Undertow \\ [Kire]

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

The wind blew a path through the fallen leaves
And there showed a crack in the old oak tree

I don't know what I expected.

When I imagined what the trip back to the Capitol would be like, I never thought I'd feel so useless. I thought - I don't know, it's stupid really – that my advice would somehow make a difference to the tributes that I would be in charge of, and yet.. I haven't really seen them very much. All day they train, all day I wait, and when the time comes to provide some sort of meaningful advice to these people who are probably going to die, I can't think of much else to say 'cept for no good pointless pep talk speech.

At the end of the day, when everyone's gone to their rooms to pretend like they're sleeping, I peek out my door and shuffle over to the elevator, turning my head every few seconds just to make sure nobody's following. I guess it doesn't matter; I'm not a tribute, so who cares if I go up to the roof? Probably nobody.

There's no guarantee that I'll be alone once I get to the top of the building, but I emerge through the door and find that I'm faced with only the darkness of the Capitol night – which is to say, I guess, that I'm faced with the brightly lit streets of the world below. It's louder than I expected, but not altogether annoying. I like looking at the world from this height.

Before I can have a half second of calm – it feels like a half second, at least – someone else bursts onto the roof.

I can't help it; I jump maybe two inches in the air and start to move away before I realize that I'm being an idiot. In an attempt to hide my fear, I smile and look back down at the streets again, ignoring the stranger before even getting a good look to see who it is.

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

After years of training in a gym, preparing for this day, she found little help in the hours upon hours of practice that the other tributes put in. Instead of using her time to gain skills, she spent maybe an hour or two trying to perfect something she wasn't strong in. Mostly it was her use of the bow. She had had no problems with the trident, and the knife was simple enough. At this point there was no reason for her to pick up a completely new weapon - so why not work on an old one. As much as she loved the trident, the water, and the knife for being distinctly District four, there was also a sense of pride in the fact that she was at least partially competent with the bow. Besides, it did make her seem less of a threat when she fumbled with arrows and took poor shots at targets. Really, she was merely hiding her full strength.

But now it was supposed to be her time to relax, to sleep and rest up for the incoming onslaught that cast an ever present shadow over everyone. Instead of laying under the sheets of her too-comfortable bed and staring at a too-perfect ceiling, she made her way up a poorly watched set of stairs leading up to what could only be the roof. There was no fear in her, knowing that they were already doing the worst to her that they could and therefore she could fear nothing from them, and she threw the door open with a lack of care that caused a not inconsiderable amount of noise. It caused her to flinch slightly as she realized it was perhaps a little too loud, and she scanned for Peacekeepers.

She found none, but her gaze did fall upon a very tall, very gangly boy who stood looking out over the Capitol. In the dark she had no idea who it could be, but he didn't look like any of her fellow tributes. A name tugged at the tip of her tongue but she couldn't bie down on it. Still, she knew him somehow.

Making an approach that was much quieter than her entrance, she moved to stand near the boy - a fair distance away still, but close enough that he would notice her. It might be nice to talk, or even to stare at nothing and yet everything together in silence.

Or maybe to make a friend.

OTHER
Words: 410

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

The wind blew a path through the fallen leaves
And there showed a crack in the old oak tree

The stranger walks up beside me and stops there, not talking, not moving, just staring at the open expanse of cityscape as the night rolls by, overwhelmingly noisy but peaceful all the same.

I turn my head to get a better look at the person and find that it's a girl, all blonde hair and light eyes, standing maybe a foot shorter than me so I have to look down at her face. Now I wonder again.. are tributes allowed out of their rooms, this late at night? Not that it matters, I guess – I suppose they could confine her to her floor at night as a form of punishment, but what's the point of an unlocked door if they don't care if people wander around, especially if they're about to face imminent death?

For a second, I wonder if I should say something. Should I do anything at all, or just turn around and leave the girl to her peace? Standing there awkwardly, I sorta lean forward and look down at the Capitolites strolling around below, faint hints of laughter reaching all the way up here, regardless of all the other noise.

After a silent minute, I speak up, gazing down at the streets below to avoid looking this stranger in the eyes.

”Are you a tribute?” I ask, hands clasped around the railing built in to keep people from falling.

