i rely on empty touch @apricottie - Tumblr Blog

sigmardor:

I don’t want to be alone anymore. It guided his hands, the way his muscles tensed under skin and fabric, straining against it like just touching couldn’t be sufficient anymore and pulling Apricot closer and into a hug just wasn’t enough. Still, changing some things, crawling out of his own skin to move towards being a better something he could not achieve being, that was out of his realm of capabilities. But he could hug Apricot. He could cradle him to his chest and breathe again without obstruction. “You’re not alone,” he whispered, lips moving against the top of the man’s head. “I’m right here, am I not?” One hand slipped into Apricot’s hair, not to tug or pull or to massage the man’s scalp like it’d become habit, but just to touch and be there.

“Yeah, bit obvious,” he faintly snorted as though it’d been a joke. A breath left Sigma and he hummed right after, the fingers of his other hand painting patterns into the man’s back. Silence lingered then, before Sigma opened his mouth. “Do you… have any tea?”

“you’re not here,” apricot protested, immediately contrasting his own actions, the way he almost reluctantly wrapped his arms around sigma then, fingers curling into the fabric of the man’s shirt, grasping tightly. “i told you to leave and you did, and now half the stuff in here is missing and you’re not here.” it was an almost typical complaint on his part if it wasn’t for the fact that it was part of something larger -- this itch in the back of his throat that he hadn’t managed to clear yet, to which his words could only be a preparation, setting up the scene. “and that’s.. that’s for the better. right ?? sig, i -- i want to fix this. but you don’t deserve to be dragged back into any of this.” at that, one of his hands let go of sigma, vaguely gestured behind the man’s back as if to show off the apartment, like being here and apricot were this odd package deal, though he doubted sigma even noticed.

“what, i’m sorry for not seeking out therapy before now. i was a bit too busy lying to you about having three siblings, it took up a lot of my time,” apricot remarked then, no necessary bite to his tone, only his characteristic indifference indicating a joke that probably wasn’t one, and probably wouldn’t be taken as one. maybe it was one way to try and keep his distance from sigma, still, as though he could truly stay away when he’d never wanted to, and he hadn’t let go of sigma yet anyway. he nodded. “yeah, got tea. you want tea ??” he muttered, though he only buried his face into sigma’s chest then, and made no actual attempt to move or get a kettle on.

#sigmardor

moxiepitlock:

“It’s already blonde, kind of defeats the purpose of the bleach don’t you think?” Moxie said, her spirits getting a little better as she spoke. She pulled her hands back from his hair and brought them to clasp almost anxiously in front of herself. “What do you think about purple? Blue maybe?” She offered, trying to give him more of the benefit of the doubt. They had always done insane things, especially as teenagers, hair could be regrown, dyed over, made normal again, they had more important things to be worried about.

“ah, i’m sure you can get it lighter still. translucent, maybe. bet you could make it a real capitol trend,” he remarked off-handedly, a nonchalance to his tone that wasn’t all that fitting to the situation, but rather showed intent. he didn’t want to linger on the bad things now, not if he could get a moment without them. he’d already spat out what he needed to say, that he’d stay, so he’d selfishly breathe for now and momentarily imagine himself with purple hair. he pulled a face. “i think blue wouldn’t be bad, but purple just can’t be my kind of colour. maybe i should just.. dye my hair back to the way it was before. maybe we’re too old for crazy colours, moxie,” apricot lamented, clearly near retirement age despite being twenty-seven.

#dug up blue haired yoongi just for this #moxiepitlock

dale-winter:

Dale stared blankly at Apricot, as if they had no relationship other than professional, as if this request was coming as a surprise, but mostly he was looking at him as if he was surprised at his tone. “I’m not one to do things just because people tell me to” he hummed back, finally, after a painful silence between them. “If she wants my money, she can ask nicely”

“i’m not just people, though, am i ??” he wasn’t sure if he could even muster up any genuine annoyance at dale disagreeing. maybe it would come later, after apricot would’ve stopped eyeing this scenario as something to be suspicious of, first of all. “honey’s not the type to ask nicely. if you can convince her to, you’d probably be the first. and you know i don’t ask for things nicely either.” there was a certain hum to his tone as he thought, overthought, found himself at a loss for words somehow, even with plenty of sentences stuck on his tongue that he couldn’t quite spit out, more offended words that didn’t suit him or the situation. “would you really let my sister die over that ??”

