Rice Bluff andante doloroso

The song

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And I won't breathe the bracing air when I'm gone
And I can't even worry 'bout my cares when I'm gone
Won't be asked to do my share when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.

The song Hunter Honey Hopper was humming to himself was none other than Phil Ochs' 'When I'm Gone,' a familiar tune that he had always been fond of. Somewhat uplifting, because it reminded Hunter to do the things he needed to do because once he passed away there wouldn't be much he could do then, Hunter liked to believe Phil Ochs was right. Humming along at the comforting tune, he noticed Hadley starting to join in and he might've cried. Instead, once the soup was poured into a reasonable container for travel, he found himself wandering back to sit and listen.

Curling up on the couch beside Hadley, Hunter rested his chin on his knees, blinking lovingly at his sibling, encouraging him to continue.

This was a special, and intimate treat between siblings.

Hunter had never been blessed with the Hopper's vocals, he could hold a note and sing backup vocals, but he didn't have the shining, bold voice that everyone else seemed to possess. Listening to his younger sibling, regardless of the scratchy vocals, was a treat that instantly beckoned him into silence. He really did think the world of his sibling, and without thinking his a guitar floated to him from the stock shelving. It was his favorite acoustic guitar, the very first item he customized. Naturally, he uncurled a bit, welcoming his instrument like an old friend, Hunter hardly needed his powers to operate the instrument, but his eyes glimmered a soft blue as it tuned up and he softly started to strum along.

Hadley couldn't remember the artist but he could hazard a guess as to the name of the song as more of the lyrics trickled into his mind the longer he tried to sing it, not realising that Hunter had long since stopped singing, listening to him struggle through. Whenever he reached an end point, where the limits of the lyrics he remembered were found, he'd start again, and more lyrics would fall into place, making the song more complete and his voice a little more confident with every full line, though it remained as though he was trying to swallow gravel while exhaling.

They barely noticed the gentle strumming of guitar strings at first, caught up in forcing themselves to remember, a talent among their many for being incredibly annoying.

At some point, however, their voice broke and they coughed, looking over to Hunter and spotting the guitar and his hands. An already ruddy face turned scarlet and the spoon they'd held over the bowl during their interlude was dunked back into the soup, stirring it to resuspend the rice.

"Knock it off, Hunter; I'm no Holly," he croaked, staring back down into the bowl.

Hunter strummed along quietly, body relaxing into the tune, watching his sibling with awe.

He really did have a natural talent for it, and he wished Hadley would sing more often, but it wasn't his place to demand musical journeys from anyone. Music was personal, and he had no right to demand anything from anyone, and so he just played quietly to assist.

After what seemed like only a few moments, Hadley was coughing again and he paused, a concerned frown creasing his forehead, trying to let Hadley settle himself before he reached over and started patting him.

He wanted Hadley to keep singing, but he really shouldn't with how red his face was turning. :(

"I love hearing you sing." He spoke softly with a smile, setting the guitar on the coffee table and curling back up, wanting his sibling to finish his soup.

slight tw: edgy medical joke, cancer

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"Yeah? You like that stage four lung cancer vibe?" he coughed, finally taking a sip of warming, healing soup. There was something extraordinarily special about homemade soup, no matter how quick and easy, whether the stock was made over hours of blood and sweat and watching pots boil or from store bought bouillon, whether the ingredients were lovingly chopped by hand or bought in a mix. If it was made at home in any capacity it just tasted better and was way more healing than anything out of a can or restaurant kitchen.

Maybe it was nostalgia speaking into his soul and soothing his sores as he sat sipping on the broth of the hearty rice and vegetable soup. Memories of weeks spent on the couch wrapped in blankets until the world was shut out, and a window opening up to deliver soup and medicine, and the comfort it brought to be so loved that someone would think to bring an ailing, snot-nosed, whimpering, sobbing, nauseated pile of sick child some soup.

They shook their head at the statement Hunter made. Hadley wasn't anything special. That was the problem really. "You should get yourself a bowl so you're not just watching me."

Hunter frowned at the cruel joke but didn't remind Hadley that cancer jokes weren't appropriate, because he knew better, and reminding him would only fuel them. So instead he sat there, watching Hadley sip at the soup cautiously, which really put Hunter's mind at ease. He was eating, so that was good, right? He didn't want to think of what 'food' Hadley had been eating previously, assuming it was something along the lines of candy, or something not-so-great.

Eating good foods would help his body heal, so him eating was a good sign.

"I-I," About to protest Hadley's request to join him in the soup-couch session, because the soup was only for him, but decided it would be better to just dutifully listen. He got up and wandered to the kitchen, grabbing himself a much smaller bowl and only filling it up halfway.

It wasn't that he didn't like his own soup, in fact, he loved it--he just wanted to make sure Hadley had as much as possible to take with him.

After grabbing a spoon, Hunter rejoined his sibling to eat some soup.

Hunter didn't want to talk, it seemed. That was fine; Hadley could survive without conversation. The soup was occupying most of their brain power, anyway, sipping on the broth, afraid to swallow the rice in case it hurt his throat, and what a silly thing to be worried about. It was rice, it was hardly fish bones and sawdust. It wasn't likely to get stuck or to rasp against his tender insides.

