feeling like I'm falling behind

Mealtimes in Thirteen were never a quiet affair but he'd begun to get used to the endless noise around him as he ate. Today though, there was a different kind of disturbance begging for his attention as his fellow Victor sat just down the table from him with an unsettled toddler. Eyes were usually kept to himself, never one to pry ( so much so that his newfound role within the propo team at times left him feeling uncomfortable, his fellow victors to lay themselves bare ) but the toddler's fussing was too much for him to ignore. It wasn't that the youngster was being too loud or even remotely annoying, it was that the sound was so familiar to him. It wasn't all that long ago that it might have been Lennox refusing to settle and he was the stressed and distressed adult fighting to soothe the tantrum. It felt like it had just been last week though thankfully his nephew had grown out of it for the most part.

There was indecision within him as green eyes fought not to be drawn back to the scene, knowing that when it had been him in that position the last thing he'd wanted was an audience. So he'd kept his gaze to himself, continuing his meal and leaving Finnick to continue with his as best he could. That plan worked for a few minutes as he almost zoned out, for once choosing to allow himself to get lost in thought if it meant he wasn't tempted to stare. But the toddler seemed to have other ideas as a spoon came hurtling towards him, connecting with his arm and tugging him back into reality. Knowing all too well the horror that the other man must be feeling, Thatcher is quick to hold up his hands to reassure. "It's fine, I'm fine." The quick words felt too dismissive and so he finds himself offering a wry half smile. "Len's done worse, I promise."

Since the death of his brother he'd had almost no family left, at least none that were blood related and wanted anything to do with them. But over the years he'd managed to build himself something of a new family, cobbling together connections that filled his life and gave him the love and care he'd always been so starved of. He'd long since counted Cecelia in that number and so it hadn't taken him long to organise a time that he and Lennox would visit once she was out of the hospital wing. As they walked down the corridors he allowed himself a smile, amused by the spring in his nephew's steps as soon as he'd told him where they were going. After watching the display of energy, Thatcher made them pause at the door and gave a quick warning to calm down slightly. Lennox had nodded solemnly but he could tell by the way the boy was shifting from foot to foot that his words had likely gone in one ear and out the other. They were expected so with a rap on the door he opened it slightly, resisting the urge to hover awkwardly in the doorway out of habit when this was one of the few places he knew without any doubts he was wanted.

A few steps were taken into the Whitvale's room but Lennox had no such apprehension and was quick to hurl himself towards Cecelia, wrapping his arms around her legs with the exclamation of 'Auntie Cece.' Head shook, privately marvelling at just how quickly the boy managed to forget his lecture but he struggled to find any sort of firmness in his tone as gentle caution leaves his mouth. "Easy bud." But he'd barely breathed life into the words when his nephew suddenly decided that the brash show of affection was enough; attention then claimed by Satina who he ran to without hesitation. Any hesitation he might have felt was dissipated by Lennox's bold display and he's greeting his friend with a warm smile. "It's good to see you." A vast understatement but then he'd never been particularly adapt at finding words for his feelings or even identifying them well. All that mattered was that he'd missed her and that she was safe now.  

Friendships had once seemed to be something entirely out of his reach, no matter how much he grasped and stretched for them he had been so denied them during his childhood in Seven. A lonely existence but one that had just made him all the more grateful for the bonds that he had managed to forge throughout his years as a Victor. It helped that they had all existed in the same fire that the Capitol kept fixed on them, providing the perfect crucible for their bonds to harden and strengthen, melting down even the most stubborn of them. He would never be able to pinpoint the moment that he won Thea over, if it had even been a single moment, only that he was glad that somewhere along the way he had. She wasn't the only one that he'd anxiously awaited news from when it came to the rescue but there was no denying that he'd felt her absence keenly.

