ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ

Meet PISTA CLEARMARK (again, but for real this time). Click HERE for his stats, bio, playlist, and other shit. He’s sad, and he’s mad, and he’s good with a wrench. The ultimate momma’s boy for sure, but please do not use this as an excuse to Underestimate. TLDR for his big-ass bio, the biggest of all my bios, under the cut!

He feels bad forcing Pista to say he’s okay with this shit, he really does, but there isn’t really much of a choice at this moment. He’s still got too much to do, too many people to hit from the Districts that Griffin gave him to tell, and he still needs to try for sponsorships, too. As much as he wishes he could guarantee they’ll be able to find each other in time after finishing everything and head there together, he can’t imagine risking Pista’s safety in case something goes wrong with his own shit. That doesn’t make it any less emotional when Pista gives in, and immediately pulls him into a hug as his voice breaks. It makes warm tears start to pool behind his own eyes, his chest feel tight, the threat of all of the emotion he’s been trying to ignore since Griffin dropped so many bombs on him bubbling up. All he can do is hug Pista back tight, nod along with his words.

“I’ll be there, I swear I will, Pista. We’re gonna get out of this hellhole together,” he mutters, letting his eyes close for a second, staying in the hug. He knows that he needs to keep going, that he can’t linger here with Pista for much longer now that he’s passed most everything on, but that doesn’t make the thought of leaving him and not knowing if he makes it or not until much later any easier. He wishes desperately that they could stick together, but he knows he’s making the right choice, knows he’ll be putting Pista in more danger if they do all of it together. When they pull back, it’s clear Pista is just as emotional about having to do this separately, not knowing, too, but he tries to focus for his sake as well. At least he has an answer full of a weird sense of hope. “Thirteen. I don’t know the details, Griff couldn’t tell me much, time is short as fuck, but apparently that’s where the rebels are. There’s some sort of base there, maybe has been since it got destroyed, but that’s where we’re heading. We’re getting out, we’re gonna be safe,” he says emphatically, letting that hope creep into his voice. “We just gotta make sure we all get to the meeting point, then it’s home free.”

• • •  

HC WRAP:

PISTA IS SURPRISED by the revelation about District Thirteen and is unable to process anything else for a moment. Briefly, he lets his mouth run off as he begins to ask DeeZee question after question, which DeeZee, despite his limited knowledge, tries his best to answer, but not too long after, Pista stops himself and the barrage of questions. It’s clear that DeeZee doesn’t know enough, and now isn’t really the time to be discussing this when they could do more of that later on, in safety, once they’re together again in the meeting place. DeeZee’s words do give Pista a bit more hope, the promise of safety and home too good to pass off, even though it’s clear the both of them still have their apprehensions, but for once, he tries to be an optimist and believe that the two of them will be seeing one another again after separating now. They share one big hug, a little longer this time, and clap each other’s backs before parting at last with some firm see you laters.

He gets it, he really does, and in the end there’s no stopping Pista from waiting around to try to look for him, just like there’s no way that Pista is gonna stop him from making sure everyone else he cares about makes it out first, and doing all he needs before even thinking about heading that way himself. But still, he hopes that Pista won’t hang around too long, that even if he does try to look for him, he’ll head there with plenty of time to spare, even if that means not going in with DeeZee. All he can really do is make a noise of skepticism, because there’s a difference between finding Aldera and finding him, and he thinks they both know that. Even without the responsibility that Griff’s given him to take care of, he’s got more people he needs to look out for, more people he needs to make sure get there first than Pista or Aldera, and that’s just a fact. And the possibility of both of them staying out for too long looking for him and then ending up in danger because of it is something he could never forgive himself for. 

“If we had fuckin’ walkie talkies, sure, but I’ve got so many places to hit before I can go, I don’t know how we can plan for it. Just, trust me, okay? Trust me just this once. I wanna get out of this hellhole as much as everyone else, and I’m not planning on doing anything that’s gonna jeopardize my chances of making it. I mean it,” he says, a hint of pleading creeping into his voice now. DeeZee lets out a breath of humorless laughter. “Me? Cause more trouble than I can get out of? Never. But seriously, I’m not gonna play that game today, this is too important. I won’t be a martyr, if you don’t do the same trying to find me, okay? We’ll meet where it’s safe.”

• • •  

PISTA CAN PRACTICALLY hear DeeZee pleading for him to just go along with the plan, and as much as he wants to push back, he’s not about to argue with his best friend right now. This may well be the last they’ll be seeing of each other until much, much later, and he doesn’t want to spend it pushing for something that DeeZee clearly thinks isn’t going to happen. Pista shakes his head, puts both his hands up as if in surrender saying, “Fine. Fine.” When he lowers them, he looks back up at DeeZee, and he finds himself wishing things didn’t have to be so complicated. “Just...” he starts, and his voice breaks before he can continue, and straight away, he pulls DeeZee into a hug, tight and firm and strong.

