the real himbos of district five [niko/itzal]

[pup]

He rinses his mouth one more time in the sink, making sure all the remnants of puke made their way out. Spitting one last time, he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror.

He's a mess. His normally manicured hair was frazzled by his fall up to the podium and the televised hangover vomit had left his features pale. Clearly, he's off to a great start already.

After splashing his face in the water, using the softest toothbrush he'd ever used to thoroughly wash his mouth, and combing his hair back to its proper place, he felt ready to face the rest of the train. Thankfully, the reaping had shocked him out of most of his hangover. Now, the only nausea he felt was from the pit in his stomach he imagined most tributes have after they are reaped.

Exiting the bathroom, he enters the gold-gilded hall and makes his way towards the dining hall. That's the direction his district partner had headed while Niko was begging an avox to point him towards a bathroom when they boarded the train. After turning a shining doorknob, Niko entered the magnificent room. Ignoring the chandelier swaying in rhythm with the train and the piles of sweets, Niko headed straight towards the various breads.

Piling up a plate of garlicky cheese-encrusted toast, he looks around the room and spots the guy who had volunteered just before Niko's mishap of a reaping. Niko nods in his direction, "Hey man, I'll be over in a minute. I gotta grab a few things first."

In the background, the television was blaring with the annual reaping recap. The announcer was chattering on about the exciting cast of characters who had somehow made their way into the 93rd hunger games. He mentioned an oddly large number of volunteers, which must include Niko's district partner sitting in the booth.

He started to make his way over to the booth after pouring himself a glass of water, chugging it, and then pouring himself another. Collapsing into the seat's padding, he takes a bite from the cheesy bread, letting it melt away the final remnants of his headache. After taking a sip of his water, he leans back in the seat and lets out a deep breath.

"The name's Niko, nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn't catch yours. I was a bit preoccupied with eating shit in front of everyone,"

He reaches up and fixes his hair once again while he listens to the guy across from him. The announcer begins to speak up, his voice becoming even more melodramatic as the reapings begin. The girl from one stands up and takes her spot, Steele Cassidy says the text displayed under her picture on the screen. It's a surprise no other career jumped in to volunteer for her, but the next drawing rectifies that entirely.

"Who am I?" the boy starts, his voice carrying over the speakers as the announcer chortles happily, "A Le Roux. A Fray. Perhaps I'm one of those Bridgertons-"

Niko mimes puking, again, making a fake retching sound.

"I, Dyno Moreno, am going to be a legend, One."

"What do you think?" Niko says, nodding towards the screen displaying the overdramatic career from One before looking back at his district partner.

"Man," he continues through another mouthful of bread, shaking his head, "if he kills me I think I'll jump out a window."

---

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I t z a l

Is this having fun?
Or is it just because?
Which one is jumping first
Off of the face of the earth?

You ever gotten a hug that you thought might break you to pieces?

There won’t be pain like this.

Not when someone inevitably bashes in my skull or gouges out my eyes.

When I closed my eyes on the train, I could still smell the jasmine and rose perfume my mother had been wearing, feel the warmth of her cheeks when she pressed her head against mine, and hear the way her star shaped earrings had clinked when her head shifted.

She wanted to know why – when there hadn’t been a reason for me, when my name hadn’t been drawn, when I had two more years, and everything would’ve been just fine.

She might’ve called me stupid, might’ve said that she hated me and what I was doing to her, but then, all of that collapsed in on itself and she shone.

Her love burned hot when she wrapped those arms around me, never wanting to let go.

‘My little boy,’ She whispered because I was the youngest, the littlest, the one who could’ve kept going, kept running, for her.

(I put you through a lot shit these years, mom - wish I could've said that, and that I get to tell you that someday, too).

She kept talking to me, tears staining her blouse, and I had my hands up on my forehead as I listened to her, jaw clenched so tight I might have gotten close to shattering each molar at the back of my head.

“I’m sorry,” I said, in between the little gasps she and I made trying to get another word, because I don’t know why I thought stepping forward wasn’t some sort of stupid decision, maybe the stupidest one I’ve ever made (and I’ve made enough in sixteen years).

“I’m so sorry,” I said it again, but it doesn’t carry half the weight.

I regretted ever saying the words that brought me to the justice building.

You think I could still tell them, hey guys, just kidding! I don’t want to play anymore. You can get that girl, still? I mean, there had to be someone else that’d volunteered and decided they weren’t half up to it before they got on the train. It’s been ninety years and you’re telling me not one single person got cold feet after throwing their whole life away?

Fuck.

(I did it for you, dad!)

