TW: suicidal thoughts
Lauren's P.O.V
When my eyes open, the first thought in my head involves the events of last evening. The unexpected dinner conversation comes second. Your daughters brother hiding a relationship from everybody for seven years is memorable enough on its own- his fiancé having twenty dead children because none of them got medical care before or after their birth- now that's fucked.
I understand both sides. Fear isn't something that just disappears because you're a king- protectiveness over your sister doesn't either. I would know. At the same time, I'll never get why he's chosen not to mention it to anybody for seven years. Oh well- I don't have to understand. Mina's understandably pissed- maybe I would be too if I was looking at it from her perspective.
"Hey sis, I've been dating somebody for seven years and now we're engaged! Surprise!" Okay yeah- I'd be pissed.
I sit up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. Kyle stirs, turning over on his side. His lips are slightly parted, and the eyelashes closest to his nose touch his cheekbones. He looks so much younger in his sleep- when there are no signs of the past decade on his face. I smile. Twenty years ago, if you'd said we would live in the White House one day, I'd shrug and say maybe. Ten years ago, if you'd said we'd be visiting our daughter's gay brother whose the king of a country that's been notoriously homophobic the past 100 years, I'd look at you like you had two heads. Five years ago- if you told me I'd be a Vice Presidential candidate, I would've tilted my head.
Life has a funny way of leading you places you never expected. I stand up, unable to sleep. I check my phone, and it's three in the morning. Insomnia's a bitch.
I still haven't seen most of the castle. Maybe a walk would help me sleep. I look down at my oversized shirt and sweatpants, and shrug. I silently close the room's door until it clicks in place, and stop for a second to look around the hallway. Night-Shift secret service and palace guards line it. Paintings by former slaves line the walls. Joseph told me once that since a few of the plants native to Ordaia have insanely naturally concentrated dyes, a single drop of the juice or a tiny piece of a petal could could make almost a gallon of paint. They hide this fact from their trade partners so nobody gets any ideas about stealing a large quantity for profit- because the catch is- the four or five plants capable of doing this are still extremely rare, so Ordaians like to keep it to themselves and make large quantities for the artists whenever a small patch pops up.
The colors are all vivid, too. I walk out into the main hallway that leads to the ballroom. In it, the nicest seating areas of the entire castle line the walls. On one, Ella sits, reading something- and I realize I've never seen her without makeup or out of uniform. She looks...normal? I realize that I don't know very much about her- even though she's been working for us for seven years. She's given a non answer or a broad one anytime I ask her anything specific about her past. Like every secret service agent, she receives lie detector tests and background checks every other week now. The newer, improved lie detector tests are literally impossible to lie on, so I'm not even remotely worried that she might be hiding something important, but she does seem like she doesn't want to talk about her past.
"Hey-" I say, and she jumps, not expecting that anybody would be in here this time of night. "Can't sleep either?"
She shakes her head. "No- I can only sleep in my bed and I forgot my pillow."
"You're here for two more days. Ya gotta at least try." I plop down on the couch beside her.
"I did try-" she replies. "What are you doing up?"
"Insomnia."
She raises an eyebrow as if to say "same." My eyes fall over a portrait of Joseph he had painted. He apparently asked the artist to leave his scars in, from the looks of it. Looking at it, it serves as a factual reminder of just how disgusting his father was. His own son. He has his own son tortured. That- I'll never forget. The amount of guts Joseph had to stand in front of reporters and allow them to take pictures at his first press conference is.. wow. Just wow. He did it so the world could see just how fucked up his dad truly was. The world had an idea before- but didn't know the true extent. That- and he also just wanted to shut Meg Haines up. I'm honestly surprised that bitch hasn't followed us here.
I have to admire her work in a field that was predominantly male until about forty years ago. She worked her ass of to get where she is today, which I can respect- but she's also overstepped boundaries plenty of times for a story. The whole breaking into Kyle's old house thing sticks out in my mind, even though that story is as good as dead now, with the amount of money we paid her. It better be. She's a strong ass woman- that's for sure. As the top rating reporter in the world, she's done extremely well financially- and I can also admire that she donates fifty to sixty percent of her income every year. She's equally bitchy to everybody, but there's one thing I'll never be able to get over.
She developed a relationship with the French president last year, had him wrapped around her finger and everything. He was really in love with her.
But of course, she was just using him for insider information. As soon as she got what she wanted out of him, she left and spilled all of his secrets on national television. He wasn't okay for weeks after that. He tried to kill himself, for fucks sake- and the French version of the 25th amendment was invoked. He did end up finding somebody he could trust a few months later- and slowly, he let his guard down again.