“Just be there,” he mutters as he squeezes, knowing there’s nothing else to say that could possibly change DeeZee’s mind. “Wherever it is we’re going...” It occurs to him now that he hasn’t even asked DeeZee. If they’re leaving the tower, where in the world are they even going? “...You gotta be there. Okay?” He gives his friend another tight squeeze, for a moment wanting this hug to last longer than he knows it can, before pulling away and heaving a particularly heavy sigh. He shakes his head, gestures vaguely with an arm before deciding to change the topic, quickly before the buildup of what seems to be tears behind his eyes breaks through. “The hell are we going anyway?”

She doesn’t want to be alone anymore. She’s far too terrified of what might happen, and what might take place, to let herself be alone. She’s worried she might be overcome with panic, and if she was alone in that, they certainly something terrible would happen to her. So when Pista offers that they go together and they find DeeZee, there’s a fraction of tension that releases from her shoulders. 

“I like that idea.” She remarks, keeping her head low. If they go together, and they find him, well, that’s just two finds trying to find the third party in their little group. It’s not suspicious, right? 

“We should start looking now, right? Get a head start. He could be a lot of places.”

THERE’S IMMEASURABLE WARMTH and relief that comes with someone agreeing to a suggestion of yours, offering to go with you so the two of you can do the scary thing together. Pista watches now as Aldera keeps her head low, even in her admittance to liking the idea, and he thinks he’s never felt more appreciative of her than in this moment. Pista had been toying around with the idea of looking for DeeZee anyway once all his tasks are through, regardless of whether or not he’d end up running into Aldera, so he’s more than happy to have her here with him now, with the exact same idea.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, he could be anywhere. Best to start looking now,” Pista says, allowing a brief smile to appear for a moment. Then, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, he tilts his head away, toward the direction of the elevators, and begins to walk backward in a slow enough pace so Aldera can catch up. “Come on.”

He watches as Pista takes it in, nods along with his words, although he doesn’t really have a whole lot of hope that they’ll manage to meet up again after they part ways here. It’s not that he doesn’t want to––hell, he wishes to any higher power that might be listening that they didn’t have to do this on their own, that they could do it together, so at least he would know Pista is safe, could guarantee that they both make it out together, because he doesn’t know if he can do any of it without his best friend––but he knows how dangerous sticking together will be through this, and how impossible it’ll be to coordinate enough to meet up again discreetly before going to the spot, when they all have so much to do, and there are a thousand unknown factors. They can’t really afford to focus too hard on the panic that comes with having to split up right now, though, so instead DeeZee focuses on the other part of Pista’s words. “Yeah, Coco’s apart of it, apparently, thank fuck. She’ll help make sure we’re safe, I know she will,” he nods. 

It makes his chest feel tight, the way Pista says it would make him feel better if they could go together, because he feels the same, but he knows how impossible it is. For some reason, it makes his eyes sting, maybe the adrenaline of it all, and the panic of not knowing when he’ll see Pista next after this. He pushes it down by taking a long drag of his cigarette, holding onto Pista’s arm tighter, as it seems Pista also realizes how unlikely that is. “You know I wish it was possible, too… But even if you can’t find me after you’ve tried for sponsorships again, find Aldera, and you two get out of here together. I’ll meet you there, okay?” he says emphatically, looking Pista in the eye, trying to make it clear how real his promise is. “I will, Pista, I promise. I’ll get there. I just gotta take care of some shit first, but I’m gonna be careful. I’m not gonna let you live through the embarrassment of trying to stall a whole ass escape plan by yourself. I’ll be there.”

• • •  

THERE’S SO FEW to truly trust in the Capitol that finally being told one of the people he’d always felt good about actually can be trusted is such a relief to Pista. He wonders if he can find Coco again later, maybe see if he can ask help with sponsorships from her too, but for now, he’s glad that it appears DeeZee had chosen the right Capitolite to befriend all those years ago. All the same, the plan appears not to have changed at all despite his protestations and suggestions: DeeZee wants him to go on ahead, to go directly to the safe place after his business, without sticking around to look or wait for him. Pista still isn’t comfortable with it, and he can already tell that once he finds Aldera, she’ll likely want to find DeeZee too so they can all go together, and maybe any other day, he’d cave and stay true to his word, but right now, he can’t bear the thought of DeeZee possibly staying out just a bit too long and then getting himself into some kind of trouble.

“I... okay. Okay, just...” he starts to say, struggling with his words a little, before he shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. “I mean, if I can fucking find Aldera, then the two of us should probably be able to find you too, right?” he adds, and then looks back up at DeeZee, something clearly pleading about the expression on his face. He’s not an optimist, never has been. His mind will always, always come up with the worst possible outcome when given the chance, and he thinks if he doesn’t keep DeeZee close, something will happen. “Please don’t stay out too long, Deez. I know the old man’s probably given you a lot of responsibility, but that’s no reason to stay out here and wait until it’s too late, is it?” continues Pista. “Don’t be a fucking martyr and don’t cause too much trouble than you’re capable of getting out of.”

She knows that Tilsee has a much better chance than Birch, who is still all alone. If the rebels are coming to get them, surely they wont have the time to sweep the entire arena looking for lost tributes in hopes to scoop them up. She’s not optimistic, even if she has to try to be.