A lovely thought to have as he sipped away.

It seemed hours before they braved a spoonful of rice and vegetables, their bowl seemingly having run out of broth to mop up, and they chewed the first bite until it was tasteless and dry, and when they swallowed it did hurt and they grimaced, pausing as the feeling passed.

Hunter sipped at his soup, nibbling a bit, mostly trying not to stare at Hadley as he ate. The way he struggled to nourish himself really had him concerned and he set his bowl down in the coffee table by his guitar.

Grimace was concerning.

"Do-i-" struggling to formulate words as he fussed over Hadley, his hands coming to his brother’s back to encourage. "Is it your throat? I Can get you more broth if you just want to sip on that instead."

He didn’t like seeing Hadley struggling.

More fussing. They didn't want it, turning the pile of rice in their bowl over as if that would help it go down easier. As if it could get any softer than it already was.

"It's fine. Uh... would it be okay if we hit up a pharmacy or something on the way back?" There were syrups and tinctures they could take to help, right?

If the request to go to a pharmacy was a ploy to get Hunter to bring him back sooner, it worked. His eyes widened a bit, jumping immediately at the offer to be helpful.

"Yes, absolutely-" Nearly throwing himself off the couch to make sure the soup was ready to transport. Then scampering back across the apartment to the loft for a bag to put Hadley’s clothes in. Hunter was a busy bee the moment Hadley allowed him to fuss.

Hunter jumped early off the ladder’s rungs, finding that faster than climbing down the 3 extra steps, and bagged the clothing for his brother.

He noticed the one set to the side, and his eyes immediately locked on, it was the shirt he had been wanting to keep, so that one did not get placed into the bag. Quickly, Hunter zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, "I can bring more clothes over later. " He offered, because let’s be honest, Hunter would be stopping by frequently with snacks.

Which reminded him, he should pack more snacks for Hadley to take with him. Pacing again, Hunter went back to the kitchen and starting pulling stuff from his fridge.

As Hunter darted around the apartment, Hadley continued to spoon mushy rice into his mouth, chewing until there was only husk and debris left to choke down. It was good soup. They just wished they could appreciate it more, the inside of their mouth raw, their throat feeling cut to ribbons.

By the time Hunter was at the fridge for whatever reason, Hadley was done with the bowl and peeled himself up of the couch to take it to the kitchen, expression carrying a constant frown against the constant pain.

Hunter was fussy, rummaging through his food for anything soft, easy for Hadley to eat. That meant a bunch of cooked sweet potatoes, his overnight oats, veggie risotto, and his homemade fruit sorbet from the freezer. He put everything into one of his reusable grocery bags along with the soup.

Hadley was up and moving and he frowned.

"Okay-you ready?" carrying the ridiculous tote bag of food and Hadley’s clothing.

While Hunter busied himself with bags and food and whatever else he was doing, Hadley cleaned the bowl and spoon, careful not to splash his dressing (and Rocco's sweater) with dish water.

Hunter really went overboard fussing over his siblings. Way too much effort for an idiot who got himself a little crispy in the process of razing his home in flames.

Picking at the frayed sleeve of the sweater, he nodded.

"Yeah. Let's go. And .. thanks. For all this?" They gestured to the bags in small, stiff motions. "But you don't need to go to any more trouble. I'll be okay."

Hunter didn’t know why Hadley was thanking him, he knew his little sibling would do so much more for him if it were the other way around. Hunter was just happy to be helpful, so he just nodded softly in response.

Out of habit, Hunter was at Hadley’s side, ready to help him out of the apartment, carefully leading him down stairs and back into the car.

As promised, he’d take them to the pharmacy, loading them up on whatever items he needed, quickly footing the bill before Hadley could even blink.

Back at the college, Hunter would demand to go in with him, wanting to carry things, but he expected Hadley to fight him on it. To his shock, Hadley agreed and Hunter was scrambling to carry things in for his sibling, very concerned with how pliable Hadley was being.

Stopping outside the dorm door, he paused and looked at Hadley.

"You going to be okay? You’ll text me if you need anything?"

There wasn't any fight left in Hadley by the late afternoon. Completely exhausted, aching to their bones, ready to sleep their life away until this nightmare was long behind them. If only they really could just go to sleep and wake up fully healed, mentally and physically. Their cabin rebuilt, all their possessions back where they'd been left and unaffected by fire.

They didn't have that power, though. All their powers so far seemed to only be destructive and had led them here, thoroughly broken with their brother scrabbling for any chance to try to hold them together.

"Yes, Hunter; I promise I'll text you if anything falls off or whatever," he sighed, trying to take the bags off of him to take them into the dorm proper. "Be safe driving back, alright? And when you tell Holly... be delicate, okay? Don't worry her."

The drive back had worn them down enough to agree that, if Holly was here, she ought to be kept up to date. Highly unusual for the little banshee.

Bidding Hunter a million reassuring goodbyes, Hadley finally brought food and clothes and medicine into the dorm, barely getting past the door before having to stop, leaning against the wall. The pain relief had long since worn off, and though their brother had thoughtfully armed them with plenty of it, it was beginning to feel as though they were going to need a lot more than a few tablets and syrups to survive this healing process.