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

They stood in silence so long that her need for words became something similar to her lungs' ache for air during a long dive. Her mouth twitched as she fought to clamp down on all of the stupid things she could say to break the tension, any flailing attempt to push through the surface of that silence and breathe in wonderful sound. Below, what seemed a hundred miles away, laughter echoed off of the stone structures to tickle at her ears. It wasn't enough, and she grew more and more desperate at the passing moment. Soon enough she gasped, but instead of saying something she merely listened.

"Are you a tribute?" The boy wouldn't look at her, instead gazing almost fixedly at the vast expanse before them. She studied his face in this profile view, still searching for his name. She knew it, she was certain she did, but there was no way for her to recall it. It bugged her insistently.

Her eyes remained locked on him, trying to pick out the one detail that would lead her to knowing who he was. No luck, but she kept looking. "Yes." She answered slowly, the reality driving itself further home in her breast as she admitted the truth. There was no way she could deny it, but that false sliver of hope in her chest blew away and she knew everything was ending in that moment.

But not this boy. He was silent and still as ever and it bothered her that she didn't remember who he was. She bit her cheek, thinking. "Are you?" But it felt wrong to picture him as her fellow, he looked a little too old, and without the same freshness that all of her fellows had. He wasn't some old man but he looked aged. Who was this boy?

OTHER
Words: 303

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you

”Yes,” she says, staring up at me. I know she's looking at my face, I can see it out of the corner of my eye, but still I fix my gaze on the streets below. Of course she's a tribute – she doesn't look or sound like a Capitolite, and there's a helplessness behind her voice that's unmistakable.

”Are you?”

It's only a sentence, but the words completely floor me. My jaw drops open for a second as I rush to figure out what the answer is, but I shut it again before I look like a fool. The truth is, I was a tribute. A year ago, I stepped up onto the platform in District Nine, proclaimed myself a killer, and faced my fate without hesitation.

I told myself on that first day that I would be a victor, and here I am.

(It turns out I was really volunteering to be a killer, and I was oh so willing, even from the start.)

It doesn't feel right, saying that the Games are all behind me. I'm in the Capitol just like the rest of 'em, shoving down memories like I'm trying to keep myself from retching, and I'm not separated from those experiences. I am a tribute as I am a victor; it's always going to be a part of me.

The silence stretches on as I consider an answer, and when I finally land on something that sounds right I turn towards her, sorta looking her in the face and sorta gazing up at the starless Capitol sky.

”I am,” I say, trying to stop myself from looking down at my toes. ”Er, I was, I should say. Not anymore, but still.. kind of,” I laugh nervously, fidgeting with the sleeve of my sweater. Ever since I won, the opportunity to talk about the reality of my situation hasn't really presented itself, 'cause people are always making assumptions before I can even say otherwise, congratulating me on my victory, celebrating my bravery, thanking me for the short-lived wealth I provided to my District. You'd think I'm a hero after all that, but I sure as hell don't feel like one.

When I speak again, I'm more mumbling to myself than anything.

”It's not .. not really a title you can leave behind, once you've lived it.”

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

At once she knew he had some connection to a tribute, his jaw falling slack as he seemed to search for the right answer. She tensed, suddenly nervous she had stepped on his toes. Of course, everything to do with the Games was a sore spot for anyone not from the Capitol - which he clearly wasn't, judging by his dress and speech. In the back of her mind she almost giggled as she realized he looked a little like a hooked fish, his mouth open like that. Perhaps he was, speared on the end of her question like so much bait.

Finally he seemed to have been placed back into his element, words able to form in his mouth and come forth from his lips like little bubbles. "I am, er I was, I should say. Not anymore, but still.. kind of." It was as good a hint as she would get without directly asking, but all she could pull from it was that he was a Victor. It was almost shaming that she wasn't able to recall his name just from that, but she hadn't been paying as much attention to the previous Games as she should have, instead trying to help Reef with the fact that there were twenty-three kinds dying and the last one killing them all. 

