apricity: (n.) the warmth of the sun in the winter
the station broadcasted the weather, it'd been the first day in weeks the sun would touch hawkin's — save for any sporadic thunder storm and dust like 'snowflakes.' it's not the kind that sticks to the ground from yesterdays fall, accumulating with the season. right now steve is running the station and there's a distinct lack of static needed from fine tuning he has to do at the harrington house. he's learned it comes clearer when he has the window open in 'his room' and the antenna is set at a fourty-five degree angle. the risk is always the same, but he's too restless. nerves gnawing in habits that only made @wsqk945 anxious themselves. with pleas and batting eyelashes steve they're allowed to step outside with some chairs pulled from the break room. it's not without some worrisome adjustments, his hair pulled back in a borrowed hair tie that nancy had left laying around and an ball cap that read hawkin's swim. the color is a little faded with time, but the green is familiar, reminding him of something bittersweet. a graduation he never got and the fall of hellfire. dustin does his best to keep it alive, but it comes with bruises and swollen lips. it's just one more he adds to the lists of fucked up things since chrissy died, since he'd been blamed. it only seems to get longer with time, heavier to hold. it's why he's begun to pick the skin around his nails in a raw habit.
the sun is nice though, it sets on skin in a ways he tries to soak up. even has taken off the borrowed jacket so he could least feel the warmth through one less layer. robin is beside him, legs propped up on his thigh. he hand on her knee in something mindless. he soaks up her company when she's around, the endless chatter and humor a distraction of being a 'dead man.' “ this feels nice. ” there's a lazy pull in his timbre, just like fine tuning silver. his finger finds a fray in the denim of her jeans and pulls it like second nature. he forces himself to stop after the third time, certain to pull it loose if he kept on. he hears the hum reverberating from her throat, an agreement. the last few weeks had been so dull and dreary they were beginning to wonder if the sun would ever return.
he notices a distinct change in songs when steve's leading, a blend of genre's that he's found himself enjoying in the suffocating silence when he's alone at home. something catchy had just faded and steve's voice takes over. “ enjoyin' the sun today hawkin's? should there be no impromptu storms the sun will continue into the day and tomorrow. ” he wonders if steve would grant them this again, if the risk wasn't pushing it today. he fills in the gap with mandatory military talk, scheduling check-ups if you were within a certain radius of the last break in gate openings. “ this ones for a friend of mine who showed me the wonders of kate, grown to be a big fan of her's. we hope you're out there listenin'! ” there's a certain change of tone with his closing sentence, a wishful drag that makes his a fist clench in his lap when realization sets. he could even feel robin tense from the muscle of her leg set upon him. the familiar notes of a dust pink and purple album playing next. it doesn't sound as good as it did on his stereo on the loud speakers.
