012

— instruments of life —

Day Two, 9:33 am

HAZEL DANCED AROUND, SPINNING TO THE MUSIC PLAYING FROM THE SPEAKERS. The nightmares visited her again as she slept, haunting exaggerated scenes from her past. Most had involved her dying, nothing new.

She spun around for a while until a strange sound distracted her. Gar rolled down the hall on a skateboard and Hazel couldn't help but laugh. He wobbled slightly but caught himself on the wall and pushed off again. "Where the hell did you find a skateboard?" Hazel laughed as Gar rolled around.

"I bought it the other month," Gar explained, still trying to keep himself steady. Hazel laughed and poured the pair of cups of coffee. "Have you ever skated?"

"Yeah, not super well though," Hazel shrugged. "I kept to the big girl stuff, like quads, motorbikes and four wheeled drives." Gar scoffed at her and rolled around to the side of the counter Hazel busied herself at, stopping at her side.

"Breakfast?" Gar asked, kicking the skateboard up. "I saw this recipe for a new smoothie-"

"One of your shitty green drinks?" Hazel questioned, leaning against the counter.

"Shitty?" Gar squeaked. Hazel laughed and picked up her coffee. "You don't like my cooking?"

"Do not twist my words young man, I love your cooking," Hazel defended. "Your smoothies on the other hand... You take the things I grow and blend them into a smoothie that isn't very nice."

"You like smoothies..." Gar spoke softly, taking the other coffee.

"Berry smoothies," Hazel clarified.

"Okay, do you want a berry smoothie then?" Gar asked, taking out the food processor.

Hazel smiled and nodded quickly. "If you don't mind Tiger Boy. Your smoothies are good. I'll even handle lunch," Hazel hummed, pushing herself off the counter. "Now, gimme that skateboard."

Hazel skated around the kitchen for a while until Gar finished the smoothies, calling out to Hazel. Hazel grabbed her oddly carved guitar, sandpaper before skating quickly back to Gar. Hazel jumped off the board and Gar stopped it just a fast. "Nice," Hazel said with a smile.
Hazel pulled herself onto the counter, resting the guitar on her lap. "What's this? Number five?" Gar asked, sitting in front of her, his fingers tracing over the bumpy wood. Hazel nodded and sipped at her smoothie before starting to sand the wood down. "You only use like two of them. Why make so many?"

"Well, some have different strings," she explained. "This is going to be a Jumbo guitar. But I have the Classic, Dreadnought and Parlor." Hazel blew the wood dust off and tested the way the wood felt around her hand. "Some just have more strings than others, I have a four string, eight string and twelve string."

"How'd you have time to learn three languages, play and make guitars, go to school and still socialise?" Gar rambled.

Hazel shrugged softly, her hands still working to sand the guitar. "Dad was Spanish, and my Nana knew Spanish, so I learnt that and English pretty much at the same time," Hazel explained. "And I didn't really do a whole lot of school, if it weren't for sport, music and the garden, I probably would have absolutely fluked it."

"Isn't that what happened to Hank?"

Hazel shrugged softly, "Yeah, but that was on a football scholarship, mine was music studies and basketball."

Gar's hoodie bounced softly as he threw lazy punches at the heavy bag. Hazel leaned against the wall, watching him with a small smile. Hazel turned her phone off and tilted her head at Gar. "You know you don't have to do the same thing every day right?" Hazel asked, watching Gar's shoulders slump.

"You're not training with me, so it is different," Gar mumbled, throwing another weak punch.

Hazel kicked herself off the wall, walking to Gar and holding the punching bag still. "What's up Gar?"

Gar shrugged, his lip jutting out in a pout. Hazel tilted her head and Gar huffed. "I'm bored in here," Gar answered, punching again. "Dick might have been a hard ass, but at least he gave us something to do." Hazel nodded and let go of the bag.

"I could imitate Dick," Hazel realised. She cleared her throat, trying a few different choices before settling on one too deep, with a strange Boston accent. "No Gar, you can't do it like that. No Hazel, you can't just use your powers. Gar, do your kicks. Hazel, do your kicks." Gar laughed at her, and Hazel spun back around. "Have you practised your kicks yet?"

"You just wanna see me fall on my ass," Gar moaned, rolling his eyes.

"Mmm, just a little," Hazel teased, trying to mimic an innocent face. Gar sighed and squared his hips. Gar jumped and spun his leg out in a kick. His shoe grazed the mat and without the mat to absorb the force, Gar spun too far. Gar's foot twisted and he fell with a surprise yelp, landing face first on the mat.