”It's not .. not really a title you can leave behind, once you've lived it.” He was definitely a victkeStill, she knew this boy's face and it was driving her crazy. How could she not put a name to his face, or at least his height. He stood so tall, about a foot taller than her, that he should surely be immediately recognizable. Finally the name slammed into her mind and she almost gaped at him before it flew from her lips. "Colgate O'Leary? The one they call Soap?" She took a deep breath in as she silenced herself from beginning to ramble on about nothing. What else had she expected to see here, Victors trained the tributes from their district year after year until they produce another Victor who will mentor for them. 

Even knowing that, she couldn't help but stare at him.

She had known he was tall, had known he was strong and said to be kind, but she hadn't known just how awkwardly elegant he was. Attempting to hide her blatant amazement with him, she turned her wide eyes towards the city spread. Silence had fallen between them after her outburst, but she felt more bold now that she knew who he was. "Did you have to leave anyone behind?"

Her mind was sliding back to Reef and Ray, remembering how they both carried their own sort of elegance. Their parents had raised them to be proper, and also to kill or be killed. They all held their own bit of refinement, just like there was a quiet patience that seemed to surround Colgate. Only his was from being polished by blood, that she was certain of.

Would I be like that, if I come back?

Maybe.

OTHER
Words: 508

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you

”Colgate O'Leary? The one they call 'Soap'?”

I nod, and a shadow falls across my face.

As far as nicknames go, I know people have called me worse. Who knows why, really - I guess I was just the one they chose to pick on, the unlucky guy who looked enough like a victim that they figured I wouldn't do anything about it. What's worse is that I didn't do anything about it; the working class of District Nine harassed me for months, years, ever since I started putting in hours to pick up the slack for my family, and I didn't defend myself.

I just sorta accepted it, you know? Like I could never believe that I was worth something. They called me ugly and stupid and a whole host of bad things, but now.. now I look in the mirror and I'm confused about what was wrong in the first place. My nose is a little big, but it's not outlandish, the Capitol fixed my crooked teeth and made them all nice and white, and my face is just normal. Yeah, okay, I'm not the brightest person that ever lived, but.. I don't know, there are worse things to be.

Like a murderer.

Lost in thought, I don't realize that the silence has stretched on for too long, but the girl speaks before I can even think up a reply. "Did you have to leave anyone behind?"

While I'm an idiot about a lot of things, even I can tell that she's asking for her own sake. I wonder: who did she leave at home when the Capitol whisked her away?

Clasping my hands against the railing, I turn my head towards her and nod. ”Yeah, I left my family back home, when I became a tribute. That was hard to do, but.. they gave me a reason to fight.”

I pause, turning my back against the city and leaning up against the railing. ”Who did they take you from?”

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

He almost looked sad when she said his name. That couldn't be right though, or at least it couldn't have been sadness. It was more... more... bitterness. She watched as the bitter memories turned in his head and waited patiently for him to speak. ”Yeah, I left my family back home, when I became a tribute. That was hard to do, but.. they gave me a reason to fight.” He was finally looking at her now, actually looking, like he had realized she was really there - or maybe that she was actually worth the consequence of talking to. She watched as he moved his long form to turn away from his present and look towards his past. The vulnerability in that motion was so huge that she felt it like a wave against her body. She watched as he took a breath and faced what used to be.

”Who did they take you from?” Where she had thought she was half expecting the question she had failed to predict its effect. Images of Reef and Ray in the Justice Building saying their final farewells to her were in her head. Their voices played over and over in her mind. Ray didn't want to admit she might never come back, and Reef couldn't ever forget it. She remembered how Reef had forgotten his note pad and remembered the tears in her own eyes as she saw the panic in his eyes.

"My parents." It was easier to think about them, to remember how little they cared about her compared to their precious family honour, but it hurt all the same. She bit her lip, trying to compose herself. "My brothers." Those two words were like an admission, they confirmed all of her fears and her doubts, all the missing and wishing and tears she had tried so desperately to keep her own little secret. It had worked thus far but she wasn't sure how much longer she could hide them. Trying to drive them away with the thought of another person's life she turned her gaze back on Colgate. This tall boy must understand how she felt, she could see that those he had left behind meant a lot to him. "Do you have brothers?"

