back to hey hi, hello // beck & enzo
Feb 11, 2021 17:30:57 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2021 17:30:57 GMT -5
"Full house, huh?" He said to Saylor Bell, the latest dead boy on this train. Sometimes Lorenzo's convinced he's just a ghost, like he can focus on his hands and slip straight through the attention of anyone who's around. Twenty one and maybe he's just made the whole thing up, fancy collar choking up to his jaw.
They say when you die, it all goes in a blink of an eye, right?
You're on the ground bleeding at eighteen, and maybe he's just between the shutter frames. It feels like just three months ago he was happy to be alive, eating shrimp on a stick with Beck - three months before that, that same kid was bleeding from a bullhorn. Time flies so fast that Enzo could believe it's all just his final blinks clicking along. Hollywood never left his mind and he's been searching for that treasure trove ever since he left.
Siren song, it calls him back the same way Beck always did, and Lorenzo tries not to answer the phone anymore.
He was doing just fine too, before Saffron.
And then he picked up the call, and yelled and cried, and laughed that shit off like a pink little bandaid on his kneecap -- it fucking stings. He sits in an empty room on the train, trying to steer away from Ansgar's tributes. Who is Lorenzo to give advice on winning? The best thing he ever did in his games was fucking die and go to therapy.
His best advice is to get someone else to adopt you and pray for a miracle. Maybe Stella or Shelby are looking for kids, hell if he knew. Instead, he lays on the high rail bunk, replaying every shit conversation he's had in the last year and getting sick over it again. The ride is smooth as ever, just as he remembered it, and yet he's still down from motion sickness. Twisted gut, Lorenzo buries his head into the deco pillow, scraping his forehead on bedazzles.
Call it what you will, but Lorenzo's never been a fan. The phone rings and he doesn't answer, the lock to his room bolted shut with the do not disturb sign set -- if they need him so bad, they'll see him soon enough. Not like he can go anywhere crazy on a whole ass train.
If he could have jumped, he would have done so a long time ago.
He sleeps the rest of the way, cuddled onto a bench under his lightweight coat. Every year he matures and finds new ways to make a fool of himself, it's kind of his whole thing. Three years ago it was running away from home, hiding out with Jimmy and being excited that Saffron and Mace were so worried. Two years ago, the boat - that motherfucking boat.
Last year it was the self destruction, melting his own foundations until he could feel comfort in the rubble. Laying his dues and wasting away, as if he could die hard enough to match his own sister; he hasn't talked about it, and he still doesn't need to. He feels it enough, and that's enough for him. It's like an emotional hip pain, Lorenzo kept convincing himself that it would stop hurting after a few days.
A few weeks.
A year.
And now he's in the middle of the beginning, escorted behind Mace, behind Saff, behind Saylor and Langley, dressed up like he belongs in the group. Some people are just lucky, he takes his pain in strides and reaps all the benefits. Mace and Saffron killed their dues, Ansgar too. Langley and Saylor will figure out the middle of the sentence, but Lorenzo can't be responsible for that.
That's not quite his forte, you know?
He splits from them early, hugging his father and getting an ear full from his mother. She hugs him, of course, tucking into his ear with a "you act smarter than you think you can, okay?" And he doesn't know if it's about Beck or the publicity or just simply wasting money he didn't earn. Part of him should be more humble, he hasn't been in the Capitol since stealing from Temple and Saff to sell to that Poria lady.
Since then, he's just stuck to actually working. Works like a charm, honestly.
"Don't worry ma, you know me!"
"That's what I'm scared of," Saff laughs it off, but he sees the nerves.
Lorenzo hasn't been in the Capitol since Shy killed Piper. There's a lot to assume there, and none of it feels good. He's done his interviews, rented his apartment and brought his own suitcase -- can't this just be another get away? Maybe that's asking a lot of this world, but he packs himself into the elevator some kind of hopeful. There are times where nothing is comforting, being in public is terrible, being alone with Beck is worse right now.
Being alone just sounds miserable.
Especially here, in Panem's most glamorous mausoleum. The bell ticks, from ground floor, to first floor, to second. He remembers how long the descent felt after it all. Lorenzo remembers the lowest floor, how lifeless the vault was and how empty the elevator felt as they all boarded one last time. It was Bette and her partner, Eon and Shy, the twins from three.
Annie wasn't there, just Wander.
He always wondered what that felt like. Lorenzo had Temple in the world's longest elevator ride, silently and loudly as it came, it's something he sees in his nightmares. The way they couldn't look at each other, or touch the walls or buttons. Their first time coming up, he had mashed every button and forced her to talk to him, treat him like he was still alive.
That second time around, he just wanted to go home. He doesn't know how he feels anymore, straightening the cuff of his collar and seeing his face in the steel reflection. When the door opens, he can feel the pressure drop from his coffin, like district four's lobby fills him with a life he hasn't seen in seven years. He's always tried to imagine what the other floors look like, and this whole time he was wrong.
It feels like trespassing, district four's tributes have already been escorted out and the victors going along their own ways.
Annie and Leon could be anywhere, but Enzo knocks on the one locked door. It smells like what he remembers, which could be Beck or Morrison but at least it's not Krigel -- little securities, y'know. Makes it feel a little better as he knocks a second time, holding his breath to himself. Swallowing his own inhales; he's scared, oddly enough. If they know it's him, who would answer?
Does Beck even want to see him again?"uhh, hello?"
He tries to sugar-sweeten the tone, like it's all a joke to him. It feels stupid, I shouldn't be here -- a waste of time as he clenches his fist before considering knocking a third time.
Must be an empty house, most mausoleums are after all.
As edgy as it is, Lorenzo finds it comforting. You can take the ghost from the grave, but you can't keep him from coming back after all.
