Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nick tries his best to enjoy the late July breeze that’s blowing through his auburn hair, his fingers pressing so hard against the dirt as he leans back on his arms that the ground starts to yield under his weight. He gazes at the mountains that surround District 2, his eyes tracing their curved and jagged edges. He thinks about how he once considered them to be the walls of his sanctuary, when in reality, they’ve only served as his confining cage for the last eighteen years. He rolls his head from one shoulder to another, trying to relax his muscles, though he knows it won’t help. Not when the reaping is happening in a few hours. He lets his head fall back, bearing his throat for the sun’s rays to heat up. He should be getting ready, like all of his friends and classmates are doing, but Nick is feeling rather selfish today. He wants to sit here, his body laid out, for as long as he can. After today, who knows when he’ll get to do this again.

If he’ll get to do it again.

As he lays his back flat on the ground, wiping his hands together to clear the grime off of them, he stares up at the clear blue sky. He sees two black birds fly next to each other, flapping their wings and playfully chasing one another. A sad smile graces his lips as he admires how the creatures fly freely, but it fades as quickly as it comes. When he was younger, he always thought that the saying “Free like a bird” was silly whenever an adult said it, wondering why anyone would ever want to be like a bird. He’d only ever known them as a source of food, something to be hunted and killed for sport with the gratification of getting to eat it afterwards. 

Now that he’s older, he finds himself wishing the same thing. Birds are free to roam wherever. No confines of district walls or the Capitol or the stupid fucking Games… The only thing limiting them is how far they can go before they tire. 

Nick's contemplation is abruptly interrupted by a series of gunshots. He turns his head towards the building about a mile away, where the next generation of Peacekeepers are undergoing training. That’s one of the downsides – or maybe benefits, depending on who’s asked – of living in District 2. Before reaching the age of six, Nick had become accustomed to the cacophony of gunfire and the cries of agony reverberating through the city streets, originating from the various training centres dispersed across the district. By the age of eight, Nick had been enrolled in the training academy for two years and would return home daily with bruises covering his face and body. At eleven years old, he had honed his skills to the point where he could effortlessly hit every bullseye on a target with a knife without looking, and even managed to subdue several sixteen-year-olds with ease. At twelve, he felt ready to volunteer for the Games only to have his brother, David, be picked instead.

That year it had been harder than normal to watch the Games. Nick was already not fond of them, or the Capitol for that matter, but he couldn’t voice it out loud. Not only was it illegal to speak out against them, but District 2 was one of the few districts that actually made a big deal out of the entire thing. All classes, both training and academic, were cancelled until the Games finished, and nightly feasts and parades were the new norm until either their tributes died or one became a victor. The Games were broadcast across every screen in the districts of Panem, ranging from homes to the big screen set up in the town square. 

The year that David went in, Nick got to experience for the first time what the other districts of Panem experience during the Games. He found his disdain for the Capitol only grew stronger as the Games went on. While his dad was out partying with everyone else, continuously boasting about how David was his son, Nick got to sit at home with his mum on the couch and hold her hand, wiping her tears while they watched David kill one tribute after the next. Every time a cannon went off in the distance, Nick and his mum witnessed a small piece of David die. When David returned home as a victor, he was a shell of what he used to be. While his parents were happy their son had survived, Nick noticed that his mum smiled less often after everything was said and done.

“Nicholas!” a voice shouts, causing Nick to sit up straight as he looks over. Sahar, one of his closest friends, is walking towards him while holding up her hem as she moves. She’s in her reaping outfit, a pale blue dress with her thick brown hair in two pigtails, with white ribbons at the end holding them in place. Her brows are pinched together, and Nick can’t tell if it’s from worry or from squinting because of the sun’s brightness. “Nick, your mum’s been looking everywhere for you. The reaping is going to start within the hour, and you aren’t even dressed yet!”

“I’ve decided I’m not going,” Nick responds, a lopsided smile forming on his face. “There’s always next year. Oh, wait. I’ll be too old then, huh? That’d be a shame,” he adds with a dramatic click of his teeth.

They’re both aware that neither of them have a choice on attending and what he’s just said is borderline treason. Yet, it has become a tradition for one of them to voice their refusal to participate. Fortunately for him, Sahar is among the few individuals who not only understands his views on the Games but also shares them. They’ve talked about it for years now, always in this field that’s mostly secluded from the town, minus the training building that isn’t too far off in the distance. They had found this spot during their first year of training when Nick had helped Sahar bandage up her bruised knuckles and soothed her as she cried.

They were six at the time.

Sahar rolls her eyes fondly, towering above him now. She extends her hand out for Nick to take, which he does. As he stands, he begins wiping the dirt off from his trousers. “We don’t have a choice in the matter,” she replies with a timid smile, mirroring what Nick said the year prior. “Besides, it’s the last reaping we have to attend. Then it’s just a bad memory.” 

Nick has to fight the urge to bring up the fact that her younger brother, Sami, is only twelve. So while it’s about to be a bad memory for Nick, it’s still Sahar’s reality for six more years. He decides against it, knowing Sahar is fully aware and not wanting to make today any more grim than it already is. “I suppose that’s true. However, if it isn’t the Games, then it’ll be either joining the Peacekeepers or masonry. Not to mention, I’ll forever be living in David’s shadow.” 

Sahar shrugs as they both focus on the town that’s coming closer towards them now. They walk past old buildings that haven’t been resided in since the first rebellion. It’s the only part of District 2 that feels like a ghost town, the only sign of life being when someone passes through. “Maybe, but… Is that really such a bad thing? I mean, at least you wouldn’t have to kill anyone, you know?” She looks up at him with wide brown eyes. “You and your family are set for life. And as a Peacekeeper, you could move districts too. You’re one of the top cadets in our class and with nothing tying you down here, they’d be willing to transfer you anywhere. Maybe you could even go to the Capitol. Get married, start a family, live happily ever after...”

Nick laughs, but not a single trace of amusement can be found in it. It’s a bitter sound that escapes his throat hoarsely as he looks anywhere but at Sahar. 

“Yeah, right. Start a family, maybe even have two kids! Just to have one of them become a victim or a murderer. I’d be raising them for slaughter, like some bloody cow or chicken!” he spits venomously, shaking his head. “I’d rather die in the Games before I brought another life into this world. And being transferred to the Capitol? Why the fuck would I want to live in the place that I dete-” 

Sahar harshly elbows him in the side then, reminding him of their surroundings as the ground beneath them turns from gravel to smooth pavement. Nick presses his lips in a tight line. 

“Sorry. Needless to say, that’s not going to happen. I’d probably go to District 7 or something. Live in the woods,” he says, glancing down at her. “Besides, where is this coming from? We’ve never talked about a future where we’d have our own families or anything like that before. I thought we both had an agreement that that was a bad idea.”

The cheerful facade she had tried to have is long gone now, her face blank of any emotion as she looks forward. “Yeah, well, that was before we made it to the age of eighteen, wasn’t it? If neither of us get picked, we need to think about what’s next. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life alone?”

They walk in silence towards the small community of houses, Nick mulling over her words as they come to a stop at the fork in the road. One path is a continuation of the smooth pavement that leads to the Victor’s Village, where Nick and his family reside. The other is a windy path of cracked pavement that leads to the small cluster of houses Sahar calls home. They stand still and Nick reaches out, grabbing Sahar’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Hey… Once the reaping is over, you and Sami should come to mine for dinner. Unfortunately, David will be home for the Games this year because another one of the victors will be mentoring this time. But I promise I’ll make it bearable, and we can even sneak out during the recap of the reaping. I’ll make sure to steal a bottle of Mum’s wine, and we can mimic the Capitol accent all night long.” He beams at her.

Sahar returns the smile but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Sami loves your mum’s cooking as well as the shadow puppets you make. Especially the elephant ones.” 

They fall silent once more and the only thing Nick can think of is pulling her in for a hug, so he does. He presses a chaste kiss against the top of her head, rubbing circles on her back. “Sorry for being a dick,” he mumbles against her hair, enjoying the familiar scent of the shampoo she uses – one of the many luxuries of District 2.

“It’s okay,” she responds, and Nick can feel his neck become slightly wet from where a tear must’ve escaped her. “One of us usually is on reaping day.”

Nick inhales deeply before pulling apart, cupping her cheek to wipe the stray tears away, “Eleven reapings down, one more to go, yeah?” he asks with a reassuring smile.

“Yeah. One more to go,” she replies in a whisper. She wipes her nose, sniffling, before adding in a dramatic Capitol accent, “May the odds ever be in your favour.”

“Atta girl,” Nick chuckles.

***

The sea of people that are swarming towards the centre of the square is borderline overwhelming for Nick as he trudges through the crowd. Examining his surroundings, his gaze shifts from the Peacekeepers positioned on pedestals overseeing the crowd of children, to the older kids engaged in laughter and playful shoving as they queue up to have their fingers pricked. He notices the younger children are holding their heads up high, chests puffed out with determination and confidence while standing in line. A weird sense of nostalgia runs through him at the sight, remembering how he had felt the first year he was eligible for the Games. He had been just as determined to volunteer then, hoping and praying to get picked so he could make his family proud. What he would learn later on is that District 2 rarely has anyone under the age of fourteen go into the Games, thanks to all of the older kids yelling and clambering over each other to volunteer. 

This year will be no different, Nick thinks to himself. Same song, different line.

Nick finds his age group queue, seeing his friend Otis wave at the same time. “Oi, Nick! Over here!”

Nick puts on his prideful mask, walking over with a wave. While Otis was a good friend, he was definitely one of the many people that Nick had to keep his walls up around. As far as Otis was concerned, Nick’s been desperately trying to be picked for the Games. 

If a feeble shout of 'I volunteer' and a partially raised hand are deemed as expressions of desperation, then yes, Nick has undeniably been making desperate attempts to be selected.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” Nick grins as he pulls at the white linen shirt Otis is wearing. The other waves his hand dismissively, pushing Nick’s hand away.

“Oi, don’t crumple up the fabric yet! If I get picked, I want to look presentable,” Otis says, smoothing the cloth down. Nick snorts, rolling his eyes, though internally, the idea of Otis getting picked fills him with dread. Otis isn't a terrible cadet, and Nick believes he would handle himself well in the arena. However, having already witnessed the death of several acquaintances during the Games, he doesn’t want to see Otis become the next tribute to come home in a box.

“Mate, the shirt’s going to get crumpled before you get picked anyways. Everyone and their brothers are going to be pushing you around, trying to speak over you,” Nick points out, which earns him a thoughtful look from Otis.

“I suppose you’re right about that, but I’d like for it to be nice until then at least.”

A Peacekeeper's voice interrupts them as they call for the next person to come forward. They shuffle closer, Nick starting to get lost in thought when Otis speaks up once more. “As much as I want to volunteer, and trust me, I plan to be loud, I hope they give you a chance too,” Otis says with an encouraging nudge. Nick does his best to not take offence to what Otis says because in District 2, this would be taken as a compliment by anyone else. However, as Nick offers him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, the sentiment leaves a bitter taste in Nick’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he responds absentmindedly. Another shout can be heard and they move a couple more feet up.

“Then you could outshine David too,” Otis adds with a grin. “Really make a name for yourself. Shit, you could make the surname Nelson a household name! Have a whole bloodline of victors.”

Nick’s hands curl into fists at his sides but he forces a laugh regardless. “Maybe.”

Otis continues to talk for a few more minutes but Nick doesn’t pay much attention at all. Soon enough, he steps forward and holds his hand out for the Peacekeeper to grab. They take a needle and prick the tip of his index finger, wiping it on a piece of paper and scanning it with a machine. The Peacekeeper nods, allowing him through, and Nick makes haste of losing himself in the crowd. He really needs to get away from Otis before he ends up punching him. Usually, when Otis makes comments like that, Nick is able to laugh and play along. However, today with his nerves frayed already and the pressure that his brother has put on him to volunteer, he’s simply not in the mood. 

He stands in the middle of the boys that are in his age group, tuning out the extremely loud chatter while the rest of the possible District 2 tributes fill in the gaps. He catches a glance of Sahar waving at him before seeing her younger brother Sami walk forwards, mixing in with the kids that are two rows ahead of him. It’s not lost on him that Sami isn’t like the other kids. While the other twelve-year-olds stand tall and engage in lively conversation, Sami fidgets with his dress shirt and keeps his gaze fixed on the ground. The way he presents himself mirrors the internal unease that Nick had experienced during his own first reaping. Nick makes a mental note to grab a lantern from one of the shops in the city after so he can do a proper shadow puppet show for him later that night. Maybe he’ll even let Sam try a sip of wine to help ease his nerves.

The chatter in the atmosphere becomes more lively as more people come in. After another ten minutes, loud trumpets play over the speaker and the crowd begins to clap when they see a few government officials and Peacekeepers appear. The next person to appear is the Academy superintendent, holding an electronic pad in one hand as he waves with the other. 

For the first four districts, a single superintendent oversees all the training academies in each one. Due to the high number of volunteers in these districts, the superintendent carries a pad containing the training statistics of all potential tributes. In front of both the district and the entire nation of Panem, they review the stats of the selected child and the volunteers. The individual with the most impressive statistics is chosen as the official tribute for their district.

As the superintendent stands to the side, the next group of people to come out are the past victors of District 2, all smiling and waving as they move to the other side of the stage. Nick sees his brother step out, waving like the other victors as his eyes search the crowd. When his eyes land on Nick’s, he shoots him a wink and then stands next to a girl in a white dress that ends mid thigh, her black braids donning gold pieces of jewellery at the ends of each one. Nick notices that the beads compliment the golden leaves tracing along her rich brown arms. Her smile seems more reserved than the ones the others give, not quite reaching her eyes that have gold eyeshadow around them. 

Nick’s attention is brought back to the centre of the stage as the escort for District 2, Imogen Heaney, walks out. She’s wearing a bright pink wig that reminds Nick of cotton candy and atop it is a grand pink bow that’s almost the size of her head. She's clad in a long sleeved shimmering pink dress that ends mid thigh, with bubblegum pink platform heels on her feet. Her lipstick is in the form of a heart on her lips as she smiles, her clear blue eyes with overly long eyelashes looking out into the crowd. Every time she blinks, the lashes reach the apple of her cheeks. It makes Nick’s nose scrunch with disgust at just how bright she is.

“Welcome, welcome!” Imogen says into the microphone, her bubbly voice echoing throughout the square. Nick takes a chance to glance over to where he saw Sahar and he feels a wave of calmness wash over him to see she’s looking back. As Imogen continues with her speech, Sahar is mouthing every word with a dramatic roll of her eyes. It causes Nick to grin, fighting back laughter as he looks forward again.

It’s going to be fine. This is the last one, and then I’ll be free.

His smile fades at the thought and returns to a grim expression. He’ll be free after this is over but right now, they’re still in the eye of the storm. He makes a mental note to poke fun at the ridiculous amount of pink that Imogen is wearing later, knowing it’ll get a laugh from both Sahar and Sami while they eat dinner. Maybe a disapproving look from his mum too, but even she’ll be fighting a smile while eating. Nick clings to the thought, his eyes focusing on the sky above them while Imogen proceeds to talk about the annual video from the Capitol that she’s about to put on the screen for everyone to watch.

As the narrator takes over, Nick glances over at Sahar and begins to solemnly mouth the words of the narrator’s speech that they’ve heard time and time again. The speech about Panem’s history, how it came to be, the rebellion, the creation of the Games, peace amongst the districts… blah, blah, blah. Nick knows that now is not the time to be acting as if he and Sahar are simply messing around in a class rather than attending the literal reaping ceremony, but when she smiles back at him, he can’t find it in him to care. If he can make her feel any kind of comfort in this moment, it’s worth it. At least, it is until a nearby Peacekeeper patrolling the aisle makes eye contact with Nick, who instantly turns his head back to the screen as the video ends.

He sees Imogen dabbing at her eyes with a pink cloth, something she does every year after the video ends, before letting out a wistful sigh. “So inspiring, isn’t it? What a lovely tradition, ah! It gets me everytime!” she grins sweetly before folding her pink cloth carefully and tucking it into a hidden pocket in her dress. “Now comes the best part! Selecting our two brave tributes who will be competing in this year’s 74th Annual Hunger Games! Good luck to you all and may the odds be ever in your favour!” 

A whirring noise can be heard as the stage floor opens up, producing two pedestals with glass bowls that are full of small strips of paper. One is for the male tribute and the other is for the female tribute. Imogen makes her way towards the pedestal on the right, wiggling her fingers before leaning into the microphone and saying, “As always, ladies first!” 

She reaches in and grabs out a slip, opening it before clearing her throat and reading the name out loud. “Cassia Sharpe!” 

The screen behind Imogen displays a picture of a young girl in the third row, which was reserved for the kids between the ages of fourteen to sixteen. Nick had seen her in the training centre before, though he never bothered with introducing himself. Her grey eyes are full of excitement, her head of blonde hair bouncing up and down as she walks forward. While moving, four women from the group all raise their hands simultaneously, a scattered array of ‘I volunteer’ echoing through the air, followed by a round of applause. Nick recognises a few of them from his training class and his churning stomach only tightens at the notion that once again, he’ll be seeing yet another familiar face die before the first snowfall of the year occurs. Imogen signals for the four girls as well as Cassia to step forward.

“Mr Farouk, will you please come forward and do what you’re here to do?” Imogen asks and Mr Farouk gives her a curt nod in response. “Ah, lovely! How exciting!” Imogen claps with a grin. Mr Farouk, a man wearing a plain white uniform and a stone-faced look to accompany it, steps forward and silently asks each girl their names. There’s a silent tension that falls among the crowd as he walks up to the microphone.

“After looking over everyone’s statistics, Cassia Sharpe will remain the female tribute for District Two,” he announces. Nick watches the other four volunteers walk down with shame etched into their faces as they sulk back to their proper spots. He exhales deeply, wanting to laugh but being unable to as Imogen steps over to the other podium. His stomach had just begun to untwist but as she leans forward, it goes back into the knotted form it was in mere seconds ago.

“Congratulations, Cassia Sharpe. Now, for the boys.” She hums, reaching into the glass bowl. Nick feels himself stop breathing, like a deer in the headlights as Imogen’s gloved hand ruffles the paper around a few times. She pulls a piece of paper out and the only thing that goes through Nick’s mind in that moment is a mantra of not me, not me, not me.

“Sami Zahid!”

Nick’s eyes open as if he’s just been stabbed in the gut. He hears Sahar’s scream before anything else and it feels as if the world has suddenly been put on pause. His head turns to see Sahar running towards the aisle, screaming out Sami’s name repeatedly as she runs forward. Nick’s eyes shift back to the screen where Sami’s face is, looking like he’s in a trance. The cameras split between Sami and Sahar. That’s when Nick sees the Peacekeeper grab Sahar’s arm roughly as they pull her back. His body lurches forward on instinct, his heart pounding in his ears as he shoves through the bodies of other boys. Everyone is silent and he knows it’s because no one ever objects like this in their district. The families are usually beaming with pride and hollering by now. What they don’t know is that Sami is all Sahar has left of her family. Nick doesn’t plan on that changing today.

Sahar struggles against the Peacekeeper and out of annoyance, the man shoves her to the ground just as Nick breaks into the aisle. 

“Hey! Hey! Don’t fucking touch her!” Nick shouts, gearing up to charge at him when two Peacekeepers grab him by each arm. Despite their grip, Nick breaks free from one, forcefully pushing them backward. Simultaneously, he stomps harshly on the foot of the other Peacekeeper, who releases him in shock. The remaining Peacekeeper turns toward Nick, pointing a gun at his chest which stops Nick in his tracks. He pants heavily, glancing past the Peacekeeper at Sahar, who’s standing up on wobbly knees.

“I suggest you go back to your seat, kid,” the Peacekeeper growls, “We’ll deal with you later.”

Nick swallows thickly, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Sami’s wide ones. Without hesitation, Nick turns around and shouts loudly, "I volunteer!" He pushes past the two Peacekeepers who had tried to restrain him earlier, not waiting for any escort as he makes his way up to the stage. Imogen looks taken aback but it’s more with awe than fear. 

“I volunteer,” he repeats firmly. Imogen lets out a breath that sounds almost like a swoon as she nods. Nick turns to look out at the crowd, squinting as he continues to pant, the whirlwind of emotions still coursing through him. As his eyes adjust to the bright spotlight, to his surprise, there's not a single hand raised for any other volunteer.

Fuck.

"Well then," Imogen says, appearing just as startled as Nick by the lack of other volunteers. "Mr Farouk, would you do the honours one final time?" she asks, quickly composing herself. 

Nick looks over at Mr Farouk, who maintains a flat expression. The man steps forward, nodding for Nick to stand next to Sami. Glancing down at the younger boy, who is still not fully present mentally, Nick notices Sami staring at his feet instead of at the other man.

“I’m doing this as a pleasantry,” Mr Farouk whispers in a hushed voice, glancing Nick up and down before looking at Sami, “Though I’m not really needed since there’s just you, Nick.”

Nick’s brows pinch together subtly in confusion, still fully aware that he’s being filmed. “How do you-”

“Don’t play stupid with me now, boy. You’re at the top of the Academy list and your brother is standing right over there. Everyone knows who you are. Why do you think no one else volunteered? Mm?” he nods curtly. “You’ve got big shoes to fill, Mr Nelson.”

When Mr Farouk says the ‘v’ word out loud, the reality of what Nick has just done begins to set in. He’s spent his entire life resenting the Games and the Capitol, refusing to be a stupid pawn in their ridiculous game of chess and so far he’s succeeded. And yet, here he is on the stage in front of all of Panem, becoming the official male tribute for District 2.

I bet the fucking sadists of this country are eating it all up.

As Mr Farouk walks towards the microphone, Nick squats down and firmly grabs Sami by his shoulders. The physical contact seems to snap Sami out of whatever trance he's in, and when their eyes meet, Sami's are welling up with tears. It reminds Nick so much of Sahar that it fucking hurts. In that moment, he’s briefly transported back to when he helped Sahar bandage her knuckles and all Nick wants to do is take all of Sahar and Sami’s pain away. 

This is as close as it gets.

“You need to go find your sister,” Nick states firmly. Sami starts to shake his head.

“No,” he says, his voice cracking.

“Sami, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. You need to go and find her and you need to do it now.” 

Sami reaches forward and hugs Nick, but now is not the time for Nick to show any weakness. This recording will be shown to all the other tributes, allowing them to size him up and scrutinise him. Right now, he needs to be the strong and daring Nick Nelson that Panem is expecting him to be – what all his classmates are expecting him to be. Nick pats Sami briefly before pulling back, cutting the hug short and slightly shoving Sami to get him to move into action. The younger boy looks up at him before running off the stage. Nick manages to catch a glimpse of Sahar embracing Sami before the spotlight blinds him once again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m proud to announce your District Two tributes, Cassia Sharpe and Nicholas Nelson!” Imogen chirps. “Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!”

Nick turns to look at his partner, Cassia Sharpe, and he extends a hand out. The audience bursts into cheers, applauding as they shake hands; Nick can see David in the background, hollering and clapping along with a smug look on his face. Nick lets go of Cassia’s hand and they both turn to look out at the crowd of other people. He straightens his back and chooses to mirror David’s smug look, inwardly cringing at himself as he does. If the people of Panem want a show, he’s going to give them one they won’t forget.

And afterwards, he plans on burning the entire establishment to the fucking ground.

***

Once the reaping ceremony is finished, Nick and Cassia are led inside the Town Hall. He manages to catch one glimpse of her before they’re separated, Cassia being led into a room that’s on the opposite side of the building. The panic that’s swirling around in his chest makes him feel light, like a balloon, as everything that’s just happened replays in his mind. The morning he’d spent in the field, the walk back to town with Sahar, assaulting a Peacekeeper, and Sam's tear-filled eyes watching him – all culminated in a tumultuous mix. The too-smug look on David's face adds to the overwhelming thoughts.

What the fuck have I done?

The Peacekeepers open a grand door, shoving Nick in, which causes him to stumble. They close the door behind him as he catches himself on the arm of a chair. He hadn't anticipated them being that rough with him, but then again, he reminds himself that he did assault several Peacekeepers. If he hadn't volunteered, he'd likely be facing a public whipping by now. Nick straightens himself up, staring around the circular room as he tries to compose himself. The room, unlike the usual square design, resembles a birdcage, with two large stone pillars flanking the oak door and four more pillars spread across the walls. Arched windows between the pillars offer glimpses of his home and the surrounding mountains from every angle. The inescapable view taunts him, serving as a constant reminder of what he has willingly just given up.

He can feel the tears escape him now as he sits down in the chair he almost fell over. He wipes them quickly, sniffling as his knee begins to shake with anxiety. He was so close, so fucking close to being free. The odds had been in his favour so far, hadn’t they? He’d managed to escape every reaping unscathed up until now. He’d been so close to freedom, akin to the birds he had seen earlier that morning, and then Fate raised her bow and shot him down. Yes, he had hoped that someday he would get to be like a bird.

Being hunted and put in a cage like one was not what he had in mind.

The doors barge open and Nick stands up, looking over his shoulder. David walks in, his lips curling into the same kind of smile he wore during his own Games; the smile he used when he was closing in on prey. 

“Well done, Nicholas!” he says with a loud clap of his hands before running them through his slicked back hair. “I always figured you would choose a dramatic way to volunteer but that? Bloody brilliant, mate! You’ll have the Capitol eating from your palm in no time. Of course, my Games helped give you that advantage. They absolutely loved me, so I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

Nick’s nose scrunches up, and it takes every ounce of his self restraint to not beat the smugness out of his brother. He tucks his hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes and deciding to say nothing. David doesn’t seem to notice as he walks the entire area of the room once, coming to a stop right in front of Nick.

“Look at me,” David says, his tone shifting from light to serious. Nick’s eyes snap up and David takes a step back. “Before you go into the arena, you’ll be training. You’re going to want to sweeten everyone up and make as many allies as you can. You’re a likeable person, it runs in our blood. You need to hold hands, sing kumbaya, bake bread together, and everything in between.” He swipes his hand flatly in the air, Nick watching its movement.

“However, once you’re in the arena?” David’s hand turns from flat and laid out to a clenched fist. “You kill every last one of them. One by one, whether you do it in battle or while they aren’t looking. I don’t care who they are or if they save your life. You can thank them with a sharp knife to the abdomen. Understood?” David arches an eyebrow. Nick’s lips twist into a tight line but he nods curtly, not wanting to waste the energy he does have on someone who isn’t worth it. Especially not someone like David. “I’ll do the best I can to get in touch with sponsors that I know. We’ll take care of you from the outside, you just need to take care of yourself while you're in there.”

“David, I don’t want your help in the arena,” Nick starts but his voice comes to a halt at the look of anger that runs across David’s face.

“I’m sorry,” David laughs coldly, holding his hand up to his ear, “I don’t think I heard you properly. What?” 

“I want you to help Sahar and Sami instead of me,” he replies calmly. David searches his face, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t do charity work,” David states, crossing his arms, “She’s been following you around like a kicked puppy since the Academy, and look at where it’s gotten you. Volunteering for a pathetic kid instead of someone worthy! That’s your problem, not mine.”

“David, if I don’t win-”

David interrupts Nick’s words with his fists gripping the collar of Nick’s shirt. With ease, his brother lifts him off the ground slightly, leaving only his tiptoes in contact. A darkness clouds David’s eyes, pupils shrinking to pinpricks from the sunlight pouring through the window. Nick's breath catches in his throat, and his hands clutch at David's wrists in an attempt to move them, but they remain as stiff as rock.

“You are going to win,” David whispers, and while it should be words of encouragement, the tone he uses makes them sound like a threat. “You’re going to win because you’re my brother and if you die, I’ll be the bloody laughingstock of the Capitol! Do you want to put our family name to shame? Do you want Mum to watch you die?” He lets go of Nick’s collar then, smoothing the lapels of his annoyingly vibrant blue jacket. Nick fumbles backwards, fixing the crumpled lines on his own shirt with frustration. 

“I don’t give a shit if you die, personally. I’m all set and our parents are too, thanks to me. However, what I do care about is our family name. I put meaning behind our name and I’m not going to let you just throw it away over some childish self-doubt!” David snaps with a scowl.

“It’s so nice to know where your priorities are,” Nick spits out, crossing his arms. “If I’m going to win, it won’t be to save your pathetic reputation! Victor or not, you don’t have a say in how I’m going to play.”

“If you don’t do what I tell you, you aren’t going to win. And losing isn’t an option!” David hisses in a loud whisper. He inhales deeply, trying to compose himself before continuing in a calmer voice, “I’m trying to help you-”

“I don’t need your fucking help, David!” Nick shouts, not worried about trying to keep quiet. “And if you won’t help Sahar or Sami, then you don’t need to stay here any longer. I have nothing else to say to you.”

David’s eyes squint and his lips purse. “You just wait until you’re in the arena,” he says, poking Nick square in the chest. “You think you know what it’s like because you’ve watched the Games your whole life. You think you know exactly what you'd do in a situation, but once you step inside that dome?” David points at one of the windows, “None of the outside world matters anymore. There are no laws… No rules… Nothing. It's No Man’s Land inside that arena. Twenty-four tributes go in and one comes out. The only lifeline you have is those who sponsor you.” 

“Goodbye, David,” Nick says in an even tone, turning his back and walking towards the window. He hears David scoff behind him followed by receding footsteps. He hears the door handle jiggle and swing open but before David leaves, his voice breaks the silence of the air.

“Either you come home a winner or you don’t come back at all. Not even in a coffin.”

Nick winces as the door slams shut, a deep breath escaping him. He gets about two seconds to let his mind reel before the door opens again. He doesn’t turn around this time, trying to hold his tears at bay. He’s successful until he feels a warm hand touch his shoulder. 

His gaze shifts down and locks with his mother’s glassy eyes, a warm smile on her lips. All the anger Nick had just felt from David melts away in an instant, and he exhales sharply as he envelops her in a hug.

“Mum,” he whispers, his voice cracking, “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I did this to you.”

“Shh,” his mother whispers as she rubs soothing circles along the top of his back. “Darling, you have nothing to apologise for. Come, let’s sit, hm? You must be so tired of standing and, well… We both know you’re about to do a lot more of it, don’t we?” she chuckles sadly and the sound only breaks Nick more. She leads him to the sofa, her hand on his thigh as she studies his face. 

“I didn’t mean to put you through this again,” Nick whispers in a tight voice, a tear escaping him. Her hand reaches up to cup his face, her thumb wiping the tear away. 

“Nicky, I know,” she replies, “but this isn’t your fault.” She looks around then, studying the room and glancing back at the door before her eyes flicker back to Nick. “We both know who’s really to blame for all of this.”

Nick can’t help the small smile that forms on his face at the spark of mischief in her eyes. While his dad had always been very supportive of the Capitol and in turn, the Games, Nick knows that he got his rebellious spark from his mother. She was never shy to speak out against either of them in the safety of their home, though her outspokenness died once they moved to the Victor’s Village. Nick reaches up to encircle his fingers around her delicate wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t want you to watch the Games,” Nick says with a slight shake of his head, “I don’t want you to see the things I’ll have to do.”

“You know that’s not possible, darling. I don’t care what you have to do in there, I just…” she pauses and for the first time since David volunteered, Nick sees a single tear escape her eyes. “I want you to promise me one thing. Do you think you can do that?” she asks.

“Anything,” he whispers. Her lips press into another warm smile and she nods quickly.

“Don’t lose yourself in there, Nicholas,” she says softly before leaning closer to add, “Don’t let them win.”

Nick feels his lower lip begin to tremble, suddenly transported back to the vulnerability of an eight-year-old instead of an eighteen-year-old. He pulls her in for a bear hug, inhaling her flowery perfume until he can no longer fit the air in his lungs. She cups the back of his head, her nails softly scratching his scalp as he begins to sob into her shoulder. 

“I promise I won’t,” he replies in a scratchy voice. They fall silent for a moment and the next words that escape him are against his will. “I’m scared, Mum.”

“I know, baby,” she says, her voice muddled with her own tears, “It’s okay to be scared. That’s what makes you human. But I also know that you have a good head on your shoulders and a good heart,” she sniffs as she pulls back to cup either side of Nick’s face once more. Nick doesn't meet her eyes at first, having to blink away a few tears until the silence lingers for too long, and he finally looks at her. She rewards him with a dazzling smile before placing a kiss on his forehead, pausing for a moment. “I’m proud to call you my son, Nicholas. I need you to know that whatever I see you do in the Games… It won’t make me love you any less or be any less proud. You do what you need to to survive. Whatever that may look like. Alright?” she asks, and Nick nods in response. He inhales with a quivering breath as Sarah helps him regain a normal breathing pattern.

“Mum, can you promise me something?” he whispers.

“Of course, darling. Whatever you need,” she replies.

“Please, do what you can to help Sahar and her brother. We’re all they have left and if I don’t-”

“You act like I wasn’t going to do that anyway,” Sarah chuckles. A flood of relief washes over him at her words and he pulls her in for another hug. “Sahar is like the daughter I never got to have, and that little Sami is such a kind young boy. I promise you, I’ll take care of them.”

Nick nods before whispering, “Honestly, if I could trade David for both of them, I would.”

Sarah slaps Nick’s arm playfully. “Nicholas Nelson!” she scolds but she’s giggling as she does so. Nick leans back to see her shaking her head. While she’s trying to catch her breath, he’s trying to memorise her laughter and the way her eyes crinkle in the sunlight. She bites her lip with a sigh, seemingly debating on what she’s about to say. “Between you and me, I think they’d make a great addition to our family,” she adds with a wink. Nick hums at her response and he’s about to say something when the door opens. They both look up to see a Peacekeeper walking in.

“Time’s up,” he says gruffly. The calmness and warmth Nick was feeling plunges downwards as he looks back at his mother. She gives him a reassuring smile, squeezing his arm before standing up. 

“I love you,” she says, tears forming in her eyes. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, alright? I will watch every second until the Games end and you come home.” 

“I love you too, Mum,” he replies, fully aware of the double meaning to her words. While she didn't explicitly mention the morbid aspect, he knows she'll watch until he either becomes the victor or takes his final breath. The thought of her being there with him is comforting either way. He gives her one more quick hug, not wanting to let go but doing so anyway and walks her to the door, his stomach dropping further and further with each step. They give each other a final look, his mother placing a hand on his cheek, before bowing her head gracefully towards the Peacekeepers and walking off.

The doors close in front of Nick and once again, he’s standing alone in the room. A chill runs over him at the realisation that this may be the last time he sees her. His throat dries as he idly licks his lips, spinning on his foot and beginning to pace. Several minutes pass before the door opens again, causing Nick to glance up. He's expecting to see a Peacekeeper telling him it's time to go, but instead, his eyes land on Sahar, with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She walks over, pulling Nick in for a hug. Nick hugs her back, resting his cheek on her head.

“You fucking idiot,” she laughs sadly, squeezing his waist, “You were so close to being free.”

“You and I both know I couldn’t let Sami just go up,” he mutters. Sahar pulls back, wiping her eyes.

“Yeah but I’m sure there would’ve been volunteers either way,” she sniffles. Her hair is no longer in pigtails, instead resting in wavy locks on her shoulders as she tucks a stray strand behind her ear. Nick bites his lip with a shake of his head.

“I just saw his face and then I saw how you were being treated and my mind blanked. All I know is you couldn’t lose him and neither could I. You two are part of our family, and I know that’s something that neither of us have a lot of,” he replies with a weak attempt of a smile.

“Thank you,” Sahar says softly. Nick nods, wanting to cry but too exhausted at this point to produce anymore tears.

“My mum is going to take care of you two,” he says, “She’s going to make sure you and Sami are set up regardless of what happens to me.”

“You mean until you come home,” Sahar corrects him. “Nick, don’t act like you’re some weakling. You know your strengths and so do I. We’ve been training together for over a decade. I’ve seen you and I know you can win. You just… You’ll have to put your moral compass to the side. It’s not easy but for once, you need to be selfish. If it’s between you or them, you need to pick you. Alright?” 

“Alright,” Nick promises. They stand there for a moment and Nick looks down at their feet. “In case anything does happen-”

“Nick…” Sahar warns but Nick continues.

“I need to say this because everyone is expecting me to come home, and I can’t just go with the risk of leaving things unsaid!” he snaps before exhaling deeply, lowering his head. “Sorry.”

Sahar playfully punches his arm. “Don’t be. You’re right.”

Nick wishes he could argue with her about how wrong he truly is but he knows that the time they have is limited. He gives her a sad smile. “I want to thank you for your friendship, first of all. For letting me be my true self and for giving me a safe space to mature in a way that isn’t formed by the Capitol,” he adds with exasperation, noticing the way Sahar winces at the mention of the Capitol.

Fuck it, they’re already going to kill me. What else do I have to lose?

“And if I do die, I want you to tell my mum that I love her and I’m proud to have her as my mum, too. Tell Sami I’m sorry, and he can take anything he wants out of my room. Oh, and please, for the love of God, tell David to piss off!”

Sahar breaks into a fit of giggles and Nick follows suit, a few more tears escaping both of them. “Anything else, Your Royal Highness?” Sahar asks with a half smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Nick nibbles on his lower lip nervously and nods, looking out the window. He can see faint outlines of two birds, causing his heart to hang heavy.

“Yeah,” he says in a choked voice, glancing back at her, “If I die, you have to name your first born after me,” he says with a grin because he’ll be damned if he leaves District 2 on a sad note. 

“What if it’s a girl?” Sahar quips back, raising an eyebrow.

“I think Nicole would make a fantastic name for a girl,” Nick replies thoughtfully. 

“Alright, alright, Nicole it is,” Sahar snorts, shaking her head but when she looks back at him, her face falls. 

“Thank you for everything, Nick,” she murmurs. They hug again and stand there for a few moments, the silence encasing them like an uncomfortable blanket. All too soon, the doors are opening and the Peacekeeper walks in. 

“You need to leave now. The train will be here in five minutes,” he says. Sahar looks over at him before glancing at Nick. 

“Goodbye,” Sahar says with a shaky voice. Nick gives her the most comforting smile he can manage.

“Bye,” he whispers. Sahar inhales deeply and walks out. The Peacekeeper stands by Nick, jerking his head to the side to signal for Nick to start moving. He puts on his mask of bravado once more, walking out of the room with two Peacekeepers behind him and two Peacekeepers leading the way. As they near the back of the building towards the train tracks, Cassia appears alongside Nick. He feels her eyes on him but the only acknowledgement he gives her is a tight smile. The doors open in front of them and as expected, the train is slowing down along the tracks. As they step outside, cameras begin to flash all around them. Nick doesn’t make eye contact with a single reporter as the train comes to a squealing halt, preferring to stare forward with his jaw set stoically. The doors open, and Nick extends his arms for Cassia to go first. Once he steps up, Imogen makes them stand there so the photographers can get even more pictures of the shiny new tributes from District 2. 

As if the first hundred weren’t enough, Nick thinks bitterly.

Once they’ve gotten about fifty photos or so, the two of them are allowed further inside and the doors close behind them. Nick’s shoulders relax minutely as he takes in his surroundings. Imogen is sitting at a table, looking in her compact mirror and fluffing up her wig, while another woman is sitting on a sofa underneath a train window. He recognises her instantly as the same woman that was next to David on the stage. Cassia nudges Nick’s arm before nodding her head towards the table, silently signalling that they should move forward. The train begins to move at once, causing Nick to stumble backwards slightly, but as he finds his footing, he chooses to stand in the entranceway. He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe with crossed legs while Cassia grabs a plate and starts dishing up some food for herself.

The ‘click’ of Imogen’s compact mirror interrupts the silence lingering in the car as she looks up between Nick and Cassia. “Marvellous show, you two!” she grins. “I haven’t been touched like that in ages. Nick, the way you volunteered for that young boy-”

“Don’t talk about him,” Nick states coldly, causing Imogen’s smile to falter. “I’m here, not him.”

“Your brother’s reputation precedes you,” the woman by the window says in a suave voice. She turns to look over her shoulder, her gold eyes meeting Nick’s. They almost look prosthetic and Nick idly ponders the thought that maybe they are.

“Excuse me?” Nick asks, his arms falling to his side as he stands straight.

The woman shrugs, standing up from her spot and walking over towards him swiftly, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “You heard me.”

Nick stares down at her, wondering how someone who’s almost an entire foot shorter than him could be so bold, before remembering that she’s the victor that’s going to train them. She looks up at him with a calculating gaze, the smallest glimpse of pearly white teeth appearing. They stare at each other, holding some unspoken staring contest as if sizing each other up. 

“I’m not my brother,” Nick says finally.

“Well you better get used to hearing that because it’s going to be said about you and to you a lot,” she replies without blinking. Nick has to fight the urge to squirm under her gaze.

“You’re our mentor, right?” Cassia asks through a mouth full of bread. Nick notices the way Imogen looks at her disapprovingly. 

“Manners, Cassia! It’s so impolite talking with your mouth full,” Imogen scolds. The woman in front of Nick doesn’t look back at Cassia when she nods, her eyes fixated on him.

“Yes, I am. I’m Tara,” she says neutrally. “I won the 70th Hunger Games, thanks to the guidance of your brother. I cannot express how eager I am to return the favour.” 

Chapter Text

Charlie breathes in deeply for two steps, then releases it with another two. His pace is steady and he feels comfortable as he runs through the withering forest and fields of District 12. As he reaches the barbed wire fence, he slows down to a walk and heads back home. After squeezing through a hole in the fence, he turns to face the early morning summer sun. It’s perfectly warm, accompanied by a gentle breeze that ruffles his hair. It’s moments like these that Charlie loves the most. He’s able to disappear from reality, feel somewhat at peace and breathe properly. Running helps him relax, especially when he’s more anxious than usual. 

He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to go back to the centre. It’s rough out there. Everyone looks miserable, like they’re on autopilot as they go about their day. The men of the district are constantly covered in soot and residue thanks to the mines. The women look after their children as best as they can, trying to keep them happy while they learn pointless skills at school. They try to keep their husbands happy with the minimal supplies from the Capitol that get distributed to everyone. Charlie has seen a change in everyone in recent years. He has wondered if people are growing tired of how the Capitol controls Panem, but nobody has ever had the courage to do anything about it. 

So yeah, it’s not hard to figure out why Charlie isn’t too enthusiastic to rush back to the main part of the district. 

But today is the day of the reaping. He must go no matter what. And this year, he has to be there for Olly, as it's Olly's first time entering the reaping lottery.

Charlie is scared shitless. Mainly for Olly but also for himself and for Tori. Their parents passed away a few years ago. Their dad died first in a mining accident, which was becoming more and more regular in the district. Then, two years later, their mum got sick, and they couldn’t figure out how to help her. The three siblings have only had each other since then. They promised their parents, especially their mother on her deathbed, to look after each other, and Tori and Charlie promised each other to look after Olly. 

Luckily, a few of the district elders and other families helped them get sorted when they were adjusting to their new lives as orphans. They took the siblings under their wings, teaching Tori how to cook, how to do household chores, and how to survive. It was hard. Charlie was barely ten at the time – Tori was twelve – so he did have some idea as to what was going on, but Olly…

Olly was only eight. 

He was confused, asking where their mum was nearly every night. It broke Charlie and Tori’s hearts. Charlie often ended up holding onto Tori at night as she sobbed into his arms, asking no one in particular why everything had happened to them. 

That’s when Tori realised that she had to ask to submit more entries for the Games in exchange for grain and oil. As soon as Charlie turned twelve, he did the same. They agreed to keep this information from Olly – they would not let him do the same. Olly deserves to live, so the less chance he has at being chosen for the Games, the better. 

When Charlie reaches their house, he sees Tori through the window in her reaping outfit with her black hair tied into neat plaits on both sides of her head. She’s helping Olly into his shirt, and Charlie can see her holding back her emotions with a tight expression on her face.

He pushes through the door and heads straight to the living room. 

“I managed to save enough water for you,” Tori says to him as she finishes tucking Olly’s shirt into his beige trousers. “It’s in the back room.” 

“Thanks,” Charlie replies quietly. 

He makes quick work of washing his face and neck, as well as all the sweaty parts of his body thanks to his run. As he dries himself, he notices his folded clothes on the bed – the same clothes he has worn since he was twelve. He smiles at the thought of Tori setting them out for him, just as she’s done every year, despite him now being seventeen. 

A few minutes later, he emerges fully dressed and sees Olly sitting on the steps outside the door. The little boy is hunched over, hugging his knees, staring at two dogs playfully fighting over a bone in the distance. 

“Hey, little mouse,” Charlie says and comes to sit next to Olly. 

The nickname causes Olly to smile, and his shoulders relax slightly. 

“You okay?” Charlie continues. 

“Nervous,” Olly replies in a small voice.

“That’s okay. I’m nervous too,” Charlie says comfortingly, gently nudging his shoulder into Olly’s. “But, just keep in mind, your name is only going in once. The likelihood of your name being picked is very slim.” 

Olly looks up at Charlie with watery eyes and nods. “Can you help me tie my shoelaces?”

Charlie huffs out a gentle laugh. “Sure.” 

Charlie shuffles onto a lower step and twists his legs so that he can prop Olly’s feet up to tie the laces. 

Just as he finishes the last knot, Tori comes out looking a little bit paler than normal. “Come on, we need to go,” she says with a wobble in her voice. 

“Tori!” 

The three turn their heads to see a very dirty-looking man running over to them. 

Charlie looks at Tori just in time to see her eyes grow wide and a slight blush appear on her cheeks. 

“Michael,” she replies once the man reaches their house. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to say good luck to you,” Michael pants. “I ran from the mines because I thought I was going to miss you.” 

“Oh, right,” she simply says. 

Charlie clears his throat and looks at his sister quizzically. 

She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Michael, these are my brothers, Charlie and Olly.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie says with a smile and a wave. Olly just stands closer to Charlie, gripping onto his hand tightly. “We’ve heard nothing about you.” 

Surprisingly, Michael laughs. “Sounds like Tori.” 

“Well… um, we need to go soon so…” Tori trails off. 

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up. “Right, yes! Um, good luck, to all three of you. I’ll be there, watching. Maybe we could hang out after?” He directs the question to Tori but then looks at Charlie and Olly. “Maybe we could get to know each other too?” 

“Sounds good.” Charlie smiles. Then, he looks down at Olly and squeezes his hand. “Come on, let’s go. Tori can catch up.” 

They begin walking in silence with Olly’s grip getting even tighter by the second. So, Charlie looks over his shoulder to see if Tori had started walking yet, but instead is met with a surprising sight. 

Tori and Michael. Kissing.

That is unexpected.

Charlie whips his head back around, feeling weird about accidentally witnessing a private moment.

Not that private if it’s in public though, is it?

Finally, Tori catches up with them, breathing heavily as she has to jog her way over. 

“So, is Michael a friend?” Charlie teases.

“He’s… someone,” Tori replies vaguely. 

Charlie glances over at his sister and then snorts when he sees a black mark on her cheek, presumably where Michael’s hand was a few seconds earlier. 

“Right.” Charlie nods. “You’ve got something on your cheek, by the way.” 

Tori’s eyes widen again, and she stops to wipe at her face. 

Charlie laughs and also stops, pulling Olly along with him as he goes to help. 

“Let me,” he says softly. 

Tori groans but acquiesces, keeping her gaze locked onto something in the distance. Charlie licks his thumb and gets most of the soot off her face. Tori sends him a look of disgust.

“Sorry, but there aren't many other options,” Charlie says. 

“If I don’t get reaped, I might actually kill Michael myself,” Tori mumbles. 

“No, you won’t,” Charlie argues. 

Tori’s hard exterior falters and she shakes her head. “No, I won’t.” 

Once Charlie deems Tori’s face clean again, Olly starts walking first. Charlie goes to reach for his hand, but then, Tori pulls him back by his wrist.

Charlie turns to look at her. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll look after him,” she says sternly, glancing at their little brother for a second. 

“Of course I will, Tori. You know I will,” Charlie replies, feeling a bit confused as to why she would think any different. 

She pulls her lips into a tight line and raises an eyebrow. “Whatever it takes to keep him safe, right?” The knowing look she gives Charlie sends a shiver down his spine. 

Oh. 

“Whatever it takes,” Charlie replies with a nod. 

They squeeze each other’s hands once before turning to catch up with Olly. The walk to the town square feels longer than normal. When they start to merge with other children from the district, Olly is quick to slip his hand into Charlie’s. Charlie glances down and sees the anxiety and worry written all over his little face. Charlie says nothing, only rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of Olly’s hand. 

When they see the first row of Peacekeepers, Charlie feels a tug on his hand. Olly has stopped and is looking more terrified than ever. 

“Hey, it’s okay. They won’t hurt you,” Charlie says soothingly, crouching to Olly’s height. “They just tell us where to go.”

“They just stand and point,” Tori adds.

After a few moments, Olly’s breathing calms down and he wipes the stray tears off of his face. 

“I need to go over there,” Tori says, motioning towards the forming crowd of girls. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?” 

Olly throws himself into Tori’s arms and she squeezes his body against her own as she whispers a few words into his ear. Then, she straightens up and turns to Charlie. Charlie steps forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders. 

“Remember what I said,” Tori says quietly. “I love you, Charlie.” 

“I love you, too,” Charlie replies. 

He takes Olly’s hand again as they watch their big sister fall into step with the other older girls from the district. 

Charlie leads Olly over to a registration station closer to his age group, so that he’s alone for a smaller amount of time. They part with a painful last hug, with Charlie whispering comforting words of “you can do it” and “I love you” into Olly’s ear. 

Charlie tries to keep an eye on his little brother for as long as he can, to make sure that he gets in without any problems. However, he loses sight of him after he registers, so all he can do is pray that nothing bad happens as he is called up to get his finger pricked and blood scanned. He is cleared to go through and barely acknowledges the Peacekeeper as he swiftly makes his way forward, continuously looking for his brother. Once in line in the square, he turns his head and spots Olly near the front, pulling at a loose thread of his sleeve. 

He’ll be okay, Charlie tells himself, and turns back to face the stage.

As more children arrive, he begins to look around his section for a familiar flop of black hair belonging to his best friend Tao. He strains his neck left, right and in any direction possible, but doesn’t see him at all. Charlie concludes that Tao must be further back or is running late – it wouldn’t be the first time. 

The whole square is quiet, with only the sound of feet walking on the gravel and stones as the possible tributes of District 12 get into place. All Charlie can do is look at the stage and wait. 

Soon enough, government officials and previous victors – or rather, victor, in this case – walk out on stage with a few Peacekeepers. 

Then finally, out walks the district escort, Rebecca Allen. Her outfit is outrageous – bright colours that clash, decorated with random flowers and other nature-related objects. Her purple hair is tied up in an elaborate bun, with the same flowers braided throughout. Seeing her on stage is enough to make Charlie’s head hurt, so when she takes over the entire screen, well… he has to look away for a moment. 

“Welcome, welcome!” Rebecca says loudly into the microphone, causing Charlie to flinch slightly. 

Rebecca looks around the square with a wide grin and addresses everyone again. “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!” Her giggle is high pitched and sharp.

It gets worse every year. 

“Now, before we begin, we have something special to show you. All the way from the Capitol!” she says in a singsong voice. She moves to the side and gestures at the big screen as loud ceremonial music begins to play.

They show this film every single year. Charlie practically knows it off the top of his head, thanks to watching previous reapings on district TVs when he was younger, as well as the ones he’s attended. It shows a dramatic story of Panem’s history, how previous tributes have fought for their districts, how the rebellion happened and caused Panem to create the Hunger Games, how tributes fight and sacrifice themselves for honour and to ensure the peace of the future. 

It’s a load of shit. It makes Charlie feel sick.

With the final chord, Charlie dares to look up at the stage again and sees Rebecca dabbing away supposed tears with a handkerchief, making sure she hasn’t ruined her ostentatious makeup.

“Isn’t that so inspiring?” she sighs into the microphone. She puts the handkerchief away in her little bag, and when she faces the square again, her face has reset into her over-exaggerated happy grin.

“Now, the time has come to select our two brave tributes who will compete in the 74th Annual Hunger Games!”

She’s met with silence, but her smile never falters.

“As always, ladies first!” 

Her hand hovers over the glass bowl filled with small slips of paper, her fingers dancing elegantly as she lowers them into the bowl. 

Finally, her fingers disappear for a second, then reappear with a piece of paper in her hand. She turns back to the microphone, excitement glimmering in her eyes. She takes her time to open the paper slip and clears her throat once finished. 

“Juniper Cannon!” 

Nobody moves. Nobody makes a sound. It’s completely silent. 

Charlie swallows as he sees Juniper appear on the screen with her mousy brown hair tied back in a neat low bun, brown eyes wide and scared, her shoulders tense. Freckles decorate her nose which flares slightly as she breathes. The camera follows her as she takes tentative steps towards the stage. Charlie can see her whole body visibly shaking in her faded yellow, almost beige, dress as she reaches the stairs that lead to the stage. His heart aches for her. She looks similar to Olly’s age and yet, nobody cries for her.

Charlie flicks his gaze back to Rebecca, who is holding an arm out towards Juniper, as if inviting her into a home for afternoon tea with that same sinister smile. 

Rebecca guides her by the shoulders to stand next to the microphone. “Wonderful. Let’s have a round of applause for your first tribute!” 

Only Rebecca and the few government officials bring their hands together for a very, very short clap. 

Charlie has to hold back a scoff. 

“And now, for the boys!” Rebecca continues. 

Her hands do the same dance over the other bowl before plunging into the papers. She walks back over to the microphone, paper in hand, ready to be opened. 

Charlie feels his heart rate speed up and thump harder against his ribcage. 

Deep breaths. It’ll be fine. Deep-

“Oliver Spring!” 

Charlie stops breathing. His eyes snap to the screen to see the face of his little brother looking petrified. 

No, no, no, no. Not Olly. Out of all of the entries, Olly only has one. How did he get chosen? 

Time slows down. All Charlie does is stare at the screen as the town waits for Olly to move. 

Then, he looks to his left and he sees the Peacekeepers walk towards Olly, grabbing him roughly by his arm and practically dragging him forward, forcing him to walk towards the stage. As they reach the makeshift aisle in between the hundreds of children and teenagers, Charlie finds himself pushing his way through his line. 

“Olly!” Charlie cries out. 

Olly turns his head to look at Charlie, tears already streaming down his face. 

Charlie suddenly feels his body being pulled back as one of the Peacekeepers grabs him. “No!” he shouts. “Olly!”

Then, he hears Tori’s voice echo in his mind. 

Look after him. 

The reminder of his promise to Tori kicks Charlie’s body into gear, and he’s moving before he can process what’s happening. “I volunteer!” Charlie shouts. His voice cracks at the end with the pain and fear coursing through his body. 

The whole square seems to come to a standstill as people turn to look at Charlie with surprise, sadness and nervousness obvious on their faces.

“I volunteer as tribute,” Charlie projects, his voice more steady than before. 

The Peacekeepers let go of him immediately. The others holding Olly pause as well. 

“Oh!” Rebecca exclaims, seemingly excited by the whole ordeal. “This is… quite the development! District Twelve’s first ever volunteer!” She pauses, as if expecting another round of applause. “Well then, up you come!”

Charlie takes a deep breath before taking his first steps closer towards the stage. Behind him, he hears footsteps approaching him, so he turns to see Olly running towards him. He falls to his knees and lets Olly crash into him. He feels Olly’s tears seep through his shirt and all the way into his skin.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charlie whispers into his ear, carding a gentle hand through Olly’s hair. “You’re safe now, okay?” He takes a deep breath and tries to memorise everything about this hug, knowing it will probably be one of the last that they share.

“But you’re not,” Olly sobs, pulling Charlie’s shirt tighter in his hands. 

“I know. I’m sorry, but I have to protect you,” Charlie explains. “I love you so much.” Charlie reluctantly pulls back and holds Olly’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Go and find Tori, okay?” 

Olly starts to cry harder, but nods anyway. A Peacekeeper guides Olly by the shoulder, much gentler than before. Charlie stands up and fixes his shirt as best as he can before being guided to the stage by three Peacekeepers.

He reaches the stairs leading to the stage, keeping his back straight and eyes down as he climbs them. When he reaches the top, he glances up to see Rebecca facing him, her grin almost too wide to fit her face. She reaches a hand out to him, beckoning him closer. 

He slowly approaches her, hands forming closed fists by his side. Rebecca awkwardly wraps her arm around Charlie when he’s near enough, pushing him face first into the big assortment of fake flowers perched on her shoulders. They smell of sweet and sickly perfume. It makes Charlie’s stomach turn.

“And what’s your name?” she asks, microphone right next to her lips. 

“Charlie Spring,” Charlie replies coldly, eyes focused on the unmoving crowd before flicking back to Rebecca.

Rebecca’s eyes grow wide, and for a moment, Charlie sees a bit of sympathy appear on her face, but she covers it up well as she turns to the crowd and the cameras once again.

“How wonderful!” she announces. “Volunteering for his little brother. What a story this will be!”

She is met with silence. Unfazed, she keeps smiling and takes a deep breath. Then slowly, people lift their hands and press their middle three fingers to their lips, before raising the arms above their head.

Charlie tries his best to contain his emotions. The entire district is saying, ‘goodbye, you are brave, we admire you and we will support you until the end’. He has to take a moment to gasp for air as it feels like he has forgotten how to breathe. Just as he inhales, Rebecca begins to speak once more.

“Well, here are your tributes for District Twelve!” 

Charlie glances at the other tribute, her hand is already out, shaking slightly as she tries to calm her breathing. He quickly reaches out to grasp it and feels how clammy her palm is. The handshake doesn't last very long, and they turn back to face the people of District 12. 

“Happy Hunger Games!” Rebecca calls into the microphone. “May the odds be ever in your favour.”

***

Charlie was quickly escorted backstage and now finds himself standing in a cold barren room, left with no instruction. He takes a seat on a rickety looking chair that creaks with his weight as he sits down. He blinks slowly, almost in shock with everything that has happened in the past hour. He forces himself to breathe, in and out, in and out… but then he feels the pressure in his eyes, tears threatening to spill over, so he closes them.

Suddenly, the door bangs open, and Charlie’s head jerks up to see Tori and Olly running towards him. He stands up and meets them halfway, somehow managing to pull them both into a bone crushing hug at the same time. 

All three of them start to cry, with Tori sniffling into Charlie’s neck and Olly pressing his wet face into Charlie’s stomach. 

Eventually, he pulls back to look at his siblings. He locks eyes with Tori. She has tears streaming down her face and her lips form a sad smile. 

“Tori, I-” 

“I know,” she interrupts. “I know.”

She pulls Charlie in for another hug. “Thank you,” she whispers into his ear. 

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” he replies. “I just didn’t expect it to happen.” He tries to joke, but it just comes out with a sob. 

Tori pulls back with a heavy sigh, eyes darting all over Charlie’s face as if she’s trying to commit the sight of him to memory. He hasn’t seen her this emotional since their mother died. She wipes at her face with her palms, her tight smile returning, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Charlie turns back to Olly again, ending up in the same position they were in at the reaping. 

“Why did you do that?” Olly asks in a small voice. 

“Because it’s my job as your big brother to look after you, to protect you. I love you too much to let you go up there,” Charlie replies, taking Olly’s hands in his. 

“Try and win so you can come back home?” 

Charlie cracks a sad smile. “I’ll try my best. I promise.” 

The three share one last hug, before Tori takes Olly’s hand in hers and looks at Charlie, possibly for the last time, Charlie realises with dread. He watches as they leave, sharing one last tearful look with Tori before she disappears and the door closes. Charlie shuts his eyes and he feels his body lose all strength. He blindly puts his hands out, catching himself on the wall as a sob escapes him.

A few seconds later, he hears the door open again, more gently this time. Charlie opens his eyes and turns his head to see Tao, dishevelled and visibly broken. 

Tao runs to Charlie, who immediately wraps his arms around his best friend. 

“I’m sorry, Tao. I’m so sorry,” Charlie mumbles into his neck. 

“No, you don’t have to be sorry,” Tao replies immediately. “I know why you did it.”

“Please look after them. Please do everything you can to make sure they’re okay. Please love them for me,” Charlie practically begs.

“I will.” Tao nods against Charlie’s neck. “I promise. But, it’s okay because you’ll be able to do that yourself when you win.” 

“Tao.” Charlie rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows at his best friend. “Come on.” 

“Charlie,” Tao’s voice wobbles and fresh tears appear in his eyes. “I can’t lose you. We can’t lose you.” 

“I know,” Charlie sobs and sniffs. “I know, Tao. It’s so fucked up. But I promise I’ll try my best.” 

“You can win,” Tao encourages. Charlie gives him a look. “Listen, you can run. You’re so fast! You know how to use a bow and arrow, I’ve seen you practise so many times. And then you have the things your dad taught you, too. If you just run and grab a good weapon and hide, you can win!”

“Tao, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Charlie says, squeezing Tao’s shoulder. “It will be a miracle if I can survive the first day. But I will do everything I can to survive, okay?”

“Okay,” Tao concedes and nods solemnly. 

They bring each other into another tight hug and, a few seconds later, they’re interrupted by the door opening. This time, a Peacekeeper stands there, donned with heavy protective armour. 

“Time to go,” he says gruffly. 

Charlie takes a deep breath and smiles at Tao one last time before pulling away fully. The Peacekeeper walks directly behind him, forcing him to walk quickly. Another suddenly steps in front of him, now leading the way.

They step outside and Juniper joins them, causing two more Peacekeepers to surround them. Charlie looks at Juniper, but she keeps her head forward. Charlie turns back to look at where they are heading, quickly realising they are heading to the train station. 

As soon as the Peacekeeper in front opens the station doors, multiple flashes go off, cameras are shoved in their direction and a crowd of people are shouting at them. Charlie can barely understand anything so he keeps close to the Peacekeeper and looks around to make sure Juniper is okay. 

As expected, her strong mask breaks. Charlie can see the tears begin to fall, so he does what anyone in District 12 would do and reaches out to offer a hand. She takes it immediately, and Charlie smiles down at her. She moves closer to him as they walk towards the platform. It’s dirty and old, and Charlie realises that he’s never seen it before. 

The sight doesn’t fill him with much happiness. 

Waiting for them is the train. It’s the biggest and shiniest thing Charlie has ever seen in his life. It has multiple carriages, blinding lights at either end, and massive windows on every single panel. Before he can properly take it in, the Peacekeepers shove him and Juniper through the sleek metal doors of the train, which close behind them with a mechanical woosh. 

“Oh, there you both are!” Rebecca's voice shrills from the other end of the carriage. “Come, come! Let’s sit down and have some tea!” 

Charlie steps forward first and turns to face Juniper. She has settled but still looks like she’s in shock. So, Charlie nods towards where Rebecca is sitting, tugging gently on Juniper’s hand, which brings her out of her trance. They slowly take their seats opposite Rebecca. Charlie feels his entire body sink into the soft plush cushions and for a moment, he forgets the seriousness of the situation. 

Charlie zones out as Rebecca starts to ramble about how fast the train goes and what they can find on each carriage. Charlie doesn’t care. 

“Oh, Rebecca, please shut up,” a new voice sounds from the door behind them. “They’ve got enough on their minds.” 

Rebecca’s face falters slightly as she stops mid-sentence. Instead of continuing, she clears her throat and moves over.

The owner of the new voice walks over them and bounces into the seat next to Rebecca, while she takes a bite of an apple she has in her hand. 

“Hi,” she says as brightly as she can while chewing, which is quickly followed by a swallow. “I’m Darcy, your mentor.”

Chapter Text

With the train going at 250 miles an hour, they’ll arrive at the Capitol within the next two hours. Nick doesn’t bother wasting that time exploring the train much, instead opting to just make a straight shot to the back of it. When he reaches the final train car, he sees a large sofa placed under the window, and trees and bushes whirring past in flashes of green hues. He sits down, grabbing one of the cushions and wrapping his arms around it, resting his chin as he folds in on himself. He closes his eyes, trying to let himself pretend that he isn’t on the train but instead back in his bedroom. 

After Tara told him that David was her mentor, Nick lost any interest in getting her help. Not to mention how her words got under his skin, saying David’s reputation preceded him. Am I really that much like him? Am I just too blind to see it? He doesn’t remember her Games, but after David had come home from his, Nick quit paying attention when he could. Especially once he was old enough to know most of the tributes that went into the arena. He hears the door open behind him, causing his eyes to open and his posture to straighten immediately. He glances over his shoulder to see Tara standing there, her head tilted curiously. He exhales, looking back at the blurry train tracks. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” Tara asks. Nick doesn’t answer, hoping his silence will be enough of a response. Instead, Tara takes it as a silent invitation, walking over and sitting down next to him. She sighs, looking out the window and fidgeting with a ring on her finger. “I will say, I’ve never had such a silent tribute before. Usually, I’m being bombarded with questions by both of you, not just one of you.”

Nick sets the pillow to the side but doesn’t turn to face her. “I don’t have any questions for you,” he says, sounding a little more petulant than he had intended.

“Oh, right,” Tara hums. “I’m sure your brother gave you plenty of tips and tricks then.”

“I didn’t listen to him, and I definitely don’t plan on listening to you. You’re going to tell me the exact same stuff that he’s been telling me for six years now.” Nick turns to look at her now, his gaze cold. “I don’t feel like hearing it again.”

“Just as arrogant as him, I see. Think you can win the Games all by yourself.” Tara shakes her head, moving to stand up. The words cause Nick to scowl.

“Would you quit saying that?” Nick groans. “I’m nothing like David! I told him I was going to play this my way, not with his fucked up methods!”

Tara stills and looks at him. Her gold eyes are dancing with amusement, and she sits back down, getting comfortable against some pillows. “That’s the first thing you and I can agree on.”

Nick stares at her, suddenly feeling extremely confused. “What?” he asks incredulously.

“Did you see my Games at all?” Tara quizzes, and Nick shakes his head slowly. “Yes, your brother was my mentor. He’s also the reason my eyes are gold instead of the brown they used to be.” As she says this, she reaches up with a manicured hand and Nick watches with horror as she pulls an eye out with ease, holding it in the palm of her hand. He glances down quickly, not wanting to stare at her now empty eye socket, his eyes practically bugging out of his head while studying how the eye swirls, moving around every which way as it tries to focus on something. She puts it back in her eye socket, blinking a few times as the eye gathers its placement before snapping back to focus on Nick.

“O-oh,” Nick breathes out, feeling a wave of nausea run over him as he glances back out at the window. He feels pale, almost sick, and he must look like it because a genuine giggle escapes Tara, a grin of pride on her face as she looks out the window with him.

“I can’t lie, I was going to tell you the same things he told me,” she admits, “But then I met you properly, and I could tell right away you were different to him. I said what I said because I wanted to see if you’d react the way I was expecting, which you did.” 

Nick bites his lower lip, glancing down at his hands that are folded in his lap. “Yeah, well, I’ve tried very hard to not be in his shadow,” he mutters. Tara’s hand falls on top of Nick’s, and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I know, but you need to understand that while you’re at the Capitol, that’s all you’re going to hear. People are going to tell you that you remind them of him. They’re going to expect you to act like him, talk like him, and, when it comes down to it, kill like him. Your job right now isn’t to make them think differently. You’ll have plenty of time to do that once you’re in the arena. Right now, your job is to make sure that you don’t let those words eat you alive, especially in front of the other tributes. The moment you step off this train, they’re going to be watching and analysing your every move. Do you understand?” she asks, her brows furrowed. Nick gives a curt nod.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, even though you try to hide it, and that’s good. You can use that to your advantage because, right now, your biggest concern is getting people to like you so you can have sponsors. However, once you’re in that arena, you can’t afford to be emotional. You need to be tactful and cautious. Don’t allow yourself to be pissed off the moment a tribute mentions David. If you’re emotional, even for a second, that could be your downfall.”

Nick listens to these words, and while they sound similar to what David said, they sound entirely different. Where David’s voice held venom and anger, Tara’s has genuinity and concern. Her hand squeezes his own tightly before letting it go as she leans back. Nick’s brows pinch together as he looks over at her. “Right… How do you turn it off, then? Especially when it comes to killing someone. I mean, sure, I’ve trained for it but I feel training and actually doing it are two entirely different things, you know?”

Tara’s face falls grim and her eyes flicker towards the window. “They are indeed. When it comes down to it though… There isn’t a way to turn it off,” her eyes focus back on Nick. “You do what you need to to survive. Part of your training is going to be teaching your mind to be stronger than your feelings.” Her voice cracks at the end of her sentence. They fall silent as the train takes a turn around a bend.

“I’m sorry I was a dick,” Nick murmurs, picking at a loose thread on one of the pillows.

“Yep, definitely not like your brother,” Tara snorts, which earns her an eye roll from Nick. 

“Shut up,” he laughs. The door opens again, and they both turn to see Cassia walk in, a cup of tea in hand. 

“So, are you done throwing your fit then?” Cassia asks with a quirked eyebrow at Nick. His smile falls as he chews the inside of his cheek before shrugging. “Cause I’d actually like to learn something to have a chance at winning this. Or at least, one of us winning it.”

Nick notices the way Tara's face falls neutral, nowhere near as genuine as what it was moments ago. “Um, yeah, I’m good,” Nick manages to say, hoping he doesn’t sound as irritated as he feels. Cassia plops down in between them on the couch, taking a swig of her drink and promptly ignoring Nick as she turns to Tara. 

“I watched your Games, by the way, big fan!” Cassia adds, and Nick can’t help but wonder if she’s being genuine or just trying to kiss up. By the way that Tara’s lips twitch slightly, he can tell that regardless of how Cassia meant it, it doesn’t bode well with the other woman. “What do you think is the most important part of surviving? Should I go for the cornucopia or should I run the other way?”

“The most important part isn’t about the fighting. We all know you two have been training for a very long time now so you’ll handle yourselves well in combat. What you need to focus on is finding shelter and food.” Tara reaches down and begins to fidget with the ring on her finger once more. “I think rushing the cornucopia really just depends on your strength and your skills, as well as if you have allies. There are a lot of beneficial tools that you can get from the centre, but if you’re crafty and you’re smart, you can make weapons as you go too. It honestly depends on what the arena is like.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but-” Cassia starts, but Nick interrupts her.

“How should we pick our allies?” he asks, ignoring the daggers Cassia throws his way. Tara’s eyes flicker to him and the smile that graces her lips is a refreshing sight from the blank stare she had moments prior. “Should we make allies? I’ve seen some victors win on their own, but others that have won wouldn’t have without the help they got both inside and outside of the arena.”

“Who needs allies when we can count on each other?” Cassia frowns. 

Nick and Tara ignore the question as Tara speaks. “It depends on what kind of allies you want. The nice thing about the training centre is you’ll get a chance to see what each tribute is like. While you’re practising your physical skills, practise your observational ones as well. They’ll be doing the exact same thing to you. Watch how they interact with one another, what weapons they go for, and how they use them. While Districts One and Four have always partnered up with District Two in the past-”

“Because they’re the strongest of the group.” Cassia shrugs. “Not to mention our districts are closer together so it kind of makes sense since we’ve all been doing the same training.”

“That’s true, but strength alone isn’t going to help you win the Games,” Tara points out. “Your mind needs to be just as strong, if not stronger. What I was going to say is that while Districts One and Four have always partnered up with us in the past, the allies I chose were from the lower districts. A district doesn’t define who a person is, let alone that person’s strength or ability. It’s who they are as an individual. My ally from District Eleven is the reason I’m here with you two right now.” 

Nick can tell by the look on Cassia’s face that she isn’t keen on the idea of teaming up with someone who isn’t a Career. She keeps quiet though, sipping her tea as Tara looks between the two of them before standing slowly to clap her hands. “Once we get to the Capitol, you’re going to be taken to a grooming station. They’re going to wash you and shave you to prepare you for your stylists and after that, you’ll be shown your living quarters. Tomorrow evening will be the tribute parade and the following day, you’ll begin your training in the training centre. I’m going to go talk with Imogen and give you two a moment to get to know one another. We’ll chat more soon.”

Once Tara is gone, Nick looks out the window again, chewing on his lower lip. He’s processing everything Tara’s just said; his brain is more of a mess now than when he first boarded the train. Cassia turns, pretending to look out the window too but Nick can feel her gaze on him. “I know you,” she says quietly, prompting Nick to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” Nick deadpans, still watching the windows.