#dale-winter

sigmardor:

Quickly, Sigma shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if you know how to fix it or if you don’t,” he insisted, almost pulled Apricot closer in this sudden bout of eagerness. He hadn’t said no and that was almost a yes. The man just didn’t know how to do it but that didn’t really matter. “We can figure it out together. If you wanna fix it too… we can just… work on it.” His fingertips painted uncertain patterns on the man’s back now, drawing lines up and down his spine. “I really… I really don’t want to leave you alone with this now, sweetheart. Let me be there. Let me try to help.”

“Have you ever been to one?” Sigma asked with a raise of his brow. “Time,” he muttered. “Time fixes things like that, surprisingly. What’s the saying, time heals all wounds? She’d just need to work on it. And she’d need help. She’d need you, and her sister and brother. All of those people.”

he took this awkward step forward, just this shift of his weight from one foot to the other. he couldn’t have moved more than an inch, with the lack of space between them there was no room for much more, only the most awkward shuffle that was somehow the most certain-looking step he’d ever taken while reluctance lined his throat, still. he’d always done stuff like this alone, he’d never told sigma enough of anything to have any of the weight shifted from his own shoulders. he’d always been alone, the past year had been a repetition of everything he already knew, the worst kind of familiarity found in the half-empty bedroom he’d lock himself in. but here was the thing, he looked over that same heavy shoulder for just a moment, and he caught a glimpse of their stupid half-empty apartment. theirs. they’d had plenty together, hell, they had a whole on-the-rocks marriage to prove that they were capable of doing things together to a certain extent. sigma hadn’t let him down before, apricot had just let the fear of that build up an unbearable amount. “s-sig,” he muttered, didn’t know where he found the breath to speak, just that it escaped him entirely again after that. he inhaled sharply after the longest moment of silence, like he’d been testing out how long his lungs could go without air. like he needed to know, just in case he’d be caught off guard and everything would fuck itself up again. “sig, i don’t want to be alone anymore..” he managed to choke out.

“no, i thought it’d be awfully fucking clear i haven’t ever gone to see a therapist,” he remarked, a furrow to his brow that almost seemed to say that sigma had missed the punchline of whatever joke this was. he shrugged, tried to get rid of this thought that sigma could be right. maybe if only because it meant apricot had done something wrong again, that he could’ve dealt with things differently, that he could’ve been better by now, but wasn’t. “it’s.. really not that simple,” he just said, cringed.

#sigmardor

sigmardor:

He was a bit at a loss as to what was alright for him to do here. Apologizing had been a no-go, but mostly because Sigma just had a habit of apologizing when it came to Apricot lately. Fingers dug into the space between Apricot’s shoulder blades, dragged upwards in a line that was awfully reminiscent of all their other interactions, where Sigma had always, without fail, tried to be there for his husband. Even now, he kept him close. Even when those three words, vocalized instead of three taps against his chest, almost made him shirk back in confusion and shock. It was hard to deal with. “Do you want to fix it? Because we can work on that. I- I love you too. Do you want to fix it?”

“If she makes it out, she’ll have the victor money to hire the best therapist available in the Capitol. That’s worth more than being afraid of… living, after all that. There’s a way of help for everything and things could be good again.”

of course he wanted to fix it. that had never really been the issue, there was a clear answer in his mind, a determined yes, but he couldn’t push the word past his lips. not when he felt like he was walking into a trap still, even if sigma had never given him a reason to believe that. not when it felt like this was something he didn’t deserve, that could and should be taken from him at a moment’s notice. “i..” he started, tried to start, because nothing else followed that singular syllable. just a bit of a dumbfounded look and a half-open mouth that should’ve said more but hadn’t. once again, he was simply falling short, just more confirmation in his mind that this was a horrible idea. “i don’t know how to fix it,” he just repeated.

