A/N: This is going to be a two-parter. Gosh, I think this has been the longest time between my updates...

Viridian's POV

It's an odd occurrence when a letter comes in the mail with my name on it. I don't have anyone far away from here anymore (and besides, all letters from the Districts are probably checked very very closely nowadays, and I don't order packages or anything. If I want something, I walk to the tiny music store by my house and get it.

So when a letter comes addressed to Mr. Viridian Turner, I'm not sure what to think of it.

My Dad puts it in my hands and tells me to read it out loud. They don't like the fact that Vienna and I are sluts, so they make us read our letters. They say that Diesel and Mary Catherine are a bad influence on us. Mary Catherine told me once that their parents said the very same thing about myself and Vienna. And to think that our parents were good friends when we first met.

I open the envelope and pull out the letter, hands shaking a little (as if I can control it).

ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION

Vienna's eyes widen slightly. "What?"

I keep reading, not sure how many, if any, of the words I'm saying out loud.

You are hereby ordered for induction into the Capitol Armed Forces…

"No!" Vienna shouts. My parents exchange glances.

"Fuck," I breathe.

"D-Don't swear." My Mom is stunned.

"Well, good luck there, son. Come back or don't. It'd be a hell of a lot less annoying without you." He gets up and leaves with a deciding nod. I sit down, shaking only a little, because most of my mind hasn't yet computed the news. My eyes skim over the time and date I'm going to have to report and realize it's only five days away.

"This can't be happening," Vienna says, sitting beside me.

"You are…" I look at her and put a finger to my lips, ready to take a guess, "Scared?"

"Yes I'm scared! You're going to the army!" Her eyes pool up with tears. "Just like Diesel!" a sob escapes her lips. "And you saw well what happened to him!"

My heart skips a beat. I hadn't thought of that.

"Time for bed now," Mom says, like this news is nothing. Maybe they were expecting it.

I get up slowly, Vienna staring at me with wide magenta eyes. I walk to my room without another word on the subject, considering it hasn't sunk in very much. I close the door and she goes into her room.

I put the letter on my desk. I'll mark it down on my calendar later. Then I grab the crumpled, folded up piece of paper from my dresser. The letter Diesel had written for me, just days before he was shot.

I sit on the edge of my bed, the letter in my lap. It's been weeks since it happened.

They're over it. I'm not.

Maybe because Diesel.

Probably because Diesel.

I don't like to read the note.

I read the note.

Lately I've been out of control. Of my thoughts, my actions, my words. But today's the worst.

Dad kicked me out of the piano room. Cadenza is asleep. I can't push my troubles onto Vienna, I've done that for far too long now. She has life to live. Life that is bigger than I'll ever be. That is more fulfilling than I've ever been to her. That is worth more than the world. How can I impose on that? On a young woman with so much potential I've never had?

The time passes, though at a steady 60 beats per minute, seeming to lag and slow down, and all I can do is sit and listening to the ticking of the clock on my wall and wait for something to happen.

The note lies on my dresser when I put it down. I can't believe it's come to this.

It was pointless. It's always been pointless.

How am I to control myself now?

Just like everything else, I don't know. I'm dumb, and not able to function. Not able to get thoughts across, sometimes. I'm retarded, and that's what I have to live with. And a lot of the time, especially with the constant grief weighing me down, it becomes too much. Overwhelms me.

Do I know what I'm doing? A lot of the time, I don't.

I sit by myself.

The letter has stopped giving me comfort and instead has started instilling into me an acute sense of horror and of doom. Why is Diesel so lucky as to escape?

It wouldn't be too hard for me to do the same.

I get up and go to the bathroom, following wherever my feet decide to take me. I grab a couple different canisters. I don't have time to research what will definitely be lethal, so I'll have to make a dumb guess. Surely taking a million different pills will succeed somehow.

I don't know why or how I take the medicine back to my room. I don't know how long it takes to unload them into piles. I don't remember putting my hands into the piles to collect the ones that looked pretty when you put them side by side. I don't remember searching for water either.

But I do remember Vienna barging into my room. And when I look down I notice I have a handful of assorted meds and a glass of water in my shaking hands, which means I must not have been so quiet about it.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Like she doesn't know.

What is one do when they've been caught in the middle of a suicide attempt? Give up? Do it in the spur of the moment? She takes the glass out of my hands before I can react to anything.

"Why!?" She looks like she might… Hm. I don't know what she's doing yet. She sits down on the bed beside me, her eyes filling up with tears. "Why?"

"What's the point anymore?" I drop the pills into their piles again and throw my hands up. "What's the point?"

"You have too much to live for!" she says. Yes, she is going to cry. Or at least I think she is going to cry.

Which would mean that…"You are… sad?"

"Yes I'm sad!" she raises her voice and crosses her arms, the tears threatening to pour out of her eyes.