“Yeah, we trained at the same building for a few years before I moved houses,” Cassia says. “You’re dating Sahar, right? That’s why you volunteered for her brother?” The question she asks causes him to meet her eyes now, his brows furrowed together with confusion.

“I’m not dating anyone.” He frowns. “How could I in a world like this? Besides, she’s like family to me and so is Sami. And Sami’s too young to be in the Games.”

Cassia snorts at this and before Nick can say anything, she’s standing up, smoothing non-existent wrinkles in her dress. “Aren’t we all?” she asks dryly and with that, she turns on her foot and walks out of the room too, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts once again. 

***

When they pull into the station at the Capitol, Cassia is the first to run to the window to wave at the crowd. Nick wants to just stand there, not at all interested in socialising with the people who can’t wait to see him dead, but Tara gives him a stern look that oddly enough, reminds him of his mother. He exhales deeply through his nose before moving towards the window, raising his hand and waving along with Cassia while putting on a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Once the train has come to a stop and the doors open, Nick and Cassia are welcomed by four Peacekeepers. 

Imogen is the first to step out of the train, Tara following suit. Nick extends his arm for Cassia to go before stepping out last. The train doors shut behind him and within seconds, the train is gone followed by a large gust of wind. Cameras are flashing every which way Nick looks and people are screaming their names so loudly that it drowns out any type of thought Nick had moments prior. He nods towards a couple of people to his left and is bold enough to shoot a wink at a group of girls to his right. As they make their way to a set of doors, he swears he sees one of the girls faint in his peripheral vision. 

Once they pass the doors, Imogen stops them, holding her hands out. “This is where I leave you for now. I have a group of promising sponsors I’m meeting for lunch. Early bird gets the worm as they say! Never too early to get only the best for my tributes!” she giggles as if she’s just said the funniest joke in the world. Nick, Cassia, and even Tara just stare at her. “Now, Tara will lead you to the washing stations from here where you’ll be cleaned and prepped for your stylists. Good luck you two, and I promise we’ll see each other again real soon,” she adds before giving them each an awkward hug. Cassia is nice enough to mirror it back, but Nick stands still.

How can she be acting as if she’s just dropping us off at school instead of where we’re meant to spend our final days?

Nick listens to the clicks of Imogen’s heels fade away as Tara waves her hand for them to follow. The hallway they walk through is rather bland, all muted tones of grey and white. Tara points towards a door for Nick to go through and a different one for Cassia. Nick walks through the doorway, realising that it’s not a room he’s walked into but a subsection of the grooming area. His eyes land on a girl with vibrant green hair and white eyelashes who offers him a smile.

“Follow me, Mr Nelson,” she says kindly.

“As if I have a choice,” Nick whispers under his breath. 

One steaming hot bath and a chest wax later, Nick is led to another room with nothing but boxers around his waist. The girl with green hair tells him his stylist will be in shortly and then swiftly exits, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and his freshly naked chest. His skin is still tingling from where the wax strips attacked it, the soft flesh extra sensitive to the cool air. He touches his sternum idly while staring at the hanging ceiling light, the hum of electricity filling the silent room, and he finds himself unsure of what to expect next. Every minute that passes by feels like a year, the time passing beginning to feel heavy on his shoulders as he waits, waits, and waits some more. He notices a metal bed against the wall of the room and has half a mind to lie down but he refuses, instead pacing as he studies his nails that have been perfectly manicured.

He still doesn’t understand why the Capitol goes through all of this trouble; cleaning them up and dressing them like dolls. It’s almost as if they’re refurbishing their new toys just to turn around and break them apart. It’s sadistic, cruel, and downright inhumane.

It’s the Hunger Games, he reminds himself with a scowl.

He wonders what his mum is doing right now. If Sahar and Sami are both crying at home or if they’re sitting with his family at the dinner table. If it’s the latter, he can’t help but wonder if Sahar and David have gotten into a row yet or if she’s waiting until after they eat dessert. He hopes that they won’t do it in front of Sami; even though Sahar knows how to keep herself in check, David doesn’t even bother with trying. Normally, in those moments, it would be Nick that kept the peace.

It’ll have to be Sarah’s job to keep them both level-headed this year.

He wonders if Sami remembers the shadow puppet figures that Nick had taught him last year. Maybe Sahar is doing a show with him right now. The thought makes tears well up in his eyes.

The door opens, causing Nick to startle as he turns around. A man who stands at about 5’8” walks in, wearing a vibrant red suit. He has white eyeliner on his lower lash line and a gold ear piercing in his left ear but besides that, he looks nothing like the rest of the Capitol population. He holds his hand out towards Nick, offering him a genuine smile. “Nicholas Nelson,” he says warmly. “It’s an honour to meet you. I’m just sorry it had to be like this.”

The words that the man says catch Nick off guard because this is the first time since the reaping that someone has acknowledged how hard this really is. He watches the man wearily as he nods with hesitation, taking the other’s hand and shaking it once firmly. “Thank you,” he replies. 

“I’m Nathan Ajayi, but you can call me Nathan,” he says, pointing his arm to the metal bed Nick had noticed earlier, signalling for Nick to have a seat. Nick obliges, walking over and using his forearms to help prop himself up.

“Let me guess, you were my brother’s stylist?” Nick asks, unable to hide the nervousness in his tone. The man’s eyebrows shoot up and he quickly shakes his head.

“God no,” he responds hastily, “I don’t know who did your brother’s costumes but I promise you won’t look anything like that. No offence,” he adds. Nick can’t help the small smile that forms on his lips as his eyes glance down at his feet. David had looked quite atrocious during the chariot parade and the interview. It had been rather funny for him and his mum to see. He had even managed to make his mum laugh during the interview that was held the night before the tributes entered the arena. 

“Good,” Nick chuckles, rubbing his forearm. Nathan reaches his hand out to touch Nick’s face but hesitates, his brown eyes silently asking permission. Nick notices the look, pausing briefly before leaning forward in an equally silent admission. Nathan’s fingertips press against either side of Nick’s jaw, tilting his head gently from side to side. 

“You have really nice cheekbones,” Nathan murmurs, and Nick feels a mixture of emotions form in his chest at the other’s words. Against his will, he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he focuses on a spot on the floor. He’s never been one to be able to accept compliments from anyone, especially one as specific as that. Nathan seemingly notices because he chuckles quietly. “I promise I’m not hitting on you. I’m just noting out loud your features that we can use to your advantage to make the people of Panem fall in love with you.”

Nick doesn’t know how to respond to that because he didn’t think that Nathan was hitting on him, but he realises that his blushing probably made it seem that way. “O-Oh, no, I didn’t think- I mean, I don’t-” his tongue feels as if it’s wrapped in a genuine knot, causing him to fall silent, “Er, right.”

Nathan doesn’t seem phased at all by his nervous blabbering as he steps back, his hand falling from Nick’s face. “I know what I’m going to do for you and your partner’s costumes. While the old stylist has gone for a soldier-esque look, I want to take a different approach this year.” He puts his fingers up to his mouth as if he’s debating something. “I don’t want Panem to see you two as soldiers. I want them to see you two as Gods.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot up at this. Gods? “Aren’t gods like… I dunno, immortal? Cassia and I are the opposite of that,” he frowns.

Nathan chuckles deeply, waving his hand before placing it on Nick’s shoulder. “I know, but we want them to see you as someone worth betting on. Someone who they want to sponsor so they can see win. Soldiers are expendable but gods? Gods are invaluable.” he points out. Nick thinks about this for a second before nodding in agreement. “The only question for you, Nick, is how do you feel about glitter?” 

***

Nick, in fact, does not like glitter. 

It’s flakey and causes his face to itch, but he somehow manages to fight the urge to scratch at it as he and Cassia walk down the pathway that leads to where all of the chariots are placed. As they get closer, Nick can hear the muffled echoes of the Capitol’s citizens that are on the other side of the gates as they chatter excitedly amongst themselves. It makes his stomach churn knowing that they’re only minutes away from being put on display for all of Panem to see and admire. While they make it seem like a celebration for the tributes, Nick knows that, in reality, it’s like an auction. Not only are the citizens there to watch, but there are sponsors there too, watching them come out one by one to see which tribute would make the best trophy. The idea of being appraised just by the way he looks, like some piece of art, sets a permanent scowl on his face.

Who are they to decide my worth? To decide anyone’s worth solely on what costume they wear or how glittery their skin is? 

“Nick,” Cassia’s voice interrupts his thoughts and he glances down at her as she squeezes his forearm. Her blonde hair is pinned into a bun with a few stray pieces framing her face, an ornate golden crown placed on top of her head. It reminds Nick of sun rays, lines of different heights pointing upwards as they fan across her head. She’s got gold bangles along her arms with a golden cuff on her left bicep, her dress a cream toga that drapes across one shoulder while leaving the other exposed, the material flowing across the ground as she walks. There’s a gold belt that wraps around her waist and her bare shoulder has golden flakes of glitter tracing her neck and collarbone. 

“Hm?” Nick asks in a disconnected hum, not bothering to glance at her. He’s wearing a silly costume of his own: a cream skirt around his waist with a heavy golden chestplate on his torso. He has long golden cuffs that cover his forearms entirely, pointing sharply where they end at his elbows. On top of his head is a golden-leafed crown, resting perfectly on his gelled auburn locks. Both of them are barefoot to solidify the statement that they’re gods. Where Cassia has golden flakes of glitter on her shoulder and neck, Nick has it on his cheekbones and Adam’s apple. 

“You gotta focus,” Cassia scolds, which only earns her a half-hearted eye roll from Nick. “We’re in this together, yeah? Tonight we represent our district and what we have to offer, remember?” she adds. 

Nick wants to refute, to remind her that they’re only in it together until that timer goes off in the arena, but the doors leading to the chariots open so his mouth shuts. Nick spots Nathan standing by their chariot, the outside made of marble with a golden decal along it. The wheels are solid gold as well, the horses pulling them a pristine shade of white. 

Nathan offers them a warm smile, nodding towards Cassia and then Nick. “Look at you two,” he beams with pride. “If this doesn’t make them see you as gods, I don’t know what else will.”

“Nick being shirtless might help,” Cassia says quietly, earning a glare from Nick. She shrugs, crossing her arms. “What? It’s true.”

“I’m not some slab of meat for the entirety of Panem to feast upon!” he hisses quietly, noticing the way some of the other tributes have turned their heads to look at them. He exhales deeply, pursing his lips as he decides to focus on the white mare in front of him, his eyes tracing the way it flicks its tail back and forth.

“Oh, here we go,” Cassia scoffs, raising her arms in the air. “You know what, Nick, if you don’t want sponsors then, by all means, throw your fits! You’ll soon learn just how helpful the tantrums you have out here will be in there.” 

“Both of you, enough,” Nathan says calmly as he slightly raises his hands, “Right now, you two are supposed to represent unity and teamwork,” he frowns. “Whatever energy this is, save it for the arena, alright? Besides,” he licks his lips and glances at Nick as he leans forward, “There are a lot of listening ears and watchful eyes right now, so let’s just put on a fake smile and get in the chariot. Yeah?” he asks. Nick feels a small amount of guilt settle atop his shoulders, but it’s short-lived as anger takes its place once more, because… why?

Why do I feel guilty when there’s not a single thing that’s right or fair about this entire ordeal?!

“Of course,” Nick says as he offers a tight smile to Nathan and then Cassia. “Here, let me help you up on the chariot,” he adds, extending a hand for Cassia who takes it gratefully. She steps up and once she finds her balance, Nick hops in too. It’s a short wait for the trumpets to begin, signalling the start of the parade. He hears the crowd go absolutely wild on the other side of the gate and Nick has to grip the edge of the chariot tightly.

Nathan runs over to the side and looks up at them, “Change of plans. Don’t smile when your chariot begins to move. I want you both to have cold and determined looks on your faces. Gods are many things, but kind is not at the top of the list. I want the audience to get the impression that, as you’re both gods, they’re beneath you. Good luck,” he says, slapping the side of the chariot and then running back off.

Cold and determined, eh? I can work with that.

As the chariot moves, Nick does exactly what he’s told. He watches with steady eyes as District 1's chariot lurches forward. The District 2 chariot follows in its wake, the horses slowly trotting behind it in formation. Nick has to squint as the sun blinds them as they exit from the shadows and into the full view of the cameras and Panem. Nick’s knuckles are white as he steadies himself while the chariot jostles him and Cassia side to side from the rocks that lay on the path. Nick stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched as his nostrils flare. The crowd on either side of them are screaming fanatically, applauding and yelling different district numbers out. Nick glances up at the screen in front of them just in time to see the camera focus on him and Cassia. Nathan wasn’t wrong, they do indeed look like gods. 

He can practically hear Sahar’s teasing voice, echoing in his head. ‘I never would’ve dreamt of you having glitter on your cheekbones.’ Nick’s eyes flicker back to the heads of the mares in front of them as they whir down the aisle. It’s not hard at all to keep a stoic face – all he has to do is remind himself that these people aren’t actually here to celebrate them. They’re only here to celebrate the Games, and he can practically feel the sponsors devouring each tribute individually, one by one. With this repeating in his head like a mantra, he somehow manages to make it through the rest of the parade without letting any emotion seep through his facade. 

***

After the tribute parade, Nick and Cassia are guided back to their living quarters that they’d been shown the night before. Nick is silent the entire way, his head throbbing with the screams from the citizens still echoing in his mind. Cassia and Tara are talking about something silently that Nick doesn’t even attempt to eavesdrop on because he’s simply just too tired. When they enter through the door, Nick sees the large dining table that looks as if it could seat twenty people and on top of the table is a large array of platters. Each platter has different types of food, ranging from a cooked goose to a fully cooked pig with a shiny red apple in its mouth. Along the platters of meat are small plates that surround them, containing a wide array of different fruits and vegetables. Nick doesn’t give it a second glance, walking towards his designated bedroom. He takes the crown off, throwing it across the room before ripping off the cuffs around his forearms and letting them drop to the floor. The next thing to come off is the chest plate, followed by the skirt. 

Stark naked, he walks to the bathroom that’s connected to his room, wishing he could slam the door shut behind him. Unfortunately, it slides open and closed via a sensor above it so all Nick can do is silently seethe in anger while he turns the shower on. He doesn’t wait for the water to warm, stepping underneath the cold stream and scrubbing at his neck and cheeks violently, wanting to wash the glitter away as quickly as possible. As the water warms, he hangs his head and rests his palms flatly against the wall, watching the specks of glitter twirl down the drain. With the shower pouring down over him, he lets a scream escape him. He doesn’t know if it’s a scream of agony or a scream of anger but he doesn’t care. He screams for as long as he can, his throat becoming raw and burning as the water of the shower sneaks around the sides of his head and gets in his eyes, blurring his vision. Or maybe they’re tears? Nick can’t tell, too caught up in the mixture of his emotions. 

He falls silent, panting while his shoulders begin to tremble. If I could take everything back, I would. God help me, I would. He thinks to himself, guilt washing over his shoulders. For a moment, he lets himself selfishly regret volunteering for Sami. He lets himself regret getting close to Sahar and being top of his training class. He knows to his core that it makes him a shitty person but if being a shitty person means he wouldn’t have to kill anyone, then…

If you weren’t doing it, Sami would be. His inner voice of reason reminds him. If you weren’t here right now, it might be Sami crying in the shower. Get the fuck over yourself and man up, Nelson. 

Nick lets out a sharp sob, the noise racking his body as he falls to his knees and hangs his head lower to where his chin tucks against his chest. I’ll let myself feel this for five more minutes. Five more minutes, and then I need to move on and I need to be brave. For Mum, for Sahar, and most importantly, for Sami. He sniffles, the tears continuously falling as he tries to remember what his mum’s laugh sounded like. Was it really only yesterday morning that he heard it? Was it only yesterday that he had woken up in his own bed? The longing and homesickness that weighs on Nick’s chest makes him feel nauseated. He exhales sharply, trying to catch his breath but his emotions only press harder on his chest and he finds himself unable to breathe at all. The water pouring over his shoulders is no longer a welcome distraction, but instead a form of torture as it continues to run over his body, pouring into his mouth when he tries to lean his head back to get air. With a shaky hand, Nick reaches up and turns the shower off, turning around and stumbling out of it, collapsing onto the bathroom floor elbow first. 

He rests his hand on his chest as he sits up, finding it a little easier to breathe now that he’s no longer in the shower. He leans his head back against the wall, tears pricking his eyes once more. He exhales sharply, blinking them back and shaking his head slowly, trying to clear the overwhelming emotions out of his head now. He remembers the breathing techniques his mum taught him when he was younger. Subtly, he inhales for four seconds, holds for four seconds, and exhales for four seconds. He does this a couple of more times, his eyes closing as he lets the coldness of the bathroom floor ground him. As soon as he no longer feels like the room is spinning, he manages to stand up. He realises he didn’t even get a chance to wash his hair so he walks into the shower and starts it up again, pumping some shampoo into his hand and scratching at the crusty gel that’s attached to his locks while the shampoo forms a foamy lather.

Once he’s done, he grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist and looks at himself in the mirror above the sink. His face is red and Nick can see faint pink lines on his neck from the vigorous scrubbing that occurred earlier. His eyes look tired and bloodshot, no doubt from the tears. Nick sighs deeply, reminding himself that it’s time for him to pull himself together and he turns, leaving the bathroom. The coolness of the bedroom nips at Nick’s exposed skin, causing goosebumps to run along his arms and torso as he walks over towards the wardrobe. He finds a pair of grey joggers and a navy cashmere jumper that he puts on, not caring to put socks on as the chill of the floor is once again helping keep him anchored. He moves to walk out of the room to get food before halting. The door sensor is triggered above him and the door slides open, but Nick doesn’t leave. Instead, he turns around and makes his way to the bed that’s pressed up against the wall’s centre.

Sitting down on the bed, he notices the mounted TV across the room. Chewing his lip, he looks over at the bedside table and grabs a remote. Pointing it at the TV, he presses a button, and with a click, the screen comes to life. 

Alright, Nick. It’s time for you to start your training early. 

He flips through the channels before coming across the one specific channel that covers everything about the Games, from the reaping ceremony to the day that someone is crowned a victor. They’re currently finishing the coverage of the parade, the host, Aled Flickerman, talking in an animated voice about each district’s chariot and costumes.  He himself is wearing a vibrant fuchsia tuxedo, his blonde hair pulled back into a bun with multi-coloured gems placed around his eyes instead of his normal eyeliner. 

As Aled speaks, Nick leans against the headboard and slips under the covers, drawing them over his lap. Aled begins to go over the reaping from the day before, and Nick instantly leans forward, his eyes studying each of the tributes that appear on the screen. One by one, Nick notes each tribute’s name and what he can tell about them at first glance. He quickly identifies the most prominent threats, the tributes from districts 1 and 4; specifically recognising the evident cockiness in both Harry Greene and Ben Hope. Whenever the term ‘Career’ is mentioned, Nick would picture someone who looks like these men: both possessing the athletic builds and striking good looks the higher districts are known for. Ben captivates with his stunning green eyes, while Harry stands out with his impeccably styled golden hair. As they wave confidently at everyone, it becomes apparent that they’re rather full of themselves, a look of determination in their eyes.

The female tributes mirror their male counterparts' attitudes, but Nick observes a notable age difference between Ben's partner, who is only twelve, and Harry's partner, who is sixteen. With slender frames and toned biceps, both women charm the crowd with radiant smiles as they wave. The only concern that crosses Nick's mind is the unsettling possibility of having to confront and possibly harm the twelve-year-old tribute. Before Aled proceeds with the lower districts, he arranges the photos of District 1, District 2 and District 4, musing aloud about the possibility of this year's Career tributes forming alliances, as their predecessors often did in previous Games.

Not if I can help it, Nick thinks to himself, his lips twisting with disgust.

Aled continues to go on to the other districts and the only other people that stick out as a possible threat to Nick so far are the twins from District 7, Silas and Ivy Woodrow. Though their builds may appear lankier compared to others, Nick is aware that looks can be deceptive. Considering that their district is primarily involved in lumber, he can only assume that, despite a lack of overt muscle, they likely possess knowledge and skills related to axes and trees. Knowledge that other tributes don’t have. That could easily make one of them the underdog of the Games if the arena has any kind of forestry. 

The further down the list Aled goes, Nick finds himself feeling rather confident. Most of the tributes shown are people around the same height and frame that Nick fought or trained with back in District 2. He isn't certain about the approach he'll take in eliminating them, but silently, he harbours hope that perhaps he won't have to. Maybe he can opt to keep to himself, remaining hidden and engaging in combat only when he deems it absolutely necessary. He is fully aware that won’t be the reality of the Games, but for the time being, he clings to that delusional idea.

Nick is about to just turn off the TV altogether, his head feeling heavy in his palm as his eyes stay glued to the screen when Aled finally talks about District 12. 

“And for the final district, we have a rather exciting pairing this year. At the age of thirteen, Juniper Cannon is one of the youngest tributes in the Games this year. As if that isn’t exciting enough, her seventeen-year-old partner, Charles Spring, is the first volunteer District Twelve has ever had! Let’s take a moment to rewatch this invigorating reaping tape!” he says, holding his hand up to the screen behind him.

Volunteer?

Nick suddenly feels wide awake as he scoots to the end of his bed, getting closer to the TV screen so he can see it with his own eyes. Volunteers are not only uncommon in District 12, they simply do not exist. He sees Rebecca Allen, District 12’s escort, walk out onto the stage in one of her many peculiar outfits, greeting everyone with the same smile she always has. They show snippets of the annual video they play at every reaping before she gets on with calling the female tribute first. 

“Juniper Cannon!” She chirps out. The crowd is at a silent standstill and Nick’s heart aches as he watches the girl slowly walk towards the stage, the same look on her face that was on Sami’s. She’s so small with her hair tied back, visibly shaking, and Nick knows at that moment that he wouldn’t be able to hurt her even if he tried. The only applause that can be heard is the scattered claps from the people on the stage as Juniper makes her way up. Once she’s standing by Rebecca’s side, Imogen walks over to the male tribute bowl.

“And now for the boys!” she continues in a singsong tone. Her hand pulls a piece of paper out and once she’s back in front of the microphone, she opens it. “Oliver Spring!” 

That’s why Charles volunteered. It’s his brother. Nick can’t help the gasp that escapes him.

The Peacekeepers on the screen grab a small boy who looks as equally as petrified as Juniper did, his blue eyes frantic and already full of tears. In the background, as the cameras shift to an aerial view, Nick sees Charles push his way through the line of other kids. “Olly!” he cries out, prompting the younger boy to look back at him. By that point, Olly’s tears have spilled down his cheeks. Charles runs towards Olly when a Peacekeeper grabs him, hooking their arm around the man’s waist. “No! Olly!” 

Nick’s stomach is twisted in knots all over again, his eyes flickering quickly back and forth between the two siblings and it makes his chest fill with the anger from earlier that had all but subsided. The sight is just another reminder of how utterly fucked everything is. “I volunteer!” Charles’ echoing voice cuts through Nick’s chest, his eyes zoning in and focusing on the other. Nick exhales deeply, feeling frozen just like everyone in District 12 appears to be at Charles’ words. “I volunteer as tribute!” 

The video footage cuts to Olly running toward Charles, tackling him with a hug. Aled’s face reappears, snapping Nick out of whatever trance he had been in, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. Right, this is just reality TV to these bastards. Not real life to them at all.

“And there we have it! All of our newest tributes,” Aled says with a wide smile. “I don’t know about the viewers at home but I feel this year has an interesting mix! It could very well be anyone’s Game! Tomorrow will-” 

Nick doesn’t let him finish, clicking the remote and rewinding to the still of Charles' piercing blue eyes that are partially covered by his raven curls while he stands on the stage and looks out at the crowd. He should be studying Charles, sizing him up just like Nick did with the other tributes, but at this moment all he can feel is empathy for his competitor. This wasn’t supposed to be either of their Games, but because of the Capitol and because they both care too much about the people they love… 

Well, here they are. 

As silly as the thought feels, Nick can’t help but wonder if, in another lifetime, they could’ve been friends. Maybe they could’ve been friends in this lifetime later on, had they not signed up for the same gruesome fate. 

He turns the TV off entirely, putting the remote on the bedside table and lying on his side with an exasperated sigh. He pulls the covers over his shoulders, his eyes pricking with tears once more as he stares at the wall. His head is swirling with so many different thoughts at once that it just sounds like a wind tunnel in his mind. It stays like that until he somehow finally manages to drift off into a restless sleep. That night, he dreams of gods and goddesses, as well as birds flying overhead that circle and dive, laughing at Nick as they descend. And, for some reason, a curly-haired soldier with haunting blue eyes appears in his dreams too.

The following morning, Nick awakes to a knock at his door. He groans quietly, cursing under his breath as he rolls out of bed. The door opens and Tara walks in with a pile of folded clothes in the palm of her hand. “Morning,” she offers him a smile. Nick’s brain isn’t fully awake yet to remind him to return the gesture. She hands him the clothes before looking at the clock on the wall, noticing the time. “You’ll need to get dressed soon. You have thirty minutes until we leave for the training centre.”

“Right,” Nick murmurs, taking the clothes from her and setting them on the bed. She stills, an indecisive look on her face as if she’s debating on saying something, so Nick waits with a raised eyebrow. Tara licks her lower lip before giving a simple nod and leaving the room. Nick unfolds the shirt first, realising it’s a black sports top. In the centre of the short sleeves is a patch that says ‘DISTRICT 2’. The tracksuit bottoms are black as well with a red stripe running along each side. 

He makes haste to put them on, hating how tight the sleeves are around his biceps and the way the tracksuit bottoms rest under his navel. Nick finds a pair of socks that have the symbol of Panem on them and rolls them on before leaving his room and heading towards the dining area. As much as he doesn’t want to eat, he knows that he’s going to need the food for stamina and energy. Cassia and Tara are talking about each of the tributes while Nick grabs a plate and places one of the freshly made egg white omelettes on it, along with some mixed fruit and a slice of avocado toast. He sits down next to Tara, chewing silently as she continues talking.

“Today is going to be your first day seeing all of the other tributes in person. Make sure to practise your observational skills like I told you.” Tara reminds them, “You’ll also want to utilise as many of the training stations as possible because no one knows what the arena is going to look like. If you’re lucky, you might even be able to pick up a few new skills while training.”

“Should we be looking at the other tributes to see who we want as allies?” Cassia asks through a mouthful of eggs. “Personally, I think our best bet would be to ally with District One and District Four.” Nick can’t refrain from rolling his eyes at the comment, earning a glare from Cassia. “What? Do you have a better idea?”

Nick shakes his head, stabbing his omelette harshly with his fork. “I don’t think we should ally with them just because they’re a higher district. Do you not remember who helped Tara win her Games?” 

“Well go on, then,” Cassia snaps, “who would you suggest? Let me guess, the weaklings from District Twelve? The boy who cried and the girl who just hit puberty, right?” 

Nick clenches his jaw, his head snapping abruptly at her. “So what if I did? Charles has more bravery in his pinky than you do in your fucking body!” 

“Nick!” Tara hisses.

“I have more bravery and strength than some fucking twig from District Twelve. In fact, I have more bravery and strength than you. I got chosen, and I outranked the volunteers. You volunteered for a fucking twelve-year-old.”

Nick’s body moves before his brain can react. He jolts out of his chair, knocking it over as he grabs the collar of her shirt to lift her. Her eyes practically bug out of her head as he stares her down. “Keep talking, and I’ll kill you before the Games even start,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Nick put her down,” Tara says with an eerily calm tone. Nick looks at her and it’s only then that he notices Tara is holding a knife towards his throat. Nick exhales deeply, letting go of Cassia’s shirt before pointing a finger at her while she rubs her neck. 

“You and I were raised to be soldiers, but the lower districts weren’t. If you had actually paid any attention during the reaping, you’d know the bravery that I’m talking about. All I see in front of me is a cocky little girl who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up,” he huffs sharply. His eyes snap to Tara’s, her golden orbs watching him warily. “I’m going to get my shoes on and then we can go to the training centre,” he finishes, walking away from the table and back to his room. He sits on the edge of his bed, his blood still boiling and the adrenaline from earlier rushing through his body. He grabs the combat boots sitting in front of the dresser, puts them on and begins lacing one up as he fights the tears that are threatening to form. 

A bubble of hatred blooms in Nick’s chest but this hatred isn’t for the Games or Cassia. It’s for himself. He’s usually been so good at controlling his emotions, not letting them get the better of him. However, the last three days have been absolutely brutal for him, and it’s only going to get worse. As Nick finishes lacing up the other boot, a morbid thought crosses his mind. A thought that he hasn’t allowed himself to think since the morning of the reaping.

Is it because I’m going to die soon?

Chapter Text

“I’m Darcy, your mentor.” 

Charlie and Juniper blink at Darcy in silence. Charlie takes in Darcy’s appearance: blonde hair framing her face haphazardly, a sage green blazer with rolled up sleeves with a creased white shirt with the first few buttons undone. 

Darcy looks between them all with a grin on her face. “Chatty pair we’ve got, right, Becky?” she jokes as she puts the apple on the table. 

Rebecca’s nostrils flare at the nickname, or maybe it was the apple placement, but she still tries to keep a pleasant smile on her face. 

Darcy’s eyes land on Charlie and something changes in her eyes. “You volunteered,” she says, sounding calmer than before. “Don’t get a lot of them from Twelve.” 

“Yeah, well… he’s my brother,” Charlie replies with a hard stare. 

“Hmm.” Darcy nods understandingly. “We can use that. People love a sob story.” 

“What?” Charlie asks incredulously. 

“Mate, this is the Hunger Games,” Darcy snorts. “You need to find something to use to reach people where it hurts. You have a better chance at winning.” 

“Don’t we win by killing people?” Charlie spits. 

Darcy’s face falls. Something flashes in her eyes, and her lips form a tight line. “That’s true.”

“Is that what you did?” Juniper pipes up for the first time. Her voice is quiet and small.

Darcy’s face softens and she looks down at the apple. “Not at first, no.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “At first, I kept to myself. Only speaking when spoken to and even then, I didn’t say much. As soon as that starting cannon went off, I hid. I was always good at causing mischief growing up. I could sneak up on people and trick them, and they wouldn't even know it was me. So in the Games, I used that. I used my strengths to my advantage. Tell me, what are you two good at?” She leans forward, some of her excitement showing again in her eyes as they flick between Charlie and Juniper.

“I can run… and my brother has always said I’m good at hiding… camouflage, I guess,” Juniper replies with a shrug. “He’s also teaching me how to use knives, but I’m not great at it.”

“It’s okay, that’s good,” Darcy mumbles. “You can practise using knives in training. Let me have a think about how you can use your other skills.” She turns to Charlie. “And you?”

“I can run too,” he begins. “Um… I’m good with a bow and arrow, and my dad was from District Three, so he taught me how to improve traps and stuff.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, shit,” she laughs. “You might have a real chance after all.” She picks up her apple again, taking another bite. 

The carriage becomes silent again. Charlie swallows thickly, forcing himself to stay realistic as Darcy’s words settle inside his brain. 

“What was it like?” Charlie asks suddenly. 

“The Games?” Darcy sighs. “If I’m being honest, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.”

Charlie notices that Rebecca sends Darcy a look of sympathy, her icy blue eyes becoming glassy with tears. 

“One of?” Charlie quotes. 

Darcy nods slowly. “I saw people change. I saw how they became addicted to the adrenaline rush from killing people. I would see it in every Games that I watched growing up, and I promised myself that if I ever got chosen, I wouldn’t end up like that.” 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Charlie interjects. 

Darcy’s lips twitch upwards for a second. “I managed to get to the final three tributes. I hadn’t killed anyone by that point. I survived because I hid. Some might say that was me being a coward, some might say I was being smart. But of course, the Gamemakers did their thing, got us to the centre of the arena. It was me, a Career from District One and a girl from District Seven – Liliana. She was… everything. Even in the most depressing of days, she managed to make me laugh. We had actually teamed up in the beginning, but then we got separated. I spent every night praying that I wouldn’t see her face in the sky. It wasn’t until it was us two and the boy from District One that I realised how I felt about her. 

“We worked together to fight him. We both wanted to survive, obviously. But then… he threw a spear at me, and she jumped in front of me. That’s when something inside me snapped. As he ran towards me, ready to kill me too, I threw knife after knife, even after he collapsed. I only stopped when I ran out of knives. I had twenty of them; his cannon went off after the sixth. I held Liliana in my arms as she died, making me the victor. 

“I loved her until the end. Loving her was the best and most painful thing to experience. Loving her made me break my promise to myself, but I don’t regret it. Not really.” 

Darcy releases a heavy sigh, wiping away a few stray tears that had escaped. “To this day, I don’t feel like I won. Not really. I was just the one who survived the longest. I didn’t fight. I lost a part of myself in there. So, my advice? Stay true to yourselves, but stay level-headed. Be realistic. Think about yourself, maybe each other until you can’t afford to any longer. Put yourself first and hope you have all the luck on your side, because you're gonna need it.” 

Without waiting for anyone to respond, Darcy gets up, grasping the seats tightly to steady herself as she hastily makes her way through the carriage, picking up an unopened bottle of clear liquid from the drinks trolley on the way. 

“I’ll just…” Rebecca mumbles, mainly to herself and gets out of her seat, “... make sure she’s okay.” 

Her departure leaves Charlie and Juniper alone for the first time. 

Charlie hears Juniper’s breathing quicken, so he turns his body to fully face her. “Hey, hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay.” 

Charlie hates that he’s said that because it’s far from true, but he isn’t sure what else to say.

He takes her hand in his and rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. Wordlessly, she lets herself fall into Charlie’s chest, and her free hand fists his shirt. Charlie immediately wraps his other arm around her small body, holding her tight and rocking them back and forth. 

It takes her a few minutes to calm down. Every sob is another stab of pain to Charlie’s heart. 

“Hey,” Charlie whispers, giving her a gentle squeeze. She responds by sitting up to look at him properly. “How old are you?” 

“Thirteen,” she replies quietly. 

Charlie swallows his tears and forces a small smile on his face. “My brother is twelve. And you know what I said to him earlier? I said that I took his place to protect him, and that I would always look after him no matter what. So how about, for no matter how long we’re in the Games for, we look out for each other. I’ll protect you like I’d protect Olly, okay?” 

Somehow, Juniper’s eyes brighten, and she manages to smile. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“Wanna go and see what the other carriages are like?” Charlie asks. He needs a distraction, and Juniper probably does too.

Juniper walks ahead of him and he finally lets himself breathe out, a few tears escaping his eyes. 

Just one day at a time. That’s all you can do for now, he tells himself as he wipes his face.

Charlie and Juniper slowly make their way through the train. They pass through the dining carriage, which is filled with expensive looking tables, silverware and crockery. Charlie doesn’t even recognise half of the food on display, some meals looking traditional while others look downright exotic. The next carriage is the bar, displaying many bottles of expensive variations of alcohol placed in glass cabinets. Charlie pauses to pull the crystal stopper out of one of the decanters and sniffs the alcohol. He instantly gags with how strong it is and puts the stopper back almost immediately. Juniper lets out a soft giggle at his reaction as she continues forward.

The third carriage they reach turns out to be the last one, which has dark grey velvet sofas decorated with plush cushions. There are four lamps adding a warm glow to the carriage; Charlie almost feels welcome. He lets his fingers ghost over the glass tables that hold more crystal glasses as he goes to take a seat on the sofa. Juniper follows him, sitting at the opposite end, pulling her knees to her chest. He rests his head on folded arms and looks out the large window. He watches the trees and fields pass by in a blur, the green becoming greener and brighter as they get closer to the Capitol. Neither of them say anything. Charlie doesn’t really know what to say. Everything seems a bit pointless at the moment, so for now, he’s happy for the silence.

He’s not sure how long he sits there for, but suddenly he realises that it’s now dark and a yawn escapes him. With a heavy sigh, he leads the way to their assigned bedroom compartments. Juniper pauses outside her door, staring at the silver plaque that says ‘Female Tribute’. 

Charlie places a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to look over with watery eyes. He wants to tell her it’s okay, that she’ll be home before she knows it. However, he can only mumble a quiet, “If you need anything, you know where I am.”

Juniper only nods in response before walking forward through the automatic doors. Charlie sighs heavily and follows suit, heading into his room.

His eyes grow wide as he takes in the details of the room. On the large bed are more pillows than he needs as well as a thick duvet and a blanket, bland and minimalistic, in the same style as the entire train. He can’t help but give the fancy bedding a look of slight disgust. It’s so… over the top . Why does he need five pillows? He’s only ever used one, sometimes sharing it with Olly, so the concept is incredibly foreign to him. He sighs as he reluctantly finds a white top and silk pyjama bottoms to change into. 

Charlie shudders as he slips into the silk clothes, wondering how much he would get for them back home. From just one touch, he quickly realises that he could probably feed himself, Tori and Olly for a couple of months. He lets the material settle, pausing as he is unsure if he likes the feeling against his skin or not. It’s better than the scratchy material he’s used to, but at the same time, there’s something not quite right with how it feels. 

After getting ready for bed, he shuffles under the bedcovers and lies back on the mound of pillows. He squirms, tosses and turns as he tries to find a comfortable position. A few minutes pass and he ends up glaring at the ceiling. He huffs and sits up, throwing most of the pillows onto the floor so that he’s left with two. He flops back down and stares at the ceiling again, wishing on non-existent shooting stars that he can fall asleep and pretend his life is just a dream for a while. So, with one final sigh, he closes his eyes. 

An hour passes, and he feels like a pig on a spit with the number of times he's turned in the bed. He’s currently on his side, facing the large screen that Charlie realises is the TV. He moves his gaze to the bedside table and notices the remote, so he reaches out to grab it. He sits up, wrapping the blanket around him as he crosses his legs. He swipes a finger over the surface of the remote and the screen comes to life showing a bird’s eye view of the Capitol. Charlie almost rolls his eyes at the sight of the tall buildings and transport services as he swipes onto the next one. This one is even worse, this time showing the people of the Capitol in their outlandish and ridiculous outfits, laughing with their friends and families as they go about their day. Charlie swipes again, expecting to see another annoying film, but this time it shows a forest. He pauses and takes the entire film in as the trees sway with the wind, and small animals scurry up and down the trees.

It reminds him of home. 

Suddenly overwhelmed with anger and bitterness, he swipes the picture away and pulls the blanket off, his body too hot, and he storms out of his room. He breathes heavily as he walks through the train. When he gets to the lounge carriage, his eyes zone in on the crystal decanter, and he slowly makes his way towards it. 

“Normally, people turn to alcohol after the Games, not before,” a voice suddenly says.

Charlie jumps and spins around to see Darcy sitting across one of the cushioned chairs on the other side of the carriage. Her legs are dangling off one of her arms, and she throws her head back as she downs the contents of the glass in her hand.

“I wasn’t going to drink it,” Charlie says, only half telling the truth. 

Darcy rolls out of the chair and stumbles to where he stands. She pours herself another glass of the strong liquor and raises an eyebrow at him as she picks up the glass. “Have you ever actually had alcohol before?” she asks. 

“No,” Charlie mumbles in response. 

Darcy snorts. “Thought so.” Then, she holds the glass in front of him. “Try it.” 

Charlie stares at his mentor for a moment, wondering if she’s actually insane or not, but then he realises, the world he lives in is insane, so…

Fuck it. 

He tentatively takes the glass in his hand and brings it up to his lips. He takes a small sip and swallows, but the stench of the liquid burns his nose, and the taste burns the back of his throat as it goes down. 

“Blergh.” His face twists with a grimace as he hands the glass back to a chuckling Darcy. 

“That’s okay. It’s not for everyone,” she says with a smile. 

Charlie gives her a pointed look and wipes his mouth as he coughs a few times.

“Come and sit with me,” she continues, her voice sounding more serious than before. “I wanna show you something.”

Charlie silently follows her to the sofas in front of the large screen attached to the back wall. He sees Darcy use the remote control to swipe onto a channel that seems to show two extravagantly dressed men talking about the Games. 

“Now, you’re not supposed to see this just yet, but I wanted to give you a bit of extra advice,” Darcy starts as she presses play. 

“What about Juniper?” Charlie asks. 

“She’s too young,” Darcy sighs. “She’s been through enough already.” 

Charlie eyes Darcy suspiciously before turning to the screen again. A familiar burst of music plays and Charlie quickly realises that it’s the film they show before the reaping.

“Darcy, why are-” 

“Keep watching,” Darcy interrupts. 

Charlie presses his lips together and continues to watch. 

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to find out who our tributes are from each district. Enjoy!” 

Charlie can’t help but scoff as the video begins. It starts with a shot of the entire District 1 before cutting to the stage. A few moments later, the escort for District 1 – Emerald Prospero – walks out in a ridiculous heels and outfit, similar to the one Rebecca wore. She says her pre-written speech into the microphone, annoyingly cheerful as ever. 

When it reaches the moment the tributes are chosen, he sits up and he pays more attention.

“The female tribute for District One is,” Emerald pauses. “Pearl Bloom!” 

Charlie hears Darcy snort behind her glass. “What a dumb fucking name,” she mumbles. 

Charlie suppresses a smile as he watches a girl, maybe around his age, walk confidently onto the stage. She has a smug grin on her face and Charlie immediately dislikes her. 

“And now, the male tribute!” Emerald continues. She picks up the folded piece of paper and breathes into the microphone. “Harry Greene!”

Charlie takes in his slightly built and stocky frame as Harry saunters onto the stage and takes his place next to Emerald. 

“There we have it! Your tributes for District One!” Emerald finishes. 

Applause comes through the speakers as the camera zooms into Pearl, who is smiling and waving as if pretending to be the people’s princess. A chill runs down Charlie’s spine as the camera cuts to Harry; his eyes glint with confidence and wickedness as he smirks and waves at the audience. 

“Watch out for him,” Darcy says as the programme continues. “He’s the definition of a Career. He has trained his entire life for this moment. He won’t hesitate to kill. I can’t help you much with how to deal with him, but you’re smaller than him, so you’ll have a better chance at escaping if he’s trying to catch you. Another thing to note – he won’t be that smart either, so use that big brain of yours.” 

Charlie swallows thickly and nods to show Darcy he understands. Before he can dwell on what an encounter with Harry would be like, the TV shows the start of District 2’s reaping. Again, they sit through the introductory spiel from District 2’s Escort, Imogen Heaney, and then the actual reaping happens.

“Cassia Sharpe!” 

The girl in question appears on screen, looking a bit startled at first, but quickly recovers and her face morphs into something that resembles acceptance and determination. She makes her way onto the stage and stands tall. There is some kerfuffle regarding the many volunteers who stick their hands up, all of whom believe they are a better fit for the Games. However, the gentleman with the clipboard deems Cassia the best so she stays as tribute. 

Charlie has never understood how anyone would willingly put themselves forward like that. Yes, the children in those districts are trained from the moment they can walk, but it still blows his mind how the number of volunteers increases every year. The system put in place to choose the best tribute is a smart one, but just as evil.

“And now for the boys!” Imogen’s voice cuts through his racing thoughts. “Sami Zahid!” 

A young boy appears on the screen, looking terrified. Charlie’s heart pangs as he remembers Olly making that exact face when his name was called. In the distance, a scream sounds. The cameras show a distressed girl screaming and running after Sami as he makes his way to the stage. 

“That’s unusual,” Darcy comments, sitting up in her seat. 

Charlie watches as Peacekeepers restrain the girl. He’s about to look away when another voice shouts, “Hey! Hey! Don’t fucking touch her!” 

The camera moves to show a boy, tall and broad, pushing his way through the crowd of teenagers until he reaches the Peacekeepers, who try to keep him away. To Charlie and Darcy’s surprise, the boy puts up a strong fight until a Peacekeeper holds a gun to his chest. Charlie’s eyes widen and he finds himself sitting up straighter in his seat, feeling slightly apprehensive about what could happen. Darcy downs her drink, places the empty glass on the table, then rests her elbows on her knees as she watches. 

The camera shows some words being exchanged, but they aren’t heard. At least not until the boy suddenly shouts, “I volunteer!”

The sea of bodies around the square falls so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

Charlie continues to watch as the boy repeats the words, looking slightly frazzled by the whole ordeal. Eventually, he makes his way up to the stage as Peacekeepers keep their distance. 

When he gets onto the stage, the camera zooms closer, allowing the audience to see who their new tribute is. Charlie feels his heart hammer against his chest as he takes in the boy's appearance. His auburn hair is slightly tousled from the fight, a few strands coming over his dark eyes, which are full of anger. His cheekbones are sharp, and Charlie notices a muscle twitching every time he clenches his jaw. For a moment, Charlie feels something stir in his chest and his stomach as the boy stares down the camera.

For some reason, the footage cuts immediately to Imogen announcing Cassia and the boy – Nicholas , Charlie quickly learns – as District 2’s chosen tributes. 

“Why did they not show the decision to let others volunteer or not?” Charlie asks Darcy. 

Darcy sighs and leans back in her chair. “Do you not know who that is?” she asks in a tone that suggests Charlie should know the answer. He shakes his head.

“He has a reputation,” Darcy explains. “His brother is David Nelson, victor of the 68th Hunger Games. In other words, out of everyone in the entire district, he’s one of the best there is.” 

Another chill runs down Charlie’s spine as he takes in the information. He looks back at the screen. 

“There is a high possibility that he’ll be just as bad as his brother,” Darcy continues. “However, the fact that he practically beat up multiple Peacekeepers for that boy makes me think otherwise.”

“How come?” Charlie asks quietly.

Darcy takes the remote control and rewinds the footage until it lands on Nicholas’ face after he volunteers. “Look at him.” She points the remote at the screen.

Gladly, Charlie thinks. 

Charlie does a double take at that thought, but ignores it and packs it away for later so he can focus on what Darcy has to say. 

“Over the years, I’ve learned how to read each new tribute. I’ve gotten good at figuring out who is gonna be in with a good chance at winning.”

“What do you get from him?” Charlie asks. 

“Well…” she pauses. “I think he cares for that little boy a lot more than he’s meant to. Look at his eyes. He’s angry but also frightened. And, with the way he sounded when he volunteered, I suspect he surprised himself as well as everyone else.” 

“Oh,” is all Charlie can say. 

“I would keep my eye on him if I were you,” Darcy continues. “There’s more to him than meets the eye. He’s already shown a little bit of what he’s capable of. Imagine what he can do in an arena where you have to kill to survive.” 

Darcy fast-forwards the video and the next reaping starts to play. Charlie barely registers the names of the other Tributes as Darcy’s words repeat over and over in his mind. 

How can someone like Nicholas, who is clearly so protective of the people he cares for, be capable of ruthless killing? 

How the hell am I going to survive this?

***

The next morning, Charlie wakes up feeling exhausted. His mind was racing as he somehow managed to enter a restless sleep after watching the reapings with Darcy. It made everything more real.

He somehow finds the strength to get out of bed and get ready. The shower is, annoyingly, the best thing he’s experienced. He’s never seen so many bottles of shower gel and hair products – it’s vastly different to his home in 12, where the only thing they used was a bar of soap. He closes his eyes as the water cascades down his back. He can feel some of the tension leave his body as the warm pressured water falls onto his skin. He chooses a simple outfit to wear, straight black trousers and a shirt that is slightly too baggy on him, so he rolls up the sleeves to his elbow. 

He looks at himself in the full-length mirror and sighs, feeling a little alien in his own body. Before he can dwell on his appearance or how he got here, he makes his way to the dining carriage to see Rebecca and Juniper chatting over a variety of breakfast foods. 

“Ah! Charlie, do sit down and enjoy,” Rebecca exclaims as soon as she sees him enter the room. 

Charlie obliges, his stomach rumbling slightly at the various smells coming from the table. 

He starts with a piece of toast and allows himself to indulge in jam, orange juice and some fresh fruit. Each bite is hesitant and slow, which allows him to really taste each mouthful properly – he hates that he enjoys it so much. 

The three eat in comfortable silence, with the occasional scrape of cutlery against plates and the slurp of a drink. 

The silence is suddenly interrupted when the door slides open to reveal Darcy, and she bounds into the carriage with energy, despite looking tired. 

“Morning,” she greets them as she slides into a seat. She leans forward in the chair as she pours herself a cup of coffee. “Are we all ready for the big day ahead of us?” She looks at Charlie and Juniper expectantly, who merely shrug. 

“Wonderful,” Darcy says dryly. 

She takes a swig of her hot drink, then leans back in her chair and props her legs up on the edge of the table, her combat boots resting on the expensive wood as she crosses her ankles.

Rebecca gasps and is instantly out of her seat. “That is mahogany!” she scolds and picks up Darcy’s legs by the ankle, letting them fall onto the floor with a thump. 

Darcy just rolls her eyes and smirks in response. 

The rest of breakfast is less exciting and Rebecca starts to talk about the mundane list of things they have to do as soon as they arrive in the Capitol. Darcy talks about her experience when she was a tribute and shares her hatred for the fashion choices her stylist chose for her and the other District 12 tribute. 

Eventually, the train slows and suddenly, there are crowds of people screaming at the windows, inane makeup painted on their faces with gloved hands, waving at them all. Darcy scoffs and moves out of her seat, ending up by the alcohol section. She pours a hefty amount of liquid in her coffee then takes a big swig. 

“I hate people,” Darcy mutters bitterly. 

Thankfully, a few minutes later, they are plunged into darkness as they go through a tunnel. They slowly come to a stop, and Rebecca jumps to her feet. 

“Come on,” she exclaims. “We have things to do before the big parade!”

The journey from the train to the first building, the Remake Centre, as Charlie finds out, is a blur. He and Juniper are surrounded by Peacekeepers as they ensure the public is kept at a safe distance. Once they enter the centre, Juniper and Charlie are split into separate washing stations. There, Charlie is stripped and hosed down, his curls are tidied up with scissors, cuticles are cut and nails are filed into the perfect shape. 

Rebecca checks on how he is doing just as one of the assistants picks up tweezers and holds them in front of his eyes. 

“Ah, no!” Rebecca rushes to them. “Do not touch his brows. Only tidy them up!” 

The stylist nods and proceeds to pluck a few stray hairs at the sides of each brow and in between them above the bridge of his nose. 

“Honestly, you would think after all these years you would know what a great brow looks like!” Rebecca gasps to herself as she walks away. 

After the stylist team is done, they pack away their things and shuffle out of the room, leaving Charlie on his own. He lies on the steel bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as he tries to process everything that has happened to him in the last day or so.

He’s not sure how long he lies there, but his thoughts are interrupted by the door opening. He sits up with a start to see a tall woman walking towards him. She has her hair braided and wrapped into a halo around her head with golden gems evenly placed throughout. She moves with elegance and confidence, which is only exaggerated by what she wears: a black pantsuit with a delicate golden belt around the middle and a chiffon cape surrounding her from the shoulders. 

“Hi, Charlie,” she says. Her warm voice is soothing and a nice change from everyone else’s. “I’m Elle. I’m going to be your stylist.

Charlie tries to smile because he can see the kindness in her eyes, but judging by Elle’s reaction, the smile probably looks more like a grimace. 

“Come.” She gives him a sympathetic smile and holds out a manicured hand for him to take as he jumps onto the floor. “I must get you ready.” 

Charlie follows her through to the next room where he sees a raised platform in the middle next to a clothed mannequin.

Charlie internally groans at the sight. “Is that a mining outfit?” he asks. 

Elle smiles with a knowing glint in her eye. “Yes, but with a twist,” she replies. 

Charlie raises an eyebrow. 

“People will be watching you because you are the first volunteer District Twelve has ever had,” she begins. 

“Don’t remind me,” he mumbles to himself.

Elle continues as if she hadn’t heard him. “So, because of the possible interest, I want to make a statement. I want you and Juniper to surprise everyone as if you’re the underdogs.”

Charlie blinks at her. “I’m not following.”

Elle smiles and walks over to his outfit. “Look,” she says as she lifts the hem of the jacket to show another layer. It’s black and slimline with panels pointing to the belt. “It’s essentially two outfits. At first, it will appear like the regular miner outfits of washed-out dungarees and shirts. Everyone will expect this from District Twelve since your district is known for coal. However, once you get halfway, the belt will trigger a small flame, burning the first layers away within seconds, and that will leave you in a combat-ready outfit. It won’t be a real fire, but it will look real. For the rest of the parade, your suits will have a slight orange glow coursing through the panels to represent the embers of coal, but also the fire from your district, as well as the fire in your heart.” 

Charlie looks at her with wide eyes, lips parted in surprise. “That’s… pretty cool,” he admits. 

Elle beams at him. “Great! Now, try it on so I can make the final adjustments!” 

Surprisingly, everything fits perfectly. He feels comfortable in the skintight suit and it doesn’t feel as ridiculous as he anticipated. There are a few areas that are padded to add some dimension, Elle explains, but it still looks good. The shirt and the overalls, however, are baggy and crushed. It sums District 12 up pretty well, annoyingly. 

Elle lines up the belt of the combat suit with the second layer, so the clothes that will burn away can catch fire properly. As Elle’s assistant finishes tying up his combat boots and shuffles away, another stranger approaches with makeup brushes and palettes. The sight causes Charlie to shiver, but it goes unnoticed. 

It feels like they give him a new face and eyeballs, but when he sees the final result, it looks like they’ve hardly done anything at all. He peers into the small mirror they hold in front of him and sees black lining his eyes, slightly smudged but in a specific way. His eyebrows are thick, tidy and shaped, which seems to highlight his features even more. He turns his head and notices a shimmer on his cheekbones. Then he glances up and sees that there are a few red gems placed in his curly hair. 

“Let me see you,” Elle’s voice calls out softly. 

Charlie gulps and turns around, slowly revealing the entire look to Elle.

She squeals with delight as soon as he faces her and claps before putting her hands to her mouth. “Oh, it’s so good on you! And the makeup is perfect!” 

The door opens to reveal Rebecca. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have to get the tributes onto- Oh, Elle! He looks wonderful!” 

“Thank you, Becky.” Elle blushes. She turns back to Charlie. “Come on, let’s show them what you’ve got. Juniper should be ready too.” 

Charlie is guided to a large hall where every tribute stands in their outlandish outfits alongside heavily decorated chariots that are attached to strong horses. Luckily, their chariot is last so he doesn’t have far to walk. He sees Juniper already there and gives her a tight smile as he approaches. She’s visibly nervous and Charlie just wants to hug her, but he doesn’t because they are interrupted by Elle and Rebecca rattling off instructions. 

“All you have to do is stay calm and collected,” Elle says. “Remember that the fire is not real, it won’t harm you. It will start to burn maybe fifteen seconds after your chariot leaves the hall, so you have enough time to prepare for it.”

Charlie is about to ask a question when sudden hushed voices from a few chariots over on his left grab his attention. He doesn’t hear what is being said, but he sees the tributes from District 2 whisper to each other. The boy, Nicholas, has a scowl on his face, and the girl looks pissed. Charlie sees their team tell them to calm down as Nicholas straightens up. 

That’s when Charlie realises how tall and broad the other boy is. He feels himself flush with warmth at the sight as he takes in the golden chest plate and decorative cuffs that accentuate the strength of his body. 

His gaze is interrupted by fingers snapping in front of his eyes. He whips his head around to see Darcy looking at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “What are you staring at?” 

“N-Nothing,” Charlie stutters.

“Right,” Darcy replies slowly. 

For a moment, he thinks Darcy will ask more questions, but instead she turns to Capitol officials and nods. 

“Well, it’s time. Up you go,” she says and points to their chariot. 

Charlie releases a heavy breath and holds his hand out to Juniper to help her step up, quickly following after. They both hold onto the side of the chariot with tight grips. Just as they hear the horns play the introductory anthem, Darcy comes up to the chariot again. 

“Rebecca wants you to smile,” Darcy starts with a huff. “I say do whatever you want. Smile, laugh, wave, keep a straight face, whatever. But whatever you do, do not look weak. Do not look scared or like you’re about to cry. Turn that fear into determination and anger. Be fierce. Got it?” 

Charlie and Juniper nod, and then Charlie looks down at the little girl, who is now nibbling on her lower lip anxiously. 

“We can do this,” Charlie says softly. “It’s only for a short amount of time. Just look straight ahead, and ignore everyone else. If you need to hold my hand, do it.” 

“I’ll try.” Juniper nods, looking up at Charlie with big eyes. Charlie is suddenly reminded of how similar she is to Olly; full of innocence and vulnerability, forced to participate in something they were born into. Yet, there’s a spark of determination in them, a hint of resolve, that reminds him of Tori too. 

“Thanks,” Juniper adds in a whisper, and some of the anger that Charlie feels simmering underneath his skin dissipates.

They share one last smile before they see the other chariots begin to move out of the hall. The sound of the cheering and screaming crowd grows louder with each district revealing their tributes. It's slightly unsettling.

The fact that people of the Capitol cheer on teenagers like celebrities without caring that all but one will die in two weeks… It’s just a game to them, entertainment. But for Charlie, Juniper, and the rest of the tributes – it’s life or death. 

The lurch of his body as the chariot is pulled away breaks him out of his trance. Before he knows it, he has to squint because of the blinding light shining into his eyes and he’s almost deafened by the roar of cheers from the audience. Charlie keeps his head steady as he looks around at the excited faces of the crowd. After he’s seen enough, he goes back to looking forward and that’s when he starts to feel it. 

Like Elle said, it doesn’t hurt. It’s more of a tickle. As the dungarees and jackets burn away, the crowd grows even louder. He feels Juniper slip her hand into his and so he gives her a little squeeze of comfort. He looks up at the large screen to see how they look. 

Damn, Elle. You really are amazing. 

Seeing the orange glow shimmer and spread throughout their suits makes them look fierce and strong. And whether she meant to or not, Juniper’s decision to hold hands at that moment makes them look like a team; they’re standing tall together as they emerge from the ashes to show who they really are. 

It gives Charlie a sliver of hope.

***

Once the parade is over, Charlie and Juniper are guided back to their accommodation so that they can “relax and rest before the training starts” – Charlie doesn’t know how anyone can relax in this situation. Now that one part of the Games is over, he feels even more antsy than usual. He knows what’s coming next, and he’s not looking forward to it. 

But first, he wants to change into more breathable clothes before he has to sit through dinner. He decides to try out the shower but has some difficulty trying to figure out how to turn the damn thing on as it’s somehow even more elaborate than the train’s shower. 

It almost makes him miss the shitty baths he’s so used to. 

Eventually, he managed to shower and clean away the makeup and sweat that had appeared thanks to the tight suit he’d had on for so long. He slips into clothes similar to the one he went to bed in, only this time they’re black and dark blue. 

When he finds the dining area of the accommodation, he’s the last one to join the table. 

“Oh, Charlie, I was just saying how wonderful you both were out there!” Rebecca says with a dramatic sigh. “Truly spectacular! You both looked so strong and ready for the Games! We’re definitely going to get some sponsors!”

Charlie pinches his lips together to form a tight smile as he takes his seat. 

“You should try this! It’s got goose liver inside. It’s delightful!” Rebecca encourages him as she waves to the dish in question. 

Charlie makes a face when he hears the words ‘goose liver’ and is quick to shake his head to decline. Instead, he sticks to what he knows and helps himself to some chicken and a simple mix of vegetables. Each bite fills his mouth with flavour that he never thought he would experience, so he allows himself to enjoy it. 

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Charlie and Juniper stay quiet whereas Rebecca and Elle gossip and discuss the other outfits that were worn at the tribute parade. Charlie zones in and out of the conversation, but every so often he hears the words ‘ridiculous’, ‘spectacular’, ‘unusual’ and ‘handsome’. 

“I especially loved District Two,” Elle says as she continues her train of thought. “They must have gotten a new stylist because it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Their tributes looked like they were…” 

“Gods!” Rebecca shrills as she dramatically fans her face. “I’m sure the boy tribute will have hundreds of sponsors based on his looks alone, although his brother’s reputation will help, too.” 

Charlie bites down on his chicken harder than intended as he tries to keep his face neutral. A flash of annoyance courses through his veins as Rebecca talks about Nicholas as if he is a marble statue on show for the world to see and not a teenage boy who has been trained to kill since before he could walk. So what if he has good bone structure, a good body, strength of a thousand men, perfect hair and welcoming hazel eyes and-

Charlie stops mid-chew as he realises where his brain is heading. 

Nope. We are not going there today, Charlie. You are not allowed. Especially when the boy you’re daydreaming of will probably put you high on his kill list!

Charlie feels his body flush with warmth and suddenly, he feels the need to be alone. He puts his cutlery down on either side of the plate and scrapes his chair back. The conversation around him stops and everyone turns to look at him with confusion evident in their faces. 

“Sorry, I just… I’ve had enough,” he says, excusing himself. He doesn’t wait for anyone to reply as he turns on his heel and speed walks to his bedroom. 

He runs a hand through his hair as the door opens at his arrival, not being able to slam the door behind him only adding to his frustration. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he flops onto his bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He wallows in annoyance, guilt and self-pity for a few minutes before he rolls over and stares at the ceiling. He covers his face with his hands and groans into his palms for what feels like the umpteenth time since he’s left District 12.

He wants to step outside of his body and punch himself in the face because why the fuck is he feeling… that kind of way about another tribute? Especially when said tribute is a Career, who knows how to heartlessly kill someone without a second thought. 

The worst part, Charlie thinks to himself, is that everything he feels towards the boy is purely based on his physicality and looks. He knows nothing about Nicholas besides the fact that his brother is a victor and that he looked damn good in his costume. In Charlie’s mind, he’s no better than Imogen or the rest of the screaming fans who want to get into bed with him.

Get it together, Charlie. You’re probably going to die in a week. You should not be thinking about your shitty love life.

Charlie forces himself up off the bed and into the bathroom. He washes his face with cold water, as if to snap him out of his current train of thought, and then quickly brushes his teeth. 

A few minutes later, he clambers back into bed and pulls the covers over his head with a huff. 

Sleep didn’t come easily, nor was it a very comfortable sleep. He dreamed of the parade and all of the possible ways it could have gone wrong. He dreamed of Tori and Olly, too. His mind had placed them in an arena that looked like last year’s Games. He tried to get to them but failed. The same moment kept repeating over and over and stayed in his mind until he woke up. 

His whole body ached from thrashing and turning throughout the night. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He wished that he was back in District 12, but it was a hopeless wish because the bed was too soft to feel like his old one and the sheets were too soft and smelled too clean to even pretend that he was back home. 

For the first time in a while, Charlie wakes up crying. He blinks away the tears ready to fall and sits up. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to relieve some pressure before sitting up, the duvet falling from his chest onto his lap. 

“Hey, Charlie,” a voice sounds from outside his door. “You should get dressed and have breakfast. You need to fuel yourself up for training.” 

It’s Darcy. 

Charlie clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. I won’t be long,” he replies, his voice scratchy thanks to sleep and crying. 

Charlie sees Darcy’s silhouette become faint as she moves away, but then she pauses. “I’ve left your training clothes at your door.” She doesn’t wait for a reply. 

Charlie bites his lower lip to stave off more tears and takes a deep breath before reluctantly heading to the ensuite for a shower. 

The warm water and the high pressure help his brewing headache and sore neck, but his mind is still reeling as much as it was in his sleep. As he wraps his towel around his waist, he groans at himself for forgetting to grab his clothes before showering. He rushes out of the bathroom, the change in air temperature nipping at his damp skin, and when he reaches the bedroom door, it opens automatically. He curses the sensor and grabs the clothes and the boots off the floor without looking to see if anyone is there.

He quickly changes into the clothes and immediately hates how it feels against his skin. The top is tighter than expected and, despite being a soft material, the collar itches his neck. The tracksuit bottoms fit perfectly, but he still makes sure to tie a knot to make sure he doesn’t embarrass himself during an exercise.

He looks at himself in the mirror, feeling out of place and no longer like himself. He takes in the black top with red and grey stripes on either side of the shoulders, and notices a grey number twelve on each sleeve. 

Anger flashes through his body and he clenches his fists to stop himself from acting on it. Seeing the number so plainly against the black reminds him that the Gamemakers, the government and the people of Panem, only see him as a number. 

He’s no longer just Charlie. He’s no longer someone with a history, with a family and friends. 

Instead, he’s just Charlie Spring, tribute for District 12.

Chapter Text

As soon as he sits down at the table for breakfast, Charlie feels Darcy’s eyes on him. Without acknowledging anyone, he helps himself with scrambled eggs, toast, and a banana. 

“Right, now that you’re both here,” Darcy starts talking, despite her mouth being full of toast, which Elle makes a face at. “First things first, tell me what you think you should focus on in the training centre?” 

Charlie swallows his bite of food before looking at Darcy’s icy glare. “Look at the other tributes?” he suggests. 

The corner of Darcy’s mouth quirks up, and she nods once. “Yes, look around and practice reading people. Figure out who you would want as an ally, if you were to need one.” 

Charlie nods in understanding and takes another bite of his toast, which is now quite dry. 

“Another thing I’ve learned over the years is that you should focus on your weakest skills,” Darcy continues. “Don’t go in there and start shooting bullseyes on multiple targets, or figure out a new way to camouflage yourself. The Careers will do that, but they’re just trying to intimidate you. They're trying to figure out who is weak, and who to gang up on first. Don’t show them what you’ve got until you’re inside the arena. Save it for the private sessions; you’ll be in with a better chance at getting a higher score, and a high score will surprise the other tributes and make them anxious.” 

“So what are we meant to do then?” Charlie argues. 

Darcy sighs impatiently. “Stick together, learn new skills that will help you survive, and start to make a game plan.” 

“Should I practice throwing knives?” Juniper pipes up quietly. “I told you I’m not very good, so it wouldn’t be exposing a skill, right?” 

Darcy pauses mid-chew to think. “That’s… actually not a bad idea. You could even ask the trainer at the station for help if you really need it. But the second you start to get good, move to a new station.” 

Juniper nods with a newfound determination in her eyes. Charlie can’t help but smile. She’s so young and still finding it in her to make the best out of a shitty situation. It makes Charlie wish he could momentarily ignore the weight of the reality of what their lives are now. Maybe then he could feel hopeful again. 

They carry on having breakfast, with Darcy occasionally interrupting the silence to give him and Juniper some advice. 

The more Darcy talks, the more Charlie notices that there is something different about Darcy. Charlie soon realises that her eyes are a little brighter, her hand is steady whenever she goes to pick up her drink or grabs more food, and her shoulders aren’t as tense as she leans back in her chair. 

The question of “what’s different about Darcy” bounces around his mind throughout the rest of breakfast, and only leaves his brain when the door slides open and Rebecca walks in. 

Charlie almost chokes on his drink as he takes in her appearance; she has a short dress on, which at first looks like a sunset orange with black detailing, but after a few seconds, Charlie realises that it’s actually decorated with hundreds of tiny butterflies layered on top of each other. The butterflies continue up to her neck, growing in size until they reach her chin. Her hair and makeup are in a similar design, with butterflies placed on one side of her braided purple bun, and again at the corner of each eye where they sit, complimenting the orange on her eyelids. 

Elle, however, gasps and stands up to greet her with a loose hug and fake kisses on both cheeks. “Becky, what a wonderful dress! Your stylists really have outdone themselves with this one.”

“Aw, thank you!” Rebecca says in delight as she puts her hands to her chest, her eyes looking akin to those of a puppy who's just been told they're a good dog. The smile she gives Elle is genuine compared to her normally forced one. "I really wanted real butterflies but there would have been an issue with keeping them in one place. One can dream though," she adds with a soft sigh.

“Anyway!” Rebecca claps her hands together. “It’s almost time to leave for your first day of training. So, finish your food and get ready. We leave in five minutes!”

With that, Charlie drains his glass and stands up, his chair scraping back loudly. He hurries back to his room to rinse out his mouth and brush his teeth. Before he leaves, he takes one last look at himself in the mirror.

“One day at a time,” he mumbles to himself. 

He meets Juniper and Darcy at the front door of their accommodation, and they are quickly joined by a Peacekeeper who leads them to the lift. Charlie falls into step with Juniper and looks to either side of them. 

“You okay?” he asks softly, leaning closer to her ear. 

“Yeah,” she replies in a similar tone of voice. “You?”

“Same.” They exchange soft smiles. 

They walk another few steps before Charlie feels a poke in his side. 

“Have you noticed anything different about Darcy today?” Juniper asks out of the blue. 

“You know what, I have, actually,” Charlie says. “She seems more… level-headed?” 

Juniper hums in response but says nothing else as they reach the lifts. 

The Peacekeeper ushers them inside the glass compartment and nobody says a word as the lift door closes. Charlie can feel an awkward tension seeping into his skin, all the way to his bones and he has to suppress a shiver. He is suddenly aware of his own breathing, Juniper’s breathing, and Darcy’s presence behind him. The dread he felt last night and this morning returns, the knot in the pit of his stomach becoming bigger with each level they pass as they get closer to the training centre. 

He feels the lift slow down, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He reluctantly takes a step forward, following the Peacekeeper. They’re led through winding corridors, which somehow cause his stomach to twist even more until they finally arrive at the entrance of the cavernous space that is the training area. 

With one last look back at Darcy, who gives them a slight encouraging nod, Charlie and Juniper cross the threshold and silently join the other tributes. Charlie feels many pairs of eyes on him and looks to see a few of the Careers looking them up and down, sneers appearing on their faces. He quickly looks away, but not before catching the eye of Nicholas from District 2. 

Charlie’s entire body warms, and he realises that Nicholas isn’t sneering. Instead, he looks almost… somber. Charlie feels his breath hitch, so he shifts his eyes to focus on the instructor standing in front of them.

What could that possibly mean?

Charlie’s thoughts are interrupted by the head instructor finally speaking. 

“Good morning, everyone,” she says loudly, her face depressingly serious. “In two weeks, twenty three of you will be dead. One of you will be alive. Who that is will depend on how well you pay attention over the next four days – particularly to what I’m about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes. You will have plenty of time for that in the arena. There are four compulsory exercises. The rest will be individual training. My advice is don’t ignore the survival skills. Everybody wants to grab a weapon of some sort, whether it be a sword or an axe, but most of you will die from natural causes; ten percent from infection, twenty percent from dehydration, and so on. Exposure can kill just as easily as a knife.

“Now, I’ll go through each station and explain how…”

Charlie feels his mind begin to spin at the blatant ease of how the trainer spoke about his likely demise. He suddenly feels like a tiny speck of dust in the universe, waiting to be swept up by the next gust of wind and deposited in a mound of horse manure. He takes a deep, steady breath and clenches his hands into fists at his side. The instructor’s words are clearer now, but they still go in one ear and out the other. 

Charlie slowly moves his gaze over the training stations situated behind the trainer, noticing a rack of menacing looking metal balls in various sizes, several spears and axes with different heads, as well as the beginning of multiple different levelled platforms. Charlie feels his nerves spike, so he quickly tears his eyes away and sees a few of the younger tributes turning to look around as well, which brings him some slight comfort. 

And then it happens again. 

Charlie’s eyes land on Nicholas. The District 2 tribute has a laser-like focus on the trainer at the front. His face is a complete contrast to before, Charlie notices – it’s  hardened into a look of hatred and determination. Nicholas’ jaw pulses every time he clenches the muscle, and his chest visibly rises with each breath. 

Charlie can’t help but feel a little bit flushed at the sight, so he takes another deep breath and looks back at the trainer for the final few words of her speech. 

With a nod of the head, the trainer signals for the tributes to head to a station. It takes a moment for Charlie’s mind to send instructions to his feet as he forces himself to move. He looks to his left to see Juniper in a similar state of worry and indecisiveness, so he gently nudges her arm with his elbow. She looks up at him with wide eyes. 

Charlie indicates for her to follow him with a nod of the head, and she does with a few less worry lines showing on her forehead. Charlie leads them over to the fire starting station as there are only two other tributes there. As they get closer, he realises that they are the twins from District 7, Ivy and Silas Woodrow.

Charlie makes sure that he and Juniper keep their distance, but the twins still look up at their arrival. Charlie braves it and smiles at them before taking a seat, Juniper quickly copying him. The twins seem to freeze for a second before they glance at each other, as if in silent conversation with one another. Silas looks back at Charlie and gives him a slight nod before going back to sorting out the fire making materials in front of him. 