“therapists don’t do shit, sig,” he scoffed, awfully dismissive for the fact that it wasn’t like he’d ever gone to see a therapist. maybe he should’ve, way before now. maybe it was a better use of his goddamn drug money, anyway. he shook his head a little, tried to get rid of the thought. “nothing’s gonna fix something like that, like killing someone, killing people. you’re -- you’re a gamemaker, maybe you just don’t get it --”

#sigmardor

sigmardor:

It was horribly difficult not to feel disheartened at that. I don’t know, was the simplest answer. An answer that solved nothing and an answer that left him as much in the dark as he’d always been. I don’t know, just meant that Apricot had no desire to fix anything. Maybe, I don’t know, just meant that he was intruding once again, an unwanted presence in a space they’d once shared. “Right,” he cleared his throat to hide the way his voice slightly shook. “Sorry. I guess… Shouldn’t have asked. Probably.”

“She’ll have to, most likely,” Sigma gently said, tried to reason with the man in a way that wouldn’t feel like a lecture. “If she’s to get out of there, she’ll have to kill people. What… Why are you so scared of that? What it could do to her?”

“no, don’t say that -- don’t apologise, it’s not that.. it’s not --” see, even if he had any words left to explain beyond an i don’t know, it wasn’t as though those words were coming out right. he just truly didn’t know, he didn’t know why they kept ending up like this, too close together and somehow still too far apart, he didn’t know how to move on from this. he knew why it had happened, still had some guilt weighing on his throat, more words he couldn’t spit out, but that was the worst of it. there was something he could say, though, uselessly, another sentence added to a list of ones that wouldn’t solve anything. “i love you. i’m -- i’m sorry, okay ?? i don’t know.. i don’t know how to fix this.”

“it’s gonna fuck her up. she’s never going to get away from it, not really. i don’t.. i don’t want that for her, you know ??” the other alternative was still simply dying, and he simply wouldn’t consider it. so this had to be a given, something apricot couldn’t run from, even if he’d tried. honey would end up just like him. at least she wouldn’t be given the opportunity to lie about it for years to come, but that was a pretty insignificant positive, all things considered.

#sigmardor

moxiepitlock:

To say she was relieved would’ve been inaccurate, she was more than grateful he was staying. She was overwhelmed, feeling like she was running between the sisters, trying to assure them that everything was okay when in fact it was not. Moxie had been refusing to deal with her own grief regarding the situation other than drinks and a bit of weeping behind locked doors because, well, she was the person acting as eldest sibling because Apricot was absentee. “I’m not trying to,” She mumbled, attempting to talk herself down from the tizzy she had worked herself into. A small, crackle of a laugh fell from her lips and she brought her hand up to tousle with Apricot’s hair as she spoke, “Of course – why did you do this to yourself?”

“because i’m stupid and i couldn’t keep my hands from shaking, so i decided to bleach my hair instead of doing anything productive.” of course, that wasn’t the full extent of it, it couldn’t be. but this was easy enough to grumble, another complaint to voice as though this was a situation far removed from himself, a joke, a parody of his own behaviour. he’d done it at eighteen so of course he’d done it now, he was rather certain it didn’t even warrant further explanation. “so i think you’re dealing with this all considerably better than i am. given you haven’t bleached your hair half to death yet or anything.. maybe we could do matching colours next, fuck knows,” he shrugged.

#moxiepitlock

sigmardor:

A breath left him, shallow almost in its intensity. Hesitantly, not in any way how he’d ever touched Apricot before, his hands skimmed over the man’s arms, his elbows, all the way up to his shoulderblades where his hands eventually settled to keep him close. “I’m not a kid, you know?” he quietly asked, so quietly it nearly came out as a plea. “I… can decide what I want and what I deserve. Unless you’re deciding you don’t want me anymore, that you stopped loving me, I think… If we have no reason not to be together past that… why aren’t we?” He was never this bold. Apricot had told him to go and he’d gone, without protest and with more understanding than he’d thought he could have.

