#ft. kit

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It was easy enough for Slate to tell Kit and Micah Rowe apart. While their faces looked the same, they wore them differently. Each of them had their own brand of mischief, with Kit’s more closely resembling Slate’s. The two once carried on a prank for a good year where they convinced the mayor that he was getting letters from some community in the Wilds; he’d wasted precious Peacekeeper resources on the shit, too, looking for this place that didn’t exist. Micah had been in on it, too, sort of, but had never really gotten invested, had never taken the pen in his own hand to write the messages.

Moving to Hestia’s had been difficult because Slate had left the community he’d come to know, the community where he’d been squatting alongside a bunch of others without homes. Finding out that the Rowe twins lived near Hestia, were his age, and were more than happy to let him in on whatever shit they were up to helped him to feel like he was actually growing to be part of this new neighborhood.

Micah’s disappearance had shaken them all, though. Hestia had taken to keeping a closer eye on Slate, and Slate had joined the search parties as long as they’d lasted. He’d always gotten the sense that Micah liked him less, or like there was something strange between them -- whether it was a wall or something else, he’d never been quite sure. But now he’d never know, and it killed him as he traipsed through the woods alongside the dwindling numbers of other searchers. Eventually the searching died down, energy moving to something else, and hope snuffed out as quickly as it often was in District Twelve.

The hope that existed this far out, in the rainy, dark landscape of Slate’s home, was only a small flame in comparison to that which burned bright in the Capitol. Maybe if a sixteen year old had gone missing in the Capitol, people would care for longer. Or they’d have found him quicker. But not here. Here, people hung up their mud-encrusted boots and got on with it.

Kit was ignoring him, which made it worse. Just weeks ago he’d been one of his closest friends, a confidante, someone who liked the same things he did and who would cook up schemes alongside him. Now he didn’t talk to him at all. So Slate faded out, too, from the searches. He returned to Hestia’s, locking him in his room and playing loud music, tearing through books in the hopes of finding a reality somewhere that would be easier to swallow.

He hadn’t spoken to his friend since Micah’s disappearance, and he missed him and thought about him often, wishing things could go back to normal but lacking the skill or awareness to try to fix it (or perhaps lacking the belief that he could). Still, Kit was far from his mind as he took his spot in the line with the other eighteen year olds. Kit was only a few dozen spaces away from him, it turned out, but Slate’s mind was far away, thinking of the job he’d be doing when he got back to the Capitol, thinking of the Head Gamemaker, wondering if this was better or worse than the job he’d just quit.

Wondering, too, of course, if his own name would be called.

When Moxie called out Kit’s, the repetition of it was helpful for him, too, as he found his own vision tunneling in shock.

          eight  months  and  twenty - two  days.  it  had  been  eight  months  and  twenty - two  days  since  he  lost  his  hearing.  eight  months  and  twenty - two  days  since  his  life  turned  itself  upside  down,  kissing  his  nhl  career  goodbye,  and  eight  long  months  of  trying  to  accept  it.  in  all  honesty,  kit  is  SURPRISED  she  stuck  by  his  side  all  this  time.  he’s  found  himself  a  BURDEN  more  than  anything  ;  but  she’s  been  so  patient.  patient,  and  willing  to  learn.  every  lesson  sat  by  his  side,  a  glitter  pen  and  a  notebook  in  her  hands.  kit  didn’t  think  he  could  love  her  any  more  than  he  already  did  than  when  he  sat  down  at  his  asl  lesson,  and  she  immediately  joined  him.  five  weeks  ago,  kit  had  gotten  his  surgey.  a  small  incision  behind  his  ear,  an  implant  placed  delicately  in  his  inner  ear  ;  and  then  they  sent  him  home.  five  weeks  and  the  incision  has  healed,  and  he’s  been  requested  to  return  —  for  the  actual  FUN  to  begin.  

          the  device  is  placed  comfortably  behind  his  ear  and  switched  on,  kit’s  gaze  drifting  towards  gigi  sat  EAGERLY  beside  him.  he  doesn’t  know  what  to  expect.  kit  doesn’t  even  know  if  this  thing  will  w o r k.