i hate labels - hobie brown (;spiderpunk) x oc/reader

saturday may 31st 2015 - tooearlyam

sorry, i'm back. finding time to recount this stuff is getting tricky. things keep happening.

just like that we'd migrated to Gwen's room, barricaded the door, and sat surrounding the watch. Gwen and i watched as Hobie dismantled the device, a feeling of shared anxiety settling amongst the room.

"what's going on?"

it felt like the logical question to ask, though no one moved to answer it in a hurry. Gwen shot a knowing look at Hobie, and i remember wanting to do the same. he clearly knew what was going on - what wasn't he telling us? what wasn't he telling me? i'd never minded Hobie's secrecy until this moment.

after a period of exasperated silence, Gwen spoke.

"someone's after Hobie - it's hard to explain, but that tracker you enabled? allows them to see your location. Hobie disabled it originally, but..."

i was almost thankful she didn't finish her sentence, allowing herself to trail off. funnily, her 'answer' had provided more questions than answers, and my head was, understandably(!), swirling.

i'm still not sure i understand what's happening.

"why didn't you just take it out? if it's a tracker like you say, why keep it?"

Hobie sighed into the watch, looking up now. he somehow looked worse than the last time i'd seen him. the spikes atop his head were still damaged, as were the ones nailed to his vest. attached to his vest now, were newer pins. granted, Hobie had at least 2 dozen attached to begin with, but he'd accumulated at least 5 more since. one in particular caught my eye.

"he/they"

i said nothing, though i eyed it curiously for some time. i hardly noticed when Hobie spoke.

"bastard embedded the memory card inside - can't remove the tracker without losing storage and dimensional information. i thought you'd be ok."

his accent was considerably thicker when we was moody, and i struggled to both understand and comprehend his statement.

i thought you'd be ok

god, i felt stupid. i still do. he may as well have been speaking simlish, i could barely comprehend what was happening. Hobie had broken into a sweat detangling wires and unscrewing parts, and Gwen watched with intense investment. meanwhile, i couldn't help but further explore Gwen's room, allowing my eyes to wander.

amongst the posters, she'd taped a number of photos to the wall. within them, there were numerous selfies with a small, brunette boy. he looked just a tad younger than myself, with circular glasses and feathery hair. Gwen was ruffling it in the photo, and he'd consequently been painted a deep shade of red.

from what i remember, photos like this were everywhere, nestled amongst decor and furniture. there was even one by her bed. hm. aside one, i found one of Gwen and Hobie.

it was a selfie again. Gwen was squishing her face playfully, whilst Hobie was characteristically flipping the camera off, leaning on Gwen's shoulder. he was scowling, predictably, but Gwen was beaming. though there was just one, this photo sat amongst the centre of a collage, bent and warped slightly to indicate age.

Hobie's voice broke my focus, yanking me back to the present.

"it should be ok now...i've gotta go mend my suit."

he dropped the watch to the floor with a painful thunk, before standing and retreating to a further corner of the room to rifle through his bag. in this moment i knew he kept suit-mending shit on him, but i finally figured why. he's clumsy as is, no wonder his suit takes a regular beating.

i stared at the watch for a while. it was void of its regular blinking lights, its scrambled text and pulsing vibrancy. it had been reduced, once again, to a dead, clunky-looking wristwatch.

just then, Gwen scared the living fuck out of me by placing a hand on my shoulder.

"i'm sorry, he's really crabby right now."

part of me wanted to appreciate this reassurance, but another part of me felt...alien. here was Gwen, clearly one of Hobie's closest allies, explaining his behaviour to me, like i didn't already know. like i didn't already know he was crabby, like i didn't know i was in the doghouse for fiddling with his tech.

i turned my body further from hers, and she looked away guiltily. or at least, i think it was guilt? it makes sense now, knowing what i know now.

"...they're in a lot of trouble with some people. people i know. he's been trying to protect you."

there was that 'they' pronoun - i've got to ask Hobie about that! i keep forgetting.

i sat with this information for a while, wondering how best to process it. i knew this much, that he was running. but not that he'd been trying to protect me. suddenly, things made a lot more sense. even now, i'm putting dots together. the gadget...it was to hide me. from something. someone.

as much as i wanted to keep up my show of being standoffish and stoic, i folded.

i turned back to Gwen, finding her eyes and diving in far too deep.

"i just don't understand why he can't tell me? i'm so fucking lost, dude."

"i know. he'll tell you, they just need time. time they don't have..."

i watched as an anxious expression made its way across Gwen's face, a light shade of blue forming towards the ends of her hair, shadowing her face gradually. she bit at her lip, and i found her eyes on Hobie. she was worried. join the club, queen.

at this point, Hobie's stance was similar to that of a creature. he sat on his knees, hunched over his suit, gently poking and threading a needle through the thinned fabric of hit suit contemplatively. their brow remained furrowed, and his eyes were a deep dark shade, one i couldn't read.

it was then that i remembered my dimension. school. my mom. she'd be coming home soon...to an empty house and a truant child. a familiar sense of panic flooded my body as i instinctively held my wrist to my face, searching for the gadget's illuminated watch function, but found nothing but my empty wrist.

i stood to leave.

"i should probably go, my mom will be worried..."

i remember then, Gwen had grabbed at my hand. she held it gently, unsurely, tugging only slightly.

"i'm sorry, y/n, you can't."