Similar to Kyle and I- or to Joseph and Ali.
—-Joseph's P.O.V, 6 years ago—
I stand in front of the glass shower wall now, looking at my expression. "Am I really going to do this?" I think to myself. We haven't officially been together for very long- only eleven months, as of yesterday. We fooled around a bit in that month between the first time he kissed me and me asking him out, but I was just so busy with the whole jumpstart going a democracy thing- and still am most days. I've learned now, though - how to better balance my relationship with him and the being the youngest world leader in recent history thing.
Part of it is just accepting that I'll only see him an hour or maybe two on a good day- excluding when we're both sleeping. He also still has seven children, the youngest being just four months old- whose mother died, so it's safe to say he doesn't get much sleep at all nowadays. Today is special though. The other six'll be with their mothers all day, and one of the attendees is watching the baby. I want this to be memorable- so that every time he looks back on today, he remembers just how much I love him.
He hasn't been shown nearly enough in his life how much he matters. He's been depressed most of his life- even suicidal at some points when he couldn't see a way out. It almost makes me suicidal that there was absolutely nothing I could've done to help his situation until just eleven months months ago. Of course- as soon as I got the chance, I did. Now- as far as the world knows, slavery is officially a thing of the past. There's still a chance that some countries are hiding it- but god I hope not. It's 2024- we can't still be stuck in the 1800s.
My hands are shaking. The small, red box in it contains the object that I'll give to him in just a few hours. It's the nicest, most expensive- and only ring I've ever bought. It rests on a chain so he can keep it close to his heart- I still fear for his safety if he were to wear it on his finger. The country as a whole has progressed at an insane rate- yet there are still some extremist lingering behind that followed my fathers words closely. An attempt has not been made on my life- but I can feel it coming. I don't know when- I don't know how, so for now- my security is taking extreme precautions to make sure I don't - ya know, die.
I take a deep breath, walking out into our bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, waiting on me. I give him a light kiss, and he looks up at me in a way that makes my heart jump out of my chest every time. I've never been able to calm my heartbeat down around him, because I think it just knows. We were meant to be together. He may be seven years older than I am, but our brains work almost exactly the same. We never fight- and when we do, it's over something small that we forget about in minutes.
Life is too short to stay mad at the person you're in love with, after all. "Come on." I take his hand, intertwining his fingers in mine. I nervously pull them away in the hallway- still terrified that there's an extremist among my staff, but he quickly grabs it back. I look up and he shakes his head.
"I love you- okay? I don't care if I die because of it." He says, a hand cupping my face.
"I do. You have children and I love you too."
"Children whose mothers all have paying jobs now. I'm tired of hiding." He rubs my hand with his thumb.
I give in and let him hold my hand as we walk. I lead him out to the garden. There's a section that not many people know about. A huge rose bush sits in the center, hollow enough to fit multiple people. I personally think people are overdramatic about how pointy rose thorns are- but for him, I hold the branches up so he can step inside without touching them. It's a sunny day, so the light that shines through the branches is bright, shining just over the picnic blanket with his favorite foods I has the kitchen make. And this parts unplanned- but we can hear a violinist practicing inside from where we are.
We sit down, and I lean my head on his chest, trying to hype myself up to actually do it and stop being a coward. For the next hour, as we talk- I slowly relax, partially due to his contagious laugh and smile. That was part of what made me remember him, even months before we started dating. It was very rare to see a servant smile- but when he did, it was so contagious that even my dad smiled. Let that sink in- my dad, an evil motherfucker- smiled.
I don't think he ever thought I remembered him from before, but I did. How could I not?
I feel the box in my front pocket, and decide to just fucking do it. I shift my body so that we're looking straight into each other's eyes, taking both of his hands in mine. He smiles.
"Ali- I love you."
"I love you too- what are you doing?" A confused look comes over his face.
"Let me finish before I chicken out." My heart beats so fast that my chest is visibly throbbing. "I love you. I can't say that about very many people in this world. The first time you kissed me- I didn't know exactly what I felt at the time, but I do now. I think I just.. knew. Ali?"
"Yes?" He says, his voice shaky.
"Will you-"
"Yes."
—-Lauren's P.O.V, day two—
I groan when the morning light wakes me up. I barely got two hours last night, yet I know once I get out of bed- I won't be able to fall asleep again. I instinctively reach over to where Kyle would be laying- but find the bed cold and empty. I turn over- and sure enough, he's already up- getting breakfast I assume.