So she holds onto what Pista said first, the idea of them all going together. She’s ripe with stress and anxiety over this whole thing. She thinks that it’ll give her some type of comfort to all go together. But she has a feeling DeeZee would be the hardest to convince out of all of them.

“We should go all together. It’s probably not smart but going alone seems far more terrifying.” If they get lost, or they get captured, at least they’d do it together.

She leans forward where she is, taking hold of Pista’s hand to give it a squeeze. “I know I’m not a very optimistic person, but I’m trying to be right now. Things are changing.”

THE FACT THAT Aldera says nothing more about Birch tells Pista all he needs to know about exactly how she feels regarding his situation. She’s not confident at all, not optimistic about his chances, and Pista wishes he could help her, wishes he could do something for them too, but he doubts trying would amount to anything, considering how badly he’d done attempting to get help for his own mother. How much less open would those sponsors be if he came to them with requests to help someone he isn’t related to and has little to no personal connection with at all? He could try with Coco too, considering what DeeZee had said about her, but he knows she’s likely stretched thin now as well, with everything going on and DeeZee likely trying with her for his own sponsorship attempts too.

So he says nothing and simply nods, focusing on what Aldera herself had chosen to respond to, about all of them going together. He’s glad to hear her agree, glad to hear that she’s of the same mind with him about this. She recognizes the risks, knows being in a larger group ( and one with DeeZee, of all people ) might raise the likelihood of them getting caught along the way, and so does Pista, but the fear of being separated and the assurance of being together in this terrifying time is something the both of them clearly understand well. He knows that, now more than ever as she takes his hand and squeezes it.

Pista takes it about how DeeZee had, hell, how DeeZee still is processing it, except the need to tell everyone as quickly as possible has negated some of his shock for the moment, no time to fully process before it’s too late. So he just lets Pista go through it, curse as it all seems to hit him, the disbelief and surprise, along with the dawning realization of what it means not just for them, but for those in the Arena, for his mom. It’s hard to think of that word right now, because so far DeeZee’s done a good job of focusing on what Griffin told him to do, not doing anything reckless, but if he lets himself stop and think, if he considers Tilsee and what this means for Pista’s family, it makes him think of what it’ll mean for his family, too. They might not be in the Arena, but he’s pretty fucking sure the Capitol isn’t going to let them rest if he does manage to get out, if not live, and he already knows there’s no way they’ll make it out of Ten. He squashes those thoughts for now though like a particularly rancid bug, and takes a long hit of his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s fucked up, but you get why we won’t be able to see the end; we’ve gotta be there to get them out,” he says, repeating what Griffin had told him when his own panic had risen about that part of things. It’s not a real consolation, though, the unknown terrifying when it comes to those they love. DeeZee pockets his lighter, and reaches out to put his hand on Pista’s shoulder, hoping it’ll help both of them stay grounded in the overload of information, the panic of the unknown, and danger of it all. “You don’t need to tell anyone else but Harquin; I’ve got Aldera next, then I’m gonna find Bandi and Coco, but Griff says Coco at least already knows. He’s telling Twelve, and the robot is taking care of the others. You focus on trying to get Tilsee any last minute sponsorships and then getting out through the back way as soon as you can. I’ll give you hell myself if you’re not there at the meeting point by the time I make it. Don’t make me have to do anything stupid when I’ve been expressly told not to.”

• • •  

IT’S A LOT to take in, and Pista’s normally already cluttered mind just feels even more messy now with the addition of all this new, and frankly terrifying information. It’s wild, considering how much hope there is to be found in this if it all succeeds, but it’s so scary how easily things could go wrong too. A single slip-up, one tiny misstep, someone stays out too late or is, god forbid, taken even before they can make it to the safe place and... Pista shakes his head, and immediately starts to speak out loud as if to talk over his own thoughts. “Okay... Okay, I’ll tell Harquin,” he says, practically pants out, every single part of him somehow feeling simultaneously frozen and yet also panicked, with all this energy and franticness that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. “Maybe I can find you again, tell Bandi with you, and...” He’d heard it a moment back, but it only hits him now, and he interrupts his own words. “Shit, man, Coco, though... Damn...” Too much to take in all at once, and he tries to force himself to calm down.

For the most part, it works, and he’s able to tell DeeZee what he knows he has to tell him before they part ways and do what it is they’ve got to. “Look, I... It would make me feel so much better if we could go there together. Maybe you, me, and Aldera could meet up again if we haven’t gone yet, and...” It hits him, of course, how improbable that sounds, considering they could all be anywhere in the tower at any given point, and there’s no real direct way to communicate. Just people fumbling about, trying to discreetly find one another in this fucking tower so they can all head to safety. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, shutting his eyes, before putting a hand out between them. “Just. You have to get there. Okay? Before us, after us, at the same time... You gotta be there. I’ll fucking... stall the escape if you’re not there yet.”

