The door to Hughie's apartment slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the empty space. He stood in the darkened entryway, keys dangling limply from his fingers, as the weight of the past 48 hours crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Robin. Dad. Gone. Just like that.
The silence of the apartment was deafening. No cheerful greeting from his father, no gentle ribbing about his messy room or his latest musical obsession. Just... nothing.
Hughie's legs gave out, and he slid down the wall, landing hard on the floor. His chest felt tight, each breath a struggle as the reality of his situation sank in. He was alone. Truly, utterly alone.
The keys slipped from his grasp, clattering on the hardwood floor. The sound triggered something in Hughie, a dam breaking inside him. A keening wail tore from his throat, raw and primal. He curled in on himself, forehead pressed to his knees, as sobs wracked his body.
Images flashed through his mind in rapid succession: Robin's smile as she teased him about his taste in music; his father's proud grin at his high school graduation; A-Train's blur of motion an instant before Robin vanished; the bloom of red on his father's shirt as the bullet struck.
Hughie's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. The pain was a welcome distraction, something tangible to focus on amidst the maelstrom of grief and rage swirling inside him.
"Why?" he screamed, the word tearing at his throat. "WHY?!?!"
But there was no answer. No cosmic justification for the cruelty of fate. Just the hollow echo of his own voice bouncing off the walls of the empty apartment.
Hughie lurched to his feet, stumbling into the living room. His eyes fell on the collection of framed photos on the mantel. Happy moments frozen in time – family vacations, birthdays, lazy Sunday afternoons. A life that now felt like it belonged to someone else.
With a strangled cry, Hughie swept his arm across the mantel, sending the frames crashing to the floor. Glass shattered, mingling with the broken pieces of his heart.
He whirled around, his gaze landing on the old guitar propped in the corner. A gift from his father on his sixteenth birthday. Hughie grabbed it by the neck, raising it high above his head. For a moment, he teetered on the brink of destruction, every muscle taut with the urge to smash the instrument to splinters.
But at the last second, something stopped him. The memory of his father's voice, gentle and encouraging: "Music's in your blood, kiddo. It'll be there for you when nothing else is."
Hughie's grip on the guitar loosened. He sank to his knees, cradling the instrument to his chest like a lifeline. His fingers found the strings, plucking out a discordant melody that matched the chaos in his soul.
As he played, memories washed over him. Robin, curled up on the couch, smiling as he serenaded her with clumsy renditions of her favorite songs. His father, whistling along off-key as Hughie practiced scales. The music store where he'd gotten his first job, surrounded by instruments and the promise of a future filled with harmony.
But that future was gone now, shattered like the photo frames on the floor. In its place was a void, a yawning chasm of uncertainty and pain.
Hughie's fingers stilled on the strings. He set the guitar aside gently, almost reverently. Then he pushed himself to his feet, moving with a strange, detached calm towards the kitchen.
The overhead light flickered to life, harsh and unforgiving. Hughie's reflection stared back at him from the window above the sink – pale, hollow-eyed, a stranger wearing his face.
His gaze fell on the dish rack, where a half-empty bottle of whiskey stood. A relic from his father's last visit, when they'd shared a drink and talked about Hughie's future. About dreams and possibilities that now felt like cruel jokes.
Hughie grabbed the bottle, unscrewing the cap with shaking hands. The first swig burned going down, making his eyes water. But the second was easier, and the third easier still.
As the alcohol dulled the sharp edges of his pain, Hughie found himself moving through the apartment like a ghost. He paused in the doorway of his bedroom, taking in the rumpled sheets and the clothes strewn about. Evidence of a life interrupted, of a young man who'd gone to work one day expecting nothing more exciting than restocking shelves and helping customers.
That Hughie was gone now, consumed by grief and rage and a pain so profound it threatened to swallow him whole.
He stumbled to his desk, collapsing into the chair. His laptop sat open, the screen dark. With clumsy fingers, Hughie woke it up. The browser was still open to a news site, the headline blaring: "HOMELANDER SAVES HUNDREDS IN DARING RESCUE."
A bitter laugh escaped Hughie's lips, morphing into a choked sob. Where were the heroes when Robin was obliterated on the street? Where were they when his father bled out on the floor of a small electronics store?
His fingers flew over the keyboard, fueled by liquid courage and a desperate need for answers. He dove into forums and conspiracy theory sites, gobbling up every scrap of information about Vought, the Seven, and the dark underbelly of the superhero world.
Hours passed in a blur. The whiskey bottle emptied. Dawn broke over the city, painting the sky in hues that seemed obscenely beautiful given the circumstances.
Hughie blinked, his eyes gritty and sore from staring at the screen. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The alcohol was wearing off, leaving him with a pounding headache and a hollowness in his chest that threatened to consume him.
But something else had taken root during his frantic research binge. A seed of an idea, dangerous and alluring. The world needed real heroes, not corporate puppets in shiny costumes. And if the likes of Homelander and A-Train wouldn't step up, then maybe...
No... maybe nothing. What could he do? Who did he think he was?
Hughie stood on shaky legs, making his way to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, then looked up at his reflection. The man staring back at him was a far cry from the carefree young man who'd kissed Robin goodbye just days ago.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, marking the start of a new day. But for Hughie, emerging from the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes and a shattered heart, it felt like the pre-dawn of something... someone new.