townes zamoras. 18.

late october, 88 add.

afternoon.

Townes refreshed his browser again.

"Would you stop doing that?" Esper said. They were sitting in the library. Esper was glaring at him.

"I'm just looking."

"It hasn't changed in thirty seconds."

"It could."

"The election's not even until next week."

"But this is the last round of polling," Townes said. "It's important."

"I don't get why you're worried," Esper said, rubbing his eyes. "He's going to win. By one method or another."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means."

He did know what Esper meant. "This is still important," Townes insisted. "If the numbers aren't high enough, he'll look for scapegoats."

Esper frowned. "Scapegoats…?"

"Look it up."

"I know what the word means. I just don't get why he would be looking for scapegoats."

"Well," Townes said, "one reason his numbers might go down is, say, his son being caught fighting with the Victor on multiple occasions."

"First of all, that was your own fault, because you staged those," Esper said.

(Townes had gotten them caught together three more times that month, although Esper seemed to care less and less with each new tabloid. This was good, because it made the pictures less combative. It hadn't slowed him down, though. He'd already called Rolly earlier that day.)

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Townes said.

"You admitted to it already!"

"Fake news."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You first."

"I can't, because you've been checking the polls for the last ten minutes instead of working on our paper."

"Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder." Townes refreshed the browser again.

"Townes."

"Esper."

"Write the fucking paper already."

"Impatient today, I see."

"You're one to talk," Esper said. "Staring at the poll results all day."

"You should drink less coffee," Townes replied. "I think it's making you crabby."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"See?"

"Maybe it's not the coffee. Maybe it's you."

"So you admit you're being crabby. Also, I have no idea what that could possibly mean."

"Write the paper."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll do it all by myself and leave your name off when I turn it in."

"Then I'll write my own paper," Townes declared.

"Fine with me." Esper shrugged.

Townes narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't actually."

"You're calling my bluff?"

"Yes, I am."

"My half is already written," Esper said. "So I just need to finish it."

"I thought you said you would stop doing that."

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Didn't you?"

"Are you trying to gaslight me right now?"

Townes placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be indignant. "How dare you?!"

"Shut up."

"You just accused me!"

"Of not writing our fucking paper? Yeah, I did."

"Just- one more-" He refreshed the browser again.

"Townes!"

"It's all done now!" he insisted, peering at the results. Zamoras was ahead of Stelvio by a sizable percentage, but he was barely hitting the 60% mark. His heart sank.

"What? Is he losing?" Esper asked.

"He's winning," Townes muttered.

"You don't seem thrilled about it."

"It's not by enough. For him."

"The vote hasn't even happened yet. I'm sure he'll win and everything will go back to normal. Let's see which welfare program he cuts this time."

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You've been playing dumb all day. Drop it."

"What are you referencing?"

Esper raised an eyebrow. "Last year, he cut free school lunches? You don't remember that? Wait- no, of course you don't. It wouldn't have mattered to you."

"I… I don't."

"That one really fucked us up," Esper continued. "Worse than the food stamps thing, because at least back then, we still had the free lunches."

"I remember that one."

(If they want more food, they should take out more tesserae, his father had said. Let the Capitol bear the weight of poverty instead of Six. When Townes had pointed out the consequence of taking tesserae, he'd been quickly dismissed.

Suddenly, he wondered how much tesserae Esper had taken.)

"And then there was-"

"Could we not talk about this right now?" Townes said.

"All the ways your father has made my life more difficult?"

"I get it, okay? It's just- right now, at this point, if he's not winning… I know he has problems. I know. But if he doesn't hit a certain margin… it's going to be bad."

"Bad how?"

"...Bad."

"I see." Esper frowned.

"Yeah." Townes took a deep breath. "Anyway."

And then he started working on the paper.

the weekend.

His father had been on edge since the poll results. Townes was right- the gap between him and his opponent wasn't large enough for his liking. He made himself scarce. Or, as scarce as he could. He still had to tag along to public appearances as his father paraded his "perfect family" around Six, but as soon as they were alone, Townes took off.

He'd seen his father around election time before, and it had never been pretty, even when Townes wasn't to blame for something or other.