She figures that Pista hadn’t known. She doesn’t believe she would have been left in the dark if either DeeZee or Pista knew, considering how fast DeeZee told her when he came to find out. But she couldn’t help the question that spilled from her lips. Only after he answers does she force herself to reel in, in case of saying something else out of place.

“No, no.” She swallows hard, shaking her head. “Riggs already knows and it’s just us now. I don’t —,” She flattens her lips into a thin line. “I don’t have anyone else apart from you guys.” A tragic reality she’s not facing, but perhaps it’s good in this moment, only being attached to a few so as not to make things more complicated. Her fingers ring together and she lets out a long breath. “Your mom’s gonna get out though. That’s what this means, right?”

ALDERA’S WORDS RING so clearly and so true in Pista’s mind because he himself doesn’t have very many left either. And for a moment there, he wants to pull her in and hug her, show her that it doesn’t matter how few there are left when they all clearly care about each other very deeply, but in the end, he holds back instead, knowing there’s so much more they need to talk about first, to make sure of. With DeeZee having told him, and Aldera and Bandi already knowing, Harquin on her way or likely already there in the safe room, and his mother still in the Arena with her allies, Pista doesn’t have anyone else left either. In a way, he’s thankful for that. Less to think about, less to get himself twisted into knots worrying over.

It’s not the nicest way he’s ever greeted Pista, and it’s clear that his friend is in one of his moments, those times where he just kind of drifts off into his own thoughts, his own little world of worry. If there were time, he would try to ground him in a different, gentler way, but six hours is already closer to five considering the time it probably took for Griffin to get to him in the first place navigating the mess that is the tower, and they’ve gotta make due with what they have. The good news is that Pista doesn’t put up a fight, not that he thought he would, not that he ever has when DeeZee’s physically pulled him along somewhere in his chaotic moments, and as soon as he’s up, Pista seems to come back down to earth saying he’s ready for whatever it is he needs to tell him. That makes DeeZee let out a loud bark of humorless laughter, imagining Pista might not feel the same once he hears what it is, but at least they’re on their way. “Yeah, we’ll talk to her next, and you can get her later, it’s fine,” he says, waving his free hand vaguely at Harquin as he pulls Pista past her and out of Six.

He stays silent on the ride up to the rooftop, but he doesn’t let go of Pista’s arm, and maybe it’s partially the need for some physical anchor of his own to keep him from losing his shit, or doing something stupid, but he thinks Pista will understand. Once they make it there, he pulls him over to the spot next to the loudest wind chimes he’s found yet, and finally lets go, in favor of pulling a cigarette and his lighter out of his pocket. “The proverbial them finally got off their asses and put a plan in motion; guess they were working on it all along. We’re getting the fuck out of here, Pista. We have less than six hours, before we go and pick up the ones in the Arena, if they manage their part, too. We need to meet up here, there are two ways there,” he says, holding out his hand for Pista to see the map Griff drew there, sweaty as his palm is, as he lights the cigarette with his metal hand. “I know it’s a lot. I’m still fucking reeling, too, it’s hard to believe it’s actually going to happen.” 

• • •  

THE ELEVATOR RIDE is silent, and for a moment there, Pista has half a mind to ask if he can get any clues in now, but he doesn’t. The entire time, DeeZee keeps his hand on Pista’s arm, holding tight as though worried his friend might be dragged off somewhere if he doesn’t keep him in place. Or if not that, then it could be as if he’s holding onto him for support — could be that it’s DeeZee who needs the contact now, for whatever reason. In some way, that’s what helps ground Pista, gets him to keep his mouth shut, despite the burgeoning curiosity and dread that grows the longer the silence stretches. It feels almost like he’s holding onto a breath he doesn’t dare let go of, and it’s only once they arrive at the roof deck at last, right next to a particularly noisy wind chime, that he’s able to. The news practically knocks the breath out of him.

@ovcrlookcd​​

Her hands hadn’t actually stopped shaking. She didn’t think this was something that was possible, or was even happening. Sure, she knew the rebels were around, but they really had a whole escape plan? Aldera could barely keep her thoughts in order. She was stumbling around, trying to find Pista, and once she did, she grabbed him by the wrist and began to drag him somewhere that they could talk.

“Did you know?” She begins to whisper once they’re in the suspected clear. “This is crazy, right? This is absolutely insane. Is it possible?”

EVEN AS HE’S dragged, Pista follows and keeps his mouth shut, knowing what this is going to be about. He only deigns to reply once she starts talking, the two of them in the clear for now. “No,” he says, voice lowered in a whisper even as his face shows clear panic and incredulity. “No, I only just found out. I didn’t know this was going on at all.” He doubts DeeZee did too, remembering how frantic the energy was when he was explaining to him on the roof deck.

after griffin’s filled him in on things, six’s suite ( @ovcrlookcd​ )

Griffin’s sudden revelation and information dump gives a shot of adrenaline he honestly fucking needed, given everything. It’s been impossible not to feel defeated, with both of his own tributes dead, after the pitiful attempts he’d made for Tilsee’s sponsorship, what he’d had to do to get crumbs thrown at her, then seeing the aftermath of Gage’s fight, the man dead, never going to see his wife again, never going to meet his child, and having all but killed one of the rebels in the arena. It hadn’t made him feel any different, seeing them all coming together, the hope they had at some wild plan he didn’t understand, because he knows the Capitol, knows they’ll do their best to fuck them all over before they get that far if they’re not going to kill each other. But this? This is hope. Six hours is a long fucking time in respect to how much can go wrong, but he’s more than ready to do what Griffin asked, spread the word, and try to set up the tributes still alive as best they can.