Charlie releases a sigh of relief and then turns to Juniper. “So, do you know how to start a fire at all?” 

Surprisingly, she does. Apparently, her brother had taught her one method so that if the fire ever went out in their house, she would be able to restart it herself. Charlie allows her to explain and show how it works. He follows her hand movements with his eyes and nods along encouragingly, despite already knowing a few things himself. It’s worth it to see the smile on her face when they both manage to start small fires. 

They’re extinguishing the flames when Juniper softly speaks. “My brother tried his best to teach me everything. He was so determined about it. It’s as if he knew I’d be picked one day.” 

Charlie’s heart aches for her. “Well, he did a good job,” he says brightly, trying to keep the mood positive, or as positive as they can be.

Juniper smiles sadly and looks back at the dying embers. “He called me June, sometimes Junie. Nobody else ever did. He always believed that people thought nicknames were pointless because they’d probably die quickly. But he liked to think of them as a way to express your love for someone. Something to make your world a little brighter. A small thing you could hold onto.”

“That’s a wonderful way to look at things,” Charlie replies warmly. 

Juniper just shrugs, then looks up at Charlie with a bit of apprehension written across her face. “Would…” she trails off with a heavy sigh then looks away again. 

“What?” Charlie asks.

“If you wanted to… I wouldn't mind it if you were to call me June.” She sends him a small, bittersweet smile. 

Charlie feels his heart hurt and swell with so much melancholic sadness as he realises that, despite not knowing each other for long, she already sees him as a brother. He feels his eyes sting with tears, but he blinks them back and takes a deep breath. Suddenly speechless, all he does is reach out to take her hand in his and squeezes it tightly. 

They smile at each other understandingly before sweeping up the cold ashes on the ground. 

“Um… Hi,” a voice suddenly says.

Charlie and Juniper look up to see Ivy Woodrow looking down at them. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear and watch you two as you were making your fire,” she continues. 

“Okay?” Charlie says slowly, but it almost sounds like a question as he is unsure of what to say. 

Ivy smiles tightly and comes to sit down in front of them. “Do you wanna know a cool way to start a fire for cooking that allows you to stay concealed?” 

Charlie feels his stomach twinge with a flicker of hope. 

“Yeah, sure,” Charlie replies with an enthusiastic nod. 

Ivy’s face breaks out into an excited grin. “Great!” She shuffles forward and pulls out two sharpened sticks. “Me and Silas call it Rebel’s Fire. Basically, you dig two pits a foot apart – one slightly smaller than the other – and then link them together with a tunnel. In theory, one pit should be for the fire and the other uses the tunnel hole to suck the air which will keep it hot and reduce the amount of smoke. It’s simple once you get the hang of it. And the best thing about it is that when you’re done, you just fill in the holes, and it’s like you were never there.” 

Charlie gapes at Ivy with wide eyes. “Holy shit, that’s so cool!” he exclaims. 

“Isn’t it?!” she replies with excitement. 

“Sorry, but why is it called Rebel’s Fire?” Juniper asks shyly, not fully making eye contact with either of them. She seems to be far more entranced watching Ivy’s movements.

“Well, back during the…” Ivy glances around to make sure there’s no Peacekeeper or trainer within earshot before continuing to speak, “Rebellion, the rebels needed a way to cook the food they had without giving away their position. So, they invented this technique. It helped them be able to remain discreet while cooking meat and other things.” 

She doesn’t wait for Charlie or Juniper to reply before jumping into teaching them the fire hole method. They watch with rapt attention, Charlie making sure to commit everything Ivy tells them to memory. In a lot of ways, he feels as if they’ve just found yet another mentor in Ivy. Her patience while they figure out the best way to dig isn’t lost on Charlie, nor are her words of encouragement when they finally do it correctly.

After they’ve perfected their technique, the trio are interrupted by a trainer announcing that every tribute must finish at their current stations and make their way over to ropes and hoops courses for the first compulsory exercise. 

The tributes line up in single file in district order, meaning Charlie has to go last. The trainer explains that each tribute will have two goes at this exercise – the first is to showcase their skills, and the second is to apply any advice given so they can improve. 

First up is Pearl. She steps up with a certain level of smugness evident in her face and posture that really pisses Charlie off; he has to use all of his strength to not roll his eyes. Everyone watches as she climbs up the rope net with ease and grabs the first ring and pushes off with no hesitation. She swings back and forth a few times, gaining momentum until she’s able to grab the next ring in front. She repeats these movements for the rest of the course, changing technique and approach with every new bend and random pole she comes across. 

She finishes with a slightly heavy landing and places a hand on the mat to stabilise herself. She smirks triumphantly as she makes her way off the platform and to the side to watch everyone else. 

Next is Harry, who does well, unsurprisingly, but struggles to gather momentum at the end, so his landing is less graceful than his fellow tribute’s. It makes Charlie want to laugh a little. 

Cassia then steps up, taking a few breaths as if to psych herself up. Charlie peers around the people in front to get a better view. He manages to see more of her face – she looks frightened. 

Is she… scared of heights? Interesting.

Cassia ends up failing just as she reaches halfway. She lets out a frustrated cry as she hits the ground. She gets up immediately, with no visible injury; it's her pride and dignity that took the hit. She has a sour look on her face as she goes to stand next to Harry. 

Charlie looks back at the start of the course just in time to see Nicholas step up. Charlie gulps as he sees Nicholas square his shoulders before placing his hands strategically on the rope net in front of him. Charlie watches him tug at the rope once before hauling himself up with ease, quickly climbing up to the next section. Nicholas stretches out and grabs the hoops in succession the first time around. 

There’s an eerie silence that has come over the line of tributes as they watch Nicholas make his way to the other side, everyone clearly aware and in awe of his skill and strength. 

Charlie feels that familiar warmth creep up his neck as he sees Nicholas’ biceps strain and flex as they work against his hefty weight. He’s fluid and smooth despite that, though, and he lands effortlessly. Charlie doesn’t even think Nicholas broke a sweat. 

Charlie suddenly feels a little thirsty. 

He keeps his eyes, unwillingly, on Nicholas as he takes his place next to Cassia with a hard, emotionless expression on his face, his arms folded across his chest. 

Charlie continues to watch as Nicholas scans the line of tributes, despite knowing he should look away. 

Their eyes meet again and Charlie chooses to blame the light for the softening of Nicholas’ facial expression because there is no logical reason for a Career to not look like they want to kill you. 

Charlie finally peels his eyes away from Nicholas and remembers Darcy’s advice about how their time in the training centre is the best time to study the other tributes. So, for the rest of the activity, he does just that. He makes mental notes about where Ben fails thanks to his arrogance, why swinging too far in one direction causes Ada’s hand to slip, and before he knows it, Juniper is making her way to the rope net. 

Charlie notices her fingers trembling at her side, so Charlie leans forward slightly, hoping it’s not obvious to everyone else. “Don’t overthink it too much. Go with your gut,” he mumbles with minimal lip movement. “You can do it, June.” 

Her trembling hands still immediately, and she takes a deep breath, nodding to herself, before making her way up the net. Charlie holds his breath as he watches her reach out for the first ring. She grabs onto it and lets herself swing forward, lifting her feet up to gain momentum. She manages to grab the second hoop, and Charlie releases the breath.

Juniper manages to get halfway before she mistimes a reach and her fingers slip, causing her to fall to the ground. She softens the landing with her hands in front of her, and Charlie has to hold himself back from going over to see if she’s okay. Luckily, she stands up quickly, keeping her eyes on the ground as she walks over to the line. 

Then it dawns on Charlie that it’s his turn. 

He slowly approaches the net and breathes, willing his heart to slow down. He wipes his sweaty palms against his trousers and takes hold of the net. 

He pulls himself up, quickly finding his footing and climbs to the top. 

So far, so good, he thinks. 

The hoops glint a vibrant red thanks to the bright lights shining onto them, causing them to seem a little more daunting than they did previously. 

With another breath, he reaches out and grabs the cold metal, tugging it once to make sure it’s secure. He eyes the second one in the distance and inhales deeply, then allows himself to swing. 

The one second that he’s in slight freefall is almost peaceful and freeing, but that quickly disappears as he reaches out to grab the other hoop. He immediately feels his arms strain at the slight stretch, but he breathes through it. When he feels ready, he lifts the hoop off the first bar and catches it on another one ahead. He repeats this process a few times, adjusting the swing for the different heights and levels of the bar. His shoulders are screaming at him to stop, but he breathes through the pain. He tightens his grip as much as he can through the sweat his palms are producing and swings forward. Somehow, he manages to get enough momentum that he ends up skipping the next metal pole and catches the hoop on a further away one. He groans at the strain the extra distance caused and bites his lip to minimise the whimper that could leave his mouth. He looks at the rest of the course and realises that he’s passed the halfway point, so he’s done better than the majority already. With another grunt of effort, he uses whatever strength he has left to pull his body higher with his legs going back and forth. 

He kicks forward again, but the ring in his hand behind him gets caught on a smaller metal bar sticking out. Because of this, his momentum propels his body forward and the sweat causes the hoop to slip from his grasp. He gasps at the sudden realisation that he will most likely have to drop to the ground. He brings his free hand up to hold the one remaining hoop and looks back. 

There is no way to grab it, he determines, so he accepts his fate as his hands start to slip again and lets go. 

He lands on his feet with a quiet groan and falls backwards onto his back. He awaits for any pain to suddenly appear, but thankfully, none comes. So, he pushes himself up and takes in a deep breath of air to fill his lungs.

He knows he shouldn’t be annoyed with his performance. He knows he isn’t the strongest. He did better than he thought he would, thanks to his surveying skills. The only perk of being last, he jokes to himself bitterly.

The remainder of this first group training session drags, thanks to the trainer speaking with each tribute thoroughly in order to help them improve. It’s a lot more advice than Charlie expected, but he listens carefully when it’s his turn. Thankfully, there is less of a crowd watching as the Careers have dispersed. However, just as he climbs the net, he sees Nicholas watching from another station close by. 

He tries to push away the feeling of Nicholas’ stare and focus on the activity at hand. The trainer's advice is clear in his mind: he should aim for smoother swings, avoiding stops and starts, while conserving his energy for the second half.

He breathes through every swing and grab, miraculously reaching the end and Charlie manages to swing onto the landing mat. His hands are red and sweaty, a few blisters already threatening to appear, but it doesn’t matter. He’s improved, he’s learned. 

He allows himself to smile, and the trainer gives him a well done nod.

He huffs out a sigh of relief and makes his way to Juniper, who is at the fishhook station. He can’t help but look back at the hoop course, and again, his eyes meet with Nicholas’. 

For the rest of the day, Charlie and Juniper keep their heads down as they brush up on their survival and combat skills. A while later, Charlie notices Juniper constantly looking over to the knives station, so he offers to go to the station with her. She smiles gratefully and nods before they go over together. Thankfully, the only other tributes throwing knives are from District 10. They don’t even acknowledge Charlie and Juniper, too focused on throwing knives into the moving block of lights that form the targets. 

The boy from 10 is quick to react to each new target that appears, almost hitting each one perfectly. With his last throw, he lets out a gasp and steps back. He glares at his hand, which suddenly has blood running down his index finger. 

Charlie overhears 10’s fellow tribute huff as she practically pushes him forward and over to a nearby medic station. 

“Come on,” Charlie says softly to Juniper. “Show me what your brother taught you.” 

Juniper takes a shaky breath and steps forward up to the case of knives. She grabs five and quickly sets up the program on the glass panel before readying herself.

There’s a loud hum and bright orange lasers appear, moving back and forth, as if to taunt Juniper. Suddenly, the lasers form a faceless figure who springs into action immediately. Juniper reacts quickly, throwing one knife by the handle and it disappears into the orange blocks of light, right where the heart would be if it was a real person.

Before Charlie can fully realise what’s  happened, Juniper throws another knife in the direction of the new target moving towards her – once again, getting a pretty clean shot. She continues with the next target, this time switching her technique up to throw by the blade. 

As the final knife disappears in the distance, the orange lasers swoop upwards, signalling the end of the program. Juniper steps back and releases a huff of breath before hesitantly looking up at Charlie. 

All he can do is gape at her. “That was incredible!” he exclaims. “You never said you were that good!”

A blush appears on her cheeks and she smiles. “I guess so.” 

“You should believe in yourself more,” Charlie continues softly. “Now you can teach me if you want?”

Juniper grins and grabs a few more knives for them to share. She explains the many different ways of holding the knife and also how to throw it. The knife feels weird in Charlie’s hand. It’s small, but weighted and definitely deadly. It’s a little intimidating. 

Juniper explains that he should start with stationary targets, to get the feel of things first. He agrees with a nod and lets her set up the program. 

He focuses his senses as the electrical hum of the lasers begins to sound. He feels the knife’s handle in his sweaty palm as he keeps his eyes alert for the first target. 

The block of orange appears to his left, and he lifts his arm back above his head and uses every bit of strength in his upper body to release the knife.

Surprisingly, the target crumbles, indicating that he managed to hit it – albeit not very accurately as the figure crumbled from the leg outwards.

Still, he hit it. So, that’s something.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by another target materialising on the other side, so he throws another knife, hoping to have somehow improved in the last thirty seconds. 

He hits it again, but his accuracy is still poor.

He throws and throws, trying out the different techniques he was shown until the program ends, slightly improving on the last throw. He steps back, feeling both proud and annoyed at his performance.

“That was quite good,” Juniper says encouragingly. “For someone who hasn't thrown a knife before, that is.”

“Hmm,” Charlie responds with a heavy sigh.

He much prefers a bow and arrow. 

The pair spend a few more rounds at the knife throwing station until a trainer announces that today’s training session is over. Charlie feels more comfortable with throwing knives now, but he’s decided to let Juniper deal with everything knife-related. 

She really has surprised him. She is so much more than the scared little girl he first saw at the reaping. She’s silently strong, determined and has a lot more skill than she lets on. It gives Charlie a faint glimmer of hope knowing that she has the ability to protect herself in the arena.

The twenty four tributes shuffle their way out of the training room, their escorts leading them to the lifts. They’re split into groups of six as they wait for their lift to arrive. One escort all but shoves the first group past the glass doors. Charlie and Juniper are next in line, and it's only a few minutes to wait until they are also shoved into the lift. Charlie scowls at the floor as he walks to the back of the space. He turns around to see Juniper slightly stumble towards him, but she smiles as if to assure him that she’s okay. He’s about to send another scowl towards the Peacekeeper when the other tributes follow. He composes his face when he realises that Nicholas and the other tribute from 2 are the last to enter. 

Charlie immediately looks at the ground, feeling warmer than he already was because of training. He hates that he’s so affected by Nicholas. He should be focusing on learning how to survive, not crushing on another tribute. A tribute who may end up killing him no less. 

Charlie takes a deep breath and decides to look ahead and ignore everyone else in the lift, which starts moving as he does so. In his periphery, he sees the other tributes. He feels a pair of eyes on him, so he dares to look further to his right. 

He regrets it immediately because the boy from District 4, Ben, is staring at him from his place beside Nicholas. His eyes are cold but somehow also mixed with what appears to be curiosity and… something else Charlie can’t name.

Charlie suppresses a shudder and looks away quickly. As the lift slows to a stop, he continues to feel Ben’s eyes on him. Charlie instinctively tries to take a step back, but he is met with the wall of the lift, so he just looks away again. This time, he makes the mistake of looking to the other side and notices Nicholas looking at him for a split second. It’s such a contrast to Ben. Nicholas’ eyes are softer and cause a sense of calm to overcome Charlie. The moment is broken quickly when Nicholas and Cassia are ushered out of the lift by their escort, and the calm leaves with them. 

Thankfully, the journey to level four is short, so, as he straightens his spine, Charlie chances another glance at Ben as he leaves, whose expression has turned into one of slight disgust. Charlie isn’t sure why, but he tries to push it out of his mind as the lift doors close, leaving himself and Juniper alone with the final escort.

For some reason, the interaction with Ben has made him feel more exhausted than the entire day of training. 

***

The next day, Charlie makes sure to keep his distance from Ben. When they first enter the training space, Charlie waits to see what station Ben goes to, before promptly guiding Juniper to a station in the opposite direction, which turns out to be allocated to knot tying and trap-making. Charlie and Juniper listen to the trainer at the station, focusing on how they can trap someone with a basic knot, causing their target to dangle from a high height if needed. 

The trainer soon leaves them to practice and heads over to other tributes who have joined the station. Charlie looks around and scooches closer to Juniper.

“Do you want to know a trick my dad taught me before he died?” he asks quietly. 

“Sure,” Juniper replies with a nod.

“So, my dad was originally from District Three, but moved to twelve to stay with my mother,” he begins. “He was able to make things out of scraps and even showed me how to catch rabbits and squirrels if we ever ran out of food.” He moves to the table full of materials, Juniper following close behind. Charlie surveys each remaining thing before picking up a tin box filled with wires and ropes, as well as a knife and a small toolkit. 

They head back to their spot, and Charlie lays out everything in front of them. He empties the tin box and immediately reaches for the pocketknife in the toolkit, using a small screwdriver to pry it open. He can feel Juniper’s attentive gaze as he creates a few holes on either side, threading multiple wires through the holes in record time and with practised ease. It doesn’t take long for the tin box and lid to resemble something that looks similar to a trap and Charlie makes a final adjustment by attaching a thin rope and pulling it tight. He watches the tin carefully, waiting for the right amount of tension to show before stabbing the makeshift ground with a hunting knife and securing the rope around it. 

“Right,” he mumbles. “If I’ve done it correctly, when something goes into the box, it should send vibrations down the wire I’ve tied through the holes, and trigger the tension. It'll snap shut.” He looks around and finds a thick piece of wood, holding it over the box. “It might be loud… so, prepare yourself.” 

Juniper looks at him with wide eyes and shuffles backwards. 

“Three… two… one…” Charlie drops the wood and the lid immediately snaps shut with a bang. The sound echoes slightly, causing a few people nearby to pause what they are doing and look over. A warm flush of embarrassment washes over Charlie, and he suddenly wants to hide. 

“That was so cool!” Juniper exclaims. 

Charlie grins at her. “Yeah.” Then he sees her eyebrows form a frown.

“How are we meant to do this in the arena, though?” she asks.

Charlie feels his stomach drop a little. “That’s… a very good question,” he replies slowly. “I guess we just have to hope they provide the right materials.” 

Juniper hums in response, then begins to gather up the tools Charlie used. Charlie sits back, leaning on his hands and decides to brave a glance around the room. Everyone has more or less gone back to their training, and he breathes out a relieved sigh. 

Just as he turns to look back at his trap, he notices Nicholas looking at him from the axe station. Charlie can’t really make out the other boy’s facial expression, but his body and head are turned in his direction, leaning against a pillar with an axe in hand. Charlie allows himself to look for a little longer than he has done before, but then, Charlie notices Nicholas’ body straightens, apparently aware of Charlie’s attention. 

Charlie continues to watch the way Nicholas pushes off the pillar, spinning the axe on its head before lifting it off the ground. Just as he’s about to walk away, one of the Careers yells Nicholas’ name.

“Oi! Nicholas!”

What happens next is almost too fast for Charlie to process. Nicholas’ normally calm, borderline-stoic demeanour snaps within half of a second and suddenly, he violently and effortlessly throws his axe to the side.

Charlie swallows thickly and licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, because during Nicholas’ outburst, his fixated stare never once wavered from Charlie.

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

For the entirety of yesterday, every time Nick took the opportunity to try and observe his opponents, his eyes would lock with a pair of blue ones that have been haunting him since he arrived at the Capitol. Every time their eyes met, Nick would instantly look away. But, unfortunately for him, Charles was seemingly everywhere.

That resulted in Nick only being able to study about half of the tributes before they were sent back to their rooms for the night. He was hoping that today would be different, that he’d actually be able to focus properly. However, he hasn’t even been here for an hour and he’s already spotted Charlie once. 

As the day progresses, Nick decides to start finding different areas where he can survey other tributes from afar without being noticed. He leans against one of the pillars that’s near the axe station, absentmindedly twirling an axe on its head while brooding.

Might as well practice staying out of sight too, he thinks to himself idly as he scans the training room, keeping note of the few areas he’s not as confident in. Especially considering how often Charles notices me. It’s like he’s going out of his way to find me or something.  

Outside of the arena, Nick wouldn’t give two shits about Charles staring at him. Hell, he might even be flattered by it, which is something he’ll have to unpack if he survives later. But inside the arena, Charles being able to spot him could be what seals Nick’s fate.

Careful, Nick. You can’t see him as a human, not now. Your time for making friends ended the day you entered the academy.

Nick’s train of thought is interrupted by a loud banging noise, and his head snaps up instantly, refocusing on his task at hand. It takes him less than two seconds to find the source — lo and behold, the cause behind the disturbance is none other than Charles fucking Spring himself. Charles is sheepishly looking around the room, his posture exuding embarrassment. 

Maybe he’s less of a threat than I thought. What idiot brings that kind of attention to themselves before the Games even begin?

No! He scolds himself. This could easily be a trick; making himself look weak and innocent so that he can get the first strike. Don’t downplay him because of a mistake. 

Just as Nick’s about to turn his attention to something else, Charles’ eyes land on him. For a moment, Charles almost seems like he’s in a daze of some sort as he stares at Nick, apparently unphased about Nick’s awareness of said attention. A surge of anger courses through his veins but it’s not aimed at Charles, it’s aimed at himself. Nick can actively feel himself begin to slightly care about the curly-haired boy, even when he knows that he can’t afford to. 

“Oi! Nicholas!” a voice shouts from the left, and that’s all it takes to push Nick over the edge. His body moves before his mind can catch up, his grip on the axe tightening as his arm jerks sharply to the right. A loud thud echoes through the air, followed by several soft gasps. In the corner of his eye, Nick notices that his axe has struck dead centre on the target. 

All the while, his eyes had never left Charles’.

Whatever spell the blue-eyed boy had been under is now long gone as he scrambles to his feet. That’s when Nick notices for the first time that Juniper is behind him. While Charles’ face is, overall, void of emotion, the young girl’s face is easy to read. Her eyes are wide with fear and her hand is trembling slightly. Charles pushes Juniper behind him and when Nick meets his gaze again, he’s surprised to see a sense of determination, mixed with… a challenge? Almost as if he’s saying, ‘I dare you to hurt her’. 

Nick’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears, loud and unforgiving, as he fights off the feeling of guilt that begins to form in his stomach. His intention wasn’t to scare the girl, or Charles for that matter, and yet that’s exactly why he’s here, isn’t it? He needs to be intimidating everyone around him because if he doesn’t, then the only defence he’ll have is being a ‘Career’. While the title makes him seem like a threat outside of the arena, it’ll only get him so far once he’s in there.

The feeling of a hand clapping around his shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts, causing his head to snap to the right immediately. He’s met with a pair of blue eyes, full of arrogance, and a cocky grin on the other tribute’s face. Nick recognises him as Harry Greene, the male tribute from District 1.

“Nice shot, mate,” Harry grins, nodding towards the circular target. “We could use someone like you as an ally.”

“We?” Nick asks, his brows pinching together. Harry nods, gesturing behind him. Nick looks past Harry and sees a group of other tributes talking while grabbing different weapons. 

“Yeah, you know, the Careers?” Harry replies, before leaning closer to whisper, “A.K.A, the real tributes.”

Nick has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning back and walking to the target to grab the axe he had just thrown. He hoped that would be a clear enough signal to make Harry piss off. However, Nick can hear the clunking noise of the other’s combat boots following him. With one swift pull, Nick’s axe is once again hanging at his side.

“Come on,” Harry urges, elbowing Nick in the arm as if they’d known each other for years, not five minutes. “Surely you can see by now that teaming up with anyone else would be pointless. Most of them are going to die the moment they step off the podium anyway.”

“Not interested,” Nick responds dryly, making his way back to the throwing line. Once again, Harry’s annoyingly loud footsteps follow him. 

“Really? Because your teammate was the first to approach us,” Harry says, sounding rather proud. “She told us you’d both be joining.”

Nick’s jaw clenches and, as he throws the axe again, he lets himself picture Cassia in place of the target. It lands in the centre of the target, the handle wobbling from the force of the impact. He looks over at Harry, taking the opportunity to subtly size him up. They’re almost the same height, though Nick’s got about an inch on him. They have similar builds, but Nick’s shoulders are broader and Harry’s thighs are more defined.

Probably a runner then, Nick thinks idly. 

“So…” Harry continues, his voice shifting lower. He pauses, pulling a knife from a thigh holster that Nick hadn’t noticed earlier. He traces the edge of the blade with his finger, twirling it in his hand strategically. “What’s it gonna be then?” he raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet Nick’s once more. There’s a dangerous glint in them, something cold and ruthless. The smile that crosses his lips makes Nick’s stomach churn. 

Harry points the knife towards himself before saying, “Hunters?” He follows the remark by shifting the tip of the knife towards Nick’s clavicle. “Or prey?”

A surge of anger courses through Nick’s veins and, without hesitation, Nick steps forwards. He feels the coolness of the metal against the heat of his skin and in a twisted way, it’s a grounding force that gives him the courage he needs. 

“Is that a threat?” Nick whispers, his words sharp with every syllable. 

“No,” Harry grins wickedly, stepping even closer. The tip of the knife presses hard against Nick’s skin, threatening to tear it open. “It’s a guarantee.” 

Nick’s fist clenches, his nostrils flaring, and he’s about two seconds away from killing Harry, right then and there, when a Peacekeeper slowly walks by them. Both boys take a minor step back, and Harry slides his knife back into his holster. 

“If you want to join the others, be my guest. However, you might want to take a few of the weaker ones out before I get a chance to,” Harry nods towards Charles and Juniper’s direction, “I’m sure your methods of killing are a lot more… merciful than mine.”

Fuck this guy… But also fuck, he’s right, Nick scowls internally as he glances back at the other tributes scattered across the centre. If Nick wants any chance of actually winning this, he needs to be careful about who he picks. 

So far, his choices are between a group of people who were raised to kill and a group of people who were barely surviving before they even got here. 

But they survived, a soft voice whispers in the back of his mind. That’s got to count for something, right? 

It eerily sounds like his mum.

“Well,” Nick says curtly, looking back at Harry. “I think the choice is quite clear.”

Chapter Text

“Nicholas Nelson,” an automated voice rings out, followed by the quiet murmurs of tributes. Nick feels his back straighten, his pulse quickening.

Alright. Showtime, Nelson.

Nick comes to a stand, keeping his face as stoic as he did on the day of the reaping. He can feel the heat of everyone’s gaze as he walks up to the metal sliding door that leads to the ranking room. The moment he crosses the threshold though, his entire body goes cold. He isn’t sure if it’s because of the room’s coolness or the anxiety coursing through him. As the door closes behind him, he’s thrown into complete darkness.

And then suddenly, there’s light. Too much light. It’s almost like a flash-bang with how disorienting it is, and Nick instinctively takes a step back, already on the defensive and prepared to fight any threat that might come his way. He has to blink a few times, his eyes adjusting to the room in front of him. The ceiling is nothing but a luminescent lightbulb that covers every tile, not leaving a single dark crevice to be seen. The room is spacious and barren, save for the spectator box in the upper right corner of the room and a console to Nick’s right. 

There are about twelve people in the spectators' box, all of them dressed like royalty in suave suits and lace gowns. They almost look comical to Nick: one woman has a dress collar that’s taller than her head, and a gentleman in the far back corner has his hair styled in the shape of the letter ‘W’. While Nick doesn’t recognise most of these people, there is one gentleman whose face he’s seen far too much of in the last three years. 

The Head Gamemaker, Isaac Henderson, adorned in a simplistic white suit with golden decals around the collar and cuff of his jacket.

Nick’s words from a couple of years ago echo in his mind: ‘Surrounded by a bunch of clowns, Isaac Henderson is the ringmaster.’ The memory is quickly followed by the sound of Sahar’s laughter, her voice teasing him to be quiet, even though she couldn’t help but grin.

The flashback seems to put Nick’s body into action, and he walks over to the middle of the room so he can introduce himself. As he gets closer to the centre, he notices thin lines that form different shaped squares scattered across the floor. 

Secret doors, maybe? Nick’s mind suggests as he analyses them. The training centre back in District 2 has a similar setup – display tables that retract into the floor whenever they aren’t being used so it creates more room to spar. He can feel the spectator’s stare before he even looks up, the pressure of their gaze almost crushing him on the spot. However, he stands tall and locks eyes with Isaac. 

“Nicholas Nelson, District Two,” Nick states neutrally, though his eyes are attempting to shoot daggers at the Head Gamemaker. 

Isaac’s response is nothing but a small nod as he sits down in an oversized chair. He crosses his legs, leaning forward with a spark of interest in his eyes.

Of course you would be interested, you sadistic bastard, Nick’s brain screams. However, he keeps a neutral façade as he walks back to the console. 

He places his hand on the centre of the screen and a flash of green appears as his hand is scanned. It beeps twice and suddenly, over two dozen options appear on the screen. Nick’s eyes quickly scan it before tapping the weapons tab. Little boxes with pictures appear in them, and he taps the axe box along with the knife box. There’s a mechanical whirring noise that comes from the floors in front of him, and Nick glances up to see them open. Three tables rise up, each one holding a variety of axes and knives.

Yep. Secret doors, he thinks before looking back at the control panel. He minimises the weapons tab, selecting ‘Holograms’ next. This time, instead of pictures, numbers in boxes appear. The range is anywhere from one to twelve. He hesitates for a moment, trying to decide how he wants to play this. 

He could easily take down twelve holograms, he’d done up to twenty at a time in training. While most people would use that to their advantage in the games, Nick doesn’t want to fully showcase his skills until he’s inside the arena. If he tries to show off now, he’ll be risking the chance of getting himself ranked too high. He’s seen enough games to know what a high ranking will bring, and he’s already got the ‘Career’ title pinned to his back – he doesn’t need another reason to be a target.

He settles on ten holograms, tapping ‘confirm’ before taking a deep, grounding breath. He rolls his shoulders, letting all of his thoughts slip away as he puts himself into the soldier mindset that’s been a part of his brain for far too long. In any other setting, he’d find it rather disturbing how easily he could turn his humanity off. However, here, it’s his most valuable skill.

Nick walks over to the table and gets to work, quickly analysing the weapons laid out before him. On the knives table, there are two thigh holsters and a variety of knives, ranging from hunting to tactical. Without blinking an eye, Nick grabs the thigh holster and secures it around his right thigh, simultaneously studying the axe table while grabbing the second thigh holster. As he secures that one too, he decides to go for two combat knives, grabbing a small tactical knife and tucking it inside his boot before grabbing a tomahawk from the axe table. 

After making his selections, the tables buzz to life, lowering back down through the floor. He moves to the centre of the room just as the lights dim. All of Nick’s senses are immediately heightened and it only takes a couple of seconds for the first hologram to appear. 

Its orange form runs towards him at lightning speed, holding a digital axe and aiming for a swing. Without hesitation, Nick dodges the hologram’s strike with ease as he bends back, keeping his feet planted firmly. While leaning backwards, he uses the tomahawk in his hand and strategically cuts through the hologram’s middle, turning it into pixels. 

This is too easy, Nick thinks, unable to hide the smirk that forms on his face. 

As he straightens, another hologram materialises, this one armed with a bow and arrow aimed straight at him. The arrow whizzes through the air, and in a fluid motion, he dives into a somersault, hurling his tomahawk mid-roll. The weapon spins through the air, striking with precision and decapitating the hologram in an instant, reducing it to a flurry of pixels. A few gasps echoed from behind him, followed by idle chatter, and Nick isn’t sure whether to feel disgust or pride.

Now’s the time to focus, not feel, Nick!

As if sensing his cautious thoughts, the program responds with a flash of orange light reflecting off of the wall. Nick spins just in time to avoid a dagger aimed at him by a hologram. Instinctively, his hand darts to the combat knife strapped to his right thigh. The hologram strikes again, but Nick dodges gracefully, his movements strategic and controlled.

Gripping the knife with precision, he lashes out, slicing through the hologram’s forearm before delivering a quick cut to its bicep. The arm detaches, but the figure’s bent over stance isn’t enough to satisfy him. Wasting no time, he plunges the knife into its thigh and twists sharply, sending the figure crashing to the ground before it disintegrates into a cloud of dust.

As he begins to take down the holograms one by one, Nick’s body slips into a rhythm that no longer relies on conscious thought or strategy, but instead moves purely on instinct . His actions flow seamlessly, his muscles rippling with precision as he manoeuvres, every strike feeling more natural than the last. Each swift motion, each cut and parry brings an odd sense of comfort; the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body and the sharp focus of his mind feels like home . 

Nick manages to keep a mental count of how many holograms are left, beads of sweat dripping down his face as the final one appears. The hologram doesn’t even get a chance to move as Nick runs towards it, huffing quietly as he calculates the hologram’s stance. It looks like the hologram has a weapon along its back, and Nick immediately assumes that the figure is going to reach for its weapon. As predicted, the hologram reaches back to grab its weapon, and Nick takes the opportunity to slash the hologram's torso. It falls to the floor and without hesitation, Nick swings his arm around dramatically, landing on his knee as he stabs the knife into the hologram’s chest.

Right where the human heart would be. 

Nick’s panting heavily as the lights come on and, when he takes the chance to look up, he notices that each spectator is looking at him with awe, as if he were some show dog that had exceeded their expectations. They murmur amongst themselves animatedly, nodding and pointing. All the while, Isaac is staring directly at Nick. His gaze is almost unnerving, not a single thought behind his eyes and yet too many thoughts all at once. 

Nick comes to a stand and takes off the thigh holsters, not even bothering with putting them back in their proper places. Instead of acknowledging any of the people in the box, he turns on his heel and walks towards the exit, his entire body still thrumming with adrenaline.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

Time drags as Charlie sits on the hard metal bench in the waiting room, watching the other tributes come and go. As expected, the Careers look as smug and unbothered as ever. Somehow, Charlie finds it in himself to stare the first three tributes down. None of them take any notice of him, but when Nicholas from District 2 walks out, chest slightly heaving, their eyes meet immediately. Charlie has the urge to look away, but forces himself to keep his eyes locked with Nicholas’ dark brown ones. They’re not filled with hatred or anger like the others’. Instead, Charlie recognises tiredness and a hint of irritation. 

A shiver runs down Charlie’s spine as Nicholas walks out of sight, finally cutting off the intense eye contact they held. The next name is called, and Charlie tries to refocus his mind. 

No distractions. Stay focused. Deep breaths. 

Before he knows it, Juniper’s name is called. Charlie sees Juniper flinch out the corner of his eye, so he turns to face her and gives her a small smile. “You can do this,” he says softly. 

She looks up at him with watery eyes and nods, before slowly making her way to the door. Charlie watches as she takes a deep breath and steps through the threshold. 

Fifteen agonising minutes later, the door slides open and a dejected Juniper walks out. She gives Charlie a sad smile and shrugs her shoulders before walking through the exit. 

“Charles Spring,” a robotic voice calls out suddenly. 

Charlie inhales deeply, steadying himself before pushing off the metal bench.

Shoot straight, Spring. That’s all you have to do.

The door moves to the side with a mechanical woosh and he steps through. Once the door closes behind him, darkness envelopes him before a series of bright lights turn on. He blinks a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust, then sees a console similar to those in the training room to his right. His steps echo as he walks to the console. A distant burst of laughter comes from above. He looks up to see the Gamemakers behind a window, laughing and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, surrounded by a table filled with a copious amount of food. 

“Charles Spring. District Twelve,” Charlie says with a strong voice. 

The buzz of the chatter stops immediately, and Charlie suddenly feels every pair of eyes looking down on him. 

He takes another deep breath and places his hand on the screen of the console. Once the system registers him, he selects the hardest setting and selects his chosen skill – archery, of course. Once his choices are confirmed, the console disappears into the ground as a bow, and a quiver full of metal arrows appear in the middle of the room. He reaches the bow and arrows in a few steps. The metal is cool to the touch as he wraps his fingers around the handle. He slides the quiver on easily, adjusting the position so that he feels balanced. As the podium descends and the lights dim, Charlie readies an arrow, all senses on high alert. 

The first burst of orange light comes suddenly from his right but he is quick to shoot, and it bursts into pixels as rapidly as it appeared. More orange holograms appear in quick succession and Charlie destroys them, his arrow piercing right through the heart each time, sometimes even using the tip of the bow to stab the attackers if they’re in close range. Charlie moves around the room with ease, using the pillars surrounding him to hide and dodge attacks from the holographic weapons. He realises that the arrows are diminishing, indicating that he doesn't have long left to showcase his skills. He looks around the pillar and sees the orange strobes double, forming together to create six holograms. Charlie reaches behind him, pulling out the final three arrows and secures them in the bow. He watches carefully, waiting for the proper moment to strike. 

A few seconds later, he throws himself on the ground and rolls away from the pillar, coming to land on his right knee with his left leg out to balance his body. He positions the bow horizontally and releases the arrows. 

They pierce through the centre of the first three figures, and miraculously, each arrow lines up perfectly with the remaining three holograms. Despite the figures moving chaotically, they still shatter into pixels the moment the arrow touches them. 

Charlie’s breaths are heavy, and he can feel his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. The lights come up, as does the podium for the bow and quiver. Charlie stands up and places his weapon on the stand, looking at the spectator's box as he does so. The Head Gamemaker is staring at Charlie, eyebrows furrowed as he sips his drink. 

And then he gives Charlie a nod. It’s an incredibly minuscule movement, but Charlie’s eye for detail catches it. 

What the fuck could that mean?

 <>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Three excruciatingly long days later, Nick and Cassia are pulled from their rooms and brought to the lounge area. Nick makes a point to sit on the sofa that's opposite of Cassia, still keeping their interactions to a bare minimum. It’s already hard enough to play pretend partners with her in the training centre, he can’t continue to do it in their living quarters as well. The television screen has the symbol of Panem spinning slowly on it, a small countdown underneath with three minutes remaining until the ranking scores are revealed. Nick shuffles uncomfortably, every inch of his body twitching with anxiety and stress – whether it’s because he’ll be inside the arena in 48 hours or because he’s about to find out his ranking score, he’s not sure. 

A hand pats his shoulder and he has to fight the urge to grab the wrist of whoever is touching him. He glances up to see his designer, Nathan Ajayi, who’s already smiling. However, Nick notices it’s not a smile of joy or excitement. It’s more reserved, as if the notion is out of professional courtesy. His other hand is extending a thin glass of champagne to Nick. 

Nick takes it, giving a curt nod, but doesn’t move to take a sip. Alcohol won’t do anything to help loosen the knots currently bubbling in his stomach.

Just as Nathan sits down next to him, Tara walks into the room, a reserved smile on her face as she sits down next to Cassia. Unlike Nathan’s expression, Tara’s holds a hint of stress in it. Her jaw flexes every few seconds, as if her body is fighting off a panic attack, and he wonders if a small part of her is currently reliving her ranking ceremony from when she was a tribute. 

Even after you win the Games, there’s really no escape, is there?

Her box braids are pinned up into a massive bun, golden jewels dangling from the top. Her golden eyes glimmer with pride as she crosses her satin-clad legs, holding up a glass of champagne.

“Good luck to you both,” she nods, sipping from her glass. 

Coming from anyone else in this godforsaken city, Nick would have immediately been pissed off. However, coming from Tara, he actually offers a ghost of a smile back. He’s come to learn over the last three days that she’s not much different to him. Their mentor sessions have been a welcomed reminder that she’s from District 2 as well, and this was once her hell too. Knowing that he has her on the outside is almost a comforting thought.

Almost.

Panem’s anthem blares across the speakers, followed by Aled Flickerman’s far too colourful face. He’s wearing a shimmering orange suit that twinkles with every movement he makes, his normally blonde hair now a pastel pink and his eyes lined with yellow eyeliner. The combination of colours reminds Nick of a fancy pastry from back home as he idly listens to Aled talk about this year’s group of tributes and how their rankings are scored. When the rankings start to be announced, Nick focuses just in time to hear Aled announce Harry’s rank.

“From District One, we have Harry with a score of… nine!”

Nick can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes him. I bet the pompous prick feels good about that one. I can picture his smug face now. He fidgets with the stem of his champagne glass as Aled continues down the list. 

“Also from District One, is Pearl with a score of… nine!”

“Oh, we’re next!” Cassia chirps from across the way, clapping her hands together as if it’s suddenly Christmas. Nick doesn’t even attempt to refrain from silently mocking her joy, his lips curling in disgust as he mimics her clap. Against his better judgement, he decides to take a sip of the champagne in his hand after all. There is not a single universe where Nick would be able to deal with Cassia acting like this sober. 

“From District Two, we have Nick, with a score of…” Aled opens the card in his hand just as Nick’s stomach does a triple flip. An ounce of agitation runs through him; he's annoyed with himself for caring so much about a stupid score when he didn’t even fully showcase his talents. 

I don’t need a number to tell me I’m good, Nick reminds himself. 

And yet, here he is, damn near on the edge of his seat as he studies the photo of himself on the television screen. It looks like a normal picture at face value, but the longer Nick stares at the boy in the corner of the screen, the more it feels like he’s staring at a stranger. The freckles that usually adorn Nick’s nose are nowhere to be seen now, his skin in the photo airbrushed and pristine to look as smooth as stone. His lips look plumper too, his cheekbones sharpened and defined. It doesn’t take long before Nick decides that it doesn’t look like him at all.

Aled’s pink eyebrows perk up as the man looks at the camera, catching Nick’s attention. For a moment, it feels as if he’s looking directly at Nick.

“Ten!” Aled cries, a hint of awe in his tone. Nick exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

For the first time since arriving at the Capitol, Nick allows a genuine smile to grace his lips. He feels Nathan’s hand pat his shoulder, Nick turning to look at both him and Tara. 

“Good job!” Tara beams, reaching across the way to tap his knee. 

“Well done,” Nathan says simultaneously.

“We can do quite a lot with a ten!” Tara adds with a whisper before Aled continues to speak. 

“From District Two, Cassia, with a score of… eight!”

Cassia gasps loudly and the other three look over to see her face turning as red as her nail polish. “Eight?! A fucking eight?” she squeaks. Nick’s smile only grows wider, and he tries to hide it by taking another sip of his champagne. However, he’s apparently not very successful. 

“What’s so fucking funny, Nelson?!” she snaps, her jaw clenching. Nick holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“Hey, we can do a lot with an eight too,” Tara interjects. Nick bites back a laugh as Cassia scoffs in annoyance while leaning back. 

“It’s not my fault that they didn’t have what I needed to show my proper skills,” Cassia mutters petulantly. 

Sounds like a skill issue, Nick thinks idly, repositioning himself on the plump sofa while Tara continues to try and console Cassia about her score. He focuses back on the television, his head beginning to feel as fuzzy as the bubbles in his champagne. He’s never had a sip of alcohol in his life before today and, as he finishes his glass, he can’t help but wonder why he didn’t indulge sooner. Sure, he’d stolen bottles of his mum’s wine here and there, but he’d never actually drunk it – the wine was always a treat for Sahar, something to soothe her frayed nerves after every reaping day. That train of thought quickly leads him back to his home. He knows for a fact his mum’s watching the ranking right now and so is Sahar. Maybe even Sami. 

Have they been worried this entire time? And here I am drinking alcohol and grinning like a twat. What’s wrong with me? he thinks, his smile fading. He looks at the empty glass in his hand, disgust coursing through him as he quickly sets it down. Did I make them proud with my score? God, I hope so.

“And now for the final district,” Aled’s voice interrupts Nick’s spiral, his eyes immediately snapping back to the television. 

His heart begins to beat quicker and this time, he really does sit on the edge of his seat. He can’t quite tell why he’s so invested in hearing Charles’ score. Maybe it’s because of the attention Charles managed to bring upon himself since the reaping. Or maybe it’s because of the look that was in Charles’ eyes when he stared Nick down in the training centre, a mixture of determination and defence as he stood in front of his fellow tribute from 12. Nick isn’t sure what it is about Charles that’s so captivating, but he doesn’t have the time to dissect it. He may never get the time to anyway, so why dwell on something that’s unimportant?

“And last but not least, from District Twelve, we have Charlie with a score of… eleven!”

Nick’s jaw falls slack as he feels his eyes go wide. In any other setting, Nick thinks he actually would have cheered. However, all he can do is sit there, frozen in place, as he stares at Charles' picture. 

This is bad. The thought floods his brain like water from a broken dam. It’s bad because that immediately makes Charles a top priority threat. What’s worse is that Nick is actually happy for Charles – thrilled even. Which means that Nick is seeing him as a human, maybe even a possible ally, instead of his enemy. 

And that could very well be Nick’s cause of death.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

Eleven.

Eleven?!

“Oh my goodness!” Rebecca exclaims. “Charlie!” 

She engulfs him in a tight embrace, but he’s too shocked to stand up or hug her back. 

“That’s incredible, Charlie!” Elle echoes Rebecca’s excitement from her seat on the sofa.

“Fucking knew you had it in you!” Darcy shouts and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “That six in one was brilliant!” 

“I-I don’t- What?!” Charlie stutters. 

“This is going to massively improve your chances of getting sponsors! Take that, Careers,” Darcy continues. She jumps up and heads for the drinks table, pouring herself a generous helping of whisky.

“Well done, Charlie,” a small voice comes from beside him. Juniper is smiling up at him, pride glistening in her eyes. 

“Thank you.” Charlie smiles back. 

“And now, also from District Twelve, Juniper Cannon…” Aled Flickerman continues. The entire room falls silent once again in anticipation. “...with a score of seven!” 

Soft gasps and exclaims of slight surprise come from everyone apart from Juniper, who releases a sigh of relief. 

“Well done, Juniper! That’s really good,” Elle says as she reaches over to squeeze Juniper’s knee. 

Juniper shrugs. “Thanks, but it’s not as good as Charlie’s,” she responds with a blush.

“Hey, none of that,” Charlie gently scolds. “You did really well! You’re only thirteen, remember? And you got a higher rank than some of the Careers! That’s something special!”

“I guess that’s true.” Juniper smiles up at him. 

“Let’s celebrate with some champagne!” Elle signals to an Avox, who immediately disappears and returns a few minutes later with one of the biggest bottles Charlie has ever seen on a trolley with glasses - he didn’t know bottles that big even existed.

Ironically, neither he or Juniper are able to have any, which sort of fits in with the bittersweetness of the Capitol attitude and lifestyle. The realisation of his reality suddenly comes crashing down, sending a chill down his spine; he no longer feels excited about his high rank. The people around him are celebrating, as if he’s just achieved a good result at school rather than something that could change his fate in the Games.

The ‘celebrations’ last throughout the evening, with a large feast for dinner and the adults drinking even more. Juniper stays next to Charlie the entire time, becoming more visibly drained as the night goes on. After seeing her yawn twice in a row, Charlie suggests that she goes to bed, making sure to make it obvious that he also wants to leave so she doesn’t feel bad. 

She nods gratefully, and so Charlie announces to their team that they’re going to bed, using the pretence that they want a good night's sleep before their interviews tomorrow. Everyone waves and calls out their farewells before promptly going back to their hilarity. 

Once Charlie says goodnight to Juniper and the door of his room closes behind him, he’s encased in almost deafening silence for the first time since last night. Within seconds, it’s somehow all too much, so he distracts himself by getting ready for bed and losing himself in the routine.

As he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, he finally lets his mind go through the events of the past few days: how he displayed some of his best shooting in front of the Gamemakers, the fact that they noticed and correctly rewarded him for it despite being from District 12 and that somehow, he now has the highest ranking out of everyone. He’s apparently better than the Careers, who have been training for the Games since they could crawl. It’s something that Charlie never saw coming, an option that was never on the table for him until today.

Does he allow himself to hope? Does he dare to have some self-belief that maybe he has a chance to survive this thing?

It’s a far-fetched dream for anyone in the lower districts, but maybe now, it’s less far-fetched for Charlie.

Chapter Text

“Go on and give us a spin,” Nathan says, twirling his finger in the air. Nick exhales deeply, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he does what he’s told. 

Nathan has dressed him up in a glamorous yet refined three piece suit that, as always, fits like a glove. It’s a deep navy blue and at first glance, it looks rather simple; there’s a small sparkling chain that sits just above his navel, holding the lapels of his jacket closed while also giving a tasteful peek at the waistcoat below. However, on closer inspection, Nick can see a shiny, almost luminescent floral print along his whole suit, one that shimmers under the light with every movement. His hair is stylishly dishevelled, starkly contrasting his otherwise put-together look. Nathan’s makeup artist had added a dark blue eyeshadow along his lash line and cheekbones, smoking it outwards to give his features a sharp and more distinctive look.

“Somehow, this feels crueler than throwing me in an arena,” Nick mutters, tucking his hands in his pockets, as he stares at his reflection. He can hardly recognise himself, though that began long before Nathan started dressing him up like a doll. “I mean what’s the point of these interviews anyway?”

Before Nathan can speak, Imogen does it for him, her reflection appearing in the mirror behind Nick’s shoulder as she smooths down his collar. “Because, Nicholas, the people need to like you! That’s how you become a fan favourite, darling.” She reaches around his neck and straightens his tie for him. 

Nick has to physically restrain himself from shoving her onto the floor. “Fan favourite? Are you kidding me right now? I’m about to fight for my life, and you want me to worry about who’s going to buy merchandise with my name on it?” 

“Nick,” Tara interrupts, her voice laced with caution.

“What?” Nick hisses through his clenched teeth. Imogen takes a step back and moves to his side. “They don’t care about any of us. They just care about the revenue our death scenes will bring in.”

“Attitude, Nicholas,” Imogen scolds, swatting his shoulder with her handheld fan. He glares at her but Tara pulls him away before he can say something stupid. 

“Nick, you need people to like you because if they like you then they’ll be more likely to sponsor you,” Tara murmurs firmly. “You and I both know how vital that is once you’re inside the arena.”

“I know,” Nick says harshly, “You don’t need to remind me like I’m some child–”

“Then quit acting like one,” Tara says, her voice more stern this time. “I know this is a shitty situation, but there is nothing – and I mean nothing – that can be done about it. So hang in there for one more night and then–”

“And then what, Tara?” Nick snaps, absolutely seething. “And then go in and die tomorrow? Yeah, great pep talk. Thanks, mentor.” 

Tara’s golden eyes narrow in on him and her nose scrunches up. “You’re welcome, David,” she replies curtly before walking past him.

The words sting, but they’re a necessary reminder that immediately puts Nick in his place. He inhales deeply before looking back at Imogen and Nathan, who are waiting.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, though it’s more to Nathan than Imogen. 

“You should be,” Imogen frowns. “Nathan has put all of his effort and energy into making you look desirable, and you’re being rude–”

“Imogen,” Nathan says softly, holding his hand up. “Do you mind giving us a moment? You can go check on Tara and Cassia, and we’ll join you ladies in a few minutes.”

Imogen looks back and forth between them, fidgeting with her fan before reluctantly nodding. “Alright, but not a minute more than necessary! We leave in ten minutes,” she warns before turning on her heel, her shoes clacking against the marble flooring as she leaves. Nathan and Nick both share a look before he guides Nick back towards the mirror. 

“I know both Imogen and Tara have gotten on your nerves,” Nathan says as he places a gentle hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Hell, I probably have too. I just want you to know that we’re trying to help you succeed. We see great potential in you, even though you don’t see it in yourself.”

“I know what I’m capable of,” Nick starts to say, but Nathan holds a finger up. 

“What you’re capable of is only part of your potential, Nick.” As he continues to speak, he leans in closer, almost like he’s scared he might be overheard with what he says next. “There’s a spark in you, a spark that could change everything. But for the time being, you need to remain level-headed and play it smart. You understand?”

Nick’s body stiffens, his heart rate going haywire as they stare at each other in the mirror. Nathan’s words sound foreign, yet all too familiar, bordering along the line of treason. Nick wants to ask over a million questions that flood his brain instantly, but all he can do is nod.

“I understand,” he replies. 

“Good,” Nathan responds a little louder, his tone returning to normal as he pats Nick’s shoulder. “That means you need to be likeable so you can get sponsors. Play it right tonight, be the charming younger Nelson that Panem is expecting to see. And when tomorrow comes, you unleash that spark and obliterate everyone in its path.”

Their reflections share a look of mutual understanding and for a fleeting moment, Nick feels a little less alone here.

Too bad I’m facing certain death tomorrow.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

“Okay,” Elle breathes, smoothing the front of Charlie’s suit. “Final checks before we load you into the car.” 

Charlie looks at his reflection in the mirror and sighs heavily. He barely recognises himself as he casts his eyes over the outfit Elle has designed for him: a bright red shirt buttoned up to the top, with a matching red suit, the blazer buttoning across his middle. The look is finished off with pointed, black ankle boots. The material is slightly itchy against his skin and he feels like he won’t be able to move properly when it’s time to walk. His blue eyes, already emphasised by the vibrant shade of his outfit, stood out even more thanks to the faintest of red matching makeup that lines his eyes. 

Elle’s face comes into view as she stands in front of him to delicately fix the position of a few stray curls. “There,” she whispers with a smile. “Perfect.” 

Charlie lets out another sharp sigh through his nose, and Elle catches it, looking him directly in the eyes. “Everything okay?” she asks clearly concerned. 

Charlie looks away. “You said ‘perfect’. There’s nothing perfect about any of this,” he says bluntly. 

Elle’s features soften and a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Charlie, listen to me when I say this.” Her other hand takes Charlie’s in her own, squeezing gently. “I have dressed many other tributes, and none of them had the same amount of determination that I see in you. You’re probably not even aware of it, but I see that fire in everything you do. You’ve helped Juniper so much so that she has a better chance in the arena. You volunteered for your brother. You got an eleven! You’re in this, and you are going to be brilliant. I know it.”

Charlie finally looks back at her to see Elle’s eyes glisten with pride and unshed tears. Charlie’s chest tightens, and he can’t help but lean forward to pull her into an embrace. “Thank you,” he whispers.

The moment is interrupted by Darcy barging into the room, looking a bit frazzled despite her very put together suit. “The car is leaving soon. Hurry up, will you?” she bursts out before rushing out the door as quickly as she came in.

Elle lets out a soft laugh and lets go of Charlie. The pair silently nod at each other, and Charlie steps off the fitting platform, following Elle out of the room. 

Juniper is already waiting at the car, twisting her fingers nervously as she waits. Charlie takes in her appearance. Juniper is wearing a dress with a sweetheart neckline and thick straps, the lace overlay decorated with dark green vines and stems that travel upwards and are connected to various flowers, adding hints of orange, red, pink and purple. She has white flat shoes on, and a floral headband to tie the look together. It’s a beautiful outfit that just showcases who Juniper is. Elle did a wonderful job.

When she notices Charlie, her face lights up a little and she gives him a little wave. The Peacekeepers open the doors to the car just as Charlie arrives and they’re both ushered inside quickly. The car speeds off before Charlie can properly sit in his seat. 

Juniper immediately reaches out for Charlie’s hand, causing him to look over at the young girl, recognising the amount of anxiety written across her face. 1

“It’ll be okay, June,” Charlie comforts softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m right here.”

“What if they don’t like me?” she says quietly, almost a whisper. “What if I don’t get any sponsors?”

“Hey, none of that,” Charlie admonishes gently. “They are going to adore you. You look beautiful. You’re kind and compassionate. You just have to stay true to who you are and answer honestly, that’s all.” Charlie is surprised at himself, as he finds Rebecca’s words from earlier coming out of his mouth. He didn’t realise he’d retained any of it, but he’s glad he did because he can already see Juniper beginning to calm down. “If it helps, you can pretend you’re talking to me.”

Juniper nods and smiles, but keeps a hold of Charlie’s hand. They sit like that for the rest of the journey. Charlie looks out of his window every so often, feeling a little bit sick every time he sees elaborate buildings and outfits on the people of the Capitol watching the car go by. 

Stay true to who you are. You can do this.

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

“What do I even say?” Nick asks in a hushed tone, looking over his shoulder at Tara. He’s got exactly five minutes until he goes on stage, and the cosmetic artist accompanying Nathan is currently touching up his makeup.

“Just talk to him like you would anyone else,” Nathan suggests, straightening the tie that Nick has fidgeted with so much, it’s become loose. 

“I’m not really a people person,” Nick mumbles quietly, casting his gaze downwards. He hears Nathan chuckle softly.

“You don’t say,” the older man teases before he and the makeup artist take a step back to look at Nick as if he’s a canvas they’ve been working on for hours – which isn’t a total lie. “The best piece of advice I can give is for you to pretend that you’re talking to a friend. Maybe even picture Saha–”

“Don’t,” Nick interrupts, though his voice sounds more forlorn than threatening. “Please.”

Nathan nods his head. “Sorry. I think you get the idea, though. Just answer the questions and don’t forget to smile. Show Panem who Nicholas Nelson is and show them you’ve come to win while looking devilishly handsome at the same time,” he adds with a wink.

“You’re extremely attractive, Nick,” Nathan’s makeup artist agrees in a chirpy voice, “Far more attractive than your brother. Use that to your advantage. The prettier tributes tend to get more sponsors, especially when they rank highly.”

Nick’s nostrils flare minutely and he gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks.”

Nathan seems to notice the way Nick bristles, and he taps her shoulder gently. “Alright, Vi, he gets the point. Let’s go check in with Cassia.” He leads her off before stopping slightly behind Nick. “You’ve got this. Now go knock 'em dead.” 

The poorly-timed pun isn’t lost on Nick.

A woman dressed in a disgustingly bright shade of orange walks up, holding a clipboard close to her chest. “Nicholas, it’s time to get you on the stage.” 

His feet feel light underneath him as he follows her to a set of stairs, and as he walks up each one, his head feels lighter and lighter. She points towards a piece of tape on the ground and murmurs something in her earpiece as she walks off, leaving him alone with nothing but the sound of the crowd on the other side of the curtain blocking his view. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes, counting down the seconds.

‘Pretend you’re talking to a friend ’, Nathan’s words echo in his mind. 

The image of Sahar flashes across his mind, followed by Sami. He tries to imagine them, desperately attempting to tune the noise of the crowd out. He pictures them sitting in Sahar’s living room, sharing some tea and catching up on everything he’s been through within the past six days. Her eyes are warm and genuine, her smile dazzling as she awaits for him to share his story. 

However, for some unknown reason, her eyes turn from deep brown to a bright blue. Suddenly, it’s no longer Sahar that’s waiting for him to speak but instead Charlie. His smile is soft – similar to the one he had in the Training Centre whenever he was talking with Juniper – dimples appearing on either side of his face. In his imagination, Charlie gingerly pours a cup of tea and places it in front of Nick, crossing his legs and leaning in to listen attentively. 

Tell me more, Charlie encourages. I want to know more.

Nick’s eyes open, his heart in his throat because why the fuck is he thinking about talking with Charlie? As a friend? 

Fuck, Nick! You cannot afford to build friendships out here with the people you’re about to be forced into an arena with! No matter how friendly they may seem. Pull yourself together, he scolds himself. 

Just as he’s about to close his eyes and reset, Aled suddenly calls his name and the crowd erupts in cheers. Nick takes a deep breath, giving his shoulders a quick shake before refocusing on the image of Sahar. He reminds himself that both she and his mum will be watching, and he’s determined to smile for them – at least one more time. 

As the curtains pull back, Nick lets a smirk fall on his lips as he’s blinded by the light. He doesn’t let himself be phased by it though, instead walking over to where Aled’s standing. Aled holds his hand out and Nick shakes it firmly before letting the interviewer lead him over to the seating area. He takes a moment to look over Aled’s… bold interview attire. His hair, that was pastel pink yesterday, is now a vibrant shade of teal, matching the teal floral decal along his bronze coloured suit. His shoes and tie are a beige cream, matching Aled’s currently wiggling eyebrows.

“Welcome, it’s so lovely to finally get a chance to chat with you!” Aled grins widely, resting his ring covered hand on his knee as he crosses his legs. “You are quite the topic right now, Nicholas.”

“‘Nick’ is fine,” Nick smiles, letting himself relax into the chair with ease. He isn’t sure where this confidence is coming from, but he decides to go with the flow. “And thank you, it’s an amazing opportunity to be here to represent my district. I suppose some might even say it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” 

As he expects, both Aled and the crowd erupt into laughter. Aled even goes so far as to pat Nick’s knee. “Well then, we see which one of the Nelson brothers got the funny bone now, don’t we folks?” he asks, extending his arm to the audience. There’s another small round of cheers in response. “And how is David, by the way? I don’t think I’m alone when I say we all miss that boy!”

Nick’s smile falters slightly as Tara’s words rush back to his mind. 

‘People are going to tell you you remind them of him. They’re going to expect you to act like him, talk like him, and, when it comes down to it, kill like him.’

 Nick quickly recovers with an eager nod, repositioning himself in his seat. “Yeah, David’s doing really well! He was sad to miss out on being the mentor for this year’s Games, but he reassured me that I’m in good hands.”

“Of course, Miss Tara is an incredible mentor,” Aled turns to the audience once again, “Wouldn’t you agree?” There’s more applause and Nick has to try his best to refrain from an eye roll. “Did David give you any advice about the Games?”

Fuck no, he didn’t.

“You know, Aled, some things have to be kept in the family,” Nick chuckles. Aled smiles knowingly and shakes his finger at Nick.

“Oh you Nelson boys and your secrets,” he guffaws theatrically, the audience laughing along with him. “Needless to say, I think we’re all excited to see you in action, if your brother’s reputation is anything to go by. Although,” he holds up a finger, “you’ve definitely paved yourself a path with a ranking of ten! Not only is that the second highest rank in this year’s group of tributes, but you also received a higher score than your brother by two points!”

Nick laughs at that before shrugging. “We’ve always been a bit competitive, so I suppose that, naturally, the competition is going to follow me here.”

I thought this interview was supposed to be about me? If I hear one more fucking comment about David, I swear to god–

“Naturally,” Aled says with a grin, pausing just long enough for the audience to laugh again. It’s beginning to feel more like a laughter track than genuine laughter – but then again, the people of the Capitol have never felt real to Nick anyway. “I know that the rankings are very ‘hush hush’, but between you and me, can you give a little snippet as to how you got such a high ranking?”

"Well, I could, but that would reveal the tricks I have up my sleeve,” Nick smiles, “And us showmen need to save some things for the actual performance, don’t we?”

Aled nods in agreement before leaning forward, his face transforming into a somber look. “So, Nick, while it’s normal for the tributes of District Two to volunteer, what’s not normal is the sentimental feelings behind it. It was so refreshing to see you volunteer for that young boy, not out of competitiveness but out of passion. What was running through your mind when you volunteered? Were you thinking of that young boy? Or, mayhaps, the pretty girl that chased after him?” he wriggles his eyebrows before winking. 

The audience breaks out into a scatter of immature ‘oo’s, like a playground full of children. Nick's throat suddenly feels too tight, making it hard to breathe, as the memory of Sahar being grabbed by the Peacekeepers comes to mind – followed by the sting of him pushing Sami away as he had attempted to hug Nick. 

“Well,” Nick exhales, thoughtfully tapping his chin. “It’s hard to say, really. That feels like ages ago.” 

Not him… Not Sahar… I can’t bear the thought of watching either of them lose each other… All of these options rush to the front of Nick’s brain and he wants to say them because they’re true. 

Unfortunately, he’s not in a position where he can afford to be truthful in front of all of Panem. 

“Really, I think the first thing that ran through my brain was, ‘I should’ve worn better clothes to be on stage in front of Panem’.” Nick continues with a laugh. 

The crowd erupts into a roaring sea of laughter as he flashes them a dazzling smile. Spotting a couple of women in the front row fanning themselves, he ups the charm by throwing them a playful wink. Aled rolls his eyes playfully as he nudges Nick’s arm.

“Oh, you’re too modest! You looked absolutely dashing in your reaping uniform. That girl is lucky to have you.” Aled praises before looking at the crowd. “However, and I think everyone who can see you right now will agree, you look even more handsome tonight! Doesn’t he, ladies?” he shouts loudly, waving a hand towards Nick’s suit.

The crowd is full of whistles and cheers in response and Nick waves his hand dismissively. “Please, cheer for Nathan Ajayi, not me. I’m simply the canvas for his art.” As he speaks, a spotlight is cast onto the crowd and lands on Nathan, who waves and blows kisses before looking at Nick and pressing a hand to his heart. 

“Well, it always helps when the canvas is sturdily built,” Aled winks. A timer goes off somewhere, signalling the end of the interview and they both stand. “You looked amazing at your reaping, you look stunning now, and you will look absolutely majestic in the Games tomorrow! I wish you the best of luck, Nick Nelson, tribute from District Two!”

Nick turns to the crowd and holds up his hand with a megawatt smile plastered on his face. He nods in a couple of random directions before shaking Aled’s hand and walking off the stage. He’s met by the same woman who brought him to the curtain. He follows her back towards the waiting area. 

As they step through the door, his eyes catch Tara and Imogen at the end of the hallway. However, his attention quickly drifts as his gaze lands on Charlie, who’s sitting beside Juniper, holding her hand. For a moment, his entire surroundings fade as he takes the sight of the other in.

Charlie looks… really fucking good. He’s impossible to miss – his slender frame adorned in a vibrant shade of red, with pointed black shoes that match his raven curls. Nick feels his pulse quicken at the sight, his brows pinching together in confusion because why does the sight of Charlie dressed up like this make his hand tremble ever so slightly? 

Maybe it’s because I know what the other tributes think of him and for some unknown, god forsaken reason, I see him as an actual person which means I feel bad for him.

The day after Harry’s threat, Nick had reluctantly become allies with the other Careers. That led to him listening in on their conversations about which tributes needed to be taken out once the Games began. And every day, Charlie’s name was the first to come up.

At first, he thought it was because they saw Charlie as weak. However, now that the ranking scores have been released, he thinks it’s because they see him as a bigger threat than they let on.

Which is what you should be doing, Nick, he reprimands himself internally. Their senses are intact – what the fuck are yours doing?!

Nick doesn’t realise he’s staring at Charlie until Charlie clears his throat, staring directly back at him. Nick knows he should keep walking towards Tara and Imogen so they can go back to their living quarters, that way he can try to get as much rest as possible before tomorrow. However, he notices that there’s a water fountain right by where Charlie is seated, and his body moves before his brain can process what he’s doing. 

He holds up his finger for Tara before pointing towards the water fountain. Tara’s head tilts, her brows pinching together with confusion, but she nods all the same. She signals for the Peacekeepers sitting outside the waiting area to let Nick through, and he bows his head appreciatively. As he walks through, he can now feel both Charlie and Tara’s gaze on his back. 

Remain level-headed and play it smart, Nathan’s words replay in his brain as he approaches the fountain. 

He bends over, pressing the button along the water fountain’s side to take a long drink, subtly looking towards Charlie while doing so. At first, Charlie breaks his gaze away and focuses back on Juniper, so Nick decides to take a different approach. He notices there’s an empty chair beside the other and makes his way over, sitting down and pretending to tie his shoe. He surveys the room, seeing how many tributes are still waiting. There’s still quite a handful of them, but they’re all either chattering amongst themselves or watching the current interview that’s happening via the gigantic television screens. He waits for Aled to speak again before trying to get Charlie’s attention.

He sits upright and with a racing heart, taps Charlie, who instantly startles, and points towards his shoe. “Your shoelaces are undone,” Nick says, knowing damn well that Charlie’s shoes don't even have laces.

Please, for the love of god, be as smart as you seem, Nick silently urges as he bends back down to tie his other shoe.

He waits for just a moment, paying attention to his peripheral vision as he silently urges for Charlie to bend over too. After a few seconds pass, Nick begins to feel embarrassed because of course Charlie’s not going to talk to him! Why would he? What the fuck has Nick done to even earn that right? They don’t know each other and, to make it worse, they have to kill each other come tomorrow morning.

Stupid, Nick! You’re a fucking idiot!

Just as he’s about to pull away, he sees a flash of red appear in the corner of his eye and god damn him, he feels his chest bloom with a feeling he has no right to be experiencing.

Hope.

“So it was untied,” Charlie replies casually, fidgeting with the buckle as if to prove the point that no the fuck it wasn’t. “Who’d have guessed?”

“Run as far west as you can when it begins,” Nick rapidly whispers under his breath, “I’ll make sure to lead everyone east.”

He hears Charlie’s breath hitch but he doesn’t say anything else, already feeling some eyes beginning to linger their way. Instead, he stands up and walks off, rejoining Tara and Imogen. As they’re walking back to their car, Nick feels Tara’s scrutinising stare on him.

“Good drink?” Tara asks in a neutral tone, though her eyebrow twitches ever so slightly. Nick can hear the secret question of 'What did you say to him?’ hidden in her tone.

“Not up to my brother’s standards,” Nick responds, his voice laced with indifference as he stares out the car window. He hopes that she can hear the hidden answer within his own words.

Nothing my brother would say.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

As Charlie watches Nicholas – or Nick, as he’d corrected Aled during his interview – walk away, he slowly sits up, mind reeling and spinning a million miles per hour. Nick’s words repeat over and over in his head, quickly followed by the question of why? Why would Nick, a Career, come up to Charlie, who is practically a nobody, and proceed to give him unsolicited advice for tomorrow? Why would Nick, who he has barely spoken to, initiate a conversation, especially with so many eyes watching? 

It doesn’t make sense to Charlie. But something about the small interaction makes his heart flutter, and Charlie can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

As Charlie makes his way back to the line of tributes, he pays no attention to the following interviews. Every sound around him is muted in the background. Even Juniper fidgeting in front of him does nothing to pull him out of his confused trance. He automatically moves forward as the line gradually brings him closer towards the steps leading up to the stage. He feels as though he’s on the verge of an out of body experience and for some reason, he doesn’t feel anxious about that. 

Maybe disassociating will benefit me at this moment.

“... one final round of applause for everybody’s favourite flower, Juniper from District Twelve!” 

Charlie is startled by the loud cheers from the audience, as Juniper makes her way off stage. “Charlie! You were right! I did it!” she exclaims as she runs down the steps.

Charlie internally shakes himself back into the present and smiles in response. “Well done!” he replies and gives her a quick hug. 

He feels a hand on his arm and looks up to see the woman directing each tribute on stage urging him to come forward. “You’re up!” she chirps. 

“And finally, the one we’ve all been waiting for,” Aled begins. The small video monitor next to the steps leading up to the stage shows a teasing and charming smirk begin to appear on his face. The crowd laps it up and cheers once more. Charlie’s stomach twists a little. “Finally, we get to meet the ultimate underdog – with a ranking of an impressive eleven – from District Twelve… Charles Spring!” 

Charlie feels a light push on his back, and he has no choice but to step forward. He uses all his focus to make sure he doesn't trip up the steps, and before he knows it, he is face to face with Aled Flickerman. The bright stage lights almost burn his skin with how hot they are and he feels a little sick, but somehow, he manages to take Aled’s outstretched hand and return the smile. 

“Doesn’t he look amazing?!” Aled exclaims into the microphone, turning to face the crowd. Once again, the audience erupts into cheers and claps. “I might ask if your stylist can make me a suit just like that!” 

“I can try and get you two in touch after the show,” Charlie finds himself saying as he smiles coyly. 

“That would be wonderful!” Aled laughs. “Sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable.” 

Charlie does just that, although he still feels a bit alien in his own body. 

“Now, firstly, Charles, how are you doing?” Aled asks. 

Charlie takes a breath. “Charlie is fine.” He smiles tightly at Aled, who bows his head respectfully. 

“Charlie,” Aled corrects himself. “Do you feel ready for tomorrow?”

“Well, I’m confident in my skills and I trust my instincts, so I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Charlie states, surprised at how confident he sounds. 

“That’s good, I like your conviction!” Aled grins and nods approvingly. “Of course, with a score of an eleven – that had to have helped, hm?” 

“It was… definitely a shock,” Charlie chuckles nervously. “I’m sure I wasn’t the only person surprised by it.”

“You’ve become quite the talk of Panem.” Aled raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re the one to look out for in that arena. Would you agree?” 

“Oh, that’s… kind of you to say, Aled.” Charlie feels himself relax into this new character he’s unlocked and leans forward slightly. “To be honest, I just hope that I don’t trip over anything. My family would never let me live that down once I’m back home.” If I make it home, that is, he sulks internally. 