"Wait… But you are… Angry?"

"I'm both!" she shouts. "What would make you think this was the best option, Viridian!?"

I pause. I still don't know.

"I'm sorry sad Vienna."

"Well sometimes sorry isn't good enough!"

"Then what is?"

"Nothing! Nothing is good enough! Thank God you didn't take anything or else it never would've been okay!" The tears don't stop.

"It's pointless."

"Don't say that."

"It's pointless."

"You have so much! Think about it!"

"What do I have to live for?"

"Love, Viridian!"

I look at her silently. "Love."

"Yes!"

"What is love? What is love but rejection?"

"Viridian-"

"What is love-" my voice raises and I only pause a second before restarting the thought. "What is love but waiting endlessly for something that will never happen!?"

"Viridian-"

My voice lowers to a low growl. "Love is nothing. Love is nothing but not being good enough."

She whimpers, not responding.

"Love is me waiting for Mary Catherine to look at me in a way she never will. Love is knowing that I will never have your eyes, your smile, your talents, your charm, and everything else about you that drives her crazy with affection! Love is knowing I will never find a single fucking soul devoted enough to stay with me even when I can't get emotions right!"

"Viridian..." She whispers, but I don't wait for her to finish the thought.

"Love is not being good enough for the people that deserve the world. Not funny enough, not attractive enough, not happy enough, not useful enough, not kind enough, and certainly not smart enough!" A bitter laugh bursts from my throat.

"Viridian, stop it! You're scaring me!" Vienna dries her eyes whimpering.

"Love is nothing but heartbreak!"

"That's not true!"

"Oh really?!" laughter tears out of me like it never has before. Laughter filled with hate, and spite, and hurt, and all the bad emotions ever known. I grab Diesel's letter and shove it into her hands. "Read it. I fucking dare you. Read it!"

Her eyes skim the paper. I've lost control but this time, I like it! I like the laughter that bubbles out of me, I like the triumphant anger that pulses through my body, and I like the violent pounding of my heart. Tears drip out of Vienna's eyes and I take the note back.

"Some twist of fate, eh?" I ask bitterly. "It was pointless. All of it was pointless!"

"Viridian!"

"Your damn love is nothing! It's nothing but all four of us waiting for years and fucking years in hopes that someone might come along to love us! Your damn love is us staying awake and yearning for something that will never. Fucking. HAPPEN!" my voice rises and I let it.

"Viridian, please calm down!" she chokes out, squeaking with tears, but I stand over her and cross my arms, every hurtful comment bombarding my memories at once.

"Please," she whispers, her voice shaking with tears, "When you find your somebody it'll be worth it!".

I shake my head. "Worth it. Nothing is worth it! Nothing is worth the rejection, the heartbreak, the hell! Nothing is worth it anymore! I will never be you, Vienna! I will never have your spunk or your positivity, and I will never amount to anything. I will fail. I will let everyone down! Because that's just what love, and life, and everything other emotion in this world, is."

"Cadenza," she pleads. "Cadenza loves you and you love her!"

"Cadenza is a cat. She lives for herself, as all creatures do. And any bond we've ever had is because she is an animal that is too damn stupid to recognize a retard from someone that is smart!"

"How can you say these things?" she chokes.

To be honest, I'm stupid and don't know. All I know is that every thought and fear I've ever had is spilling out of me like a liquid, and there's no stopping it now.

"The thoughts I've been having for eighteen years," I say, crossing my arms and scowling.

"Viridian… Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm done weighing you down. I'm a man now. I'm done tearing down the people that surround me because I'm stupid and need help all the damn time."

"That's not what anyone thinks!"

"Well that's what I do."

She seals the last container, putting the all pills away successfully. She puts the bottles on the dresser and gets up, wrapping her arms around me. I gingerly hug her back, confused. We hug in a silence for a bit as my thoughts get less cloudy.

The next time she speaks, it's pianissimo quiet.

"Do you really think Mary Catherine's arms would be clear if you died? Do you think Cadenza wouldn't sit on the piano and mewl until she realized you weren't coming back? What about me, Viridian?"

"You'd move on."

"I wouldn't. Not without you."

"Yes you would."

She shakes her head. "You're all I've got. You and Mary Catherine. We just lost Diesel… We can't afford to lose you too."

"Okay," I mumble quietly.

"I love you," she whispers.

"You too," I mumble.

"Don't ever think like that again. Promise me."

I pat her head gently. "I'm sorry sad Vienna."

I let go and crawl into bed, trying to fend the events that have just unfolded away from my thoughts. She crawls in next to me and curls up in my back.

"Never," she whispers. I grunt a little bit before sleep takes me.

…

Finally the yelling and laughter turns into an eerie silence as the other guys retire to their rooms, me following. I don't like this military camp, but what can I do?

