2 Minutes to Midnight (Nell/Sky)

[uwu]

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I've heard stories of the Capitol being so much different than the districts, but once I arrived, I feel like it's been overhyped. Yeah, it's a lot nicer than 5 and it has all you can eat and all that, but... I dunno. SOmething feels off. It must be the looming expiration date of 23 of us coming up. It wasn't something I enjoyed thinking about while watching the games, but it came, it saw, and it settled in the back of my mind ever since I entered the train. Every time I would doze off on the train, I woke up in a sweat. Every time I tried to eat, my stomach would reject it. Both situations are weird because I haven't ever happened to me ever. I've felt... off, almost like a parasite or a small drone worked its way into my brain and messed with it.

I remember walking up to the stage, then jumping to talking to my family, then random bits and pieces of the train ride, then arriving at the Capitol. Now, my eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding me. I don't even know if I'm blinking it's so dark. It takes me a moment that I managed to get myself under all of the bedsheets in my temporary bed Well that would explain why I'm in a damn cacoon right now. Squirming around trying to find the edge and get myself out of the damn trap I made myself must look hella strange from anyone watching from the outside, but when have I ever cared about others? When have I ever even noticed if others noticed?

As soon as I find the edge, I fling off the covers. Soon after, goosebumps greet my skin That would explain a lot now. As I get out of bed, my feet never touch the ground. They touch ice. Who the hell turned the temperature down this far? Whatever. I make my way over to my dresser while grumbling about the damn cold to grab something to put over my tank top and underwear. A nice, soft, blue flannel, sweatpants, and wool socks find their way onto my body. They did their job of warming me up, but my body doesn't want to sleep anymore. Goddamnit... What time is it anyway? 2:48 am? That's not too bad. I can stall for a while until the training place opens? I think? I wish I remembered when it was open. It would nice to gain some skills before being thrust into the arena.

However, my stomach had other ideas. It screamed at me to give it some food. Oh shit, I haven't successfully eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. Time to find the kitchen. I leave my room to return instantly to grab some shoes before heading back out again. A minute or so into my blind stumbling, I don't really know where I'm going. I didn't pay attention to any of the tour guide's words and only cared about getting sleep. I really should find a map. Or maybe an Avox. Are they awake this late? I doubt anyone else is. I set off to find someone or something to help me.

I eventually stumble into a hallway that had an elevator and the end of it, which made my stomach growl louder. "I'm SORRY. I want food as much as you do. We're almost there, though. Hopefully, this leads straight to food." I push the button, and a few minutes later it dings as the door open. Rushing in blindly is never a good idea, no matter how hungry anyone is. As I enter, I overestimate the size of it and run into the back wall. I turn around to push the button to the bottom floor to find out it already got pushed. Oh. That's odd. I push it anyways just in case.

The elevator slows and then comes to a stop before opening the doors. I'm about to move before I see something move next to me. "Oh, fuck. What the hell?" Taking a better look at the moving object, I realize it's a fellow tribute. "Shit, I'm really sorry. I didn't see you there. How long have you been in there? Nevermind. Do you know where the food is stored? My stomach is trying to eat itself." My stomach roars, almost on cue. I really hope this person knows. I need food soon.

[cameron]

My head is filled with water. Thoughts swim like fish. Red fish. Goldfish. Flat fish. The boy from four ate one earlier. A flat fish. I'd never seen such. I don't think I want to again. I'm content with breaded birds. My stomach growls. The chickens swim out my head. Their feathers are drenched. But they are gone. My thoughts swim faster.

I am drunk.

It's easier this way. To meet people. To stay alive. To forget my scars. The hollow cherry pit. Death, around the corner. Judgment day on my heels. My bare feet are cold on the tile floor. The bathroom is bigger than my bedroom at home. A reflection of me stares back. Unblinking. Swaying. Hands tight on the counter.

This mirror is bigger than my bedroom at home. Or maybe it's the reflection. Of the mirror. Maybe.

"Hi, Nell," I say. "Hi, Nell," she says back. We smile.

She looks friendlier than me. I know my sunken eyes can be off-putting. My dead stare a warning to stay away. To avoid. But in the mirror she is smiling. Am I smiling? I am. We're better this way. With vodka in our stomachs. Both growl. I think hers might be louder.

Eyes across from me widen. I want scrambled eggs. "I want scrambled eggs." We say it together, and brush fingertips. I turn and leave. No shoes. Boxer shorts my Avox found for me and a clean white shirt. I feel gross when I say 'my Avox.' But she is. My Avox. And she got me these boxer shorts.

I'm in the elevator. I'm going down. My left hand pulls on my lip. Is it still pouting? Do I look mean? I want to look like me in the mirror. I have a bad feeling she is unattainable. But so is all of life, now. I don't pay attention when I stop moving. I don't notice when the girl barrels past me and into the wall. I'm busy.

