night-time ghosts.— [six/love]

[Deleted]

Ever since Six had arrived to the Capitol it had been near impossible to get a peaceful nights sleep. The first issue was the silence that permeated his room. At home it was never this silent. Growing up with so many siblings meant there was always some sort of noise, even when it was lights out. And even when everyone was asleep, the old wood of the O'Malley house creaked in the wind. The creaking, snoring, and playing were all sounds that were almost like a lullaby to him growing up. And now? He missed it. 

Despite the silence, eventually he would pass out from tiredness and manage to fall asleep each night. But, that wasn't the end of his sleep issues. No, that was just the beginning. Each and everytime he fell asleep since the reaping he was swarmed with nightmares. Often times they woke him up, and even when they didn't he still woke up feeling exhausted. The content of the nightmares did vary slightly, but for the most part he had the same nightmares repeating over and over again each and every night.

The first nightmare was his own death. Him getting murdered by some mysterious tribute within the Hunger Games. The second involved his family. In these dreams his siblings either got reaped or volunteered in his place. And he had to watch them die and suffer through the Hunger Games. And none of them ever won in those nightmares. The third and final type of nightmare he got was everyone telling him what a failure he was. His mentors saying he wasn't worth his time. His family screaming at him for abandoning them. The other tributes calling him worthless and weak. The Gamemakers giving him a 0, not even a 1.

But today? Today was different. This was a nightmare he had never experience before. In this nightmare he wasn't himself. Instead, he was Winger O'Malley. He watched from her perspective as she got reaped and walked onto the stage. He felt the cold metal bars of the cages the tributes were kept in back then. All of a sudden he felt the icy cold salt water and felt as though he might drown. And in the next scene? He was reliving her death through her. It was horrible.

The moment Winger died, the boy shot awake, panting. He couldn't do this. It was terrifying. He felt like he was being watched all of a sudden. The question is, who was he being watched by? Winger O'Malley? God? Some other unseen force? He had to get out of that silent room. He had to it was only making his fear rise more and more. So without even putting on his shoes, Six O'Malley got out of bed and headed out on a late-night adventure.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for or where he was going as he began to explore the Training Center. He just wanted to stop thinking about Winger. As he passed a window for a second he thought he saw her looking at him from the other side of the glass. He knew that was impossible and sure enough whatever his brain thought it saw was gone as soon as it appeared. This was a result of his brain still being half-asleep while also being scared.

Then as he rounded a corner he saw a tribute, one he was pretty sure could kill him 500 ways with just his bare hands. Love Bellisario. Love was one of the people who terrified him. He was a career, a few years older than the boy, and was also much bigger than Six was. He must've looked quite pathetic in that moment. He was in his pajamas, his curly red hair was far more messy than usual due to bed head, and he was shaking badly. Seeing someone like Love when he was already scared just made everything worse. His voice trembled as he spoke, "Wha-what are you doing out here so late?"

[pogue]

C   A   L   L   U   M

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He’s established traditions by his fourth night in the Training Center, patterns written in stone and the cracked open door of his room at half past midnight. He sits at the end of the hallway in a chair too comfortable for its own good, writing down the days learnings and questions about his tributes in the notebook kept under his pillow. His eyes drift from the white of the paper to the windows in front of him, neon light scattering and bouncing as it claws its way through from the outside.

It’s his favorite view in the whole building, putting him at near eye level to the elaborate buildings that are scattered all around the training center. He watches intently, notepad in his left hand and pen in his right absentmindedly tapping the object against the paper.

It’s methodical and slow as he stares out of the floor to ceiling glass windows at the end of the hallway in front of him, watching the blurry silhouettes of a hundred different capitolites celebrating the eighty eighth hunger games. They move and dance and blur together from time to time, their reflections cast in blood and stone and an infinite number of neon lights. 

Love sees the boy’s reflection before anything else, timid and afraid and orange hair bouncing softly as he comes to a sudden halt after rounding the corner. Love smirks, tilting his head and recognizing the signature fiery hair of Six O’Malley. It burns itself into the glass reflection, shaking form a stark contrast to the gleeful dancing of the party he can spot from across the street. Love glances down at his notebook, twenty three harshly cut images of his fellow tributes that he’d ripped from a stolen newspaper staring back at him. He circles Six with one quick stroke, blood red line left in his pens wake. 

Six’s voice is a chattering mess of nerves and fear, words shaking clumsily from his mouth as he finally addresses him. Love responds by writing the word afraid in letters next to his picture.

Fear, he could work with that.

Love arches his back and leans over the edge of the chair in a relaxed manner, twisting his head and staring down the boy from Eleven with a warm smile plastered to his face. He’s a comedic sight, unkempt hair and pajamas clinging desperately to his thin form. But if Love is going to pry for a weak spot, he’d have to work with it.

“Couldn’t I ask you the same thing, kid?” He says in a joking manner, tilting his head.

[Deleted]

The way Love reacted actually comforted him in a weird way. The reason he was scared of Love was his appearance mixed with the fact he was a career. But, maybe he was actually a nice guy. At least he was acting nice right now. He let out a small yawn and rubbed his eyes.  If he wasn't so tired he probably would've laughed slightly at Love, but he did look a little less scared and shaky. The fear wasn't even entirely his fault. A big part of it was the circumstances in which he woke up. And luckily for Love, he was too tired to think clearly.

This was far later than he'd ever stay up at home. They had to get up early back on the farm in order to get everything that needed done for the day done. Often times they would be up and moving before the sun even rose. This meant that went to bed very early, probably a lot earlier than kids younger than him from other districts. That's just what farm life does to you. He was about to make some reason why he was up that didn't involve nightmares of your murdered relatives when he noticed the excitement out the window and walked over to it, not even seeing the notebook yet.

The bright lights from the party was something new to him. Maybe people from the upper districts like Love were used to parties, but parties back in district eleven were very different. If you could afford it you would bring some food, if not you'd just have drinks out for your guests. You'd wear some of your nicer clothes and all gather in someone's living room to chitchat. He wasn't totally stupid and knew that it was a party, but it still mesmerised him to watch. It was enthralling to him. It was a life he would never be a part of. He slowly drew his attention back to Love.

He decided that he could try to talk to him. Love wasn't near as tired as he was and this was just the distraction Six needed. He knew the more he thought about Winger O'Malley the worse  it would all get.  His nightmares and his brain thinking it sees Winger were all a result of the fear of it preoccupying itself in his mind. If his mind thought about something else, it wouldn't effect him. He decided to try talking about district two.

The upper districts had always fascinated him. They were like some imaginary place to him similar to Neverland. They were so different to everything he had ever known. He was too scared to ever really ask about them. Normally asking made him feel like Icarus and he didn't want to fly too close the sun and have everything come tumbling down. But now? His tired brain was curious. His tired brain wanted answers to that in which he had always been curious about. 

When he spoke this time his voice was less shaky, though not he sounded a lot more tired. It sounded like he might fall asleep standing up right there and then. He felt like it too as he began to question the career, "Do you mind if I ask you what your home district is like? District two? It just seems so... different to me. Even the Capitol almost feels fake to me."