#lifesver

somewhere, even in the depths of his heart & soul, johnny was questioning the same thing. why ARE you bringing him here? lips that purse into a thin, hesitating to answer the question. a remington 700 that was heavy in his hands, eyes glancing upward at the sun peaking through the leaves & greenery of the woods -- using the patterns to guide their way to their prime location.

he'd say an excuse to get leland alone -- to go hunt with him, out in the woods closest to the hewitt home, catch deer to bring home to them. simple enough & seemed more than grateful for the idea.

like the sawyer family, there were secrets that weren't told. these woods were no exception, though johnny always knew exactly where to go, even when it seemed endless. johnny gives a glance to leland, giving a soft shhh to the air between them. johnny's steps grow lighter, avoiding stepping on branches or crumpled leaves that would scare away wildlife. play the part. or, maybe, it was to prolong the answer to the question posed.

it wasn't until they reached the destination that johnny turned to fully look at leland. his rifle is lowered & he gestures over to a tree, a ladder going up from it. looking up, there it was -- a treehouse that doubled as a hunting spot, wood & homely -- the perfect match to the hewitt's property & it's expanse.

johnny clicks his tongue & smiles. like an equal, rather than some predatory smile. it doesn't show teeth -- it doesn't show threat. it shows something rare for johnny to show to him -- softness. fondness. VULNERABILITY.

❛ just wanted to get ya away for a lil while, ❜ johnny answers, lacking the venom that usually comes with his tone. more friendly. more honey than whiskey. boyish, because he was once a little boy, rarely seen. johnny gives a small shrug, & he moves to the ladder, shifting his body to move the rifle to where he can climb -- steadily climbing the ladder into the treehouse. setting his hunting rifle to the side, he turns & lowers to offer a hand to welcome leland & help him up into the treehouse.

❛ almost felt like i was neglectin' ya a lil bit there, ❜ johnny teased, the lack of malice noticable. excuses. excuses. when will you be admit the truth without hesitation or fear? why use an excuse to cover up what it all meant?

❛ y'know, this used to be where tommy, my siblin's, & i all hid away to play & get away, ❜ johnny starts -- vulnerable truth that takes his tongue. johnny shifts to sit towards a windowed area of the treehouse, the obvious upgrades of what it once was. johnny peers out the hole, eyeing the woods. for deer, of course.

❛ eventually, we stopped playin' 'round here, so i made it into a box blind, ❜ johnny explains, a certain fondness that seems evident. there's a small glimmer in his eyes. if you look just right. ❛ that just means it's good for hunting. conceals you, gives you an advantage point to shoot, ❜ even conceals from your own family, if for a little while. the comfort of concealment, the comfort of eyes not being on him for a moment.

❛ wanted to show ya in case y' have to help hunt, so y' know where to go, ❜ excuse. maybe it was evident how the gun wasn't in his hand that it was an excuse for the real reason he brought leland here.

❛ just take good care if y' ever here without me, yeah? ❜ johnny knows he doesn't have to say what he actually means. he looks over at leland, the same boyish, kiddish smile that was presented still on his face. johnny bends his knees to hug into himself, comfortably, to make him smaller than he is. his eyes drift back out to the scenery, rifle tucked between the crevice of him & the structured wood wall.

he's convinced he's three seconds from throwing up when the interview finally ends and he can tear at the tie that's wrapped tight like a noose around his throat. pulling and clawing at it to unravel enough to let him breathe. the limelight makes him feel disgusting. makes him want to crawl inside of himself and tear away everything they're trying to make him be. everything they're trying to paint him as. they put him side by side with the capitol's prettiest victor and make a show and pony dance out of the both of them. leland mckinney. he remembers watching his game. he remembers how everyone in his district knew that one of the careers was going to make it, because when don't they, and he remembers watching as the boy with the doe eyes went feral before the cameras. all part and parcel with the parlor tricks of the games.

everyone is ruthless when they need to be, right?

i like him. he has kind eyes, his sister had said when she saw him on tv. he doesn't seem like the rest of all of them. he has heart. when the capitol made good on giving him a close up. when danny could pick out the other colors amongst the brown. she was right, he thinks, as he looks into those same eyes now when leland touches gently at his elbow and redirects danny's focus from how he wants to crawl out of his skin to the present. it's a jarring transition. and one that causes him to recoil instinctively, immediately pulling himself from leland's grasp and taking a step back.

"i don't need your help," he bites out, still trying to regain control of his breathing, still teetering somehow close to having a panic attack. he's saying more than he means, spitting it out with vitriol like it'll make any difference to his situation. "i don't need anyone."

his sister is dead and he can't even tell her she was right about leland's eyes. that in person, they're kind enough to make danny uncomfortable. that he feels seen and he hates it. that he wishes maybe there was hatred or judgement there, but at a quick glance, there's none to be found. he can't tell her anything, she died in his arms. she died and now he's being forced into a new arena. but first everyone has to talk about him. everyone has to talk about him and this leland of theirs. everyone has to remark on how young they are. how they're a right prince and pauper tale for the games to pluck away at.

will the poor orphan from district three be able to topple the capitol's sweetheart? didn't you see how he fought tooth and nail at the end of his game? his family must sure be proud!

if leland's wounded by what danny says, he tries not to let it show. "everyone needs someone," he says.

danny laughs, catching himself off guard.