So Townes made himself small, and looked forward to escaping back to class.

esper myrellis-verilla. 19.

early november, 88 add.

night.

"Esper, please, help me up, please," Mavka begged, reaching up towards Esper with her free hand, the whites of her eyes glinting in the moonlight. The wind blew through her hair, sending it flying out behind her, and he could make out the veins in the hand holding on to the railing, straining against gravity.

"I-"

She reached up, up, up, her fingers wrapping around Esper's wrist, cold and too tight. He tried to free himself, but she was stronger than him, and she was smiling.

"But if you're not going to help me up," she said, "then you should at least come with me."

She yanked him forward. He stumbled with a shriek as his body hit the railing. She pulled again, tipping him over the edge.

And then she let go of the railing.

She was falling, and he was falling, and she was laughing, and he was screaming-

-and he sat up, the screech dying in his throat as he began to sob. He hugged himself, because who else would ever hold him after all he'd done- who would ever look at him and see anything but a mess of ugly scars, anything but the horrors that had warped him, anything but damage… and on nights like these, Esper couldn't help but fear they'd be right. He was nothing but broken.

So rather than hear the ghosts of last summer tell him what he already knew, he reached for his laptop, and buried himself in work once again.

(It was the first of three nights that week he didn't sleep.)

townes zamoras. 18.

early november, 88 add.

morning.

"You look awful," Townes said.

Esper glared at him. "Would you fuck off already?"

Townes smiled. "No!"

Esper sat on Townes' left. "First thing I hear every day," he muttered. "You look awful. You look terrible. You look like shit. You look horrific. Do you ever shut up?"

"Where's your coffee?"

"I drank it."

"Get another one."

"I did."

"Third time's a charm."

Esper only rolled his eyes and started pulling out his class materials. Townes watched, drumming his fingers on his desk, as he put a pencil between his teeth while he fished for his notebook. Finding it, he flipped to a blank page and set it on his desk, dropping his pencil on top while he finger-combed his hair out of his eyes.

(He couldn't help but notice the dark circles beneath them. Or how blue they were.)

Feeling his eyes on him, Esper reached for a piece of hair by his left not-ear and looked Townes in the eye.

"You're staring," Esper said.

He blinked. "No I'm not."

"I can see you." Esper glared at him. "If I have to hear one fucking ear joke today-"

"I didn't even say anything!"

"You didn't have to."

"What is wrong with you today?" Townes demanded. "There's enough going on without you throwing one of your little tantrums-"

"I'm not throwing a tantrum-"

"Then what do you call this?"

"You were being rude, and I responded!"

"When?"

"You told me I looked awful, then told me I needed to drink more coffee, and then you stared at me," Esper said. "So if you're gonna insult me and then stare at me-"

"I wasn't staring, oh my god-"

"-then I'm not going to just sit here and take it. I know my face is fucked up. You can stop reminding me. Fucking hell. I'm tired, and I don't want to listen to this bullshit."

"I didn't say anything about your face!" Townes protested.

"You have," Esper retorted. "Plenty of times."

"Okay, well, I won't. Okay?"

"Good."

Townes sighed. "Okay." He rubbed his eyes with both hands. "God, you're annoying."

"You think I'm-?"

"Esper," he interrupted, "what day is it?"

It took him a second to come up with the answer. "Tuesday."

"Which Tuesday?"

"…Ah."

"If you could not give me a hard time," Townes said, "I'll do the same."

"Fine."

"Great."

Truce settled, they lapsed into an uneasy silence.

True to their word, neither broke it all day.

night.

His father's house was full of people, and the claustrophobia was beginning to set in. Townes liked dressing up, but he found himself tugging at his collar, eager for the night to be over.

"Here's the last round of votes!" one of his father's assistants shouted. The crowd pushed

toward the television, carrying Townes with it, and he forced himself to stay calm.

(He liked people. He liked talking and drinking and celebrating.

But in his own home, drifting in a sea of strangers, Townes was lonelier than ever.)

The television in front of them flashed his father's picture across the screen, and the crowd burst into cheers. Townes smiled with relief as champagne was passed around, taking a glass and downing it before slipping away to his room, alcohol warm in his throat.

