Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For once, Soobin was glad to be awoken early. The disturbance had ripped him from the clutches of a nightmare. In the dream, he was standing alone in the district square, staring up at the stage as the Reaping was about to begin. There was a sea of girls next to him, but he was the only boy. Which meant that single scrap of paper in the bowl directly across from him had his name on it. He was going to be in the Hunger Games. He was going to die. He started shaking violently, and his legs collapsed underneath him. The Peacekeepers were grabbing him and their grip hurt and they were dragging him, taking him away from everything he had ever known-

And then suddenly, he heard a loud rustling from across the room, piercing through the nightmare. For a moment, he couldn’t open his eyes. He was paralyzed by the thought that if he opened his eyes, he’d be back in that square, alone and vulnerable. But then he heard Beomgyu’s loud laugh and knew he was safe. He opened his eyes and looked around his room. He was home, the Reaping hadn’t happened yet, and he wasn’t going to be in the Hunger Games. Everything was going to be okay.

Except for Beomgyu, who he was about to murder for invading his room at this hour.

“Get out,” Soobin whined before flopping back onto his pillow.

“Mom said to wake you up. So, wake up!” Beomgyu pulled the pillow out from under Soobin’s head and whacked him with it. “Besides, dear brother of mine,” he batted his eyes in an expression of fake innocence, “I’m here to borrow one of your shirts for today.”

“Why?” Soobin asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Well, I was going to wear one of my shirts, but Mom said they were too wrinkly to wear to the Reaping, and you iron all of your shirts, so I am stealing one.”

It was too early to argue with his brother about this. Besides, what was one less white button-down among what seemed to be hundreds? “Fine, but if you stain it, don’t bother giving it back to me. And it’s gonna be a little big on you, so don’t forget to tuck it in.”

Beomgyu grabbed a shirt and left the room. Soobin was about to go back to sleep, but remembered his dream and decided against it. He didn’t want to fall back into that place. So, he climbed out of bed, hit the bathroom, and brushed his teeth before heading to the kitchen. His dad was already making eggs while his mom was getting ready. Normally they would already be off to work by now, but since today was “special,” everyone got the day off.

As he sat down, his father set a plate in front of him. Soobin, of course, had no appetite but forced himself through the motions anyway.

Beomgyu slid into the seat next to him, his own plate of eggs in hand.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” Soobin asked. It was unlike Beomgyu to do anything but run straight for the kitchen after he woke up.

“I was too nervous to eat earlier, but now I’m too hungry to care.”

Their dad left the kitchen to give the two boys their privacy.

“How are you feeling? Really?”

Soobin sighed, a hollow, apathetic action. “I’m scared. If it was ever gonna be me, this would be the year. And I’m not- I wouldn’t make it.”

“Come on! Don’t say that! You can swing an ax better than anyone I’ve ever seen! Show them what District 7 is made of!” Beomgyu gave him a soft punch on the arm.

Soobin was always thankful for Beomgyu, but never more so than in this moment. Though they were a year apart, he had always felt that they were more like twins. They were always in the same year in school because their parents held Soobin back a year to be with Beomgyu. He had been a shy kid, and they worried about him making friends. Eventually, he grew out of his shyness, but by then it was too late to move Soobin up a year. Beomgyu was like Soobin’s own personal cheerleader. Soobin didn’t even mind that Beomgyu’s words weren’t true, he was just happy to hear some sort of assurance.

They both knew Soobin was of the clumsiest workers in the district, never having improved his skill since he first started learning it when he was 10. Even with the best ax in all of Panem, he still wouldn’t stand a chance in the Hunger Games.

“What about you? How do you feel?” Soobin genuinely wanted to know but also wanted to divert the attention off of himself.

“I mean, obviously, I’m nervous. I’d be stupid not to be. It could be any of us, but that doesn’t mean that it will be, you know? And the way I see it, in a year and a day, I’ll be done with this forever. You know, I thought you’d be more excited.”

“Why would I be excited?”

“It’s your last Reaping. After today you never have to go through this again.” Both of them ignored the words he didn’t say.

But Soobin had never thought of it that way before. If he could make it through this one last Reaping, he would never have to suffer through this again. He would be safe. He would be free.