Aled barks out a laugh and the audience quickly follows suit. Charlie forces himself to smile a bit wider to play along. 

“Oh, he’s confident, this one!” Aled sings out to the crowd before turning back to face Charlie, this time with a more solemn expression. “Speaking of family, of course, I can’t help but bring up that incredibly emotional moment at your reaping.”

Everyone releases a simultaneous “aw”, whilst Charlie feels his throat begin to tighten at the memory. 

“I’m sure everyone would agree with me, that what you did for your little brother was so selfless and heartwarming,” Aled continues. “I’m sure he’s watching back in District Twelve with your family. How do you think they feel seeing you flourish so far?” 

“Well…” Charlie takes a breath before he continues. “It’s just us and our sister. Our parents died when Olly was younger, so we had to learn to support each other. I promised Tori before the reaping that I would do anything to protect him, and that’s what I did. And just before I left, I told Olly I would try to win for him.”

Surprisingly, Aled looks genuinely touched. “And try, you will.” He takes Charlie’s hand and gives it a pat before looking at the audience once more. Charlie notices some of them are dabbing their eyes with decorated handkerchiefs that match their clothing. “I’m sure I speak for everyone in this room when I say, we wish you the best of luck in the Games tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Charlie replies, his voice just above a whisper.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, your ultimate underdog from District Twelve, Charlie Spring!” 

Charlie takes the chance to wave at everyone one last time as he walks away from Aled, feeding off the excitement filling the air. He smiles brightly against the spotlight, his face hot from the stage lights, and an ache slowly makes itself known in his jaw – he isn’t sure if it’s because of how hard he’s been clenching the muscles or if it’s from how many times he has had to fake a smile. As Aled begins to talk again, Charlie feels a hand on his shoulder as the woman from earlier guides him back to the waiting lounge. There he is reunited with Darcy, Elle and Juniper. Darcy immediately pulls him into a hug and slaps him on the back. 

“Brilliant,” she says. “Hopefully that sob story will get you sponsors!” 

Charlie almost shoves her off and gives her an incredulous look. “It’s not a sob story, Darcy. It’s my life,” he snaps. 

Guilt flashes across Darcy’s face for a fleeting moment before she composes herself. 

Before she can reply, Elle is ushering Charlie and Juniper out of the door and back to the car. Once in his seat, Charlie suddenly feels drained. So much happened in such a short amount of time, he doesn’t know how to unpack it, or if he’ll even be able to at all. 

Later that night, after forcing a rather elegant meal down, Charlie lies in bed, finding it almost impossible to fall asleep. After all, how can he when the beginning of the end starts tomorrow?

Charlie turns onto his side, facing the blank wall. He tries to zone out, mentally begging himself to just sleep, but the words Nick Nelson spoke to him suddenly return. 

Run as far west as you can when it begins. 

Run as far west as you can…

Run…

It suddenly dawns on Charlie that he doesn’t exactly have a plan. All he has been focused on is just trying to survive each hour. He forgot that he’s going to have to run for his life pretty much immediately. He knows he can run fast and for as long as he needs to, but he also knows that it’ll be different when he’s actively dodging flying weapons and bodies. 

Charlie angrily presses his face into his pillow and lets out a muffled scream of frustration. It only helps a little bit, and thankfully, nobody comes rushing into the room. Charlie suddenly feels even more restless, so he pulls back his covers and swings his feet onto the ground. He throws on a pair of discarded socks followed by an emerald cashmere jumper. He quietly slips out of his room with ease, making sure to look around in case anyone is nearby. He makes his way to the lift in the lounge, silently wincing at the sound of the doors sliding open. As he steps inside, he looks at the long list of floors available, and he decides on pressing the one that leads to the rooftop garden.

Back in District 12, he would usually go for a run, but since he can’t leave to do that, a garden surrounded by quiet is the next best thing.

The journey to the roof is quick and the doors open, allowing a waft of slightly cold air into the lift. Charlie shivers as he steps out and pulls the jumper over his hands, not caring if it ruins the material. He is immediately drawn to the cement ledge at the edge of the roof and quickly makes his way there. The surface is cold to the touch, but also grounds him a little as he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He lets his head hang as he releases the air in his lungs slowly, and reopens his eyes to look down on the city below. Every building has bright lights illuminating the space around it, trams and cars speeding through the streets. A shrill burst of laughter sounds from a nearby bar below, which causes Charlie’s rage to return. 

He rests his elbows on the ledge, his head in his hands, and releases a grunt of frustration. It doesn’t make him feel any better though, so he just sighs heavily as stands up straighter. He turns to look at his surroundings and is startled when he notices a shadow at the end of the ledge. As his eyes become more adjusted to the darkness, Charlie realises that it’s Nick, perched on the ledge, his arm resting on his knee while his other leg dangles off – staring quite intensely at Charlie. 

Charlie’s eyes widen and his face warms as he remembers the noise he just let out. Charlie looks away immediately. However, he can't help but give into the urge to look back a few seconds later. Nick merely raises an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly. “You okay?” he asks in a rough voice, possibly accompanied by a tense smile. Charlie isn't sure, with how poor the lighting is. 

Charlie lets out a surprised chuckle since that is nowhere near what he was expecting the Career to say. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Charlie bites back. 

Nick’s slightly amused face falls into something more serious, and he’s back to resembling the Nick that Charlie has become used to seeing. 

Charlie scoffs at Nick’s silence and shakes his head, looking out at the city once again. “You should probably get down from there. You could die,” he mutters. 

Nick snorts, causing Charlie to look over at him again. He sees amusement return to Nick’s face as he tilts his head questioningly. “Now wouldn’t that be a shame?” 

Once again, Charlie is taken aback by Nick's response, but then he laughs – and it’s a real laugh, something that Charlie hasn’t done in a long time. 

“Sounds good, I’m in,” he responds without thinking and strategically jumps up, sitting on the ledge five feet away from Nick.

Nick joins in with a laugh of his own. “I don’t think the Gamemakers would be very pleased.”

“Eh, who gives a fuck?” Charlie shrugs. “They’re not that easy to please anyway.” 

Nick nods in agreement, both boys falling quiet as they stare down at the street below them. “Look at them,” Nick mutters, and there’s a hint of disdain in his voice. “Running home to their families or going out for drinks. Meanwhile, we’re quite literally counting down the hours until we die.”

Charlie inhales sharply. Nick is surprisingly blunt, but he’s also not wrong. 

A moment of silence settles between them. Charlie’s mind whirls at the sheer thought of facing death tomorrow, and paired with Nick’s admission of possibly choosing his own demise, Nick’s words from earlier come back to Charlie. 

“Why did you say what you said to me earlier?” he asks suddenly. He turns to look at Nick, and catches as the older boy respositions himself on the ledge, looking a lot more tense than before.

“I don’t…” Nick begins, his voice falling short as he looks out at the city below them. Charlie watches Nick’s jaw muscles flex as he swallows, his fingers fidgeting with the material of his joggers. It almost looks like he’s having an internal battle with himself, but Charlie can’t quite tell from the distance they’re at. “I don’t know. I think that everyone should have a fair chance at this, I guess.” His eyes meet Charlie’s and there’s an odd look in them.

It almost looks like… fear? 

No, that can’t be right. What does Nicholas Nelson, a fucking Career who ranked a ten, have to fear?

Before Charlie can reply, Nick repositions his legs so they’re both dangling off the edge, his back hunched. He looks over his shoulder at Charlie and clears his throat. When he speaks again, there’s a rawness to Nick’s voice that surprises him. “I mean, we only get one shot, right?”

“Yeah, well… You’ve got a better chance than me,” Charlie mutters.

Nick huffs. “It’s not about chance, it’s about skill. You’ve definitely proven you’ve got skill, Mr Eleven.” 

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Alright, Mr Career.”

Nick seems to bristle at that, scoffing quietly as he looks up at the sky. “Yeah, well, being a Career isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I don’t know,” Charlie shrugs. “You’ve basically been trained from birth. You were quite literally born for this.”

“Yeah, and look at where that’s gotten me?” Nick replies, though his words aren’t harsh. As he speaks, his tone quivers with emotion. “For the second time, my mum has to watch her son on television every night and wake up every morning wondering if he’s alive or not. I have the entire country watching me, expecting to see a younger version of my brother on their screens.” He purses his lips together and he looks like he’s about to say something else, but decides against it. “I know that things are far worse in your district, but just because I have training does not mean the odds are automatically in my favour. All it takes is one mistake, and I’m as dead as the rest of them.”

A chill runs down Charlie’s spine as he takes in Nick’s words. He finds it hard to believe that a Career could ever feel like this, but at the same time, it’s almost refreshing. “I… didn’t realise you felt that way,” Charlie says softly. 

“Well, it's not as if I’m allowed to say it out loud,” Nick spits. “Honestly, I’m probably the only Career to ever feel this way. Like I’m some defective toy.”

“You’re not defective,” Charlie replies instantly. “It just makes you human.” 

“That it does,” Nick says softly, his tone laced with regret. He gives Charlie a look, eyes wide and full of emotion. Charlie stares back and it’s almost like time pauses for a few moments. It’s just them, sitting on a ledge, looking down on the world. 

Nick breaks the sudden tension between them by pulling his eyes away. He clears his throat and swings his legs around, using his strong arms to push off the ledge. He lands effortlessly and takes a few steps closer to Charlie. 

Charlie watches him carefully, confused as to why he is coming closer. That confusion doubles when Nick holds his hand out to him. “Come on, we should probably try to get at least one minute of sleep.”

Charlie’s eyes go back and forth between Nick’s hand and the look of dread on his face. Charlie studies the wrinkles in between his eyebrows, the way that he nibbles on his lower lip, and the occasional tremble of his fingers. 

Charlie takes a deep breath before copying Nick’s movements to get off the ledge, but he doesn’t take Nick’s hand. He faintly hears Nick sigh with… disappointment? Charlie isn’t sure why he would be disappointed. 

He can’t get into it though.

There shouldn’t even be an it to begin with.

The pair reach the lift, which opens up instantly, and they step inside. Without pressing anything, the lift doors close and it begins to move down. Nick and Charlie stand in silence, with Charlie only allowing himself to look at the other boy out of his peripheral vision. From what he can see, Nick has both hands in his pockets, staring forward into the abyss.

Thankfully, the lift stops at Charlie’s level. He takes a few steps to leave, but has the sudden urge to look back at Nick. 

Nick is already looking at him with sadness evident in his eyes, though he actually attempts a smile. “See you tomorrow, then,” Nick mumbles.

“Yeah, see you,” Charlie replies grimly. His lips form a tight line, probably resembling a grimace rather than a smile.

Nick nods once before the door slides closed, leaving Charlie alone on the landing. He rubs his face with the palm of his hands, tiredness finally hitting him. He makes his way back to his room, crawls into bed, and brings the duvet up to his chin.

He isn’t aware of how many hours he has left, but he doesn’t really care to know either. 

What he does know is that he’s going to fight for his life. 

Charlie sighs heavily for the umpteenth time, shutting his now heavy eyelids in the hope of sleep.

Let the Games begin.

Chapter Text

Nick’s entire body trembles, restlessness coursing through him despite the cosy warmth of the room he’s sitting in. His hands twitch in his lap, his fingers lacing and unlacing as he tries to find a position that feels right. His foot taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm he unconsciously controls, each beat mirroring the rapidness of his heart rate. He wasn’t able to get any sleep last night, and the conversation with Charlie was playing on a constant loop in his mind. He still can’t believe how reckless he was, showing his competition his weaker and emotional side. And yet, to his dismay, Charlie’s response was full of understanding instead of judgement. 

Their shared conversation proved two things to Nick. First, it confirmed what he’d always suspected deep down – yes, in another lifetime, he and Charlie could’ve been friends. No matter the circumstances, Nick could easily picture them hanging out: whether at school, his house, or even just walking around the town’s square. 

Secondly, it proved that his emotions are completely out of line. Every moment of kindness, every glimpse of vulnerability he shows makes the odds of him winning these Games further and further out of reach. Specifically, the moments with Charlie, because those are the times when he finds himself feeling the most human.

And now, Nick is precisely ten minutes away from having to face him in the arena, as well as the other twenty-two tributes.

He hears the mechanical whir of the door in front of him open, and Nathan comes into view. Nick wishes he felt relief flood through him, but instead, his dread only grows heavier.

The moment the door closes, Nick stands up and walks over to Nathan. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a letter he’d written to his family the night before. “Give this to Tara,” Nick says softly, knowing his time is too short for him to beat around the bush. “I need her to give it to my family… In case…” he trails off, unable to voice the last part out loud. Nathan seems to hesitate, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Nick–” Nathan begins, but Nick doesn’t have the time for this pep talk. 

“Please,” Nick whispers, interrupting him with a pleading stare. Nathan inhales deeply before nodding and taking it.

“Alright,” Nathan agrees.

“Promise me,” Nick urges and Nathan places the letter over his heart in a silent vow. Nick does feel his shoulders relax just a hint at that. “Thank you.”

“Do your clothes fit well?” Nathan asks, nodding towards Nick, who’s dressed in a pair of olive cargo pants and leather combat boots, a hooded nylon jacket partially zipped up over his black shirt. 

“They do,” he nods. Nathan smiles in return and they fall quiet, neither one willing to say goodbye just yet. The clock on the wall that shows the time remaining is under five minutes now. Nick’s heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his throat. 

“Nick, I just want you to know that–” Nathan starts and Nick isn’t sure if it’s the fear of stepping on the podium or the fear of imminent death that makes him interrupt the older man, but he does.

“I’m scared, Nathan,” Nick says before a dry gasp escapes his throat, and he lowers his head. It sucks that he’s saying it right before entering the arena, but holy fuck does it feel good to finally say it out loud. “I’m so fucking scared right now. I thought I could do this, but I don’t know if I can trust my judgement as easily as the other tributes. My emotions have been everywhere, and I can hardly think straight–”

“Nick,” Nathan interrupts firmly, grabbing Nick by his shoulders. “You listen, and you listen well. It’s good that you’re scared. Once you step inside that arena, you can’t base every move off of judgement. You need to base it on instinct.” He points a finger at the centre of Nick’s chest. “That fear you’re feeling? That’s instinct. That’s what’s going to keep you alive. You need to embrace it, whatever that looks like.”

Nick’s eyes begin to well with tears but he doesn’t dare let them fall over. Instead, he does something unexpected – he pulls Nathan in for a hug. He doesn’t know if it’s right or if it’s even allowed. However, he’s got one in twenty-four chance of surviving so…

Fuck it.

Nathan stiffens under the touch but is quick to hug him back. The moment’s cut short by an automated voice speaking into the room. 

“Tributes to your podium… Fifty seconds until the Games begin...”

“Let’s get you situated,” Nathan encourages, extending his arm to the podium door. As Nick gets in, Nathan zips his jacket up. 

“Tributes to your podium… Thirty seconds until the games begin…”

He fixes the hood of Nick’s jacket, leaning in subtly. “Don’t let them win, Nick,” he whispers, his voice so quiet that Nick thinks he’s imagined it. 

Surely I only heard him say that because of my lack of sleep. Why else would a Capitol designer say something like that? Nick’s breath hitches at the notion that maybe, just maybe, he isn’t the only person in this room who hates the Capitol. However, he doesn’t dare meet Nathan’s gaze to see if his assumption is right. Instead, Nick gives the slightest hint of a nod as he squares his shoulders. The tube door closes and his hands curl into tight fists. 

Soon enough, the podium begins to move as the ceiling above Nick opens, and a bright light momentarily blinds him. He expects his heart to start racing but, oddly enough, its pulse remains steady. The anxiety and fear that Nick was feeling mere seconds ago is now subsiding, forming into a quiet confidence. 

As he rises above ground, he squints slightly, his eyes adjusting to the light. While he takes in his surroundings, the first thing he sees is green.

A lot of green. Followed by yellow, red, and pink.

He observes the space around him, taking in the vast expanse of the clearing: a sprawling field that stretches about twenty feet in every direction before dense, multi-coloured forestry takes over, a natural wall of towering trees and undergrowth. At the heart of the field stands the famous Capitol Cornucopia, an imposing golden structure gleaming under the sun. Surrounding it are scattered heaps of supplies, both food and weaponry, as well as survival and medical kits from the looks of it.

His eyes sweep over the piles, lingering on the variety of weapons. Among the display, he spots an arranged stack of knives and axes, their sharp edges catching the light. Spears and machetes lie nearby, their polished surfaces glinting with deadly potential. He even sees a silver bow and quiver, the tips of the arrows shining like a promise – or perhaps a threat. He mentally catalogues their positions, knowing full well that within moments chaos will descend, and every item in that pile will be fought for with blood and desperation. 

The disembodied voice of a man echoes through the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the 74th Hunger Games begin! In twenty…” 

As the voice begins to count down the final twenty seconds, a holographic number appears above the cornucopia. Nick inhales deeply before positioning himself into his running stance, ready to launch as soon as the timer hits zero. He takes the chance to glance around the field, sizing up every tribute as each individual begins to prepare themselves. He spots Harry first, followed by Cassia, Ben, and the other Careers. They’re all sharing looks between them and Harry even has a cocky grin on his face.

The sight of his “allies” reminds him of what he told Charlie. 

Speaking of…

Nick continues looking around before finally managing to spot him. Charlie looks as tired as Nick feels, but his features have a clear determination etched into them. Charlie’s eyes meet Nick’s, his eyebrows raising in surprise at the fact that he’s caught Nick mid-stare. 

Nick subtly looks to the west before he returns his gaze to Charlie, urging the younger boy to follow his advice. 

“Ten…” 

Charlie looks to the west before glancing back at Nick, his face void of any emotion. 

Surely he remembers, doesn’t he? To run west?

“Five…”

Nick nods slightly with encouragement as his final act of humanity before he refocuses on the timer.

If he doesn’t go west, that’s his problem. I tried to help.  

His pulse has only picked up slightly and he mentally drags out all of the anger and resentment that he’s been holding in for the last eighteen years of his life, bringing it right to the forefront of his brain. With ease, he lets the calm rage take over every fibre of his being, his muscles aching to do what they’ve been training for. 

“Three… Two… One!”

A loud horn echoes across the field and Nick launches himself off the podium, leaving everything that made him human behind.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

The moment Charlie’s podium takes him to the surface, he feels like he can’t breathe normally. His eyes squint as he takes in the arena around him, immediately scanning to locate Juniper. He sees her five podiums to his right. Juniper is visibly shaking but seems to have a resolved look on her face, her hands in tight fists. He doesn’t linger on her because he’s not sure if he can take it anymore. His gaze moves past her and lands on Nick, who’s already looking back at him. As the loud steady drum of the countdown sounds, Charlie watches in surprise as Nick subtly nods to his right. 

Charlie looks in the same direction for one second before going back to Nick, who nods towards Charlie this time. 

Charlie doesn’t know what to think. He remembers Nick’s piece of advice – to go west. But now that he’s on the podium, only a few seconds away from the beginning of the end, he isn’t sure if he should trust him in any capacity. For all he knows, Nick could be telling him to go west to try and trap him. 

He’s technically a Career, after all, he reminds himself. And yet, last night, Nick seemed to be anything but a Career when they talked.

The drumming gets louder, and Charlie sees that the countdown is now about to reach ten seconds. Focus, Charlie. He steadies his breath and looks forward. With five seconds left, his eyes see the glint of the silver bow and arrow, taunting him just outside the Cornucopia. 

My only chance at survival is right there. I have to go for it, Nick’s advice be damned.

As soon as Charlie hears – and feels – the horn, he sprints off the podium in the direction of the cornucopia. In his peripheral vision, he notices Juniper run towards a patch of cherry blossom trees and he tries to make a mental note so he can try to find her there. His feet pound against the grass, his arms propelling him forward. It’s the fastest he’s ever run in his life, and yet it doesn't feel fast enough. Within seconds, his ears are bombarded with a cacophony of sounds: screams, shouting, the loud booming noises of the cannons in the distance… It’s all too much. 

Finally, he reaches the bow and arrow that’s propped against a backpack. He has no clue what’s inside, but he grabs the strap and slings it over his shoulder rapidly, followed by the quiver of arrows over the other. Just as he reaches for the bow, he sees a bloodied hand fall not too far from where he’s standing. His head snaps up and meets the eyes of the male tribute from District 8, stepping forward with a sadistic grin on his face. As he passes his first victim, the boy twists the spear out of the body and readies it in his hand. Charlie quickly realises that he’s likely to be next if he doesn't move.

Without a second thought, Charlie grabs the bow and then sprints in the direction he came from, heading for the forest. Running is slightly harder now that he has the backpack and his weapon, but he’s forcing himself to keep a steady and fast pace. There is no room for error here. One tiny little mistake could be the difference between life and death. As he reaches the edge of the forest, he focuses his gaze on the ground, instinctively jumping over the stray branches and rocks on the forest floor. 

“I’m coming for you, Twelve!” the District 8 tribute shouts after him. 

Charlie tries to speed up, but his legs and lungs are burning already. Since he’s on a relatively flat path now, he looks up to check his surroundings and sees a slight opening on his right. He veers into it, hoping that he’ll lose the tribute chasing him down. Charlie immediately gets hit in the face with some loose branches, so he has to hold up his arm to protect his face, which causes him to slow down. As he continues to run, he feels his shoulder get jerked back as the bow in his hand gets caught on one of the thicker branches, his torso twisting harshly, and he falls down onto his stomach.

He hears heavy footsteps in front of him approaching quickly and Charlie pushes himself up just in time to lock eyes with the boy from District 8 again. He staggers to his feet and unhooks his bow, turning around and nearly colliding with the last person he wants to see.

Nick.

He is standing in front of him, his hazel eyes clouded with anger. Part of his face is covered with blood splatter, the crimson red dribbling down his neck. The knife in his hand is still dripping with the blood of his most recent victim, no doubt. His chest is heaving with rage as his eyes meet Charlie’s.

“Shit,” Charlie whispers to himself, fear coursing through his veins. The charming boy Charlie had met last night is nowhere to be seen now; what’s left in his place is a stoic Career with a fresh taste for violence. And from the looks of it, it seems Nick’s just getting started.

As Charlie prepares to run, he looks behind him to see that the boy from District 8 has also caught up with him and is storming forward in his direction.

Charlie takes a breath, stepping to the side as he looks around. Due to the amount of trees, getting out of this is going to be hard. He looks back at Nick only to see him flip a knife in his hand. 

Not even a second later, Nick lifts his arm and launches the knife towards Charlie. Charlie manages to duck in time, but then he hears the loud thump of a body hitting the ground, followed by the sound of a cannon. 

The boy from District 8 is splayed out on the ground, with Nick’s knife lodged in the centre of his forehead, his eyes slowly glazing over as he stares off into space.

Charlie looks back at Nick with wide eyes, and Nick shakes his head before rushing forward, his nostrils flaring with anger. “I told you to go west!” he shouts. “Now fucking go west!” Nick gestures to Charlie’s left, chest still heaving.

Charlie scrambles up, tightening his grip on the precious bow and starts running once again. Somehow, he reaches the edge of the trees but tries to keep himself hidden as he slows down. He looks around quickly, realising that the patch of cherry blossom trees he saw Juniper run towards earlier is now a lot closer than before, so he heads in that direction. 

He isn’t sure how long he walks for, but it’s long enough that he feels his body begin to ache. The only sound that accompanies the leaves crunching beneath his feet is the occasional boom of the cannon. Charlie counts two more as he walks, but he has no idea how many lives have already been lost in the bloodbath.

He isn’t sure how he survived that, especially with a bag and weapon. He doesn’t allow himself to feel any pride though. It’s far from over.  

Eventually, he reaches the pink trees and slows down. He keeps checking around the whole area, the trees being more sparse as he continues, but so far he seems to be alone.

That is, until he’s hit on the back by something, and stumbles forward to try and find his balance again. He instinctively pulls an arrow out and places it in the bow, arming it as he spins around. His eyes grow wide at who he sees. 

Juniper. 

Because of his shock, he accidentally lets his fingers slip, but miraculously manages to change the direction of the arrow by lifting the bow slightly at the last second. Thankfully, it ends up in a tree behind Juniper and his body immediately sags with relief. 

“C-Charlie?” Juniper whispers, eyes wide and full of shock. “I thought you died!” She doesn't wait for a response as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around Charlie.

Charlie immediately hugs her back. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says into her hair, bringing his trembling hand up and cupping the back of her head. 

“I just ran into the trees,” Juniper says, her voice wobbling as she pulls away. “I didn’t manage to grab anything.” 

“That’s okay,” Charlie says, smiling down at her. “I managed to get a bag. Hopefully, that will have some useful stuff inside.” He takes her hand and heads to the tree that his arrow sunk into to retrieve it – he cannot afford to lose any. “And I have these to protect us.” He pulls it out with some force and shows it to Juniper with a hopeful smile.

“Okay,” she replies.

Another cannon goes off, reminding Charlie of where they are. He looks up and searches the space around them, on high alert in case anyone is lurking. “Come on,” he mumbles. “Let’s keep moving. We need to find shelter.” 

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick feels frozen in time as he stares at the scattered dead bodies around the cornucopia, slowly taking a head count. Minus the boy from District 8 and the girl from District 5 that he’d killed earlier in the forest, he counts a total of three other tributes that are spaced throughout the field. He tries not to focus on the feeling in the centre of his chest as he glances down at his blood-stained hands, fighting the urge to react to what he’s done. 

Keep it together before they decide to kill you next, he reminds himself. He looks up at the trees surrounding the field, taking in the deliberate and unusual design of the arena. The trees form a striking gradient, their colours transitioning smoothly from green to yellow to red to pink, marking the arena’s limits with a vibrant ring of colour.

“Nelson, how many you got over there?” Harry’s voice calls from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. Nick’s shoulders tense, but he manages to keep a hold on his façade of indifference, turning back and looking at Harry. The other boy’s hair is completely dishevelled, a cut on his cheekbone barely visible under all of the dirt and dried blood that’s caked on his skin. Whether the blood belonged to him or another tribute, Nick couldn’t say. Harry’s partner from District 1, Pearl, is cleaning dirt out from underneath her nails with the tip of her combat knife.

“Three,” Nick replies, making his way back over to the group. Ben and Jenna, both of the tributes from District 4, are currently scavenging through the remnants that were left behind by the other tributes when the games first started. At the sound of Nick’s voice, Ben appears from behind a stack of boxes. “Five, if you count the two I killed near the yellowing trees to the east.”

“I counted two back towards the pine trees!” Cassia calls out from Nick’s left. She skips over joyfully, swinging her machete back and forth carelessly as she does a twirl. “That makes seven, right?”

“Good job, Cassia. You can do maths,” Pearl says dryly, tucking her knife into her trouser pocket. She claps slowly, a fake smile on her face. Cassia’s face sours as she glares at Pearl.

“At least I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty,” Cassia nods towards Pearl’s hands before holding up her own blood-stained fingers. “How many people did you kill, Pearl?” 

Pearl’s face reddens at the mention of her kill count – or lack thereof – and she reaches into her pocket where she’d just tucked the knife away. 

“None yet, but I’m okay with us being short one if you’re offering,” she growls, getting ready to charge at Cassia, but Harry stops her by placing his hand on her shoulder. Nick can’t refrain from rolling his eyes as Pearl immediately turns into the human embodiment of a puppy, stepping back and watching Harry with full attention. 

“Enough of that, the both of you,” Harry says with annoyance. “It doesn’t matter how many people we’ve killed, it matters who. Did any of you kill the Spring boy? Or at least see where he ran off to?”

Nick’s entire body stiffens, his mind flashing back to when he ran into Charlie earlier. His anger from running into the other boy – especially after he had signalled for Charlie to go west not even thirty minutes prior – is still fresh in his mind, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

“I wish,” Ben mutters from underneath his breath, reaching into one of the spare bags he picked up from the cornucopia and pulling out an apple. “I bet he would’ve made the most pathetic noises,” he adds, a twisted smirk spreading across his lips. 

“No, please don’t kill me!” Jenna appears from behind him, raising her hand dramatically against her forehead. Everyone around Nick laughs before Cassia joins in.

“Please, I just want to go home,” she whines, mimicking a pouty face.

Every word they speak makes Nick’s stomach twist with anger. How can they just stand here, talking about death as if it’s an after-school activity?

“What about you, Nick?” Harry asks, nodding towards Nick’s direction. “You seemed really keen on staring at him earlier when we were at the podiums.” 

Nick’s breath hitches and before he can reply, Pearl holds up her knife and points it towards the patch of cherry blossom trees. “I saw the girl go that way. I’m willing to bet my left hand he followed her.”

Nick’s heart nearly falls into his stomach as they all look towards the clearing. He clears his throat before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. I saw the guy from District Eight chase Charlie east, towards the section of green trees.”

Harry tilts his head, peering at Nick as he studies him. “So you saw him and you didn’t go after him?” 

“Of course, I went after him, dipshit,” Nick crosses his arms defensively. “By the time I got there, the kid from Eight had lost Charlie’s trail. It was just him there and I took care of that.” Nick observes Harry as he purses his lips, clearly showing his scepticism. “What, you don’t believe me?” 

“Harry, what did you just say?” Cassia sighs as if this were the most boring place to be. “We’ll have plenty of time to fight each other, once we kill everyone else, right? So let’s quit having some stupid pissing contest and head east since that’s where Nick saw him last.” 

“For once, Cass and I can agree on something,” Pearl chimes in. “That girl from Twelve is probably dead anyways.”

As the group begins to gather equipment, Nick can feel Harry’s gaze on him the entire time. He tries to pay him no mind, looking through the boxes to see what he himself can scavenge. He manages to find a small tactical knife as well as a kukri knife that is hidden under a bag. He swiftly slides the tactical knife inside his boot before placing the kukri knife in one of the pockets of his jacket. The only other thing he manages to find is a small sack with the Panem symbol etched into it. He pulls it open and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or pissed when he sees supplies staring back at him instead of food.

He ruffles through it, noticing there’s a medical sewing kit as well as some gauze and bandages inside. As he puts the items back in the bag, he hears footsteps from the outside of the cornucopia. He stills, his ears practically perking up as he listens, his breath coming to a halt. There’s a moment of silence before he can barely hear hushed whispering through the thin wall.

“... don’t trust… for a second… gotta be lying…”

“... matter. Once it’s… of us… just take… out…”

Nick strains his ears, trying to make out the words, but a sudden scream in the distance makes his blood run cold. His heart races as he springs to his feet, tossing the bag over his shoulder and quietly making his way toward the field. Every muscle is taut, and alert to any sound or movement. He spots the other Careers preparing as well, moving cautiously, their eyes darting around in search of any imminent threat.

They exchange glances, their eyes narrowing in shared understanding, just as another scream pierces the air, followed by the deafening boom of a cannon. They all collectively look towards the noise before Jenna points west, right where the vibrant red of the maple trees blends into the soft pink of the cherry blossoms. 

“Came from that way,” she looks back with a spark in her eyes. 

“I don’t hear a second cannon,” Cassia adds, her posture changing from cautious to thrilled. “That means someone’s still out the–”

“Well, they won’t be if we keep fucking talking,” Ben interrupts. “Come on!”

Nick’s stomach drops as he watches Ben sprint toward the forest, drawing a shortsword from its sheath with quick precision. Without a second thought, Nick follows, adrenaline surging through him, pushing him faster.

Charlie.

The name echoes in Nick’s head as his heart races and his mind runs a hundred miles ahead of him, envisioning the worst. He leaps over tree roots and uneven ground, determination flooding every step. Behind him, he hears Harry’s footsteps – then, with a burst of speed, Harry passes him, leaving Nick trailing, panic clawing at him.

Fuck! No. No, no, no!

Without a word, Harry pushes past Nick and Ben, his movements quick and deliberate. Nick’s instinct is to look away, but something keeps him rooted in place as he watches Harry roll the body over, followed by a grunt of frustration. Nick’s chest tightens as Harry steps back, revealing the lifeless body beneath him. A knot of tension in Nick’s shoulders loosens, replaced by a strange sense of relief, though it doesn’t quite erase the unease that lingers in his chest. He steps forward cautiously, his gaze drawn to the young face of the girl from District 3.

There’s a jagged line across her throat, the blood still pooling around her head as her vacant eyes stare off into space. Her features, once full of potential, are now frozen in stillness and the sight makes Nick’s stomach curl. His breakfast threatens to make a reappearance but, instead of reacting, he tries to remind himself that it’s not Charlie.

Why the fuck do I even care? He grimaces as he turns around, his eyes scanning the trees above them. Just as he’s about to suggest they head back to the cornucopia, the unmistakable sound of snapping branches echoes through the forest. Without a word, they all swivel their heads toward the noise. Harry raises his hand, signalling for silence, his ears tuned to the rhythmic pattern of footsteps breaking through the underbrush.

In an instant, everyone goes into hiding, perfectly still and poised for whoever is about to appear. Nick spots a sturdy maple tree nearby, its bark marked with a few knots, and quickly climbs it, pulling himself up with ease. The branch creaks under his weight but a gust of wind sweeps through the trees just as it cracks, masking the sound.

Almost like they’re watching us, Nick thinks with a roll of his eyes.

He settles in, listening intently as the footsteps draw closer, his knife gripped tightly in his hand as he begins to strategise. But everything stops as his eyes lock onto Juniper, Charlie’s partner, her arms cradling a small stack of wood – a perfect amount for a fire.

Fuck! If she’s here then Charlie can’t be far…

Nick’s heart is beating like a drum as he grips the handle of his knife tightly. Part of him hopes Juniper escapes, and finds her way back to Charlie where she’ll be safe. But the darker, colder part of him whispers to take her out now because if she’s gone, then Charlie might have longer to live.

Nick’s gaze locks onto Harry’s hiding spot and he instantly recognises the look on his face – a dangerous spark of strategy forming in his eyes.

Shit.

Nick briefly considers diving in and ending it right there, cutting the problem off before it can even begin. But he quickly reminds himself: that he’s no good to Charlie if he’s dead.

What about you, Nick? What about your life?

The words echo in his mind, disturbingly familiar – sounding like a blend of his voice and David’s. Are you really going to let your mum watch you die for some weakling from District 12?

Nick exhales slowly, closing his eyes as he makes a decision against his better judgement. He slips his weapon back into his pocket, already predicting Harry’s next move… or lack thereof. 

Sure enough, Harry doesn’t signal for them to attack. Juniper walks by, completely unaware of the danger lurking just metres away. Her figure grows smaller in the distance until she disappears entirely, leaving only an uneasy silence in her wake. One by one, the Careers emerge from their hiding spots, tension thickening with every step. By the time they regroup, Cassie’s face is flushed with fury, her eyes blazing as she rounds on Harry.

“What. The. Fuck?!” she hisses through clenched teeth, her voice low but venomous. “She was right fucking there, Harry!”

“Right, because bragging about killing a thirteen-year-old is such an achievement,” Nick mutters before he can stop himself. Instantly, all eyes turn to him, confusion flickering across their faces. But it’s Harry’s expression that stands out, his gaze sharp and full of suspicion.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Cassia scowls, tilting her head before Harry can say anything. Her voice drips with impatience, her eyes narrowing in challenge. “That’s what we’re here to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes but if we killed her, we wouldn’t be able to follow her.” The words leave him before he can stop himself. Cassia blinks, clearly unimpressed by his reasoning. He pushes on before she, or anyone else for that matter, can interject.

“Think about it,” Nick continues. “She’s using that wood for a fire. That means she’s setting up camp but look at the clearing. It’s too exposed for just one person. She’s not alone.”

Cassia doesn’t respond immediately, her scowl shifting into a calculating expression as she studies him. Nick holds her gaze, fighting to suppress the flicker of anxiety creeping into his mind as guilt and fear slowly build in his gut. 

He and Charlie aren’t allies – at least, not officially. There was no pact before entering the arena: no handshake, no agreement, no promise exchanged between one another. They’re nothing more than pawns in the same twisted game. So why does the thought of helping the others hunt Charlie down gnaw at him so deeply? In a game where trust is a weakness, it shouldn’t matter. And yet, the idea of breaking their fragile connection feels heavier than it should. 

“He’s right,” Harry sighs begrudgingly as if his words tasted like bile. “We’ll trail her until we find the camp and then sleep nearby in shifts. In the morning, we’ll kill them both.”

No one challenges the notion, instead, all of them silently move towards the direction Juniper went. It doesn’t take them long to find Juniper and Charlie’s hiding spot among the cherry blossom trees, thanks to the few sticks that Juniper had dropped along her way. 

They decide to camp about fifty feet away, finding a gathering of large maple trees and staying put for the night. Ben opens a small pack of food that contains a loaf of bread and three apples. After splitting it into portions, they all quietly eat as the sun sets, no one saying a word. As Nick silently chews on the bread, he feels his imposter syndrome kicking in big time. 

It doesn’t take very long after sunset for the Panem anthem to play loudly, echoing across the sky. Nick and the other Careers look upwards towards the small clearing of trees just as an image whirs to life against the clouds. The symbol of Panem shines brightly, the words ‘THE FALLEN’ written underneath it. It’s followed by pictures of every tribute that has died so far. Nick finds himself having to look away as they show the tributes from Districts 5 and 8 that he had to kill earlier.

At the end, nine cannons go off in a row, one for each fallen tribute. Nick can feel himself growing more and more distraught at each booming noise, looking down at the leftover bread in his hands. Suddenly, he’s not feeling very hungry. He hears the soft rustling of leaves as Harry scoots over, plopping down next to Nick and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Why so blue?” Harry asks, his words sounding sincere, but his voice laced with venom. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly grown a conscience.” Nick purses his lips together, lowering his head as he looks away. He feels Harry’s grip on his bicep tightens. “You know,” he whispers in a dangerously low voice, “each cannon going off is like a lullaby – music to my ears.”

Nick sighs deeply, his eyes meeting Harry’s. In the darkness, Nick can still make out the twinkle in Harry’s eyes. “I bet it is,” he murmurs, shoving Harry off him and slowly coming to a stand. 

You sadistic fuck, he adds internally as he looks up at the tree he was resting against to see if there’s a stable branch he could sleep on. Unfortunately, they all look far too slim to hold his weight. 

“What, do you not feel the same?” Harry asks, coming to a stand as well. “Because if you don’t, there’s a quick remedy to that,” he continues, his fist clenching. Nick can feel everyone’s gaze on him, though he can’t decipher whether it’s the other Careers or all of Panem. 

A lump forms in his throat but he pushes past it. “I guess. It’s less people to kill,” he agrees after a tense moment of silence. Harry doesn’t seem happy with his answer though.

His eyes are full of warning as he steps forward, their faces mere inches away. “That’s what I thought, lap dog,” he grits between his teeth. 

Without another word, he moves back to where Pearl and Ben are sitting, the air thick with tension. Nick has to remember to control his breathing as anger courses through his veins, building a home behind his ribcage. "Lapdog" was a common insult aimed at the people of District 2, known for its close ties to the Capitol and its reputation as being overly obedient to their whims. 

Everything that Nick is against. However, he can’t voice that here, especially around the other Careers. So instead, he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he tastes the metallic tang of blood fill his mouth. He decides to walk around the base of the tree, separating himself from the others as he gets ready to attempt to rest. He is undeniably welling up but he doesn’t let the tears fall, alternatively opting to wrap his fingers around the handle of the knife in his pocket. He doesn’t trust any of the people around him, but he also doesn’t have much of a say in the matter. 

The only person I trust is the person that’s most likely to get me killed.

He isn’t sure how he manages to drift off to sleep, or if he could even really call it sleep. But his eyes close nonetheless and he curls in on himself and tries his best to try and forget what tomorrow’s going to bring. Maybe, he thinks to himself, I’ll get lucky enough and I won’t have to wake up.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

Charlie wakes up with a start and is somewhat shocked that he’s still alive. He sits up, his back aching thanks to sleeping on the ground, and he sees Juniper still sleeping beside him. Charlie sighs and takes in the area surrounding them. They’re slightly hidden underneath a thick canopy of cherry blossom trees and if he wasn’t in a life or death situation, he’d allow himself to think it’s quite idyllic. 

He opens the bag that he managed to get from the Cornucopia yesterday, checking up to make sure their supplies are still faring alright. He takes count of the loaves of bread, noting that four remain, before picking up the flask to see how much water they went through. After deciding that they would need to find a source of water soon, he makes sure the netting and blanket are still accounted for before sealing the bag just as Juniper stirs awake. He keeps one loaf of bread and the flask out, tucking the bag next to the tree stump. 

He sees Juniper look around, slightly dazed.

“Hey,” he says softly and smiles at her. He holds out the bread and water and watches as her eyes flicker to the items.

Her eyes grow wide and she takes the bread. “Where did you get this?” she asks.

“It was in the bag I found at the Cornucopia,” Charlie explains.

“Oh.” Her face falls at the reminder of the previous day.

Charlie isn’t sure how to respond, so he just takes a sip of the water before handing it out to Juniper again. In return, she rips the bread into two and swaps it with the water.

A few moments of silence pass, and then Juniper asks a question that takes Charlie by surprise.

“Did you… kill anyone?” Her voice is quiet as a mouse, hesitant with each syllable.

Charlie takes a breath and looks at the young girl. Her eyes are focused on her fingers pulling at the bread as she eats.

“No,” he answers slowly. “I thought I might have had to though. I got chased by the boy from District Eight, but…” He pauses, not sure if he should share the truth. “I managed to lose him.” 

“Oh,” is all Juniper replies. “I saw someone die,” she whispers after a beat of silence, her face falling. Charlie’s heart drops. “I climbed up a tree to hide, and it happened below me.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he replies quietly, looking down at his own bread. “The Cornucopia was a bloodbath.”

“It usually is,” she responds bluntly. 

Charlie is taken aback to hear those words coming from someone so young. He takes a deep breath and takes a bite of his bread. It’s heavy and dense in his mouth, and the uneasy feeling in his stomach makes it even harder to swallow, but he forces it down regardless.

They continue eating in silence, Charlie’s ears zoning in on every noise that he hears. He can hear the branches rustling through the wind, the leaves brushing against one another. He hears the sound of the wind as it blows through, surrounding him and Juniper in a gentle breeze. Nothing sounds out of the ordinary or makes him think they’re in imminent danger, so he continues to scarf down the loaf of bread.

Juniper gasps softly, causing Charlie’s head to snap up as he readies himself to grab his bow. However, much to his surprise, he and Juniper watch in amazement as the wind evokes a small kaleidoscope of butterflies to appear; each one breaks away from the branches above, their wings fluttering and shimmering in the morning sun, dancing through the sky as each one moves upwards. It's breathtakingly beautiful and, for a moment, Charlie forgets why they’re here in the first place.

A stray butterfly trails behind, flapping its wings hastily as it flies in a circle, seemingly lost. He watches as Juniper raises her finger gingerly so as not to startle it, followed by her face lighting up with joy as the butterfly lands on her outstretched finger.

They both share a look of awe and smile widely. 

But suddenly, the moment is abruptly interrupted by the sound of a branch snapping in the near distance. Juniper jumps, causing the butterfly to take flight once again, and Charlie immediately grabs his bow and arrows. On high alert, he slowly steps towards where the sound came from. His head whips around to look in every possible direction as thoroughly as he can. 

“Stay here,” he whispers to Juniper as he readies an arrow in the bow. 

His ears pick up a faint rustle of the leaves and branches to his right. He twists his body to see something move, but the shape isn’t clear and it’s too far away to determine if it’s another tribute or just a wild animal. He pulls his arrow tighter just in case though. 

The seconds are long and silent as he waits for something to jump out at him, but there seems to be nothing, so he slowly lets his bow down and allows himself to breathe normally. 

Big mistake. 

A gust of air brushes against the back of his neck, quickly followed by a dampened thump and a gasp. Charlie spins around to see Juniper gasping for air, pinned against the trunk of a cherry blossom tree by a silver spear. 

“Charlie!” she cries out. 

“Juniper!” His heart drops at the sight and he rushes over to her. “No, no, no, no, no,” he whispers. 

He readies his bow again, frantically looking around for the tribute while blocking Juniper’s body. He feels himself tearing into two: part of him wants to drop his bow and tend to his friend, and the other wants to secure the area and stay on alert. 

I can’t save June if I die next. 

As Charlie turns his head to the left, he hears the sound of a stick snap loudly to his right. His head spins on a swivel as he sees Jenna – the tribute from District 4 – holding onto the trunk of a tree as if she’d just caught herself from tripping over roots. Charlie notices the devilish grin on her face, her eyes sparkling with pride, like a cub who’s just made its first successful kill. A burning rage washes over Charlie, as if someone had just poured molten lava over his shoulders, and his teeth grit together as his jaw clenches shut. When she realises that Charlie can see her, she tauntingly waves at him. 

Charlie doesn’t think twice before aiming his weapon. His entire body is trembling with anger but his hands are steady and calm as he releases the arrow at her, the projectile whirring through the air so quickly that she doesn’t have time to react. The arrow sinks into her chest, and her grin morphs into a look of shock as she realises what has happened. She brings a hand to the arrow and staggers back, suddenly too weak to hold onto the tree until finally, she collapses onto the ground.  

The sound of a cannon quickly follows. 

Charlie is quick to go back to Juniper, who looks considerably paler than before. He drops his bow and arrow and brings his shaky hands to the wound, but doesn’t touch it in case it hurts her even further. 

Juniper looks down at the spear inside her and whimpers through her panicked breaths. “Charlie,” she whispers again.

“I know, I know,” he replies. He swallows thickly as his eyes prick with tears. “It’ll be okay, y-you’re gonna be fine.” 

Juniper continues to gasp and brings her own trembling hands to the weapon. 

Charlie is quick to take her hands in his. “No, don’t touch it,” he says. “Just hang on. It’s okay.” 

“Charlie,” she repeats, her voice and breathing somewhat much calmer than before. 

Charlie looks up and their eyes meet. Juniper smiles sadly at him as she winces. “It’s okay,” she mouths. 

“No,” Charlie’s voice breaks, and he shakes his head. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to trick his brain to go into fight mode.

She can’t die. I can’t let her die.

Once he reaches her, He tries to reassure himself that it’s going to be alright, that he can fix this, but he soon realises her lips are tainted red due to blood trickling out the corner of her mouth, her eyes seeming to be unfocused as she stares out towards the trees. Charlie takes her head in his hands and a sob escapes him as their harsh reality sinks in. 

She can’t be saved.

Her eyes flutter as her strength slowly diminishes. “Hey, hey,” Charlie whispers and gently shakes her head. She coughs a little but manages to look at him. “I’ve got you, okay?” 

She smiles weakly and brings her hand to rest on Charlie’s wrist. “I–” 

“No, don’t talk, it’s okay,” Charlie interrupts. He feels a tear fall down his cheek, so he looks up to try and retain some pretence of strength for her. He takes in the stillness of the cherry blossom tree, almost frozen in time. That’s when he’s reminded of something Juniper once said to him. “Hey,” he continues, looking back at her, trying to smile. “You told me during training that you love cherry blossom trees, right?” 

“Mmhm,” Juniper whimpers in response. 

“We’re beneath one now, see?” Charlie flicks his eyes up. Juniper’s follow and she smiles through the pain. “Remember you told me that they can represent life and new beginnings?” 

“They…” Juniper starts, but she is struggling to catch her breath. “They can a-also represent beauty… a-and violence and d-death.”

Charlie feels his heart twist. “Oh, June,” he whispers and his head falls.

Juniper smiles at the nickname and squeezes Charlie’s wrist. Charlie looks back up, and their eyes meet. “Thank you,” she whispers. 

Charlie’s breath hitches, and all he can do is watch as the life in her eyes disappears. He sees her chest stop heaving as she releases one final breath and then her head is but a heavy weight in Charlie’s hands and her hand falls from his wrist. He gasps as it dawns on him.

“No, please, no,” he cries out. “June, don’t go, please.”

The only response is the sound of a cannon booming overhead.

A sob rattles through his body as he falls to his knees. He uses his hands to soften the impact as he hits the ground. His hands turn into fists, desperate for something to grab onto, but all that there is is the soil beneath him.

He releases a loud yell of anger and frustration as he punches the ground once. The scream seems to weaken him to the point where he collapses forward against Juniper's limp legs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats through his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I’m so sorry.” 

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, but he manages to compose himself to the point where his brain reminds him that he could be in danger. There are more Careers out there, and other bloodthirsty tributes who could be waiting to strike. So, with a deep breath, he pushes himself upright and slowly looks back at Juniper, her blank gaze staring just behind him. Without hesitation, he reaches over and gently closes her eyes in a weak attempt to make it look like she’s asleep. Charlie bites his lip which stifles a sob, forcing himself to focus once more. He tears his eyes away and hastily picks up the bag and his weapon. He almost stumbles as he quickly walks away, finding it harder and harder to breathe. He tells himself that he can’t stay here anymore. It’s already been too long. He’s too late to save Juniper, but she would want him to save himself. 

He runs into the trees and pushes the branches out of his path until he’s gasping for air. He begins to feel a bit dizzy, so he has to lean against a tree trunk and squeeze his eyes shut. He takes a few deep breaths, forcing his lungs to expand. 

Then he hears a soft electronic whir next to his ear. He jerks his head up and looks up to see a small camera, hidden in plain sight, in the hollow of a tree trunk. He pushes off the tree and takes a few steps back. Anger fills his veins as he is reminded that the people of Panem witnessed everything that had just occurred. 

They saw everything and did nothing to save her.

He spits in the direction of the camera before taking a few steps, but then he pauses. He turns his head to look directly at the camera, hoping that his face says what he feels. Then, he brings three fingers to his lips and holds them up to salute. 

Fuck you, Panem. 

 <>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick’s heart has officially stopped, frozen in time with the rest of his body as he stares at Juniper’s limp corpse from the tree he’s still hidden behind. It isn’t the first time he’s seen someone die since being in here, considering he had killed two others yesterday. And yet, seeing the way Charlie broke down, the way Juniper comforted him even though it was her life slipping through the cracks of the earth… It makes his blood run cold. 

As Charlie runs off, Nick watches Harry and the others appear from their hiding spots, not wasting a second in going after him. Nick tries to move his body, he knows that he needs to run if he wants to try and keep Charlie safe, but he can’t. His legs stay still, feeling as heavy as lead, as he stares at the end of the spear sticking out from Juniper’s stomach. 

Both tributes that Nick killed didn’t get a chance to say a word before they died. If anything, their deaths were quick. Merciful, even. But Juniper… 

Her death was far from merciful. She suffered the entire time, her small hands trembling with each movement as she gasped for air, watching Charlie panic as he seemingly racked his brain for any and every possible solution to fix it. All the while, Nick had stayed as still as a statue, grounded by the guilt in his chest that acted as an anchor. The only thing he could think of was how wrong all of this is, how unfair these Games are. But thinking that didn’t change the harsh reality, nor did it bring Juniper back.

After what feels like years of being frozen, Nick grips the base of the tree he’s leaning against and brings himself to a wobbly stand. He looks around for any sign of another person present before promptly bending over and throwing up the contents in his stomach. His throat is raw by the time he’s finished, fighting the tears that threaten to fall as he tries to regain an ounce of composure.

He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, glancing back towards Juniper and trying to form a course of action. Steadily, step by step, he manages to bring himself into the small clearing. As he approaches the small girl, he realises for the first time just how frail she looks. Even more, now that he’s only staring at the shell of what was once an innocent girl. Her hands hang at her sides, her neck bent in an unnatural way. He looks towards the path that both Charlie and the others ran and is about to continue forward when, out of nowhere, his mother’s words run across his mind. 

Don’t lose yourself in there, Nicholas.

The faint memory of her voice is like a slap in the face, causing his head to look back at Juniper’s body pinned to the tree. Sadness and empathy begin to swirl in his chest and, although he’s uncertain about everything right now, one thing is clear. He can’t leave her like this.

Silently, he walks back over to her and as his tears threaten to spill over, he makes haste to pull the spear from her stomach. Immediately, her body begins to crumple as it falls to the ground, but he catches her before she can land. Even dead, she’s practically weightless. However, the weight of the situation makes up for it, landing on his shoulders and threatening to make him fall to his knees. He pushes through, tossing the spear onto the ground before using both hands to pick her up and move her away from the base of the tree that’s stained crimson.

He carries her down a small pathway, her limbs swinging with each step, until he finds a proper area he can place her. Small mounds of cherry blossom leaves are scattered along the ground, the sun shining on both of them as he lays her down. He covers his hand with his sleeve before tenderly wiping the blood away from her lips, only noticing that he’s crying when a tear falls onto Juniper’s cheekbone. Regardless, he gingerly grabs her wrists and places her hands over the hole in her torso, positioning them so that it looks like she’s asleep instead of dead. 

As he comes to a stand, a soft breeze blows through, dried cherry blossom leaves twirling and dancing across her body. The sun peeks through the branches, scattered rays of light illuminating her in fractured segments against the contrast of the shadows. Nick’s lower lip quivers and he lowers his head, exhaling deeply. 

“I’m sorry, Juniper,” Nick whispers in remorse, his voice tinged with regret. “And I promise, I’ll take care of him.” 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with her but soon enough, he hears the sound of the incoming hovercraft in the distance. The chopping noise of the propellers grows louder, and Nick takes the opportunity to run off, the hovercraft covering the sound of the leaves and branches snapping under his feet. He looks back just in time to see the mechanical jaws drop down and close around Juniper’s body, picking her up and carrying her off. 

He stands there until the hovercraft is long gone before turning towards the direction in which Charlie and the others ran. He inhales deeply and buries his sadness deep in the back of his mind to save it for a rainy day if he ever gets the chance to see one again. As he begins to make the trek, his sadness morphs into anxiety at the thought of the Careers already catching up to Charlie.

If they had, there’d have been a cannon by now. Charlie’s fully capable of handling himself… 

Right?

Chapter Text

Nick’s efforts of searching for Charlie or the other Careers prove to be futile; the only signs of life are footprints in the dirt that he finds every so often. He’s been searching for Charlie like a drowning man gasping for air, his fear and desperation clawing at his chest with every passing minute. Every time he thinks he’s getting close, the trail runs cold. The only thing that brings him peace of mind is that he hasn’t heard any cannons to signal a death. 

As he continues his search, he notices that there’s a ledge near his right with a steep decline to lower ground. He steps near it, peeking over the edge and feeling a surge of panic at the thought of falling down. It’s not necessarily steep enough to kill someone unless they were unlucky, but it’ll definitely cause some damage if they were to fall. He retreats from the ledge and continues walking, keeping an eye out for a possible path that could give him easier access to the lower grounds.

After walking around for hours, both along the high and low grounds, he comes across a divot in the ground that leads to a small alcove. He decides to make camp there for the night, his stomach rumbling with hunger as he sits between two boulders. 

It doesn’t take him long to pass out from exhaustion, his hand still holding his knife tightly in his pocket. For the first time since entering the arena, he dreams: visions of dead bodies haunting every corner of his mind. It’s a restless sleep, to say the least, each dream making him want to wake up, but he subconsciously forces himself to endure it.

The following morning, Nick wakes up to the sound of rustling leaves in the distance coming from above him. His eyes open and within seconds, he’s crouched on his feet, knife in hand and ready to be used. His eyes dart around the alcove wildly, searching for a threat, but he finds nothing. The rustling stops and Nick lets himself naively think that it’s just the wind. He gathers his supplies before crawling out and continuing his journey to find Charlie. 

As he climbs up the incline of the hill and makes it to the plateau of trees above, he hears another burst of leaves rustling. His head automatically snaps to the right, his instincts and training humming through every fibre of his being; they feel as natural as breathing. He squints, his eyes analysing every stick and branch he sees, looking for a flash of metal or sliver of hair – anything that looks out of place. But he sees nothing and decides to continue north, using the early morning sun as his compass. As he walks, his mind idly thinks about yesterday, both Juniper's and Charlie’s faces appearing through the haze of memories. 

The fact that it could’ve been Sami or even Sahar in Juniper’s place is not lost on Nick. It only makes his hatred for the Capitol and the Games return, once again making a home within his chest. Juniper had a whole life ahead of her, but because the districts are forced to pay penance for their predecessor’s actions, she’ll never get to see it. The fact that Juniper will never get to experience completing school or moving away from home, or even just seeing her friends again, adds weight to Nick’s heart, making it hang even heavier than it was already. 

The thought of Juniper and her friends reminds him of all the times he’d snuck away with Sahar after training, just for them to lie out in the field. It reminds him of the last time he saw her, her cheeks stained with cheers and her eyes bloodshot from crying. He tries to focus on the happier memories: chasing each other around the town square, calling each other names after training days, hugging her one final time… But his mind fails him. All he can remember is the feeling of fear that was coursing through him at that moment.

Has she seen what I’ve done? He frowns, remembering how easily he’d thrown the knife at the District 8 tribute. How did my mum react? What about Sami? Am I still making them proud? Or am I slowly turning into David, losing myself in the process?

Nick’s thoughts are about to devour him entirely when they’re abruptly interrupted by the sound of branches whipping back and forth violently behind him. Nick stops and turns around, holding his knife up as his stance turns defensive. However, it’s not a person that he sees, but instead, trees crashing into each other rapidly from all angles. The ground beneath him begins to shake and his head slowly looks up as his knife lowers, watching the leaves of each tree morph together and instantaneously create a new one. The colours are changing as they morph, the pink darkening into a vibrant green while the red leaves begin to turn pink simultaneously. 

“What the?” Nick whispers, his brows pinching together in confusion before rising in an understanding of what's happening  – the trees are shifting their location, which means the Capitol is getting bored.

It also means Nick needs to run, and he needs to run now.

He looks around him, searching for an exit and instead sees that the trees are morphing together everywhere his eyes can see, creating a pocket of space that’s diminishing quickly. He notices to his left that the trees are spreading apart, a pathway becoming available, and he doesn’t waste a second, bolting forward towards the opening pathway. The whipping branches are roaring in his ears as he runs; his eyes stay glued to the ground in case the pathway changes. 

Fuckfuckfuck is the only thought running through his brain as he jumps over freshly uprooted trees and new holes appearing on the earth beneath him. The ground is shaking more violently, signalling that the moving trees are close to his heel. He doesn’t dare look back, instead using his arms to propel himself forward. He hears branches cracking in front of him as the pathway leads to an opening, and the small vision of light is all he needs to double his efforts. 

Just as he crosses the threshold, a tree root appears and Nick trips over it, which launches him forward. He manages to brace himself with one arm as he tumbles into the field, grunting as pain shoots up his shoulder. The ground is still shaking and he looks over to see the trees rushing towards him. He holds his breath, preparing for the undoubtedly painful death that’s mere feet away, but the trees come to an abrupt halt, stilling only a foot away from him.

He pants heavily, relief coursing through him. For a second, he smiles as he rests his back on the ground, huffing a quiet laugh as the adrenaline coursing through his body begins to slow. 

Maybe the odds are in my favour.

Nick comes to a stand, brushing off his cargo trousers before picking up his bag again and looking around him. The clashing trees had managed to lead him back to the Cornucopia, the golden horn structure still standing tall. He sighs, grabbing his knife and twirling it idly with his fingers as he makes his way closer. His eyes continuously scan the treelines, noticing that the sections have seemingly shifted to the right. The cherry blossoms are now the new north, the yellow birch forest the new south. 

Great, just another thing to fucking remember, he frowns. 

There’s a flash of silver that comes from his left, the sun glinting off the weapon as someone comes into view. Nick stops twirling his knife, coming to a halt, and his breath hitches as his eyes land on Charlie.

He’s alive! And holy shit, he’s so fast.

Nick stills and takes a couple of steps back, watching with awe as Charlie runs towards the centre of the Cornucopia. The bombs that were once buried underground – one for each podium they arrived on – are now dug up in the form of a circle around the edge of the Cornucopia, no doubt Harry’s doing. Charlie avoids them gracefully, hopping in a seemingly random pattern before jumping over one and landing on the other side of the bombs, rolling smoothly into a forward roll. The momentum carries him effortlessly back onto his feet. 

It’s not until Charlie’s made it to the structure that Nick sees Ben appear from the same direction Charlie did. His green eyes are full of fury, a murderous grimace on his face. It doesn’t take Nick very long to realise that’s why Charlie was running in the first place. 

Nick’s body jolts into action as he takes off with a sprint, his eyes darting between the string of bombs coming up in front of him. Within a few quick strides, he and Ben are neck and neck as they run across the minefield. Nick doesn’t get a chance to worry about how one wrong step can cause his death; He’s far more focused on reaching Ben first. Their eyes meet as they make it past all of the planted bombs and onto safe ground once more.  Nick sees a flicker of relief in Ben’s features, the other seeming to think that he had an ally with him. Ben goes to the right so he can enter from the opposite side of the Cornucopia, gesturing with his hand for Nick to go left.

Oh, I’ll go left alright, Nick’s jaw clenches, moving towards the entrance of the structure. Charlie, to his knowledge, is still inside the golden Cornucopia, officially trapped. As Nick rounds the corner, his eyes meet Ben’s. Ben shoots Nick a nod before getting ready to go inside but he doesn’t get the chance because Nick tackles him at full speed. 

They both land on the ground with heavy thuds, Ben gasping for air before shoving Nick off. “What the fuck?!” Ben screams, rolling over and coming to a stand. Nick stands too, panting heavily. “What are you doing?”

“Leave Charlie alone,” Nick warns between each breath. “Go back to Harry, or anywhere else in this arena for all I care. I’m not going to let you hurt him.”

Ben stares at Nick with disbelief before breaking out into a maniacal fit of laughter. “You’re joking,” he chuckles, pulling his shortsword from his sheath slowly. “As if you can stop me.”

Nick holds his knife up, squaring his shoulder as he narrows his eyes. “I’m not going to say it again.”

Ben tilts his head. “If you can’t kill him then, by all means, fuck right off. However, I can and will. Even if that means I have to kill you too.”

“If you’re going to kill me, you better do it with one hit,” Nick practically growls, stepping forward. 

Apparently, that’s all the invitation Ben needs. The boy charges forward with his sword raised. Nick quickly lets the bag he’s carrying on his shoulder slide down his arm, grasping the strap just in time as he feels the sword swipe across it. Nick lowers the bag and uses the butt of his knife to strike back. Ben sees it coming and his head turns, causing Nick to hit him in the jugular instead of his nose. Ben chokes loudly, stumbling back as he grabs at his throat. Nick doesn’t hesitate, raising his foot and kicking Ben square in the chest. 

Ben falls on his back, his sword falling onto the grass. Nick tosses the bag onto the ground before getting on top of Ben, readying his knife to swing. However, Ben takes the opportunity to punch Nick in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Nick groans and still tries to swing but Ben’s attack has thrown him off, and he misses the strike. Ben uses his other hand and grabs a fistful of Nick’s hair, pulling it harshly and yanking him to the side, causing Nick to drop his knife. Ben manages to climb on top of Nick and pulls a small knife of his own from his trousers, pressing the cold metal harshly against Nick’s throat. 

“You know, my mentor warned me about you,” Ben sneers, his hair dangling around his face as he leans closer. “‘He’s a Nelson,’ she said. ‘Don’t give him the chance to kill you.’ Yeah, maybe if I was in the Games with your brother. But you’re just another pathetic lap dog of District Two, aren’t you?” he asks, pressing the blade further into Nick’s skin. “No big brother here to save you now.”

Nick’s nostrils flare with anger and, just as Ben is about to kill him, shuffling can be heard from the entrance of the Cornucopia. Ben looks behind him and while he’s momentarily distracted, Nick grabs the forearm holding the knife and yanks it back. As he shoves Ben off him, Nick feels a knife drag along his pec, cutting him before Ben lands with a thud. Nick can feel his shirt instantly begin to soak with blood, but he ignores the burning sensation, instead getting back on top of the other. 

Rage runs through his veins, his heart beating frantically as he lands a blow against Ben’s jaw with his fist. His other hand joins the assault, and soon he's striking Ben with both fists, his knuckles aching sharply as bone collides with bone. There’s a loud crack as Nick punches Ben’s nose, blood beginning to splatter everywhere with each hit. 

Even though Nick holds all of the power and has the upper hand, to his astonishment, Ben still laughs. When he grins, a couple of his teeth are missing and the rest are tainted pink with blood. Nick pauses, panting heavily as he stares down with disbelief. Ben doesn’t even bother turning his head, looking up at Nick before he spits in his face.

“I… was wrong,” Ben says weakly, his voice raspy. “I guess there is a little bit of David in you after all. But just so you know, even if you kill me, you can’t keep him safe–”

“You talk too much,” Nick interrupts, gritting his teeth as both logic and humanity leave his mind simultaneously. 

Ben’s words only fuel the anger that was beginning to subside and with both hands, Nick grabs Ben’s neck. He can feel his fingernails dig into Ben’s skin as he squeezes his throat before repeatedly slamming Ben’s head into the ground. His thumb is pressed along Ben’s pulse point, allowing him to feel how quickly the boy’s heart is beating. His eyes roll towards the back of his head, his jaw slack and misshapen, and it only takes a couple more hits to Ben’s head before the sound of a cannon goes off. 

Nick stares with horror as Ben’s body stills underneath him, a permanently broken smile on his face. Nick watches in real time as Ben’s eyes begin to glaze over, his once vibrant green eyes now a murky hue. However, even though he’s in absolute dismay over what he’s just done, he’s unable to stop the satisfied smirk that begins to crawl across his lips. 

No wonder David killed so many tributes, a dark voice whispers in the back of his mind. As it continues to speak, he recognises it as David’s. Isn’t it so satisfying, Nick? Being able to shut them up whenever you please? 

Nick looks up and for a moment, he swears that he sees David standing in front of him. But it’s not the David he saw before coming to the Games, it’s the David he watched in the arena, dressed in similar clothing as Nick. David squats down in front of Nick, studying Ben’s features before smiling just like he did when he’d killed a tribute.

“I knew you had it in you,” David says proudly. Nick blinks in disbelief, looking back down at Ben and when he looks up, David is gone.

Nick’s chest begins to rise and fall rapidly and he goes to cover his mouth but freezes his movements after studying his bloodied knuckles. He’s never killed anyone before – let alone with his bare hands – and the more he tries to shake it off, the more he can feel traces of death lingering on his fingertips. His chest constricts as his breathing continues to grow erratic, and he has to fight off the panic attack that’s threatening to appear.

I killed him. I killed him with my bare hands. The thought begins to loop over and over as remorse and guilt wash over him. 

Don’t lose yourself in there, Nicholas, Sarah’s voice begins to overlap with his own and suddenly, Tara’s voice is chiming in too.

Don’t allow yourself to be pissed off the moment a tribute mentions David. If you’re emotional, even for a second, that could be your downfall.

All three voices begin to overlap in his head, his skull pounding as he stifles a sob. They won’t shut up, no matter how many times he shakes his head to get rid of them, and the only thing he can do at this very moment is lean his head back and scream. He sags back as he yells, his throat raw as the noise escapes him and he knows he’s giving himself away but he doesn’t care. He continues for as long as his body will let him until his voice falters and nothing but raspy breaths remain. 

It’s only once his screaming stops that he can hear footsteps approaching from behind him. He turns, expecting to see Charlie appearing from the Cornucopia, but is met with the sight of the boy from District 3 stalking towards him, Ben’s sword in hand.

Shit.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

Charlie flinches the moment the cannon booms, the soundwaves reverberating off the metal hood of the Cornucopia and into his bones. His grip on his bow is tight as he listens out for any more sounds or movement, but all he hears is heavy breathing. So, with a deep breath of his own, he peers round the edge of his hiding space to see Nick straddling a now lifeless and mangled Ben, staring down at his hands in fear, his chest heaving and eyes wide. 

Then, Nick screams. 

And Charlie’s heart breaks at the sound. 

He watches as Nick throws his head back, clenching his fists at his side, his face screwed up with anguish and pain. The gut-wrenching scream seems to use up the rest of Nick’s energy, causing his entire body to sag as his voice reaches its limit and fades into a broken sob. 

Feeling like he’s been staring for too long, Charlie forces himself to turn away and he begins to walk back to the trees. 

“You fucking killed him!” a voice suddenly shouts. 

Charlie whips his head around to see another tribute, Axel from District 3, storming towards Nick, sword in hand, poised and ready to strike. He watches as Nick slowly realises what’s about to happen, and weakly clambers off Ben’s body, aimlessly reaching for some kind of weapon to protect himself with. Axel reaches him first though, and uses a foot to kick at Nick’s chest. Nick falls to the ground, a loud thump quickly following. 

Charlie turns around, not being able to watch the scene before him anymore. His heart is thumping loudly against his chest, in his ears. For a moment, he is ready to leave them and run back into the forest, but a small voice in the back of his head tells him to stay. That’s when he hears Nick yell out in agony. 

Fuck, Charlie thinks as he squeezes his eyes. 

Another loud thump comes from behind him, and that’s all that it takes for Charlie to pull out an arrow from the quiver on his back and into the bow. He spins around and rushes forward to get a better view. 

Nick has somehow managed to push Axel off and get up off the ground. His body is exhausted as he staggers backwards, breathing heavily. Axel, on the other hand, is swinging his sword in front of him, a furious sneer on his lip. 

“I always knew you’d go soft,” Axel spits. 

Charlie watches as Axel shoves Nick back down to the ground, the sword high and glinting in the sun. And for the first time since Charlie’s met him, it seems like Nick is actually ready to give up.

Just as Axel is about to strike, Charlie feels his arms go up, and the metal weapon is cold against his cheek, but it’s like he’s no longer in his own body as the arrow is released and sinks into Axel’s neck. Axel’s body stutters as he begins to choke on blood and air. The sword falls onto the ground with a clatter as he staggers back. It’s quickly followed by Axel himself as he falls onto his knees, then collapses onto his back. 

Another cannon goes off.

There’s a moment where Charlie has to force himself to breathe as he takes in the sight of Axel’s crumpled body. In the corner of his eye, he sees Nick walk forward and look up in multiple directions until finally, their eyes meet as Charlie lowers his bow. 

Nick slowly begins to hobble towards Charlie, but before he can do anything, Charlie instinctively turns on his heels and begins to run. 

“Wait, stop!” Nick shouts after him. 

Charlie thinks about it for a millisecond but then remembers how Nick literally just killed Ben with his bare hands, so he keeps going. 

Charlie reaches the trees and jumps over a tree root without thinking. 

“Charlie!” Nick calls out. 

He slows down and looks around to see Nick struggling behind him, eventually leaning on a tree to regain some strength. Charlie fully stops now and arms his bow once again. 

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice surprisingly strong. 

Nick looks up with wide eyes and immediately puts his hands up in surrender. He winces when he takes a few steps forward. 

“What do you want?” Charlie repeats, pulling tighter on the arrow. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Nick says. 

Charlie scoffs. “Really?” 

They spend a few seconds staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. 

“Why did you save me?” Nick asks with a shaky voice. 

“Why did you save me?” Charlie counters.

Nick stays silent and lets out a sharp breath. That’s when Charlie peels his eyes away from Nick’s, and they land on the giant gashes on Nick’s chest and torso. Charlie lowers his bow with a slight gasp. 

“You’re hurt,” he points out lamely, gesturing to the wounds with his bow. 

Nick looks down and his hands immediately come to land on the cuts. “Oh shit,” he mumbles. He staggers back, eventually meeting a tree. He slowly pulls a hand away only to see it covered in a glistening dark red. “Shit.” 

Charlie slowly walks forward and Nick looks up at him, a panicked look on his face. 

Charlie freezes as he is momentarily transported back to the cherry blossom tree and sees Juniper’s body in front of him, but a soft chiming brings him back to the present. 

They both look up to see a small, silver parachute gliding down towards them, carrying  a metal container; something Charlie’s seen countless times before whilst watching the Games. Attached to it is a silver tub, and it lands in the branches slightly above Nick’s head.

Nick and Charlie share a look and nod, seemingly agreeing that they should take it. Charlie takes a step back and notices small but sturdy branches on the side of the tree. He places a hand on the highest one he can reach, testing it out for stability. It doesn’t move so he takes a breath and begins the short climb. He has to reach a little further than he’d like to, but the tips of his fingers catch the rope of the parachute, and he pulls it towards him. It slips out of the branches immediately, and Charlie tightens his grip on the precious cargo before jumping back down to the ground. 