Hazel burst out laughing, holding onto her stomach. "Ow," Gar complained, rolling onto his back. Gar flopped onto his side, squeaking like a small mouse. Hazel's laughs increased and she sat on the floor. Gar pushed himself onto his elbows, glaring at Hazel, "It is not that funny."

"You sounded like a church mouse," Hazel wheezed, trying to choke on the air as her ribs started to hurt. Gar let his head fall to the ground, his embarrassment moving to laughter.

Hazel took a deep breath, settling her intense laughter. Gar pushed himself to sit, crossing his legs as he stared at Hazel. Hazel groaned and kicked herself up as well and looked at Gar. "We should probably check on Conner," Hazel huffed, pushing herself to stand. "I have something we can do later." Gar nodded and grabbed her hand, letting her pull him to his feet.

"...dreary night of November, I beheld the accomplishment of my toils with an anxiety that almost mounted to agony," Gar read to Conner, pacing the bed once again. He flicked the pages, starting to mumble the words but Krypto barked, and he spoke louder again. Hazel sat on the chair, her breath coming out in soft huffs as she slept. "I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet."

Gar scratched Krypto's head as he placed the book aside, he turned to Hazel and smiled softly. Hazel had tucked his jacket tight under her chin and wrapped the rest tight around her body, her hair had fallen out of the ponytail and fell over her face. The flowers had started to grow back again, and her hair was bright with sun golden streaks.

Gar sighed. He wanted to let her sleep, he noticed the darkening bags under her eyes and considering she had been sleeping the last few days, he wondered if she had slept at all since arriving in San Francisco. He really did want to let her sleep, but he knew sleeping in the kitchen chair they dragged in would be the most uncomfortable thing to wake up on.

Gar knelt down and gently tapped Hazel's knee. "Haze... Hazel," Gar called, and Hazel groaned softly. Gar squeezed her knee and smiled. "Haze, I know you're tired, but you can't sleep in the chair," Gar chuckled softly, and Hazel pushed herself up.

"What time is it?" Hazel murmured, rubbing her eyes.

"Uh..." Gar peeked at the clock. "Nearly seven thirty."

"Seven thirty?!" Hazel shrieked, her eyes snapping open. "Shit! Come on, get up!" Hazel yelled, grabbing Gar's hand, pulling him to his feet. She kept her grip as she ran them out of the room and down the hall.

"Haze, Jesus slow down," Gar pleaded, trying to keep up with Hazel.

"You have to see this!" Hazel insisted, laughing as she threw the door to the roof open. Hazel pulled him through the door, walking Gar to the edge of the building. Hazel pulled Gar's jacket on properly and smiled at Gar, who pressed his hand to the concrete edge, looking over the enormous city.

The bright gold of the sun had started to bleed into the soft pinks and red of the sunset. The last signs of the day blue sky twisted along the edge of the pink light, the colours twisting into clouds of purple. The scene played off the glass windows of the city, shining on the tall glass skyscrapers and the rainy, puddled streets.

"Cool right?" Hazel questioned, looking back at Gar. "I've never been to a big city before, and when I saw it..." Hazel gestured vaguely in front of them, her smile growing. "I couldn't believe how fucking pretty it was."

Gar looked at Hazel, smiling. "It's pretty, really pretty," Gar mumbled.

"Wanna see something really cool?" Hazel asked.

"No, I would absolutely hate to see anything this cool," Gar teased, and Hazel smacked his side. Hazel rested one hand against the concrete wall, the other rising with a bouncing gold light. Gold and orange flecks danced around her fingers, weaving all around her hand. Hazel waited for the wind to pick up and released the gold flecks. The gold power started to glide through the air like butterflies. The sun reflected off the gold specks and when the light hit them properly, they changed colours to purple or red.

Gar turned his attention away from the lights and looked back at Hazel. The golden rays of the setting danced across her face like a glowing halo, her amber skin absorbing the warm sunset. Even with the extra gold to her skin and eyes, she seemed to glow under the bright sunlight. He properly noticed his green jacket had been properly pulled over her shoulders, and the cuffs hung over her hands. She had tried to push the sleeves up, but they refused to stay bunched up.

In that moment, time seemed to freeze as he gazed at her, entranced in the soft glow of her skin, the sun floating around her like a beautiful renaissance painting. A singular thought filled his mind, God, she's gorgeous. The weight of the realisation settled in his chest, and he wished to stay in that moment forever, savouring the feeling of being utterly and irrevocably drawn to her. Gar turned his head back to the sun, a swirling mess of butterflies filling his stomach.

