your old friend and one . novak oneshots

[MATTIO]

n o v a k . a d r i á n

For the first time in what feels like months, you sleep in your own bed. It has been an impossible challenge for you to make your back here in the midst of all your campaigning. There's an election to win– a throne to capture– but that doesn't mean you haven't missed a comfortable mattress and pillow that is your own. It's an objective worth fighting for, you know that, but the glimpse of the waning humanity inside of you calls for a moment of rest. The election is tomorrow, and you've done all you can do to make it through these weeks as the best candidate for the job.

You hope the mist you'd sprayed upon the streets of District Ten births a storm in your favor. You've pretended that your desires lie solely in making Ten better for the everyday butcher or farmhand. And it will for those who learn to trust you implicitly and not look too deep for the cracks. You've planned schemes with Damaris whenever you have crossed her path: weapons, drugs, and money, hidden away inside a trojan horse of fun and revitalization.

You toss your body chest-first against your tidy bed. There are a couple stacks of mail and letters, but mostly bills, lined up atop the blanket squared away at the foot. You rummage through them, sending all of the bills and names you don't recognize onto the chest beside your bed. The sorting leaves only two letters left in your hands: monthly words of encouragement from Aunt Drea and a sealed and stamped letter, signed in the bottom right corner: Lillia.

elegant

[MATTIO]

n o v a k . a d r i á n

You unseal the envelope and pull out the handwritten letter inside. It's certainly Lillia's handwriting. You were close back when you were still in high school. Some called you both an item, but the thought of a committed relationship with anyone leaves you nervous. Still, you haven't spoken to her in years, maybe even a decade. Back then, you were just getting accustomed to your life as an heir and friendships were sent away to the side.

Reminiscing about old times leaves you smiling as you begin to read the letter.

Adrián,

I've heard in recent weeks that you're running for mayor. Congratulations, I mean it. Whether you showed it or not, you always had quite the eye for politics.

I was debating if I should send you this. I don't want to leave you stressed or guilty because everything we went through was such a long time ago. It's my fault for not telling you the truth as soon as I found out.

Okay.

After we stopped speaking and you moved away, I found out that I was pregnant. And I kept the baby.

I'm telling you this because my partner got laid off of their job: we're running low on money. I know its a big ask, but I know you're much better off than we are.

We need money, Adrián. We need your help, one way or another. I don't want you to feel pressure, but you are our one way out. If you can help us out here, Kara and I will just stay out of your hair.

And here's a picture, too, just for you to know we're not making this up. Me, your daughter Kara, and my partner, Yasha.

Meet us at our old bar when you get the chance. Same place, same spot in the back.

Take care, Adri.

Lillia.

This certainly wasn't how you planned Election Eve to go. You throw a pillow over your head and try to clear it from your mind. Tomorrow's a big day. This can wait to the next.

elegant

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