“Have a little faith in her, Apricot,” he said, sort of in a coo, sort of in a hum. “If you think she’s capable enough, then have a little faith.”

he would’ve shrunk away entirely if it wasn’t for sigma’s hands on hi shoulders keeping him upright, keeping him close. he couldn’t do this, not like this, not right now. everything around him existed in these precarious little structures that could come crumbling down at any moment, honey getting reaped was the latest, most striking example. he couldn’t tell sigma anything, couldn’t even answer his question, because it would just be the latest of apricot’s endeavours to come crashing down on him. he shook his head, initially simply in rejection, in this desperate, unspoken plea to not be made to answer the question. but then, maybe they’d damn well crumbled already -- sigma had moved out, it had been a year. apricot had half-empty shelves and no idea where a good amount of their shared tea collection had gone. maybe he didn’t have much left to lose here. “i don’t know,” he said then, quietly, as close to as a real answer as he’d get.

“that’s not the problem, it’s.. i believe she could do it. i believe she could kill people. that’s the problem.” murder had become this notion he was almost desensitized to these days, had to be, with the hunger games twice a year. but he felt the gravity of it now, this shiver running up his spine that he couldn’t suppress, only give into as tightening shoulders and a lack of breath. “i’m very worried she’s gonna kill someone.” maybe he had to worry about that, because the alternative, honey dying, was far too terrible to consider.

#sigmardor

sigmardor:

“Then what was the issue?” Sigma’s voice sounded small as he put volume to the question. A question he’d been plagued with for ages and had always gotten the same not-answer. This wasn’t the time for a conversation like that but perhaps there was never a good time to talk about it. Not anymore, at the very least. They should’ve talked before Sigma had packed his bags, not a year after he was already living on his own. For up to two years now, the feeling that Apricot wanted him had always been pretty much non-existent. After all, the question whether Apricot wanted Sigma to stay had been answered with a firm no.

Apricot wriggled his hands out of Sigma’s grip and he was now just left uselessly wrapping his fingers around the man’s wrist in a delicate hold. Nothing Apricot couldn’t escape from. Funnily enough, the tapping must’ve been as soothing for Apricot as it was for Sigma.

“That’s the way of the Games,” he muttered. “Do you think she… could? If she had to kill people, could she do it?”

for a good moment, he tried to put it into words, goodwill shown in a mouth already half-open, ready to throw an explanation out there that would make sense, that would make this right. no words came out, however. he swallowed them all back down, just shook his head quietly. he couldn’t explain it had all been down to himself, that felt a fucking copout. felt damn near insulting, really, that he’d dragged sigma through all of this for all these trivial things that had stacked up on his chest until he couldn’t breathe anymore. it was the triplets, it was all the things he hadn’t said, it was this underlying anxious current to his every move that evidenced his suspicion of everyone and everything, it was that he didn’t deserve anything good, certainly not sigma. “you could do better, you’ve always deserved better,” he settled on, words dragged up from a dry throat, because he had to say something.

“she could,” he said, scared himself a little with how quickly he responded, with how sure he was of his words. he inhaled this sharp breath like it had weighed on him heavily just to get that out there, that belleroses were more than capable of murder. that he believed honey to be too.

#sigmardor

moxiepitlock:

She froze, biting down hard on her lip, almost certain she was going to draw blood. A shaky breath left her lips and she did her best to listen to Apricot, fighting at the gnawing urge to yell at him, chastise him further than she already had. Her rage was palpable in the air around them. “Just because you left doesn’t mean that they don’t want you there – the other night Clementine cried about how all she wanted to do was get us all together and eat dinner like a family?” Moxie asked, staring Apricot hard in the eyes. “They need you and I need you here too,” She spoke, her voice cracking, a few tears spilling over.

Moxie flinched back a little when his voice rose, her hands coming to tangle into the sides of her dress. “Just, can you be here? Please we don’t need you to do anything other than stop fucking running away,” Moxie said, her voice coming out small and meek, needing just the affirmation that everything was okay.

