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Wilbur smiled widely as he leaned against the wall and watched as the professionals worked their magic. His eyes held an amused but wicked glint at the sight.
Tommy, the unpredictable firecracker, was sitting as still as a statue as his hair was messed with and his face was painted with makeup. His skin was pale and he looked too anxious to make any sudden movements.
Wilbur’s grin turned a bit more pleased at that. Seems his little talk with him earlier worked well in his favor. He watched them fuss over him for ten more minutes before waving them away and walking over to the seated teenager.
Wilbur tsked when he saw Tommy shrink away from him slightly and as his eyes darted away. “Come on now is that’s no way to treat your brother,” Wilbur huffed playfully but with an edge of warning in his tone.
“You’re not my brother,” Tommy whispered but he sounded unsure and hesitant.
“Not by blood,” Wilbur conceded because that was true. “But we are family regardless, no?”
“You only kept me alive because I’m interesting,” Tommy hissed, eyes snapping up to meet his abruptly. “I know I was the youngest person drawn for the games in a few years but there’s no reason for any of this!”
“Have you got it all out of your system yet?,” Wilbur asked condescendingly as he looked bored. “Afterall we have about,” he paused to check his pocket watch. “Twenty minutes until we’re expected on stage so you should probably get this temper tantrum out of your system by then.”
“Temper tantrum?,” Tommy repeated incredulously with a snarl. “We were literally in the middle of being forced to participate in the yearly killing game- a game which you’ve been in multiple times- and won- and you fucking kept me like a pet by the end of it!”
“I saved you- and you’re my brother not a pet,” Wilbur corrected, smiling at him as he raised one of his eyebrows. “Besides, would you have preferred if I let the other participants kill you for entertainment?,” he asked wryly. “Or would you rather I have killed you?,” he finished in a dark tone.
Tommy swallowed as he fisted the fabric of his pants. “You hunted them all for sport and then declared me as a prize,” he said venomously although his voice shook as he ignored Wilbur’s last sentence.
“I always wanted a little brother- and getting you is sort of like a prize in itself,” Wilbur hummed, ignoring the thirteen year old‘s rage. “I may have money and power but it gets boring very fast.”
“So you what? Just snatch a random kid out of a yearly murder feast to satisfy your psycho craving for family?,” Tommy spat.
“I saved you because you’re special,” Wilbur said simply. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“What, you've never had a thirteen year old almost slit your throat before me?,” Tommy snorted dryly before glowering. “Shame.”
“You’re braver than anyone I’d ever fought against- more foolish too,” Wilbur commented before he reached out a hand and nudged Tommy’s chin up forcibly. “Look,” he demanded.
Tommy glared fiercely but did as instructed. He saw himself in the mirror with his skin painted so all his scars were hidden. A light pink blush put on his cheeks. His eyes were made to look bigger and his hair was made to be shiny and poofy.
Wilbur stood next to him in a dark blue fitted suit, looking put together and dangerous. His brown hair was tamed and his curls were styled just this side of formal. He was wearing a new pair of glasses, a big golden circular pair.
Side by side they looked like opposites. Tommy dressed in light yellows and warm tones, looking every bit the child and Wilbur, dressed in deep blues, looking mature and put together.
“Do you know what they’ll see when they get a look at us together?,” Wilbur questioned before he continued not waiting for an answer. “Two fighters. Two people who would do anything necessary to survive. Two brothers finally brought together.”
“They’ll see whatever they want,” Tommy pointed out with narrowed eyes. “As long as it entertains them they don’t care about what's moral- or what’s real.”
Wilbur laughed darkly before his grip of Tommy’s chin tightened making the boy wince. “Well in about five minutes it’s about to be real sweetheart. You’re about to be a Soot.”
Tommy flinched and shot him a startled look as his eyes went wide. “But I thought-,”
“That it was a publicity stunt to appease the capital? Darling I’m an honorary member of the capital at this point,” Wilbur practically purred. “I’ve won the games ten times over and they adore me. And once they see you they’ll love you even more.”
“I don’t want them to like me!,” Tommy practically shouted, eyes wild and pupils dilated. “They’re cruel monsters who get their kicks off for killing people left and right just as you do. You won so many times that you’ve gotten bored of your usual prey so you’ve chosen to keep me-,”
“Enough,” Wilbur hissed tone as cold as ice, making Tommy swallow his words and halt his sentence. “They’re monsters, yes I can’t disagree to that and I have killed many many people. But you are far better than prey.”
Wilbur forced Tommy’s chin up higher so they could lock eyes in the mirror. “You, thirteen years and fragile bones, killed seven people to survive in the hunger games, you almost killed a reigning champ. And you almost succeeded too.”
Tommy bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Wilbur’s eyes become half lidded as they stared at one another in the mirror.
“The capital does love a good show and they’re eager to know why I’ve slaughtered them all but saved you,” Wilbur drawled. “Once we step on that stage you’re mine- my brother- my fellow champion and the entire world will know that,” Wilbur’s voice was so reverent that it made Tommy want to puke.
Tommy forced himself to keep taking even breaths as Wilbur’s eyes grew the familiar glint that he got after he came back night after night during the games covered in someone else’s blood. The one that meant he was pleased, deeply satisfied.
“The bloodthirsty monster taking in a little songbird,” Wilbur chuckled but there was no humor in his tone, only dark amusement. “I’ve grown attached to you and I’m not afraid to break your wings so you can’t fly, little bird,” he said as his brown, almost black eyes stared at the pair of terrified blue ones in the mirror’s reflection.
“That’s a promise,” Wilbur murmured before as he ran a hand through Tommy’s hair, ignoring that the product in it was making his hand sticky. His little brother remained frozen in place making him have a pleased grin. Trumpets sounded outside and Wilbur’s grin turned predatory.
“Now come on,” Wilbur hummed as he pulled Tommy out of the chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders forcing him into his side. “It’s showtime sweetheart,” he said in a syrupy sweet voice. “Smile.”
And then he walked forward forcing them both through the door and onto stage where a sea of cameras and people waited and were trained on the two’s every move.
After all, it's not everyday a reigning champion, known for his bloodthirsty horrifying kills, to swoon and sigh about finding his other half, his lost little brother in a famous killing game.
Tommy stared at them all with wide doe eyes as they all shouted question after question and cooed and sighed at them. He shrank back against Wilbur unconsciously making the crowd awe.
Wilbur merely ran a hand through Tommy’s hair paying no mind to the product in it like he had before. He shot them all a soft look before staring at the teenager against his side with an out of character adoring look.
Tommy was helpless to do anything but to play along.
So he breathed and snuggled into Wilbur’s side playing his part, playing no mind to the man’s satisfied sigh or his dark grin.
The headlines read: two lost brothers, two halves of a soul, reunited after years forced apart.
The capital and the districts ate it up.
Just like Wilbur said they would.
After all, who doesn’t like a reunion story?
And if this makes it so Wilbur now has full legal claim over his little brother?
Well that’s just another perk of being in the spotlight.