hello my loneliness || nico & beck blitz

Somewhere inside of Nico's thick skull, he knows that Beck deserves better than him.

When the younger boy pulls a silly face, it makes something tug and taunt at something in Nico's chest that he's really only ever felt around Reggie and Ten, a kind of camaraderie that feels like familiarity that never had to be earned, just was. "Oh, there's no way I'm going to try and beat you on that one. you can have that crown," he replies back automatically, mirroring the boys grin as best as he knows how. He's so practiced in it now, pretending that everything is fine, better than fine, like it's all jolly good high ho. "I think Sampson might cut my tongue out and make me their avox if I got caught looking like anything other than a broody supermodel in one of their designs. Broody supermodel or one of the Capitol's favorite playboys, those are my options in this suit." If he were willing to really think about it for longer than half a second, Nico might realize there was something to the familiarity that was probably more about shared trauma than there was about having anything particularly specific in common, but really all that he's willing to admit to himself are the obvious parts, like how t's hard to ignore the fact that all the greatest moments of self-reflection come from the worst moments in a persons life. Chaos and horror, that's where a person learns who they really are. That's when you really learn exactly who everyone else is.

And Beck knows exactly what it's like to learn who he is through the horrible things that he's done.

What it's like to tear out pieces of himself over and over and over and be left with only the jagged edges to try and be something resembling human.

And the thing is, Nico knew that Beck would do something like this, be silly and need to pretend to be okay because he knows what it's like to be someone who if you're not pretending to be okay then you're going to realize it feels like the world is falling down and—Nico knew that he wouldn't be able to let it go. He knew exactly what the games were going to do to the newest victor, exactly what buttons the Capitol were pressing over and over and over again because he'd had his own pressed more times than he was willing to admit. And Nico knows that he's mad about Dom, mad about what he did to Callum, mad about the fact that he don't know how to be anything other than mad. Nico is so desperately angry about the fact that he isn't the only one in the fucking world that feels this way, mad that Beck has to feel this way too—mad that this world that you all live in is a constant horror of mirror mirror on the wall, who can be the cruelest one of all.

He's mad that the photographers taking photos of them through the window are a show of absolute fucking power from the Capitol.

Mad that no one is ever willing to let go of power.

And he's especially mad that the happiness he feels echoing through his chest when Beck is so clearly trying to show off for him feels tainted by some kind of guilt.

He still grins.

It's what he's best at.

"You—" Nico stares at him wide-eyed, jaw slack as the other boy pulls the lighter out and works some kind of magic. Logically, he knows that there's a science there, and that as cool as this is it also is kind of fucking nerdy, but it's half the charm, Nico is pretty sure. "Do it again," he demands, shoving his own bottle back towards Beck and watching as he does it the second times, attention rapt. "Little Hailsham," Nico replies when Beck hands him back the bottle and takes a very long swig from his own. "Losers cannot do shit like that."

He takes his own swig before the mischief he is so well-versed in takes flight in his eyes and he gives Back a look, then let's his eyes rove around the room.

"Company can't get any better, sure, but maybe the circle could get wider," he says conspiratorially. "Think we should invite some others to our version of five o'clock somewhere?"


He hopes the boy knows he can say no.