“hey, just -- just don’t cry, okay ??” he couldn’t deal with that, a confirmation that cut deeper than words to see tears spilling from her eyes, this notion that brought him down to reality, even if he didn’t want to. everything was going wrong, and he wasn’t supposed to run away this time. his bag was still packed under his bed, but he wasn’t supposed to take it and go. he swallowed down whatever protests already sat half-mustered-up in his throat. any i shouldn’t be heres died on his tongue, if only momentarily. so instead, he nodded. it was half-heartedly at best, as non-committal as he could get away with, gaze shifting to his feet and his shoulders tight. he said it, though. he cleared his throat and said it. “i won’t run.” with that, though, he almost shrunk in on himself, shoulders lowering as his chin did, too. he’d said it before, it had always been a distraction. this time it wasn’t, this time it was something he’d have to stick out and live through. he’d never done this before. he shrugged, as though there was any way to be nonchalant about how he sank lower still, posture dreadful in favour of trying to disappear in on himself. he didn’t want to do this. “can you fix my hair after the games are over ??” he muttered defeatedly.

#moxiepitlock

victor-victoreen:

They frowned at Apricot’s admission, and looked down a little. “Hunter? What’s he done to hurt you? He’s been nothing but nice,” well, his version of nice, Victoreen, “to me, to be honest.” Victoreen’s shoulders soon scrunched up to their neck, wishing they had never even proposed the idea of sponsorship to Apricot in the first place.

the frown sinking into his features was a truthful one then, he couldn’t keep his face straight with indifference the longer this continued, and was now skeptically weighing his options. he could just leave, really. wasn’t running his whole thing ?? the fuck had hunter twill done to him anyway, it’s not like apricot needed to -- “yes. hunter. hunter fucking twill. he can fucking suck it. specifically him. fucking hate the guy, absolute worst fucker in the tower,” apricot said, though the brows furrowed in confusion didn’t let up, and his tone had this edge of reluctance to it, like he was trying to figure out if this was a trap or not.

#victor-victoreen

victor-victoreen:

Victoreen sighed and placed their face in their hands. “It’s no use. I haven’t had very good tributes these last few years, have I?” They looked up at Apricot through their fingers and gave a sad smile. “Who’s your money on? Mine’s on the kids from Eight; with Hunter as a mentor, they’re bound to have some silver of a chance.” They place their cup of tea- now empty, having split it over themselves- on the table in front of them, using their jacket as a means of covering the spill.

he was beginning to wonder if this was a joke he wasn’t in on, but he’d play along with anyway, however begrudgingly. at least this time he wasn’t choking on a mouthful of tea when he spoke up, just some leftover surprise to swallow down. hey, wasn’t this what he’d wanted anyway ?? to fake some ignorance ?? he closed his half-open mouth then, only to hum in feigned thought, consideration. “i don’t know, i think i rather like the capitol’s chances these games. yeah, actually, i think i’d want the capitol to win. not even because i’m from there, would you believe, i just think their tributes stand a better chance than eight and five combined. hunter twill can fucking suck it,” he muttered, only just about managed to quirk a brow in lackluster interest.

#victor-victoreen

dale-winter:

Dale looked over at Apricot. Last time they had interacted, Dale had been fucked up, and although he didn’t remember exactly what they had discussed, they had discussed too much for Dale’s liking. Apricot didn’t seem to be focused on that though, thankfully. “She doesn’t seem to think she needs my money”

he managed the faintest hum in the least convincing attempt to fake consideration of dale’s words. he would’ve had a sip of his coffee if he had half the brain to actually be casual about this. he didn’t, there was this tension to his shoulders that seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright. when he forced his chin to tilt up, look at dale properly, it was only held up by pure bluff. “right, sure. then, let’s say it’s not about her or what she thinks. it’s about me. you’re sponsoring my sister,” he said, the only way he could force the words from his mouth also the bluntest way he could’ve put this. it wouldn’t be helpful, he reckoned, reckoned he knew dale well enough to know that. maybe apricot just considered, pessimistic enough to do so, that he didn’t have all that much to lose at this point.