He’s ready to make sure the people who deserve to get out do.

His first thought is Pista, of course. He doesn’t know where Bandi is, even less idea of where Coco might be, both of whom he also needs to find, but it feels like simplest first is best here, when everything suddenly feels fucking frantic. DeeZee practically kicks in Six’s door, forcing himself in, ignoring everyone else to find his best friend in his room. He doesn’t even knock, letting himself in there, too, where he finds Pista sitting on his bed. “Pista, hey, we need to talk, bud, there’s a lot of shit going on, and not a lot of time to deal with it. Let’s go to the roof, I need a smoke while we do this,” he says all at once, going over to the other and pulling him up by the arm, ready to get up there as fast as they can to talk in relative privacy. There’s a thought that it would be more efficient to do this with multiple people at once, but he’s never been good at thinking ahead. “You know where Aldera is? You know what, never mind, I’ll find her next, no time now. Come on.”

• • •

THE PAST DAYS have been a blur for Pista, of swimming in and out of proper consciousness. He’s certain he’s eaten, showered, and taken care of himself in some capacity every day, but his mind has been so focused on little more than what was going on in the Arena that he barely even remembers. Sometimes, Harquin is beside him, sitting fearfully, quietly watching the screen, and sometimes, he holds her hand, tries to reassure her without words. There’d been a palpable relief when Tilsee and Darby ( and, of course, Cabil ) finally made it to the larger group, with Zero and Holly and poor Chrysanthe seeming to be at the center of it all, but with it came an even larger sense of what now. It’s clear none of these people want to harm one another, and from the way the boy genius from Three talks, there’s obviously an even bigger plan in place, but none of his friends here in the Tower seem to know anything about it either.

It’s while he’s trapped in these very same thoughts that he hears another voice behind him, breaking through the silence of his room, and being so out of it, he doesn’t recognize who it is right away until he turns around to see. “DeeZee — I...” He shakes his head, trying to pull himself back into reality as DeeZee tugs him up by the arm. He feels like he’s been moving so slowly, and DeeZee’s here, frantic as he’s ever seen him, obviously in some kind of hurry, but the sudden pulling upwards seems to shake him out of his languid revery. “Yeah, anything. Anything you need to tell me, wherever.” There’s mention of Aldera, but DeeZee backtracks, and Pista agrees as he follows DeeZee out of there, “We can always just go to her after.” The two of them pass by Harquin, whom Pista gives a quick signal that he’ll be back, quelling the look of worry that had bloomed on her face. In no time at all, the two are out of Six’s common area, and briskly walking to the elevator.

There’s not a whole lot of good to hang onto right now, but he has to hang onto it being a good thing that they’re both here now, that he was around when Pista was close to breaking down, and that they can have moments like this in the midst of so much chaos, even if there’s nothing to do at the moment to actually fix any of the things that are making him break down in the first place. They’ve both got too much shit to be thinking of, and the Capitol’s made damn sure that they’ve both got targets on their back’s as people not to trust if you’re on the Capitol’s side of things. But he still wishes that there was more that he could do for his friend in this moment besides just being here with him and listening, giving him that little bit of support, those little reminders that at least he doesn’t have to face it all alone. It’s not fair that there’s so much to deal with, and the shit just keeps falling around them, not a minute for any of them to breath, trading off on trying to keep each other from falling into hopelessness. 

“Well, it’s just what we do, isn’t it? You do it for me, I do it for you. It’s important to me, too,” he says with a nod, as if that’s that. DeeZee isn’t great at talking emotions that aren’t anger, after all, but it’s the truth. Pista’s done the same for him a hundred times over, not just this year, but every year. Of course, he’ll do the same, too, even when he’s a mess himself. Pista looks up at the screen, clearly trying to distract himself from falling back in the pit of despair, and DeeZee does the same. The camera cuts away from the kid from Three and his little ragtag group, to Tilsee and Darby, and DeeZee immediately puts his hand on Pista’s arm, giving a little squeeze, watching silently, waiting with bated breath to see what’s going on with them. And it seems like things are good, or, well, as good as anything can be in the Games when you’ve got an injured leg and no sponsorships yet. But it’s clear that Darby is strong as Tilsee is, and their friendship is something that makes DeeZee feel a little less like shit, seeing the way they talk. “I’m glad they’re together,” he says, keeping his voice quiet, not wanting to talk over their conversation, knowing how important it is that Pista get to hear this, see this moment with his mom. 

