Work Text:
They are a strange pair, Techno decides silently.
Well, at least to him they are. He certainly never expected to find a sort of kinship in the man who’d once shaken him so badly, and he’s certain Jaren never expected to find comfort in the Capitol’s golden boy of all people - b ut they both bare a special kind of torture designated only for them. It intertwines the two of them, in a way, and Techno feels glad to have it.
“Just a few more days, hm?” he says as he leans against the back of his chair. Jaren nods absentmindedly, studying the Tributes that are getting some late night training in. He glances at the clock - it’s almost midnight.
Jaren hums from his place beside him. "66, huh?" he says. "Weird to think it'll be 30 years soon."
Techno grimaces. "It's hard for me to process. Having to mentor for that long...it seems like hell," he admits, just because he can, because with Jaren, he doesn't have to worry about keeping up the whole 'golden boy' persona. It's refreshing, in a strange way.
It’s not--they aren't...friends. When the only time they spend together unmonitored by the Capitol is these two weeks training children to die, it's difficult to say that their relationship is a 'friendship'. If he had to put a name to it, he’d say it's more a partnership - a silent understanding, of sorts, that they don't have to pretend around each other.
So...not friendship, no, but maybe something just to the left of it.
"It's hard for me to process sometimes, too," Jaren replies quietly, and he doesn't sound bitter, just...tired. Like his rage has run out of places to grow, and so he's let it drain away instead. "And it is hell.” He grins a little. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sweet Solstices, what a pair of optimists we make, eh?”
Techno snickers, though there's not much humor to it. He’s learned it’s easier to laugh than actually acknowledge the pain of it.
They’re silent for a moment.
“Who’d you think’ll win this year?”
Jaren tilts his head, looking over the children training below them. “It’s hard to say. Lots of good candidates this year.”
They don’t acknowledge the elephant in the room - the fact that Jaren doesn’t immediately say ‘mine’ is enough altogether.
“Of course,” Jaren continues, “I’ll be rooting for mine 100 percent.”
Silence. He doesn’t reply. Jaren sighs heavily.
“I know you don't think me getting invested is smart,” Jaren finally says quietly, and Techno looks away, ashamed at being read so easily, “but...if I know that there's nothing I can do for them, the least I can do is give them one hundred percent of myself, heart and body."
There's a pause as Techno mulls over what he's said, and then--
"Do you remember them all?" he asks quietly, fingers twisting together in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. "Their names, their faces?"
He doesn’t know why he asks it. Maybe he’s getting caught up in thinking about doing this for the rest of his life. Maybe he’s just curious. Who knows? Certainly not him, that’s for sure.
Jaren pauses, like he’s a little caught off-guard, but eventually he drops his head and nods.
"I remember," he rasps quietly in reply, and he sounds like he's holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“I remember,” he says again, and his voice is stronger this time. “every single one of them. I remember their faces, I remember their names, and I will never forget, no matter how much I’d like to.”
Techno takes a deep breath, lungs filled with uncertainty and shards of grief.
“Why?”
Jaren shrugs. His eyes never leave the Tributes, and Techno has the sudden urge to see from his eyes. What does he see down there that Techno can’t? Does he know who has the best chance? Does he know who the Capitol favors?
(Does he know who might break the bonds and win despite that?)
“Because if I don’t remember them, who will?”