Soobin started thinking it over. He never liked math, but once he started running the numbers in his head, he felt better. His name was only in there a few times. His family wasn’t well off by any means, but they had enough that they didn’t need to put his name in extra times for more rations. And there were hundreds of other boys in his district and plenty of them in need of more food. The odds just might be in his favor.

Soobin looked down, pondering his response, and his eyes caught on a small image on the table. Beomgyu followed gaze and ran his hand over the small engraving.

“I remember when we carved this,” Beomgyu said.

The carving was of a small tree, etched permanently into the table, which, like most of the rest of the house, was wooden. Perks of living in the lumber district. But it wasn’t just any tree. If you looked close enough at the branches, you would see that they formed an ‘S’ and a ‘B.’ They had carved it on the day of Soobin’s very first Reaping. The tree to remind him where he came from, and the letters so he knew what he was fighting for. Just in case.

“I think it’s our good luck charm.”

Soobin mulled that idea over. It had kept not just him, but both of them safe over the years. He supposed it was possible it still had a bit more luck left for them.

That thought, that spark of hope, carried through him through the menial tasks of the morning. Every tedious part of his morning routine felt even more so today. He either wanted time to move forward faster, taking him to the end of the day when this whole ordeal was over, or move backward, taking him far away from the Reaping. The last thing he wanted was for time to stand still, leaving him in this pocket of anticipation and dread.

He rushed as he got ready, hoping that would propel time forward. He decided against his usual white button-down, if only because Beomgyu was already borrowing one and he didn’t want them to match. He reached for a more casual long-sleeved shirt just as his mom walked into his room.

She made a face at the shirt. “Really? For Reaping Day?”

Soobin sighed and grabbed a dark blue sweater. It always irritated him how his parents acted every year on this day. They were young enough to still remember their own Reapings but old enough to think that being chosen for the games was “an honor.” Soobin wasn’t sure he’d ever be old enough to think that.

He and Beomgyu emerged from their rooms at the same time, Beomgyu looking surprisingly good in Soobin’s shirt. It didn’t look big on him at all. If Soobin didn’t know any better, he might’ve assumed it was Beomgyu’s shirt.

They stood side by side in front of the mirror, making last amendments to themselves. Soobin noticed a patch of hair sticking up on the back of Beomgyu’s head and smoothed it out for him. Beomgyu gave him a grateful nod and searched Soobin’s head for any stray hairs as well.

Their mother came over to inspect them. “My handsome boys!” She licked her thumb and used it to wipe away some stray egg off Soobin’s top lip. “There you go. Okay! Picture time!” They gathered in front of the fireplace like they did every year and plastered on painfully fake smiles. Soobin always thought this tradition was morbid but went along with it to keep their mother sane.

Before they left, Soobin watched Beomgyu pause and hover over the kitchen table. He ran his finger across their carving, for good luck. Once he left, Soobin copied his action, memorizing the grooves until he could feel the branches’ smooth finish without even touching the table. He committed his whole home to memory and didn’t want to miss a single detail, not even this small little emblem. Just in case.

They arrived at the district square where the Reaping was held about 45 minutes later. District 7 was one of the bigger districts in Panem since they needed lots of land to grow trees to sustain the country’s lumber industry. This left the district fairly spread out, making transportation both a pain and a luxury, if you could afford it. But today, everyone could afford it. The Capitol was not about to let anyone miss the Reapings. It occurred to Soobin that if they had the resources to transport everyone on Reaping Day, they must have the resources to do so on any other day.

The square was already teeming with people once they arrived, girls and boys dressed in their nicest clothes, all with various degrees of dread and excitement on their faces. Soobin and Beomgyu bid their parents goodbye and went to sign in. The Peacekeepers asked them a series of questions and then pricked their finger to get a sample of their blood. Soobin stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the bleeding, grimacing at the hot, tangy taste of his own blood.

Beomgyu grabbed him for a quick hug before they were split up into their respective age groups. Soobin, being among the oldest boys in the Reaping, was shuffled to the very back. Beomgyu was in the next age group, and Soobin could see him standing just a few rows in front of him.