"i don't," he sounds childish, he knows it. he knows it and he hates it. once again, he's tearing at the tie around his throat until it pulls free and then he's balling it up in his fist to throw across the room. not at leland, just away from him. the anger feels good. it feels grounding. it feels like something familiar in the clinical emptiness of this interview holding room. it's a matter of minutes before him and leland have people pushing and pulling at them, but for now it's just him and leland.

needing people means more that can be used against you. what could he know about that?

knife in hand, his grip around the handle is tight enough that it's draining the color from his knuckles. “ oh, I can make them stop now, can I? ain’t that something. ” his tone is dry, a crooked smile briefly tugging at the corners of his lips before his face falls neutral again.

he seriously doubted that he actually could get his family to stop, even if he wanted to. hell, he couldn’t even keep nubbins out of that damn graveyard. and drayton? he’d lose his shit at the mere suggestion of being the one taking orders instead of giving them (that didn’t stop johnny from barkin’ back at the old man when the mood hit, though).

It's a series of cautionary babbles, almost a question that greets Leland instead of the sound of a chainsaw as Leatherface looms over him. He's curious about him, though just what he's wondering is hard to parse through the incoherent sounds. Regardless, it wasn't as if he was truly waiting for Leland to answer him before he crouches down from his imposing height and seemingly stares at the other in the face for a minute.

Nice face. He kind of liked it. Maybe when they're finished with him he could use it.

Until then, however, Leatherface would just have to play nice. Or as nice that could be expected of him. Which really only meant he wasn't about to vivisect Leland or bash his skull in with a mallet. That did not mean he wouldn't touch him, however, given as how after his careful consideration of Leland's overall appearance the embroidery on his clothes catches his attention and he can't help but touch it with his fingertips and trace the floral pattern.

she had to save up to buy new makeup -- all of her belongings were either left in the motel room she'd been locked out of, or taken by her mother. for the while she'd been staying in the mckinney house, she'd felt horribly exposed. not that it really mattered, considering the events that led to her being there. annette's curls are piled on the top of her head in a bun, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. (leland had asked, very sheepishly, if she could show him how to conceal scars with makeup. how could she say no?) she's stood on her knees, while he sits cross-legged.

crickets sung their nightly tune in the dark, under the glow of the moon overhead in cloudless sky. air was chilled as time crawled on by, as pen scribbled carefully along paper — small green clovers decorating along the corners, with vines of leaves along their edges. she picked out the letter paper special, just for lelands' birthday, to send through the mail. she spent time with him ahead of her trip, ahead of spring break. she hadn't intended on missing the actual day, but, she'd wanted to try and hunt down someplace where marigolds were in bloom. her manager at her work, the florists, had mentioned hearing that few people had driven through a town nearby — newt — and spotted some along the sides of backroads, along property lines.

nails  dig  into  bloody  palms,  blue  eyes  watching  their  pursuer  turn  away  from  the  direction  of  their  hiding  spot.  nance  hardly  dares  to  breathe  —  she  is  familiar  enough  with  these  people  and  their  threats  by  now  to  know  that  this  has  a  certain  level  of  risk  involved  with  it.  this  isn't  going  to  go  well.  part  of  her  worries  that  it  is  going  to  be  like  all  her  other  escape  attempts  —  the  hunter  will  find  her  and  drag  her  back  down  into  the  depths  of  the  basement,  away  from  the  sun  and  into  hell's  inferno  instead.  he  always  knows  where  to  find  his  prey. 

leland's  whispered  words  snap  her  out  of  her  thoughts.  head  turns  slightly,  just  enough  so  that  she  can  see  the  boy  next  to  her.  his  body  is  tense,  looking  for  all  the  world  as  if  there  is  nothing  he  would  like  to  do  more  than  run  out  there  and  try  to  do  exactly  what  he  just  said.  she  appreciates  the  dedication,  the  steadfastness  and  courage  —  but  she  also  knows  what  would  happen  if  he  tried.

hand  moves  to  leland's  chest  ;  her  attempt  to  hold  him  back,  as  futile  as  it  is.  “  he'd  just  kill  you if you tried,  ”  she  hisses,  shaking  her  head.  “  it's  not  worth  it.  ”  nancy  knows  how  leland  feels  —  the  sight  of  their  captors  walking  around,  hunting  them  like  rabbits,  is  enough  to  drive  her  insane  too.  but,  they  have  to  be  smart  about  this  ;  the  sawyer  family  has  the  upper  hand  here.  it  doesn't  take  a  genius  to  figure  that  out.