Life will not wait for me. It is slipping from my fingers fast. Faster. It's racing away like one of those seamstresses from 8. Mass-producing the same fake silk dress again and again. Life will not wait for them. They will be tired and pain-addled before ever allowed to be. And life will be gone by then. It will be gone for me even sooner. The elevator stops and my angst halts along: eggs. I feel my body ache for the dead children of my wet head chickens. It carries me forward through the open doors.

Then she speaks. She says so much. Too much. I turn to her, and light curls bounce back. She's cute. She's still talking. It's still too much. Fish swim behind my eyes. And her stomach roars.

Louder than my mirror's.

"What a catch," I think I think but actually say. Impressed, I resume my stumbling search for the kitchen. I hope she follows.

Two doors swing open. Rows of refrigerators and stoves. I open my mouth, but the doors swing back. Smack. I tumble forward. Water spills from my brain. Poor fish. I push myself up to my elbows. Glancing over my shoulder. "Sup?" Casual. Relaxed. A girl not thinking about her inevitable death. I'm fine. I promise.

[uwu]

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All the fellow tribute says in response to everything I said is "What a catch." Is that supposed to be a compliment? DOes it have to do with the kitchen or food? What does it mean?!?! She stumbles forward on her own personal quest to wherever. Watching her struggle to walk down the hallway releases a small burst of laughter for some reason. I haven't seen anyone act like this before now. I wonder what got into her. I should probably keep an eye out on her to make sure she doesn't accidentally hurt herself.

She soon enters a pair of doors and stands there in silence. It doesn't hit me that the doors would swing back until I watch them nock her over. I rush in as she looks back at me. "Sup?" More laughter erupts from my mouth. "Hey." I give her a soft smile. "Are you alright?" I really hope she is because I am not quailified to medically help anyone.

I look around at the surrounding room. Oh, thank ripred. I can't wait to see what they have to offer. I open the first fridge in the long line. "Wow." My family wasn't living in poverty and always had plenty of food, but the amount stored in this fridge alone could feed all of my family 3 times a day for at least a week. I glance back at the girl that brought me here. "Do you want me to make you anything? It's the least I can do for you taking me here."

I pull out a carton of eggs for myself as well as a tortilla and some hot sauce. "I'm gonna make myself a breakfast burrito. Or I guess in this case a midnight snack burrito. Or would it be..." Huh. Breakfast is from sunrise to midday, lunch is midday, dinner is evening, and midnight snacks would be midnight. Ish. "I guess would you like a late night snack?" I grab a pan and crack a couple of eggs into it. Shoot. I forgot to grease the pan. Well the avoxes can clean it. It's their job. anyways. I open the fridge up again. Hmmm, lets see What else can I add to this burrito? So many options. I shrug and grab as much food as I can carry. If it all fails, I can keep making burritos until I find the right combination of food. Now hopefully she doesn't ask me to make anything too complicated. I can cook to survive, not profesionally.

[cameron]

She laughs at me. She has noodles for hair. She still laughs at me.

It's warm. It's not the laughter I expect. ("Do not assume others' intentions, Cornell. It will only--" "--make an ass of me. I know." "I was going to say rot your teeth and dry out your crops. But yes.") I make myself an ass regardless. Dr. Eams can't fix that now.

That's not how Noodles looks at me. That's not in her laugh. There is a cheer I don't know. Unrecognizable. Real. My crops feel dried. I hate when he's right. That he's right.

"Hey, are you alright?" Her lips meet. Their corners curl. Like her hair. I am so hungry. I want to tell her. She looks away. "Wow," she says. I watch her from the floor. My head spins. My back aches. My eyes don't leave hers. In seconds, she forgets. About me. Entirely. I see her eyes grow. Become the moon. Fill the sky. She opens a refrigerator. Dawn comes early. Her face lights up. Noodles is captivated.

I am an afterthought. I am not even a thought. Not anymore. She has seen me enough. She has met her quota. She is full of Nell. Her mind is elsewhere. I am not important to her. I gave her a nickname. She does not remember me. Not one bit.

"Do you want me to make you anything?"

She grabs something. Closes the fridge door. The night is back. The moons are high. The giant smile on my face - fuck. I frown. I frown harder. I hope she sees me frowning. My face hurts where I smiled.

Dr. Eams tells me not to fake reactions. To be genuine with others. But Dr. Eams is a middle aged man. He can do that. My life is deceit. My life is hidden. I need that.

Noodles cracks an egg. I hear explosions. They are inside me. My stomach. My throat. My head. "My mouth." I say where I want - "eggs." It waters. My mouth. Not my egg. I do not yet have one. She cracks a few more. Returns to the fridge. Lets in the sun. I push up from the ground. There is something sticky on my shin. Feels like syrup. It can wait. Two quick steps. Composed. I finish walking to the stove. I grab an egg. I crack it. I grab another egg. I crack it. I grab another egg. I crack it. I hear the fridge door shut. I turn. There is Noodles. Arms full of groceries. I am still looking at her. I grab another egg. I crack it. Let it flop into the pan. I smile at her. "We need more." I have to know she understands. "More eggs."