"Sorry I stole your jacket," Hazel's voice cut through the silence, a sweet smile on her face and she toyed with the frays on his cuffs. Gar smiled, noticing the way his cheeks burned. "I can give it back," Hazel stammered when Gar didn't speak up.

As she started to pull the jacket off, Gar yelled, "No, no, no!" Gar coughed and laughed nervously. "No, you can keep it. It looks good on you."

Hazel smiled and pulled the jacket tighter, a teasing smile growing, "Keep as in..?"

"When you wanna give it up," Gar nodded, leaning on the concrete wall.

Once the sky darkened almost to black, and the cold air swept over the city Gar and Hazel wandered back inside. They handled dinner together, before throwing themselves into the couch. Hazel scrolled through the movies as Gar readied snacks and drinks. "Hey Gar! You like Eighties movies."

"Uhh," Gar groaned, walking into the closed living room. "I've seen a few, mostly horrors," Gar said with a shrug. "I went a few decades back normally."

"Labyrinth, it's got David Bowe," Hazel said, already pulling up the movie.

Gar froze and turned to Hazel. "David Bowe did movies?" Hazel nodded, pressing play.

Gar sat down and Hazel fell back against Gar's shoulder, his arm winding around her waist. "God you're like a heater," Hazel mumbled pulling the blankets up and snuggling further into his side. He laughed softly and pulled her in more. Krypto barked and jumped onto the couch, snuggling under Gar's other arm. Halfway through the movie, Hazel drifted to sleep and Gar pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

A blood-streaked curtain of hair obscured her mother's face, making Hazel shake with dread. The room seemed to close in as her bag slipped from her shoulder, crashing to the floor with a deafening thud. She stood still for some time, staring at the blood pooling around her mother's body. The coppery scent of blood lingered, and Hazel's hands trembled as she knelt beside her fallen mother.

"Mom..." Hazel's voice wavered, swallowed by the ominous stillness. Desperation etched lines on her face as she clutched her mother's shoulders, shaking her, even with the feeling of uselessness filling her body. "Mom, can you hear me?"

A chilling voice sliced through the silence, shattering any semblance of hope. "You're late..." The man's words slithered into Hazel's ears, a serpentine whisper that coiled around her senses. Hazel's gaze snapped towards the door frame where the ominous figure leaned, a sinister smile twisting his lips.

Tall and menacing, the man revealed a tattoo on the side of his neck, a twisting mess of lines and shapes. His ill-fitting suit added to the sinister feeling, a stark contrast to the horror unfolding as he casually spun a silencer onto the gun's barrel.

"I expected you back much sooner," The man's voice dripped with malice as he extended his arm, the gun now pointed at Hazel's forehead. His cold eyes fixated on her as he guided her with the gun, forcing her out into the hall. "Now, all this is your fault." The man fired the gun, the bullet piercing her skull and sent her crumpling to the floor.

Pain consumed Hazel in a moment, her veins consumed in searing agony. The man continued to speak but his voice muffled around her, melting into another; a taunting echo of the demon that had killed her. Trigon's voice filled her mind as she lay there. Useless, abandoned, helpless Hazel who couldn't save anyone.

"Hazel!"

Hazel awoke with a jolt, gasping for breath as the remnants of her nightmare clung to her consciousness. Hazel scurried off the couch and spun towards Gar who had been calling to her. Hazel's eyes scanned the room, trying to blink away the remnants of her dream. She shivered, feeling a cold sweat on her forehead. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed Gar holding his arm, a look of pain in his eyes.

"No, no, no..." Hazel rambled. She stepped closer to Gar and carefully took his wrist, his arm burnt, his skin red and raised. "Gar I-"

"Are you okay?" Gar asked, interrupting Hazel, his eyes frantically scanning her face. "You were sleeping then there was this light..." Hazel shook her head and grabbed Gar's wrist, healing it quickly. He waited util the skin was healed to call for her again. "Haze?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Hazel whispered, a heavy feeling of remorse settling on her chest. She turned away, unable to meet his eyes. She grabbed the blanket and raced down the hall to her room, the sound of her hurried footsteps echoing in the silence that followed. The door slammed closed behind her, the noise reverberating through the narrow hallway. As she slid down against the door, Hazel felt the sting of guilt welling up within her.

In the silence of her room, she replayed the scene in her mind. The hollow feeling of her nightmares, the panic and worst of all, the fact she hadn't been able to control herself and hurt Gar– it all played back like a haunting reel. She buried her face in her hands, grappling with the overwhelming sense of regret that now consumed her.

— pain —