everything good young people should be{Rook/Stare}

the world is too heavy, too big for my shoulders
come take the weight off me now
thousands of answers to one simple question
come take the weight off me now

I T ' S . B E E N .months since I've seen Rubik.

(He never promised to stay.) (I know. I just thought that maybe he... I miss him.)

I've asked about him, of course. I was terrified that something had happened to him when I didn't see him at the Reaping. People usually look at me in a funny way when I mention his name and say that they've seen him around. He's like a ghost, always lingering somewhere I'm not looking, and it's become unnerving though not surprising. I swore I saw Will a few times in the square even after he'd left to participate in the Games and then live in the Capitol. It's been years since he left, but I can still picture his face clearly in my mind.

He hasn't written. I thought that he might but he hasn't, and all the letters I send to him in the Capitol with my carefully thought out messages and painfully elegant handwriting are always sent back with a big red stamp on them. I spend hours writing those letters. It makes me wonder if maybe he doesn't want me anymore. He wouldn't be the first. But strangely enough, I no longer feel lonely or long for his return. He's happy there, in the place of bright buildings and lights and colors. Instead of wondering when he'll finally write I've waited for years but I'd understand if he has a good reason for forgetting for so long I find myself glancing out the window hoping I'll see Rubik making his way down the road.

I'm curled up on my couch reading by candlelight (the electricity went out ages ago and I can't find anyone willing to fix it) and drinking some cheap tea to drive away the chill the rain brings to the air when he finally comes. For the briefest of moments I wonder if maybe it's my imagination playing tricks on me, and I don't really see him climbing up my front porch in the rain. But no, the lights suddenly become brighter from where they hang suspended around me, as they always did in his presence, and I quickly close the book and make my way toward the front door. I'm about to open it wide when I hear him calling out. "It's Rubik. Can I come in?" There's something strange about his voice My hand lingers uncertainly on the knob as the sudden irrational fear that he's come to tell me he can't see me anymore takes hold of me. I don't want to stop seeing Rubik. He's my friend. After a beat of silence, though, he adds, "I'm having a bad day!"

At that I can't stop myself from swinging open the door, no matter what his true intentions are. Even just the sight of him, soaking wet and looking slightly uncertain (of himself? of me?) is enough to make me smile widely, leaping forward and throwing my arms around his neck despite the fact that doing so causes rainwater to dampen my skirt and blouse. "Rubik." His name whooshes from my lungs like a sigh of relief. "Ripred, I've been so worried about you." I draw away after a few moments, inspecting him critically. He's positively drenched and dark circles hang under his eyes, evidence of either long nights spent awake or nightmares or both. My smile is sympathetic the second time. "You're a wreck. I've got some hot tea and blankets inside." I invite him in with a wave of my hand, leading the way back into the study where the candles flicker quietly and a fire crackles in the fireplace, much like the one he lit that stormy night so long ago.

I toss one of my many blankets over the sofa for him before hurrying into the kitchen for the tea. "Hot" might have been a bit of an exaggeration - really, it's more lukewarm - so I spend a minute reheating it before returning and pressing the warm mug into his hands with a smile. The lights have been practically glued to him since he stepped inside, lingering on his shoulders and in his hair, and that makes my smile grow wide. “They've missed you.” I've missed you, I think, glancing at the rain outside. Papa used to say that dancing in the rain was more cleansing than any shower. He said it went past the skin to wash out the darkness that sometimes lingered beneath. That always made me wonder why more people didn't do it, but I never asked.

(I've been having nightmares again. I see trees and hear footsteps. I'm running, and I'm scared. Maybe the rain can make them stop. I don't like the nightmares.)

Draping a blanket over my own shoulders, I drop down next to him on the sofa and watch the flames dance in the hearth for a little while, drinking in the peace that has suddenly fallen in the house now that he's here. After waiting for so long, it feels nice to finally have had him arrive. His proximity causes me to flash back to a different moment, when snow soaked through our jackets as we spread out in the valley beneath the stars and pretended the world wasn't quite as heavy as usual. The memory makes me feel warm despite the fact that we were both half frozen by the end of the night, and I draw my legs up toward me thoughtfully before turning toward him, my own tea forgotten on the table next to my book and hands resting clasped together in my lap.

Just by looking at his face I can tell he's been thinking about Pandora. It causes my good mood to fade slightly. No matter how often I try to persuade him otherwise he still believes his brother died in those Games. It must be horrible for him to believe he's lost someone so close to him. I can't imagine how I would have reacted if Will had actually died in the Games, and he wasn't even related to me by blood. A part of me wants to hug him again, a desperate attempt to comfort him, but another part holds me back, reminding me that he hasn't come in months and maybe that means something. I don't want it to, but maybe it does. I try to dodge this thought for a moment, scrambling to think of something to say. "You're having a bad day," I repeat the words he called to me through the door. A pause, and the silence is leaden. "Do you want to maybe talk about... I mean, is there anything I can..." It's been months. I release a small sound of frustration, causing the lights to start. It's pointless to try and avoid the true problem with small talk. "I'm sorry, Rubik. It's just-"

I don't want to be alone again. You're the only one who isn't too busy for me like everyone else and I don't want you to leave. But I can't force him to stay. It would be unfair to him and perhaps to myself, too. I lower my gaze to my hands, twisting my fingers restlessly. "It's alright if you don't want to see me anymore. I won't be mad. You can leave, and I promise I'll be okay."

I'll be alone and tired and sad and confused, but I'll be okay.

lost in the playground, late night nostalgia
open the sky for me now
friends 'round the fire, outside in December
open the sky for me now