mourning run / ky+various

Duke asked to see the body. That's all he really is now, another body in the grave. Le Roux in a ditch -- take one down, puff puff pass and they move onto the next, no funeral, no service, no whispers. They just move on and see who dies next, no matter the fact that Aurora's been hotboxing her own skull at this point and Cathy can't sleep without her fucking night light god damn it, Cathy. 

It's just more and more with his twin, every passing day it's some new shit from little old Cathy. Little favorite Cathy -- now that Emmett is dead, at least. 

Somebody's gotta pick up the mantle. 

The mantle being a cold steel dagger that somebody stole from the career academy lockers. And somebody being... you know... Tatton. Light in his hands, like most throwing knives are, and he can hide it in his suspender liner without any suspicion. Like it's meant to be there, built to be apart of Tatton. He wonders if it's how natural Emmett felt in the ditch, knife in hand and street rat across from him with a dead body in the middle. 

Between Ky and Tat, one's the prodigal son and the other is anything but. They'll figure out which is which soon enough, right? That's how this works out? Two kids go at it with knives and one walks away with it all, and then their cousin gets all the pressure that comes with the family name. Knife in hand and "did he look all, y'know, different?"

"Yeah, dumbass. He's dead." 

"No shit, I mean like, did the capitol fuck with anything??"

Tatton hadn't felt the same recently. Not well enough to put up with it any; not Duke, not his mother, not school. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and hate Lysander Mae and Kenji and Ky Earnest because it's easier than not doing anything. It's easier to blame away the grief rather than face it, "I don't fucking know, I barely remember what he looked like." Emmett's just another brother. 

That's all they are. 

Sons-- Tatton hated being called that. Brothers and sons and he wanted it to just fucking end, maybe that's why he's stabbing the shit out of Ky. Sober brain makes less mistakes, right? So this must be right. Tatton hasn't felt this sure of something and it's sobering. Duke shakes hands with the rest of the gang and Tatton heads out early. 

It ain't like Tat to leave the circle early. 

Something must be off with him, yeah? 

Between the hate and the greed and the misery that this whole glory chasing has brought, Tatton's learned a half smoked blunt isn't worth shit if you hate the company. Everybody's irritating recently, every word digging under his pores in the same way he digs his sneakers into the ground to keep an eye on Ky Earnest. Talk of the town, everybody's favorite little athlete, son of Opal Earnest the same way Emmett was Ridley's cousin. Blood is blood and everything's televised. 

A secret kiss, everybody's favorite distraction -- goddamn Ky fucking Earnest. 

Tatton clutches the dagger in his band, drawing it out as Ky continues jogging in his direction. Stomping on the ground just hard enough to echo into Tatton's increasing pulse. That thump, thump, I have to, convincing himself. The way they kick up dirt, people dig into Tatton one word at a time -- every sentence loaded with their own daggers and he can't take it anymore. This is what everybody wants, the fucking drama. Le Rouxes die on screen, cry on screen, this is what they do. 

This is what I do, what sets Tat and Cat apart. Guts.

Aim for the guts. 

Tatton lurches for Ky's stomach as he jumps from behind the bush, blood and guts and that perpetual heart beat in his throat. 

Blood stains the grey of his sweater sleeve- almost in Emmett's place. 

Is it enough, ma? Is this good enough? 

Once it's all said and done, Tatton feels the pulse move from his chest to his head. Sickening adrenaline, Ky Earnest stumbles and Tat lets go of the knife. No turning or twisting, only the one stab -- that's good, right? As Ky clutches the shoulders of Tatton's sweater, he feels stupid for just staring. This is supposed to be exciting, this is supposed to feel like- something! Fucking something god please, don't let this be the wrong thing. 

Tatton pushes it deeper before they make eye contact. 

"You know,"

"no-"

"I think we'll keep that in."

Ky says, as he kneels to the ground, hands sliding down Tatton's sleeves, "god." This isn't a fucking victor. He's just some fucking kid, another one, Opal's son and Emmett's brother or sister or whatever the fuck- why is he the only one panicking? His fingers are twitching and begging to grab the knife, to run with it and get the hell out of dodge- he wavers back and forth. 

Swaying, almost, quicker in pace than it took to ruin Ky Earnest's fucking day; good! Fuck him! Right? It's his fault, he wanted to get in the middle of all of this let him fucking bleed out for it. The cannon will fire and Tatton'll be the victor or whatever the fuck just god die and take the suffering with you. "Hey," he says, nearly calming, "you alright?"

"What?" Tatton furrows his brow, backing up and checking over his shoulder. 

There's no witness but an empty sky, and whatever is watching from up there knows Tatton's not in the wrong. Whatever is watching at this point must have given up a long time ago, too damn long ago -- "what do you mean!" A little more confused than the guy who just got stabbed, he tries not to tear up. To punch him in the face or yell or stab him again, there's too much to do and only so little Ky to blame anymore. 

It's on the ground and their hands and on Ky's face, all the bits of him that Tatton blamed and blames and will blame. Blood that killed Emmett, right? And broke everything? Ky reaches for him again and Tatton feels the surge of panic, of fear. The pain of just him touching his sweater, "it's alright."

"NO-" and Tatton pushes his hands off, trying to remind him who the victim is here. Who's prey, who's predator; there's a pack and Ky can't be apart of it, he had his fucking shot! "Why aren't you pissed- I JUST STABBED YOU!" He grabs Ky by the wrists and pushes him away, to the ground to the ditch to wherever, as long as he's below him. "You're a fucking freak, dude!" Disgusting, ugly, idiot, waste of space and bleeding and it's got to be Ky Earnest at this point. 

Otherwise, Tatton doesn't know who to hate anymore. 

This is the son of a god, right? There is no fighting back, just comfort- just kindness, and it makes him sick watching. Saying words that he's been hunting down for years and "you're supposed to hate me right now! Stab me back or- or fucking something," make it painful in a way Tatton can handle. Please, hurt me back, like family does. 

Even with a knife in a gut, Tatton's nothing but envious of Ky.