Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-10-12 09:52 pm
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in thecapitol2013-10-12 09:52 pm
Entry tags:
Every Wall I Lean on Transforms [Closed]
Who| Howard and Wyatt
What| Howard's got another confession to make.
When| A week after aliens.
Where| Hospital and physical therapy center in the Capitol.
Warnings/Notes| Teen sexuality.
It's hard to pinpoint the reason behind the storm. Any hope that the tension surrounding him would break with the alien attack, the clear delivery upon the prediction of hard times. But all the drama and carnage did nothing to dispel the sense of heaviness that lingers. The air feels humid, electric, every sound muffled as if giving way to a silent voice saying that things are about to get worse.
Maybe this is the way things always are before Arenas, and this is just the first time he's noticed it. He tucks his hands deeper into his coat (some overly-ornate embroidered thing from his stylists, etched with feathers) and waits by the hospital door. He knows Wyatt's been here lately, and as Wyatt can wait by Maximus' bed, Howard can wait for his sheriff to emerge.
His chin feels like it's hanging heavier these days. There's a weariness in the very cords of his eyeballs. He tip-tip-tipped up on the scale under John's weight-gain diet, but in the last week, since quarreling with Eponine, those numbers have sagged. There's a sore on his lower lip in the shape of an incisor-bite.
He waits for Wyatt to come out.
What| Howard's got another confession to make.
When| A week after aliens.
Where| Hospital and physical therapy center in the Capitol.
Warnings/Notes| Teen sexuality.
It's hard to pinpoint the reason behind the storm. Any hope that the tension surrounding him would break with the alien attack, the clear delivery upon the prediction of hard times. But all the drama and carnage did nothing to dispel the sense of heaviness that lingers. The air feels humid, electric, every sound muffled as if giving way to a silent voice saying that things are about to get worse.
Maybe this is the way things always are before Arenas, and this is just the first time he's noticed it. He tucks his hands deeper into his coat (some overly-ornate embroidered thing from his stylists, etched with feathers) and waits by the hospital door. He knows Wyatt's been here lately, and as Wyatt can wait by Maximus' bed, Howard can wait for his sheriff to emerge.
His chin feels like it's hanging heavier these days. There's a weariness in the very cords of his eyeballs. He tip-tip-tipped up on the scale under John's weight-gain diet, but in the last week, since quarreling with Eponine, those numbers have sagged. There's a sore on his lower lip in the shape of an incisor-bite.
He waits for Wyatt to come out.
no subject
"Howard," he gave the boy's shoulder a fierce squeeze, and gave a little tug to pull him closer - safe beside him, "I ain't goin' anywhere."
Not so long as he had any say in it.
no subject
There are no more meaningful three words in Howard's vocabulary.