He comes to stand in front of Nick and opens the container. There’s a small piece of cardboard on top of a smaller tub. Charlie picks it up and flips it over to read the message.

“Apply generously, T,” Charlie reads aloud and looks at Nick. 

Nick huffs out a weak laugh, closing his eyes. “Tara,” he whispers. 

Charlie unscrews the tub and sees some type of thick, almost transparent gel. “I think it’s for your cuts,” Charlie pieces together. “Sit down on the ground, it’ll be easier that way.” 

Nick does as he's told, wincing slightly as he slides down the tree, a hand bracing his body weight on the ground. 

Charlie gingerly kneels beside him, making sure to look around the area in case the other tributes make an appearance. He scoops up some of the gel with two fingers before putting down the tub. Charlie goes to touch Nick’s wounds, but realises that he doesn’t actually know where they begin and end thanks to the blood soaking Nick’s t-shirt. 

“Um…” Charlie swallows thickly and looks at Nick, who’s on the verge of exhaustion. “Can you lift your top up so I can…” 

Nick gives him a look with a slightly raised eyebrow, which causes Charlie’s face to heat up. 

“O-Or you could do it yourself, whatever works,” Charlie splutters. 

Nick sighs heavily before slowly using the arm of his uninjured side to lift up the blood-soaked part of his top to reveal two large cuts; one on his upper chest and one starting at the top of his ribs that finishes just above his belly button. Charlie’s eyes widen at the sight. “Let’s get it over with,” Nick mumbles weakly. 

Charlie swallows again and nods. He stalls for a second, looking around once more to make sure that they’ve got enough coverage from the trees around them before grabbing the parachute with a shaky hand. He uses the silky material to start wiping some of the blood from Nick’s skin, the other hissing in pain as the scratchy material passes over the open wounds. 

“Sorry,” Charlie whispers, and he goes to wipe some more but Nick suddenly grabs his wrist, halting his movements. 

“Wait,” Nick mumbles. Charlie watches, confused, as Nick begins to shrug his jacket off his good side. He scrunches up the material and lifts it to his mouth, biting down hard before letting his head rest against the tree again. 

Nick nods towards Charlie, allowing him to continue, which he does. He hears Nick slowly release a breath through his nose accompanied by muffled grunts of pain as he wipes. He gets as much as he can since some of it has already dried. So, Charlie tosses the now blood-red parachute to the side and goes back in with his gel-covered fingers. He starts with the cut on Nick’s torso, and he almost falters as he feels Nick’s ribs beneath his fingers. He lifts his hand in surprise, but quickly recovers, pretending that he had to go back for more gel. 

It did say generously after all.

Charlie continues applying the ointment down the wound, breathing heavily as he gets closer to the centre of Nick’s abdomen. That’s when he feels Nick's muscles contract and relax with every breath he takes. The heat returns to Charlie’s face, and he pulls his hand back again. 

He slowly lifts his eyes to see Nick already intensely looking at him, a curious glint in his eyes. It’s not a look of annoyance or disgust, but quite possibly, some form of… fondness?

Charlie blinks a few times and goes back to the gel to cover the other cut. He forces himself to not think too hard about the even harder muscle beneath his hands as he trails his fingers over Nick’s pec. 

“All done,” Charlie says softly. 

“Thanks,” Nick replies after pulling the jacket out of his mouth. 

Their eyes meet once again, and there’s an energy that seems to be flowing between them. Charlie isn’t sure what it is, but it’s weird and sends a shiver down his spine.

He breaks eye contact first as he tidies up the gel, stuffing it into his bag. “We should move further inland,” he says. “Do you think you can walk?” Charlie stands up and loops the bow around his back over the backpack. 

Nick clears his throat as he gently pulls his top back down. Silently, he pushes up with a painful grimace on his face, but immediately collapses back down to the ground. He sighs and looks up. He reaches up to grab onto a small knob on the tree trunk and somehow manages to pull himself up as he uses his legs to push up to a standing position. 

Charlie watches in awe as he sees Nick’s bicep flex and strain with the effort. His trance is broken by the sound of Nick’s grunts of effort as the other boy leans against the tree, breathing heavily. He takes a few seconds to regain some strength, before stepping forward towards Charlie. 

He immediately loses his footing and begins to stumble forward, but Charlie is quick to catch him, using his hands to support the uninjured side of Nick’s body. “Woah, okay,” Charlie mutters. 

Nick groans at the sudden impact and can’t help but lean onto Charlie. 

Charlie moves into a better position, taking Nick’s arm by his wrist and pulling it around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around Nick’s back. 

“Come on,” Charlie says softly. 

Nick inhales deeply as they slowly set off. Charlie leads them along a flat path of grass and gravel, taking it one step at a time, until he notices an opening leading to rocks with a small cave. 

“Let’s go in here, it has good cover,” Charlie tells Nick, whose breathing is considerably heavier than before.

They shuffle down a slight decline of rocky steps until the ground levels out. Charlie brings Nick over to the wall and gently removes his arm from his shoulders so he can guide him down. 

Because Nick is practically a dead weight at this point, Charlie has to use every single muscle in his body to try and lessen the impact when Nick hits the ground. 

Charlie moves away to take off his backpack, bow and quiver and places them on the other side of the cave. He quickly looks around to see if there is anything he can start a fire with, but comes up with nothing. 

“I’m going to try and find some wood for a fire,” he says without looking back at Nick. 

He’s met with silence. 

Nick’s lack of response causes a flash of panic to surge through Charlie’s body and he goes back over to him. Nick’s head is resting against the wall, eyes shut and body fully limp, but thankfully, his chest is still moving up and down. 

Charlie breathes out a sigh of relief as he takes in the boy before him. Without the intense stare like before, Charlie allows himself to look at Nick closely. Now that he’s unconscious, Charlie realises that Nick finally looks his age. He looks almost at peace, if it weren’t for the blood and bruises forming on his face. He looks almost… angelic.

Hang on, what?

Charlie shakes his head furiously.

“Wood. Fire… Let’s get wood,” he says to himself. 

***

Around ten minutes later, Charlie has managed to find branches and leaves for a small fire inside the cave, creating just enough heat to put out a gentle warmth but not too much smoke. Charlie looks around as the fire casts a soft orange glow around the cave, highlighting the golden hues of Nick’s hair and the freckles on his face and arms. Charlie sighs heavily and pulls his gaze away from the sleeping boy before him and adds some more branches to the fire, moving them into the centre with a longer stick he found.

His mind reels as he thinks about everything that has happened in the past couple of days. How he’s survived, how he’s killed two people, how he’s seen people die in the most horrific ways. He thinks about Juniper and how she should be beside him right now. He was hoping to have more time with her because the girl he got to know in the Capitol was such a sweetheart. She sometimes reminded Charlie of Olly, and he often wondered if they would have been friends in another life. 

Charlie hugs his knees tighter to his chest as his spinning thoughts pause on the conversation he and Darcy had a few hours before he left to go into the arena.

“My last piece of advice to you,” Darcy had begun, as she took a sip of her whisky, “is no matter what, you have to trust your instincts. Don’t overthink for a second because that will be your undoing. If your gut tells you to run, you run. Hide? You hide. Shoot? You shoot. It’s the only way out of that hellhole.”

Charlie frowned. “How do I… get over killing someone?” 

Darcy sighed and chuckled bitterly. “If I’m honest… you don’t.” 

Charlie’s heart dropped.

“In the arena, killing is often the only way out of there. Some people choose to hide, like me, but over the years I’ve learned that that’s pathetic entertainment, so you’ll not get very far. Most try to copy the Careers, eventually turning into someone unrecognisable. When I killed the tribute from District One, I felt that change in me. I was just lucky that it happened at the end. If I had gotten a taste of that adrenaline at the beginning, I probably wouldn’t be here. The tributes who like to kill get cocky. When they realise that they’re running out of time, they panic and make foolish mistakes.” Darcy leaned forward to stare into Charlie’s eyes. “Whatever you do, remember who you are, your humanity. Remember your brother, your sister, your friends. It’s the only way to survive life after winning.” 

“I probably won’t win,” Charlie scoffed and shook his head.

Darcy smirked in response. “That’s what I said.” 

Charlie is pulled out of his memory by the sound of Nick’s shoes scraping against the gravel. Charlie looks up to see Nick’s face scrunch in pain as he tries to move into a more comfortable position, accompanied by a soft grunt. Charlie pauses his movements with the fire, but somehow, Nick stays asleep. Charlie breathes out deeply and puts the firestick to the side. 

He looks around, and his eyes land on the backpack. Since it’s close to him, he just has to stretch over for his fingers to wrap around the strap. He opens it and sees there are only two small bread loaves left and a slight twinge of panic tugs at his stomach. 

He’s been so busy trying to not die, that he’s forgotten that he needs to find food. 

As if by some miracle, Charlie then hears a series of squeaks and sounds of tiny feet scurrying around the cave. He looks towards the opening to see a pair of squirrels heading towards a nearby tree. 

An idea appears in Charlie’s head, and he takes out the netting from the backpack, unravelling it on the ground next to him to see how much they have. It’s a generous amount considering the lack of food and water given, but with the idea that Charlie is trying to form in his head, he may need to go back to the Cornucopia in case there are more bags with netting. 

He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

He gathers up the remaining branches and twigs he got for the fire and lines them up against the edge of the netting. Once satisfied, he begins to tie the netting to the branches, sometimes using a bit of the rope he found in the bag just for extra security. Whether he’s making this to trap an animal or a human, the stronger it is, the better, as they will be able to reuse it a few times. 

He quickly gets into the rhythm of tying everything together, and his mind drifts back to Darcy’s words.

Trust your instincts. 

He looks back over to Nick and realises, everything in his body is telling him he should trust Nick despite him being a Career. Part of him even suggests that Nick’s Career status is actually why Charlie should trust him. 

He isn’t sure why. 

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick wakes with a start, sitting upwards and wincing immediately. His muscles are still extremely sore, his body feeling the weakest it's ever been. And yet, he doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much as he did earlier. He grabs the hem of his shirt inquisitively and pulls it up, checking what his wounds look like. Instead of seeing irritated skin and deep gashes, he notices that his skin looks perfectly normal, the wound almost completely scarred over. 

Nick sighs, blinking away the lingering sleep in his eyes as he studies the injury – or lack thereof – with bewilderment. A medicine that can heal like this is a rare find in the higher districts; it’s normally reserved for high ranking officials and military personnel only. To the lower districts, it’s obsolete. And yet, to the Capitol, they can purchase it without lifting a finger. 

Nick lowers the hem of his shirt and looks up to see Charlie’s staring at him cautiously, a small fire crackling in front of him. Between his hands are sticks and netting, no doubt materials he’s using to make a trap. He looks around them, noticing that they’re still in the cave. The knot between his shoulders loosens, and he manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Honestly, he’d thought he’d imagined everything that had happened. But with Charlie sitting in front of him, twiddling away with the trap materials, Nick feels like he can actually relax.

However, he finds himself facing a whole new challenge that he hadn’t thought of before. 

Now what?

The entire time Nick’s been in the arena, he’s been hell-bent on finding Charlie – why, he still doesn’t understand – and now that Charlie’s here, Nick’s at a loss for words. They’re still surrounded by danger, still inside the arena, and still no closer to winning. 

“Thank you,” he decides to say, lowering his head and studying his hands. “You didn’t… You could’ve just left me. But you didn’t.”

God, why am I struggling with talking right now? Nick quickly glances at the fire, not feeling ready to look Charlie in the eyes. He can see Charlie shrug in his peripheral vision.

“Well, it’s my fault you got hurt in the first place, so…” Nick can hear Charlie’s attempt at sounding indifferent, but his features betray him. His brows are pinched together – out of focus? Or despair? – as he finishes yet another knot before putting the trap down. 

Nick wants to tell him that’s not true, that he would’ve ended up killing Ben regardless, but instead, he just lets the air fall quiet. They both focus on the fire, each one looking at the entrance of the cave every time there’s a sound. Soon, the flames have withered down to sparkling embers, the bark of the branches now a white dust. It isn’t until the last light burns out that Nick finally speaks.

“Does this make us allies?” he asks, finally daring to meet Charlie’s gaze. His face is partially covered with shadows and the light of dusk from outside. It makes his blue eyes almost look luminescent as they stare back at Nick with disbelief. 

“Allies?” Charlie whispers, almost like he didn’t think that was even an option on the table. 

“Yeah. I mean, we did just save each other.” Nick shrugs, trying not to let his voice show the hope he’s feeling. 

“Does that mean we can trust each other, though?” Charlie asks, his voice still cautious.

Nick scoffs incredulously, actually feeling offended. “Did I not just prove that you can trust me? You definitely proved to me that I can trust you–”

“That’s not how this works,” Charlie interrupts, and in the settling darkness of the cave, Nick’s eyes can see more of Charlie as his eyes adjust. Charlie’s arms are crossed against his chest and he’s looking towards the cave entrance. 

“That’s exactly how this works,” Nick retorts. 

Charlie looks back at him and he narrows his eyes. “You killed Ben. Weren’t you two allies? Is that what’s in store for me if I agree?”

Nick feels as if he’s been slapped in the face and he falls quiet for a moment. Charlie seemingly senses the hurt, clearing his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispers. “That was rude… It’s just that…” He sighs in defeat. “You’re a Career, so of course it’s going to work like that for you. It’s not like that for the rest of us though. I mean, for all I know, this allyship is just a tactic. Something your mentor told you to use so that I’ll be easy to kill later.”

Nick lets Charlie’s words sink in, followed by the feeling of understanding when he realises where Charlie’s coming from. It is rather uncommon for higher districts to team up with the lower districts, sure, but it happens right? Tara partnered with the girl from District 12 in her games. Nick swore he’d seen it happen once before that too.

“You think I wanted this? You think that I chose this? Just because I’m some–” Nick stops mid-sentence as he realises he’s begun to raise his voice. “Some fucking lap dog?” he whispers before inhaling deeply and sagging against the cave wall. A sad smile spreads across his lips as he closes his eyes. “Well, I didn’t. I don’t. I never wanted any of this. But when has the Capitol ever cared about what the citizens of Panem want?” He can feel Charlie’s gaze burning a hole into his chest as Nick goes on with his treasonous speech, but he doesn’t care. The weight that he’s been carrying for the last eighteen years of his life is finally beginning to not feel so heavy. 

“Then what do you want?” Charlie asks, his voice soft and laced with genuine curiosity. Nick’s thankful that the cave is dark enough to hide the single tear that slips down his cheek but still bright enough that he can look Charlie in the eyes.

“Peace.”

Chapter Text

The minutes that pass by after Nick’s surprising burst of anger and confession go by slowly. Charlie isn’t sure what he should do; he’s finished the net trap already, but it still feels too awkward to start up a new conversation. Every so often, Charlie senses Nick’s gaze on him, but every time Charlie looks up, Nick’s eyes are looking at something else. 

Feeling even more restless, Charlie stands up and carefully gathers the net trap in his arms. 

Nick follows his every movement but says nothing. 

Charlie pauses at the opening of the cave, checking his surroundings for any signs of other tributes, but there seems to be nothing. He considers telling Nick where he’s going but thinks twice about it. If Nick hasn’t said anything, maybe that’s a sign he’s not interested in talking anymore. 

He’s only been walking for half a minute when he hears footsteps behind him. He spins round to see Nick cautiously making his way towards him, a hand supporting his wounded side – it’s probably still tender despite the healing gel.

“Just me,” Nick says softly, aware of Charlie’s hard stare. “Where are you going?” 

The question confuses Charlie, because why would Nick want to, or care to, know about his whereabouts? 

“I’m going to set this,” he slightly lifts the trap, “to try and catch something to eat.” 

Nick’s eyebrows go up slightly. “Sounds like a good idea,” he replies with a small, slightly nervous smile. “To be honest, I kind of forgot about that part of the Games.” 

Charlie can’t help but let out a small chuckle. “So you don’t know how to hunt?” he asks.

Nick blushes a little and shakes his head. 

Charlie sighs. “I guess I can show you how.”

“Really?” Nick perks up. “Thanks.”

They start walking again, with Charlie leading the way, and Charlie can’t help but think about how endearing Nick’s reaction was, quite similar to a puppy when it plays with its owner. Charlie has to bite his lip to hide a smile that is threatening to appear at the thought. 

They walk in silence for a few minutes, with Charlie constantly looking around for possible hunting grounds, finally finding one when they discover a small creek in between trees and flowers.

“Over here,” Charlie says to Nick quietly. “Usually animals like rabbits and squirrels appear around rivers and dense areas, so if this arena is anything like the real world, we should be able to catch something here.”

Charlie notices the look of awe on Nick’s face and instantly feels his cheeks warm, so he quickly turns away and begins to set up the trap. He lays out the net next to one of the trees, and links some of the thin rope from one end to the other, looping it in a way that when pulled, it will snap shut. 

Charlie carefully moves backwards, making sure to not trigger the trap, and finds a hiding spot behind another tree. He realises that Nick is still standing looking a bit confused. 

“Nick,” Charlie whispers. 

Nick snaps his eyes over to Charlie instantly. 

Charlie beckons him over and points to the spot next to him. Nick’s eyes widen as he realises what Charlie means, so he hurries over to  the hiding spot. 

“That was impressive,” Nick whispers into Charlie’s ear, his warm breath tickling the back of Charlie’s neck. 

“Thanks,” Charlie replies, trying to stifle the shudder his body involuntarily makes. “Now shut up.” 

The minutes slowly tick by as they wait for something to come to the water for a drink. The only sounds Charlie hears are the birds chirping above, the running water, the wind moving the trees and the occasional breath from Nick. He keeps his eyes focused on the trap, blinking whenever it becomes blurry. 

Finally, movement catches Charlie’s attention. A rabbit hops near the trap, and slowly makes its way forward towards the water, crossing over the start of the trap. Charlie pulls as hard as he can. The rabbit immediately squirms and tries to escape, but the trap works pretty well, so Charlie jumps up, pulling out a small knife as he does so. When he reaches the rabbit, Charlie doesn’t look at its face as he puts it out of its misery. He’s done this so many times back in his district that he doesn't have to think too hard about what to do.

Charlie wraps the rabbit in his jacket and puts it inside his backpack, quickly followed by the net. He stands up and looks back to see Nick leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face as he looks at the ground. 

“What?” Charlie asks as he makes his way back over to him. 

“You just… did that without thinking about it,” Nick mumbles. 

“I had to do it a lot back in Twelve,” Charlie explains with a shrug. 

Nick doesn’t reply, but he looks almost… sad. Charlie stares at him for a bit longer as he tries to figure out why. 

Then it clicks. 

“Oh my god, are you sad that I killed a rabbit?” Charlie asks with a soft laugh. 

Nick blushes instantly. “I… n-no… um…” he stutters. 

“So, Nicholas Nelson from District Two can kill children but can’t kill animals to survive,” Charlie states, waving his arms about as if to present the sentence. “That makes sense.” 

Nick merely rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” He pushes off the tree and stomps forward to head back to the cave. For a second, Charlie truly believes Nick is annoyed. But as he goes past, Charlie can see the corner of his mouth lift, and Charlie allows himself to relax. 

About halfway through their journey back, Nick stops suddenly, causing Charlie to walk right into him. 

“Hey, what–“

He’s cut off by Nick grabbing him by the arm and pulling him around a patch of trees and into what seems to be a small alcove within a hill. Charlie tries to pull away, but Nick keeps his grip tight and tugs him so hard that Charlie’s back crashes into Nick’s chest. 

Charlie lets out a grunt of exertion mixed with confusion, but it’s instantly muffled by Nick’s hand. Charlie tries to pry it off with his own, but Nick stops him with his other hand.

Charlie is now trapped, and Nick’s arms are completely wrapped around his body. 

“Shh,” Nick whispers into his ear. 

Charlie stops squirming and tries to calm his breathing, but it’s difficult due to feeling Nick’s body pressed against his. Alongside his heart thumping in his ears, he hears footsteps and the sound of a sword cutting through branches getting closer. 

“... actually cannot believe him,” a voice says. 

“I’m gonna kill that fucker,” another one chimes in. “I honestly don’t understand how he’s related to David.” 

As Charlie realises that Harry and Cassia are a mere few feet away, he feels Nick tense behind him, his grip tightening around Charlie’s wrist. The warm breath against Charlie’s neck quickens, deepening with each moment, as Nick struggles to contain his reaction. Without giving it a second thought, Charlie begins to gently rub the inside of Nick’s arm with his thumb, and Nick immediately relaxes. 

“By the time I’m done with him, his mum won’t be able to recognise him,” the voice continues, trailing off as they walk further away, oblivious to Nick and Charlie’s presence. 

A few seconds pass before Nick finally takes his hand away from Charlie’s mouth, letting it fall onto his chest. 

Suddenly aware of their position, with a blush threatening to creep onto his face, Charlie shoves Nick off and steps away, turning to face Nick with a scowl. 

“Did you really have to pull me that hard?” Charlie snaps. 

For a second, Nick looks almost upset, but it’s quickly overshadowed by annoyance. “Well, it was that or running into Harry and Cassia,” he bites back as he gestures to the opening. “I figured you’d choose manhandling over being murdered.”

Charlie sighs, his nostrils flared and hands in tight fists by his side. The pair stare at each other, neither one of them backing down from the unspoken disagreement they’ve found themselves in. 

“Ugh,” Charlie relents and shakes his head. “You’re so…” 

“What?” Nick challenges, raising an eyebrow.

Another beat of silence goes by, and Charlie can’t seem to think of a single word, so he just rolls his eyes and storms off, putting on the backpack properly.

“Wait, Charlie!” Nick hisses after him. 

Charlie ignores him, focusing on getting back to their camp as quickly as possible. 

“Charlie,” Nick repeats, a harsher tone to his voice, as he reaches their cave. 

“What do you want?!” Charlie snaps as he turns to face Nick. 

“Why are you so pissed off? I just saved your life!” Nick retorts with exasperation.

“You didn’t have to,” Charlie mutters, throwing the bag down next to the makeshift fire pit.

“Well, we’re allies, right? That’s what we’re supposed to do.” 

“Are we?” Charlie glares at him. “How do I know you’re not pretending? What if you’re buttering me up just to hand me over to your Career friends?”

“They’re not my friends,” Nick replies instantly, his voice low with anger. “You can trust me. We’ve saved each other three times already, for fuck’s sake. In my mind, that’s more than enough to put aside whatever differences we have and work together. Maybe there’s a shot of us being friends?”

“Friends?” Charlie laughs incredulously. “In the Games? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry for trying to feel normal,” Nick quips back sarcastically.

Charlie takes a step back, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He forces himself to inhale as Nick’s words sink in. There is nothing inherently normal about this life he’s been forced to live, but to some extent, Nick does have a point. If he’s to survive the games, he wants to keep his sanity to some degree. Back in 12, spending time with his family and friends was a big part of his life. It’s the thing that he’s grieved the most since he stepped onto the train. Not knowing if he’ll ever see Olly, Tori or Tao again. He tries to think of more people he misses, but much to his surprise, he comes up short.

Wow, I can only name three friends and two of them are family members. How sad.

“I’ve never had many friends,” Charlie finally mumbles, looking away from Nick’s intense gaze. Charlie decides to busy himself with the rabbit in the bag and kneels on the ground. “I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

He hears Nick sigh softly as he takes a seat next to Charlie. “Well, in my experience,” Nick begins quietly, “it helps when you get to know each other. Like, all I know about you is that you’re fast and good with a bow.” 

Charlie chuckles bitterly. “Just about sums me up.” 

“I disagree,” Nick counters.

Charlie rolls his eyes and says nothing as he begins to prepare the rabbit for cooking. 

“Charlie, the way this works is for us to tell each other things,” Nick urges. 

“Like what?” 

“Like…” Nick pauses for a moment. “Like your favourite colour, favourite smell… stuff about your family.” 

Charlie’s stomach twists at the third suggestion. He would love nothing more than to talk about Tori and Olly, but he knows that he’ll probably end up breaking down and that is something he doesn’t want Nick — or all of Panem, for that matter — to see.

He slowly looks up at Nick after a while, who’s now looking down at his fingers, a disheartened frown on his face. 

“Yellow,” Charlie finds himself saying quietly. 

Nick lifts his head, eyes wide with surprise. “Huh?” 

“Yellow is my favourite colour.” Charlie looks away again, both to escape Nick’s heavy and curious gaze, and to make sure he doesn’t cut off any fingers as he deals with the rabbit. “Like a dandelion yellow. Whenever I’d see them begin to bloom, it would remind me that winter was over and it’s getting warmer so each day would be a little more bearable. I don’t know, it sounds silly when I say it out loud.” He lets out an awkward chuckle, suddenly feeling Nick’s intense gaze.

“It’s not silly,” Nick replies immediately, his voice firm but sincere.

Charlie flicks his eyes up for a second, meeting Nick’s eyes. For a moment, time stands still. His face warms instantly, feeling very perceived by Nick all of a sudden, as if he’s staring right into Charlie’s soul and seeing him for the first time. He has to look away because it’s too much.

Charlie clears his throat and nods towards Nick before going back to the rabbit. “Your turn, then.”

“Right… Uh, I’d probably say blue,” Nick replies. “Not like the District Four shade of blue, but like…” He looks around the cave as if searching for the perfect description. After a few seconds, his eyes land on Charlie and the left side of his mouth lifts into a small, lopsided smile. “Well, like the colour of your eyes.” 

Charlie’s eyes grow wide and a short gasp escapes him. He feels his cheeks flush instantly, and his heart is erratically thumping against his chest. He licks his lips to try and combat his sudden dry mouth, and he notices that Nick’s eyes flick down to his lips as he does so. He watches as Nick’s eyes widen with the horror of realising what he’s just said and then Nick abruptly stands up. He clears his throat before grabbing his knife and putting it in his pocket. 

“I’m going to go get some branches for the fire,” Nick states curtly before ducking out of the alcove and disappearing.

Charlie tries to think of what to say, maybe to try and comfort Nick and tell him that it’s fine, but his mouth doesn’t work. So instead, he impales the rabbit’s corpse with a stick as he preps it to be cooked.

What the hell was that about?

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Why the fuck did I say that?! Nick panics internally, fidgeting with his knife as he walks away from the entrance of the cave. The farther away he is, the more he can breathe again. ‘Like the colour of your eyes.’ Jesus Christ, Nick. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes scanning the ground for stray branches or sticks along his path. He stays within running distance of the cave, trying hard not to focus on the anxiety that’s still coursing through him as he picks up a stick. Surely eyes are a normal thing people use to compare to colours, right? What else could I have used to describe that shade of blue, he attempts to reason with himself.

Oh, I don’t know, Nick. How about the shade of blue that paints the sky at dusk? Or maybe a perfectly ripe blueberry? Literally anything else but his fucking eyes! The logical side of his brain sneers. You’re supposed to be allies, yet here you are, quite literally flirting with the enemy.

“Am I flirting?” Nick blurts out loud to no one in particular as the thought crosses his mind, followed by a mild wave of anxiety at the realisation that he might have just said that out loud in front of all of Panem. Selfishly, he hopes that there’s something more interesting going on in the arena and that the cameras didn’t catch it. Just the idea of him flirting with someone, let alone Charlie , is blindsiding. He doesn’t need the added stress of Panem turning it into a big spectacle weighing on his shoulders. However, he reminds himself that right now is definitely not the time to be wrapped up in his own thoughts. He needs to be alert and cautious while out in the open – it wasn’t even three hours ago that Harry had been nearby. Nick fights the urge to groan in frustration, bending down to grab a couple of mangled sticks. 

I’m not flirting with Charlie , he tells himself as he walks back towards the cave. Why would I be? I don’t even think I know how to flirt with someone. Not to mention that Charlie’s a boy… and I’ve never really looked at anyone that way before, let alone a boy. 

Maybe, a soft voice chimes in, it’s because no one’s ever looked at you the way Charlie does.  

Nick stops in his tracks as if the thought is blocking his path. He feels his pulse quicken at the idea, but he quickly squashes that thought because of how ridiculous it sounds. He physically shakes his head this time, clearing any lingering feelings that try to make a home in his brain as he approaches the cave entrance again. 

Charlie looks up, offering a hint of a smile as he holds his arms out for the sticks that Nick gathered. Nick glances down, noticing Charlie’s red-stained fingertips and he shakes his head. 

“I can set up the fire, why don’t you rinse your hands off?” he offers. Charlie’s eyebrows shoot upwards and his eyes hold a look of uncertainty before he purses his lips together.

“Do you even know how to set up a fire properly? I don’t want to die from smoke inhalation.” 

Okay, sassy remarks I can handle , Nick thinks. At least it’s not an awkward silence. Maybe I was just overthinking the whole thing?

But then again, why did Charlie react the way he did? I swear I even saw him blush a bit…

“I’ll have you know, I did take a fire safety class,” Nick responds, “My trainer–”

“Okay, I didn’t ask for a monologue,” Charlie interrupts, though there’s a playfulness to his tone. “Just don’t burn this cave down, alright?”

“Can you even burn a cave down?” Nick tilts his head, earning himself a glare from the shorter boy. “I thought rock was fireproof.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Charlie sighs with slight annoyance.

Some time and one cooked rabbit later, Nick and Charlie are sitting side by side as they eat. Nick finds his gaze wandering towards Charlie every so often, noticing how delicately Charlie picks at his food. It’s fascinating to see how gentle he is with the meat, as if paying respect to the creature he killed with each bite. The air is silent, though it’s not necessarily uncomfortable, as they finish their food while the fire dwindles down. 

Nick isn’t sure why, but he feels the need to say something, anything, while they have the time. “You know,” he says softly, throwing the leftover bones from the meal into the fire, “for what it’s worth, I think what you did was extremely brave. Volunteering for your brother, I mean.”

He notices Charlie’s shoulders hunch, his hand stilling over the last bit of rabbit meat. There are several seconds of silence before Charlie finally replies. 

“Thanks,” he says in a neutral tone. 

Nick feels his neck burn with embarrassment as he realises that he had no right to bring Charlie’s younger brother up in the first place. He’s about to apologise when Charlie speaks again.

“You too… I guess,” he adds, before finishing his food.

God, this is going nowhere, Nick frowns inwardly. Maybe I’m bad at the whole friend thing too.

“What?” Charlie asks, interrupting Nick’s thoughts. Nick blinks a couple of times.

“What?” He mirrors Charlie’s words.

“You just said that you think you’re bad at making friends too,” Charlie tilts his head. Much to Nick’s surprise, Charlie’s eyes have a twinkle of understanding in them, almost as if he’s seeing Nick in a new light. 

“Oh,” Nick replies, glancing back down at the ground as his brows furrowed together. “Yeah, uh, let’s just ignore that.” He laughs nervously, instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

“I mean we can, but I know Panem won’t,” Charlie muses. Nick feels his face burn at the realisation that Charlie’s right and he groans quietly. He stiffens though as he feels the warmth of Charlie’s hand on his shoulder, his body feeling like an exposed live wire. “Hey, it’s fine. I guess we can just…” Charlie hesitates for a moment before he pulls his hand away, leaving Nick’s shoulder cold. “Be bad at making friends together. I mean, that’s what allies do, right? Stick together?”

Nick exhales slowly, a fuzzy feeling beginning to form in his stomach. He looks down at Charlie and nods. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

Charlie keeps his eyes on Nick as he tries to figure out what’s going on inside his brain. After the conversation they shared on the balcony, he was surprised to see someone from District 2 be so… not District 2-like, for lack of a better word. But now, even in the past couple of hours, Charlie is seeing someone entirely unexpected. His trust in Nick is still fragile, but it’s there somewhere. As he slowly learns more about him, he realises that Nick is still just a teenager, like Charlie himself. They’re both a pair of young men, stuck in a world where you volunteer to die so your loved ones survive. 

At that thought, Charlie’s stomach turns and he feels a bit sick all of a sudden. He takes a sip of water from the flask to try and wash away the uneasy feeling. He’s about to put it back down, but he hesitates and flicks his eyes back to Nick, who looks as dejected as Charlie feels. So, Charlie silently holds out the water. Nick’s eyes flicker towards the flask and then up to Charlie’s face, a look of soft surprise showing on Nick's face as he takes it. 

“Thanks,” Nick says after he sips, handing it back to Charlie and leaning back against the cave’s wall. He shuffles his legs forward and rests his arms on his knees, locking his fingers together.

Charlie merely shrugs, unsure of what to say as he rests his chin on his knee. “The boy you volunteered for must be really important to you,” he manages quietly, glancing over at his ally again. 

A wistful smile appears on Nick’s face as his eyes follow the floating embers of the diminishing fire. “Yeah. He’s like a little brother to me.”

Charlie watches as Nick’s face betrays him, showcasing a mixture of emotions; sadness, nostalgia and longing are all clear in his expression. “You can tell me about him if you want,” Charlie offers.

Nick takes a breath as if to ground himself before he speaks. “Sami is my best friend’s younger brother. I met his sister first, back in training when we were about six.” A small smile graces his lips. “Her name’s Sahar. Shortly after we met, Sami was born. However, she…” Nick’s smile faded as quickly as it came. He clears his throat and looks ahead, seemingly trying to avoid showing his emotions. His tight voice betrays him when he speaks again though. 

“Their mum passed away during Sami’s birth and to make matters worse, their dad died in a freak masonry accident eight years later,” Nick continues. “From that point on, they weren’t just my friends – they were my family. Sahar and I were always together, Sami attached at her hip. My mum was more than happy to take them under her wing, of course. So when I heard them call Sami’s name, followed by a Peacekeeper shoving Sahar to the ground, I intervened.” 

Charlie’s heart twinges with an ache and understanding as he listens. He empathises with Nick completely, as well as Sahar and Sami –  their upbringing is surprisingly similar. He never would have thought that the people in District 2 experienced loss the same way as the people in the lower districts. 

“They’re lucky to have you,” Charlie replies honestly, smiling sadly at Nick. Despite the horrific situation they’ve met in, Charlie can see how dedicated Nick is to his loved ones. “When you lose your parents, you rely on others a lot more than you anticipate.” 

Nick looks up, tilting his head in confusion. 

Charlie sighs. “Our parents died within two years of each other,” he explains. 

“Oh,” Nick whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Charlie shrugs. “Dad died almost five years ago, in a mining accident. That’s why I learned everything about hunting. I didn’t want me or my sister to put our names in more than we had to, so… Then Mum died a couple of years later. She got really sick and we couldn’t save her. Ever since then, Tori and I agreed to make Olly a priority. We had help from neighbours and friends, but we didn’t want to feel like a burden. So, when Olly’s name got called…” Charlie squeezes his eyes shut at the unwanted memory. “I remembered my promise to my parents and Tori.” 

“That must've been really hard,” Nick responds after a moment of silence. His tone is soft, his eyes full of vulnerability and attention.

“Yeah, well… It is what it is.” 

“It’s not right, is what it is,” Nick mutters. “We should be able to look after our families – to provide for them without risking our lives.”

This makes Charlie snort, which turns into a soft giggle. “It’s pretty insane, isn’t it?”

Much to Charlie’s surprise, Nick joins in on the laughter. “Yeah.” 

The reality of their surroundings makes itself known again in the form of Panem’s anthem echoing across the sky. The official announcement of the day’s fallen tributes is about to begin. 

Their laughter dies down instantly. 

Nick slowly stands up and sticks his head out of the cave just enough to watch the hologram. Charlie quickly follows and comes to stand next to him to see Panem’s symbol appear in the sky. A few seconds later Axel’s face and district number appear, quickly followed by Ben’s. 

Charlie’s stomach turns at the sight. For a split second, he sees his arrow piercing through Axel’s neck and Ben’s bloody face being smashed into the ground. It takes Charlie a few moments to furiously blink away the memory. He glances at Nick, expecting to see something that resembles sorrow or anguish. 

Instead, Nick’s brow is furrowed, his lips are in a thin straight line and his eyes only show anger. 

“We should get some sleep,” Nick mutters coldly, rocks crunching under his boot as he walks back into the cave. His shoulder brushes against Charlie’s, causing Charlie to take a step back to regain some balance.

Charlie feels like he’s been punched in the gut with the abrupt change in Nick’s demeanour. It’s almost as if the person he was getting to know, almost bonding with, has disappeared completely. 

He doesn’t like it.

***

The next morning, Charlie wakes to the sunlight streaming in through the cave entrance, followed by a dull ache in his back from his bed being an uneven surface on the ground. He sits up and rubs a hand over his face, last night’s conversations flooding back instantly. Learning more about Nick was… interesting, but also quite refreshing. It was surprisingly nice to exchange stories, even though they were sad ones. Charlie hasn’t experienced that part of a friendship in a long time. He suspects Nick feels the same way. 

Can he even call this a friendship though? It’s not like they’re going to walk out of here in a few weeks and go for a walk around the town centre to catch up. This isn’t normal. 

With a heavy sigh, Charlie pulls his hands away from his face only to open his eyes to see that he is alone. For a moment, a sudden panic rushes through his body as he looks over the space where Nick slept. His jacket is bundled up into a makeshift pillow, and it seems to have a dent in the middle, so he must’ve just gotten up. 

Charlie quickly scrambles to his feet and heads outside. His eyes quickly scan the nearby area, but there is no sign of Nick. He slowly takes a few steps forward, careful in case other tributes have somehow found them overnight. 

Then suddenly, something passes his face, barely missing his cheek, so quick that he can’t see what it is, followed by a thud. He snaps his head to the right to see a combat knife wedged into the trunk of a nearby tree.

His head whips around in the opposite direction to see a very panicked and wide-eyed Nick standing a few feet away, arm still outstretched. 

“What the fuck?” Charlie yelps in disbelief. “You almost hit me!” 

Charlie’s voice seems to pull Nick out of his state of shock, and he comes running forward. “I am so sorry!” he bursts. His hands come up, but then falter as they’re about to latch onto Charlie’s arms, and he pulls them back. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair anxiously. “I didn’t see you until after I threw it. I promise.” 

Charlie takes one look at Nick’s apologetic expression and shakes his head. He breathes out slowly, his body and heart relaxing. “That would’ve been the most embarrassing way to die,” he replies bluntly. “Oh, remember Charlie Spring? Yeah, no, he didn’t die a heroic death, his District Two ally accidentally threw a knife into his skull!” 

He glances sideways at Nick, hoping his face looks as annoyed as he feels, but thanks to Nick’s poor attempt at hiding a smile, his sour façade lifts almost immediately.

They break into a small fit of laughter, starting off with little snorts until they’re both wiping tears from their eyes. Once they manage to calm down, they share a look that sends a thrill down Charlie’s spine. Feeling the heat of Nick’s gaze, Charlie lets out a soft chuckle and looks down at the ground. He sees Nick’s feet pass by, and he can’t help but follow his movement to see him pull out the knife from the tree with ease. Despite the black t-shirt, Charlie swears he can see Nick’s back and shoulder muscles move with the action. 

Charlie feels a little bit breathless, but then Nick turns around, his index finger acting as an anchor as he flicks the knife back and forth around his hand.

As Charlie’s eyes watch the tip of the knife move, his chest tightens and his lungs begin to burn. It’s only then that he realises he’s forgotten to breathe. 

He pulls his eyes off Nick to look up at the trees, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Thankfully, it works and he feels relatively normal again, so he looks away from the trees and is surprised to see the same knife that almost hit him, right in front of his eyes being held up by Nick’s fingertips. 

“Um…” Charlie says, sending Nick a look of confusion.

“I, uh… want you to have this,” Nick starts with an awkward smile on his face. “Since I almost killed you with it, it’s only right.”

The bashful look on Nick’s face, along with the sentiment of Nick’s… gift, pulls something in Charlie’s heart, and he can’t help but smile back. He slowly takes the knife from Nick’s fingers and turns it over in his hands. “Thanks,” he replies. “But I’ve never been good with knives.” 

Nick’s smile gets bigger, as if happy about the fact that Charlie taken it. But then his brow furrows as Charlie’s words sink in. “Wait, you’ve never learned how to use a knife in combat?” 

Charlie shakes his head slowly. “No. I’ve always been comfortable at using a bow and arrow, so I’ve never needed the skill.” He looks back down at the knife as Juniper suddenly pops into his head and he smiles sadly. “Although, during training, Juniper did try to teach me. She was really good at it. I managed fine but somehow I was never accurate.” 

“Oh… Well, that’s okay. I can teach you… if you want?” he offers shyly. 

Charlie looks up to see a melancholic smile on Nick’s lips, paired with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” Charlie replies with a small nod. “Maybe I could show you how to use a bow and arrow?” 

Nick’s smile widens. “Sounds good.” 

***

Twenty minutes later, after a bland breakfast of dry bread, Charlie finds himself standing opposite Nick, combat knife in hand, feeling incredibly out of his comfort zone. 

“So, what you’re gonna do is put your knife in what’s called the reverse grip, so the blade is coming out the end of your hand, at your pinky. Like this,” Nick explains as he demonstrates.

Charlie moves the knife slowly, as if it could explode at any second, and puts it into the so-called reverse grip. 

“Great!” Nick’s face brightens once Charlie has done it correctly. “Now, in order to not stab yourself, whenever you draw it to attack, you have to keep it close to your chest.” 

“Okay,” Charlie mumbles, nodding with understanding. 

“Now try and attack me.” Nick beckons him with his hands and smiles encouragingly. 

“What?!” Charlie squeaks. “What if I hurt you?” 

Nick relaxes his stance and raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk appearing on his face. “You won’t,” he chuckles.

Charlie takes a deep breath and nods. “If you say so,” he mutters.

They both ready themselves again and, after a few seconds, Charlie steps forward, knife in front of his body just like Nick showed him. 

He barely gets anywhere though, because Nick’s arm comes up and his palm blocks Charlie’s attack immediately. Charlie has to take a few steps to rebalance after the unexpected obstacle. Nick quickly grabs his arms though, and he’s stable once again. The heat of Nick’s palms burns into Charlie’s skin even after Nick lets go. 

“And that is how you block someone,” Nick explains smugly.

Charlie huffs in response. “Come on, then,” he acquiesces. 

Another twenty minutes pass, and somehow, Charlie has picked up quite a few things. He and Nick have been running the same drills over and over to quicken his reflexes and reaction time, using different dodging and defence techniques in sequences to get used to the motion. He’s learned how to redirect an attack from different angles, how to punch with the knife still in his grip, all the way to fully disarming the attacker. He’s got a long way to go though – he’s still quite slow and he’s far from the movements feeling natural, but at least the knowledge is now there. 

Finally, after a particularly intense drill, with both Nick and Charlie breathing heavily, they come to a halt with their arms locked against each other. Their faces are so close Charlie can feel Nick’s breath against his lips and, if he allows himself to look for long enough, he can see the tiny flecks of different shades of brown in Nick’s eyes. 

If he wasn’t already struggling for air, he’s definitely struggling now. 

“That was, um… great,” Nick says softly, panting in between the words. His eyes roam around Charlie’s face quickly, as if struggling to decide what to look at. “You picked it up really quickly.” 

“I had a good teacher,” Charlie replies with a small smile. Charlie’s eyes involuntarily flicker to Nick’s lips for a second before meeting his eyes. He isn’t sure if Nick notices, but there’s a fire of something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. 

After a moment of silence, Nick takes a small step back and readies his stance. “Alright… Again.” he huffs, waving his arm. 

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick has completely lost track of time as they continue to practise different manoeuvres. He’s so busy picking his brain apart, trying to remember everything he learned from training, that he doesn’t even notice the sun is in the early stages of setting until Charlie points it out. He almost feels guilty that they’ve wasted the day training instead of looking for other tributes – specifically, the other Careers – but reminds himself that this is for Charlie’s benefit. 

This can help improve Charlie’s chances of survival. Plus, it’s good for my muscle memory to kick in.

He proceeds to teach Charlie a couple more ways to block an attack, as well as a few different counterstrikes. At some point, Charlie’s face turns completely red with exhaustion, but his eyes are still full of fierce determination as he continues practising each new skill that Nick shows him. However, he can see the physical toll it begins to take on Charlie’s body; the shorter boy is panting heavily, his attacks weakening with each strike. 

He finally decides to call it when Charlie nearly spins himself around as he swipes the knife. “Hey, let’s take a water break, yeah?”

Charlie nods, moving backwards and sitting down on a nearby rock. There’s a thin veil of sweat along his forehead, his curls frizzing from the heat his body is exuding. Nick grabs the flask, noticing its lightweight as he picks it up. “Shit,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together. He gives it a shake, hearing light sloshing, and sighs as he opens it. Instead of taking a drink though, he extends his arm to Charlie.

“What?” Charlie rasps in confusion, his eyes full of confusion.

“Drink up,” Nick shrugs. Charlie hesitates for a moment, looking utterly confused as to why Nick didn’t just drink it. If Nick’s being fully honest with himself, he isn’t sure why either. 

Charlie’s thirst must outweigh his confusion though because he takes the flask with an appreciative nod. Nick watches as Charlie tilts his head back while drinking, his eyes focused on how Charlie’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down with each sip. 

What the fuck? Stop staring, Nick, he scolds himself, forcing himself to look at their surroundings instead. 

Charlie lets out a gasp, his eyes closing in relief as he lowers the flask. “Thanks,” he breathes before licking the stray water droplets off his lips. Nick’s lips press in a thin line, the closest he can bring himself to a smile, and grabs the empty bottle.

“I’m going to go fill this up. If you want, you can try and scrounge up some sticks for tonight’s fire. When we regroup, we can go over our rations,” Nick offers, though he winces at the demandingness of his tone. 

I sound like a drill sergeant, not an ally. Charlie is my equal, not my subordinate, he reminds himself. 

He notices Charlie’s features harden and whatever softness they’d had earlier is gone now. “You think I’m going to just do what you tell me because you’re a Career?” 

Nick sighs with frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that, Char–” He’s interrupted as Charlie marches toward him, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw. He pokes Nick’s chest with his finger. 

“If we’re going to be allies, don’t bark orders at me and expect me to follow them. I’m not some fucking animal that needs to be trained and then fetches sticks for you afterwards,” Charlie snaps, his voice low but firm. His eyes bore into Nick’s, challenging, daring him to push back. “So while you get the water, I’m going to hunt for some rabbits or birds.”

They’re close now, nearly chest to chest, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Charlie’s jaw is set, his body taut like a bowstring, ready to fire. Nick can feel the frustration radiating off him, sharp and palpable. He feels his annoyance rising in response, an instinct to push back against the challenge flaring hot in his veins.

But he tamps it down. This isn’t the time or place. Besides, he admires Charlie’s fire, even if it’s aimed at him right now. Not to mention, he still needs to earn Charlie’s trust. Letting out a breath, Nick nods, keeping his tone deliberately calm and neutral. 

“Sounds good to me,” he says, shrugging slightly as if the tension between them doesn’t make the air feel heavy.

Charlie’s posture softens just a fraction at Nick’s response, the sharp edges of his defensiveness dulling. His shoulders drop slightly, and the intense glare in his eyes eases, though his gaze lingers on Nick for a moment longer, as if assessing him. Without another word, Charlie steps back, breaking the standoff and turning toward the edge of the forest, his movements purposeful.

As they part ways, Nick hears leaves rustle to his left. He stills, turning and looking along the trees before glancing back at Charlie. He wants to stop the other, to suggest they don’t split up, but Charlie’s already gone. Nick feels his body deflate and ignores the urge to chase after the younger boy. Instead, he pushes himself forward and follows the faint dirt trail that leads to a small source of water. 

What’s wrong with me? Nick asks himself as he squats down and dunks the flask into the water. Why am I feeling so protective over Charlie? Surely it’s because we’re allies, right? Yeah, that makes sense, he reasons with himself. That must be why.

Just as Nick manages to calm his mind, he hears shouting in the distance, the voice sending a chill down his spine as he recognises its owner immediately.

“Hey, Twelve!” Harry’s voice echoes from the way Nick came.

Fuck!

“No,” Nick breathes, the word barely a whisper as it escapes him. His grip falters, almost dropping the flask in his haste. “Charlie!” Panic coils in his chest like a living thing as he yells, and before he fully registers the thought, his legs are moving.

He bolts back towards the forest, his strides fuelled by adrenaline and dread. The flask bounces against his hip as he secures it, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife at his side. As he runs, the forest begins to feel denser than before, each shadow a potential threat, each sound magnified in his heightened state. But none of that matters, all that matters is getting there in time.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

After storming off, Charlie angrily looks around the forest, keeping an eye out for any kind of animal that would make a good meal. Annoyingly, after only a few minutes of searching, it becomes clear that he’s going to return to Nick empty-handed. He groans quietly to himself and spins on his heel as he begins to head back towards their camp. He uses the handle of his bow to flip the weapon around in circles as he stomps through a small clearing. The fire he felt earlier during his… ‘disagreement’ with Nick is still simmering deep inside his chest. He’s not quite sure why he got so pissed off, but at the same time, he’s sort of proud of himself for standing up to Nick. A few months ago, he wouldn't have even thought about doing something like that. 

Suddenly, a rush of sound quickly approaches Charlie, and his head snaps up to see Harry, Pearl and Cassia appear from a tuft of thick trees. Their swords and knives are swinging at their sides, and despite the slight distance, Charlie sees evil grins slowly spread across their faces. 

Charlie stops walking instantly, the shock causing him to drop his bow. 

“Hey, Twelve!” Harry shouts, twirling his knife between his fingers. “Where’s your guard dog?”

“Bet you he finally realised how pathetic he is,” Cassia laughs. 

Pearl lets out a snort but says nothing as she admires her knife. 

Charlie takes a deep breath and tries to take his own knife from his pocket, but Harry somehow catches it. 

“Oh, look,” he guffaws. “Seems like Nelson has tried to teach him a few things.” He takes a step forward, Pearl and Cassia following. “Probably doesn’t know how to use it properly.”

“Oh yeah?” Charlie replies, somehow finding his voice. “Try me.” He lifts the knife higher.

“My pleasure, you little fucker,” Harry mutters. 

Charlie takes a step back, trying to find better balance like he learned earlier, flipping the knife into the reverse hold. Harry charges forward, a yell slowly coming from his mouth. Charlie braces for some kind of impact, but it never comes. 

Instead, Harry is tackled to the ground by Nick, who immediately grabs a fistful of Harry’s t-shirt, using the leverage to push his enemy onto the ground. In a sudden, instinctual move that perhaps only a Career in the arena could ever hope to pull off, Nick takes full advantage of the split second his surprise attack gives him to kneel on Harry’s thighs, with every ounce of his weight.

Harry looks up bitterly, assessing their new positions. “I see the knight in shining armour has arrived,” Harry spits at Nick, as he tries and fails to push Nick off him. 

“I fucking knew you would choose this weakling,” Cassia yells as she begins to run towards Charlie. Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie sees Pearl go for Nick, so he looks between Cassia, his bow on the ground and Nick, and quickly estimates the distance between them all. Once he looks back at Cassia, who is considerably closer now, his body decides for him. He takes hold of his knife by the blade and with all of his might, chucks it forward. 

Miraculously, it sinks into Cassia’s left thigh. She cries out and stumbles forward, using her hand to break her fall to the ground. She looks up, teeth bared and pure rage in her eyes as she tries to push herself up. Charlie throws himself on the ground, rolling to the right and picking up his bow as he does so. He pulls an arrow out of the quiver on his back as he kneels upright, one leg out to balance himself. He readies his bow and, without any hesitation – in a move that's as natural as breathing – skilfully releases it in Pearl’s direction, who is only a few steps away from Nick now. 

The arrow sinks into Pearl’s side, causing her to falter and look down. Her face is full of shock and disbelief. She slowly looks up at Charlie, a hand coming up to clutch at her side as she staggers forward, wincing as she tries to lift her sword. 

Charlie breathes in and out slowly as he draws another arrow, aiming at Pearl’s chest this time.

“Fucking do it, I dare you!” Cassia shouts from the ground. 

Charlie turns to look down at her, his stare cold as her heart as he releases the arrow. 

He watches as Cassia’s sneer turns into horror as her eyes follow the arrow’s path. It’s like time goes by in slow motion as the arrow pierces Pearl’s chest, and then Pearl’s face falls as she slumps to the floor. 

“No!” Cassia screams, which is followed by the sound of the cannon confirming Pearl’s death. She uses her axe to push herself up to stand on her good leg, her free hand gripping her thigh which is now dark red with blood oozing out of the wound. 

Charlie raises his bow once more, arrow ready and poised to fly, causing Cassia to turn and limp back towards the trees they came from. He breathes a sigh of relief, which is quickly cut short as he hears a series of loud grunts and yells from his left. He turns to see Harry on top of Nick, hands wrapped around Nick’s throat, with Nick kicking up his legs in an attempt to push himself free. 

Charlie aims at Harry, but realises that because of the constant moving, he can’t get a clear shot. He takes a few steps forward, but it doesn’t help at all. He’s suddenly frozen in his spot, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t want to risk hitting Nick. 

He knows he’s an excellent shot, so why is he finding this so difficult?

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick hears the cannon sound echo overhead just as Harry pins him to the ground, his hands wrapped around Nick’s throat. Nick grits his teeth, his legs thrashing wildly as he feels Harry’s fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his skin. He hears the sound of a body falling next to them, followed by the burst of footsteps dashing across the way. In his peripheral vision, he can see a small wisp of Cassia’s hair in the wind as she disappears.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Harry smiles wickedly, squeezing even harder. “I’m gonna make the light leave your eyes while your little friend watches. Then? We’re gonna kill him nice and slow. Really give the Capitol a show.”

The mention of Charlie and Harry’s plans for him ignites a fire in Nick’s chest. Whether said fire is determination or lack of airflow to his lungs though, Nick couldn’t say.

He manages to sneak his leg under Harry’s, wrapping it around securely before using the full force of his weight to roll them over. Harry lands with a groan and Nick uses his thighs to pin Harry down. He grips the neckline of the other tribute’s shirt, jerking it back so hard that Harry’s head moves with it. Nick throws a punch, followed by another, his knuckles immediately throbbing with satisfaction. Harry doesn’t cry out in pain though, instead having the audacity to smile back. In a way, it reminds Nick of Ben, which only adds to his anger.

“As long as I’m alive, you will never harm him,” Nick growls, going to throw another punch.

“You hit like a bitch,” Harry sneers, using the moment to his advantage. With a sharp jolt of his hips, he forces Nick off balance. Nick lets out a startled yelp as he’s thrown forward, landing awkwardly. Harry wastes no time, scrambling back on top and slamming a fist into Nick’s throat with brutal precision.

Nick chokes, a guttural sound tearing from his throat, his airway feeling like it’s collapsing. The edges of his vision blur as he instinctively clutches at his neck, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Disoriented and reeling, he rolls onto his hands and knees, trying to regain his composure.

Before he can, a sharp pain rips through his scalp. Harry’s hand tangles in his hair viciously, yanking it back with a brutal force that sends white-hot agony down Nick’s spine. His neck arches involuntarily, the motion exposing his throat just as the chilling sensation of cold steel presses against his skin. The blade is sharp and unyielding, and Nick’s pulse pounds against it, as though his body is daring the knife to cut deeper.

Nick freezes, his heart thumping so hard it feels like it might burst through his ribcage. His mind races, calculating his options. Every nerve in his body screams at him to act, but one wrong move could be his last.

“Hey, arsehole!” Charlie’s sharp voice cuts through the tension, drawing both Nick's and Harry’s attention. Nick barely has time to register the sound before his eyes snap upward, locking onto Charlie. He’s standing above them, bow drawn taut, the arrow aimed squarely at Harry’s head.

Harry doesn’t flinch. Instead, his grip on Nick’s hair tightens painfully, yanking him upright as a shield. Nick winces, his scalp burning as he’s forced to his feet. The blade presses harder against his throat, sharp enough to sting, and Harry’s lips curl into a mocking smirk.

“Do it. I’ll slit his throat before your arrow even leaves the bow,” Harry replies to Charlie, though his eyes stay locked with Nick’s. “Ask your lapdog here, he knows what I’m capable of.” He leans in closer, his breath hot and taunting against Nick’s ear. “This poor kid has no idea what you and I have been trained to do, does he?” 

Nick’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring as he fights against the rising anger and fear. He glances at Charlie, expecting to see panic etched across his face – similar to the look he had when Juniper died. 

But Charlie doesn’t look scared. Not this time. His expression is unreadable, calm to the point of indifference. The absence of fear is unsettling. “If it’s any consolation,” Charlie says evenly, his tone almost casual, “your lapdog ran off.” 

Nick feels Harry’s hand twitch in his hair, the subtle shift of uncertainty creeping into his captor’s movements as Harry’s gaze darts around. The faintest flicker of fear crosses his face, and Nick knows Charlie’s words have hit their mark.

But the relief is short-lived. Harry’s focus snaps back to Charlie, and the knife vanishes from Nick’s throat. Time seems to slow as Harry’s arm moves, and in one horrifying instant, Nick realises what’s happening. He watches in helpless terror as Harry hurls the blade directly at Charlie.

“No!” Nick shouts. He feels tears prick the back of his eyes because all he can do is watch. 

Thankfully, Charlie twists out of the knife’s path, narrowly dodging it. But in doing so, his bow slips from his grip, clattering to the ground. Panic flares in Nick’s chest as he spins back to face Harry, intent on attacking, but Harry strikes first.

Something hard slams into the side of Nick’s temple, sending a sharp, blinding pain through his skull. The impact knocks the wind out of him, and he stumbles to the ground with a groan. His hand instinctively flies to his face, his fingers coming away slick with warm, fresh blood.

Dazed, Nick glances down and spots a jagged rock lying nearby, its sharp edge smeared crimson. His pulse pounds in his ears as Harry’s taunting voice cuts through the haze. However, even though his tone is harsh and threatening, Nick notices that for the first time, there’s a slight hesitation in his movements. The confidence that was once present in his posture is gone, and in a flash it dawns on Nick what Harry must have already clocked –  that he’s outnumbered and weaponless. That this is a fight he couldn’t win alone.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that, lapdog!” Harry sneers viciously, although he’s already retreating. Before Nick can react, Harry disappears into the thick brush, leaving only rustling leaves and Nick’s searing pain in his wake.

Nick struggles to his feet, wobbling; his vision swirls chaotically as his ears ring loudly. His breath comes in shallow gasps, the pounding in his head nearly overwhelming him. Gritting his teeth, he gives his head a firm shake, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, the spinning world around him steadies, and the relentless blur fades into clarity. His eyes flicker around, landing on Pearl’s dead body before his eyes lock with Charlie’s. They rush over to each other instantly, both of them assessing the other for the extent of their respective damage. 

And then, something happens that Nick never expected. 

Charlie’s hands cup either side of Nick’s face, the younger boy pulling him closer so that he can see Nick’s head wound. Nick watches Charlie’s mouth move but fails to register what the other is saying, his mind way too focused on how soft Charlie’s skin feels compared to the stubble along his jaw. The warmth of his fingers seeping into the coolness of Nick’s cheeks, the way his eyes are full of concern and worry… It’s a feeling so foreign and yet so similar, it's almost like a taste of home. 

Nick’s entire body is stiff as he watches Charlie, feeling the threat of tears forming as Charlie keeps speaking, though he still can’t hear a word. The fresh memories crash over him like waves – Harry’s knife at his throat, the crushing panic, and the complete certainty that this was the end. He thought Charlie was going to die. Worse, he thought they both were. But against all odds, they didn’t. They survived. 

And now, here they are, barely inches apart. It’s almost too much for Nick to handle. The relief, the fear, the intensity of everything they’ve just been through surges to the surface, threatening to spill over as his gaze locks onto Charlie’s.

He’s alive. They’re both alive. And the sheer magnitude of that fact presses down on Nick like a weight he doesn’t know how to bear.

Why is my body reacting like this? What’s making my heart feel so light, yet so heavy at the same time? And why do I want to close the distance between us right now?

“Nick?” Charlie’s voice snaps him out of his internal spiral. Nick blinks, staring blankly at him.

“W-What?” Nick finally asks, his voice raspy as his throat burns with rawness. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks slowly, repeating his question. Nick blinks a couple more times before nodding. He opens his mouth to say something, when the sound of a cannon going off echoes through the air. 

“We gotta go,” Nick says softly. Charlie nods, bending over to grab his bow and arrow. Nick pulls the knife that Harry threw out of the tree, his entire body covered in goosebumps. Together, they make their way back to their camp. Both boys are on high alert the entire walk before they stumble along the cave they slept in the night before. 

Nick enters first, knife held close to his chest. He checks every nook and cranny for any sign of life, relief washing over him at the sight of their supplies still perfectly intact. He grabs the bags before coming back out, handing one to Charlie.

“I don’t think we’ll be having a fire tonight. And we need to find a new spot quickly. They’ll be back, I know it. I’d rather it not be while we’re asleep.” 

“I agree,” Charlie says with a nod, his tone thoughtful. “I think we should stick to the lower ground. Sure, it puts us at a disadvantage strategically, but I have a feeling Harry’s expecting us to stay up high.”

Nick hesitates, biting his lower lip as he considers Charlie’s reasoning. After a moment, he nods. “Alright. I’ll follow your lead.”

A flicker of relief and something warmer crosses Charlie’s face, and he smiles, the expression lighting up his features. “Great! Let’s head towards the birch trees. If I remember right, there’s a pond over there. Who knows, we might even catch some fish.”

***

As the sun sets, Nick and Charlie settle along beneath a cluster of uprooted birch trees. The trees’ gnarled, oversized knots weave together to form a natural, makeshift shelter – like a small wooden cave. Moss has grown thickly over the roots and floor, creating a surprisingly soft and inviting cushion against the harsh ground. It offers them a rare sense of comfort, a brief sanctuary from the chaos surrounding them. Charlie hadn’t been able to find any rabbits, and they didn’t want to light a fire now they are somewhat in the open, so they settle for finishing off the small sack of food they have left. 

As Nick finishes his bread and Charlie eats an apple slice, the sound of Panem’s anthem plays across the sky. Both boys look up, watching as the fallen tributes appear. To Nick’s surprise, the last person he expects to see is the second face on screen.

Cassia.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Nick and Charlie walk in silence, neither of them seeming to know what to say. Nick’s still processing the fact that Cassia died, and when he sneaks glances at Charlie, he notices the younger boy doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s idly twirling an arrow between his fingers, his brows pinched together as he focuses on the ground. His jaw is clenched tightly, his shoulders hunched over, and Nick feels the urge to try and console him but… what could he possibly do or say that would make anything better? 

“Hey,” Nick says softly after what felt like eons of silence. “You… doing alright?” he finally manages to force the words out. Charlie’s eyes meet his, the surprise in them evident. Of course he’s not alright, you fucking idiot. You’re both in the middle of the arena and have almost died a handful of times now.  

“I mean…” Charlie shrugs before casually ducking under a low hanging branch, “No? But I fear that’s a given,” he adds, his lips quirking up at the corners. Nick’s lips form a hint of a smile as he nods.

“Yeah, fair enough,” he sighs, glancing upwards. They’re no longer in the birch forest, instead now surrounded by tall pine trees. “It’s odd the trees haven’t moved yet,” he thinks out loud. 

“What? Oh, right,” Charlie looks around them as they come to a stop. “Maybe there’s been enough action to keep the gamemakers busy,” he suggests. 

“Maybe,” Nick thinks it over. However, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s going to happen soon. “It didn’t feel like an event though, and I don’t think we’ve had one of those yet.”

“That’s true,” Charlie frowns. “When do those normally happen?” 

Nick stares at him for a moment before realising that Charlie probably never watched the Games the way Nick did growing up. Every day during the games, the trainers would make his entire class watch the clips from the night before, both to study the moves of the tributes as well as to cheer their district on. 

I wonder what Charlie’s life was like growing up. If his days weren’t full of training, what did he do in his spare time? Hang out with friends? Visit the town square? Spend time with his family?

He clears his throat. “Er, I’m not sure. It depends on the Games, I guess. Sometimes they’d happen a few days in, other times they’d occur after the first week. I think they only do an event when things get boring.”

Charlie hums softly in agreement and they continue to walk. After a few moments of quiet, Charlie speaks again. 

“What about you?” he asks. Nick’s brows furrow together as he looks at Charlie.

“Huh?” 

“Are you doing okay? I mean, I know you two weren’t allies but… You were from the same district.” 

Oh. Right. Nick’s lips twist into a frown and it's his turn to duck under a low hanging branch. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I never really liked her, both here and back at home. That being said, I don’t think she deserved to die.” 

A flash of guilt washes over Charlie’s face and he looks back at the ground. He begins to twirl the arrow in his fingers again, almost as if it were a nervous tick. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Nick shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s theirs,” he murmurs, glaring up at the sky shrouded by pine needles. “We do what we have to do to survive.” 

Charlie doesn’t respond to that, so Nick doesn’t continue. Instead, they carry on passing the trees. After a while, they decide to change direction and turn right, following a rough path that wound further through the forest. Nick tries to focus on the trail ahead, but Charlie twirling his arrow between his fingers catches Nick’s attention, distracting him. Charlie’s hand movements are elegant and swift, as if he’s been familiar with the physics of arrows for years. 

Maybe he grew up with them, Nick’s brain offers. A small smile graces Nick’s lips at the image of a young Charlie holding a bow steady for the first time. I bet he was probably scared in the beginning if that’s the case. I know I was terrified the first time a knife was placed in my hands.

“Wait,” Charlie says, holding his hand out. Nick’s fingers immediately reach for the knife in his pocket. “Do you hear that?”

Nick’s ears strain as they tune in, listening for any sound that doesn’t belong. However, all he can hear are the leaves bristling through the wind, followed by the sound of birds flying overhead. 

“No?” 

Charlie’s response is a finger in the air as he takes a cautious step forward, placing his arrow in his quiver. He slowly bends down, blindly feeling for a rock as he stares ahead. Standing again, he holds his bow up and places the rock along the string. He pulls it back slowly, his eyes narrowed as he squints. The bow turns with his body as he follows an invisible line. 

Part of Nick wants to ask Charlie what he’s doing, but the other part is far too distracted by studying Charlie’s stance to say anything. He can’t refrain from tracing the curve of Charlie’s spine with keen eyes as the younger boy leans back, aiming towards a small part of the sky that isn’t blocked by branches. When Charlie releases the rock, Nick’s gifted with the perfect view of his sharp jawline, the other’s lips parted slightly as he focuses on the flying pebble. 

However, Nick’s trance is disrupted as he hears a weird vibration echo loudly. His head snaps to the side, focusing on where the noise came from, and seeing the rock spark against an invisible wall. The air ripples in front of them, the sky glitching from the impact.

“What the…” Nick’s voice trails off in confusion as he looks back at Charlie. Charlie’s eyes are twinkling with pride when they meet his.

“Force field,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Jesus Christ, he’s smart about technology too? Nick’s heart skips a couple beats at the thought, followed by his stomach flipping. Is there anything he can’t do?

“How the hell did you notice that?” Nick asks, unable to hide the awe in his voice. He notices Charlie’s face turn a soft shade of pink. 

Is he blushing?

“My dad was from District Three,” he replies quietly. “He was, like, super smart when it came to anything involving technology. I remember how when we watched the Games together, he would always point out the forcefield. Our screen was crap so I never understood how he did it, if I’m being honest. But he said that if I ever found myself stuck in the Games, that I needed to listen for a soft humming noise and search for anything that looked warped or disfigured. I don’t think he ever thought I’d actually need that advice, but here I am.”

“I bet he’d be proud,” Nick says softly, feeling his face warm because he’d almost followed that sentence with ‘I know I am’. 

Shit… am I blushing now?

Charlie tilts his head curiously, his eyes searching Nick’s face for… something. The look in Charlie’s eyes is soft yet secretive, and Nick has no idea what to do with that information. He bites his lip, realising he’s probably crossed a line, but he says nothing because he meant it. 

“Thanks,” Charlie finally responds. “We should probably move inland a bit more. I’d hate to see the poor soul that runs into this.”

Nick nods in agreement, readjusting the backpack on his shoulder and gripping the strap tightly. As they walk, Nick continues to sneak occasional glances at his ally. However, to his surprise, there’s a couple of times that he catches Charlie looking at him. Nick’s breath hitches every time their eyes meet, his stomach feeling as if he swallowed a storm of butterflies. 

Why is my body reacting like this?

Nick pushes the thought away as they stumble upon the start of a narrow creek, its crystal-clear water trickling over smooth stones and weaving through the forest floor. Deciding to follow its winding path, the gentle sound of running water guides their way until Charlie halts, surveying the area with a thoughtful look.

“We should set some traps,” he suggests, his voice low but decisive. Nick nods and watches as Charlie quickly gathers materials to construct small snares. His hands work with practised efficiency, tying loops and adjusting tension with precision. Once the traps are ready, Charlie hands two to Nick and keeps two for himself.

As they set each trap, Charlie takes the time to explain his choices. He crouches low near a cluster of dense roots. “This spot’s good because of the tracks,” he points out, indicating faint, scattered prints in the soft earth. “You can tell squirrels pass through here regularly.”

Nick listens closely, drawn in by the way Charlie seems so attuned to the forest, his focus intense yet effortless. There’s something captivating about the way Charlie observes the world around him; Nick finds himself leaning in just a little closer, eager to learn more. The air between them hums with an unspoken rhythm as they work, and Nick feels his chest tighten with a growing admiration he can’t quite name yet.

At another spot, Charlie gestures towards a low-hanging branch draped with foliage, securing a trap at its base with quick, efficient hands. “This is another good one,” he explains, glancing at Nick with a small, almost boyish smile. “They like to climb down for food and water. Setting it here gives us a better chance.”

Nick follows Charlie’s lead, his mind focused on each action, but also on Charlie – how his hands move, and how his voice sounds when he speaks with such certainty. As they place the remaining traps, Nick feels a warmth blooming in his chest, one that feels familiar and yet new. The quiet teamwork between them flows as smoothly as the creek babbling nearby. 

They move on to the next spot, walking side by side. Nick notices how Charlie’s steps are careful and deliberate, his attention constantly shifting between the surroundings and Nick, as if he’s making sure they’re safe. It’s a small thing, but it makes Nick’s chest tighten all the same.

As they reach some bushes more inland, Nick notices small patches of grass scattered along the ground. Charlie’s points to a specific patch that seems worse for wear. 

“Look,” he says, crouching down. “You can tell something’s been foraging. We’ll hopefully catch something here.”

Nick kneels beside him, close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating off Charlie’s body. Their shoulders almost touch, and for a second, Nick forgets to breathe. He nods, barely processing Charlie’s words, more focused on the soft curve of his smile and the way his hands move with such confidence.

When Charlie stands again, brushing his hands on his trousers, Nick takes an extra second to compose himself before following suit. As they move back towards the creek, Nick can’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something between them is changing. Part of him wonders if Charlie feels it too – the fleeting sense of peace, of something more than just surviving.

“Well,” Charlie sighs as they arrive at the creek, interrupting Nick’s train of thought. “Those traps are going to take a while to catch something, if we’re lucky. I guess for now, we can take turns rinsing ourselves off in the creek? The other can keep watch.” 

“Right,” Nick nods. “You go first, I’ll be the lookout.”

Charlie hesitates for a moment before slowly handing Nick his bow and quiver. “I’ll be just a moment,” he says, almost as if he’s reassuring his bow and arrow more than Nick. 

After they’ve both cleaned up and are no longer covered in dirt and dried blood, they find a log to perch on and decide to take a short break. The only thing that fills the air between them is the sound of the running creek water but for once, it’s not a tense silence. It’s actually quite comfortable, much to Nick’s surprise. Charlie is holding an arrow in his hand, absentmindedly fidgeting with the fletching while his eyes are closed. Nick decides to watch the running water of the creek, desperately attempting to look anywhere but at Charlie. 

“Nick,” Charlie murmurs softly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah?” Nick asks, raising an eyebrow, stealing a glance at the other.

“I’m sorry for being short with you yesterday. You didn’t have to show me how to use a knife, but you did. And then I turned around and threw that training lesson back in your face, all because you were trying to tell me what to do.” Charlie’s eyes flutter open, full of raw sincerity. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Stop apologising,” Nick replies, offering him a sad smile. “I was being an utter prick by bossing you around. I would’ve been upset with myself too. You’re my ally, not my trainee.”