I hope when all of this is over, if he’s out there, he gets to see what running off did to all of us. Not how bad things were, because they weren’t. But that I was a whole lot better off without him.

Or that if he’d never left, I wouldn’t have decided to run, either.

I didn’t know what to make of the train.

The touches of gold for the lights, the wallpaper, shag carpet, it all just screams a sort of opulence of a time that’s come and gone. Like maybe the best years of panem have already passed, and we’re just living through the dream of people who died a long time ago. Nothing gold can stay, and all that, you know?

It wasn’t hard to get comfortable, at least, not after throwing myself into a bathroom stalls and washing my face free of the tears and regret I’d accumulated in the justice building.

“You’re a fucking star,” I pointed my finger at the mirror and held it there. (Someone told me once that we had to visualize what we believed for it to be true and in that moment, I thought they were just full of shit.)

I found the meal car and made a cup of coffee. They had the televisions on to let us watch the rest of the reapings, which is odd because I’d always wondered if they were at the same time or if some people had to wake up way earlier than we did. I skipped the buffet. I’m not really the type to eat my feelings, you know?

‘The name's Niko, nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn't catch yours. I was a bit preoccupied with eating shit in front of everyone.’

He slid into the booth like we were old pals, and I got to admit, that’s charming in and of itself. Good people know how to shake your hand and treat you on the level. He didn’t seem the type to be ready for this, not from the way he’d fallen in front of everyone.

I blew across the top of the coffee I’d poured and gave a smile to Niko.

“Itzal Usoa. Nice to meet you too, Niko.” I lifted my cup in a cheer before taking another sip.

District One blared on in the background, and when the Moreno kid started to speak my mouth hung open. Is this kid for real?

‘Man, if he kills me I think I'll jump out a window.’ Bread crumbs tumbled down Niko’s chin, and I let out a laugh.

What did I think?

“Me? Money’s on him having a baby dick.” I lifted my pinky with a wiggle. I pointed to Steele when she flashed across the screen. “But she could get it.”

The anthem played again, this time shifting cameras to the newly crowned district of shit, two.

“Um. Hmm.” Etta and Pierce put on their performance, and I’m caught up in the show – almost, until he introduces himself as Romeo. “Was I supposed to have something prepared when I volunteered? Damn.”

They post a picture of Yael but there’s no recording. Now that was interesting.

“What happened to the girl, you think?”

ELEGANT

[pup]

Itzal Usoa.

The two ghosts stared up at the screen. As they viewed their competitors faces, all Niko could do is try to ignore the hopelessness building in him. Tributes from five don't win, and the lack of mentors sitting next to them on the train proved it. Niko could hardly blame them, honestly. If he was in their situation, Niko wouldn't want to sit next to a pair of corpses after the death of Patricia Valfierno either.

He swallows his chunk of bread and gulps down some water as Itzal continues the observations.

"Me? Money’s on him having a baby dick.”

Niko snorts. Despite the clear lack of sanity from the volunteer, he was starting to grow on Niko.

"But she could get it."

Tilting his head, he took another look at the girl, Steele Cassidy. Sure, she was hot, but something about her screamed if you come near me I will shoot you. There was a limit to the crazy he could take. Before he could say any words of caution to his district five compatriot, the screen switched to the recap from district two.

"Was I supposed to have something prepared when I volunteered? Damn."

He shook his head in disbelief, wanting to puke once again. What about these careers from district one and two made them such drama queens. Give it a year and no one's going to remember a dramatic proclamation at the reaping. Most of the careers are going to be just as dead as the other tributes in a few days.

"Nah dude, you did it right. They're just desperate for attention."

But the attention quickly shifts away from the one-man play, unluckily for him. Yael Damris had upstaged him, likely with half the amount of effort.

"What happened to the girl, you think?”

Niko shrugged, taking a sip from his water to finish washing down his meal. The pounding in his head finally ceased as he slid to the back of the booth, leaning against the window and crossing his arms.

"Probably tried to get the hell out of dodge. No one volunteered, so we'll probably see her show up in the Capitol."

And he didn't want to find out what anyone who could evade the peacekeepers for so long would do to him in the arena. It would probably be best to stay out of her way.

The number three appeared on the screen with a flourish as the camera panned in on a boy in a crowd.

"I'm sure you guys will find another fucktoy to fuck around with. So fuck you!"

The name Brennan Fitzgerald appeared beneath him as the announcer laughed heartily in the background. "A feisty one from three!"

"I'm fucking going, okay?"

"I like him." Niko says with a chuckle, "He's the only one who's acted like a real person so far." That probably wouldn't get him too far, though, from what Niko's seen. Anyone who's been a normal human has died in the first few minutes, probably from someone like that overzealous Romeo from two.