He made his way down the hall-

"Where are you going?"

He turned to see his father, dressed in his finest black suit.

"Congratulations," Townes said.

"The night's still young," his father said.

"It's a Tuesday," Townes replied. "I have class in the morning."

"You can miss one day," his father said. "Besides. You won't be able to sleep with all the noise."

"I'll manage."

"You're staying," his father said.

"Dad," Townes said, "you won. I've been doing your campaign stuff all year. I'm tired, okay?"

"You think that since the election is over, it's all done?"

"No, I didn't say that-"

"I've noticed less effort from you, just so you know," he interrupted. "And it's unacceptable."

"Less effort?"

"I told you to fix the PR crisis you made with the Victor."

"I did."

"You got a few pictures with him that only confused the perception of your relationship even more. You're not even smiling in any of them. If you'd actually fixed anything, he would be here right now."

"He wouldn't come to this even if we were friends, which we're not," Townes retorted.

"Because you didn't try enough."

"It's a weeknight, he doesn't like parties, I'm pretty sure he doesn't drink, he definitely doesn't like me, and I don't think he likes you, either," Townes said.

"He what?"

Maybe he'd had too much champagne. "He has a lot of opinions," Townes said. "I wouldn't take it personally. I don't."

"Fucking hell, Townes, have you done anything to make the Victor like us since you met him?"

"He's not particularly likable, either-"

"Not acceptable," he snapped. "Get your shit together. I don't care if the election's over. Some of that bullshit Stelvio said caused issues with our support base, and having the Victor promote me would have really fucking helped."

"Why don't you talk to him yourself?"

"I have more than enough work to do, Townes, unlike some people," he replied. "This is your one job. Fucking do it."

(Townes had seen his father's wrath before. This was not it quite yet. But he was not interested in experiencing it tonight, not after dodging it so successfully all weekend.)

"Fine!" Townes turned on his heel and walked past his father and back to the party. He snatched another glass and downing that one too, letting the music drown out his father's voice, not caring who was congratulating him or telling him to congratulate his father or whose hands were on him or whose cameras were going off in his eyes. He grabbed another glass of champagne, letting it warm him, numb him.

(He was no one, just another stranger in the crowd. He didn't have a father whose expectations he could never meet, who didn't understand him and who he was afraid to resemble. He didn't have a mother who was lost in this crowd somewhere, having not spoken to her only child in days.

He didn't have any classwork, no papers or assignments or especially any of those stupid fucking group projects with Esper… stupid Esper, who called him out and argued with him and challenged him, who had the audacity to think Townes was staring because he thought Esper was ugly? Esper thought he was so slick, always sitting on Townes' left, hiding half his face, but Townes saw right through him… fucking Esper, who had just been a boy on his television screen, committing atrocities for the world to see, in real life just as clever and twice as irritating, whose opinion his father cared more about than Townes'... his own son's… and Esper always had something to say… and… Esper…

…did not give a fuck what Townes thought about anything, including him.)

Townes finished another glass, trying to speed up the process of his mind going fuzzy. He walked toward the music and found a room full of people dancing and joined them. As soon as one showed interest, he slipped his arm around their waist and pulled them close, and Townes didn't even know who they were but soon he was kissing them, and they tasted like alcohol and Townes wanted more of that so he kissed them harder, and they kissed back, and Townes let himself pretend that was what he actually wanted.

The last thing he remembered from that night was the music roaring in his ears, so loud he couldn't hear a thing.

esper myrellis-verilla. 19.

the next morning.

For once, he beat Townes to class. He watched, fascinated, as Townes walked in, his eyes bleary and his head low, sliding into place on Esper's right.

"You," he said, a smirk stretching across his face, "look terrible."

"Shut up."

"What, did you stay up late celebrating?"

"A bit."

Esper glanced at his neck, a small mark standing out against Townes' brown skin. "Is that a hickey?"

Townes squeezed his eyes shut. "Do you have to talk so loud?"

"I'm not."

Townes groaned. "You're having too much fun with this."

"Yes," Esper smirked, "I am."