• • •

THE CONVERSATION PLAYS out in front of them both, and Pista watches with wide eyes, the world around him completely blurred and blocked out in that moment as he stares at the screen, at what’s going on inside of it. His mom and Darby are still together, both on the shore, Tilsee clearly hurt, Darby unable to provide more than the help she’s already given, and they’re talking. DeeZee is whispering something beside him, but he can’t quite make out what it is exactly, not right now when his attention is fully on what’s going on, fully on Darby and his mom. The conversation between both women is quick, snappy, and a little bittersweet. It picks at a spot inside Pista’s chest that makes it tighten and hurt, but then Darby keeps going, and when Pista hears those determined words of hers, they stay with him even until after the cameras cut away.

Pista is speechless for almost the entire scene afterward. He’s been so used to trusting no one around him but his closest friends, so used to being used, and so used to unkindness from others, that Darby’s openness and hope catches him almost entirely off his guard. How can someone who barely even knows him be able to say that about him? He knows they’re friends, of course, Darby and his mother, but there’s a certain kind of surprise to hear things like that being said about him. She’d protect him, just like she’d sworn to protect any child that comes her way, and to protect him, she would protect his mother. On her watch, Tilsee wasn’t going to be taken away before her time. And those words alone are enough to melt away some of the fear and the worry Pista’s been stuck in during these past minutes since the disastrous attempts at garnering sympathy and gaining sponsorships, enough to get him to sit back and breathe a little easier. Even as the cameras move to other Tributes, Pista still finds his mind fixating on it, Darby’s voice, coupled with her determined expression, replaying in his head over and over.

And when he turns to look at DeeZee again, tears have welled up in his eyes, but this time around, there’s the smallest look of hope, the smallest look of belief, of faith in the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things can still be alright after all.

He’s never been good at this sort of thing, and he’s self aware enough to know that even if he’s been doing more and more of it lately to try to keep everyone else around him from falling into the pit it feels like he’s already hanging on the edge of himself, he’s not gonna get any better at it any time soon. His thing has always been action, after all. It’s how he survived his Games, even after his cousin’s death, and it’s how he’s made it this far after them, in his own way. Being helpless isn’t something he’s good at feeling, and being helpless while also trying to help the people you care about feels even worse than feeling helpless about his own shit somehow. It’s a desperate sort of ache in his chest, wishing he could do something to help Pista in any small way. Over and over he just comes back to how fucked up the only possible way to do that in any concrete form right now is to pimp himself out to try to get any sort of sponsorship help for Tilsee, while also still having to worry about Bire, whatever the fuck he’s doing.

It seems like just being here with him is doing a little bit of good, though, giving him that permission to feel the shitty feelings and let some of it out into the air after trying and failing to do what feels like the only actionable thing to help his own mother. Nothing can change any of it, and the situation is still the same, but what matters is Pista being able to keep pushing through despite it all. When he does finally look up from his moment of crying, he looks a mess, understandably, and DeeZee thinks the right plan is probably to head back to Ten as soon as Pista’s ready, and spend the rest of the evening just getting by, but at least in some kind of privacy. He gives him a little pat on the shoulder, though, and thanks him for being here, and it sends another wave of emotion through him, one that easily moves towards anger for how messed up it is that they’re here, that there’s no help, nothing to do, but this has to be enough for right now. “You don’t need to thank me, just glad I was around…Wish there was more that I could do, though. But I’ll get back in there and do what I can soon, I promise,” DeeZee nods.

• • •

PISTA KNOWS BY now that when DeeZee says he wishes he could do more, he means it — really means it. He would wager that his friend is beating himself up right now for not being able to do something more concrete to help, and Pista wishes he could calm those emotions too, but he understands DeeZee as well, understands why he would think that. It brings about a brief stab of guilt, knowing Pista shouldn’t have put so much of his grief and pain on him anyway when he’s already going through so much, but he knows he wouldn’t have made it either had he pushed and kept it all inside. It’s so difficult now; you want to depend on one another, need to depend on one another, but everyone’s going through the same hurt and fear too. Whereas Aldera would’ve normally been able to use reason with Pista, he’s hesitant to even approach her now, when it’s clear how much fear Birch’s situation is putting on her. And DeeZee... well, he wishes he didn’t have to dump any of this on DeeZee, but there’s little to no one else left.

“I know, but this is a lot. You being here, despite your own problems...” Pista starts, wanting to reassure DeeZee as much as he’s able. “...It’s important to me.” He gives DeeZee’s shoulder another squeeze, eyes looking into his as he tries to communicate to him, without words now, how much he means that, and how grateful he is that DeeZee is here. He gives him a gentle clap on the back before letting go and sighing, head turning to absentmindedly watch what’s on screen. Better to distract himself with something now before the emotions lurch forward again, he thinks, and it’s fine, it’s doable, seeing this group on the screen now. Though some of the names escape him, he knows where these Tributes come from, and while he can’t quite follow what they’re saying, it seems they’re attempting to properly figure out what kind of Arena they’re in. The camera cuts all too quickly, though, and the next thing Pista sees are Darby and his mom, and immediately, he freezes.