#dale-winter

moxiepitlock:

“No, it is fucking not,” She stated, burning white-hot anger bubbling up and over her body, frustration tears beginning to cloud her eyes. Moxie pulled back, her jaw clenched as she looked him over. A small sniffle escaped her lips and she began to connect the dots. A hushed, insistent tone was about as good as she could muster, doing her best to not dissolve into a puddle of overworked tears, “I – you’re fucking doing it, again, and they still need you.” She meant the running. The impulsively bleached hair and the near thousand-yard stare were enough for her to fixate on the fact he was trying to separate himself from his family.

“What if she doesn’t make it out?” Moxie questioned, barely giving herself time to breathe. “It’s a nice thought that she might, but then what’s Clem going to do when she doesn’t, I can’t keep fielding this alone, Cottie.” She had an intake and an exhale of a shaky breath, hand delicately dabbing at the corners of her eyes, trying to will the tears away. “Can you just, try, to think about what everyone else is feeling for a second?”

“don’t,” he responded, something between a hiss and a huff, not a proper snap, because he could never truly snap at moxie. it was a coverup, more than anything, like an attempt at interrupting her before she’d say more would somehow make it less true, that he was doing exactly what he’d always done and she had every right to be mad at him. though she didn’t seem mad, not in the way he’d grown used to from others, this scorch that made him shrink on himself and wait for the worst to pass. “they -- they don’t need me, okay ?? clem’s got you, clem’s got everyone here. hell, clem’s got a better relationship with my husband than i do. and honey --” honey couldn’t need him, because there wasn’t anything he could do for her other than shove money her way and hope for the best. he shrugged, it didn’t rid him of the tension that had crept up into his shoulders. “they don’t need me, they didn’t need me last time either --” and that had to be the truth, otherwise last time had been a mistake, too.

“moxie, i’m gonna need you to breathe and not say stuff like that, okay ?!” he managed to place a shaky hand on her shoulder then, like he needed something to hold onto, like it could serve as emphasis to his panicked sentiment, that she’d have to believe now that he couldn’t deal with this, that this couldn’t be put on him, that he couldn’t try, that he wasn’t going to. his voice had risen, ever so slightly, in tone and volume, laced with anxiety he tried to suppress in his words, yet gave away far too easily regardless. “i’m trying !! i -- i don’t know what you want me to do about it, moxie. i can’t do anything about it !! this whole thing is falling apart anyway, with or without my involvement !!”

#i know how u girls like to tussle #moxiepitlock

victor-victoreen:

Victoreen sighed. They weren’t getting any sponsors at this rate. Victoreen held their cup of tea so tight it almost spilt. “I see,” they sighed, “but my tributes are smart- great with wires and anything to do with power. Give them some wires and they can get an electric trap working in under a minute.” They looked back up at Apricot, sighing and giving up. “I guess that won’t help though, right?”

“oh yeah, that changes it.” apricot remarked, the words falling from his mouth in surprise as near-coughs after he almost choked on his scorching tea, that he’d insisted on swallowing regardless. whatever remained of his tea sloshed in the cup, courtesy of his shaky hands, his tense shoulders. “no, fuck, if they’re good with wires, i might have to reconsider this whole thing,” he said, nodded firmly, mouth awfully dry for the fact he’d almost necked back half his mug mere moments ago.

#victor-victoreen

moxiepitlock:

Moxie looked relieved upon seeing Apricot; sure the bleached hair was a conversation for another day that she was not about to let him live down, but today wasn’t about that. Her face morphed from relief to instant anger and she gave him a light punch in the arm.

“I’m so mad at you.”

She wasn’t mad, she was upset. Moxie was so damn worried about every last Bellerose that she had worked herself into a tizzy – Apricot avoiding her texts and calls wasn’t helping that either. They were supposed to be best friends, even if that meant talking about the uncomfortable stuff – as if she didn’t know that Cottie was apt to run at the first sign of danger. A single tear slipped from her face and she moved to stand and pull him into a hug.

