably sooner than later. But for now-- he kept his arm steadily wrapped around Signless.

"It isn't," is all he can really say, agree with. "It isn't right at all."

But what can they really do, is the question. ... Maybe he'll spend his time thinking on that, instead of mindlessly training. A concrete solution to the whole issue was more important. Sending everyone home, where they couldn't be touched by the Capitol. But wouldn't someone have to stay behind to reduce that very technology to rubble? Hm. No use over-thinking it now-- it was probably best to get Signless seated.

So he'd pull back, just the slightest, to look down at him-- before blinking-- sounding completely taken aback, as well:

"Are-- you alright?"

Those tears were-- red. Was he bleeding? Did he have an infection, a condition?

[69problems]

The worst part was that it wasn't even that easy. For so many people going home would mean going back to a place just as bad as or worse than the Capitol. There was corruption and violence everywhere across the multiverse and escaping it in one place didn't mean eradicating it everywhere else. The Signless had given that a lot of thought once he'd learned his own future and realized that if he ever left Panem and returned to Alternia he'd be going back to die.

At Hubert's question he laughed, a hollow sort of sound, and reached up to wipe those tears away with one of his sleeves.

"Not really, no. Eventually I might be."

He didn't realize that wasn't exactly what Hubert meant.

[broadsidewaltz]

He was one of the luckier ones, it seemed. With a hopeful future ahead, with a reconciled relationship with his brother and friends, Hubert figured it best everyone return to where they belong. After all, the prospect of waking up knowing you were to die again, and perhaps again after that, and yet again, brought back for the sole purpose to die again...

He wasn't sure anyone should have to live through that. (Not that he knew anyone well enough to know what they may have suffered through back home...)

The hollow laugh took him by surprise, the words even more so.

"Have you not seen a doctor? I-- bleeding from the eyes cannot possibly be normal, not even for an illness...!"

Hubert found himself a little more urgently concerned, gaze boring into Signless' eyes as if to find out what may be happening exactly.

[69problems]

"Bleeding --"

He frowned and looked down at his red-stained sleeve. Ah, right. Most human bodily fluids were clear. Of course Hubert would find his red tears strange and off-putting.

"It's okay. I'm not bleeding. My tears are naturally this color."