He'd waited his turn to see her, as well as waiting to have enough time that he could spend with her guilt free with all his other commitments taken care of. Throat is cleared in an attempt to dislodge the rising lump of emotion forming there. “Thea.” Her name is said quietly when the last thing he wants is to disturb her. Silence hovers in the air between them as he walked further into the room, wondering what exactly was the right thing to say at times like these. But his strength had never been in finding the perfect words to make someone feel better but rather in his steady, quiet company which he had always hoped spoke volumes. If nothing else, he hoped it made them feel less alone. “I’m glad you’re back.” Were the only words he could offer Thea, thick with emotion that would probably never be given voice, as he took a seat next to her bed and prepared to spend however long she needed in silence.

There were times that he couldn’t help but envy Lennox. He knew what it probably said about him, that he’d find something to be jealous of in the life of an orphan and yet he had never managed to stop finding small things that sparked flickers of jealousy within him. Mostly he knew that it was the childlike innocence and curiosity that caused those pricks of envy, knowing that his childhood had been so devoid of anything close to the wonder that the five year old sometimes expressed. He was glad of it, he supposed, when he’d hardly wish that fate upon anyone let only someone he loved. If he were kinder to himself he might have been able to find some comfort in it, knowing that he had been able to give Lennox the upbringing he had been denied. But that would mean breaking the habit of a lifetime and so instead he simply punished himself for the fleeting bitter thoughts that snuck in.

Among the growing list of things that seemed to be so different for Lennox was the way that he seemed to enjoy school, turning the walk from their room to class into more of a race. The boy practically marched them through the halls until the classroom came into sight and he had set off into a sprint, keen to get into the room with his new friends. His plan ( if it could be called that when Thatcher doubted that his nephew was doing anything but acting on impulse ) might have been a flawless one if the door didn’t sit on something of a junction. The five year old had almost made it when he ran smack into the legs of someone rounding the corner. Exasperated sigh left his lips, tone to match as he chastised the boy. “Come on, Len, we’ve talked about the running.” His nephew shoots him a sheepish grin before mumbling a rushed apology and continuing his course to the door ahead of him. Thatcher watched him enter before offering a more sincere apology to the owner of the legs. “Sorry.” It’s only then that he finally pays attention to the injured party, an awkwardness settling over him.

There’d been a time where he might have known what to say, or at least they’d been close enough that it maybe hadn’t mattered. But the last five years of awkwardness had left them feeling more like strangers, things strained between them aside from when they were acting as mentors and an unspoken alliance still stood between them. “Haymitch.” Was eventually the greeting he settled for, clearing his throat slightly before offering up a poor attempt at a joke. “Hope that’s not going to leave a bruise, he’s more solid than he looks.”

He wasn't sure if it had been an intentional choice by Thirteen or simple luck of the draw ( unusual for him if that were the case ) that his initial assignment had been for a room just for him and Lennox, but either way it had been a welcome discovery. The adjustment from their life split between Seven and the Capitol hadn’t quite gone smoothly but there were times he thought his nephew was taking to it with far more ease than he was. Still, he felt as though having that private space for the two of them for the first weeks had perhaps made the whole thing a little easier on them. 

It wasn’t to last though, as so few things in his life were, and not long after he heard word that the rescue mission was a success, the room reassignment came through. With Lennox at school it gave him the opportunity to find where this new room was as well as get to know their new roommate. He was busy figuring out if there was any way to move the limited furniture to make it feel more like a home when the door opened behind him. "So you're the one who drew the short straw?" Words are light, vague smile sent the way of his fellow victor, before he continues in an attempt to soothe any misgivings that the other man might have about suddenly rooming with a child. "He's a very well behaved five year old, I promise. If anything I could be the one to give you trouble."

He’d never been a man who felt much lightness, the world always weighing to heavily on his shoulders for that, but he’d always at least attempted to feign some. But now he feels almost leaden and it’s trepidation keeps him firmly rooted this time. Words had never been a thing he’d had any kind of ease with so it’s no surprise that he can’t find any good ones now ( he’d never been able to find them with Beetee and so perhaps it’s all those unsaid things that he feels pulling and pushing him downward ) despite how much he wanted to. So he settled for neutrality, motioning to the space around them. “I’ll let you take first pick, if you want. I was just trying to figure out whether it was worth moving anything around.”