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“Here, put these on,” Luz says as she shoves something at Hunter’s face.
“Wha—why? What even are these?” he asks as he steps back. His brow furrows as he squints at her. It’s too bright for him to really tell what she’s holding. The sun in the human realm is just as blindingly bright. The familiarity would be comforting if it weren’t such a pain in the ass.
“They’re sunglasses! They help you see better in bright places,” she explains, still holding them out for him to take.
After a moment of staring, he concedes and grabs them from her, cautiously putting them on. The relief is instantaneous. The sun is still glaring down on them, but it’s much more manageable now. Hunter looks around, looking at the trees and the other houses down the street, before he turns his attention back to Luz.
She beams at him. “Better?”
“Better.”
“Good! Now, c’mon, let’s go!” she exclaims as she grabs onto his wrist, tugging him forward.
“Er—to where, exactly?”
“Just for a walk. You’re the only one I haven’t really shown around town yet—plus, you could use the sun. It’s good for you.”
- - -
Hunter feels like he’s going to explode.
Ms. Noceda had asked if anyone wanted to go to the store with her, and he had volunteered. She’d been making him take longer and longer breaks. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt wrong to just…sit there and do nothing for thirty minutes. Maybe it was some sort of punishment? Being here sure felt like one. But he had requested to come in order to try and get into her good graces, so probably not. He can never be sure, though.
They’ve been walking through the aisles of the store methodically. The orderliness of it would be nice if everything else wasn’t so agonizing.
It’s not even just how loud it is—people keep chattering and hollering, there’s some kind of music playing from…somewhere, the thundering of the shopping carts as they roll along—it’s everything. The lights are too bright and they keep buzzing. There’s so many people everywhere, and none of them seem to have any regard for others. When they pass through certain areas, the scents bother him—too many of them. He can’t even find the words to describe what they smell like. Everything feels sticky and people keep touching him.
Ms. Noceda doesn’t seem bothered by any of this. So neither should he.
Hunter tries to take deep breaths like Gus showed him, but it’s hard to focus on it when there’s so much stuff happening all around him. He shoves down the urge to clamp his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears. People will just stare if he does that, and they’re all already on thin ice for their ears and, in his and Amity’s cases, eyes.
When a gentle hand touches his shoulder, he flinches away harshly, whirling around. Ms. Noceda’s hand is slightly outstretched, her fingers curled halfway to her palm. She looks…concerned? Upset? He can’t tell the difference.
“Too loud?” she asks as she lets her hand drop.
“Uh—I—yes. But it’s fine.”
She purses her lips, then reaches into her purse. It takes her a moment to find what she’s looking for, but eventually she pulls out a pair of headphones. She holds them out for him to take.
Hunter stares at her warily, before he gingerly takes them from her, inspecting them. They’re plain, and look rather expensive. He looks back at her, one brow quirked up.
“They’re sound canceling,” Ms. Noceda explains, offering him a small smile. “I wear them at work sometimes. The animals can get…very noisy.”
“Oh. Thank you,” he replies after a moment. He carefully puts them on. The shouting, the music, the thundering all gets quiet. It’s still there a little, just muffled, distant. He breathes a sigh of relief. This is infinitely better. Everything doesn’t seem to smell so strangely, or be as bright, anymore.
Her smile widens as she gestures for him to follow her, and they continue through the aisles.
- - -
Flapjack is trying to make a nest out of Hunter’s hair for the millionth time as he sits on the couch. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie Luz lent him. The material inside is soft against his aching hands.
Normally, he would be wearing his gloves, but they’re being washed, along with the rest of his clothes. He would also usually be doing something. The thing is, Hunter can’t find it in himself to try doing any chores. Not without his gloves. He needs them—but they really did need to be washed. They had gotten rather gross and sweaty. So now he’s on the couch, staring off into space, trying to ignore how bare his hands feel.
“Why’re you staring at the TV? It’s off, you know,” a voice says from somewhere behind him. He startles, turning to look and see who it is.
“Sorry,” Vee says, smiling shyly. “I, uh, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” he replies, turning back around.
“Luz showed you how it works, right?”
“Yes. I just…I don’t know.”
After a couple of moments, the spot next to him sinks down. “Are you okay?”
Hunter merely shrugs, his gaze falling to a spot just below the TV stand.
Silence. Then, “You know, sometimes, I like to wear fingerless gloves.”
“Fingerless gloves? Why would you wear those?” he questions, perplexed. The point of gloves is that they cover up your whole hand. They’re protective. If they don’t cover up your fingers, then they could get damaged.
“Well, it’s easier to touch stuff like phones with them. You can’t really use the screens with normal gloves on. And they’re cool. At least, I think so. Plus, all the ones I’ve worn are soft and thick, so they still keep your hands warm. You can try some on, if you want. I know they won’t be the same, but…I don’t know. Maybe they’ll still help, at least a little.”
Hunter looks at her, the movement disturbing Flapjack, who chirps, Try.
“...Alright. Sure.”
“Cool, cool, cool! I’ll go get them!” Vee exclaims, smiling as she runs off.
Might help feel better. Soft. Soft is good. Hands still safe. Still protected.
“I guess,” he responds. Wouldn’t hurt to try—probably.
Vee comes back a couple minutes later, a pair of the fingerless gloves in hand. She sits back down then holds them out to Hunter. She grins at him.
After a moment’s hesitation, he pulls his hands out of the hoodie pocket to take them. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to see her face when she sees all the scars, the pity in her eyes.
The material is very soft, he notes as he rubs it between his fingers. They’re bright red. Flapjack twitters their approval at this, moving to perch on his shoulder. He smiles, then takes a deep breath and pulls them on. They seem to fit perfectly, the fabric soothing the ever-present aching. It’s still there, and he knows it always will be, but the gentle pressure helps.
When Hunter finally looks up at Vee, she’s just watching him curiously. “Thank you,” he says, giving her a small smile. He still doesn’t understand why they’re fingerless, aside from technology-related reasons, but he figures it doesn’t matter.
“No problem,” she replies. “You can keep them, if you want.”
“Really?”
“Sure! I have a lot of them, anyways. One less pair isn’t gonna hurt anything.”