loom dyer | 8m

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

loom dyer
district 8
fourteen

"I don't have parents," he finally tells her. It's not the truth... but it's not a lie either. You can't hardly throw a skein in a textile mill without hitting a handful of war orphans, so no one presses it on it. He's not sure why she's bothering. Willful delusion, maybe. Pretend they're not on a rusted train rattling towards their deaths. He knows people like that. Pretend the shattered factory windows are just open. Pretend the hole in the roof is a skylight. Sometimes reality is too painful, and it really is easier to pretend the world isn't ending.

Loom's too stubborn to admit it, but he's like that too. Not about his present circumstances; he's already taken note of the way Barbie Hyatt turns her head further to the left to hear his answers better, because he knows it'll give him an edge when he has to kill her tomorrow. He won't pretend he isn't going to. It's the stuff that's already happened that he's chosen to rewrite to suit him. Pretend he's a war hero. Pretend he doesn't have parents. Pretend Grandpa Tweed is dead already.

"Who do you live with, then?" If it's easier for Barbie to pretend this is the first group project in the school year, then Loom is happy to reweave his family tapestry on the fly to suit both of their fantasies.

"My grandfather." It's a lie, but it used to be the truth. Grandpa Tweed raised him, and up until the war ended it was just the two of them. His earliest memory is sitting on the old man's lap while he sewed, rocking up and down with the movement of the pedal, a little ball of yarn clenched in his chubby fingers to keep him from tugging at the fabric as it moved. Loom was the best little lap cat, apparently.

"What's he like?"

He should've known she'd keep asking. Loom kicks himself for not spinning entirely different yarn to save himself from needing to rewrite this one.

"Warm. Crafty. Trustworthy." The only adult that ever saw Loom as a person and treated him accordingly. The only member of his family that unflinchingly had his back. "Then his mind started going." And Loom went with it. He didn't mean to — he didn't want to — he just couldn't stay once his parents got back, took over. He'd been mourning in slow motion for years already. He'll never figure out how he's supposed to feel about any of it, so he pretends he didn't.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, her head returning to center as she sits back.

Loom is too.

[L△LIA]

Accepted! <3