There’s nothing to do, but sit next to him and just be here, to make sure he knows that he’s not going anywhere. Words are useless as hell right now, so he doesn’t bother trying to figure out the right thing to say when there’s nothing he can say to make any of it hurt any less or feel any less hopeless. He just has to hope that maybe being beside Pista might help him find the strength to keep going. It’s a terrifying thought, though, because if Pista breaks down far enough that he can’t pull him out of it, DeeZee knows he won’t be far behind, when he’s already on the verge himself, from seeing Ginger’s death, seeing the way Bire had left her behind, and then disappeared into thin fucking air, not following through on any of the advice he’d given or alliances he had tried to set up to bring Archer his kids back in the end. It all feels fucking hopeless, and it’s hard not to let that overwhelm him sitting next to his best friend, as he sobs into his hands, his body shaking with the weight of it all. 

DeeZee tries to focus on Pista, though, knowing it’s no help to think of his own shit right now when his best friend is so close to the edge, so close to giving up completely, thinking it’s pointless to try. “I know,” is all DeeZee says, voice quiet, barely more than a whisper, softer than it ever really gets. “I know. I’m sorry.” It’s a worthless apology when neither of them have control of anything, but he is fucking sorry, because Pista doesn’t deserve to feel any of this. He wishes that he could take his pain, and his hopelessness and shoulder it himself. But all he can really do is keep rubbing gentle circles over his shoulders as he cries quietly, as he sits in the pain that’s too much for all of them to handle. It’s as much as he can do to push away his own feelings begging him to let his anger and pain out, too, knowing that won’t help either of them right now, knowing his is always too destructive.

• • •

DEEZEE’S VOICE IS quiet when he speaks again, like he’s whispering to Pista, as if afraid of breaking the silence he’d decided to settle into for the moment. To cope with the intensity of his emotions, Pista doesn’t answer back, and simply lets the feeling take him, lifting his chest, and then dropping it down himself in quiet little sobs, ones that shake his entire body as he lets them go. DeeZee’s hand is still on his back, rubbing his shoulders, motions gentle, and Pista focuses on that too, on the warmth and comfort it gives. Knowing someone is there, even when there’s no advice to give, even when everything else around them stays shitty, is consoling. And he lets that mix into the smorgasbord of emotion, lets warmth and light find its way in. The sadness and desperation are stubborn, but DeeZee gives him the time and the space, and after a while, Pista is able to ride out the worst of the waves, and he feels himself begin to calm, little by little. The pain doesn’t fully subside, maybe it never will, but crying it out had been cathartic, even when no problems had been solved.

Pista swallows, wipes the tears on his face with the base of his palm, and he tries for a few exhales. The blurriness of his vision fades as the tears go, and his eyes feel a little sore, his face a bit malleable, the back of his throat still rather thick, but he feels better. Another moment of silence passes as he regulates his breathing. In the background, he thinks he can hear some of the Tributes talking on screen, but he tunes that out for now, knowing it isn’t his mother’s or Darby’s voices. Instead, he turns his head slightly, giving DeeZee a sideways glance. He can’t even smile; he feels too weak. But there’s genuine gratitude in his voice, quiet as it is, when he says, “Thanks again, Deez.” He reaches out to gently pat his shoulder. “For just... for just being there. At the right time. I’m... I’m feeling a little better now.”

At least they make it to a quiet spot, even if it’s impossible to escape the screens, impossible to have any real privacy, at least they get to a place where Pista can sit down, and DeeZee can sit next to him, put a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles there, trying to ease some of the anxiety that he knows is pretty impossible to deal with right now. His fucking heart aches hearing Pista talking like this, his voice so distant and overwhelmed, clearly on the verge of an all out breakdown, and he wouldn’t fucking blame him one bit for going off entirely and losing it just now, given how things are going. That’s the issue, really, because Pista says he feels like he’s gonna explode, and so does DeeZee, even if it’s in a different way. And it’s fucking hard to stop someone else from exploding when you feel like you’re seconds from it yourself. It always grounds him, having a friend to focus on, someone else to help through instead of thinking of his own shit, but it’s hard when they’re all in this situation, when it feels just as hopeless for him, for the people he cares about and is in charge of looking after. 

It’s so messed up that they’re all in this position, none of them should have to deal with it, none of them should be expected to just keep going when it feels like this, when it feels like nothing’s working and it all feels like a failure. And yet, they have to keep going anyway, they have to keep pushing on the slim chance that something can change, that they can get the people they care about out of there safely. “I know, I know, buddy,” he says, shaking his head, wishing desperately there was something better he could say or do to help him. “I feel it, too. We shouldn’t have to feel like this, and it’s fucked that we gotta keep pushing through, but we gotta, okay? Just…don’t give up, okay? Please, for me, and for Tilsee, and for yourself, we can’t give up, even though it feels fucking impossible.”