She turned her body to face him, leaning with her hip pressed against the railing as she gazed at his face. He was a ways up there and she had to crane her neck some to get a good view of his features, but thankfully the lights coming up from the city below gave enough definition to his face that she would be able to see a change. This boy seemed as expressive as a rock though, at least in the majority of his face - his eyes were a dead give away if you knew what to look for. After living with Reef she knew what to look for.

This rock has taken more than his fair share of weathering.

OTHER
Words: 492

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you

Suddenly I decide that I don't want to stand anymore.

It's probably for the best anyways, 'cause she's craning her head to look at me and that can't be comfortable at all. Wobbling a little, I bend my knees and lean up against the wall, flopping onto the ground, staring back at the training center door.

I put my elbows on my knees and lean back. This girl probably thinks I'm a weirdo for acting so strangely, but honestly? I'm beyond caring. I reach into my pocket and pull out the bottle of bubble mix – the same one I took into the Arena with me – and start blowing bubbles into the air. They drift gently upward as the light from below reflects over the bubbles in turn, illuminating each in their own outline.

”I've got three brothers,” I say, watching the bubbles float higher and higher. ”And two sisters, and both my parents. Lotta mouths to feed.”

What can I say to a stranger? It feels too personal, talking about stuff like this to someone who I don't really know. I feel like I'm saying too much, so I try to turn the conversation around.

”What's your name? I guess I forgot to ask.”

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

She watched as he crumbled to the floor, even that movement containing a polished elegance so it really was more of him sitting down. The past was a heavy weight for him to look on, she was sure, and it must have guided him to the floor. At least this way she didn't have to crane her neck, instead looking down slightly in order to meet his gaze. Except he wasn't looking at her but the door down from the roof. His elbows were on his knees and she wondered if she might have been too eager to find someone like her. When he pulled a thing of bubble mix and began to blow bubbles she took only half a second to wonder if he was sane.

Then she realized she didn't really care.

It must have taken an incredible amount of mental strength to watch twenty-three people die, and she was sure she could end up very much like this if she managed to win. Though winning didn't feel as possible as it might have before. Gingerly she stretched out a hand to catch a bubble, but the first one she tried merely popped on her hand. ”I've got three brothers, and two sisters, and both my parents. Lotta mouths to feed.” She just nodded, reaching her hand out to try and catch a bubble. This time it settled onto her skin and stayed glimmering faintly in the city lights. It must have been hard, dealing with so many siblings and so little food, and all she could think was that they at least had enough now. Everyone knew the winner of the Hunger Games gained a nice sum of money.

”What's your name? I guess I forgot to ask.” She hadn't driven his attention away at least; he wasn't driving her away. Blinking slowly, watching as the bubble in her hand popped, she moved her eyes to Colgate's. In truth she had forgotten to say, but this felt more like he wanted to get off of the subject of family. If anything, she hadn't been searching for his secrets, she simply wanted to have some comfort about leaving a family behind. Her brothers meant so much to her, and talking to someone whose family was also hugely important might just let her do that. "Siren Baitwell." She paused a moment, looking for something else to say - just saying her name felt incomplete somehow, and she didn't know why. "From, uh, District four." Her last few words were weak, so soft that he might not even be able to hear them. Why did her name suddenly feel so insignificant?

OTHER
Words: 438

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

Every house not a home but dare do I roam
There's a light on the porch here for someone

The thing about names is that once you know what someone's called, you can't go back to thinking that they're a stranger. You can't pretend like you don't know them, because that's false – if you know a person's name, you know more about them than most people in the entire world ever will, 'cause there are a lot of people and not nearly enough of them give a shit.

Or maybe I just think names are special 'cause I've spent so much of my life avoiding mine.

”Siren Baitwell,” I repeat, testing out the words, staring straight ahead. ”I guess I should say it's nice to meet you,” I smile a little, just for a second, pausing to look at her, ”despite the circumstances.” My smile falls, because in truth it's not nice to meet her – if the world were gentler, I would never have met this girl or learned her name, 'cause she'd be back in District Four, swimming in the ocean and digging her toes into the sand, safe and sound.

I remember what the ocean looks like, from my visit to Four. I wish I could have spent more time there on my tour, but it was the winter and the water was freezing and all I could really do was stare out at the great expanse of it, looking on for ages and ages as the waves crashed against the shore.