I reluctantly get up, rubbing my eyes. My head bobs forward like it does when I'm sleep deprived, my eyelids fighting themselves to stay awake. It's okay- I'll be fine once I've got a ridiculously large amount of coffee in. It's just getting to that coffee that'll be hard. I curse myself in my head for not taking one of Kyle's sleeping pills last night.
I grab a pair of jeans and a white button up out of my bag. It takes me about five minutes longer than it should to get them on. I simply brush my hair and leave it down- we won't be touring the rest of the capital for another few hours, and either way- we're on vacation. I really need to stop giving a shit about how I look.
I pull the sheets on my side of the bed up so they're not a complete mess when the maids come in later to clean, and slip into my pair of flats that I should probably throw away. I smile at the attendeee standing in the hallway and start walking to that large dining room from yesterday. A secret service agent mutters code words into his work phone. Palace guards open the door for me. When I walk in, everybody's already sitting down eating. The food sits in the center, kept hot by it's metal containers.
Something I've observed over here is that they don't each much cold food or desserts. Fruit is as sweet as it gets. I'm definitely not complaining- the food's always delicious, and the cuisine unique compared to any other because of the spices only grown here. They've started exporting small amounts, and their spice trade's already doing well. I don't know if they're planning on expanding- but hell, I would. The amount of revenue it'd bring into their economy? Shit.
I place a hand on his shoulder and sit down beside Kyle. "Sleep good?" He sarcastically asks.
"Oh yeah- best sleep I've gotten in months." I reply, flipping him off under the table. I finally look at the dishes. It's self serve style- like most of the meals here, so food isn't wasted. Eggs and vegetables in one- a type of rice also native only to Ordaia, and soup. Persimmons sit in another bowl- enough for everybody here to have two. I'm not very hungry, so I have some of the eggs, persimmons- and about the minutes later- espresso shots an attendee brings. Oh coffee- my third love.
I knock back two of them. It's bitter and strong, so I try to restrain myself from reaching for a third while I wait for the first two to kick in.
I look across the table. Mina's finishing the last bites of her food, seemingly un phased by how pissed she was yesterday. She definitely got that from us- staying mad doesn't do anybody any good. Her birthday is tomorrow- and with how much she works, it'll probably be another three to six months at the very least before she sees her brother in person again. There's a strangely comfortable silence at the table, but it doesn't last long.
Three cell phones ding almost simultaneously. Uh oh- what's happened this time? We all exchange glances, our eyes saying "Alright, who wants to do the honors?"
I sigh and pull mine out of my pocket. Hesitantly, I click the power button and scan over the notification.
David Miller- United States Democratic Presidential Candidate, caught in a mental breakdown
Article by Meg Haines
God fucking Damnit David. "Excuse me for a minute." I say, getting up from the table. I find a side hallway that doesn't have much foot traffic- only secret service, and as I'm about to click on his name in my phone, I get a call from Lolita.
"I saw." I answer the phone.
"Good- then I need you back here, like ten minutes ago." She says.
"Lolita my daughters birthday is tomorrow-"
"So what? If you get on one of the planes within the next hour, you should be back in the states within ten. If it only takes us forty minutes to film an explanation video- and you get back on the plane ten minutes after that, you'll be back there by nine am."
I roll my eyes. "Can't I just film a speech in front of a green screen and send it over?"
"No- absolutely not! You can always tell when a green-screen's been used." Shes not wrong. "Besides, you have a special talent for snapping people the fuck out of it. David really needs that right now."
I shrug. I'm not that good at it- at least I don't think I am, but I could try. "Fine. What happened anyways? I didn't get to read the article."
I start walking back to Kyle and I's room as she talks. I'm not going to bother repacking everything- I'll just shove a change of clothes and hygiene products into my bag.
"He was crying in his backyard- by the pool. A nosy reporter took a picture of him through the fence and.. "
"The media's making him crying after his moms death a bigger deal than it is." I wrinkle my face in disgust. They really can't just leave people alone, can they? "Got it. I'll be in the air in thirty minutes."
I hang up as I'm pulling my makeup bag and green pantsuit out of my suitcase to shove in my bag. I'll have to get ready on the plane. "Where ya going?" Kyle asks. I hadn't noticed him standing in the doorway.
"California's Campaign headquarters. I'll be back early tomorrow morning."
"Lauren you haven't slept- Ella told me and I can see it on your face.
"I'll sleep on the way there and the way back." I reply, picking my bag up. I text Ella my plans, and Kyle stops me for a second and reaches across to his bedside table for the pill bottle. He twists the top open and presses one into my hand.
"Please do." He plants a light kiss on my forehead.