Charlie’s lips quirk at that, but he doesn’t respond. 

Nick isn’t sure how much time passes, but the sun is now hanging in the middle of the sky. His stomach is grumbling and by the way Charlie’s arm is wrapped around his own stomach, he can see they’re both in the same boat. He comes to a stand and clears his throat, wiping the dirt from the back of his trousers. 

“How about we check the traps, yeah? Surely something must be caught by now,” he suggests. Charlie perks up at the mention of possible food and he nods. 

“Sounds good to me. I’ll check the two by the creek if you want to check the two we set by the bushes?” Charlie offers and Nick nods in agreement. 

It doesn’t take him long to find the faint trail that they followed towards the bushes earlier. He lets his eyes scan across the patches of grass until they land on the first trap. His mouth parts with excitement as he sees a small rabbit laying in the grass.

He approaches the trap slowly so as not to startle the trapped creature, but he quickly realises that the rabbit isn’t moving. On closer inspection he notices that it’s not breathing either and its neck is nothing short of mangled. Nick tilts his head in confusion as he picks the rabbit up, the creature’s head lolling to the side.

I didn’t know these were lethal traps, Nick frowns internally. I thought Charlie had to kill them afterwards?

He reaches into his pocket and grabs his knife, cutting the sticks open and pulling the dead animal out of it. As he moves to stand up, he hears a twig snap behind him.

“Nick!” he hears Charlie shout, the other’s voice full of fear. It causes goosebumps to rise along his flesh and he turns around just in time to feel the tip of a sword press against his cheek. His eyes meet wild brown ones that belong to District 7’s female tribute, Ivy Woodrow. 

“Hey there, Nick,” she grins wickedly, her eyes flickering towards the rabbit in Nick’s hand. “I see you found the gift I left you.”

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

As Charlie returns to the bushes empty-handed, the sound of branches rustling ahead causes him to look up to a sight he never expected to see. 

Ivy Woodrow is slowly walking over Nick, slowly lifting her sword, ready to strike. 

“Nick!” he shouts immediately, alerting Nick just in time. Unfortunately, it’s not quick enough though, because Ivy’s sword is suddenly near Nick’s head and he’s trapped in place. Charlie grips his bow tighter as he begins to run towards them.

“Nick!” Charlie shouts again, willing himself to sprint faster as Ivy angles the tip of the sword dangerously close to Nick’s eye. Charlie halts in his tracks, only a few feet away from them and Ivy snaps her gaze to him, as if to warn him to stay back. “Ivy, don’t,” he urges, holding a hand up cautiously.

Charlie feels his heart drop into his stomach as she lets out an incredulous laugh in response, her face still full of hatred. “Are you crazy? We all know that he’s going to kill you just like Cassia killed my brother.” Her eyes flick back to Nick, her lips forming a smirk. “Don’t worry, though. Silas managed to snap her neck before taking his final breath… Fascinating how easily Careers can break, considering how tough they’re supposed to be. I suppose it’s only fair that I get to eliminate the rest of District Two. I wonder…” Her voice trails off before she tilts her head as she looks quizzically at Nick. “How easily will you break, hm? Cassia didn’t get a chance to scream but I’m not going to be so quick with you.” She takes a step forward, causing the sword to inch up a little. Nick takes a breath as his head twitches against his will, which causes Ivy to laugh. “Careful, we wouldn’t want you to lose that pretty little eye of yours, would we?”

“Ivy, I promise you can trust him,” Charlie practically pleads.

“What makes you so sure?” Ivy spits back, her grin falling. With ease, she uses her free hand to pull out another sword from her backpack, and points it at Charlie. “In fact, how can I be sure that I can trust you?”

“What?” Charlie whispers, his brows pinching together, “Ivy, we’re–”

“‘Allies’?” Ivy asks in a mocking tone. “Really? I didn’t know that allies mingled with the enemy. Not to mention this is the first time I’ve seen you since we entered this god forsaken place.”

“He’s not the enemy,” Charlie shakes his head, “Nick killed Ben, one of the other Careers. I saw it happen right in front of me,” he explains rapidly. 

Even though she’s not moving that much, her entire body seems to freeze. Her eyes flick back and forth between Nick and Charlie, her face turning red with emotion. “So you think that because he killed one of his own, that makes him a good guy? Someone you can trust?” A tear falls down her mud-covered face, leaving a clean streak in its wake. 

Charlie’s voice catches in his throat because deep down, he knows she’s right. Charlie was in her shoes not too long ago, but Nick had since proven his loyalty on several occasions. Whereas Ivy doesn’t have that luxury.

Nick’s voice breaks the silence, causing both Ivy and Charlie to look at him. Charlie feels his heart begin to ache at the look of remorse on Nick’s face. “I’m sorry about your brother,” he says carefully, slowly lifting his free hand out, as if to surrender. “And I can never replace what Cassia took from you, Ivy, but Charlie is telling the truth. I’m not with the Careers. I don’t think I ever really was to begin with.” 

Time passes at an excruciatingly slow pace as Charlie watches Ivy process Nick’s words. The atmosphere surrounding them is charged with tense anticipation, the air so deafeningly quiet that he fears Ivy can hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. It feels as though the world around them has stopped, as if the animals in the forest are also waiting to see what happens next.

Finally, Ivy takes a deep breath and slowly lowers the sword from Nick’s face. Nick and Charlie both seem to release a sigh of relief. She swiftly puts the sword back into her bag, her stare unwavering, and the three of them are left in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Are you hungry?” Charlie blurts out suddenly, and finds himself pointing towards the rabbit in Nick’s hand. 

Ivy raises a suspicious eyebrow, but after a few moments, her face softens. “I could eat,” she replies quietly. 

Charlie smiles at her and nods once. He then looks at Nick, noticing the relief evident on his ally’s face. They share a small smile, though Nick’s doesn’t meet his eyes, before Charlie declares, “Come on, this way.” 

As Ivy begins to walk, Charlie feels Nick’s fingers wrap around his wrist, which forces him to stop. Their eyes meet and Nick’s face is evidently full of concern.

“I don’t trust her,” Nick whispers softly, his eyes looking back at Ivy. Charlie glances her way, noticing Ivy is studying the sky. He twists his lips together in hesitation before looking back at him. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” Charlie asks. Nick’s brows furrow as they both focus on Ivy again.

“She’s not you, Charlie,” Nick murmurs. “She almost killed me.”

Charlie can’t help the smile that graces his lips. “I almost killed you once,” he points out. “I could’ve shot you with my bow, but I didn’t,” he points out. Nick doesn’t seem impressed with this reasoning, but Charlie continues nonetheless. “Let’s just hear her out and be glad we have someone else with us.”

Nick still seems cautious but silently nods. He’s about to say something when Ivy interrupts them.

“Are we going to eat or are you two going to keep flirting?” Ivy asks dryly, though she’s still looking ahead. Both Charlie and Nick practically jump out of their skin at her words, and it’s not until then that Charlie realises Nick’s hand is still holding his wrist, though it’s somehow found its way closer to Charlie’s palm. 

His fingers are warm and a lot softer than Charlie expected as they rest along his pulsepoint. Nick quickly looks down at their hands and immediately pulls his away, clearing his throat as he does so. 

Unable to stand the awkward air that’s beginning to thicken with tension between him and Nick, Charlie decides to take the lead and guide Ivy back towards where they’ve set up a miniature camp. He takes the rabbit from Nick, making quick work of skinning and gutting it. He looks around for a stick to place the creature on when, to his surprise, Ivy offers one of her swords.

“I’ve found this helps cook the meat quicker,” Ivy says, holding the spear out towards Charlie. “Y’know… metal and all.”

Charlie nods, grabbing it before stabbing the spear through the rabbit’s centre. He realises he hasn’t started the fire yet though, so he hands the skewered meat back to Ivy. He digs a small hole in the ground before remembering the Rebel Fire technique that Ivy had shown him back in the training centre. He digs the two holes, just like she taught him, before connecting them under the dirt. 

As he lights the fire in the smaller hole, he hears Ivy hum in approval. 

“I see you remembered the Rebel’s Fire,” she says, sounding impressed. 

“I learned from the best,” Charlie offers a smile, reaching for the spear. Ivy hands it to him before sitting down on the ground. In his peripheral vision, Charlie can see Nick slowly pacing – whether it’s because he’s keeping lookout, or keeping his distance from Ivy, Charlie’s not sure. 

“I’m sorry about the girl,” Ivy murmurs after a moment of silence. “Juniper, I mean.”

“Thanks,” Charlie replies sadly. “I’m sorry about Silas.”

Ivy stares at the rabbit solemnly, clearly remembering the moment he died. She’s silent for so long that Charlie believes the conversation to be over, but then Ivy speaks up. 

“We’d been walking most of the day, so we found a space to camp for the night. We  were pretty lucky to not have come across any other tributes since the bloodbath, so when Cassia stumbled through the trees, we were pretty shocked… even more so when we realised that she was injured and running from something.”

“That would’ve been me,” Charlie mumbles, mostly to himself, but Ivy still hears and raises an eyebrow. 

“Silas immediately grabbed his spear, ready to fight,” she continues. “I tried to stop him, but he wanted to take advantage of her weakened state. He was stupid enough to get close, using his words to taunt her instead of using his weapon. He’s always been a talker, and I’ve always warned him that it could be his downfall. I hate that I was right.” She pauses as she reaches for the spear and hands it to Charlie so he can position it over the fire. 

“I don’t know what he said to her,” she sighs, her voice tight with emotion, “but it was enough to fuel her anger. Next thing I know, she pulls out the knife stuck in her thigh and stabs him with it a few times. It happened so quickly that, for the first time in my life, I had no idea how I could help him.” She sniffles, wiping a stray tear away as quickly as it appeared. She clears her throat, taking a moment to compose herself. 

Charlie has to fight the urge to put a hand on her shoulder, instead opting to slowly rotate the spear. 

“Before I knew it, they’d fallen to the ground with Cassia hovering over Silas, knife still in his chest. He said something else to her before he used the last of his strength to shove her off, snapping her neck in the process.

“When I got to him, he could barely breathe. I tried everything to stop the bleeding, but he’d lost too much already. As soon as I looked into his eyes… Well, we both knew. The last thing he said to me was, ‘ I’ll see you soon ’.”

Charlie just stares at her, remorse gnawing away at his gut because, even if he didn’t know that it would happen, he threw that knife into Cassia’s thigh. It was his knife that killed Silas. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

Ivy shrugs. “That’s the Games. We fight and we die,” she sighs. “Last night was… the first time I’ve ever spent a night alone. Silas was always with me, even though I’m the older twin. He’s always tried to protect me… So the fact that I couldn’t–” She squeezes her eyes shut. 

Charlie isn’t sure what else he can say, so he flicks his eyes back to the rabbit as he slowly turns it over once more. Then he looks over at Nick and sees the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his lips pulled into a thin line. His eyes are glassy as he crouches down near the fire – the closest he’s been to Ivy since her sword was pressed against his face.

“You don’t have to be alone now,” he says sincerely, looking up for the first time since Ivy started to speak. 

Ivy lifts her head, a few tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, evidently surprised at Nick’s words. “T-Thanks,” is all she says. 

Charlie watches Nick nod once, as if to fully cement the newfound trust he has for Ivy, with all suspicion towards the other tribute now apparently gone. Charlie doesn’t understand why, but his heart swells with something close to appreciation as he watches the two. 

It’s nice to see that even in the Games, humanity can still be found. Especially coming from a supposed ‘Career’.

So that he has something to do, Charlie begins to pull apart the now fully cooked rabbit meat, holding the first steaming-hot leg out to Ivy. She takes it with a nod of appreciation, biting into it immediately despite it being fresh off the fire. Charlie then hands another bit over to Nick, who mirrors Ivy’s response and sits down on the ground properly. 

Charlie pulls his share from the spear before managing to keep it off the ground by balancing it across his bag. The three eat in silence, the only sounds being their chewing and smacking of lips. 

Ivy finishes first and throws the bone into the diminishing fire and sighs. Charlie studies her closely as he takes his final few bites. She pulls out her own silver flask and uses a small amount of water to rinse away the juices from her hands and mouth. As she dries her chin with the back of her hand, she looks up and her face goes pale. 

“Have either of you come across vultures before or is this a new thing the Gamemakers are trying out?” she asks quietly.

Charlie looks up to see two large vultures circling them above. “This would be the first time,” he replies as he drops the leg bone onto the ground. He makes sure his body is completely still, as if the tiniest move could trigger them to attack. He squints his eyes as he notices how big each bird is. “Are they getting closer?” 

“I think so,” Nick mumbles. 

After a few more seconds of staring, a third bird comes into view. It’s considerably closer than the other two, and as it swoops and turns above them, its features are now a lot clearer to see – it’s just like something out of a nightmare. Its beak is massive and strong. The wingspan is practically double the length of its body, with the contrast of gentle feathers tapering off the edges. Every time it passes them, it appears to look down as if it’s forming some type of plan, sizing Charlie, Nick and Ivy up. 

“Maybe we should start moving,” Nick suggests. 

Charlie and Ivy silently agree and slowly pick up all their bags and weapons as Nick keeps an eye on the birds above. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud thud a few feet away and everyone’s head snaps in the direction to see a fourth vulture, and it’s staring directly at Charlie.

Charlie’s chest tightens as the black steely eyes stare into his soul.

“Guys, what do I do?” Charlie whispers with minimal movement of his lips.

“Maybe it wants the rest of the rabbit?” Ivy replies in a similar way. 

Charlie slowly reaches down with his free hand and pulls the remaining legs of the animal off the spear. He throws it over the fire, and it lands in front of the bird. But the vulture’s eyes never waiver. 

“Could this be an arena event?” Charlie thinks out loud. 

Just as he asks that, more birds appear behind the first one, their wings creating slight gusts of wind as they land. 

“I think you might be right,” Nick replies.

A few seconds pass, during which neither the trio nor the six vultures move.

But then suddenly, the first bird lets out the most horrific noise: a shrill screech with a rhythmic clattering sound, very similar to gunfire. It begins to flap its wings, which is apparently a signal to the rest of them to stalk forward. 

“Run!” Nick says, the sound of his panic increasing the volume of his voice. “Go!”

Without another word, the group takes off and ends up forming a single file with Ivy in the front. Every so often, she has to use her sword to cut down stray branches that get in their way. Charlie can hear the haunting sound come from the vultures above, but he doesn’t look up to see how close they are. Instead, he just propels himself forward, quickly overtaking Ivy and Nick. He jumps and ducks to avoid roots that seem to appear out of nowhere. Normally, running like this wouldn’t be an issue for him. However, with the lack of food and proper rest that he’s experienced over the last several days, it feels as if his body is actively fighting against his need to survive. His lungs and legs are burning, screaming at him to stop, but he forces himself to keep going. 

That is, until he hears a shout of desperation and fear from behind him. 

“ Charlie! Charlie, help!” Nick cries out. At the sound of Nick’s distressed voice, he twists around and comes to a stop, his feet digging into the forest floor. 

The first thing he notices is how much distance he’s made in the past few minutes. The second is that Nick and Ivy have come to a standstill, their swords and spears swinging in the air as they fight off the nightmare birds – the Capitol mutts. Every few seconds, the sounds of talons clashing against metal can be heard, followed by a shrill squawk as the creatures fall to the ground.

Charlie quickly draws an arrow and manages to hit one of the vultures that was about to attack Nick’s side, allowing the other boy to take down another bird coming from above. Charlie moves closer, readying two arrows at once and is able to shoot down two more that were hovering over Ivy. Charlie keeps on shooting with precision, his anxiety increasing as his amount of arrows decreases, but eventually, the final one goes down. 

Charlie’s chest is heaving as he slowly lowers his arms. He watches as Nick and Ivy do the same, with Nick leaning forward, hands on his knees to catch his breath. Charlie begins to rush forward, and sees the hundreds of cuts and scratches on Nick and Ivy’s limbs and faces. Nick stands up and faces Charlie, his face full of worry and exhaustion, but also relief.

Just as Charlie opens his mouth to ask if they’re okay, he sees Nick’s expression quickly morph into horror. “Charlie, watch out!” 

Charlie stops and spins round just in time to see another vulture fly straight towards him, beak open, wings spread out and talons poised at the ready. Charlie gasps and holds up his bow, bracing for impact. Not even a second later, the creature takes hold of the bow, the force of the bird causing him to fall onto his back. The wind is knocked out of him, but he tries to stay focused. He uses all of his strength to push against the strength of the mutt; its wings are flapping violently, creating a loud hum around his head. He cries out with effort as he tries to kick it off, but it’s no use.

Suddenly, a loud warcry comes from behind and the vulture is ripped from Charlie, who somehow manages to keep hold of his bow. Charlie looks to see Ivy writhing on the ground, the vulture attacking with double the amount of ferocity compared to before. Ivy is constantly swinging her sword, yelling as she hits the vulture’s wings and face. There’s a moment where the preying bird lifts off, and for a second, it appears that the fight is over. However, it readjusts its position on Ivy’s body and begins to attack her face. Its sharp beak instantly rips into her skin, causing her to scream out in agony as blood splatters along the ground.

Charlie scrambles to his feet just as Nick pulls him up by his arm. Charlie immediately goes to run towards Ivy, but Nick tugs him back instantly.

“Charlie, no! We can’t save her!” he shouts over the screaming. His voice is thick with emotion but firm. “We need to go.”

Charlie whips his head around to argue, but the fear in Nick’s eyes makes him hesitate for a second. “B-But she saved you!” Charlie replies, his voice wavering with tears. “We have–”

“She can’t be saved,” Nick interrupts fiercely, bringing a hand up to firmly hold the back of Charlie’s neck, really looking at him. “But we have to go or else we’ll be next. Do you want your family to see you die like this?”

Charlie shakes his head instantly, and Nick responds with a determined nod and begins to stagger in the opposite direction, pulling Charlie along with him. Charlie takes one last look back at Ivy, whose body has slowed down, no longer fighting off the vulture, yet her cries still rip through the air. 

He lets out a sob, warm tears streaming down his face before turning away to match Nick’s quickening pace. 

It’s only around thirty seconds before a loud series of branches whipping against each other echoes around them and the two boys come to a halt. 

That’s when Charlie feels it. 

The ground beneath their feet begins to rumble, a quick rush of air coming from behind them. It feels as if the world is shifting. He twists his neck to see the trees in the far distance closing over. The pathway back to Ivy has completely disappeared, and the trees begin to move to the right.

“Nick, the trees,” Charlie warns. “They’re moving again.”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees. “And it looks like they’re a lot faster than last time.” 

As they continue watching the trees begin to morph together behind them, the sound of wood snapping in front of them makes both boys look forward again. Charlie notices the ground ahead begins to clear, a new dirt trail appearing as the trees creak and groan from being split apart.

Wordlessly, they burst into a sprint again, with Charlie leading the way. Just like last time, he keeps his eyes on the ground, watching the new path ahead suddenly take a sharp left, so he points in that direction. The pair have to dodge moving trees every so often, but somehow, they manage to push through without tripping or being caught up. 

With one final turn, Charlie sees a clearing and slows down, but he has to skid to a stop because they’ve somehow come across the edge of a steep hill. He spins on his heel to warn Nick, but he’s a second too late. 

Nick’s eyes widen with realisation as he crashes into Charlie and sends them flying down the hillside. Charlie grips onto Nick’s t-shirt, wincing with every turn and bump they hit on the way down. Nick squeezes his arms tightly around Charlie’s body, one hand securely around his waist while the other is cradling the back of his head as if to shield him from the rough terrain of the slope as they fall. 

Finally, the hill evens out and they slow down, groaning as they roll a final time. Neither of them move for a few moments, their chests heaving as they both listen to their surroundings. There’s loud rustling overhead for a few moments but then it goes quiet as the forest comes to a stand still. Everything in Charlie’s body is aching – he can’t even begin to imagine what Nick must be feeling, seeing as he took the brunt of it.

Once he’s sure that nothing is obviously broken, Charlie pulls his head away from Nick’s chest to peer past the other’s shoulder and towards the ledge they just fell from. “Nick?” he asks softly. 

Nick groans in response, the weight of his body pressing Charlie into the cold and damp earth. “That fucking hurt.” 

“Try and roll off me so I can check you over?” Charlie suggests.

Nick obliges, another pained noise escaping him as he rolls onto his back, their limbs untangling as he lands with a thud. His eyes are squeezed shut, due to the pain, and his mouth is pressed together in a tight line as he stifles a whimper. Charlie shuffles onto his knees, glancing over Nick as his hands hesitate over Nick’s body, unsure of where to begin his examination. After realising how dirty his fingers are, he decides against touching anything and instead uses his eyes. There’s minor cuts along Nick’s face but the real damage is along his arms. The gashes aren’t too deep, most of them already scabbing over, but it’s almost the picture definition of the phrase ‘death by a thousand cuts’ with how many are scattered along his freckled skin. The cuts combined with the gravel and dirt from their fall doesn't fill Charlie with much confidence in Nick's ability to walk, let alone fight off any other attackers they might come across.

“Holy shit,” Charlie whispers, unable to hide the worry in his voice, “Nick, your arms.”

Nick’s eyes open, hazel meeting blue, and for a moment, time seems to freeze. Charlie’s face begins to warm as Nick’s eyes roam all over his face, as if in disbelief that they survived. Charlie clears his throat and it seems to be enough to pull Nick out of whatever trance he was in, because the other looks down to assess the damage. 

“I’ll be fine,” Nick mumbles, though the exhaustion in his voice isn’t very reassuring. “We just need to find a stream or something so I can clean the cuts out.” 

“Okay,” Charlie agrees before slowly pushing himself up to stand. 

Nick does the same, but stumbles as he straightens, so Charlie reaches out to grab Nick’s hands to help stabilise him. Nick shuts his eyes again, squeezing Charlie’s hands tightly in thanks. 

Suddenly, the familiar sound of the cannon sounds. 

“Ivy,” Charlie whispers with a gut-wrenching feeling of realisation. 

Nick’s eyes open to meet Charlie’s, remorse gracing his features. He silently lets go of Charlie’s hand before sighing with dejection. “We need to find shelter and lay low,” he murmurs. “With the trees shifting, who knows which other tributes have been pushed out this way.” 

Charlie nods, though he doesn’t fully process what Nick’s saying. The sight of Ivy fighting for her life is on loop in his mind, the sound of her crying out in pain amplifying with each breath he takes. 

The feeling of guilt is bubbling inside his chest, his lungs feeling as if they don’t have room for him to properly breathe. His stomach is queasy and he has to bring a shaky hand to his mouth to stop himself from throwing up. 

Why did she have to die like that? No one deserves such a grisly death. I could have saved her. I should have saved her.

“Charlie?” Nick asks, but his voice sounds distant. Charlie looks up at him, but his vision is blurred from the tears forming in his eyes, so he just looks back at the ground. His heart is pounding harshly against his ribs and it suddenly hits him what’s happening.

He’s on the brink of having a panic attack. 

He tries to calm himself down, tries to take a deep breath, but only manages to inhale a wisp of air before a sob escapes him. He drops his bow to the ground, rubbing both hands over his face as he begins to pace slightly back and forth. His fingers thread through his curls as more tears begin to fall, his knees beginning to turn to jelly. 

“I-I killed her,” Charlie whispers. “I could’ve saved her, but I left her to die. This is my fault, Nick.” 

“Charlie, listen to me,” Nick says firmly, grabbing both of Charlie’s arms with his hands. “This is not your fault. Everything that just happened is not your fault. I know it’s hard but right now, I need you to focus, Charlie.”

“I-I can’t–” Charlie starts to say but Nick interrupts him.

“Yes, you can,” Nick nods. As if out of instinct, he cups either side of Charlie’s face. “Look at me, Char.” 

The sudden nickname makes Charlie’s body freeze, his heart stopping as he feels the panic inside of him still. It’s such a subtle distraction – no one’s ever called him that before – but Charlie clings to it tightly as he tries to ground himself. He gives a slight nod to let Nick know he has Charlie’s full attention. 

“We need to find shelter. I need you to be strong right now,” the older boy urges. “Take a few deep breaths with me.”

Charlie nods, doing as he’s told and mirrors Nick’s actions. With each exhale, his chest feels less constricted and his hearing is no longer muffled. 

“Good,” Nick says softly, “Now, we have to go. I promise, you’ll get the proper moment to grieve, but we can’t do it while being exposed. Come on.”

He feels Nick’s fingers wrap around his wrist, and he follows the other’s lead. He watches Nick grab his bow before they begin to move. As they quickly walk further into the forest again, Charlie begins to feel dizzy, like he’s no longer there. His legs are somehow still moving forward even though he can’t feel them anymore. He tries to focus by staring at the ground, blinking every few steps to try and feel more present, but it doesn’t work. He tries to take in more air with each breath, but somehow, that makes him feel even more dizzy. 

The slowly growing sense of having no control over his body sends a flash of panic through him, and he can’t help but bring his free hand to hold onto Nick’s forearm to try and stay upright. This immediately alerts Nick that something isn’t quite right, so the older boy stops and turns to face Charlie, his brow furrowed.

“Charlie? What’s wrong?” he asks. 

Charlie squeezes his eyes tight. “I can’t–” He pants heavily. 

“Charlie?” Nick’s voice is muffled by the sound of Charlie’s heart thumping loudly in his ears. Nick takes a hold of his shoulders and squeezes gently, an attempt at bringing Charlie out of whatever he’s experiencing. 

“I–” Charlie gasps, then stumbles forward. 

And everything goes black.

Chapter Text

Nick doesn’t have any time to react as Charlie’s body collapses into his. His eyes widen as a chilling spark of panic rushes down his spine, pain emanating from all of the fresh wounds the vultures inflicted on him. He manages to brace himself as he hears Charlie’s bow clatter to the ground. 

“Charlie!” he gasps, looking down at the younger boy’s limp form. His heart feels like it’s going to stop at any moment and he stills for a brief second, his ears anticipating the deafening sound of a cannon. However, the invasive noise doesn’t happen, the only sound being Nick’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears. Panic is still swirling in his chest as he readjusts his arm so that he can see Charlie’s face.

“No, no, no, no… Charlie,” Nick whispers, his voice cracking as he says the other boy’s name. He taps his cheek rapidly, whispering “Charlie” over and over, but he doesn’t wake up. He simply hangs in Nick’s arms, seemingly lifeless. His skin is paler than normal, dark circles prominent under the boy’s eyes. Nick’s breath starts to become uneven, his mouth going dry with fear as he looks over Charlie’s body for any sign of injury. 

Panicking won’t save him, a voice reminds him in the back of his head. 

He inhales deeply, forcing himself to disconnect from his emotions. Right now, he needs to be a soldier, which means he needs to remain level-headed and think with his brain, not his heart. Nick grits his teeth and uses his second arm to scoop Charlie’s legs up so that he’s now carrying the other bridal style. Nick gets ready to run but suddenly remembers the discarded bow in front of them.

Charlie will kill me if I leave this behind.

 He squats down, his thighs burning with the weight pulling against his shoulders. Whilst Charlie is surprisingly light – even with the quiver of arrows on his back – the two backpacks slung across Nick’s shoulders and the fresh cuts along his body make up for the remaining weight. Still, he pushes through the pain, knowing the weapon is too precious to leave behind. He blindly feels for it with his arm that’s holding Charlie’s legs up. He feels his pinky graze the cool metal of the bow’s upper limb and swiftly grabs it.

Once he’s sure he’s got a good grip on both Charlie and the weapon, he doesn’t waste a second more. He begins to walk at a quick pace, his legs screaming in protest with each step. He does his best to keep his head on a swivel, looking for any safe area that isn’t out in the open. However, he can’t refrain from constantly checking on Charlie too, praying that he’ll wake up soon.

It doesn’t take him very long to find a cave, the entrance covered by bushes and a large pine tree. He would’ve missed it entirely had he not noticed a small rabbit appearing from behind the trunk. At first, Nick freezes from fear of it being a mutt, the vision of the vultures flashing across his mind. However, the bunny simply scurries towards its destination  and nothing else follows it from the cave. He takes that as a good sign.

He finds it to be a tight fit upon entering at first, but Nick miraculously manages to squeeze both Charlie and himself through the threshold. He sets Charlie down immediately, listening for any signs of life in the dimness. Strips of sunlight trickle through the cave’s entrance, light spilling across the floor and walls. The brightness, no matter how dull, helps expose the shallowness of the cave and Nick knows that they’re safe for now. 

Nick presses his fingers against Charlie’s pulsepoint while simultaneously resting the back of his hand against the other’s damp forehead, looking for any signs of a fever. Thankfully, he can feel Charlie’s heartbeat underneath his jawline, and he’s breathing at a steady pace. Nick huffs a sigh of relief, resting on his knees as his head falls back. He closes his eyes, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for both of them surviving the first event. 

Having the time to properly process what they just went through, he realises that he was never really sure what the first event was going to be like. During his years of training in District 2, the trainers prepared them for almost everything: combat skills, weapon handling, managing to make do with few resources available. But something that they could never fully prepare him for was the arena events. The only knowledge they could glean of them was through watching whatever events happened in the Games the previous years. The coaches would play the arena events on a constant loop, critiquing the tributes by noting what mistakes led to death and praising what choices led to tributes surviving another day… But the events were never the same. The Capitol was getting more creative every Hunger Games, so any notes that Nick took during those training sessions would be less relevant come the following year.

Now that Nick has actually experienced an event first hand, he knows that all the work he did was done in vain. Nothing could prepare a human’s body or mind for what he and Charlie just endured. The realisation provokes violent images of the vultures to flash across his mind once more: fresh memories of their razor sharp teeth and equally sharp talons, followed by the booming noise of their gunfire screams, which were now ingrained in his brain. Their shrill voices made the cacophony of gunfire back in District 2 sound like child’s play. He gasps, and his eyes open immediately as he leans forward, already reaching for his weapon to protect himself. He stares at the empty cave around them, minus Charlie’s sleeping form, and the fear brewing in his stomach feels like a fifty-pound weight. It wasn’t his first time dancing with death, but it was the first time he’d felt fear since entering the arena. He’s practised fighting other humans his entire life, but a wild animal? A Capitol mutt, nonetheless?

That’s a skill that Nick didn’t know he lacked until today.

Nick’s body throbs at the memory of feeling their sharp talons scratching his skin open, but while the thought isn’t welcomed, it does remind him of the healing gel they were given not too long ago from Tara. Nick shrugs the backpacks off before coming to a wobbly stand. He wants to get into the gel but first, he needs to make sure the entrance is completely blocked. 

Thankfully, there are freshly fallen branches scattered along the ground from the forest’s most recent shift. He finds large ones that have the same coloured shrubbery as the bushes blocking the entrance, and he carries them back one by one, stacking them on top of each other strategically between the base of the pine tree and the rock wall. He pauses to study his handiwork, subtle pride blooming from within his chest. His work blends in seamlessly with its surroundings, which gives him a small peace of mind. 

They may not be safe from the eyes of the Capitol, but no tributes will find them here. 

He shifts the logs just enough to sneak back into the cave before putting them in place. He checks on Charlie, thankful to see that his face is beginning to look less pale, before he opens up the backpack. He takes off his jacket and peels his shirt off, cursing quietly at the simmering pain he begins to feel when the fabric drags along his skin. He sets both articles of clothing on the ground, reaches into the backpack and finds the container of medicine as well as the flask of water. A somber feeling floods him as he notices Ivy’s flask had found a home in their bag somehow, no doubt from when they were eating the rabbit together. It feels heavy, in more ways than one – which means she must’ve filled it up at some point before the mutts arrived. 

A sadness settles in his bones as he remembers her crying for help, and even though they didn’t necessarily like each other, Nick can’t help but mourn the loss of his temporary ally. If the roles had been reversed, he would’ve tried to kill her too. That’s what they were there to do, after all. And, Career or not, District 2 tributes have a reputation – one that cannot and should not be ignored. Ivy was just following the rules of the game, playing the role that she was given. She did it well too, but because she trusted Charlie, she in turn trusted Nick. And when she had the perfect opportunity to leave them to die, she chose to stay and fight by their side. Not as tributes forced into an allyship, but as kids who were forced to atone for the sins committed long before their lifetimes. To pay for the dues they did not owe. 

Nick didn’t want to leave her behind, to let her become another face in the sky and body in the ground, but he knew there was nothing they could do besides escape. At least that way, her sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

As he holds the flask in his hand now, it almost feels like a parting gift from her, even if it was unintentional. He whispers a soft thanks towards the ceiling of the cave and gingerly sets the flask down. He opens the other flask that’s only partially full and picks up his shirt, wetting it before trying to clean the dirt and dried blood from some of his wounds.

He bites his lower lip harshly so as not to make any noise, pain searing underneath his skin as he wipes each cut tenderly. He gets them as clean as possible with what he has before opening the medicine container and applying the gel. He tries not to think back to when he first had to use this gel, but it’s hard not to – especially when, deep down, he wishes it was Charlie’s fingers rubbing against his skin instead of his own again. 

Charlie’s touch had been so tender, his pupils dilated every time their eyes met… Goosebumps raise along his skin at the memory, and he tries to ignore the way his heart rate spikes. At first, he had trouble understanding why his body reacted the way it did when it came to Charlie. But now, with everything that’s happened between them, he’s beginning to put the pieces together. 

The random feeling of butterflies being trapped in his body. The constant need to be around Charlie so that he can protect him. The yearning to be able to touch Charlie without it being to check the younger boy for any injuries… 

Nick might be oblivious at times, but even he can’t ignore the signs of what he’s feeling. Even if it’s the first time he’s felt them. All he can do is deny them, because there is no possible outcome in which those feelings will matter in the end anyway. 

He works methodically, applying the last of the gel to every visible wound he can find, though the supply is dwindling far faster than he’d like. With only a few scoops remaining, his gaze drifts to Charlie’s sleeping form. Shuffling closer, Nick sits beside him and begins to carefully inspect him for any injuries. To his relief, Charlie seems relatively unscathed, apart from a few faint scratches along his cheeks.

Hooking his finger into the remaining medicine, Nick sets the container aside and leans in. His breath catches as he brushes Charlie’s curls away from his face, struck by how peaceful he looks in sleep. With gentle precision, he dabs the gel onto each scratch, his touch light and careful. Once finished, he wipes his hand on his leg and tucks the now empty container back into the bag. Picking his shirt up off the ground, he steals one last glance at Charlie before resuming his work.

It’s only then that he notices the numerous holes in the fabric, his fingers brushing over the frayed edges. Despite its condition, he pulls the shirt on anyway, then ties the jacket around his waist by the sleeves. Returning to Charlie’s side, he sits down once more. The silence around him feels almost oppressive, broken only by the soft, steady breaths that escape Charlie’s lips – a fragile tether keeping Nick grounded.

Instinctively, he draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them. His ankles cross as he settles, though his foot twitches nervously from time to time, a restless response to the overwhelming quiet.

Nick tries to let himself drift off as the night drags on, but every time his eyes close for more than a few seconds, vivid images of the vultures or Ivy’s body flood his mind, jolting him awake. Eventually, he gives up on fully sleeping, and instead settles into a restless state somewhere between being alert and being unconscious. Leaning against the wall of the cave, he keeps a vigilant watch, his gaze fixed on the shadows that shroud their shelter. Charlie’s head rests near his leg, a quiet reassurance amid the uneasy feeling. Nick’s hand hovers near his knife on the other side, ready for anything as the evening stretches on.

As he counts to one hundred for the tenth time, the urge to fidget with something is nearly driving him insane. He clenches and unclenches his hands before instinctively reaching for his knife, desperate to keep his mind occupied. But as his arm extends, he freezes, a sudden thought flickering through his mind.

His gaze shifts to Charlie, lying peacefully nearby, and his fingers twitch with hesitation. He debates the idea, weighing the risk against the strange comfort he craves. Exhaustion clouds his judgment though, leaving no room for doubt or worry of Charlie’s reaction. Taking a shaky breath, Nick lets his hand drift lower until his fingertips brush against the soft curls of Charlie’s hair.

A quiet exhale escapes him as he gently threads his fingers through the strands, his eyelids fluttering shut for a brief moment. To his surprise, the soft texture beneath his touch begins to quiet the storm in his mind. The haunting images of vultures fade to the background. Instead, different images flash across his mind, ones full of soft mornings, the smell of bread, and dazzling blue eyes looking up at him with a carefree smile. As he lets his nails lazily scratch along Charlie’s scalp, the tense knot in his shoulders begins to unwind itself, and the bliss of sleep nears closer and closer. 

***

Nick is awoken by the sound of a bird cawing and his eyes flutter open on instinct. He sits up straight, his head whipping around as he looks for any signs of danger. However, he only sees the empty cave and Charlie. Charlie’s still asleep, but his jacket is now his pillow, which means he must’ve woken up in the middle of the night. A small bubble of guilt fills Nick’s stomach because he had made a promise to himself to stay awake, but he chooses to internalise it. While it was a reckless action, it didn’t cost them their lives. 

This time, at least.

The entrance to the cave looks undisturbed, and Nick’s knife is still right by his thigh. 

He yawns, sitting up and rubbing the remnants of sleep away from his eyes. As he stretches, he notices that he’s not in nearly as much pain as he was before, prompting him to look at his arms. As expected, his wounds are nothing but faint marks now, not a scab or scar to be seen. He lifts his shirt up to check along his chest and abdomen, happy that those marks are almost completely healed too. 

Nick comes to a stand just as his stomach grumbles, and he knows that he needs to find something for both him and Charlie to eat. He tries to figure out what he can scavenge and as he ponders, he notices a shiny glint in his peripheral vision. He looks over at the source, his eyes landing on the bow that’s reflecting the morning light seeping through the branches at the entrance of the cave. He bites his lower lip, looking down at Charlie for a moment, before he walks over and picks up both the bow and quiver. He slings the quiver over his shoulder, his tendons aching in protest, and he makes his way towards the cave entrance.

Nick squints, blinking as his eyes adjust to the soft light of dawn creeping into their temporary sanctuary. For a fleeting moment, he glances at the sky, almost losing himself in its tranquillity, before the harsh reality of their situation comes crashing back as his stomach churns with hunger. The brief calm evaporates, and he clears his throat, stepping cautiously away from their fragile bubble of safety.

Reaching for an arrow from the quiver, he nocks it against the bowstring, his muscles tense with anticipation. Keeping low in a half-crouched stance, Nick moves carefully through the underbrush, his eyes scanning every shadow and movement in search of food – or threats. The stillness around him feels charged, every sound amplified as he navigates the terrain with quiet precision.

It isn’t long before the distant honking of grooslings catches Nick’s attention from the west. He quickly pivots toward the sound, moving with purpose while silently hoping the birds won’t take flight before he reaches them. At the same time, a small, wary thought crosses his mind and he can only hope these creatures are ordinary animals – not another one of the arena’s twisted muttations.

I’ll never be able to look at birds the same way again.

As the noise gets louder, he readies himself to shoot. He stands up and pulls the arrow back, squaring his shoulders and inhaling deeply. He peers at one of the birds resting along the tree branch and inhales deeply, releasing the arrow on exhale. The arrow whirrs past the bird, startling it instead of hitting it, and the bird takes off without a scratch.

“Fucking… ” Nick grumbles, pulling another arrow from the quiver and re-nocking it. Thankfully, the other grooslings are seemingly unbothered, continuing to peck at the seeds along the grass.

 Nick repositions himself once more, pulling the arrow back as he aims for one of the smaller but plumpier birds. He repeats the process, inhaling deeply and letting go as he exhales. To his delight, the groosling squawks in defeat as it falls over, its wings flapping slightly. The rest of the birds fly away this time, but Nick doesn’t complain, instead feeling rather successful at the fact that he managed to get it on the second try. He steps through the bushes and bends over, grabbing the creature by its neck and turning to go back towards the cave. 

Charlie’s not going to believe this, he grins to himself. 

Pride is strumming through his body as he studies his handiwork, pulling the arrow out of the creature and attempting to wipe the blood off his leg before placing it back in the quiver. Just as he begins to move again, he nearly jumps out of his skin as the sound of a cannon booms across the sky. Nick’s heart drops into his stomach as he stills, the overwhelming sense of dread washing over him like a bucket of ice water. He begins to run immediately, the rocks beneath his feet crunching loudly with each step he takes. 

“Charlie!” Nick shouts loudly, his brows furrowing with panic, not finding it in him to care if he’s revealing his location. 

No! Why did I leave him unattended? He was asleep, and I just fucking left him! What was I thinking!?

Nick’s heart is hanging on by a thread as he calls Charlie’s name again and again, his voice becoming more desperate as tears begin to blur his vision. He jumps over uprooted trees, slinging the bow over his shoulder and pulling his knife out, already forming an attack plan in his head. As he runs, ‘ I can’t lose him ’ repeats on a loop inside his mind.

The trees surrounding him are nothing but a blur, the wind blowing his hair out of his face as he finally approaches the cave. His eyes widen with horror at the sight of the dishevelled branches that are scattered to the side, though he can’t tell if it’s because someone entered or because someone left. 

“Charlie?” Nick asks, throwing caution to the wind as he tosses the bird on the ground and rushes inside. His knife is poised and ready as he looks around, though Charlie is nowhere to be found. The only remnants are Charlie’s jacket on the floor and their disregarded backpacks. Nick actually whimpers at the sight, his discomfort and anxiety only growing as he turns on his heel and runs back out towards the forest. Just as he jumps over the branches, he hears a scream coming from his left.

“Nick!” 

His body relaxes slightly at the sound of Charlie’s voice off in the distance, and he practically launches off the ground, breaking into a sprint. “Charlie!” he bellows between pants, forcing himself to pick up the pace even though his legs and lungs are burning in protest. 

“Nick!” Charlie shouts again, this time sounding closer than before. 

They continue to call out for each other repeatedly, their voices becoming more clear with each yell. Just as Nick’s feet touch the ground from jumping over a fallen log, he feels something collide into his side, causing him to topple over. A searing pain bursts out along his torso and ribs as he lands on a rock, groaning loudly. The wind is knocked out of his lungs, his knife clattering to the ground just beyond his reach. As he reaches for it, he feels a hand grab the collar of his shirt. 

Nick’s hazel eyes lock with sporadic blue ones – Charlie’s straddling his waist and holding a rock in the air, ready to strike. They’re both panting heavily, and Nick watches the younger boy’s face soften, followed by the rock landing against the ground with a muted thud. Tears escape him at the sight of Charlie, who’s completely unharmed, and he immediately sits upwards, pulling Charlie into a hug. He feels Charlie’s arms wrap around his neck as the other hugs him back, both of their bodies trembling.

When they pull away, Charlie’s hands cup Nick’s face as his blue eyes begin looking him over, worry and fear etched into his features. He breathes in disbelief, as if finally accepting that it’s really Nick underneath him, and pulls him in for another hug. 

“I thought you died,” Charlie croaks, his fist grabbing the back of Nick’s shirt. 

“I thought you died,” Nick responds, his own voice hoarse from screaming. 

He hugs Charlie’s waist tightly, burying his nose in Charlie’s neck as his brain catches up with his body. He grips the back of Charlie’s shirt just as tightly and they sit there for a few seconds, embracing each other and basking in one another’s presence. As their bodies begin to shake less, Charlie leans back, tears streaming down his face as he runs a shaky hand along Nick’s hair. 

“Don’t you ever leave me alone again,” Charlie scolds, though there’s no anger behind his words. “You need to promise to stay with me from now on.”

“Where you go, I’ll go,” Nick nods in agreement. “Always.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer than necessary, and Nick’s face begins to warm as he realises Charlie’s still very much sitting on his lap. He tries to ignore how much he likes the feeling as they both clamber to their feet, looking around for any sign of life as they do so. Nick’s eyes flicker to the ground where Charlie’s “weapon” is, noticing that the rock looks similar to the others scattered along the cave floor. 

“You were going to bludgeon me with a rock? That’s not a very practical weapon,” he sniffles, his lips curling into a smile as he wipes the remnants of his tears.

“You have my bow,” Charlie points out, tapping the string notch by Nick’s shoulder. “I figured a rock was better than nothing.”

The heat of embarrassment flushes his cheeks as Nick slowly takes the bow off his body, handing it to Charlie along with the quiver before quickly grabbing the knife that was dropped. Once they’re sure they’re in the clear, they start walking back towards the cave. They make sure to stay quiet, so as not to give away their location anymore than they already have, and Nick idly wonders who it was that had died.

Selfishly, part of him hopes that it’s Harry’s face they see in the sky tonight. Logically, he knows that Harry is far too skilled to be dead this early in the Games. The notion leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, the familiar feeling of dread latching itself onto him once more – like an annoying gnat that won’t piss off. If Nick’s mental maths are correct, the cannon earlier means there’s seven or eight of the tributes left, meaning they’re over halfway towards the end. While it should be a comforting idea to know Nick has made it this far, it only feeds into the anxiety that he’s been desperately trying to keep away. 

Deep down, Nick knows there’s a part of himself that had hoped he’d die in the beginning, because then he wouldn’t have to choose between his life or Charlie’s. But now, as Nick glances down at the other, he knows that his mind is made up. 

Maybe it was made up long before the Games even began.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

Charlie stays close to Nick as they head back to their camp. His mind is still reeling from the emotional whiplash he just experienced. From waking up alone with no bow in sight, hearing the cannon sound, and the dread he felt when he was searching for Nick, to literally crashing into him and feeling relief. It had been an intense way to regain consciousness.

Before the Games started, he was so sure that he would keep to himself – hide away and do only what was necessary to survive. But that’s not who he is. Since his parents died, he has learned and adapted to become a fighter and to care for those he loves. So, it was almost inevitable that he ended up caring for three people. 

And now, only one of them is still alive. The sudden idea of not having Nick around took over any rationale of keeping himself safe, and he couldn’t help but search for him. 

He internally cringes at himself as he thinks back on how stupid that really was. 

Really? Risking your life for a boy you hardly know, all because you don’t want to be without him? an annoyed voice inside his head says. 

Woah, hang on, Charlie immediately thinks. That’s a bit random. I can live without Nick… right?

Fortunately he doesn’t get to dwell on it for much longer, as they soon arrive back at the camp. Just after he walks into the cave, Nick fusses about with the branches at the entrance to conceal their position. Charlie sits down next to his jacket and the bags and fully takes in the little space Nick found them. He begins to feel a state of calm overcome him, and then his eyes land on a dead groosling opposite to him. 

“Uh… what happened there?” Charlie can't help but ask, pointing at the bird.

Charlie watches Nick follow his finger as he makes his way over to Charlie. “Oh, I shot it with your bow and arrows,” he replies with a little shrug, a hint of a smile appearing. 

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he replies. 

Nick’s smile grows as he sees Charlie’s expression, a hint of glee twinkling in his eye. “I tried archery years ago, back in Two. I was never any good at it though as I was more of a hand-to-hand kind of fighter, but…” he takes a breath. “I guess I’ve always been a fast learner, especially when I have someone to watch.”

Nick’s cheeks suddenly bloom pink as his eyes grow wide with panic, and Charlie feels himself grow warm at the sight. “Not as in I watch you a lot. I mean, I guess I kind of do – not, er, in a weird way? I’d say a respectable amount, really.” As Nick speaks, the blush on his face deepens into a dark maroon. “I-I just meant that I must’ve picked up a few things,” Nick stutters, then sighs covering his face with his hands.

Charlie laughs softly, causing Nick to groan with embarrassment. Without thinking, Charlie reaches out and places a hand on Nick’s forearm. The action makes Nick look at Charlie through the gaps in his fingers with shy eyes. Charlie bites back a smile and gently pulls Nick’s arm down. “It’s okay,” he replies. “I knew what you meant.”

Glad I’m not the only one looking, Charlie thinks to himself.

The pair smile at each other for a few seconds, their eyes unmoving, until Nick takes a big inhale of air and breaks the connection. Charlie brings his hand back to himself, his fingertips immediately missing Nick’s skin, and loosely hugs his knees. Nick clears his throat and stands up.

“I’m just gonna grab some stuff for a fire,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes away from Charlie.

A wave of panic washes over Charlie at the thought of Nick leaving him again. “Don’t go too far,” Charlie says a bit too quickly for his liking. 

Nick’s eyes meet his, the older boy’s eyebrows raising in surprise. His lips twist into a shy smile and he nods. “I’ll just be outside, don’t worry. And I’ll leave the bow this time,” he adds, winking playfully. However, the shy smile fades as he realises that he actually winked, and Nick licks his lips nervously before leaving.

Charlie lets out a breath once Nick leaves him alone. 

Get yourself together.

He decides to distract himself by preparing the groosling so they can cook it as soon as the fire is ready. To save time, he skips the plucking step and goes straight to skinning the bird. Charlie almost immediately relaxes, his arms moving by muscle memory, and it sends him back to a more peaceful time. As he works, his mind drifts back to the countless times he’d make dinner in 12. A groosling like this would feed them for a few days, sometimes even giving them enough to also share some with their friends or neighbours. 

A specific memory resurfaces.  He’d managed to bring back two grooslings after an unusually successful hunt. It was the first time in a few months that Charlie had been able to catch something, due to the bitter winter. He remembers seeing the surprise and smiles on Tori and Olly’s faces when he pulled the birds out from behind his back. That feeling of being able to provide for his siblings was… It was a feeling Charlie constantly longed to feel again. He would do anything to see them smile one more time.

To get to hug them one more time.

His moment back in time is interrupted as Nick steps back inside, holding a bunch of twigs and branches underneath one arm. Charlie subtly watches as Nick sets up and lights the fire with ease. Charlie blinks the wetness in his eyes away, keeping his head down and focused on the bird before him before a thought crosses his mind.

“Wait… The smoke,” Charlie looks up at him, hoping Nick won’t notice his tear-filled eyes. “Won’t we suffocate?” 

If Nick notices his tears, he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he shakes his head before nodding towards the entrance. “I left one of the branches out to make a small hole, which should act as a makeshift ventilation system. I also noticed earlier today that there’s a few gaps in the ceiling. Nothing that’ll give us away, but they’re big enough that spots of light shine through during the day. We should be fine, but if it gets to be too much, we can move the branches some more or put the fire out.”

Charlie nods slowly, thankful for Nick’s attention to detail. “Right, okay.” 

Finally, the bird is ready to be cooked, so he picks up one of Nick’s spears and guides it through the centre of the animal’s body before holding it over the fire. He looks up to see a pensive look on Nick’s face, the soft glow of orange decorating his features as the flames jump up every time a droplet of fat drips from the bird. Charlie reluctantly pulls his eyes away from Nick and back to the groosling to make sure that it’s cooking evenly. 

A few moments later, he hears Nick chuckling softly to himself, so he looks up and sees Nick shaping his hands into weird positions. Nick has a gentle smile on his face, though it’s not a full grin. It’s a smile Charlie’s never seen before – a lopsided boyish smirk graces his lips, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” Charlie asks curiously. 

Nick looks back at Charlie over his shoulder. “Shadow puppets,” he explains, shrugging casually. “I used to do them for Sami when he was growing up.” 

Charlie smiles at the thought and his gaze moves over to the cave wall where he sees the shadow of Nick’s hands form a bird. “Any other shapes you can do?” he asks. 

Nick’s face seems to brighten at the question, and he nods enthusiastically. He looks back at the wall before easily changing his hands to make his shadow resemble a dog. He even goes the extra mile of moving his fingers so that it looks like the dog’s ear is twitching.

Charlie raises an eyebrow and contemplatively hums. 

Nick twists his neck around to meet Charlie’s eyes. “Good, eh?” Then he grins a grin that makes something in Charlie’s tummy flip. 

Charlie tries to push the feeling down and attempts to hide it with a sassy remark. “Please. My brother could do that by the time he was four.”

Nick’s brows pinch together as he purses his lips in false offense. “Oof, tough crowd.” Then he smirks. “Alright then, Mr Know-it-all, have you seen a four year old do this?” 

Charlie watches the shadow morph into a pretty accurate depiction of a cat and nods approvingly. He even hooks his finger by his elbow, making it look like a cat’s tail as he flicks it back and forth. “Better, but not impressive.” 

Nick rolls his eyes in response, but says nothing, instead turning back to look at his hands. He focuses for a few moments until he quietly hisses, “Yes!” in triumph. It takes a few seconds for Charlie to realise the new animal is an elephant, his mind only registering it when Nick raises his fingers to form the elephant’s tusks. Charlie is about to reply, thinking that Nick is done, but is pleasantly surpris- interrupted when the older boy moves the fingers acting as the elephant’s trunk, accompanied by a quiet trumpet noise.

Charlie can’t help the giggle that escapes him. “Okay, that’s pretty cool,” he resigns. 

Nick grins as he relaxes his arms. “Do you know how to do any?” he asks.

Charlie shakes his head. “Nah,” he replies. “I could never get the hang of it.”

Nick looks at him for a moment, then a flash of inspiration appears on his face. “I could show you how to do it, if you’d like?” 

“Really?” Charlie asks, a bit taken aback.

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he encourages. “They’re pretty easy when you get the hang of it.”

“Okay,” Charlie replies hesitantly. “But what about this?” He lifts the spear slightly, drawing attention to the cooking bird. 

Nick furrows his brows in thought before his face lights up with an idea. He quickly comes to a stand, and Charlie watches in a mixed state of awe and confusion as Nick finds four big sticks, putting two on each side of the fire. He manages to embed them into the ground enough so that they stay upright before gesturing for Charlie to hand over the spear. He settles it on top of the sticks with ease, his tongue poking between his lips as he focuses on making sure it doesn’t topple over.

“Come over here,” Nick says softly, beckoning Charlie over with his hand. 

Charlie does just that, and settles onto the ground opposite Nick. 

“Right,” Nick begins, smiling at Charlie. “First, you lift up your left arm and bend it at a ninety-degree angle.” 

Charlie watches Nick’s arm and copies him. 

“And then, to make the shape of the head, you have to bend your first two fingers and cross your thumb over your nails like…” he trails off as he concentrates on shaping his own fingers. Charlie looks carefully, trying to take in the right details, but the soft amber glow from the fire draws attention to the hairs and freckles on Nick’s arm. 

“Your turn,” Nick prompts. 

Charlie blinks out of his daze and looks back at Nick’s expectant face, with wide and eager eyes. Charlie shifts his own eyes to his hand, trying to follow Nick’s instructions. 

Rather surprisingly, it's a lot harder than he expected it to be, with his ring and pinky fingers not being able to stay straight. “I don’t think I’m doing this right,” Charlie laughs awkwardly. 

Nick chuckles softly. “Here, let me.” 

Before Charlie can respond, Nick’s fingers are gently on top of his, moving them in place until he’s certain they’re in the right position.

“There we go,” Nick says happily, pulling his fingers away. 

Charlie looks at the shadow on the wall, and sure enough, his hand is making the shape of a swan’s head. 

“And to make it really look like a swan, you have to bend your wrist a little and pull your arm back,” Nick continues, once again using his hands to pull Charlie’s arms into position. 

With every touch, Charlie feels his skin tingle and heat up. Nick is so gentle, and his fingertips are surprisingly soft for someone who has been using his hands in combat for years. He tries so hard to keep his breathing steady and quiet, but Nick just keeps going. He can’t help but stare at the older boy in fascination.

“The next step is to bring your other hand,” Nick takes Charlie’s hand in his and lifts it up to his arm, “and fan out your fingers, as if you’re about to high five someone, then bend your wrist back just above your arm to make the wings.” 

Charlie’s eyes flick between Nick’s face and his hand, not knowing where to look as Nick’s fingers graze against Charlie’s palm and arm as he moves them into position, sending pleasant shivers through his bones. Luckily, Nick doesn’t seem to notice, as he is too focused on Charlie’s shadow puppet. 

“And that is how you make a swan shadow!” Nick whispers excitedly. 

Charlie looks back at the wall and his eyes grow wide. “Oh my god, it does look like one, doesn’t it?” he replies with a breathy giggle, trying to keep his voice low. 

“Pretty cool, right?” Nick responds, before morphing his own arms into another swan, positioning it right next to Charlie’s. “You can make the beak move too if you move your pinky away from the other finger. Or, even the wings if you flex your fingers to make it seem like the swan is stretching.” 

Charlie watches in awe as Nick’s swan does just that, then he moves to make it seem like it's cleaning its feathers. Charlie can’t help but let out a surprised giggle and look at Nick, who has a goofy grin spread across his face. 

Charlie looks back at his own shadow again and tries to move the fingers representing the beak. He kind of manages it, but it’s not as smooth as Nick’s. Charlie sighs in defeat, leaning forward, but still maintaining his swan shape. The sigh causes Charlie’s body to lean forward slightly, meaning that his and Nick’s hands bump together. Neither one of them moves away though, and Charlie’s face warms as he realises that their swans have accidentally made the shape of a heart.

Charlie cautiously looks over at Nick, and is surprised to see that Nick is already looking at him. They both have soft smiles on their faces, eyes unmoving. It’s not awkward in the slightest. Charlie almost feels a sense of comfort as their fingertips and eyes stay connected. He notices Nick’s eyes flick down for a split second before returning to Charlie's. 

Was he looking at my lips? Charlie asks himself. Why was he looking at my lips? Doesn’t that mean… 

Oh. 

At that sudden realisation, Charlie can’t help but lick his lips, which are slightly chapped and dry. His arms are now heavy, so he slowly lets them relax down in front of him, and Nick does the same. Charlie swallows heavily, the crackle of the fire being the only sound around them. 

Charlie’s eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they flick down to Nick’s lips as well. He finds himself wanting to look at them for longer than he should; Nick’s smile is still there, but it’s softer now, turning up on one side again. 

It’s a moment that seems to last for eons, but something in the back of Charlie’s mind reminds him of the groosling that he’s supposed to be cooking and he eventually forces himself to look away. 

“I should check on…” he trails off, his voice almost a whisper, and he points his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the fire. 

Nick quickly blinks a few times and clears his throat. “Yeah, sure,” he replies, his voice also quiet and low.

The pair share a couple of small, almost nervous, smiles at each other before Charlie stands up to head closer to the fire. 

Somehow, Charlie can still feel Nick’s touch on his skin, and it burns warmer than the fire.

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick’s heart is still racing as Charlie makes his way to the fire. Just as his hand touches the spear, the Panem Anthem echoes in the sky. They simultaneously look towards the entrance and Nick holds his hand up when he sees Charlie start to move. 

“Stay with the fire. I’ll go look,” Nick says and Charlie nods, a glimmer of trust in his eyes. 

Nick steps quietly towards the pile of branches and lifts the top one just enough so that he can see. His eyes dart across the sky before he spots the twirling emblem of Panem. The image of District 10’s male tribute appears briefly before the sky goes black. Nick resituates the branch before making his way back inside just as Charlie holds the cooked bird up. 

Nick sits next to him, the softness that was once in the air now gone, a grimness taking its place. Charlie hands Nick some of the meat, and they eat in silence for a few moments, both seeming to remember that this isn’t some fun camping weekend where they do shadow puppets and go hunting. 

This is the Hunger Games. 

They’ve been lucky so far, all things considered. But the tributes are dwindling and Harry is still very much alive. 

“How many?” Charlie whispers quietly, as if scared that his voice was going to cause the cave to fall in on itself. 

“Just one,” Nick murmurs, forcing himself to swallow the meat even though his stomach feels sick. “The boy from District Ten.”

Charlie nods slowly, his eyes dropping back down to the bird. It seems as if they’ve both lost the appetite that they’d managed to build. As the fire simmers down, forcing the warm air out and letting the cold air in, the bird has been only partially eaten. As they get ready to lay down for the night, Nick finds his teeth are already beginning to chatter as he shrugs his jacket on. He glances over at Charlie, noting the boy’s already curled in on himself and his shoulders shake every few seconds.

“Hey,” Nick murmurs before he can stop himself. 

“Y-Yeah?” Charlie shivers through his teeth. 

“If you need to come closer for warmth, you can.” Nick’s heart suddenly jumps in his throat, and his body stills. Charlie responds with silence, and Nick suddenly wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

Careful what you wish for, his brain unwelcomely reminds him.

Just as Nick’s about to start over-explaining himself in an attempt to save the situation, Charlie speaks in the softest voice that Nick’s ever heard. 

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah? Remember what the lady told us back in the training centre? There’s other ways to die than just being murdered. Hypothermia was one of the first things she mentioned.” 

Sure, Nick, let’s go with that.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Charlie sighs and Nick watches him crawl over quietly. Nick instinctively crosses his arms over his chest, his body both panicking and begging to feel Charlie’s warmth. Even though the fire’s out, he can see the outline of Charlie’s head tilt, almost like it’s out of curiosity. He can practically see Charlie’s face of confusion. 

“What?” Nick asks, sounding more defensive than he had meant.

“Don’t our bodies need to be like… touching in order to preserve heat?” Charlie asks awkwardly. 

Oh. Right.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Nick agrees. He extends his arm and shuffles a bit. 

Waiting with suspense as Charlie realigns himself, Nick’s body goes frigid as he feels Charlie’s chest press against his. Charlie’s heat seeps through his shirt and into his bones, enveloping Nick in a warmth that he’s never quite experienced before. His breath hitches as he feels Charlie’s arm begin to wrap around his side, but the younger boy stills at the sound.

“S-Sorry, that was so stupid of m–” Charlie whispers, his arm jerking back immediately. Nick’s hand moves before his brain can think, his fingers wrapping around Charlie’s wrist tenderly.

“No, it’s okay,” Nick whispers and for some reason, he feels his eyes start to well up. He doesn’t let his voice show it though. “It just startled me.” 

Charlie doesn’t respond but he doesn’t fight back either, as Nick tugs his arm back and places it along his waist. Nick tries to remember the last time someone touched his body in a way that wasn’t meant to harm him, but he can’t. The way Charlie had placed his arm so delicately, as if Nick were made of silk and not steel... It was stirring something inside of his chest, something that he didn’t want to disappear yet. 

Neither of them speak a word, but Nick can feel Charlie’s breaths begin to even out as it fans along Nick’s chest. He blinks a few times, laying there and staring into the darkness of the cave, unsure of what to do with his arm that’s currently hanging in the air out of nervousness. Once he’s sure Charlie’s asleep, Nick decides to take a risk, moving his arm to wrap around Charlie’s shoulders. His heart is beating like a hummingbird’s wings as he lets his fingers splay along Charlie’s back.

Nick takes a few calming breaths before he lets his eyes flutter closed, the initial panic of holding Charlie like this beginning to fade.

Charlie was literally on my lap earlier, cupping my face. I didn’t panic then, why should I now?

Logically, Nick knows that the reason he didn’t panic earlier was because of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. However now, the only thing coursing through him is Charlie’s warmth. He lets himself get lost in the feeling, though he ends up staying awake for a little while longer. He selfishly lets himself take a moment to commit this feeling to memory – the feeling of Charlie. 

When exhaustion does finally take hold of his brain, a single fleeting thought shoots across his mind like a star in the sky.

Is this what it feels like to fall for someone?

Chapter Text

Charlie awakes to a heaviness around his middle that momentarily disorientates him. He blinks his eyes open slowly and all he initially sees is the skin of Nick’s chest through the rips of his t-shirt. Nick’s chest rises and falls slowly with each steady breath, which brings comfort to Charlie, a comfort he didn’t know he needed. Nick is surprisingly warm despite the fact that they slept in a cave with no fire. It almost makes Charlie pull Nick closer, but he manages to stop himself.

Charlie’s head is resting on top of Nick’s bicep, so he slowly inches it back a little to see Nick’s face more clearly. Nick looks completely relaxed, which Charlie has never really seen before. He feels little breaths of air against his face every time Nick exhales through slightly parted lips. He watches as Nick’s eyes flutter every so often, as if he’s dreaming. 

Charlie hopes that it’s a nice dream, to give Nick a moment to escape reality. 

A few more seconds pass, during which Charlie lets his eyes wander around Nick’s face. He's treated to the sight of Nick letting out a little groan as he squeezes his eyes. Charlie’s entire body flushes with warmth at the sound, and he quickly closes his eyes too in the hopes of feigning sleep. He tries to calm his hammering heart down, but Nick shifts his body which ends up shifting them even closer together, their legs now almost intertwining. Nick then lifts his arm away from Charlie’s body, and Charlie instantly misses the weight.

But then, he feels something lightly brush against his cheek. 

Despite being motionless already, Charlie feels like his blood freezes in his body. He quickly realises that what he feels is actually Nick’s finger, pushing strays curls out of his face and behind his ear.

I should really open my eyes. But that would mean interrupting whatever Nick is doing. I don’t want to do that. 

Charlie allows himself a few more seconds to revel in the moment before he pretends to wake up, stretching out a leg and slowly opening his right eye. 

Nick has a sleepy smile on his face, and his arm is tucked in between them, clearly trying to hide the fact of what he was doing a few seconds before. 

“Hi,” Charlie whispers as he smiles back, his voice sort of gravelly due to not speaking for a while.

“Hi,” Nick replies, his voice in a similar state. 

Charlie’s mind suddenly suggests that Nick is uncomfortable since his head is still resting on his arm; his self-inflicted requirement to apologise at any level of inconvenience tells him he should apologise and move. 

“Sorry that I’m still… y’know, like this,” he says shakily. “You’re just really warm.” 

Nick breathes out a chuckle and fondness sparkles in his eyes. “Charlie, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he replies softly. “It’s actually quite nice, to be honest.” 

“Oh,” is all Charlie murmurs, baffled at that unexpected response. He opens his mouth to say more, not really sure of what will come out, but anything would be better than the possible awkward silence that could occur. 

But then, a loud rumble comes from Nick’s stomach. Nick’s eyes grow wide and a blush appears on his cheeks. 

“Maybe we should have the rest of the bird we cooked,” Charlie suggests with a giggle. 

Nick nods and shuts his eyes tight with embarrassment. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” 

The two boys share one last burst of giggles before Charlie reluctantly peels himself away from Nick. He stretches out his back and neck a little before heading over to the fire pit. The meat is cold now, but it’s better than no food at all, so he uses a small knife he had tucked away in his backpack to cut off a couple of big chunks. 

Once all that’s left is bones and the occasional burnt piece of groosling meat, the pair pack up their things, not wanting to stay in one place longer than necessary. They take one last look at the cave that not only provided them safety and a sense of security – it provided them a small pocket of happiness; memories that both he and Nick would carry for the rest of their lives. As they begin their search for a body of water, so they can refill their flasks and clean themselves up a little, Charlie tries to ignore the small pit of sadness that grows with every step they take. 

They’ve been walking at a steady pace for around twenty minutes when a question pops into Charlie’s head. “What’s it actually like in District Two?” 

Nick glances over at Charlie with slightly raised eyebrows, clearly surprised by the sudden question. He then looks straight ahead, with his eyebrows furrowed in thought this time. 

“Well,” he begins. “It’s loud and busy, because of all the weapons and train parts that we make. Then there’s the training grounds for the Peacekeepers, so if you live close enough to the mountains you can sometimes hear them run drills and exercises.” 

“Sounds kind of… stressful, to be honest,” Charlie says, his lips turning up in slight distaste. 

Nick snorts. “Yeah, it’s not for everyone. If you ignore the constant reminder to train to be the best though, it’s actually quite beautiful. There’s so many high viewpoints where you can go to see the sun appear and disappear. Whenever I had a hard day at training, or if David was being an idiot, I’d go to one just to remind myself that there are some positive experiences to be had as well.” 

Charlie watches as the smile forms and then fades on Nick’s face as he recalls different memories about his home. “If we could visit other districts, I probably would’ve liked that part,” he says, hoping that it brings Nick some comfort. 

“Yeah,” Nick sighs.

A beat of silence falls between them, the weight of reminiscing about their homes hitting them all of a sudden. 

“What about Twelve?” Nick asks. “What’s it like?”

Charlie laughs bitterly. “There’s not much, really. Because of the mines, there’s so much coal and soot everywhere, so it’s always dirty. Since we don’t get much from the Capitol, everyone is tired because they have to work so much just to get the bare minimum. So it was a bit of a shock to the system when I stepped onto the train.” 

“That sounds… shit," Nick replies dejectedly.

“Yeah, to put it bluntly.” Charlie shrugs. “I remember once I got so fed up with the state of everything in Twelve that for a moment I wished I got reaped that year. Every day is the same, I always felt like–” 

Charlie is suddenly distracted by the earth beneath his feet as it turns soft and starts to give way. He stumbles a little as he’s forced to come to a stop – he finds is now unable to move. He looks down to see his feet slowly disappearing into the muddied ground below him, which threatens to throw him off balance. He tries to lift a foot up, but he only feels himself sink quicker. 

Quicksand.

At that realisation, a spike of fear courses through Charlie. While normally, quicksand isn’t necessarily lethal, nothing in this arena can be trusted.

“–shit,” he finishes his sentence, but his mind is now solely focused on the problem he faces: how the fuck does he get out? 

He instantly wracks his brain for any knowledge he has on quicksand, but nothing comes to mind except for ‘ don’t panic ’. He remembers watching the Games a couple of years ago when there had been a jungle-themed arena. Three different tributes died to quicksand throughout the Games, each one thrashing around violently in an attempt to save themselves. Every movement of panic caused them to descend further and further into the Gamemakers’ death trap. All Charlie could do at the time was watch in horror.  

Stay calm, Charlie, he tells himself, the words like a mantra in his head. He tries his best to recall something the announcers had mentioned during the Games that year: something about how deep breaths can help a body maintain buoyancy. He can feel the mud encasing his calves now, his stress beginning to outweigh his logic, and he looks up, panic rising in his throat. 

Charlie glances up, expecting to see a look of worry on Nick’s face. Instead, the other’s turned away from him, making a subtle mark in the trunk of the tree to track where they’ve been – something that he’s been doing as of late now that they’re crossing through more than one biome. He’s completely unaware that Charlie is no longer beside him.

“Nick!” Charlie calls out, his voice displaying the stress his body can’t.

Nick whips around, clearly confused as his eyes search for Charlie. Then their eyes meet, and that confusion morphs into immediate panic. Nick goes to step forward but Charlie puts his hands out in warning.

“No, you might get caught too,” Charlie says in a steady voice, not wanting the panic he’s feeling to show in his movements. The quicksand is already swallowing him at an alarming rate, despite him not moving a muscle – if he gives into the panic now, he’ll be underground within seconds. 

“Fuck,” Nick whispers in a hushed breath and Charlie can see the gears in his head turning as he tries to think of a plan. The mud being up to his mid-thigh now has Charlie’s hope dwindling. “Hold on. Okay, let me think.”

“Nick, I think that you should go,” Charlie replies, his voice full of defeat though he forces a sad smile. “I think I’m really stuck, and I don’t want you wasting your energy to get me out. You need to conserve it.” 

Nick shakes his head in disagreement. “I can’t just leave you, Charlie!” he argues, his brows furrowing in determination. “Just give me a second.” 

Charlie groans and rubs his face with his hands in agitation. “Nick–”

“Leaving you behind isn’t an option!” Nick snaps harshly, frustration evident in his tone. 

Charlie bristles at the sharpness in his words and even though he’s in no position to be angry, the emotion swirls in his chest anyways. “Well, if you’re gonna do something, then fucking hurry up!” 

He watches as Nick quickly scans the surrounding area around them, his eyes darting between the trees, Charlie and the ground. “Throw me your bag,” he instructs. 

Charlie doesn't question it, and manages to take off the bag just in time as the quicksand has reached his hips. He throws the bag along with his bow and quiver of arrows, feeling his body plummet further into the forming hole just as Nick catches the items with ease. He rips the bag open, quickly pulling out the netting and rope. 

Charlie glances down at himself, noting the quicksand is now above his navel. The dirt around him is cold and unforgiving, his body instinctively wanting to shiver. However, that’s going to be what sends him under, so Charlie has to fight it with every ounce of energy that he has. “Nick,” Charlie warns. “Hurry!”

“Hang on!” Nick grits between his teeth as he haphazardly ties the netting and the rope together. Once finished, he throws Charlie the netting part, which Charlie takes hold of immediately. Nick then walks backwards, picking up his spear as he makes his way over to a tree. He wraps his end of the rope around the spear as he walks around the tree once, securing the spear at the back so the tree is now serving as an anchor. 