I felt small.

As the silence stretches on again – less uncomfortable now, more like we're both contemplating everything – I find myself wondering if this girl's got a chance in hell of winning the Games. Not that I can really tell from looking at her, though – it's too dark, and appearances can be more than deceiving.

This time I turn towards her and blow bubbles around her face. ”Do you think you can win, Siren Baitwell?”

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

He still never really looked at her, just avoided her face and continued to stare out at the city. "Siren Baitwell." She watched his jaw move as he tested out her name, it was like he was rolling a piece of food around his mouth - she wondered if he liked the taste. "I guess I should say it's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances." When he turned his head towards her for that brief moment, she saw a small and quickly fading smile on his mouth. Without knowing what to say, because he didn't seem to feel it was nice to meet her, she stood silently and turned to look over the city again. Her lips were tight, the corners turned down, and she felt suddenly made of stone. There was a reluctance to look at her tall companion, a fear that she might see dislike in his face. Had she forced her presence on him too readily? Or was this just what happens after going into the arena?

Even when he spoke she didn't look at him. If he didn't want to look at her then surely it would be fine for her to not look at him. A small spark of competitive fire lit in her chest and she stolidly kept her eyes averted. "Do you think you can win, Siren Baitwell?" Part of her was even fighting the will to answer, forcing her to stay silent, but she remembered that no matter what she had asked he had answered. Plus, there was now a bubble resting on her cheek. The small, round thing of soap broke her stone shell and she turned to look back at him. She looked for his eyes, trying to catch them so he would know what she was saying was the truth - or maybe she just wanted him to see how vulnerable she really was.

"I don't know," her mouth was in a tight line, her eyes focused on his face, "I keep thinking about all the reasons I could, and all the reasons I couldn't." She didn't know how else to say it, but now that she had breached the dam of her insecurities it wouldn't stop flowing. "I just worry about my brothers so much, they always get into trouble and now I'm here and too far away to help them." Taking a huge breath she quieted, bringing herself into a more calm state. "But I think I have a chance, yes." Suddenly shy, or weary from her sudden emotional exposure, her gaze slipped down to stare at the ground between them. Slowly, like she was trying not to startle him off, she turned and sat with her back to the railing. Unintentionally, she had managed to move closer to him, but surely it was alright now - they were no longer strangers.

Still, she didn't know if she could call him a friend yet.

OTHER
Words: 485

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

I don't know what I have done
I'm turning myself to a demon

Do you think you can win?

It's the one big question for a tribute, I guess, but I always sorta knew the answer for myself. I wonder, though – what if I hadn't been confident? What if I wasn't willing to kill? The hardest thing to think about is that there are tributes out there who know from the start that they're going to die. I mean, I guess having your name called is a death sentence unless you're proven otherwise, and there's no telling what will happen until then.

For a second, I worry that I'm asking something too personal of someone I've just met. The Games have a way of doing that, I suppose – all of a sudden the tributes are plucked out of their home Districts and forcibly thrown into the toughest situation of their very short lives, so what does it matter that my questions feel too private? When all is said and done, Siren Baitwell may never remember that we even had this conversation, victor or otherwise.

"I don't know. I keep thinking about all the reasons I could, and all the reasons I couldn't. I just worry about my brothers so much, they always get into trouble and now I'm here and too far away to help them. But I think I have a chance, yes."

She turns to lean up against the railing next to me, and I decide it's getting a little weird, avoiding her gaze like I am. This is something I've gotta force myself to do, or else I'll go on without even being able to recognize her face when she's in the Games. How did I kill six people when I can't even look a girl in the eyes without feeling embarrassed? So I do – I raise my head up and smile just a little bit and turn to look at her.

”You've got your brothers,” I say, my smile widening. ”That's one big reason why you can win – if you've got them, you've got something to fight for. Don't worry about all that other stuff – just you. Just your brothers. If you do that, you'll get through it.”

There's truth behind the words, I know. When you think about the Games in black and white like that – ignoring all the consequences, all the death, focusing on the stuff you've got to live for – it's almost heroic.