Even as I leave, I know that I won't be sleeping. The pills- while amazing at what they do, make me drowsy for a few hours after I wake up anytime I take them. Kyle's usually fine twenty minutes after he's gotten up- they affect everybody differently. Still- I slip the pill into my bag. I might need it eventually; ya never know.
The espresso's starting to kick in. If I have more later- we keep it on all three of our jets, I should be fine. I could even use that twenty hours to write three or four speeches for the upcoming campaign stops. I sigh- I can feel and see myself slowly slipping back into that "go,go,go" mentality. I only hope I can make myself slow down enough- even for a second, so that I don't lose my mind.
The jet's ready in just twenty minutes. As I board it, one thought keeps playing over and over again in my head:
Is this really worth it?
—
"Oh thank god you're here-" Lolita's heels click as she speed walks to me. "Okay, so- I hired a new speech writer and she's amazing so all you'll have to do is read off of the teleprompter- add a little bit of you to it, of course."
The California headquarters are only a five minute drive away from the airport, three with the secret service drivers. Doubling as the national headquarters- it's also much larger than the one in DC. Every state with a large population has its own- but in the Midwest, a few states are grouped together, with those headquarters being close to state lines. I take a minute to look around.
Young interns run around, following the instructions I'm sure Lolita gave them earlier. More graphic designers are inside of a glass room down the hallway, working on design ideas for the second round of merch. Fifty percent'll go to food banks across the country- the other fifty percent to campaign funds. "I like the third one." I yell down the hallway. The graphic designer spins around so fast at my voice, recognizing it instantly. "Use that one." I continue, and turn back to Lolita.
"Okay- let's get this done." She takes me to an elevator and presses the roof button. At the top, the doors open up to reveal a studio-type setup. So this is where they filmed the first two campaign ads- nice. The background has a nice view of the city, and another few interns are scattered at the camera setup- adjusting mics, and the ring lights since it's the middle of the night. I swear to god if they aren't offered jobs after this I will. David sits on one of the couches, reading over a paper script. I plop down beside him, my arm resting on the back of the couch.
"You okay now?"
"Yeah-" he sighs. "But we wouldn't be here in the first place if I were okay okay."
"You'll do fine-" I say. "The polls haven't slipped that much. Our response video should help push it back up."
"Marisol and Abigail are ahead by five points."
"Five points doesn't mean anything this early on. We'll pull ahead- I know we will. Marisol.. she made a mistake picking Abigail. The two of us- on the same ticket? They don't stand a chance on Election Day." I reply. David opens his mouth to reply, but Lolita signals they're ready for us- so we both get up and stand where the camera intern directs us to. An intern clicks a button on a remote, and the teleprompter turns on.
David's part of the response comes first.
"Good evening-" It's the middle of the night, but whatever. "Approximately eleven hours ago a reporter from life weekly photographed me in my private residence. This is an egregious privacy violation- but nevertheless, we do want to address what he photographed. Now- regardless of the standard the media tries to hold politicians to, we are- in fact, human beings. This may come as a shock to you, Meg- but humans beings do cry every now and then. My mother died not too long ago, for those of you who weren't aware. Her and I were very close- so as you can imagine I felt every human emotion that comes with that. But I can promise you this- just as my running mate can: We will not bring our personal lives into the way we govern, and we will work tirelessly for the good of every American and potential American regardless of how we're feeling emotionally. Lauren?"
I ignore my teleprompter, and instead- let the words flow out of my mouth without looking at it. I glance at David a few times as I speak, simulating a conversation as he nods in agreement. "As we've said before- and as you all know, we don't have the best history. On top of that neither of us have had easy lives, but I believe that's just a further qualification. We understand the struggles of working class Americans in a way that our opponents can't even begin to comprehend- them both growing up well off. I do not have a vendetta against people born with wealth- what I do take issue with it when they try to pretend they have even the slightest idea about how the average American lives. I especially take issue with my opponent's team attacking David's mental health just hours after that photo was taken. I mean- no offense to the journalists who actually have souls- but what the fuck is wrong with you guys? His mother died. Every single media outlet that spread that photo and captioned it something along the lines of 'Democratic candidate mentally unfit to be the president' should be fucking ashamed of yourselves. Because if it was one of your mothers, I seriously fucking doubt you'd be able to just smile through it."
I take a deep breath. The camera guy clicks the off button, and everybody's looking at me like I just said something deep. Did I? I felt like I was rambling while the words were coming out of my mouth. Oh well- I guess I'll know when the response video goes viral, or doesn't. David placed a hand on my arm.
"You just saved our asses-" he pauses. "Again."