“wha -- i didn’t even do anything this time,” he was quick to huff, a complaint more trivial and easier than any true recognition of his words or actions could be. inaction, rather. he truly hadn’t done shit, but it wasn’t like that was a good thing. he hadn’t run, though. he was almost tempted to bring it up if he wasn’t sure it would just earn him another punch. he hadn’t run, but that was mostly because he’d gotten interrupted, not because he’d wanted to stay. the way he hugged moxie back almost reflected the sentiment, he was hesitant, reluctant, hands ghosting over her back rather than truly touching, as though he was afraid to leave too permanent an impact. “c’mon, moxie --” as he pulled back and noticed the tear that had rolled down her cheek, he had to swallow down some sorrow himself. he cleared his throat, pulled away entirely then, rubbed an aimless hand over the back of his neck. “everything’s gonna be fine, yeah ??” no, it wouldn’t be. it was a nice thought, though, just for a moment.

#moxiepitlock

sigmardor:

“You can explain it to me,” Sigma said, tried to keep his voice as measured and steady as he possibly could, with Apricot falling to pieces right in front of him. “But you’re gonna need some breath for that, right? Breathe. In and out, I’ll do it with you.” He ignored whatever was around them then, because he could live with his parents for months before finding his own place and then live there for another good year and never have it feel as much of a home as this place did. Maybe it wasn’t even the apartment itself, though, with its half empty shelves and the walls lacking some pictures and the pillows on the sofa notably gone, but instead the fingers tapping unsteady patterns on his chest.

It took him far too long to notice it wasn’t just any pattern. It was three little taps. Over and over again. And for a moment, Sigma couldn’t breathe, wouldn’t dare to let his mind wander to places it wasn’t supposed to wander. Three taps; he’d done that often enough. Three taps; one for each word. I love you. His grip on Apricot’s wrists softened but didn’t let up as his hands moved upwards and delicately took a hold of the man’s shaky hands. There were things he wanted to say, things that fell short on his tongue as he uselessly opened and closed his mouth without getting a sound out.

Ironic, that Apricot somehow managed to get himself together far quicker than Sigma did, who’d been trying to calm him down in the first place. And, of course, it was to cut him deeper than a knife could.

“Not wanting me anymore wasn’t good enough for you?” Sigma forced out, feeling his own hands tremble as well now as they still held Apricot’s. “She- Honey could win, right? None of the Gamemakers would even try to kill her unless she fucked something up. She didn’t fuck anything up yet.”

he couldn’t explain it. he almost wasted his breath on a chuckle then, but it got lodged in his throat on the way up, same as the words he couldn’t muster up. he’d never been able to explain why he needed to run, just that he needed to. that everything felt wrong, like a trap, everything familiar suddenly out to get him, because someone like apricot didn’t deserve the luxury of comfort. at least he had an excuse now, a true and valid excuse. getting out of here before his sister ended up in the arena made sense in a way that running from home and all the running after that hadn’t done, the deadline wasn’t arbitrary this time. he needed to go now, before anything would go wrong, before he’d have to confront how his heart was nearly thumping out of his chest.

but sigma held his hands, still. and apricot couldn’t leave, couldn’t pull himself away from sigma, because he’d tried before, and it had never quite worked. it seemed a useless practice, and one he couldn’t follow through on anyway, with his shaky hands and shaky breaths. his body worked against him at the best of times, and this had grown to be a simple fact of who apricot was: short and skinny when he wanted to be taller and better, always shrinking in on himself further, shoulders low, hands capable of worse than he’d thought. so, instead of running, he only leaned into sigma further, an unwitting action he was only a witness to, like the tapping before. he should’ve been running. he wasn’t running.

“i’ve always wanted you, that’s never been the issue, i --” he just found himself at a loss for words again, another thing he couldn’t explain, the same thing he couldn’t explain. so he wriggled his hands out of sigma’s grasp a little, just enough to tap on his chest again. it was still three taps, not four like he’d expected, not an i need to go like he’d wanted to say. he tried again, still three rhythmic beats. maybe he just always failed at saying the right thing.

“she’d have to kill people,” he offered up as a muttered counterargument. like emerging without blood on one’s hands simply wasn’t an option given at nineteen. “if she wants to win, she’s gonna have to kill people.”

#sigmardor

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