[Kire]

Does, Says, Thinks

It's like the world changed as soon as she opened up, or at least Colgate seemed to change. He was looking at her, looking and smiling. His smile soothed her worries about driving him off, the shyness in it showing her that he must feel vulnerable too. Her mouth relaxed and she returned his smile, her eyes still on his face with an almost desperate intensity. She could use some hope right now. Every time she tried to raise her own spirits it simply felt false and usually only ended up with her feeling more miserable. "You've got your brothers," her smile threatened to falter at mention of her brothers, but his strengthened and aided her to stay calm. "That's one big reason why you can win – if you've got them, you've got something to fight for." She paused, letting the idea sink in. This whole time she had been thinking about her brothers as her weakness, but if she could turn them into her strength...

"Don't worry about all that other stuff – just you. Just your brothers. If you do that, you'll get through it." Her eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of a lie. She didn't see one, but there was a deep weariness to his eyes that gave her the sense that not worrying about "all that other stuff" might not be as easy as he just made it sound. "I'll try." Her words were slow and her voice soft, showing her hesitation about her ability. She had never realized what this whole thing might entail, and nothing she had ever seen had shown her a sample of this. Through her whole life her parents had treated it like a five step program. Step one; get reaped. Step two; get a good private training score. Step three; survive the bloodbath while shedding as much of your enemies' blood as possible. Step four; kill everyone else. Step five; accept the crown. Now it was really beginning to sink in that there were so many little things in between that her parents had known nothing about.

Colgate knew about it though, he had lived it and been it and now he was here. If he can do it for his family, so can I. She reached out a hand to place it on top of one of his larger ones, just letting it rest there. "Will you help me?"

Help me kill, help me win, help me get home to my brothers. In imitation of him she asked the question again, more formally.

"Will you help me, Colgate O'Leary?"

OTHER
Words: 430

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

I don't know what I have done
I'm turning myself to a demon

”I'll try,” she says hesitantly, but I'm not entirely convinced that she believes what I'm saying. Looking at her now, I don't really see why she's so unsure of herself. She looks like the Career-type – or so I assume, 'cause she comes from District Four – and she has to have some sort of training, right? She has to have some way to defend herself, some deadly instinct hidden behind those eyes. I don't look away, not anymore, and now I watch as the thought drifts across her face.

I don't want her to feel afraid. I wouldn't wish this fate upon my worst enemy, and she's gonna have to face it – a new year, a new Games, a new nightmare – while I sit back and watch the screens, praying for the safety of the tributes of my home District while.. what? Desperately trying to forget that I met another tribute and wished for her survival?

A cool breeze whispers through the night, and I realize that I've drifted back into my thoughts, staring somewhat blankly at Siren's face without really seeing her. A sudden sensation of heat runs over my hand and I look down to find that Siren has gently placed her smaller hand over mine, and this new development kinda freaks me out for a moment. As much as I try not to look surprised, I'm sure my cheeks have gone bright red.

”Will you help me?

And then she repeats it, tacking on my name to the end: ”Will you help me, Colgate O'Leary?”

She doesn't call me Soap, not like a lot of people do. That kinda makes me smile (or maybe I'm just trying to make myself look more comfortable than I am) and before I can even stop myself I twist my hand over and intertwine my fingers through hers, squeezing her hand.

”Yeah, yeah. I'll help, if I can. I don't like seeing anyone hurt.”

The lie behind that statement hits me like a brick a second after I say it. The old me would probably say something along those lines – that he doesn't like hurting people, that he wants the world to be free of pain – but who am I to say such things when I've injured so many so willingly?

"It's just.. how?” I think it over for a second, feeling like maybe I've gotten myself into a situation that I shouldn't have. ”I mean.. I have other tributes to be watching out for, I've gotta be worrying about them too, and.. “ For a second, I feel like I'm completely screwing up what I actually meant to say. ”I mean, it's my responsibility, and you're technically not, and.. “ (And what if you die and I feel like I didn't do enough?) ”But don't get me wrong. I – I want you to survive. I want you to live. You seem..”

Feeling flustered, I pause to take a breath, but it turns into another breath and then a pause, and after a few seconds it occurs to me that I don't know what I was actually going to say. "God, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot."