one tale ends, another begins // beck VT

"Do we have to go?"

"Yes, dear. Now hold still."

Elijah couldn't look his mother in the eyes as she adjusted his bowtie. She wore a forlorn expression that mirrored his own, a reflection of grief in blue irises. People always said Laurent had his mother's eyes, and Elijah couldn't bear to look at them. Every morning his footsteps carried him to his brother's bedroom, and every morning he felt the pit of his stomach sink further into a dreadful abyss when he remembered what happened days ago. It hadn't quite sunken in yet that Laurent was gone. The Laurent he saw on television was disconnected from reality - a bloodied puppet, completely separate from his bear-hugging, warm-hearted brother.

Today was Victory Tour day, and Laurent wasn't coming home.

Elijah didn't think it was fair that he had to go. To stand in front of his brother's animated portrait with toe-pinching shoes was a miserable affair. He avoided the haunting blue eyes of the screen behind him and tried to focus on something, anything that didn't remind him of Laurent. It was impossible. A sea of people stood before him, silently listening to Beck's empty speech. Elijah didn't know the first thing about public speaking, but everything Beck said sounded like crap. Perhaps that was his own bias - he had been the one to kill Laurent, after all. A career from Four. They aren't so special, he huffed silently. It took everything in his power to keep tears at bay.

He didn't care about anything Beck had to say. He watched the clouds in the sky and ignored the heartbeat in his ears. When it was finally over, he rushed out of his mother's gentle grasp to hustle out of the Square before anyone could approach him. It was bad enough that he missed his brother, but folks had questions about why Laurent betrayed his own district partner. Elijah didn't know what to say to them: she hit him first!

"I have to work now, Eli." His mother caught up to him, a feather's touch on his back. He offered a quiet nod. She had taken extra shifts to make-up for Laurent's loss. He didn't think it was fair, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Another day of silence. I can't take this anymore.

He opened the front door. Its loud creak resonated in his bones, forcing a wince. Everything was louder in a void of silence, and Laurent wasn't around to play his games or brighten his day with a new story. He was on his own. Nobody to talk to, nobody to watch. He could only nap on his tear-streaked pillow so many times before his body refused to fall asleep. His school teacher suggested he 'write his feelings in a journal.' Laurent would've laughed and said that was stupid, so Elijah thought it was stupid too.

After tossing aside his bowtie and god-awful new shoes, he collapsed onto the sofa. He didn't bother turning on the television because every channel was a reminder of Laurent's absence. Instead, he closed his eyes and imagined his body lying with a cloud - drifting, floating, weightless. He felt his stomach and heart flutter in response. He could write a whole story about it, but he refused to open his eyes to grab a pencil. Daydreaming was his only time-passing activity when mom wasn't home. Otherwise, his sanity was stretched like a rubberband ready to snap.

A knock on the door absorbed his fantasy. He opened his eyes in a startled twitch, surprised by the company. Another friend offering their condolences, probably.

He sighed and peeked through the peephole. The face on the other side made him question if he was still in a daydream.

No way.

Elijah opened the door and stared in stunned silence.