Once everyone was in place, Jaxon Bauble, the representative from the Capitol that was assigned to their district, stepped out. He looked ridiculous, with a cloud of orange hair on the top of his head, and an outfit full of bright colors that stood out from everyone else in attendance. But it made people straighten up and fix their stares on him the second he came into view. The crowd’s energy was a palpable thing in the air as the ceremony officially started.

From that moment, Soobin could tell this Reaping was different from any of the ones he’d experienced previously. Everyone was antsier, happier in a way. The boy next to him could barely stand still as the big screen played the same video they watched every year about the Games serving as a reminder of the rebellion. Soobin had a feeling that no one was paying attention. They were all talking, whispering to each other in a way that sounded like buzzing in Soobin’s ears. Even Jaxon seemed to notice the fervor and knew precisely what the people wanted.

“Should I bring him out?” Jaxon asked. The crowd cheered like that was what they came here for.

“Okay, everyone. You watched him compete last year, you cheered for him, you cried with him, and together as a district, you rejoiced when he won. Here he is again, the victor of the 66th Annual Hunger Games, Choi Yeonjun!”

And there he was. The reason why the crowd was brimming with misguided hope. Everyone thought they could be like him. Everyone wanted to be like him. They thought, “Well, if he can win, surely I can too!” For the first time in Soobin’s lifetime, District 7 had a victor, and now people were lining up to be the next one.

The crowd erupted when Yeonjun stepped out. He looked different than he did last year. Despite himself, despite everything, Soobin still tuned in to the Hunger Games every year like everyone else. He’d watched almost every moment of Yeonjun’s winning game. The whole district came to a standstill when it seemed they might actually have a winner. Once Yeonjun reached the top 6, schools started closing, and workers were sent home early just so everyone had the chance to witness his triumph.

But since his win, since the celebrations in the street, his riotous homecoming, and the victory tour, the people of District 7 had seen very little of Choi Yeonjun. He seemed to have become more private after winning, rather than the other way around, like most victors.

Since the last time Soobin had seen Yeonjun, he looked healthier. He seemed to have put on the weight he lost in the games. And now his hair was blue. Hair dye was a luxury in the districts, one that he could afford now with his earnings. There was also something else different about him. It wasn’t a change in his appearance, but some almost imperceptible difference in the way he carried himself. It disappeared so quickly Soobin was sure he imagined it.

Choi Yeonjun approached the microphone to say a few words.

“Just a year ago, I was standing exactly where you are right now. Now, I’m up here, and my life has been changed,” he breathed a deep sigh, “for the better. The Games will be the hardest thing you ever do, but also the most rewarding. It really helped me figure out who I am, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Soobin didn’t need to kill 23 people to figure out who he was, thank you very much.

“To whoever is chosen today,” Yeonjun continued, “I look forward to meeting and mentoring you, and may the odds be ever in your favor!”

Jaxon replaced Yeonjun at the mic, “I don’t think I could’ve said it any better myself! With that, let’s begin! As always, ladies first!”

Jaxon walked over to the first bowl and plucked a name. Soobin wasn’t listening. All he could hear was a loud roaring in his ears. He watched as a girl was ushered to the stage, a mix of shock and confusion on her face. It seemed that Choi Yeonjun’s words were not enough to quell her fear.

Once she was on stage, Jaxon approached the second bowl and pulled out the scrap of paper that could ruin his life.

“Choi Beomgyu.”

The first emotion Soobin felt was relief.

But then he processed the name. Realized who it was.

He watched as Beomgyu’s head bounced in front of him, moving out of his row and towards the front. His brother turned around to look at him, and Soobin broke.

He had to do something. He was the big brother, he was supposed to protect him. His mouth formed the words, and he could’ve sworn he said, “I volunteer!” but no sound came out. It was like his throat was stuffed with cotton, and his feet were nailed to the ground. His self-preservation instinct had kicked in, locking him in place, even when he desperately wanted to give himself up for his brother.

And now it was too late. Beomgyu was already on stage, faking a smile for the audience. Soobin could see past that smile, even though he wished he couldn’t.

Soobin realized far too late that this was worse than any nightmare he could’ve dreamed up. Because even in the darkest stretches of his imagination, Beomgyu was safe. He was supposed to always be safe.