Niko shook his head as he watched another tribute volunteer on the screen soon after Brennan took his place. The volunteer from three, Duke Nixton it says beneath him on the screen, gets up with thankfully little ceremony. Eating all that cheesy bread was starting to cause a riot in his stomach, and Niko doesn't think he could take anymore melodramatics.

"Place your bets on why he volunteered. I'm going with he found a spider in his house and he's trying to escape," he says, looking across the table at Itzal, "I'm not sure why else someone would volunteer."

---

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I t z a l

Is this having fun?
Or is it just because?
Which one is jumping first
Off of the face of the earth?

No one ever talks about how big of a production the games is operations wise. You have to imagine that there are people who are forced to organize it in the districts every year, and there’s bound to be a hiccup or two. I mean, no one expects someone to just up and run or not show up to a reaping, and what are you supposed to do then when you pull out a name and she’s just not there?

If she could last that long without being found says more about her and less about the dingbats who just assumed all of us would show up at the reaping.

I wouldn’t have thought about running, I guess, but now that I think about it, wouldn’t have been the worst idea. At the very least it makes them look like idiots when things don’t go perfectly to plan.

Brennan crows at the other kids and I raised an eyebrow.

I could get along with a guy like that. Someone who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind – extra points for the number of f bombs he managed to drop in such a short span of time.

“Yeah, I don’t mind it at all, would rather someone show a little bit of themselves than try to put on a show…” I agreed. Duke stepped forward and it’s a slow sort of swagger, determined. Did I look like that when I’d called out to volunteer?

“We all have our reasons,” I said, “Dude, if you’d asked me this morning if I was going to do it I might’ve laughed my ass of. And if he’s anything like me, he probably already regrets it.”

Was I saying too much?

The train rattles on through another patch of trees and hills, and it’s then I get up to make myself a plate. I throw a few crackers and squares of cheese, a slice of ham and pepperoni, some grapes, and a cupcake together.

I missed the anthem playing, so it’s right into four we went.

“Hah. Gay!” I said pointing to the screen when Maverick steps forward to comfort Ezera. I put a hand behind my head and narrowed my eyes. “Geez. These guys are making me look like an idiot for not giving my reason for going up there.”

The red head was all business, and you could hear a pin drop when she walked on stage.

“This chick’s really bumming me out. Don’t ask me why. Call it a vibe.”

ELEGANT

[pup]

Itzal talks and Niko stays silent. He doesn't have a clever retort or really anything to say to his district partner. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the screen as the camera pans away from district three. Itzal must have something wrong with him, there must be a reason for why he's so willing to jump into death's arena, despite what he says.

District four was normal, two careers. A muscled volunteer and a scary looking red-head.

"Ha, gay!" Yells Itzal, his plate now stacked high with Capitolite goodies. Niko snorts, the camaraderie resumed as he pushes away thoughts of trying to figure out the real reason Itzal volunteered. If he wants to keep his reasons private, that's his prerogative.

"Geez. These guys are making me look like an idiot for not giving my reason for going up there.”

Niko shakes his head, "Nah, he's just trying to show off for the cameras. You don't seem like a dick so you don't need to do that." He watches the boy from four, Maverick Marlow, the screen says, and notes that he's someone else to stay away from.

When the girl from four takes the stage to a silent crowd, her sharp eyes make Niko take stock of her. She may not be much of a talker, but she's definitely dangerous.

"This chick’s really bumming me out. Don’t ask me why. Call it a vibe"

Bummed out was right. The girl seemingly sucked the life out of the usually rowdy career district.

"I thought I had a thing for redheads, but she's scaring me off."

When the number 5 appears on the screen, Niko wants to bury his face in his hands, but he knows that he has to see what the Capitol, and potential sponsors, saw.

There's Itzal volunteering for the girl who's name Niko didn't catch before, Irena Lark, and he wonders if Itzal maybe knows her from somewhere.

"I wonder who that hottie is," he jokes, "the Capitolites better hide their girlfriends."

Before Niko can say anything else, the camera pans to him puking everywhere. He winces as it shows him pushing himself away from the peacekeepers and towards the stage.

"At least they got my good side," he says, trying to maintain a happy tone while the cheesy bread turns over in his stomach at the sight of his throw up. He'll have to do a lot of damage control to get any chance of a sponsorship.

The cameras then get a shot of the two boys standing side by side on stage. One soldier, one disheveled rat. At least Niko looks a bit better once he fixes his hair for the camera.

"You have to admit we do look pretty cool up there," he says as the camera settles on them. They were nothing imposing, but at least they weren't like any of the spooky-looking tributes from the past four districts.

---