• • •

PISTA WISHES IT were easier to calm himself down from emotions this intense. He wishes that all it took were a few deep breaths, counting from 1 to whatever, to make him okay. He wishes he didn’t have to go through all these stages first, with the shallow breathing, and the pain in his chest, and the irritating, useless questions in his head, the doubt, the self-loathing. And he wishes he didn’t need to have someone else there beside him, to guide him through it, reach in and pull him back out. It’s not fair when DeeZee’s already got so much on his shoulders too, and Pista shouldn’t have to add to that. If he was just any better at this, then maybe he could’ve solved it all on his own, and DeeZee wouldn’t have had to set precious time away from trying to gather sponsorships for his own Tribute just to help Pista out of this meltdown. But there’s no use in dwelling on what is and isn’t fair either, is there? If he really wants to stop inconveniencing DeeZee, he needs to get himself out of this.

Eyes screwed shut, Pista doesn’t answer for a moment and lets the feeling rise and crest over him like a wave, allowing it to regulate it, so it doesn’t come crashing in with abandon. He feels it swell inside his chest, and he chokes out a sob. It isn’t long before the tears come out too, and as terrible as it feels to be doing this, to be lumping this all on DeeZee, he lets it happen, knowing holding it in now would, without a doubt, make it worse for them all later on. He swallows, lets the emotion run through his body, his shoulders trembling, chest heaving. Pista doesn’t dare be loud about it, doesn’t cry out or lose himself, but he does let it flow through him, allowing it to take hold but still forcing himself to stay grounded. He doesn’t look at DeeZee, doesn’t say a word, and just struggles through quiet tears for a moment.

It’s hard seeing someone he cares about breaking down like this, and knowing that there’s really not much he can do about it, in the end. He can give all the reassurances he can come up with, promise that he’ll try to find sponsorships to help Tilsee, too, but none of it changes the circumstances they’ve been thrown into and how fucked up they all are. All in all, it makes him even more pissed off, but focusing on Pista keeps the rage from bubbling over into something destructive right now. He’s got a job to do, he needs to be a good friend, and Pista deserves all the support he can offer, even if they can’t change how things are going right now. At the very least they’re together, and that’s gotta count for something in a world where the fuckers with power keep trying to tear them all apart. So he just stays there, hand on his back, waiting to see if any of it cuts through the panic, the near breakdown, wishing desperately the fucking rebels, whoever they are, wherever they are, would show their asses now and get them all out of this hellhole, before they have to go through more pain.

Luckily, after a second Pista nods along with the suggestion to go somewhere else, and find a seat, and that’s all he needs to start leading him off away from the door, and the sponsors behind it. Pista’s hand moves to his shoulder, gripping hard, and he takes it gladly, putting an arm around him to help lead him away, keep him upright. First instinct is to head up to Ten’s suite, but that’s too far, and he’s not sure that Pista’s gonna make it that long before breaking down entirely, so he settles for finding the first deserted sitting area he can, a place away from the food and the bars, less people around, although nowhere is completely private of fucking course. “Of course, you don’t. Fuck these people, fuck every last one of them, it’s okay, we’ll get away from them, just hold onto me, buddy,” he says, leading him along. When they finally make it to a quiet enough place to sit, he all but forces Pista down onto the first couch they get to, and sits beside him. Hard to ignore the screens playing the Games around them, but he focuses for now. “I know how fucked it all feels right now, but we’ve gotta keep fighting, right? We have to do it for them. They know we’re doing it for them.”

• • •

HE HOLDS ONTO the warmth and reassurance in DeeZee’s voice as desperately as he holds on to his shoulder, all the while willing himself to take deep, calming breaths. Pista knows it won’t help anyone if he breaks down or allows himself to succumb to an attack, knows it won’t do anything for his mom in the arena, or for any sponsors nearby — and he knows it’ll only inconvenience DeeZee, who’s clearly weathering through issues of his own. In fact, they’re all weathering issues of their own, every single one of them here in the Victor pool, some Escorts and Stylists included, and Pista isn’t any more special than anyone else. He doesn’t know how much thinking like this about his situation is helping him, when it’s only making him loathe himself even more, but he doesn’t know what else to do, barring shutting his brain down completely and letting himself fall into that pit of despair.

Somehow, the two of them make it someplace else with less people around, away from the hustle and bustle of the sponsors room, away from the Victors with higher and better chances. There are screens nearby, still, and he can hear Caesar talking commentary with Claudius and that Stylist, but there’s no escaping those. This is as good as it gets. “Thanks,” Pista breathes out after DeeZee talks, trying his hardest to reassure him, and Pista nods again and again, as if to convince himself of his friend’s words. DeeZee’s right. They have to keep fighting. They have to do it for them. They know they’re doing it for them. But god, god, does failure of this caliber hurt so goddamn much. “Thanks, DeeZee. Thanks.” He says over and over, body hunched forward and bent over, even as he’s seated, and he drops his head in his hands, shuddering all over. Is it worth it to just cry out for a second? Even if it helped no one? Even if it would only end up making things harder to deal with for DeeZee? When he opens his mouth to speak again, it barely sounds like him. “I feel like I’m going to explode, Deez. I... I don’t know.”