[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/vcyTlTu.png[/img][/center][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center][hr][center][color=silver]𝕄: π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯. πŸ™πŸœ, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / β„‚π•’π•žπ•‘π•¦π•€ / / 𝟘𝟜𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr] A 4 AM memory twisted into a nightmare where snow packed around his numbed feet and settled across his shaking shoulders while he waited outside Alvin's gated, two-story house cut clean and asymmetrical with calculated precision. Alvin's voice in blurred volume through a white box beside the gate had told him to "wait there," so he obeyed, the icy weather searing into his body until he could barely feel his extremities. He couldn't remember how long he had waited there, but for that failing hope of affection he still did. If he listened and followed directions, would he earn that gentle moment where warm arms held him and a carefully manufactured voice told him everything would be all right? He would have been all right with that. For the smallest things, Christmas would forgive almost everything. He had gasped awake at 4:17 AM by the clock on his phone, when he had looked down in the nightmare and found ice encasing and spreading up his legs with a series of rapid, watery noises like a river boiling over. Sander was still asleep on the bed nearby, and Christmas let his heart calm and his breaths slow before he dared sit up despite the dull aches across his face and body. Rain and wind were hammering against the walls and windows--the source of his dream's noise and steady enough that it drowned out the sound of his fearful gasps. [color 8493ca][i]I'm scared.[/i][/color] Of things he wouldn't admit because he had been thinking too much about everything that could go wrong and jumping the gun. It didn't matter, he reminded himself carefully like a mental pinch to startle his "what if"s and "why"s. Even if Sander seemed to care about him ("important" rang in his ears again and he focused on the roaring wind and water outside), even if Sander constantly offered him that missing warmth (and he focused on the cold seeping into the room), none of it meant anything. It couldn't mean anything, because he had nothing to offer in exchange and so he could never have bartered for that kind of connection to begin with. He couldn't afford it and because his capital was so little he-- [quote][color f7976a][i]--really can't negotiate here. Just a basic rule of economics, Snowflake. You have to be worth something to demand something. As it is, you owe me a lot right now.[/i][/color][/quote] He pulled at the sheets, crumpling them towards himself so he could remember something--anything--else. A different day. A different moment. Quiet words murmured on a sofa and Alvin's fingers combing through his hair. Christmas would forgive almost everything. Bleary eyes looked to Sander's sleeping form, turned on his right and facing away, and Christmas watched the slow rise and fall of his roommate's thin shoulder, traced the tip of hair that ended at the nape of Sander's neck. His gaze snapped away. [color 8493ca][i]I'm sorry.[/i][/color] He couldn't afford it, and so--and so [i]it was okay.[/i] When the guards pounded their fists on the door, Christmas was already wide-awake in sweatpants and a T-shirt on the sofa in the living room, teeth brushed, face washed, and pain medicated because he had thought going through those motions would let him focus on something else. It didn't, not really, but he could at least spare Sander the hassle of waking up to pleading eyes and zero worth. [hr][center][color=silver]𝕄: π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯. πŸ™πŸœ, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / β„‚π•’π•žπ•‘π•¦π•€ / / πŸ˜πŸŸπŸ™πŸ˜[/color][/center][hr] How stupid of him. His problems paled so much to the terror on the screen, the stress of another fight. His mind had meticulously avoided the thoughts of another battle, thinking it would stave off the dangers of the world. The worry had lurked in the back of his thoughts with every training exercise and every strained muscle on his body, but it wasn't until the intimidating man had briefed them on the details had it become remarkably clear how tenuous their moments of peace were. The weather howled around the front steps of the dining hall and Christmas vaguely registered Sander nearby, but even that presence couldn't distract from the panic flooding his mind with every possible way this could end badly. Every possible way he could die and he knew it was dangerous to think like he was foreshadowing his own demise, but what could he possibly do? Eat. The Commander had told them to eat. Unsteady feet took him towards the glass doors of the dining hall and his trembling hands handed the ID card to be swiped. He didn't want to die. A plate nearly dropped from his hands when he first tried to grab one, and he tucked the large piece of ceramic against his chest the second time, one hand splayed beneath the dish. He didn't think it was large enough for a last meal. His hands wouldn't stop shaking and scrambled eggs kept tumbling out of the large serving spoons while toast kept dropping from the tongs as he tried to fill his plate and failed more often than not. He didn't even have an appetite. The dining hall was empty beside their group and the staff, so Christmas found a small corner of sofas and couches arranged around several coffee tables, sitting down and staring at his plate like eggs and bread would help resolve the screeching static in his mind. He thought Sander sat down somewhere near him, but he [i]couldn't afford that.[/i] He ate something. Was it the toast or the eggs and did it matter? His breaths were coming in shorter now and Christmas finally caved, stumbling to his feet and almost running to the nearby bathroom where he slammed a stall door shut behind him and flinched at the sound reverberating off the walls. Jittering fingers fumbled with the sliding bolt latch before he fell backwards into a seat on the toilet, hands gripping his knees as he watched the reflection of ceiling lights on the bathroom's tiled floors and tried his best to be [i]here[/i] between heaving gasps and the heat of tears rising.