Butterflies

Chapter 17

Staring at a phone screen had become one of the only ways for Hughie to spend his time. He watched the interview between Homelander and Annie in his bed, the light blaring into the dark box room. When it paused he heard the faint music of the rest of the boys outside, the loud shouts unsettling him as he stared at Annie's face through the screen.

It had been several months crammed into a basement, home to all sorts of illegal business. After breaking free the boys from Vought's clutches, Hughie knew what was to happen next, however much it still ached him. They were out free, while others in their party, not so lucky. Pleading with them to go back for her was all but useless, they knew the fate Butcher and Violet met, there was no saving them. Hughie always thought of himself as an optimist, that he was part of the "good" side. The heros. But in the world he lived in, the good guys are always overshadowed by the bad.

Dragging himself out of bed with a sigh, Hughie clicked through his phone and played one of his favourite songs "Pressure" by Billy Joel. And he was standing by his mirror in an instant, brushing his teeth in his mirror covered in mold and putting on the same clothes he's been wearing for weeks. He would practice smiling in the mirror, however giving up when the lines around his eyes were no longer natural but forced to appear. Clicking off his light, he walked through the rest of Frenchie's safe house, the first one to really be safe.

He would pass men sorting cocaine intended to sell and Kimiko practicing her writing, which he smiled at and encouraged. Kimiko grinned to him when he told her it looked good, because it did, her writing becoming better every day. After saving her, Kimiko had a new found respect for Hughie. An admiration. It was becoming easier for her to be close to people again, let them inside her space. Occasionally they would even hangout, Hughie intending on showing her his music over Frenchie's that Kimiko was beginning to grow tired off. Like the rest of them.

As he passed Frenchie he was selling weapons, counting money with a cigarette in his mouth, nodding to Hughie as he passed. Hughie would grimace as he passed M.M., as he had become the resident doctor, removing bullets from people's bodies. M.M. was like a mother to all of them, the type of mother who preferred tough love over anything. It didn't stop Hughie growing closer to him or Frenchie, but the ever expanding time they were spending together was making them all become antsy. They were all waiting for something to happen, anything.

"The fuck you going?" M.M. asked Hughie.

"Uh... No, I'm just getting you your Purell," Hughie answered.

"Get the shit with aloe. And come right back," M.M. ordered after a pause.

"Yeah. Yeah, the aloe. It's really good," Hughie agreed "keeps your skin smooth. Okay."

Quickly exiting, Hughie made it up the stairs leading out of the basement, to their decoy. A comic book shop. The irony was never missed on Hughie, him silently scolding himself remembering how much of the very merch in the store he used to own. It was shameful memory, shameful in the sense he would never comprehend how he was so set on superheroes actually being like what they are in the comics.

Waiting for the security guard to let him out Hughie rocked on his feet. The man pressed the button and it buzzed free, him making his way out the door. Passing the customers buying cheaply made posters to those shopping for action figures for their children, Hughie walked out to the streets of New York, it no longer being his home. But the place he hid from. It didn't have the same beauty he would see on his walk to work. It no longer shined at night like it did when he first met Butcher and Violet. He was no longer naive to how fake the city truly was. And now like the rest of the drained individuals around making their way to work, he plastered a groan on his face and lowered his gaze.