The rope lifts off the ground with the tension Nick has made, and Charlie sees Nick take a deep breath before taking hold of the rope in between the tree and Charlie. 

“I’m gonna pull on three, okay?” he calls out. “Just don’t let go, whatever you do!” 

“Wouldn't dream of it!” Charlie replies, making sure the netting is tightly looped around his arms and hands. He’s trying not to panic, or breathe too quickly, but that’s pretty difficult given the quicksand is now reaching his chest. The pressure of the compact mud constricting him means he’s finding it alarmingly hard to inhale. 

“One, two… three!”

Nick digs his feet into the ground, a strained groan escaping him as he pulls on the rope with all of his strength. It barely does anything, and Charlie is about to call out to Nick again, when he begins to feel a shift in the pressure against his chest. He looks down to see a streak of mud along his shirt from where he’s beginning to emerge, the quicksand now back to being above his navel.

It’s working! 

Charlie looks up to see Nick slowly pull the rope towards him, his biceps bulging underneath the fabric of his sleeves as he keeps a hold of the rope. Charlie silently prays and begs for Nick to keep going and stay strong as the older boy continues to put one hand in front of the other. 

Slowly, Charlie feels the mud loosen around his abdomen. He tries to wiggle his legs, but they’re still pretty deep with no signs of moving just yet. 

“It’s working!” Charlie shouts, hoping it encourages Nick. “Keep going!”

Nick takes another deep breath, his cheeks puffing out with the effort and his face turning scarlett. Just like he hoped, Charlie’s voice seems to give Nick extra energy. He begins to wrap the excess rope around his hand, the ground beneath his feet becoming more disrupted with the amount of force he is using to stabalise himself with every pull. 

It only takes a couple of more tugs from Nick before the quicksand has gone back down to Charlie's knees, meaning he can sort of move them back and forth. 

“Almost there!” Charlie tells Nick. 

“Fuck!” Nick cries out as he pulls once more. His face is covered in a thin veil of sweat from exertion, and his chest is expanding quickly with each breath. His entire body is almost horizontal with how much he’s having to pull, a prominent vein appearing along Nick’s neck.

With one last yell, Nick yanks the rope, causing Charlie to be pulled forward onto steady ground, finally free of the quicksand. He lets go of the netting and quickly crawls over to Nick, who has collapsed onto the ground with loose rope falling off his arms. 

“Nick?” Charlie calls out. “Are you okay?” He pushes himself onto his knees and looks down at the exhausted boy before him.

Nick’s chest is heaving. His hair is stuck to his forehead, while his eyes are closed and jaw is set. At the sound of Charlie's voice, he opens his eyes and lifts his head up off the ground. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replies quickly, pushing himself up to sit. “What about you?” He shakes off the rope and immediately grabs Charlie’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?” 

“No, I’m okay,” Charlie tries to smile, “I’m just a bit damp, that’s all.” 

Nick relaxes after a few moments of looking Charlie over, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He pulls Charlie into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Charlie hugs back instantly, tucking his head into the crook of Nick’s neck. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Charlie whispers. 

“I wasn’t going to let you die,” Nick responds, his voice breaking a little at the end.

Charlie squeezes Nick’s shoulders before breaking away and sitting back on his heels. 

“I forget how strong you are sometimes,” Charlie says as he studies Nick’s face, trying to lighten the mood. “Stubborn but strong.”

Thankfully, Nick lets out a little laugh and lifts his eyes to meet Charlie’s, propping himself up on his elbows and causing his biceps to flex in the process. “I guess all that training paid off.” 

Charlie merely nods and smiles, the two of them falling silent as they catch their breath. As they sit there, Charlie feels the mud caking his body beginning to dry, leaving crusty flakes of dirt in its wake. He grimaces and forces himself to come to a stand. “We should find a pond or creek to wash up in. I feel absolutely disgusting right now.”

He notices a faint twinkle in Nick’s eyes as the older boy looks him up and down. His lips part to say something, but he seemingly decides against it. Instead, he nods in agreement, standing up as well. As Nick wipes his hands on his trousers, a hiss of pain escapes him. 

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks immediately, the worry in his voice evident.

Nick looks down at his hands and winces. “Rope burn.” He turns his hands over to show Charlie. 

Charlie gasps when he sees patches of skin peeling on Nick’s palm and fingers, with some of them even bright red and on the verge of bleeding. “Oh my god!”

“It’s fine!” Nick reassures quickly with a smile. “It doesn't really hurt. Only when I rub it, I suppose. I just need water to clean it out, so a creek would be great.” 

“I think I remember seeing one up top, near the cherry blossom biome.”

With a final exchange of definitive nods, they grab their bags and weapons and set off. They walk side by side in silence, both of them clearly feeling the weight of exhaustion. It’s not surprising, given what they just went through, but Charlie can feel his limbs become heavier every few steps. He tries to occupy his mind with other things; whether they’ve walked around the entire arena yet, how many tributes are left, how long they have actually been in the Games. He always sort of believed that he would be able to keep track, but because of how much he’s experienced, the days have blurred together into one big myriad of memories, nightmares and flashbacks. 

Every time he blinks, a snippet of Nick using every ounce of force within him appears. He tries to not dwell on the vision for too long because acknowledging how attractive that was feels inappropriate considering the circumstances. 

Deep down though, he knows that if he was watching the Games, he probably would have swooned at the sight. 

Eventually, as the sun shines down on them, Charlie hears the gentle trickling of water nearby. He puts a hand on Nick’s bicep to grab his attention before heading in the direction of the sound. 

Sure enough, there’s a gentle slope, decorated by mossy rocks and tree roots, with a small waterfall running down the middle. Charlie follows the path of the waterfall and gasps when he sees the stream open up into a creek, just like they wanted. 

“It’s so… beautiful,” Nick whispers in awe as he takes it all in. 

“Yeah,” Charlie agrees. “They know how to make the nature in the arena feel realistic, that’s for sure.” 

Without waiting for Nick’s reply, Charlie sets down his bag, quiver and bow against one of the boulders near the edge of the water. He leans down and tests it with his fingers. 

“Oh my god, it’s warm,” he exclaims, turning back to face Nick with a grin. 

Nick smiles back and eagerly makes his way over, placing his own bag and weapons next to Charlie’s. “Come on, then,” he says with a coy grin. “What are we waiting for?” 

Charlie stands up and immediately enters the water. At first, it’s a bit of an odd sensation considering he’s still wearing his boots and socks, but if he’s honest with himself, it doesn’t matter in the slightest. The feeling of relief as he wades into the water is something he never expected to feel again. He used to spend summers jumping into similar rivers and ponds back in 12 with Tao and Olly – Tori would stay closer to land, not being the biggest fan of swimming. 

He hears the water ripple from behind as Nick follows, quickly catching up thanks to his larger stride. Charlie’s fingers dance through the water as he slowly turns around to face Nick. The older boy has his hands submerged, his eyes closed in bliss as he gently cleans his rope burns. 

“How do your hands feel now?” Charlie asks. 

Nick blinks his eyes open at the sound of Charlie’s voice. “Much better,” he replies with a relieved sigh. 

“That’s good.” Charlie smiles, then looks around at the surrounding area. He takes in the canopy of trees; the occasional branch is hanging low with the number of leaves growing from it, the way they move with the gentle breeze, creating a relaxing rustling sound. 

“You know,” Nick’s voice sounds. “I’m a bit surprised it’s this shallow. I thought there’d be bits you could… Woah!”

Charlie spins round to see the water splashing up and rippling outwards in the exact spot where Nick was standing. Charlie’s stomach flips instantly. “Nick?!” He begins to wade forward, hoping that he’ll be able to see some type of indication of Nick’s existence. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to look far, because Nick reappears, bursting through the surface and gasping for air.

Charlie jumps back, his hand clutching his chest as his heart thumps rapidly against his ribcage. “Fucking hell!” 

“Well!” Nick pants as he uses his hands to scrape back his sopping wet hair from his eyes. “I found the deep end!” 

Charlie just stares in disbelief. Nick had disappeared then reappeared quicker than he could shoot an arrow at a bird. “You- I- What–” Charlie stutters. 

Nick and Charlie’s eyes meet, and they instantly burst into laughter. 

A few minutes pass until they finally calm down, clutching their stomachs with laughing cramps. Nick runs a hand over his face again – whether it's to wipe away water droplets or tears, Charlie isn’t sure – and takes a deep breath. 

“That has to be one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to me,” Nick groans. 

Charlie snorts. “I’m kind of annoyed I wasn’t facing you when it happened.”

Nick merely rolls his eyes and splashes the water in Charlie's direction. 

“Hey!” Charlie yelps. 

“What?” Nick teases. “I don’t think it’s fair for me to be the only one drenched.” He starts to slowly walk towards Charlie with a devilish smirk on his face. 

“Nick, I swear if you–” 

Charlie is interrupted by Nick slamming into him, pulling him underwater and into the deep end. 

The shock of hitting the water at such a force means Charlie has to take a couple of seconds to adjust to the feeling of weightlessness. He opens his eyes slowly and they sting slightly to begin with, but they soon adjust. At first, all he can see are bubbles racing to the surface above, but they quickly dissipate and Charlie is met with the adorable sight of Nick, his auburn hair fanned out around his head, grinning at him, allowing his cheeky, boyish side to come out. Charlie can’t help but grin back and shake his head.

For the first time in, well, forever, Charlie dares to think that he feels free. There’s physically nothing holding him down, and staring at Nick, he starts to feel like he could do anything. As their limbs waft back and forth to keep them under for as long as their lungs allow, Charlie allows himself to forget all the shit in the world, all the death and panic that awaits for them above the surface. He allows himself to be fully present in this moment as he and Nick stare at each other.

No words are needed, not that they could speak underwater if they tried. 

Just as Charlie thinks it couldn’t be more idyllic, the sun begins to shine into the water, cascading them in shimmering light. 

It makes Nick look ethereal.

The boy in question pulls Charlie out of his daze by pointing upwards and slowly letting his body rise to the surface. Charlie quickly follows suit, as his lungs have started to itch for more air. 

Once he returns to the real world, he’s gasping for air and his usually curly hair is long and straight, most of it covering his face. Charlie can’t help but giggle loudly, causing his body to shake. He takes a step forward to try and balance himself, but the realisation that he can't see makes him put his hands out. 

Luckily, a giggling Nick swoops in and takes hold of his elbows, allowing Charlie to plant his feet on the riverbed. He uses his fingers to pull the hair to the sides and to wipe away any excess water out of his eyes. As his giggles die down, he squints his eyes open, and can't help but gasp. He is immediately met with Nick’s face a lot closer than expected, a soft smile on his lips. Their eyes meet, both wide and sparkling with excitement, their breathing heavy but synchronised. 

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” Charlie warns with no real heat behind the words. 

Mischief glints in Nick’s eyes. “I’d like to see you try.” 

Then, Charlie feels that pull from before. The urge to get even closer to Nick suddenly rushes through him like a tidal wave. He’s seconds away from giving in and closing the gap – he’s so sure that Nick feels the same energy between them. He’s not sure what it is exactly, or if it’s the smartest thing to act on, but there’s no point in denying it for much longer.

Charlie’s saving grace is the sudden appearance of a parachute as it floats into view, the tinkling noise garbled by the water. They both blink in surprise, and Nick lets go of Charlie as they take a step back. Nick gingerly grabs the strings of the parachute, lifting it up as he studies the container with fascination. Charlie had been so caught up in the moment with Nick that he hadn’t even registered the parachute’s arrival.

Charlie watches carefully as Nick pops the container open and takes out the note inside. 

Nick snorts unexpectedly, causing Charlie to flinch slightly. “Put some bloody clothes on, D,” he reads.

“Darcy,” Charlie whispers. “She got me a sponsor?” 

Nick looks up at him proudly. “I think you mean you got yourself a sponsor,” he replies. 

Charlie feels his cheeks heat up in a blush. “What did she send?” 

Nick looks back in the container and his smile widens. “I think we got new t-shirts.” 

Charlie can’t help but smile, though the parachute and mention of sponsors brings reality crashing down on him. They’re waist-deep in a stream, the cherry blossom trees around them offering minimal cover. The arena's dangers are ever-present, and he knows they need to find secure shelter before nightfall.

"We should get out of the water," Charlie suggests, his voice low. "Find somewhere safe to set up camp."

Nick nods in agreement, his features turning solemn as he seems to be having the same realisation. "Let's head deeper into the cherry blossom biome then. The trees are denser there so we might find a spot that's easier to defend."

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick and Charlie haul their gear and begin making their way towards the forest, moving swiftly but cautiously while staying close to the tree line. They keep their ears tuned for any sound that might signal danger. The arena is eerily quiet, save for the faint rustle of wind through the cherry blossoms and the occasional chirp of a bird – or something imitating one.

I forget how quiet it gets at this point in the Games, with so few people left, Nick thinks idly. It adds a new, far more complex layer of fear to the atmosphere.

After a while, they stumble upon a small clearing surrounded by particularly large cherry blossom trees. The branches intertwine overhead, forming a natural shelter as the pink blossom petals scatter along the dry ground. It portrays a rather natural setting, much to his surprise.

However, the longer Nick stares, the more he begins to see the faults in their surroundings: the petals are too pink and vibrant to be crafted by nature, the tree trunks far more thick than the average cherry blossom tree. Although the area offers a good vantage point to spot any approaching threats while also giving them an added layer of secrecy, it’s just another reminder of how cruel the Gamemakers can be in their design.

Nick raises a hand, motioning for Charlie to stop. He crouches low, scanning the area for any signs of traps, especially after the quicksand fiasco they dealt with earlier. Once he’s as sure as he can be that it’s safe, he gives a curt nod. “This’ll do,” Nick deems, his joints popping as he stands up. 

He tries to ignore the fact that, as an eighteen year old, his joints should definitely not be making those noises yet. 

“We’ve got cover from above, a decent line of sight, and enough space to set up without feeling cramped,” he continues, glancing back at Charlie.

The younger boy nods, setting down the container and retrieving the t-shirts. "Let's change into these dry clothes before we freeze to death,” he says quickly, handing Nick a balled up piece of fabric. 

Nick unties his jacket from his waist and is about to take his shirt off when he sees a flash of olive skin in his peripheral vision. Nick freezes and his hands still as his throat runs dry. He knows that it’s wrong to look at Charlie while the other’s undressing. While in normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be weird for allies – especially ones of the same sex – to change shirts in front of each other…

These aren’t normal circumstances.

And how could they be? Nothing about Nick’s reaction feels remotely normal. His mouth is dry, as if it’s been stuffed with sand, and his heart is pounding so fiercely that he’s half-convinced it might burst right out of his chest. The chill in the air does nothing to cool the fire burning in his cheeks as he stands frozen, eyes fixed on Charlie. A storm of butterflies erupts in his stomach, their frantic flutters making it hard to think straight. Nick’s breath hitches when his gaze falls on Charlie’s exposed hip bones, sharp and defined against his lean frame. His lips part instinctively, though no words come, just the quiet sound of his shuddering breath as he watches the other boy turn.

It’s ridiculous, Nick tells himself, how easily he’s affected by this – by Charlie. 

How his movements seem to draw Nick’s attention without even trying, whether it be during the Games or before they stepped into the arena. In fact, the more Nick thinks about it, the more he realises he’s been bewitched by this boy since Nick saw Charlie’s reaping. He feels his throat tighten, a mixture of embarrassment and longing creating a lump. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about Charlie like this, not here, not now, but his brain refuses to cooperate.

As Charlie tosses the shirt onto the ground his biceps flex with casual ease, but Nick’s focus shifts to his ally’s back. The quiet simplicity of the moment is abruptly shattered as Nick’s gaze catches on the jagged white lines carved across the skin of Charlie’s shoulder blades. His heart that was once rapidly beating is now slowing down, hanging heavier and heavier by the second. The sight roots him to the spot, unable to look away, yet filled with a growing sense of sorrow and anger as he studies them.

The setting sun filters through the trees, acting like a spotlight along Charlie’s back. Nick’s eyes trace the thick, uneven marks, their deliberate placement unmistakable. The pattern is too precise, too intentional, to be anything but the result of a whip. A cold knot of dread forms in Nick’s stomach, squishing the butterflies in the process, as the image of Charlie being whipped crosses his mind. 

Are those from a public whipping? What could he have done?

The fuzzy feeling in his body is long gone by the time Charlie puts the new shirt on, a grim feeling left in its wake. His stomach churns at the idea of a Peacekeeper’s whip tainting Charlie’s skin, a whip that would have been Nick’s future had he not volunteered for the Games. For a second, he’s thrown back to the day of the reaping, when he and Sahar were walking back from the field.

‘And as a Peacekeeper, you could move districts too,’ Sahar’s voice echoes in his mind. At the time, it was a sweet sentiment; a genuine hope that Nick would get to live a cosy life. Now, as Nick forces his eyes to look away, he can’t help but feel bile rise in his throat. The unwelcome image of him being the one holding the whip that hurt Charlie flashes across his mind and he thinks he might actually be sick. 

Charlie, completely unaware of Nick’s inner turmoil, lets out a quiet sigh as the shirt settles into place, pulling the hem down and straightening it with a quick tug.

"Fits well, doesn’t it?" he says, his voice light, though his tone carries a subtle undercurrent of pride, as if he’s testing the waters of Nick’s reaction.

Nick swallows hard, snapping his eyes back up to meet Charlie’s. He forces a nod, his voice catching as he mutters, “Yeah... looks good.” It’s a pitiful response, and he knows it, but it’s all he can manage with his thoughts in disarray

Charlie frowns as he looks Nick up and down. “Nick, you didn’t even change.” 

He tries to think of an excuse, but his brain is no longer working the way it should, and the next words out of his mouth don’t feel like his own.

“What happened?” Nick asks, his voice full of the sadness that he was trying to hide. Charlie’s eyebrows disappear under his curls as surprise crosses his face. 

“Oh. You, er, saw them?” he asks shyly.

Nick can only nod, no longer trusting himself to speak. 

Charlie smacks his lips quietly, his shoulders tensing as he hesitates for a second. “Well… I… I guess I broke the law.” He shrugs after a moment, walking over to the base of a tree and sitting against it. Nick shuffles out of his shirt and puts the new one on, not getting a chance to bask in the softness and cleanliness of the fabric as he’s far too focused on Charlie right now. He awkwardly sits down next to Charlie, propping his arms up on his knees.

“You don’t have to talk about it. I-I shouldn’t have asked–” Nick begins but Charlie shakes his head. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Charlie responds in a tight voice. “I should probably talk about it at some point, right?” 

Nick presses his lips together, slowly glancing at Charlie. The sun’s almost completely set now, the light of dusk illuminating Charlie’s features. “Yeah, I… I guess so.”

“So, um, you know how hunting is, like, completely illegal?” Charlie murmurs. When Nick nods, he continues. “That’s what I did in Twelve. How I provided for both Tori and Olly after our parents died. We had to be pretty resourceful, especially Tori and me, to afford living on our own. The community helped where they could, and I learned through the grapevine that there were certain Pe–” his voice paused and he looked around, as if remembering that even though they were alone, they were alone with the rest of Panem watching. “People who would pay good money for fresh game. 

“My dad taught me how to use a bow when I was younger, though it was more for self defense than illegal activities, and I decided to give it a shot. Not only was it our source of income during the winter but it put food on our table.” Charlie chews the inside of his cheek as his eyes drift off into the distance, almost like he’s reliving it. “I quickly built a good rapport with some people throughout Twelve that would buy whatever I brought. Tori would get necessities by tutoring. Sometimes it would be medicines, other times clothing. The money that I got would go towards anything Olly needed, whether it be school supplies or new shoes.”

Tears prick at the corners of Nick’s eyes, and he physically has to swallow his emotions as they start to bubble up. He has to fight every urge to touch Charlie’s hand with his, to pull Charlie into a hug. Instead, he encouragingly nods. Charlie’s eyes are becoming glassier as he talks but his voice remains steady. 

“We did that for the first few years after our parents’ deaths. I got comfortable with it, maybe even cocky. And then, one day, I knocked on the wrong door.”

Nick’s lips part as he inhales sharply, his brows pinching together in sadness. His hand moves of its own accord, slowly coming to rest on Charlie’s knee. 

“A Peacekeeper opened the door and saw the squirrel I had in hand. He asked where I got it, and I just… I ran. I was fourteen at the time with no parents and nowhere to go. I couldn’t take them back to Tori and Olly of course, so I took off towards the town square. It took them about twenty minutes to catch me, and they brought me to the centre of the square where the local whipping post was.”

“Charlie,” Nick whispers, his voice wobbling. The image of a young, wide-eyed Charlie crying as he got shackled to the post absolutely obliterates any emotional wall Nick still has standing. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Charlie asks, and though the words are harsh, his tone only carries sadness. “They didn’t care. The law is the law, orphan or not. The worst part is I sold to half of the fuckers that were there that day. And all they did was watch. I got fifteen lashings. Probably would’ve been more, had Tori not stopped them.”

“God, this country is so fucked,” Nick hisses, leaning his head back against the tree. 

“What do you expect from a nation that likes watching kids die on TV for fun?” Charlie asks dryly. “They act like the only kids dying are the ones Panem sees in the Games. Meanwhile, there are kids dying in their own districts every day.”

Nick leans forward slowly, his eyes meeting Charlie’s as his brows furrow. He’s never heard anyone speak about Panem that way besides his mother, Sahar, and himself. He blinks a couple of times, studying Charlie’s face before a ghost of a smile graces his lips. 

We’re not that different at all, are we?

“Yeah,” Nick murmurs softly, looking back at his feet. “You’re right about that one.” 

They fall quiet, the soft sounds of the leaves being the only thing that fills the air between them.

“Nick,” Charlie asks hesitantly, his voice as quiet as a mouse. Nick tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he looks at Charlie. The fading light casts long shadows across Charlie’s face, accentuating the sharpness of his features and painting him in shades of mystery and vulnerability.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you leave me? Earlier, when I was trapped in the quicksand, I told you to go. But you didn’t. Why?”

Nick knows he could easily fall back on the excuse, “We’re allies,” the words poised on the edge of his tongue like a shield. But as he opens his mouth to speak, he stops himself.

Charlie just bared his soul. He didn’t have to tell me how he got those scars – he could’ve lied, or brushed it off, but he didn’t. He was honest with me.

The realisation settles heavily in Nick’s chest, a mixture of admiration and guilt tangling together. The openness, the raw vulnerability Charlie had shown, demands more than a simple platitude in return. It demands sincerity. And Nick suddenly feels that, for the first time in a long time, he owes someone that much.

"Because..." Nick’s voice falters, his breath catching as his tongue is busy tying itself into a knot. He forces himself to push through, though every word feels like it weighs a ton. "Because I don’t want to lose you, Charlie. I refuse to, actually."

The confession tumbles out as a new wave of tears threatens to blur his vision. His heart is thrumming wildly, caught somewhere between panic and anticipation. Charlie’s response is silence at first, his eyes shifting towards the ground as his features harden. His lips purse together and he gnaws at his lower lip as he seemingly mulls Nick’s words over. 

Did I really just say that out loud? I don’t have the right to lay this kind of burden on him, Nick thinks, his chest tightening. The burden of my feelings, of everything I’ve kept bottled up. 

“You have a reason to go home, Charlie,” Nick continues, his voice quiet and steady. He’s thankful he doesn’t verbally give away the absolute panic that his body is feeling. “I don’t.” As he finishes, the tears fall down his face and he wipes them quickly with the back of his hand, sniffling. “Your family needs you.”

“And your family doesn’t?” Charlie asks, his tone harsh and sharp like a knife. To Nick’s surprise, Charlie looks like he’s on the verge of tears too. His lower lip is slightly quivering and his hands are balled into fists. 

“No, not really,” Nick murmurs, though he knows it’s not entirely true. “They have David. He’s the Victor of the family and because of him, they’re set for life. It doesn’t matter if I survive or die, they’ll be well taken care of either way.” He can almost feel the weight of Sahar’s glare in the back of his mind, followed by the sharp reprimand Sarah would give if she were there.

“It matters to me,” Charlie replies firmly. 

Nick’s entire body goes rigid, his breath catching as he stares at Charlie. His mind races, the confusion settling in like a haze as he tries to make sense of the unexpected response. At the same time, something else blooms within him – a warmth that spreads from his chest, slow and steady, making his heart beat faster. 

“What?” Nick breathes.

“It matters to me whether you survive or not.” Charlie’s voice is steady now, his earlier hesitation replaced by a quiet strength. His gaze holds Nick’s, unwavering and unflinching, as though he’s revealing something he’s held back for too long. His words carry a weight of truth, and Nick feels a ripple of something deep within him – a pull, something that makes his chest ache.

Charlie continues, his voice softer but no less determined. “When we first became allies, I didn’t know what to expect. I thought maybe you'd just be another person I’d either kill or, more likely be killed by.” He shifts slightly, the words coming out more carefully now, as if he’s sorting through everything he’s learned about Nick. “But you proved me wrong.You’ve shown me something different: kindness, compassion… things I thought I’d never experience again once I entered this arena.”

Charlie’s eyes, usually guarded, now reflect something else – something soft but unwavering. He’s looking at Nick like he sees him, truly sees him, and Nick feels his throat tighten, unsure how to respond. Charlie shuffles so that he’s fully facing Nick from the side now, his knees brushing against Nick’s thigh. 

“You don’t deserve to die,” Charlie whispers, his voice shaking slightly, but the conviction in it is undeniable. “Not just because of what you've done for me, but because of who you are. You don’t deserve to die thinking you’re alone in this. Because you’re not. Not anymore,” he promises, and Nick can feel the sincerity his words hold; Nick savours this honesty that’s just for him. 

A tear slips down Charlie’s cheek, his eyes flickering to Nick’s lips for the briefest of moments, and that’s all it takes to awaken a need in Nick he’s never truly felt before. Kissing someone has never been at the forefront of his thoughts, let alone something he’s yearned for. The only kiss he’s ever shared was with Sahar, back when they were twelve. He remembers the awkwardness of it, both of them unsure if it was something they even wanted, only kissing each other because of the relentless peer pressure surrounding them. Nick still recalls the knot in his stomach, worried that it might ruin their friendship. But Sahar had brushed it off with a laugh, and her confidence encouraged him to let it go too.

This moment however, feels nothing like that.

When Charlie’s eyes meet his again, there’s a glimmer of something unspoken, a silent plea, and that’s all Nick needs. Without thinking, his hand moves, tentative but desperate as his trembling fingers cup Charlie’s jaw. The touch is gentle at first, but then Charlie leans into it, his lips parting ever so slightly, and that’s when Nick knows: he knows they’re both on the same page, that this is happening, that everything they’ve gone through has led to this moment.

Nick’s tongue darts out to wet his lips nervously as he inches closer, his breath mingling with Charlie’s. His eyes flutter shut, and for a fleeting second, the same fear he’d felt six years ago threatens to creep in. But the moment their lips meet, the worry of everything going wrong between them leaves his body as their lips connect because of how right it feels. The kiss is soft at first, as if both of them are scared the other will break from one wrong move. But then it turns into something real; Nick feels Charlie’s breath against his mouth, and the warmth of him spreads like wildfire. 

The kiss lingers, tender and slow, as if neither of them want to break it. But as the moment of stillness continues, a subtle panic creeps into the back of Nick’s mind. 

Why is Charlie not moving? Should I move? How is this supposed to work? What am I doing? 

The panic fights through the yearning of Nick’s heart and his body moves before he can ground himself and breaks the kiss. “Sorry,” Nick whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m so–” 

Before he can continue, a hand cups his jaw and he is pulled back in with some force, and Charlie’s lips are against his once more. 

There’s no hesitation this time. 

He feels Charlie’s hand move to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him to stay, and Nick lets himself be pulled in. He deepens the kiss as his free hand snakes around Charlie’s waist, losing himself in how Charlie feels against him, and in that moment, he finally allows himself to believe that there might just be something worth fighting for after all.

Chapter Text

Charlie’s heart is thumping against his chest as his lungs scream for fresh air. He reluctantly slows his movements, his and Nick’s lips eventually separating. Nick’s arm is still tightly wrapped around Charlie’s waist, as if he’s scared to let go. Charlie has his fingers threaded through Nick’s hair, which is surprisingly soft considering the lack of products in the arena. Charlie scratches his fingertips against Nick’s scalp, causing the latter to let out a soft groan of approval. 

Charlie inhales deeply, keeping his eyes closed but his forehead still resting against Nick’s. As he breathes out, he feels Nick’s arm loosen and a hand falls to his hip. Nick’s other hand slowly traces its way down Charlie’s jaw and along the side of his neck, leaving a hot tingling in its wake. Charlie lets one of his own hands fall down to Nick’s chest, and he can faintly feel Nick’s own heart beating quickly. Charlie can’t help but smile at the obvious fact that Nick has had a similar reaction to the kiss. 

Finally, Charlie finds it in himself to open his eyes. He first sees Nick’s chest quickly rising and falling. 

“That was…” Nick says hesitantly, barely above a whisper. 

Surprising? Expected? Needed? Amazing? Incredible? Breathtaking? Indescribable? The only thing I’ll be able to think about?

A thousand words race through Charlie’s mind as he tries to think of how to reply, but nothing seems to match how he feels about that kiss. 

My first kiss, Charlie quickly realises. 

“Yeah,” is all Charlie can reply with.

He looks up at Nick, who has a slightly dazed look on his face. He gazes down at Charlie with a lopsided smile appearing on his slightly reddened lips. Charlie immediately feels himself blush, and he has to look away again. Everything is just too intense all of a sudden.

A gentle breeze suddenly rustles the trees around them, causing Charlie to involuntarily shiver. 

“Are you cold?” Nick asks instantly. 

Before Charlie can reply, Nick has removed his hands to reach over and grab Charlie's jacket. He wraps it around Charlie’s shoulders and starts rubbing his biceps as he tries to generate some warmth for Charlie’s body. 

“Nick.” Charlie can’t help but chuckle softly. He takes Nick’s hands in his own to make sure he has the older boy’s attention. Nick looks between Charlie’s face and their hands with surprise. “I’m honestly fine.” 

“Oh,” Nick replies sheepishly, a blush rising to his cheeks. 

“Thank you, though,” Charlie adds with a genuine smile. 

With one squeeze of Nick’s hands, Charlie lets go and puts his arms into his jacket. “Should we set a fire?”

Nick slowly shakes his head with furrowed brows. “We probably shouldn’t. Whoever’s left will be looking for someone to do that. It’s one of the first strategies we’re taught in training; look for smoke or flickering light and there will most likely be a vulnerable tribute.”

Charlie swallows thickly at the reminder that even though it may feel like they are alone, others, including Harry, are still somewhere out there. “That makes sense,” he replies dejectedly.  

“You can come closer to me,” Nick says after a few moments. “Like last night. It seemed to work, right?” 

Charlie looks up to see Nick nibble on his lower lip in anticipation. 

Is Nick nervous? Why would he be nervous? We literally just kissed, and we cuddled earlier. This is fine, Charlie reasons internally. It actually did help with the cold.

“Yeah, okay.” Charlie nods. 

As Charlie shuffles closer, Nick shrugs on his jacket and bundles up their old t-shirts, stuffing them inside a bag to make some kind of a pillow. Nick lays down on his side and automatically lifts an arm. Charlie easily settles against Nick’s chest and lets out a soft sigh as he feels his body relax into Nick’s embrace. Just like before, Nick snakes a loose arm around Charlie’s body, the other already in place beneath Charlie’s head. 

As the sky slowly darkens, neither of them say anything. Charlie doesn’t even feel the need to speak. It’s comfortable and he even begins to feel the part of him that’s always on edge fade away. Nick’s arms encase him in a feeling of security, which he never expected to feel inside the arena.

Charlie can’t help but think back to that kiss. Nick’s touch was gentle and careful as he held Charlie’s face in his hand. His lips were surprisingly soft, never being too much or harsh. 

It was… pretty perfect. 

Charlie sighs as the warmth of the memory floods through him, the details becoming clearer with each thought. Now that he’s thinking about it with an almost clear mind, he’s realising that Nick took control of that kiss. A heavy feeling suddenly creeps into the pit of Charlie's stomach, which is stupid because he has no right to feel any type of way about the possibility of Nick kissing other people. 

He tries to let the feeling go, but it keeps gnawing away at his inside. 

He has to ask. 

“Nick?” Charlie whispers.

Nick hums in reply, sounding like he’s on the precipice/verge of sleep. 

“Have you… ever kissed anyone before?” 

Nick’s thumb that was drawing circles on the back of Charlie’s hand stops suddenly, and Charlie instantly hates himself. 

I should’ve left it. I don’t even know if I want to know.

“Technically, yes,” Nick eventually replies. 

“Technically?” Charlie’s heart thuds loudly in his ears as he waits for the answer.

Nick sighs heavily, tightening his arm around Charlie as he shuffles closer. Charlie can feel Nick’s warm breath hit the back of his neck which is tantalising, but also sends a shiver down his spine. 

“When we were eleven, me and Sahar were sick of feeling left out. Everyone in our class wouldn’t stop talking about what it felt like to kiss someone, so we thought we would kiss each other.” He lets out a little laugh. “It was the most awkward thing I’ve ever experienced. It was over within a few seconds. We could barely look at each other normally afterwards because we kept laughing, and we quickly agreed that we were better off as best friends.”

Charlie lets out a breath and allows himself to find the funny side of the story. “That’s kind of cute for a first kiss,” he says. 

“To be honest, I don’t think I count it as a kiss,” Nick replies. “I’d rather count our kiss as my first.”

Charlie’s eyes widen in the darkness. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he finds himself confessing, his voice practically a whisper. 

He feels Nick smile against the skin on the back of his neck. “We can officially be each other’s first kiss, then. How’s that?” 

Charlie smiles and closes his eyes. “I suppose that’s okay,” he replies. 

And then, Nick presses a kiss to Charlie’s neck. “Good.” 

Charlie feels his skin tingle with Nick’s touch, and allows himself to give into the tiredness slowly making its way through his body. 

***

Charlie isn’t sure how long he sleeps for, but he wakes up to the booming of a cannon in the sky, causing him to sit up with panic. The sudden movement means that Nick is ripped out of his sleep as well, since his arms were still wrapped around Charlie. Before either of them can say anything, the sound of a second cannon follows moments after.

Charlie whips his head around and out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Nick has instinctively grabbed his combat knife from his pocket, ready to use it if needed. They both study the surrounding area for a few more moments before Charlie quickly concludes that they aren’t in immediate danger.

“I think we’re okay,” he says, placing a slightly shaky hand on Nick’s outstretched arm. 

Nick breathes out heavily and lowers his knife, sagging back against the tree trunk behind them. “I fucking hate this,” he spits. 

“Yeah, me too,” Charlie agrees as he runs a hand through his knotty hair.

“I wonder who it was,” Nick mumbles.

“I don’t want to think about it, to be honest,” Charlie replies.

“Me neither.”

Charlie feels a soft nudge to his arm and he looks up to see Nick standing above him with his hand outstretched. “Regardless, two cannons isn’t a good sign. I think we should go,” the taller boy says warily. 

Charlie nods once and takes Nick’s hand. When he stands, Nick annoyingly lets go. Charlie knows deep down that it’s probably not the smartest idea to walk around hand in hand, but he can’t help miss Nick’s touch instantly. 

They’ve not even taken a few steps before Nick speaks up again. “Now that I think of it, there’s not been back to back cannons in a while.” 

“Do you think that means something?” Charlie asks as he carefully steps over a fallen branch. 

“Maybe,” Nick replies from behind. “It could be that they hurt each other enough before they died, or it could be Capitol muttations, like the first event, or… something else entirely.” 

Charlie involuntarily shivers as anxiety courses down his spine. He keeps his eyes focused on the earth, which he quickly realises is a lot more uneven and rocky than usual. 

“Does the ground seem different to you?” Charlie calls out to Nick. 

“Different?” Nick replies, sounding confused. “How do you mean?”

“Like, it’s quite bumpy and there are a lot more tree roots to watch out for,” Charlie tries to explain. 

“You know, now that you mention it, I think you’re onto something. Just be wary.” Nick says softly, his brows furrowing together as his eyes flicker along the ground analytically, as if he’s seeing it in a whole new light. “We wouldn’t want another quicksand situation on our hands.” Charlie can tell Nick’s trying to add some humour to lighten their worries, but his tone falls flat. 

Charlie hops over a hole and lands with ease, taking a few steps forward to make room for Nick. He turns around to make sure Nick is close, when his eyes catch movement in the distance. 

He focuses his gaze, moving to the side to look around Nick. 

“Charlie?” Nick says from the opposite side of the hole. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Charlie takes a step forward. “There’s something moving over there.” 

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he slowly twists his head to follow Charlie’s concerned stare. 

“It looks like fog,” Nick muses. 

At Nick’s observation, Charlie realises that he’s right. The fog’s wispy edges curl along the ground as the dense clouds slither closer to them. 

“Nick, maybe you should come over here,” Charlie suggests, his voice shaking a little.

Nick nods silently and leaps over the hole to land next to Charlie, promptly turning around to face the fog. As the swirling mist becomes clearer, it moves over a patch of dandelions. Charlie’s eyes widen as they come back into view; the flowers are completely black and shrivelled up. 

It all clicks into place. 

“Event,” he blurts out. “It’s an event, Nick. We should go!” He pulls on Nick’s jacket sleeve urgently as he points towards the dead dandelions. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Nick agrees. 

Without wasting any more time, Charlie spins on his heel and begins to march forward. He hears Nick’s footsteps behind him, which encourages him to keep going, making sure to dodge all the natural debris on the ground.

Charlie can feel his heart beginning to beat a little harder due to the quick pace he’s settled into, and he can hear Nick’s breaths grow heavier, indicating that he too is feeling the exertion.

Then suddenly, Nick lets out a yelp that causes Charlie to immediately freeze. He spins around to see Nick holding himself up against the trunk of a tree. 

“Nick, are you okay?” Charlie asks quickly. 

“Yeah, I just lost my footing,” Nick grunts as he wiggles his leg a little. “And now my foot is stuck in this fucking branch-” 

“Do you need help?” Charlie begins to head back towards Nick but stops when Nick shakes his head. 

“No, I think I’ve almost got it.” Nick reaches down and tries to pry the branch off of his foot with one hand, supporting his ankle with the other.

Charlie watches anxiously, silently willing Nick to hurry up. He flicks his eyes back to the fog, and to his horror, it’s much closer than he anticipated. 

It’s almost reached Nick.

“Nick, the fog!” Charlie warns. 

Nick twists his head and immediately tries to free his foot faster. “Charlie, go! I’ll catch up with you!”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asks quickly, every instinct screaming at him to go help Nick.

Nick’s body jerks as his foot is finally freed, and that’s all Charlie needs to see to keep moving. 

Eventually, Charlie sees a different patch of trees up ahead and a surge of hope bursts in his chest. He forces his eyes back to his feet, just in time to see a small ledge only a few yards away. He has no choice but to trust himself blindly as he throws his body over the edge and somehow lands a few feet below, only taking a few steps to steady himself. He immediately breaks into a run and heads for the trees, which he now recognises as pine trees, huffing out a sigh of relief when he crosses the threshold a few strides later. He turns around with a smile forming on his face, expecting to see Nick behind him. 

But the older boy isn’t.

Charlie gasps and looks back at the ledge he just jumped from to see Nick suddenly coming to a halt, the fog slowly coming into view behind him. 

“Nick, just jump!” Charlie calls out urgently. 

Nick looks up, eyes wide as he takes a second to look behind him. The fog is dangerously close now, and Charlie watches with horror as Nick takes a step back. 

“Nick!” Charlie yells again, unable to hide the fear in his voice. 

Nick propels himself forward, but the fog is quicker, and it swallows him whole. 

“No!” Charlie whispers to himself, feeling his heart lurch into his throat. He steps back, shock and exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him, and he feels like his legs are made of jelly. He leans against a tree as he wills Nick to appear. But the fog keeps barrelling forward – closer to Charlie – who is frozen in place. 

Charlie closes his eyes tightly, preparing for whatever type of pain the fog might inflict upon him… 

But it doesn’t come. 

Charlie waits an extra few seconds, taking in a few deep breaths before slowly opening his eyes, not sure what to expect. 

His jaw goes slack with shock as he sees the fog climb upwards against an invisible wall in front of him, right where the cherry petals fade into pine needles. It blocks out the brightness of the sun for a few seconds and eerily dims the atmosphere around him. It’s almost as if the world has been desaturated, stripped of its overly vibrant colours.

Relief floods through his entire body, but it’s quickly replaced by worry at the fact Nick still hasn’t reappeared. 

“Nick?” Charlie cries out. He pushes off the tree trunk, taking a few tentative steps forward while listening for another cannon to go off.

Please don’t let there be a cannon. Please don’t let there be a cannon…

Finally, a shadow comes into view, becoming more visible with every step. In any other context, the sight would be like something out of a dream.

“Nick?” Charlie repeats, his voice almost a whisper. The figure doesn’t reply, which triggers a quiet alarm bell in the back of Charlie's mind. “Nick, are you okay?” 

Slowly, Nick makes his way through the wall and into the fog-less space, his chest heaving and his entire body tense as he stares at the ground. Other than that, he seems to have no injuries.

“Oh my god, Nick, you’re okay!” Charlie gasps. He begins to rush towards the older boy, his footsteps causing Nick’s head to snap up sharply. 

Charlie comes to a halt. 

Nick’s face is completely blank, devoid of any emotion. Not even a hint of recognition can be found in his eyes. The normal spark that twinkles in his hazel irises is nowhere to be found.

“What the…” Charlie inhales shakily. He watches as Nick reaches into his pocket for his knife, skilfully spinning it in his fingers whilst his dark eyes focus on Charlie.

“Nick, what’s going on?” Charlie asks nervously. “Are you okay?” 

Once again, Nick doesn’t reply and instead, takes a step towards Charlie.

“Nick, can you hear me?” Charlie asks, his voice shaking a little. He begins to step back with every step forward Nick takes. He’s never seen Nick, or anyone, act like this before. It’s almost as if Nick is in a trance, acting from muscle memory instead of logic.

Charlie’s grip tightens on his bow, an unnerving feeling in his gut warning him that he may have to use it. His eyes roam over Nick’s face, scanning for a sign that the boy he’s come to lo- know is in there somewhere.

However, he sees nothing.

A lump begins to form in the back of Charlie’s throat, a sob threatening to escape. “Nick, please,” he begs, even though he knows it's pointless. 

How do I get him out of this? 

Seconds pass where Nick just stares at Charlie with empty eyes, breathing harshly as his knife begins to twirl slightly faster. Charlie’s mind is spinning with it as he tries to find a way to fix this situation, to fix him.

That’s when Nick strikes, swiping forward with his knife.

Charlie’s eyes widen, and he only just dodges Nick’s attack in time by ducking to the side. His mouth opens in disbelief, and Charlie has half a mind to curse at Nick for almost hurting him but when Nick’s murderous eyes meet his, Charlie immediately begins to run, heading deeper into the pine trees. He doesn’t dare look back as that would slow him down. He knows he is a fast runner but Nick can be fast too and with whatever that fog has done to him, he could even be faster than normal. 

Charlie keeps his eyes focused on the path ahead and silently thanks the universe when he sees an opening, leading to the same creek they’d come across earlier. He runs towards it, pushing through the branches from the pine trees, knowing that they’ll probably hit Nick as they snap back into place. 

He winces when he hears Nick grunt in pain – as he expected – but Charlie keeps going.

He slows down when he reaches a small slope leading towards the shallow end of the creek so that he doesn't fall. Once he reaches level ground again, he sprints as fast as he can and leaps over the body of water. He lands awkwardly, feeling the pain of impact jolt through his legs. He lets out a strangled groan but pushes himself up, coming to a stand. He turns around just in time to see Nick reach the opposite side of the creek. For a brief moment, Charlie thinks he’s succeeded in shaking the other off. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath, watching Nick come to a stop as he notices the gap. He scowls at the water before him before looking up at Charlie with a stone cold glare. 

Whatever relief Charlie was beginning to feel vanishes in an instant as Nick backs up and effortlessly throws himself across the creek, landing a few feet away from Charlie. 

Shit. Shit shit shit!

Nick doesn't wait to attack this time and strikes with his right arm. 

Charlie brings up his bow, using both hands to support the metal as it collides with Nick’s wrist, causing the other to practically growl with pain. The knife he’s wielding falls out of his hand and clatters onto the ground.

Charlie takes that moment to run again but is yanked back when Nick grabs his arm. He yelps out in surprise and pain but manages to stay upright. He twists around, drops his bow and tries to take back control of the fist that Nick has in his grasp. He steps back to anchor himself and in a desperate attempt to free his arm, he jerks his elbow up to the sky. He grunts in frustration as Nick overpowers him, an unwelcome reminder of how strong the other boy is.

Another self-defence technique Charlie learned at the Training Centre pops into his head just then and he throws himself back onto the ground. Nick is now looming over him, teeth bared like a rabid animal as he pulls harshly and painfully at his arm once more. Charlie kicks his heel into Nick’s thigh, causing the larger boy’s leg to give way and loosening his grip slightly. Charlie’s able to yank his wrist free and quickly pulls his leg back, immediately kicking at Nick’s groin. 

“Sorry,” Charlie mutters as Nick winces in pain and stumbles back, falling to his side. Charlie uses the opportunity to scramble up to his feet once again, though his joints scream in protest from feeling weak and sore. 

Nick groans on the ground as he rolls onto his front. He blinks a couple of times and looks around before sputtering a cough. “Charlie?” he manages to say in a raspy voice.  

A shot of relief floods through Charlie’s body. “Nick?” he gasps. He cautiously makes his way back over to Nick as the other gets onto his hands and knees.

Nick blindly reaches out, and Charlie offers his hand, noticing Nick’s own is clammy and has a few spiky pieces of the forest floor stuck to his palm. Charlie winces at the sharp sting of the minuscule pieces attached to Nick that press into his skin but he ignores it. All that matters to him is making sure that Nick is okay.

As Nick comes to a stand, he keeps his eyes closed and grips onto Charlie as if he’s scared to let go. His free hand rubs his temple as Charlie comes to face him.

“Oh my god,” Charlie pants. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry for kicking you, but it was the only way–” 

“It’s fine,” Nick mumbles, shaking his head. 

Charlie breathes out another sigh of relief and can’t stop himself from pulling Nick into a hug. Nick freezes for a second, but eventually wraps his arms around Charlie, though they’re more hesitant than usual. Charlie revels in the moment regardless, all of his adrenaline slowly fading as the delayed response of anxiety and fear begins to replace it. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” Charlie whispers into Nick’s ear. 

Nick doesn’t respond, only tightening his grip around Charlie as he hooks his chin over Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie melts into the embrace, though he notices that as he exhales, Nick’s hold begins to tighten. At first he thought it was Nick’s way of silently apologising, but now, as he feels his chest being crushed against Nick’s, he’s not so sure.

“Nick, wait,” Charlie struggles out, laughing nervously. “You’re hugging me too tight.” 

But Nick doesn’t stop. 

Charlie’s panic from earlier returns tenfold as he realises Nick is still under the influence from the fog. He unwinds his arms from Nick’s torso and squeezes them in between their bodies, pushing against Nick’s abdomen with all the strength he can muster. 

Once again, his strength is nothing compared to Nick’s. He tries to punch Nick’s stomach but it doesn’t do much because of the angle he tries to hit from. His chest feels like it’s about to burst and he is properly gasping for air now.

“Nick,” he wheezes. “Please …”

Somehow, that seems to reach Nick as he loosens his arms. Charlie begins to cough, his eyes locking with Nick’s glassy ones as his face comes into view. Charlie feels Nick’s large hands on either side of his head. Charlie immediately tries to pry Nick’s hands off as they begin to squeeze again, a heavy pressure forming on either side of his brain. 

“Nick,” Charlie groans through gritted teeth, trying to dig his nails into Nick’s skin. “Snap out of it! This is just the fog messing with you!” 

Nick only replies with a strained grunt as he tries to squeeze Charlie’s head more. Charlie takes a few deep breaths as he prepares himself to attack Nick again. 

“You’ve left me no choice,” he mumbles before swiping his leg up and kneeing Nick in the crotch for a second time. 

With another pained yell, Nick immediately releases Charlie's head and doubles over. Charlie pushes himself away and stumbles backwards, blinking away the spots that had begun to form in his vision. He watches as Nick looks up, a malicious expression on his face as he wheezes harshly, his arms folding over his stomach in pain. 

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Charlie continues, panting heavily. “Remember who the real enemy is – they're why we’re here in the first place.” 

Nick bellows in response and Charlie can’t help but recoil at the sound. Nick suddenly straightens up, opening his eyes, and Charlie watches in horror as he pulls out another knife from his calf pocket. 

Before Charlie can try anything else, Nick throws the knife by the blade. Charlie’s eyes widen as he watches the knife spin in the air. Instinctively, Charlie leans back and winces, turning his head. He expects to feel the knife’s impact but instead, a warmth trickles down his temple. His eye begins to burn, and he wipes it with the back of his hand only to see bright red blood. 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on his injury though, as he hears Nick’s heavy steps get closer. Charlie wipes at his eye one more time before looking up to see Nick stop right in front of him. He forces himself to keep his eyes connected with Nick’s, hopelessly searching for any indication that his Nick is still in there somewhere. 

“Nick, come on,” Charlie mutters under his breath. “I can’t lose you. I-I need you.” 

The words seem to register in Nick’s mind as his movements stutter, a mixture of confusion and recognition in his eyes as he studies Charlie. His eyes begin to water as his nostrils flare, and it looks as if he can’t quite decide what to do.

But then it disappears as quickly as it came, and Nick’s eyebrows are drawn together as he cracks his neck, readying to attack once more. Charlie gasps and preemptively jumps to the side just as Nick swings his fist. Charlie sprints towards the water, shrugging off his backpack and quiver, mentally trying to figure out if he has something that could stop Nick without killing him.

Suddenly, he’s shoved to the side and onto the ground. Charlie wheezes due to the air being knocked out of him and tries to sit up, but Nick is already straddling him, pinning his arms to the ground on either side of his head. Charlie tries to twist his body, his legs thrashing around in an attempt to throw Nick off him. 

A pain tugs at his heart at how different this is to a few days ago, when he and Nick were in this same position during their training. However, the warmth and closeness he felt then is nowhere to be found now. Charlie feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes as Nick stares down at him, using one hand to hold Charlie’s wrists while grabbing his knife with the other. Charlie feels the cool metal press against his throat but Nick freezes, his lower lip quivering as his eyes search Charlie’s. 

“I can’t kill you,” Charlie sobs quietly, the tears trickling from the corner of his eyes and into his curls. “I won’t kill you because I… I care about you too much. S-So you’re going to have to kill me,” he finishes, his voice thick with sadness and defeat. “I know this isn’t you and I know whatever you do, you can’t control it.”

Charlie closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he waits to feel the knife drag across his skin, but it never comes. Nick’s breathing is shaky and Charlie feels something wet fall onto his cheek. He opens his eyes to see Nick crying, his face flushed red as he sniffles.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Nick says in a strained voice, his fingers adjusting their grip on the knife. “Help me, I can’t–” he wheezes and for the first time since the fog swallowed Nick whole, Charlie sees the boy he’s been searching for. It only lasts a moment though because right in front of him, Nick’s humanity begins to fade once more. As he watches Nick's eyes glaze over, the fog taking back control, Charlie uses all of his focus to plant his legs on the outside of Nick’s ankles before pushing his hips upwards, using his feet as an anchor as he rolls them over. 

Nick immediately retaliates by aimlessly grabbing for Charlie, but Charlie catches one of Nick’s arms and wraps his own arm around it, locking it underneath his armpit. Nick releases a sound, almost like a maniacal growl, and tries to pull his arm out. Miraculously, Charlie has such a tight hold on him that he’s unable to free himself; he feels Nick squirming helplessly beneath him. Charlie can feel his newfound strength begin to fade, and he’s only got one last idea. He pulls his free arm back and swings with as much force as he can, punching Nick in the jaw. 

Nick’s head whips to the side, stunning him and causing all movement to stop. Charlie releases Nick and uses his lower leg strength to push up. Nick quickly recovers and holds his jaw as he turns to face Charlie. 

Charlie’s hand is throbbing and his eyebrow has started to sting, but he keeps his eyes on Nick as he slowly walks backwards. He stops when he feels the water splash up his legs and readies himself for Nick’s next imminent attack. 

Sure enough, Nick surges forward, but Charlie steps out of the way and they swap places. Before Nick can charge again, Charlie runs forward and shoves Nick square in the chest, causing him to stumble and fall back into the water with a big splash. 

For a moment, nothing happens and Charlie is left staring at the ripples in the water. He’s in two minds about whether he should go to Nick and drag him out, or stay back in case he’s still under the fog's influence. 

Thankfully, Nick bursts out of the water, gasping for air as he crawls forward onto the grassy land. He splutters out a few coughs as he tries to push himself up, but instead, his body falters and he collapses onto his back, his head lolling to the side. 

“Nick!” Charlie cries out, rushing to his side. He hovers over Nick, gently caressing his face and neck, checking for a pulse, but his hand is shaking too much from the shock and fear to be able to feel anything but how clammy Nick’s skin is, how cold it is. Whether it’s from the water or from–

No. No, it must be from the water. He’s not… He’s still alive. He has to be.

And yet, as the seconds tick away, Nick isn’t moving. He’s just lying there, his skin paler than normal, and his body is perfectly still. 

Charlie’s next actions are purely out of instinct.

He hunches over, pressing his ear to Nick’s chest, hoping and praying to hear a heartbeat, with his own roaring loudly in his ears. But it’s a struggle. He closes his eyes to calm himself down, blocking out his other senses and uses all his focus on finding Nick’s pulse. 

It takes a couple of moments until finally, he hears a faint thud. 

Charlie sobs in relief, but panic quickly runs through his veins as the beat of Nick’s heart is accompanied by a harsh crackling and wheezing. Charlie gasps and sits up abruptly as he grips onto Nick’s t-shirt in fear. “Nick, come on,” he pleads, his voice trembling. “You have to breathe.” 

He places his palms on Nick’s broad chest and begins to shake Nick’s body. “Breathe for me. I can’t lose you!”

No matter how hard Charlie moves Nick’s body, nothing seems to work. 

And then a cannon sounds, and all Charlie feels is dread.

Charlie’s body convulses as his sobs wrack through him, making his own breathing incredibly difficult. Charlie screams out as he collapses on top of Nick, his hands forming fists in frustration. He yells into Nick’s abdomen, his hand striking right over where Nick’s heart is, again, and again.

“Please, please, please,” Charlie whispers, his adrenaline quickly disappearing, leaving him weak and distraught. 

Suddenly, Nick’s body jerks as he chokes for air. Charlie falls back onto his hands, watching in horror as Nick coughs and water spews from his mouth. He pushes himself up onto his hands as he gasps for a full breath, his fingers digging into the soil as if to ground himself. 

Finally, after what feels like an age, Nick’s coughing reduces into short grunts. 

“Nick?” Charlie whispers tearfully. 

Nick’s head snaps up, his eyes darting around his surroundings in panic until he finally finds Charlie – he freezes.

Charlie moves slowly as he sits up onto his knees, holding out a cautious hand with tears falling freely down his cheeks. “Nick, you’re okay,” Charlie continues softly with a watery smile. “It’s me, Charlie. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

Nick’s entire body begins to shake and he tries to crawl towards Charlie. “Charlie,” he croaks out. “W-What happened?” Then his eyes widen as he takes in Charlie’s face, and he uses all of his strength to grab onto Charlie’s outstretched hand. “Char, your eyebrow!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Charlie shakes his head, a tear slipping out the corner of his eye. He pulls Nick closer to him, holding onto his biceps to keep him steady. “I’m okay. It’s just a cut, it’ll heal.” 

Nick brings his other hand up to hold Charlie’s head, his thumb gently tracing the area around his eyebrow while being mindful of not touching the wound. “Did I–” Nick cuts himself off, his voice wobbling at the end as he fights back tears. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Charlie swallows anxiously. “I-I’ll explain later, okay? Don’t apologise, this was not your fault.” He brings his forehead to meet Nick’s and breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as he basks in the feeling of Nick being alive. He feels Nick’s warm breath against his lips, and their noses bump together. That’s all it takes for Charlie to close the gap. 

The kiss is gentle and slow, as if they’re scared to harm each other more than they have already. Nick threads his fingers into Charlie’s curls, somehow pulling him closer. 

Charlie feels his tears fall down his cheeks, and reluctantly pulls back, only to realise Nick is also crying. 

“I thought you died… Again.” Charlie sobs quietly. 

“I’m right here,” Nick whispers as he wipes Charlie’s tears away with his thumb. He pulls Charlie into a hug, a proper one, and cups the back of Charlie’s head. He feels the stubble along Nick’s jaw brush against his cheekbone as Nick presses a soft kiss to Charlie’s temple. “I’m right here,” he repeats in a soothing tone, his fingers caressing Charlie’s curls.

“Please s-stay with me,” Charlie sniffs, unable to stop himself. 

Nick smiles reassuringly and nods before gently ruffling Charlie’s hair. “Always. Where you go, I’ll go.” 

Charlie lets out a wet laugh and smiles in response before collapsing onto Nick’s chest. Nick wraps his arms around Charlie’s body, holding him tightly against him. This time, Charlie feels the warmth and affection radiating from Nick’s arms, the feeling of safety prompting another sob to escape him.

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

After Nick repeats several times that he’s good to walk, the two boys make their way towards a large gathering of pine trees. Nick notices that, just up ahead, the green of the pine shifts to the vibrant yellow of the birch forest. His head is throbbing with pain and his body has never felt more sore in his life, but he keeps pushing onward while Charlie finishes recapping the event. Guilt and remorse flood through Nick’s entire system as Charlie recounts everything: from what Nick last remembers before blacking out – jumping off the ledge as the fog encased him – to how Nick woke up with Charlie sobbing against his chest. At some point throughout Charlie’s storytelling, their hands found each other’s and by the end of it, Nick’s thumb is tracing idle circles along the back of the younger boy’s knuckles.

Nick’s stomach is bubbling in protest and he can’t tell if it’s from nausea or if it’s from hunger. Charlie seems to notice and offers to try and find them something to eat – they need sustenance – but Nick just shakes his head with a wave of his hand. 

“Nick, we haven’t eaten in two days now,” Charlie protests with a stern look. “You just went through a lot, your stomach…”

“Charlie, I appreciate it and I appreciate that you care but to be honest, my body has ingested enough of the Capitol’s crap for one day,” Nick interrupts with a pleading look. “I know it’s food and we’re technically in the wilderness but it’s still from them, isn’t it?”

Charlie huffs in frustration, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he nods. The look of disapproval is evident on his face, but so is the look of understanding in his eyes. “Fine, but we’re finding something first thing in the morning, understood?” Nick can’t refrain from the smile that spreads across his face as he rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yes… Mum,” he adds in a teasing tone. He expects Charlie to laugh or mirror Nick’s eye rolling, but instead he’s surprised by the look of anger that flashes across the shorter boy’s features. “What?”

“How can you just make light of this? Of what happened to you?” Charlie frowns, crossing his arms. Nick’s eyebrows raise before pinching together. “Nick, you… Do you not understand how scared I was? I was terrified that you were going to die or that you were going to kill me. And now I’m trying to take proper care of you so that you don’t…” Charlie’s voice cracks and he falls quiet, his eyes casting towards the ground as he stops walking. Nick freezes too, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him.

“Hey,” Nick murmurs apologetically. He steps closer and pulls Charlie in for a hug, noticing how the other flinches against him before melting into the embrace. Nick can feel Charlie’s shoulders shake and it practically shatters his heart. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make light of this.”

“But you are,” Charlie replies, though his voice is full of sadness instead of harshness. “The first event, we had each other. This one…”

“Yeah,” Nick whispers. “You’re right, I should eat. And I promise you that tomorrow, I’ll make sure we find food. But I don’t want to eat anything right now if I’m just going to throw it up later. It feels like a waste of resources, and I don’t want to do that.”

Charlie sniffles, his eyes not fully meeting Nick’s. “That makes sense,” he admits. “I’m sor–”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Nick warns with a finger in the air. “Don’t go all soft on me now, Spring.” 

Much to his delight, Charlie does smile at that. 

As Nick moves forward to cup Charlie’s face gently, a searing pain shoots through his head as a flashback from earlier jumps to the forefront of his brain. He can hear the echo of Charlie begging him to stop, followed by Nick’s hands pressing even harder against his will. The unwelcome memory makes his brain feel like it’s splitting in two, and he quickly jerks his whole body away from Charlie. He inhales a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Nick?” Charlie asks warily and Nick can hear the defensiveness in his tone, as if the other is preparing to protect himself. Nick holds a hand up, blinking rapidly in the hope of not only clearing his vision but chasing the haunting image away too. 

“I’m good,” Nick promises, his voice cracking. “I’m okay, sorry, I just… The longer I’m coherent, the more the memories begin to come back.” He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. Charlie watches him, his brows pinched with concern, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, they continue walking in silence with a little more distance between them than before.

The sun is hanging low in the sky when they finally pick a place for the night; there was a small cluster of pine trees spread out with boulders taller than Nick on either side. It doesn’t give them much protection or shelter, but it’s something. They’re down to one backpack now instead of the two that they started with, the other no doubt left behind during the fog event. As Nick sits down, resting against the prickly bark of the tree, Charlie does a quick walk around to make sure that no one’s nearby. Nick leans his head back, the golden evening light flickering through the branches from above. When Charlie reappears, he shoots Nick a thumbs up before dropping his bow and quiver of arrows onto the ground, followed by the backpack. Nick wants to offer for Charlie to sit next to him, to cuddle up close like they did the night before, but he can’t bring himself to say anything.

How can I offer him comfort and solace when I tried to kill him not even five hours ago?

He studies Charlie as he watches him go through the backpack’s contents, noticing the weariness in his eyes. The circles underneath them are dark and he has dried blood along his temple and cheek. Charlie scoffs in anger as he leans his head back, holding the crumpled shirts that they started with. 

“Fucking fantastic,” Charlie growls. “We’ve got basically nothing at this point besides the water canteen, some gauze, and these bloody fucking shirts.”

Against his better judgement, Nick shuffles closer. He gingerly extends a hand out. “If you want… I could help you clean up your face? Maybe apply some gauze to the cut on your eyebrow?” Nick asks softly, gauging Charlie’s reaction. Charlie studies him for a moment before looking back at the cloth in his hands. 

“That’d be a big help,” Charlie says finally, his tone sincere. Nick feels relief bloom behind his ribs as he nods, taking the shirt from Charlie’s hand. Charlie hands him the canteen and Nick’s thankful for the distraction, getting to work on fixing Charlie up to the best of his ability. 

He’d spent plenty of days during his time training back in District 2 bandaging up wounds. He can still remember how much he hated it back then; how he’d constantly gripe and complain to Sahar about it being a useless skill to have. Now, as he tentatively dabs at the dried blood caked to Charlie’s face, he finds himself feeling oddly grateful for it. Grateful because it’s not only extremely useful, but it also gives Nick a reason to be as close to Charlie as he is.

He tries to ignore how Charlie stares at him with such wide and caring eyes as he cleans off the rest of Charlie’s cheek before pouring more water on the cloth. He feels Charlie’s fingertips ghost along his jawline, his breath shivering as the warmth of the sunlight is chased away by the chill of dusk, and Nick idly leans into the touch as he runs the cloth through Charlie’s curls. He’s about to set the shirt down and grab the gauze when he feels the pad of Charlie’s thumb press gently along Nick’s lower lip and his eyes finally lock with Charlie’s.

“I don’t blame you,” Charlie whispers, his gaze flickering between Nick’s eyes and his mouth. “Don’t blame yourself either.”

Nick’s breath hitches as he feels his eyes begin to water. “I know,” he murmurs, his face softening. “It’s hard not to, all things considered.” 

“Nick, the fog made you do it,” Charlie says firmly. Nick shakes his head, anger rising in his chest though it’s quickly squashed by overwhelming sadness. 

“Did it though?” Nick asks, his voice breaking as a tear falls down his face. “I mean, the way I acted, the way I fought… That’s what I’ve been trained to do, Charlie. All of my life, I was born and raised for one purpose and one purpose only: to kill. What you told me sounds exactly like everything that’s been instilled in my brain since the day I turned six. I may not remember it, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault. Under the influence or not, that part of me is real, I know it. I know it because I’ve lived it.”

“That may be a part of you, but that’s not you, Nick,” Charlie replies in a soft tone, far gentler than what Nick deserves. Nick’s about to disagree when the sound of the Panem anthem interrupts them. They both fall quiet, watching the sky as pictures of three fallen tributes are painted across it. Nick’s stomach churns with each cannon, the noise reminding him of how close Charlie was to being one of those cannons today. When the anthem ends, Nick’s eyes meet Charlie’s unwavering stare. 

“I’m not scared of you,” the younger boy says in a quiet but firm voice. “And I don’t see you any differently, even after what happened today. I mean it.”

Nick responds with a sad smile as he grabs the gauze and applies pressure against Charlie’s eyebrow. It’s a moot point, considering the wound is no longer bleeding, but neither of them seem to care. Charlie, to prove his earlier point, leans into Nick’s touch and turns his head just enough that he can press a gentle kiss to Nick’s wrist. 

After several long moments of silence, Nick manages to find his voice. “You should get some rest, Char,” he utters as Charlie continues to hold the gauze in place. “I’ll take the first watch of the night.”

Charlie seemingly disagrees, grabbing his bow with his free hand to bring it closer before patting his thigh. “If I remember correctly, your body still needs to properly digest all of the… How did you put it?” A hint of a smile ghosts across Charlie’s lips. “Oh, right. The Capitol’s crap. I’ll take the first watch, and you can sleep the rest of it off. I promise I’m good.”

Nick wants to insist that he could take the first watch, but Charlie’s tone leaves no room for argument, so instead he obliges. He resituates himself so that his head is on Charlie’s thigh, enjoying the warmth that seeps into Nick’s cheek as his eyes begin to droop. He’s dead set on staying awake for as long as he can, but the moment he feels Charlie’s nails gently scratch along his scalp, all of the negative feelings storming through his brain dissipate. The other’s touch is like a soothing balm, one that’s more effective than any other medicine Nick’s ever had. Both the mental and physical exertion that Nick has been fighting off is back in full force and as he drifts off to sleep, he swears he hears Charlie hum a soft melody.

Chapter Text

Tara stares in the mirror as she secures her golden silk bonnet, the rich material an identical shade to her eyes. She unwraps the towel from her body, the cool air nipping at her damp skin briefly before she wraps herself up in a dressing gown, tying the belt around her waist loosely. She spritzes some of her perfume that she brought from home along her pulse points, preferring the subtle scent of real mint and vanilla mixed together over any artificial scent that the Capitol has to offer. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, the smell almost like a hug from her mother.

When her eyes flutter open, they meet with her reflection, and Tara’s throat tightens as she lets her eyes study themselves in the mirror. She doesn’t have to lean in any closer to get a better look; the tiny mechanisms in her robotic eyes adjust automatically, effortlessly zooming in with precision. Her gaze shifts from the artificial irises to her face, as if trying to recognise the person looking back at her, but failing to see any relation to the woman she once knew. To the girl that she once knew.

A burst of wind to her side startles her as the door slides open and her eyes meet Darcy’s.

“Everything alright?” Darcy asks softly, her brows pinched together. Tara clears her throat and forces a curt smile as she nods. 

“Yeah,” Tara whispers. “Just needed a shower.”

Darcy nods, her nostrils flaring as she picks up on Tara’s perfume. She hums and walks closer, slowly snaking an arm around Tara’s waist affectionately. Tara welcomes the physical distraction, tilting her head to the side as Darcy’s nose simultaneously buries itself in her neck. Goosebumps rise along Tara’s flesh as Darcy inhales deeply, her girlfriend’s warm breath fanning along her neck as Darcy exhales. 

“I’ve missed your perfume so much,” Darcy whispers softly, her thumb stroking circles along Tara’s back. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, love,” Tara responds, pressing a kiss to Darcy’s temple. “It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten what you sound like when you snore.”

Darcy giggles, the sound like a cure-all to Tara’s frayed nerves. “You snore,” she grins as she leans back, poking Tara’s cheek. “Not to mention you talk absolute rubbish in your sleep too.”

“I do not!” Tara squeaks in response, playfully shoving Darcy off. “Name one weird thing I’ve said in the past week and a half!” Darcy’s lips twist into a sly grin before she pulls an imaginary zip across her lips. Tara rolls her eyes, walking over to the bed behind her. She crawls onto the bed and leans against the headboard with a sigh. Her eyes focus on the large TV hanging on the wall, where Aled Flickerman is currently recapping the top moments of the Games so far. His hair and eyebrows are a vibrant shade of teal, his eyelashes and lips a glittering gold.

Ten days.

Ten excruciating days of watching this year’s round of kids be thrown into the arena to kill each other off. While every year has been insufferable since becoming a mentor, this year has been the hardest yet – all because of Nicholas Nelson. The brother of the mentor who cost Tara her vision, the tribute who she was planning to sabotage out of spite… 

Except that now, he’s the boy who’s falling in love. 

And Tara, unfortunately, has grown fond of him. Every tribute she’s had up to this point has been snarky and cocky, never listening to her advice or willing to communicate. All they would do is complain about how they got stuck with her and not David. When Nick was picked as the District 2 male tribute during her year of mentoring, Tara thought she was on the way to her own personal hell. With how annoying and abrasive David had been, Tara expected Nick to be a thousand times worse, having a victor already in his family. In his blood. But when she saw him step onto the train, she saw a glimpse of something in him – something different, something innocent – and her plan of sabotage went out the window. She knew it was stupid to get attached to a tribute, especially considering the circumstances, but Nick had a way about him – a kindness that this fucked up world so desperately needed.

Her mind drifts back to one of the last private one-on-one training sessions she’d had with Nick. They had been in a gym that was specifically made for District 2 mentors and tributes. Nick was sweating profusely as he chugged water, patting his forehead with a towel draped around his neck while Tara was grinning smugly as she drank from her water bottle. They’d just finished combat training, where Tara had swiftly kicked his ass, and were getting ready to do some cardio – after they took a break. While they talked about a lot of different topics during their sessions, one conversation has stuck with her since it happened.

—

“Tara,” Nick murmured, looking up from the number ‘2’ painted on the floor and meeting her eyes. Tara tilted her head curiously as she pulled her braids back with a scrunchie.

“Yeah?” she asked softly, raising an eyebrow. Nick placed his hands on his hips, seemingly hesitant as to how to bring up whatever was on his mind. 

“How did you…” he exhaled in frustration and Tara’s brows pinched together. 

“Go on,” she encouraged, sipping from her water. 

When Nick’s eyes met hers, they were full of raw vulnerability, completely catching her off guard. “How did you know you could trust someone from one of the lower districts to be your ally?” His voice caught in his throat and he looked around slowly. “Was your plan to form an alliance with the lower district from the start? Or did it happen in the arena?”

Tara blinked at him, taken aback by the question. Her mind drew a blank in response and she cast her gaze down to the ground as she shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly after a moment. “I think… I think I just felt this instinct inside me that if I stuck by them, I would survive. They…” Tara felt a wave of emotion wash over her, one full of gratitude and grief. “They were kind,” her eyes began to sting as they tried to produce tears, but Tara hadn’t been able to cry properly since she lost her eyes. Instead of tears forming, a pressure behind her eyes built – a cruel reminder that, even though she left the arena long ago, it never left her. “Everyone else was sizing each other up and making lists of who they were going to kill first but Finn,” she said as a sad smile tugged at Tara’s lips, “Finn was helping the younger tributes set traps, encouraging them during group exercises, helping them learn medical aid... They even offered their seat to other tributes in the interview’s waiting lounge while we all waited.”

“They sound lovely,” Nick said with a genuine tone. When Tara’s eyes met his, she noticed a look of recognition in Nick’s eyes, as if he’d felt a similar way about someone before.

Maybe he still did.

