#lethe:winter2020

“Sarah?” 

Hugh wakes up to the voice, finding himself lying on the corner booth of Evening Primrose. He remembers dropping by for the New Year’s. He must have passed out. The light is out in the diner, and all is quiet-- but the air is dark and heavy and familiar... like walking through the hospital corridor at night. “Herb?” Hugh calls out, kicking off the blanket over his legs and climbing out. The voice in his head warns him, be wary. “Not now,” he dismisses it with a shush, and ignores the migraine it gives him. He fumbles through the room to the store front. Hugh finds his father on the street, staring at a figure in front of him. He grimaces as his eyes play tricks on him, mixing up a shadow and that figure... he doesn’t recognize his own voice, uttering the word he had not in a while. “...mom?” 

Sarah Stewart, emaciated and in a hospital gown, does not appear the way Hugh remembers but as the image from her dying days. His mind doesn’t compute with his heart beating hot with fear and confusion and anger and sorrow. “Sarah.” He hears his father whispering, whimpering. “Dad, no, get back--” he sees Sarah reaching out to touch Herbert in the cheek. He sees his father collapsing to the ground. His eyes meet with his mother’s, and they nail such horror into his chest. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Her otherworldly voice echoes as she glides toward him. His legs move on their own, backing away from his mother, as the voice in his head goes, do not let it touch you. 

Felix watches skaters in the rink, slowly getting drunk. His life has not changed one bit-- he goes to work, hits whatever the bar he picks for the night, passes out drunk or high or both sometimes. Rinse and repeat. The only change is that he doesn’t spend his Saturdays visiting Clark, tinkering with whatever the homework he gets. That hit him harder than he expected. He downs his third bottle of beer, wondering if he should go find something to get high on. He grimaces as a shadow cast over his face. “...’sup, Gus,” he greets the familiar face. Gus is something of a family friend ( To this day, he is not entirely sure his mother slept with Gus, but he doesn’t want to know the answer. ), kind of like a big brother or uncle to him. “Alright, what did I do now?” he asks with a sigh of resignation.