I'm the first of the four of us to enter the room. It's generic and boring, and the worst part is that there isn't a piano within a five mile radius of this place. I was laughed at for asking.

The first guy to enter the room is older than me by at least seven or so years, and he doesn't look in the mood to be fucked with. He throws his backpack on a bottom bunk and strips off his coat without even saying hello. His hair is a dirty blonde and his bangs are golden. The first thing I notice is his eyebrow piercing, then the one on his nose, and the ones on his ears, more than I can count in that second.

We sit in a quiet, eerie silence. I don't know what to say and feel more uncomfortable than I've ever felt before.

The silence between us is broken by our next roommate entering the room, a notebook tucked under his arm.

"Hi!" he says. At least he seems nice. He tosses his backpack up on the bunk above the other's bed.

"Uh, hi…" I mumble, claiming a bottom bunk.

"I'm Ross," he says with a well-intentioned smile, shaking the orange hair out of his eyes with a smile. "Historian in training." He opens his backpack and starts unloading stacks and stacks of books from it. I watch, interested, though kicking myself for not bringing anything to do if I can't sleep.

"Viridian," I say.

"Phoebus," says the other guy, opening a notebook on his lap. Where his shirt rides up, I notice the top part of a tattoo on his back.

"We're making history!" Ross says cheerily, "Though Games history is certainly more interesting as of right now."

"How deep have you studied?" Phoebus asks, drawing who-knows-what in his notebook.

"Deep enough," he says, laughing. "I'm a senior in college." My first thought is, Nice, only two years older than I am. My second thought is, Fuck.

I sit in a bunk and realize how much darker it is here in the already-dim room.

Our last roommate wanders in, sniffling quietly. He looks to be pretty young, though he's at least 18.

He crawls up the ladder and crawls into the bunk above mine.

"Hey there," Ross tries, looking up. The boy has shaggy cobalt hair.

"Hi," he says, sniffling. He looks…. Sad.

"You okay?" Ross asks. After having glanced up, Phoebus goes back to drawing and I feel like I don't need to contribute anymore, though listen intently. My mind keeps feeling agitated, worse than ever because I don't have my piano.

"The other guys picked on me," he sniffles.

"Rude," says Phoebus, chewing on his eraser.

"Fuck them then," is the response that exits my mouth without me needing it to.

The room goes into silence. A terribly awkward silence. I bury my face in a pillow.

Ross bursts out… laughing. "Well, he isn't wrong!"

I hear a tiny sniffle from the bunk above me, followed by either a cry or a laugh (I can't tell).

"Thanks," he says. He is… Happy? I don't know.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Brio," he says. "And I am 18, thanks a lot."

My ears perk up. "Brio." I know what that means. "It's a music term."

"Yeah, it is!" his voice carries some kind of emotion but I can't see him so I can't tell what it is. Is he happy? Is he angry? Who knows? "My Dad owns the music shop."

Bless that man. "That's where I get my piano books."

"Really? Amazing!" he sounds… Enthused? Either that or obscenely angry.

"Well, it's going to be a long day tomorrow, so let's get to bed. We have history to make!" Ross says. We change into our sleepwear.

"I usually sleep in just boxers," Ross admits, stripping his shirt and pants like it's absolutely nothing. Brio is more private, going to the other side of the room to change. Phoebus changes in his bed, and I wonder how he isn't claustrophobic changing clothes under the covers.

I have no shame considering I'm pretty far from a virgin, stripping and changing into my PJ's with Ross. He steps into some baggy, flannel pants that look pretty old but well-loved, and a baggy, off-white T-shirt.

I step into the shorts and T-shirt I've slept in for almost a year now.

"Nice booty-shorts," whistles Ross, attracting the attention of the other two and causing me to blush bright red and crawl under the covers.

"Oh, relax, I'm just messin' with you. If we're ever going to get along we have to trust our terrible sleeping habits to each other. I sleep-talk. A lot. And morning wood comes much more often than I'd like. And you?"

"I move a lot," Brio says, shrugging.

"Sometimes I snore," shrugs Phoebus.

"How about you, Booty Shorts?" Ross asks, the attention shifting to me. I see Brio's hair hanging down as he peers down at me, a smile spreading across his face.

I consider this. "I dream. Loudly." True. "If I have a nightmare, just shake me. Sometimes I freak out a bit, so… Just say my name. It snaps me out of it."

"Sure thing!" Ross says.

"Sometimes it's not a nightmare, though." Fuck. I'm convinced I'd have a lot less wet dreams if I hadn't seen Mary Catherine's boobs before. Then again, maybe not, it's not always about her. I dive under the covers as the others laugh.

"Hey, no worries," says Ross, shutting off the light, "If you ever need help with an unwanted boner, I'd be glad to offer a helping hand. Or mouth."