fabian fortess. d7. fin.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

He was the spitting image of his father - dark hair, lanky body, and round glasses sitting atop a wide nose. A rare brilliance sparked in those dark brown eyes, hiding an inquisitive mind much like his father's. Difference was, Fabian found himself chasing different dreams.

It is said that Fabian has his mother's lips, but he can't remember. The one photo of his mother is kept in his father's study, tucked away behind a surplus of other family photos. It was odd; his father never denied her death or refused to talk about her. He was simply content with her fate. He never cried or mourned, and Fabian never assumed it was because he didn't love her. She died at childbirth eighteen years ago. The man had clearly moved on, and Fabian was grateful. He didn't ever want to see his father suffer.

Their house always carried the faint scent of pine. His father was a man of nature and science, a studier of plants, playing his part as an ever-turning cog in district seven's industry. He often brought his work home with him, transforming his office space into a miniature forest. Fabian used to find himself perched in the corner of the room, peering through endless brush to watch his dad work. It was so fun back then, and naturally Fabian had inherited his talents in the sciences. A successful single dad and his son - it paved the way for greatness.

Fabian applied himself in school to appease him, but soon discovered he was more of a dreamer than an observer.

Science, unfortunately, was boring.

Dull, bleak, unforgiving.

The universe says humans are just organs and bones turned to dust after they die. Fabian, a bright-eyed kid, didn't want to believe such things. He was drawn to fables and ghost stories, imagination running wild. He wanted all of it to be real. Life was boring otherwise, a daunting mortality looming over him like a shadow. He asked his father what happened to people when they died, "They become a part of the Earth's resources."

A disappointing reality.

It was easier to bury his nose in fantasy books. He found himself lingering less and less in his father's study, replacing it with library trips and late-night ghost hunts at old warehouses. He wanted his stories to be real so he convinced himself that they were. It painted sunshine in a gloomy world, offering him real adventures and real hope.

He was a stubborn kid. A thrill-seeker, perhaps. Crazy was a bit of a stretch - he thought of himself as eccentric, but his head was screwed on tight. Smart kid with a drop of social awkwardness - a formula that attracted the occasional bully, but Fabian was always one to roll his eyes and walk away rather than engage. It didn't really matter people thought of him; at the end of the day, he was going to do what he loved.

"Snap out of it, kid!"

He did have the occasional daydreaming problem.

Becoming a disappointment to his father was not on his bucket list. It was difficult to explain his passions properly, so he wrote them off as hobbies and pretended that science was his world. It was inevitable anyway - following in his footsteps, finding a career, becoming a real adult after he aged out of Reaping eligibility. Science was his only path to a reasonable life. The idea didn't excite him. He still wanted to be a kid, to continue exploring the creaks and whispers of abandoned buildings with a flashlight in his hand. What a carefree world.

Keep dreaming, kid.