strings that snap | larry

two

There are men in crazy colored suit and women in elaborate dresses. Fountains of chocolate and servers carry around platters. He grabs a glass of champagne from one of them, and the couple trudges on.

"Mr. Tomlinson!" There's a man calling out to him, who is surrounded by women. He is obviously so important that Louis should have to walk to him. The yellow light that is shining on this man does nothing for his looks. Eleanor drags him closer, even though he is reluctant. 

It was a Snow of course, he couldn't place the first name. Never could. The man seems to notice.

"It's Chance Snow." Eleanor whispers in his ear. She is sometimes worth her weight in gold. Her socialite status was useful. "He's told you all about his son Cornelius." Maybe she just had an impeccable memory. He mouths a quick thank you to her.

"Mr. Snow!" He says, feigning enthusiasm. "Long time, no see."

"Yes indeed," He says. The man looks quite young. "How've you been, son?" Snow holds out his hand so Louis can shake it.

"I've been great." He grasps Snow's hands firmly and shakes three times. A business handshake, the only kind he gave out. "And you?"

"Better than ever. Have you been following the tour?"

"Yes, the Victor this year is...interesting." Louis has to pause to think of something complimentary. There is nothing interesting about this boy. He was a product of the Capitol, and Louis out of spite thought he was an asshole.

"Well, his words aren't the best." Louis would agree if it wasn't in taste to say something terrible about another Victor in public. "But he is quite handsome."

Louis always found the Capitol's obsession with killers a little sadistic. The people that were paid to touch them had blood on those hands at one point. They were obsessed with people that were untouched by some surgical knife, someone who seemed rustic.

"I saw that he was popular with the ladies." Louis says in agreement. "I saw the District 4 speech today. Little different from the one I listened to yesterday."

"That's good." One of the women takes the empty glass from Snow's hand and goes to fill it again. "Changing it up keeps them interested. Speaking of that, how's five?" When Louis thinks hard, he remembers Snow being quite the political man. Not so frivolous.

"It's doing well." Many people never asked. "Powering the beautiful nation of Panem as always." Louis was a bit of a politician himself or he at least spoke like one.

"His speech could have been worse." Snow likes to jump back and forth. The only issue is that Louis has a hard time following.

"Definitely could of."

"He could've," Snow looks like he's setting himself up for a great punch line. "Been in a back brace." The man bursts out laughing.

Louis is becomes livid. His face is burning red. He can't. He can't, he can't, he can't. "How dare you," He says through his teeth. "Her spine was broken!" His voice is rising to an extreme volume. He wants to reach out and strangle Snow. Eleanor takes a step back, not knowing how to help him.

Porter Millicent Tripp. Eleven years his senior, freckles, hair always pulled back in a tight bun. She never let the Capitol change that. She was a dear friend, broke her spine in the games. Wore a brace through her Victory Tour. She was back in District 5 wearing it right then.

Louis is angry, face red. Sometimes the comments don't bother him. He can keep it under control. Not tonight. "Broken!" He screeches again, hear's a camera snap, falls to his knees.

He hasn't felt this vulnerable in so long. He's blubbering on the floor. "Broken, broken, we're all broken." 

Elenanor, perched on her heels, bends over and lays one of her hands on Louis' back. "Come on dear," She whispers. 

Whoever ran this party had someone on damage control already. Two men pushed their way through the crowds. The smaller of the two was at least polite.

"Excuse us, miss."

They hoist Louis up by his arms and he's thrashing. "Let me go! Leave me alone!"

"Let's show pretty boy what real winners look like, yeah?" The voice was gruff and angry. The voice of a killer.

"Let me go! Please!" Louis is begging. He's fifteen and small and he was not ready to die. The Careers flanked him, holding on tightly to his arms. "I'm begging you."

"Did you think you'd win?" It's the same voice, the voice of the boy from District 2. He doesn't answer the condescending question.

Louis is screaming on the inside. He's a fighter, not much for flight, but he wasn't very good at it. It was him against trained killlers.

"Pretty boy's never win." It's venomous.

All Louis can think about is his impending death and how his trap wouldn't work in time. Time. Timing was such a bitch.

"Please!" Louis is not in his right mind. He's hallucinating. No one at the party would understand, because his hallucinations are from terror. Theirs are induced by drugs. His feet are being dragged across the floor and these men were not letting him go. He hears Eleanor's heels click after them. Click, click, click. Like a clock.

 And timing is such a bitch.

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hey there! thanks for taking the time and reading strings that snap. i'm really loving it because it's not my normal writing style. hope the flashbacks aren't too confusing :) more harry in chapters to come, but this is mostly told from louis' point of view.