let the bad in | hal & lucky (day 6)

[mat]

l u c k y
nachtnebel

Lucky tended to his wounds by the water, jeans rolled just beneath his knees to let the beach cool him off as best he could while stripping down. It wasn't terribly hot outside, but the snap change in temperature left him sweating all over and wishing for the weather to go down about ten degrees. The human body was designed to take incremental and gradual changes, not rash ones. He knew that from the transition from summer to fall in District Four and how it always gave him a head cold.

The rips in his jeans from Xov and Ines's blades brought welcome fresh air onto the skin that hadn't been exposed since he slept in the lodge for the first night. None of the cuts and scrapes across his body were beyond caring for, although he was sure Xovvy wanted to make it so. The hate in her eyes as she swung at him for the gazillionth time, surely she wanted him dead. Perhaps more than she wanted herself alive. "Xovvy doesn't know who she's messing with," Lucky whispered to his now-subservient companion who held the boy's roll of bandages atop its head.

"The last person who hated me like that, well." The boy patched the last wound across his hip and slowly descended onto the sand, thinking only of Gunner. The marks he left on the crowns of his teeth coated him with a wave of emotion. Lucky's fingers dug into the warm sand, hands gripping where he hoped Gunner's spirit rested. Was this where he died, where he dragged the boy's dying body to have some peace? Lucky's other hand burrowed too, grabbing onto what he hoped was Rita on the other end. If it weren't for the anthem showing her face, he might have convinced himself that she was still out there.

In the warmth, Lucky found himself daydreaming, tangled and twisted between covered and exposed in the darkness of his cloak. The hood prevented the beating sun from reaching his eye, but his ear raised, searching for any shifting sound in the water or sands that might prove dangerous.

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

It's hard to breathe, and if it wasn't for his brain controlling his lungs and heart, Hal would fall over dead as it's too painful to remind himself every second to breathe. Jericho and Felicity likely had a family, they likely had friends - and I stole them away from them because I want to live. It haunts him, and every where he turns, he sees their faces flashing before his eyes, and even when he closes them, they're still there. This wasn't supposed to happen, it's never how he imagined his life, yet this is his story, and he doesn't want it to end here.

The weight of his world sits heavily on his shoulders, and for a moment, it feels as though his bones are made of glass ready to shatter at any given moment. Yet he stands tall and strong trying to pretend everything is okay, but it isn't okay. It's far from okay, yet he tries to smile, tries to blink away the tears threatening to fall down his face. He stops in the water long enough to wipe his tears away before heading further down the beach where Lucky pointed to earlier.

I want to talk to him.

He said he was jealous, that Hal had done well, but maybe, it isn't supposed to be that way. Killing isn't supposed to feel good, it's not supposed to make people proud, yet he finds himself wondering where it all went wrong. Jericho didn't deserve it. Felicity didn't deserve it. Nobody deserves it, but it's what has to happen, and at this point it's time he learns to live with it.

Wiping the tip of his spear, Hal continues moving forward unsure of whether it's a trap or not, and when he sees Lucky, Hal puts his spear away and makes sure to keep his hands visible.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, and he tries to hide the pain lingering inside. "I never got the chance to thank you properly for helping me in the training center." He looks at the water trying to catch a glimpse of his own reflection. "So thank you."

I don't think I would be here if he didn't help me when I was failing to learn.

Credit to Pogue <3