“They were.” Tara admitted as she bit the inside of her cheek. “I know we’re supposed to fraternise with other Careers. That’s what District Two is known for,” Tara continued. “But if there’s any advice you’ll accept from our training before you go into the Games, I hope it’s this.” Brazenly, she places a hand on either of Nick’s shoulders, looking him square in the eye. 

“If there is a single person in this year’s group of tributes who sounds like Finn, I highly suggest that during the night of your upcoming interview, you try and strike up a conversation with them. Kindness is a survival skill, Nick, and a powerful one at that. Especially when the person knows how to wield it correctly.”

Nick’s head slowly lowered in understanding and Tara watched with great intensity as his eyes flickered every few seconds, a growing idea forming behind his eyes. He gave a curt nod, but it was almost more towards himself than Tara.

“I think you’re right,” he said quietly and when their eyes met again, she noticed he gave her a genuine attempt at a smile. “I mean, I’m at risk of dying anyway, right? Might as well die next to a good person than some annoying twat.”

“I mean,” Tara guffawed at Nick's bluntness but the noise quickly turned into a laugh. “I guess that’s one way to put it. I’ve never heard of a District Two tribute admitting they might die out loud though. Definitely a first since I’ve started mentoring.” 

Nick shrugged, taking a sip from his water bottle. “I guess I’m a defective one, then.”

Tara simply shook her head at that. “Actually, I think you’re quite the opposite.”

—

“Jonesy?” Darcy asks softly and Tara’s entire body tenses at the surprise as she snaps back to the present. She glances over to see Darcy holding a glass of wine out. From the slight concern on her face, Darcy’s been holding it out for a while. However she doesn’t say anything, only presses her lips into a thin line. Tara takes the glass appreciatively, taking a tentative sip as Darcy sits down next to her. Aled Flickerman begins to speak just as the bitterness passes her lips. 

“This year has been a great one, ladies and gentleman,” Aled beams before leaning in and raising an eyebrow, “Not only have we gotten to see brand new muttations, thanks to the talented Head Gamemaker, Isaac Henderson, we’ve also gotten to see the budding romance between two star-crossed lovers.” The screen suddenly flips through clips of both Nick and Charlie, from the moment they first appeared in the Games to their very first kiss. And then to yesterday, when Nick and Charlie were fighting each other. 

“Uh oh!” Aled gasps, covering his mouth with a gloved hand just as Nick cuts Charlie’s eyebrow, “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise, folks,” Aled frowns dramatically. “But thankfully, our two boys made it through the mist and live to see another day. In a few minutes…”

“Y’know the worst part?” Darcy asks softly from beside her. Tara raises an eyebrow, looking over her shoulder. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of Charlie.” She snorts but it holds no amusement. “Breaking the oldest rule in the book, of course.”

“When have you ever been a rule follower?” Tara responds with a secretive smile. Darcy pauses and a sad smile crosses her lips. 

“Normally I’m all for breaking the rules,” Darcy nods in agreement. The smile on her lip falters as she looks at her glass of whiskey. “Not this one, though. But I did it anyway,” Darcy sniffles. Tara frowns and places a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles along Darcy’s shoulder blade. 

“We both did, my love,” Tara murmurs, no longer trying to hide the sadness in her voice. They’ve both worked their asses off harder than ever before this year; Tara had to pull some of her oldest favours to afford getting Nick that healing medicine, and Darcy now owes a few favours after getting sponsors for the shirts. 

“What the actual fuck?” Darcy asks, sounding offended. At first, Tara thinks it’s something she’s said, but when her eyes land on the screen to see David fucking Nelson staring back, her jaw drops. “Since when did this fucking arse get to do interviews?!”

“I don’t…” Tara idly replies, confusion and anger overwhelming her. Leave it to fucking David to make Nick’s Games about himself.

“So nice to see you again, David! I think I speak for all of Panem when I say we’ve missed you this year,” Aled says, placing a hand over his heart with a genuine smile. David grins and it makes Tara’s stomach churn. 

“I promise you’re in good hands with Tara,” he says, folding his hands over his lap. It looks like David’s in a study somewhere, a fireplace crackling in the background even though the ceiling lights are on.

What a douche, Tara thinks dryly, taking a swig of her wine. 

“So David, I know we don’t usually interview recent victors like this until after the Games are over, but this isn’t our usual Games. Your very own baby brother is in there this year, and he is absolutely dominating out there!” As Aled speaks, professional photos of Nick from the chariot parade and from the interview before the Games appear, lingering on the screen. 

“Yeah, I’m extremely proud of him,” David says as his face reappears. Tara wants to roll her eyes, but she’s too busy glaring daggers into the screen. “Not particularly fond of him allying with certain tributes but…” David bites his lip and shrugs. “Well, in the Arena, you have to do what you need to survive.” 

“I can turn this off–” Darcy offers, but Tara shakes her head. 

“Leave it,” she whispers softly, her throat tight with anger. Darcy hesitates, her eyes studying Tara’s face, but she obliges and sits back.

“So you’re aware of the development between District Two and Twelve, I presume?” Aled pries, leaning in closer to the camera. David shuffles his shoulders before sucking his teeth. He crosses his legs, his hands folding in his lap. His knee bobs up and down slightly as he nods his head.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching the Games at my home with my mum,” he says, his voice oddly neutral. “We’ve both found this year’s Games to be rather… fascinating, to say the least.” David smiles tightly. While his face is devoid of any emotion, Tara can spot the fiery look of anger in his eyes. 

“Fascinating, indeed!” Aled says with a smile, though Tara thinks she notices it’s more reserved than before, as if the man also disliked the way David responded. “Well, your brother is definitely building his own path in the Capitol this year, receiving a score of…” Aled flips through some papers on his desk. “Ten, in comparison to your eight. Was that a very proud moment for you and your mum? I’m sure she must be ecstatic to have two high-ranking sons in the Games. Either way, at least your household surname will be the same!”

David’s smile grew tighter, his skin almost looking elastic. “So. Much. Pride.” he grits out between his teeth. 

Tara can’t help the snicker that escapes her at David’s anger, hearing Darcy giggle beside her.

 “To David being humiliated in front of Panem,” Darcy grins. Tara looks over at her girlfriend, who’s already raising her glass to cheers. The soft ‘ clink ’ of their cups fills the air as they take a sip while Aled continues.

“Well, it’s been lovely catching up with you, David,” Aled beams. “Hopefully we’ll be speaking to you again sooner rather than later! Maybe we’ll even get to see you on this year’s Victor Tour.”

Before David speaks, Tara sees the anger in his eyes morph into the spark of an idea. His smile relaxes as he leans forward, folding his hands over his lap. “Yes, of course, Aled. It was a pleasure as always. Knowing my little brother, he’ll find his way home again. Maybe you’ll even get a chance to speak to his girlfriend, Sahar.”

Aled’s eyes widen and his lips part with shock at David’s bombshell of a sentence. Before he can ask any questions, David’s image disconnects, and Aled is left by himself. Tara’s jaw is slack as she stares at the screen, her entire body lighting ablaze with fury. “Well, folks,” Aled says, the surprise evident on his face. His lips curl into a grin as he shuffles some papers in a row. “For now, let’s check back in on these tributes and when we come back, we’ll try and delve more into this… interesting twist.”

“He did not just say that,” Darcy whispers, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. Tara is left speechless, her rage devouring her from the inside out. “Does he realise what he’s just done?”

There’s a knock on the door of Tara’s hotel room, causing both her and her girlfriend to freeze. Tara looks over at Darcy, who should definitely not be in Tara’s sleeping chamber at this hour. Tara sets down her glass before they both spring off the bed, Darcy running to the bathroom as Tara makes her way to the door. She presses the ‘unlock’ button and Imogen’s face comes into view. Her tawny blonde locks are rolled up in pink curlers and she’s got golden peels underneath her eyes. She’s wearing pink silk pyjamas and an equally pink wool dressing gown. She appears so normal that it’s borderline terrifying.

Without the makeup, crazy wigs, and equally crazy clothing, she actually looks… pretty. 

“Did you just see..?” Imogen gulps, her bright blue eyes glassy with worry. Tara nods and moves back so the other woman can come in, locking the door behind her. Imogen sits on the bed, crossing her silk covered legs as she reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a little white box and much to Tara’s surprise, it dispenses a singular cigarette when it opens. “Oh, darling, do you have a light?”

“I–” Tara purses her lips together and she wants to say ‘no’ but instead she nods to the bedside drawer. 

Imogen sighs with relief and opens it, leaning forward and grabbing the box of matches. She puts the cigarette up to her lips and her cheeks hollow as she lights it, shaking the match and placing it in the rubbish bin by her foot. She takes a drag of the cigarette and the tip glows bright orange, but no smoke wafts into the air. However, when she exhales, there’s a small cloud that escapes past her lips.

“Imogen, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Tara asks with a frown. Imogen sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose anxiously. 

“I should be but… I don’t know, this year’s Games… They feel different, don’t they?” she asks with a slight pout. “Especially with how everyone has been talking the last few days.” 

Tara tilts her head, her brows pinching in concern. “What do you mean, Im?” 

“Well… I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Imogen frowns, taking another drag of her cigarette. “All of the escorts got pulled to the side two nights ago by some officials during a dinner party we were having… They told us that we were going to start hearing whispers on the street about an–”

A loud thump comes from the bathroom behind them, abruptly interrupting Imogen. She frowns and looks past Tara and at the closed door. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Tara waves a hand dismissively. “Thin walls and all that. Continue with what you were saying, please.”

The blonde hesitates for a moment, as if not entirely trusting Tara’s words. However, she doesn’t say anything and instead shakes her head. “I’ve already said too much.” 

Tara, knowing Imogen’s weakness, picks up the bottle of wine from the small tray of refreshments. She holds it up and teasingly dangles it in the air. “Maybe you’re just a little parched?” she offers and Imogen smiles mischievously. 

“Oh, you little devil! Fine, fine, but just one,” Imogen agrees.

Tara chuckles and quickly pours her a glass before topping off her own. “So, where were we?” 

“Right! So, anyway, we were pulled to the side and told that there’s been talk about an uprising in the lower districts,” Imogen murmurs before taking a large gulp of her drink. “There’s been a lot of chatter, both from sponsors and citizens, about how Nick and Charlie’s relationship isn’t romantic – it’s an alliance.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Tara snaps, her anger from before returning tenfold. “Anyone with eyes can see –”

“They see hope, Tara,” she replies. “Whether it’s seen as a forbidden love or a forbidden partnership between districts.” Imogen takes another drag of her cigarette as Tara lets her words sink in. She’d been so busy working to keep Nick and in turn Charlie alive that she never even considered how the boys’ relationship could be seen as an act of rebellion. 

But it makes perfect sense.

The lower districts – and even some of the higher ones – have been in a state of unrest for the past three years, waiting for the perfect moment to start an uprising. They’re already on shaky grounds with the Capitol: shipments from Districts Four, Eleven, and Seven have been arriving later than when they’re due, sometimes not even arriving at all. And when the Capitol does get the shipments, the goods are either spoiled or missing. Thinking about it, Tara remembers hearing about some masonry items that went missing a year ago. A shipment of weapons for the peacekeepers was supposed to be sent via train to District Twelve, but never made it past District Nine. The cart had quite literally disappeared off the tracks and not a single peacekeeper nor official was able to locate it, nor the weapons. 

“So, when David said that Nick has a girlfriend…” Tara begins.

“Those words completely unravelled everything that Becky and I have been working hard on confining!” Imogen pouts, stomping her foot on the ground angrily. “The night that the escorts were pulled to the side, the officials had Becky and I stay after. They told us we have to do damage control and make sure that people know Nick and Charlie’s relationship is nothing more than a teen romance.”

“That’s good though, right? It sounds like they know what Nick and Charlie have is real.” Tara says, unsure of who she’s trying to console: Imogen or herself.

“I don’t know if they do,” Imogen frowns. “It’s gotten so out of hand that, according to some of my sources, it’s caught the attention of President Erevan.”

Tara’s stomach drops at the name, her mind instantly flashing back to when President Erevan had crowned her as a victor after she’d won her Games. She still remembers the way his wolf-like eyes looked over her with pride, the green colour reminding her of the mould found on expired food. His pearly white smile held venom in its shine, his canines prosthetically altered to mirror the fangs of a beast. Just being around him had made her body revolt on instinct; how anyone found him charming was beyond her. 

“Shit,” Tara mumbles as she rubs her neck. “This is–”

“A mess!” Imogen finishes her sentence. She takes the final swig of her wine before setting the empty glass on the bedside table. “I could strangle David for this.”

“Listen,” Tara says softly. “Right now, we can’t let David throw us off our groove, okay? Darcy and I will keep doing what we’ve been doing with the sponsors, while you and Becky do the same with the citizens. We’ll navigate this together as a team, okay? We can talk more about it at lunch tomorrow.”

Imogen nods, finishing the last of her cigarette before tossing it in the rubbish bin. She primps her curlers before standing up and securing her wool robe around her. “You’re right. I’ve faced greater scandals than this,” she says with a sniffle. “Would you be a dear and talk to Darcy for me?”

“Of course, Im,” Tara smiles and pulls her into a hug. She remembers when there was a time she’d despised the woman, but over the years she’s come to learn that the real Imogen, the one buried under the Capitol enthusiast, isn’t so bad. “Get some sleep, alright?”

After Tara guides her out, the moment the door locks she hears the bathroom door swing open. Darcy comes out, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks puffy. She looks as if she’s been crying and Tara immediately embraces her, rubbing a soothing circle along her back. 

“We’ll get through this, Darce,” Tara murmurs. “Maybe… Maybe this isn’t a bad thing.”

“Must be a pretty fragile system if a handful of gays can bring it down, huh?” Darcy utters in response. Tara can’t refrain from the snort that escapes her. 

“It’s always been a fragile system,” she answers sadly.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

As Darcy approaches the door to the VIP screening room, she has to take a deep breath to mentally prepare herself for the many conversations she'll likely have to participate in with people she hates. It almost feels like fraternising with the enemy. The only two things that will help her get through this day are Tara, and the fact she’s not wearing a dress. Usually the women of the Capitol only wear dresses, but as soon as she was crowned victor, she decided to say a constant ‘fuck you’ to the Capitol and the government in any way possible. So today she’s wearing a cream blouse with an oversized bow at the collar, a fitted double-breasted navy pinstripe blazer and matching trousers, and her trusted combat boots. Her hair, however, is still messy and haphazardly falling down her face. 

The door opens suddenly as two elaborately dressed members of government step out. Darcy forces her lips to form a smile as she steps to the side, letting them leave. The pair stop mid-conversation and look her up and down, but say nothing and respond with a tight and very fake smile. 

“Fucking Cappies,” she mumbles the insult, one that was used often back in District 12 to describe Capitol natives, under her breath as she steps inside the viewing room. 

She looks around quickly, scanning the room for Tara, Rebecca, or even Imogen. She’s just desperate to sit next to someone she can tolerate for more than two minutes. Thankfully, she spots Tara and Rebecca at the end of the room – Tara looking as breathtakingly beautiful as usual – and immediately makes her way in that direction. She passes previous victors, nodding politely at them whenever they make eye contact until she notices David. 

Her smile drops instantly, and she can’t stop the scowl that overcomes her face. David has the audacity to smirk at her before turning back to the person he’s supposed to be talking to. 

Finally, she reaches Tara and Rebecca and throws herself on the couch next to Tara with a heavy sigh. 

“Careful, you’ll get frown lines!” Rebecca says immediately, her face morphing into genuine panic. 

Darcy rolls her eyes as Tara snickers, sneakily reaching out to gently squeeze Darcy’s thigh. Darcy feels her annoyance immediately melt away and she smiles gratefully, craving for more of her touch, but manages to keep her hands to herself. Despite generally being known as a couple, they still keep the public displays of affection to a minimum to keep up the ‘professional’ pretence. 

“What’s new in the world of all things depressing?” Darcy asks quietly. 

“Not much, really,” Tara replies, looking back at the large screen in front of them. It currently shows Harry Greene walking through a dying field, looking miserable and sullen. “Just going between everyone every so often. It’s gotten a bit… boring, for lack of a better word, now that there are only four tributes left.” 

Before Darcy can respond with how she truly feels, the click clack of heels sound behind them and a second later, Imogen appears in a bright yellow dress with her usual almost pained smile on her face. “Good morning!” she chirps as she looks at everyone. Her smile falters when her eyes land on Darcy. “Goodness, you’ll get lines if you keep that up, Darcy.”

“Thank you!” Rebecca exclaims, holding her hands out. 

Imogen takes Rebecca's hands and practically skips over to sit next to her, immediately complimenting the other’s outfit. Darcy tunes out their high pitched squeals and looks at the screen just in time to see the camera change over to Nick and Charlie laughing about something as they eat an animal they must’ve caught. Darcy’s heart twinges as Nick looks away, but Charlie continues to stare at him with a relaxed smile on his face and adoration evident in eyes. Then, Charlie looks away as Nick looks back at him, with the exact same expression. Darcy feels herself become emotional, because that’s exactly how she feels when she looks at Tara – as if they are the only two people in the world.

“Hey, you okay?” Tara asks softly.

Darcy blinks her tears away and inhales deeply. She turns to Tara, trying to smile, but it falls immediately. Tara smiles sadly at her with understanding and Darcy feels the tears burn at her eyes again. Even when she tries her hardest, Darcy can never hide from Tara. Tara is the only person Darcy can relax with, can laugh, cry, shout and be everything and anything with. Whenever Darcy is with Tara, her anxieties disappear, all the trauma they endured seems worth it: she feels… normal and free. 

She wants that for Nick and Charlie. 

“I just… see us in them sometimes,” Darcy mumbles, not trusting her voice. “I don’t understand how people don’t believe it.” 

“I do hope there’s another event soon,” a voice comes from behind them. “It’s become a bit of a drag.” 

Soft laughter scatters around them and Darcy feels her sadness be replaced by anger, a feeling she is all too familiar with. 

“Pathetic,” Darcy whispers into Tara’s ear as she reaches over to the centre of the table to pick up a glass of champagne on offer. 

She drinks half of it in one go. 

“Oh, what’s this?” 

“Is something happening?”

“Finally!”

“I hope I win!” 

A group of new voices suddenly sound from around the room, overlapping one another until it becomes a steady buzz. Darcy’s eyes flicker towards the screen to see District 11’s male tribute pull out his swords, looking startled and slightly on edge. The entire room is glued to the screen and watches Harry come into view, saying something that the microphones can’t pick up. A few people gasp, and others hold onto their friends or partners, and Darcy merely finishes her drink in another gulp so she doesn’t get up and punch them all. 

Darcy feels Tara’s hand wrap around hers, squeezing gently a few times. Darcy pulses back in thanks and forces herself to keep looking at the screen. 

That’s when Harry strikes.

The boy from 11 manages to block the attack, pushing with the goal to knock Harry back. Harry looks enraged, seemingly annoyed that it wasn’t as easy as he expected. 11’s sword clashes with Harry’s axe as they go back and forth, swinging and striking at every possible opening. The boy from 11 is skilled, Darcy can’t deny that, but his stamina is very quickly diminishing – and Harry has noticed. 

A small smirk slowly appears on Harry's face when the other tribute stumbles back, chest heaving and arm falling down. Harry swings his axe once more, and the boy from 11 barely manages to raise his sword in time. The late block causes him to lose balance and fall onto the ground. 

That’s all it takes for Harry to win. He kicks the boy in the abdomen, before swiftly bringing the axe down, embedding it into the boy’s neck. 

A chorus of groans and a small round of scattered applause fills the room.  

“I can’t stand this,” Darcy spits through gritted teeth. “They’re all just–”

“Shh,” Tara interrupts with a look of warning, the pupils of her gold eyes taking a moment to resize as they adjust to the new distance between her and Darcy. “I know. But we can’t do anything about it. We just have to get through it.

Darcy glares at the screen, trying to control her breathing all the while being ready to burst out of her seat, when Nick and Charlie reappear on the screen. For a brief second, they look content, chatting over the dying embers of the fire they use to cook their food, blissfully unaware of the most recent death in the arena. 

Then the cannon goes off, and their soft smiles are gone instantly as reality makes itself known again. 

The pair look at each other with frowns on their faces, having a wordless conversation that nobody else can properly understand. Charlie shuffles closer to Nick, intertwining their hands together as he rests his head on Nick’s shoulder. With a heavy sigh, Nick lets his own head fall on top of Charlie’s and the screen fades to black. 

A few seconds later, Aled’s face takes over the screen, looking overly saddened at the most recent events of the Games. 

Darcy has officially had enough. Every year, seeing the people of the Capitol showcase the Games as if it’s some entertainment show deepens the burning hole in her heart. 

She stands up abruptly, causing Tara, Imogen and Rebecca to look at her in surprise, but she storms off before they can say anything. A few people look at her in annoyance as she passes, but she doesn’t care.

Her hands are clenched in tight fists as she walks through the automatic doors and down the corridor. She gets about halfway when her lungs begin to burn with how harshly she is breathing from holding back her tears. She stops and braces herself with her hands flat against the wall and tries to breathe out slowly. 

“If it isn’t the only victor from District Twelve.”

Darcy’s blood freezes as she recognises the voice. 

She straightens up and turns to see David leaning against the opposite wall, ankles crossed and hands in pockets, with a stupid smug look on his face. He’s in a brown three-piece chequered suit with a golden watch on his wrist. “Having fun playing ‘Mummy and Daddy’ with your girlfriend? You almost look human in that.” David muses, tilting his head as he rolls his tongue in his cheek, eyeing Darcy up and down with disdain. 

“What, did you miss whoring yourself out to the Capitol so much that you needed to stop by just to get your fill? Makes sense why you aren’t standing straight,” Darcy hits back. “Long night, I take it?”

David’s smirk morphs into a disgusted scowl. “How dare you insult me like that?” he sneers. “Just because my brother is suddenly a fa–”

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” Darcy scoffs incredulously, taking a step forward as her hand tightens into a fist. 

“Darcy!” Tara’s voice rings out, as the woman herself suddenly appears by her side, a fake smile plastered on her face. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“There’s my star pupil,” David hums, though his tone is still laced with venom.

“David,” Tara greets, her voice cold, but her smile is somehow unwavering. ”What brings you here? Isn’t it a little early for the closing celebrations?”

David’s eyes twitch slightly. “Well, there’s nothing stopping us victors from paying a special visit during the Hunger Games, is there? Plus, I thought since Nick has gotten this far that I’d take a trip, just in case I can help him a bit more. You know,” David glances towards Darcy, looking her up and down with disdain, “Sponsor wise. I figured they could use some more gifts considering the only things you two have managed to gather is some medical gel and shirts.” 

“He’s doing just fine without you,” Tara retorts, her nostrils flaring. 

“Sure,” David nods with a pitiful smile, his tone nothing short of patronizing. 

“Cut the shit, David,” Darcy interrupts. “We all know you're just here to cause trouble.” 

“Oh, I am, am I?” David raises his eyebrows, seemingly bored by the conversation. “I can’t visit to support my brother?” 

“That interview says otherwise,” Darcy practically spits. 

“Darcy,” Tara warns quietly, placing a gentle hand on her arm. Darcy shakes her off and steps forward.

“What about it?” David replies innocently. 

Darcy laughs bitterly. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

David snorts and pushes off the wall. “Don’t I? Tell you what, kid,” he says in a neutral tone, though his eyes are full of hatred and agitation as he approaches Darcy. He stares down his nose at her. “How about you leave this to the professionals, eh? The ones who know how to be mentors. Before your district’s luck runs out and it costs my brother his life.” Without another word, he walks away, leaving Darcy enraged and Tara confused and slightly unnerved.

Darcy turns to look at Tara with wide eyes, speechless. 

Tara’s face suddenly morphs into a look of determination. “David,” she calls out calmly, stepping in front of Darcy.

David stops and turns around. 

Tara takes a breath. “Whether he comes home or not, Nick is more of a victor than you will ever be.” 

Darcy’s lips part in disbelief and awe. 

Why was that so hot?

David also looks quite shocked. 

Tara huffs out a short puff of breath, nodding slightly as she smooths out the front of her dress. “Nice seeing you, David,” she says, before taking Darcy’s hand to lead her back into the viewing room. 

“I cannot stand that man,” Darcy grumbles as they go through the automatic doors. 

“I know, I know,” Tara replies sympathetically, giving her hand a squeeze. “Me too, but we can’t do anything about it.” 

They reach Rebecca and Imogen again, who are discussing something relating to their escort duties and barely register that Tara and Darcy have returned, which Darcy is glad for. If she receives any more attention, she might combust on the spot. 

She reaches forward for another drink, this time picking up the decanter full of whisky and pouring herself a large glass. She hears Tara faintly sigh, but ignores it. Darcy’s drinking habits are fine… usually. After her victory, she practically drowned in it. But then she met Tara, and she managed to get it under control. But every year, as discussions of the next Hunger Games begin, she can’t help but drink a little more, just to keep the edge off. It’s the only thing that allows her to do her job as mentor without going on a murderous rampage. 

As she takes a large gulp, Darcy focuses on the burn traveling down her esophagus, numbing the anger and distaste for David and the Capitol. It does its job to calm her down a little and she slowly releases a breath. 

A quiet commotion suddenly comes from the entrance, so she – and a few other spectators – turn to see Isaac Henderson, the Head Gamemaker, make his way through the small crowd of people that has gathered in front of him. He smiles and shakes hands politely as he moves forward, occasionally laughing at empty jokes that are made. 

Darcy’s stomach churns in disgust.

“I’ll be right back,” Darcy mumbles to Tara. 

But before she can stand, Tara places a strong hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?” 

Darcy looks back at her girlfriend, whose face is filled with concern. Darcy tries to smile, an attempt to not cause any worry. “I’m just going to talk to Isaac,” she explains. Tara’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Darcy, no,” she warns. “You can’t. Not here.”

“We have to do something,” Darcy hisses. “I have to do something. I can’t stand it anymore. I’m sick of this never ending vicious circle.”

“I understand and completely agree, but can’t this wait for another time?” Tara asks, the pleading in her tone evident. 

“It might be too late by that point.” Darcy places her hand on top of Tara’s, pulsing it three times before prying it off as she stands. 

Darcy turns to see Isaac chatting to three men at the bar and she rolls her shoulders back, preparing herself for any possible outcome. She begins to walk in their direction, attempting to not make it look obvious. When she reaches the bar, she slides into the empty space behind Isaac and orders another whisky for cover, as her ears tune into the conversation. 

“... being honest, that was an incredible twist. You could well be one of the best Head Gamemakers we’ve had,” one man says. 

“Ah, thank you, Ambrosius,” Isaac replies. “I’ve enjoyed this year a lot. Especially with the next event.”

“Oh, can you tell us anything about it?” another voice says, finding it hard to contain his excitement. 

Isaac pauses for a second and hums. “Let’s just say that I think everyone’s going to be a bit shocked with how things turn out.” 

Darcy’s stomach twists at the confirmation of the next event, as well as the sinister implications. 

The three men all gasp and make comments of approval, and Isaac thanks them again. “It’s been wonderful talking to you gentleman, but I can’t help but feel like I’m taking up all your time,” he continues. “You should enjoy the food and drinks.” 

“Oh, nonsense!” one exclaims. 

“No, please. I insist you have fun,” Isaac encourages. 

Finally, the three men leave and Isaac is alone. 

Now is my chance. One more sip of whisky for good luck.

“Should I be surprised at the fact you’re listening in on my conversations?” 

Damn you, Henderson.

Darcy lets out a dry chuckle and shakes her head. “Ever the observationalist, aren’t you?” 

“It comes with my job, I suppose,” Isaac replies, a smile obvious in his voice. 

Darcy narrows her eyes as she looks at him. He looks incredibly calm, and his gaze is steady. “Go on,” she says. “What are you observing?” 

“You wish to ask me something,” Isaac states. “There’s determination in your eyes. That’s why you approached me in a way that no one else has ever dared to.”

Darcy’s lips form a tight line as she tamps down her frustration. “We’re at a bar, in a pretty public place. What’s so daring about that?” She cocks her head in confusion. 

Isaac’s mouth lifts up at one corner as he tries to hide his smile. “Normally, people request to speak to me.” 

Darcy looks him directly in the eyes. “I guess I’m not normal, then.” 

Isaac studies her for a few seconds and then nods approvingly. “So, why do you want to talk to me?”

“It’s about Nick and Charlie.”

Isaac’s expression instantly becomes serious, and Darcy knows she’s onto something.

“Come with me,” Isaac instructs, before walking away.

Darcy downs the rest of her whisky and rushes after him, trying not to let herself get too excited. She quickly looks around, double checking that nobody has noticed them leave, and then her eyes catch Tara’s. 

For a moment, she feels guilty for not talking this through with Tara properly, but then, Tara nods. A rush of newfound confidence flows through Darcy’s bones. 

I can do this. This is for Nick and Charlie. For Panem. 

Isaac leads them through various winding corridors and they even go down several floors in a lift. Neither of them speak, and Darcy presumes that’s because of who could possibly overhear them. 

Finally, they reach a large, ornate door, and as Isaac approaches, a panel opens up and a hand scanner appears. Isaac places his hand on the screen, waits for a few seconds, and then removes it just as the panel disappears and the doors open. 

At first, the room behind the doors is dim, and Darcy has to squint to try and see the details. But when Isaac steps inside, the lights turn on and Darcy’s jaw drops as she follows.

Underneath the dome ceiling, in the centre of the room, there’s a marble fountain with a stream of water flowing down multiple levels into a small pond. Surrounding the fountain are a variety of flowerbeds embedded in quarter circles, which seem to be growing white roses and lilies. Behind each flowerbed is a cream and gold pillar, adding to the grandiose feeling of the room. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Isaac says quietly. “I come here to think, to take my mind off things. Sometimes I use my time here to plan for the Games, but usually, I think of my past, my family, or occasionally the future, if I’m in a good mood.” The corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction, as if he’s just told himself a joke.

“It’s… gorgeous,” Darcy whispers as she looks around. They walk over to one of the benches circling the fountain and sit down.

“I designed it myself, so we can talk freely here,” Isaac replies. “Why do you want to talk about Nick and Charlie?”

Right down to business, then.

Darcy takes a deep breath and turns to face Isaac. “I want to save them,” Darcy begins. Isaac has no reaction, so she continues. “Since the Games began, I’ve watched them closely. It’s no mistake that they became allies, and it’s no mistake that they get on so well. Together, they’ve got something that I’ve not seen before.”

“And what would that be?” Isaac asks, his voice neutral. When his eyes meet hers, there’s a dangerous glint in them.

“I can see a fire in them both. I think they’re a sign of hope for the future – a better future. I see myself and Tara in them. They’re sick of the world we live in, just like hundreds of thousands of people in Panem are. They’re just two individuals seemingly destined to be together in a fucked up society with every odd against them.”

“Do you realise what you’re asking?” Isaac asks with a quirked brow. “The fact that what you’re implying is treason? And for what?” he leans closer to her, his eyes searching her face for… something. “For two lovestruck teenage boys?”

Darcy feels her throat dry, realising Isaac’s right – that’s exactly what she’s implying. 

Fuck it. What do I have to lose? 

“I know you’ve heard about the uprisings,” Darcy continues. “The people are angry, Isaac. They always have been, long before you and I came into the picture. All they need is a reason and now they have two : Nick and Charlie. These two kids falling in love are proof that if we work together as a country, instead of continuously letting ourselves reap what our predecessors sowed, we don’t need to sacrifice our future children to continue to survive. We could stop the Games once and for all.” 

Isaac stares at her, his eyes piercing through to her soul. She’s never noticed how scrutinising his gaze is before. “And how would we stop the Games?” he asks challengingly.

“We let Nick and Charlie win. Introduce a new rule, or say there’s been a glitch in the system or… or… I don’t know, but we need something,” Darcy replies defiantly. “If it comes to it, I’m ready to fly in there and rescue them myself.”

Isaac looks away, studying a rose next to him. He reaches over and swiftly plucks it from the bush, as if the conversation has suddenly bored him. “Oh, that’s a brilliant plan. Completely foolproof,” he remarks dryly.

“Come on, Isaac,” Darcy finds herself on the verge of begging now. “You have the power and opportunity to do something about it. You create these Games. You have a vantage point, which means you can destroy it from the inside.”

Isaac swiftly inhales the rose before discarding it with a wave of his hand. It lands in the fountain causing a ring of ripples around it. “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus…” he utters quietly towards the rose before finally looking at Darcy. “I could get killed for this,” he states simply, as if he were talking about what he had for lunch. However, Darcy can see the trepidation in his eyes.

“Three years ago, the last Head Gamemaker was killed for a mishap with berries. You could die for literally anything. Everyone is being watched at some point in their lives.”

“It’s an incredibly high risk, Darcy,” Isaac warns. 

“You should know that I of all people know about high risk,” Darcy retorts. “The higher risk always means a better reward.”

“Yes, well it’s very easy to gamble when it’s not your fortune, isn’t it?” Isaac replies with disapproval etched into his features. 

Darcy sighs and runs a hand through her hair in frustration. “I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

“Gambling is a way of buying hope on credit,” Isaac interrupts sternly, but Darcy doesn’t let it phase her.

“I can help you plan everything. Tara has a few ideas already. I’ll probably be able to get a few more people on our side too, and I can get in touch with some old contacts. I have a good feeling about it, Isaac. Please believe me.” She stares directly into Isaac’s eyes, a further attempt at telling him how serious she is about this. 

“Darcy,” Isaac frowns and she can already see the rejection forming in his eyes.

I’m losing him.

“This could be our only chance to change Panem for the better, Isaac,” she persists. “With or without your help, I’m going to try and save them. But we both know our chances at succeeding are a million times better if you agree to this.” 

Isaac grimaces and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his finger. It’s only then Darcy realises he pricked himself on a thorn earlier. “I don't–”

“Don’t what?” Darcy interrupts, her voice trembling with anger. “Don’t want to die? People die every day. You will die one day. I guess the main question is this: do you wanna die being a fucking coward, or do you want to die knowing you tried to make a difference?”

Darcy sees him visibly gulp, his eyes widen with realisation. Her stomach twists with anticipation. He parts his lips, as if he’s about to respond, when the door slides open with a mechanical whirr. 

The pair of them look in that direction to see one of the Gamemakers step through the entrance. Darcy glares at him, practically sending daggers into his chest, but he remains unfazed. 

“Sir, sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in the Control Room,” the Gamemaker states. 

“I’ll be right there,” Isaac replies with a curt nod. 

The Gamemaker nods back and turns on his heel and disappears again. 

Darcy whips her head round, eyes wide with panic and desperation. “Isaac, please.” 

Isaac stands up, smoothing out his suit and turns to face Darcy. “Before I go, I have one last thing to ask you.”

“What is it?” Darcy replies quickly, ready to promise anything if it ensures Isaac’s alliance. 

“What do you know about riddles and rules?” 

Darcy recoils a little, taken aback by the question, and frowns. “What? How is that relevant?”

Isaac smirks. “Two people are playing chess. They both win. How is this possible?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Darcy mutters, scowling at Isaac.

He keeps his eyes focused on her, almost encouraging her to think about the riddle. She sighs heavily, lowering her head to try to concentrate and repeats his words over and over in her mind.

It takes a moment, but somehow, the answer pops into her mind quicker than the bullet train. Her head snaps up and Isaac smiles instantly. 

“See you around,” Isaac merely replies, before he spins around and Darcy is left alone. 

“They were playing two different games, against different opponents,” Darcy whispers to herself. 

Chapter Text

Nick’s woken up by the sound of gentle rain pattering along the birch leaves hanging above them. He looks over at Charlie, who’s still asleep beside him, using their tattered bag as a pillow. His lashes flutter every few seconds, no doubt from fighting off bad dreams, and Nick doesn’t even attempt to refrain from the urge to run his fingers through Charlie’s hair. He’s grown rather fond of the curl’s softness, enjoying the way they twirl with ease around Nick’s finger. Charlie’s features relax from the touch and he stills once more. Neither of them slept very well the night prior after the shared realisation that Harry’s the only tribute left, which was a painful reminder of the reality they both must come to face soon – one of them is going to die.

And Nick refuses to let it be Charlie.

Nick does his best not to wake Charlie as he comes to a stand, but by the time he’s standing straight, Charlie’s already sitting up. “Everything okay?” Charlie asks with a worried expression, his hand reaching for his bow. Nick nods, squatting down to press a kiss against Charlie’s forehead.

We might be overdoing it on the PDA, but who cares? I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna have this for.

“Everything’s fine, Char,” Nick murmurs, his voice coming out raspier than he’d expected. He silently hopes Charlie thinks it’s because he’s just woken up and not because he’s thinking about his impending demise. “I’m just going to do a quick walk around the perimeter and make sure he’s not here.”

Charlie nods and shuffles upwards, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He picks up the quill of arrows and his bow before handing Nick the backpack. “Right, let’s go then.”

“I’ll be right back,” Nick begins to argue, but the younger boy shakes his head.

“You are not leaving me behind!” Charlie interjects firmly. “Together, remember?” 

Nick feels guilt brewing in his stomach, morphing into unease at the hint of fear in Charlie’s eyes. He realises that Charlie’s right – if they split up, their chance of surviving decreases immensely. Nick nods and holds his hand out for Charlie to take.

“Together,” he promises. That seems to put Charlie at ease and they begin to walk around the small perimeter of their camp, marked by different carvings Nick had put along the trees. They’re subtle enough that they’re easy to miss. That is, unless someone knows what to look for. 

By the time they’ve secured the area, the rain has become more of a mist than droplets, lessening by the minute. When they get back to camp, the sun is high in the sky and not a single cloud can be seen, the unnatural weather a reminder that it's all just a giant Capitol creation

As Charlie sits down, Nick stretches, placing his hands firmly against his lower back. As he leans backwards, he feels a satisfying pop along his spine. Charlie grimaces at the noise as he reaches into the bag and pulls out an apple they’d found yesterday. 

Nick sits down and sets his knife beside him just as Charlie speaks up through a mouth full of apple. “What-th our plan, Ni-th?”

“What?” Nick responds with amusement, though he notices Charlie’s knee is beginning to bounce up and down anxiously.

The younger boy’s face flushes red with embarrassment at his lack of manners, and he swallows before quickly continuing.“We need a plan, don’t we?” he asks, gesturing with the hand holding his apple. “It’s just the three of us now and we technically have the upper hand. We’ve been sitting like ducks the last two days, unsure of whether Harry and the other guy had become allies are not. Now that we know, it’s time to strategise.”

AKA, the reason we’re here, Nick, a nagging voice in his mind adds, reminding him a lot of his older brother.

“Right,” Nick breathes, his brow furrowing with focus. He tries to recall every Hunger Games he’s seen before. “Well, I guess it depends on the approach we want to take. If we want to be subtle, we can wait it out. The problem with that is, Panem’s going to get tired very quickly,” he frowns. “That could force another event and after the two we’ve been through, I don’t feel like experiencing a third.”

“I agree,” Charlie mumbles, turning the apple over and over in his hand. Nick notices there’s only one single bite in it. “I think we need to quit running and face this head on.”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how we find someone who doesn’t want to be found,” Nick rubs the back of his neck.

Charlie’s eyebrows raise as realisation dawns on his face, his eyes twinkling with an idea. “Doesn’t he, though? Harry’s a lot of things but shy is not one of them. If you think about it, Harry fits the Career mold perfectly. He’s cocky, arrogant and proud,” he points out. “He’s probably still in the mindset that he’s the hunter and we’re the prey. I think it’s time we fix that.”

Nick ponders this for a moment, mulling the options over in his head as he tries to plan a course of actions. However, he doesn’t get long to think as he feels the ground slightly rumble beneath him. Both of them come to a stand and Charlie points to Nick’s left, where the birch trees can be seen crashing together as they begin to shift.

“We need to go!” Charlie shouts. Nick picks up his knife, his gaze flicking around wildly as he tries to see what direction is safest to run in. 

“Wait!” Nick orders as he holds his hand out, “We need to see where we’re going!”

The ground is beginning to shake more violently now, the sounds of trees catastrophically colliding with each other almost deafening. At the last second, Nick’s eyes land on a pathway opening to their right. “Over there! Go!”

Charlie turns on his heel sharply and begins to run, Nick right on his tail. Nick’s lungs burn and his heart thumps rapidly in his chest as he keeps his sights on Charlie. Similar to when the first arena event happened, he follows Charlie’s every move as their bodies fall in sync with each other. As they’re running Nick notices the rain from earlier has returned, droplets pelting hard against his cheeks. He wonders if this might be another event, as he’s not seen it rain once since they arrived, but he quickly discards that thought when he realises the rain isn’t affecting anything around them. 

Probably just another obstacle, Nick thinks while jumping over a fallen log. 

As the rain continues to fall, the ground begins to feel slick underneath his feet, and Nick realises that’s exactly what it is. He hears a loud crack! The sound snaps his attention forward just in time to see the top of a pine leaning to the left with a groan, crashing into a birch tree. He barely has a chance to react before he realises it’s falling towards the current pathway. Dirt and debris begin to soar in the air as the pine tree falls, knocking several trees over with it. Adrenaline surges through his body as he runs quicker, desperate to escape this new onslaught. Somehow through the turmoil he manages to grab Charlie’s wrist. 

“Left!” Nick shouts over the commotion and before the younger boy can say anything, Nick uses all of his strength to pull them left. The ground beneath them is nothing but mud at this point, and they both tumble over. Scrambling to their feet, they look behind them to see the trees still rapidly coming forward. 

“There’s no pathway!” Charlie yells back through the chaos. An idea comes to mind that’s so reckless, it’s borderline suicidial. They have about thirty seconds before the wall of trees swallow them whole. He holds his hand out towards Charlie.

“Then we make our own,” he declares firmly. Charlie’s brows pinch together with worry and Nick nods his head in a silent question.

Trust me?

Charlie’s nostrils flare as he hesitates for a split second before he takes Nick’s hand firmly with an unspoken agreement in his eyes.

Always. 

Nick feels a new rush of confidence course through him and without wasting a second, they begin running into the thick of the forest, abandoning the trail laid out in front of them. His eyes are darting around rapidly as the birch trees begin to topple over one another, splintering at their bases and creaking violently, the noise of the trees colliding overpowering any other sound. Out of the corner of Nick’s eye, he sees the ground start to shift around as trees rip apart to create new ones, their roots snapping like exposed nerves. The trees are blurring past them, but Charlie’s touch is a grounding force of encouragement to keep him running. 

Charlie deserves a softer death than being squished by trees, he tells himself, repeating it like a mantra. 

He continues to keep an eye out for anything that can guide them as they swerve between timbering trees and leap over jagged roots, the forest becoming more catastrophic every second they run. The forest floor is shaking viciously, making it hard to keep their footing because of the mud created by the rain and the sun that was once hanging high in the sky is nowhere to be found now. Instead, it’s replaced by the thick branches of the canopy currently intertwining with one another. Just as he begins to think that this might be the end for them, he sees it.

An opening.

To their right is a narrow gap between two still-standing trees, seemingly untouched by the maelstrom behind them. It’s small, just barely wide enough for them to both fit through, but it’s an opening nonetheless. 

“This way!” Nick shouts, though his voice is barely audible. He pulls on Charlie’s hand and together, they dive through the gap, just as a tree comes crashing down behind them. The force of the tree falling causes the moving floor to propel them forward, Charlie falling on his back and Nick falling on his arms. Nick turns over just in time to see the trees come to a halt, stray leaves flying through the air as the forest settles once more. 

The earth is no longer shuddering from the movement, and Nick can’t find it in himself to care that the rain is coming down harder than before. He relishes in it, feeling relief wash over him as his shirt becomes soaked because they made it out alive. They didn’t follow the path being made for them, and yet…

They survived anyway. 

“Holy fuck,” Charlie wheezes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. “Holy fuck, we did it!” 

Nick laughs, though it sounds more like stuttering pants, as he places a hand against his chest. He sits up and looks around to see where they’ve ended up, realising they’re on the edge of a meadow. It’s not nearly the size of the cornucopia’s field, but it’s still rather vast and he notices that the trees surrounding it are a new type: oak trees. However, their leaves aren’t green or yellow or even pink – they’re a pristine shade of white. 

“What the..?” Nick whispers as he comes to a stand. Charlie follows suit and they slowly walk towards the grass, their boots splashing through puddles that have formed in the divots of the ground. The rain is falling harder now, wet and cold as it pelts against their faces. The wind is a lot harsher than before, whipping the raindrops in random directions. The dark grey clouds above are forming together, the warmth of the sun nowhere to be found. 

“It’s the final show,” Charlie blurts out grimly. Their eyes meet and Nick notices the younger boy’s irises have become a stormy blue. “There’s only three of us left, right? We’re in the endgame now.”

Nick feels his stomach drop at the realisation that Charlie’s right. Why else would the gamemakers introduce a whole new forest out of nowhere? He looks back out along the meadow and scans the treelines. If they’ve been brought here, then surely that means…

“Lapdog!” a voice screams out, followed by a clap of thunder across the sky. Nick turns around, his eyes landing on Harry Greene’s murderous glare. Harry’s hair is soaking wet and his body’s caked in mud from the neck down. In one hand he holds an axe and in the other, a machete. 

Nick hears the metal of Charlie’s arrow scrape against his bow as he draws it back, his jaw clenched as he peers at Harry. Harry actually laughs and begins walking towards them. Charlie scoffs beside Nick before letting the arrow fly, but Harry crosses his weapons, deflecting the arrow with ease. Charlie growls and grabs another arrow, shooting it hard and fast. His frustration gets the better of him because the arrow whizzes right past Harry’s ear. Harry raises the axe and throws it in a swift motion, grinning devilishly while doing so. 

“No!” Nick shouts, tackling Charlie to the ground so the axe misses both of them. Nick hears the heavy thud of the axe hit the earth behind them, followed by the squelching of Harry’s footsteps coming closer. He sees Harry running towards them, machete poised to strike. He glances back to where the discarded axe is. “Charlie, roll!” 

Charlie rolls over just as Nick uses the slickness of the mud to his advantage, making himself slide with his boots so he can grab the handle of the axe. Harry yells just as he swings and Nick holds the axe out forward, his shoulders jerking back as the edge of the machete buries itself in the belly of the axe’s handle. Harry growls in frustration, pushing against the wood with a malicious spark in his eye. 

“Nick!” Charlie cries out, the worry in his voice evident.

“Run!” Nick grits out just as he hooks his foot around Harry’s ankle, causing the other boy to fall. He quickly gets on top of Harry, punching him square in the jaw twice. 

“I’m not just going to leave you!” Charlie snaps. Anger courses through Nick and his head whips up to meet Charlie’s stare. Charlie’s face pales and even though Nick can’t see his own face, he can picture it clearly. It’s a face he’s seen before, in the mirrors of the training centre back in District 2. A face full of hatred and fury, eyes void of any human emotion and teeth exposed like some rabid canine. 

The face of a Career.

“Just fucking listen to me and run Charlie!” Nick orders coldly, his tone as sharp as a blade. Charlie’s lower lip trembles ever so slightly but he doesn’t respond, instead slowly stepping backwards before running towards the treeline. 

Unfortunately as he watches Charlie make it to safety, Nick feels Harry’s fist connect with his jaw. A shattering pain blossoms out from the force and Nick can’t stop himself from falling over. Harry laughs maniacally, getting on top of Nick and punching him again, his knuckles colliding with Nick’s cheekbone. 

“I told you to pick a side,” Harry grits out before throwing another punch, the blow landing against his temple. Nick’s head jerks against his will, spots filling his vision. “I warned you and yet, like a stupid mutt, you didn’t listen!” 

Nick loses count of how many times Harry punches him, but he can’t fight back. Harry’s legs have Nick’s arms pinned to his sides and there’s too much mud for him to get the proper footing to buck the boy off. His head snaps to the side as another brutal blow lands, white hot pain exploding along the bridge of his nose. His vision is blurring around the edges and as blood begins to trickle down his face from his nose, the metallic taste of iron fills his mouth, mixing with the rain that is relentlessly pouring from the sky. Nick’s hearing starts to muffle as his ear canals are flooded by the water gathering around them, the torrential downpour turning the meadow into a swamp. The puddles have merged together, now creating a layer of water across the grass. 

“You’re not victor material, are you?” Harry sneers as his hand twists the collar of Nick’s shirt, though his voice is garbled by the water swirling around in Nick’s ears. He pulls Nick forward so they're inches apart, his hearing returning briefly. “Y’know, I could make your death merciful. Just a simple twist of the neck and it’d be lights out.” Harry spits as he looks down his nose at Nick. “Unfortunately for you, I only have mercy for my friends.”

Harry grabs a knife from a thigh holster he’s wearing and slowly drags the tip across Nick’s cheek before jerking it sharply, nicking the skin. The rain only adds to the stinging pain but Nick doesn’t make a sound as he feels the blood drip down his cheek, instead gritting his teeth harshly. His arm moves against his will though and Harry’s response is applying more pressure with his knee. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two earlier,” Harry continues, the tip of his knife trailing along Nick’s cheekbone and towards his eye. “Not only did you fucking ally with the weakest tribute, you actually fancy him, don’t you?”

Nick’s breath halts in his throat – partially because Harry is right and partially because it’s the first time he’s heard it said out loud – and that’s apparently all the confirmation Harry needs. He belts out an ugly laugh, water dripping from his hair and onto Nick’s face. 

“Oh my god, you cannot be serious! Oh, I bet David is having a fit, finding out his little brother is a fag! ”

Suddenly, Nick sees a silver arrow land in Harry’s bicep, making the Career cry out in pain as his torso twists to the side. The knife in Harry’s hand jerks forward as he topples to the side, the blade swiftly cutting across Nick’s left eye. A searing pain immediately follows and Nick screams in agony. His head is spinning and he tries to blink a couple of times, but his left eye refuses to open, the muscles in it not working properly.

He attempts to focus his vision desperately, however the rain is making the simple task impossible. Panting harshly, he slowly looks back to where the arrow came from. He sees a figure running towards him, though it’s blurred by the rain and his lack of sight. 

“Nick, get up!” it shouts urgently, but the voice sounds distorted as it echoes in his brain. 

He raises a hand to block the rain so he can see better and almost startles at the sight of Sahar. At least, he thinks it’s Sahar. Her face is fuzzy around the edges, the voice not quite matching her normal tone. Her hair is soaking wet and sticking to her face as she crouches down by his side. He feels the warmth of her hand on his cheek as she shakes his head. But when his eyes lock with her brown ones, it’s no longer Sahar he’s looking at. 

It’s his mum. 

“Nick, you need to get up now,” she says firmly, her eyebrows pinched together with worry. The corners of her mouth are turned downwards as she looks over at Harry. When she looks back down at him, her eyes turn blue and suddenly it’s Charlie.

“Char?” Nick asks with confusion, his mind reeling and his eye throbbing.

“Nick, Harry’s–” Charlie tries to speak but he’s interrupted as Harry’s boot kicks his chest, knocking him back onto the ground. Charlie cries out in pain as Harry steps over Nick, which seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

His arm wraps around Harry’s leg, tripping the other boy, and Nick pulls with all of his strength, feeling Harry’s legs land on his chest. He blindly reaches for the axe, his hand wrapping around the handle of the machete that’s still stuck in it and he swings it, the eye of the axe hitting the base of Harry’s spine. This earns him a kick in the ribs from the other but Nick’s newfound rush of adrenaline doesn’t let it affect him. Instead, he rolls over and when he begins to stand, he notices how high the water has risen.

Charlie scrambles to his feet, slipping a few times, but Nick rushes over and helps him up. He glances back with his good eye to see Harry wiping the mud off his face and he pulls Charlie’s hand. They manage to get a bit of a head start, running towards the forest of oak trees. At first, it’s a struggle to only focus with one eye, but he manages to make it work. 

Years ago, after Tara’s incident, the cadets in District 2 were forced to train with blindfolds and eyepatches, forcing them to rely on their other instincts if ever finding themselves visually impaired. Nick had griped and complained about it for weeks to Sahar and Sami, saying it was unrealistic and futile – that it was only slowing him down and messing up his scores. But with every practice, Nick got more in tune with his body’s senses, and soon he’d managed to fend attackers off while blindfolded. Now, as they charged deeper into the forest, Nick realises just how wrong he was about it being unnecessary.

“Climb!” Nick points towards a particularly tall tree ahead of them. Charlie nods, slinging his bow over his shoulder. 

As they get to the base, Nick locks his fingers together as he squats down to give Charlie a boost. He grunts quietly at the grittiness of Charlie’s boot digging into his palms, his shoulders screaming from the strain being put on his already worn-down body, but he pushes on as he lifts his boyfriend up. Just as Charlie’s boot lifts away, Nick’s rammed into the trunk of the tree as Harry charges him. Sharp pain jolts through his abdomen as he falls down, the bark scraping against his cheek. He feels Harry grip the collar of his shirt before he’s promptly jerked back. 

Nick begins to fall, but he doesn’t lose his footing. Instead, he uses the momentum to roll back over his shoulder, coming to his feet just in time to dodge Harry’s punch, though only just. He punches Harry back, a crack of lightning flashing overhead. He kicks the other square in the chest, Harry disappearing into the water behind them. Nick turns to scale the same tree as Charlie, but realises that’s leading Harry right to him. He looks around frantically and as Harry emerges from the water, Nick spots a tree about ten feet away.

At least I hope it’s ten feet, my perception is pretty fucked.

He swiftly kicks Harry in the ribs before sprinting towards the opposing tree, noticing the water is up to his knees now. He jumps up, his hands managing to grasp one of the lower branches.  He once again takes advantage of the momentum his body has while simultaneously pulling up. He curls his body around the bough, noticing the width is abnormally large for a real oak tree, and strategically swings his legs to lock them around where the base meets the trunk. As he manages to get proper footing, Harry pulls out two knives from his jacket pockets and stabs the tree, pulling himself up. 

This fucker doesn’t give up, does he? Nick thinks with annoyance before glancing up to see where he can climb next. He spots a branch that’s just out of reach and he inhales deeply as he launches himself off the branch. He manages to grab it, swinging back and forth before launching himself towards the next limb and then the next, treating each one like the hanging hoops they had in the Training Centre. 

One by one, he manages to get a three branch gap between him and Harry, but the higher they go, the thinner the branches are. He looks down at the ground, his eyes widening at the sea forming below. The branch he’d just jumped onto moments ago is just barely staying afloat, the white leaves spread out amongst the waves. Harry’s almost caught up to him now, his face red with anger. He hears Harry yelp as one of the branches he grabs breaks, leaving him dangling. 

“Nick!” Charlie’s voice echoes across the sky and Nick’s head snaps to the right, his good eye landing on the younger boy who’s standing on the limb of an adjacent tree. A new sense of hope blossoms behind his ribs at the sight of the other and damn him, Nick actually fucking smiles.

He’s okay!

Charlie waves his hand in the air, signalling for Nick to dodge. Nick’s confused for a brief moment before he sees Charlie hold his hand up, holding an axe. He throws it, and Nick manages to lean back just in time to watch the axe cleave into the wood. Nick pulls it out just as he sees Harry’s hand come into view. He steps back just as Harry swipes a knife with his free hand, nearly stumbling but finding his balance. He watches the other boy jump up, the tree limb he's standing on jostling with Harry’s movement. Nick loses his balance this time, slipping off one end. 

As he falls back, he feels a firm branch smack into his shoulders, jolting him forwards. He swings his axe blindly, praying for the universe to not let this be how he dies. But by sheer dumb luck he feels the bit of the axe wedge into something, though his shoulders still jerk in pain at the force. He uses both hands to grab onto the handle and looks below him to see if there’s anywhere he can land. However, all he sees is a murky sea as muddy water sloshes around the base of the tree.

He glances up to see that the edge of the axe has somehow hooked onto a large knot and he pants with exertion as he examines it, his body and soul beyond drained. Gritting his teeth, he gathers up the last of his energy to pull himself up by the axe’s handle, tears escaping both eyes as every single nerve in his body burns with agony. He manages to get a partial grasp on the branch, only just managing to wrap his arm around it when a sudden scream passes him, followed by hands grabbing at his ankles. The harshness of Harry’s weight makes Nick’s body feel as if it’s splitting in two. 

“Agh!” Nick cries out, his fingernails digging into the bark of the tree as he tries to hold on tightly. He manages to kick one of Harry’s hands off him but the other one grips even tighter. 

“No!” Harry pleads, the sincerity in his voice catching Nick off guard. Nick glances over his shoulder, trying to see the other’s face but not being able to. “I can’t die like this, please!” 

Is he fucking serious? Nick inwardly sneers. He’s about to kick Harry in the jaw when the other speaks again, his words causing Nick’s foot to freeze.

“You and I are the same, you know,” the boy sobs, his fingers squeezing Nick’s ankle so harshly that he’s beginning to lose feeling in it. “We both trained for this our whole lives–”

“Stop talking!” Nick interrupts, though his voice isn’t holding the anger that it should. “I don’t want to fucking hear it, Harry! You and I are nothing alike.”

“Aren’t we?” Harry shouts from below him. “Let me take a wild guess, then. You were six when you attended your first cadet class. You were able to fend off anyone who tried to attack you by the time you were nine, and by the age of eleven you could kill anyone who got in your way. Does that sound about right?”

“Shut up!” he spits, shaking his leg in a violent attempt to free himself of this weight, of Harry. “I’ve never trained with the intent of killing someone. I trained because I had to–”

“You think I wanted to kill someone?” the other bites back. “Do you think any of us wanted this? Some of us were friends before we entered here.” Nick pauses for a moment, mulling the thought over.

“I can’t trust you,” he says finally with a shake of his head. “You’ve been after me from the beginning, after Charlie –”

“That’s what the fucking Games are!” Harry screams with despair. “You either kill or be killed. I was just doing what they told me to do.” 

Nick can feel Harry’s grasp slipping and he takes advantage of it, pulling himself onto more of the branch. He could shake Harry off at this point, but he doesn’t. Somehow, it feels… wrong. Nick’s head is throbbing and he’s struggling to think straight because part of him actually feels sorry for his foe. Though he’d never say it outloud, Harry is right – they really aren’t that different. 

They just chose different paths.

“We were raised as soldiers, Nick, not kids. Soldiers never question the order given to them, right?” Harry asks, his voice thick with emotion. “So why am I suddenly the bad guy for following the rules?”

Nick’s eye is blurry with tears as he bites his lower lip to stifle a sob. I used to be that way… Until I met Charlie.

Before Nick can say anything, Harry screams in pain and his hand lets go of Nick’s ankle. Nick seizes the weightless feeling and props himself up on the branch with his arms, crawling onto it the rest of the way and looking over the edge. His eyes meet Harry’s as the boy falls, his face covered with fear before he’s submerged into the running water. Right as he lands, a bright flash of light appears as lightning strikes down, charging the water with electricity. He inhales sharply, his heart dropping into his stomach as a loud cannon can be heard in the sky, followed by the soft rumble of thunder. When Nick looks up, his eye lands on Charlie, who’s lowering his bow. 

For the first time, since the Games started, the younger boy’s quiver is empty.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

The rain is torrential. The sky is darkening every second. His body aches. 

Charlie is clinging onto the tree for dear life. 

He blinks away the raindrops from his eyes as he shuffles around the tree trunk to sit on a more secure branch. Once secure, he dares to look back at the tree Nick and Harry are on and his stomach fills with dread. 

Despite taking an arrow to his arm, Harry has still managed to climb up the tree to chase after Nick. Charlie squints through the haze of the rain as he tightens his grip on his bow. He bends his free arm back to pick up another arrow, only to realise that there’s only one left. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

His plan of shooting Harry until he falls off the tree is immediately discarded and now, all he can do is wait for the right moment. He looks down for a split second to make sure the arrow is secured when he hears a scream. 

His head whips up to see that Harry has latched onto Nick, grabbing his legs, and Nick is barely hanging onto the tree branch. Nick begins to thrash his legs around, managing to shake one of Harry’s hands off, but somehow, Harry holds on with one arm. Charlie can see that they’re in the middle of some kind of debate, as he can hear their raised voices shout back and forth, but the level of the noise the downpour is creating is making it difficult to understand.

Whatever it is, it can’t be good. 

Charlie takes a deep breath, trying not to let his worry for Nick’s life get in the way as he pulls the arrow back and aims it at Harry. 

“Come on,” he whispers, pleading with the universe for some kind of opening. 

A moment later, a flicker of hope erupts in Charlie’s heart when he sees Harry slowly slip lower down Nick’s legs. He watches as Nick pulls himself up onto the branch with gritted teeth. Harry seems to shout something again, the effort moving his body into a position that gives Charlie a definitive shot. 

Charlie releases the arrow without a second thought. 

It pierces through Harry’s wrist and the boy cries out in agony as his grip loosens. Nick is freed.

Time seems to slow down as Harry falls through the air, eventually hitting the water. Suddenly there’s a bright flash and a loud rumble as a bolt of lightning hits the water only a few metres away from the tree Charlie is in. Charlie gasps and plasters himself against the tree, the bark painfully scratching his face as the heat from the lightning travels through the air and down through the tree. Charlie grimaces as he struggles to breathe for a split second.

Then he hears a cannon, quickly followed by a soft rumble of thunder. 

Charlie swallows thickly, chest heaving as the cannon echoes in his mind. He blinks a few times to clear the rain that's dripping down from his hair, and he realises that the murky water below has begun to somehow drain away – the rain has stopped as quickly as it started. He pulls his eyes away from the ground to look back up at Nick, who is already staring at him looking bloody, dishevelled and shocked. They both stay in their trees, seemingly frozen in place. 

Charlie’s arms and legs are aching from holding on to the tree for so long, but the fear that is still coursing through his veins is making it almost impossible to begin his descent down. 

But then he starts to feel a warmth beneath his palms. He jerks back slightly so he doesn’t accidentally fall and sees a small amount of smoke coming from within the tree. 

“Shit,” he says to himself. 

That seems to knock his brain into gear and he pulls his bow over his shoulder as he scans below to plan his route down the trunk. He slowly loosens his foot, gripping onto the branches on either side of the trunk. His heart hammers against his chest as he can feel the heat gradually increase with every move he makes. 

Eventually, he gets low enough that he feels comfortable to jump the rest of the way and he lands with a grunt, putting out his hands so he doesn’t faceplant into the sodden ground. He pushes himself up and immediately starts to make his way towards Nick, who has also started to climb down. The mud and newly exposed tree roots make it almost impossible for Charlie to run, but he still tries anyway. 

“Nick!” Charlie calls out, his voice wobbling, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

Nick lands awkwardly nearby, his body visibly exhausted by everything he just went through. He collapses onto the ground, leaning against the bottom of the tree. 

“Nick,” Charlie repeats as he finally reaches Nick's side. 

Nick goes to respond but as soon as he opens his mouth, his head whips to the side and he throws up everything that seems to be in his stomach. 

“Oh my god,” Charlie gasps, and kneels down beside him, not caring about the mud seeping through his clothes. 

Nick convulses a few more times, spitting out the last of the vomit and saliva in his mouth, while Charlie can only rub his back.  

Nick gasps for air as he falls back against the tree, his face scrunched up in pain. He blindly reaches a hand out and whispers, “Char…” 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Charlie says softly, taking Nick’s hand in his. 

Nick’s grip is intense but Charlie doesn’t care. Somehow they’re both still alive, and that’s all that matters. 

Charlie presses a gentle kiss to Nick’s knuckles and looks back up at the older boy's face, fully taking in the extent of his injuries for the first time. 

“Oh my god, your eye,” Charlie whispers, his tone a mixture of worry and horror. 

Along with the forming bruises covering most of his face, there’s a large cut starting at the edge of Nick’s left eyebrow, going through his eye and down to the middle of his cheek. His eyelid is shut but it’s obvious that there’s been extensive damage due to the amount of blood that is slowly oozing from the socket. 

Nick brings his other hand up, his fingers shakily reaching out to touch the wound, but Charlie stops him. “No, don’t touch it. You could make it worse.”

There’s a sudden sound of faint crackling, prompting him to slowly look back at the tree he was in a few minutes prior. He sees that the bark has split down the middle, a bright orange glow coming from within, flames slowly licking the outside of the tree. 

“Okay, I know you’re in an extreme amount of pain, but you have to get up. We need to get to a safer part of the arena, okay?” Charlie says sternly, cupping the good side of Nick’s face. 

Nick merely nods, not quite present, and plants his hand onto the ground, pushing himself up. Charlie follows, supporting him by his arm until they’re both upright. “Come on, we’ve got this,” Charlie continues encouragingly. 

He wraps his free arm around Nick’s waist as they slowly hobble away from the trees. Charlie looks up to see if there’s a clear path, but immediately stops in his tracks as his eyes land on Harry’s mangled body laying in the middle of the forest floor. Harry’s arms are spread out on either side, the arrow still sticking out of his wrist; his neck is twisted at an awkward angle and one of his legs is in the most unnatural position Charlie’s ever seen.

He can practically feel the acid twisting and bubbling in his stomach and he has to look away. He forces the image of Harry’s body to the back of his mind and begins to walk forward, practically dragging Nick along with him. Luckily, the random flood seemed to have uprooted a few trees ahead, creating a new pathway. Charlie adjusts his grip on Nick and leads them in that direction, the mud making it a lot harder than it should be. 

They clamber towards the opening and as they get closer, Charlie sees the glint of the cornucopia appear in the distance. That’s when it hits him that they can use the cornucopia as shelter without any possible threat because they are now the last two remaining tributes. 

Fuck. We’re the last two left.

The sound of Nick groaning pulls Charlie out of his bittersweet realisation; Charlie internalises the oncoming dread, instead putting all of his energy into getting them to safety.

“We’re almost there, we can do this,” Charlie grunts, partially to Nick and partially to himself. 

Finally, after what feels like hours of trudging through thick slime and broken branches, they reach the cornucopia’s centre. 

“Okay, there’s a few steps before we can sit down,” Charlie tells Nick through unshed tears, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry with relief as he guides the other towards the platform. 

“‘’M so tired, Char,” Nick mumbles, his head lolling forward. The movement almost causes them to collapse onto the ground, but Charlie keeps his grip firm and somehow they stay standing. 

“I know, so am I, but we have to get up there. It’s not far, I promise,” Charlie gently begs. “I need you to stay awake, just a little longer, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Nick manages to breathe out pathetically, sounding as if he’s fighting tears of his own.

With a few grunts and gasps of pain, Charlie manages to get Nick up to the centre of the cornucopia and underneath the roof. He pulls Nick’s arm away from his shoulders and slowly guides the older boy onto the floor, where he props him up against the wall.

A sheen of sweat has formed across Nick’s brow and his chest is heaving up and down with effort. Charlie flops down beside him, pulling off the bow and his backpack and placing it on the floor next to him. For the first time since they woke up, Charlie allows his body to relax – as much as it can considering what they just went through – and his head falls back, gently resting against Nick’s. 

Charlie only gets a few seconds to catch his breath before he hears a chiming sound that’s become all too familiar echo through the air. He looks up to see a parachute gliding towards them, landing just at the edge of the platform. Immediately scrambling to his feet, he rushes over to the box attached to the parachute. He opens it to see a note on top. 

Clean his eye before putting this on

It will hurt

Just hang in there

Charlie reads it over and over before flipping the card over, looking for a signature, but there’s not a single indication of who sent it. 

Let’s worry about that later. 

Charlie looks inside the box to find an eyepatch staring back at him. He picks it up and is surprised by its weight. He holds it by the edges, turning it over to see metal circles and small tubes connected to each other. Charlie’s eyes widen at the sight and he immediately puts it back into the box, before carrying it back over to Nick. 

“What is it?” Nick mumbles, his right eye squinting with exhaustion. 

“It’s some sort of eyepatch,” Charlie explains. “I think there’s a chance we can save your eye.”

Nick tries to lift his head, wincing as he does so. “Who sent it?” His voice is a little stronger now, as if recharged with hope. 

“It doesn’t say.” Charlie shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Hold on, I need to find water.” 

Charlie is up before Nick can reply. His eyes scan the space quickly, searching through the weapons haphazardly scattered across the floor. He walks around the table, praying for something that could hold water. He moves further towards the back, checking every nook and cranny he can find until finally, tucked away behind a box, he sees a bag. 

“Please, please, please be water,” he whispers. 

He falls to his knees, ripping the bag open as soon as he picks it up. At first he just finds a bunch of rope and matches, which he throws to the side without a second thought. Then he sees it. A silver decanter on top of a blanket. He grabs the decanter and lets out a sob when he notices how heavy it is. He picks up the blanket with his other hand and hurries back over to Nick. 

“Nick?” Charlie places a hand on Nick’s shoulder, shaking him slightly to make sure he’s still awake. 

“Mhm?” Nick grumbles, his good eye fluttering open. 

“I’m going to clean out your eye as best I can, then I’ll put this eyepatch thing on it, okay?” Charlie explains. 

Nick nods slowly, the fatigue quickly overcoming him again. He looks extremely pale and Charlie knows he has to act fast.

Charlie sits up on his knees and unscrews the top of the decanter, pouring the water onto the edge of the blanket. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry, just try and stay still.” 

He hears Nick inhale sharply in anticipation and Charlie feels his lungs do the same as he gently places the blanket at the edge of Nick’s cut. Nick barely winces, so Charlie slowly drags the material around his face, wiping away the blood as best as he can. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Nick mumbles with a weak smile. 

Charlie grimaces. “I’m not done yet.” 

Nick’s face falls at that but he nods anyway, allowing Charlie to continue. 

Charlie takes a deep breath once more and inches closer to Nick’s eye. As he places the makeshift cloth against the other’s eyelid, Nick hisses loudly which is quickly followed by a groan. A faint vein appears along Nick’s neck as he grits his teeth, his jaw muscles convulsing. His breathing is erratic but he stays still, pushing through the pain, and Charlie bites his lip to stop himself from crying. He hates seeing Nick in this much pain, even more so when it’s necessary pain. Charlie actually debates on stopping for a brief moment, worried that he’s putting Nick’s body through too much stress, but he reminds himself that this is the only way to help. 

As Charlie continues to slowly swipe away the blood from Nick’s eyelashes, the patient starts to become restless. Nick slams his hands onto the floor, almost pushing himself away from Charlie, but instead he ends up bending his knee, followed by stomping his foot onto the ground. 

“Charlie, wait,” he groans through heavy breaths. “Stop, i-it’s too m-much!” He weakly attempts to grab Charlie’s wrist, but misses and his hand falls onto his lap instead. 

“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way,” Charlie apologises, momentarily pulling his hand away to give Nick some relief. “I think I need to pull your eyelid back.” 

“Fuck,” Nick utters, his voice trembling. “Fine.” 

Charlie nods grimly and rotates the blanket to a clean section. He pours more water over the blanket, making sure there’s enough to ring out over Nick’s eye. He balls it up into his fist and places his other hand on Nick’s forehead, his thumb near his eyelid. 

“Three… two…” Charlie swiftly pulls Nick’s eyelid back and squeezes the water from the cloth over the open wound. 

Nick immediately cries out in agony, his legs squirming more than ever as one of the older boy’s hands grips Charlie’s thigh harshly, causing him to curse quietly. He tries to turn his head away but Charlie keeps it in place firmly, tears sliding down his cheeks as Nick continues to scream. His voice becomes raw as the shouting morphs into a sob, his grasp on Charlie loosening. Charlie’s lips part in surprise, taken aback by the damage done to Nick’s eyeball. 

He suddenly feels a lot less guilty about killing Harry now.

Charlie releases a slew of apologies and the water finally runs out, so he lets go of Nick’s eyelid. 

“Please, Char,” Nick pleads through gasps. “I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

“I just need to wipe your eye and put the patch on, and then I promise we’ll be done,” Charlie replies soothingly. 

Nick whimpers and pulls his lips into a thin line. Charlie’s heart breaks at the sight. He can only imagine how helpless Nick feels right now. From being able to fend off multiple people at once to not being able to move without hurting, not being able to use one of his basic senses – it’s fucking awful to comprehend. 

He isn’t sure if this is what Nick needs, but Charlie decides it’s the right thing anyway, for both of them. He swings his leg over Nick’s lap and straddles him, cupping Nick’s face with his free hand. 

“Focus on me, okay?” Charlie whispers. “I don’t care if you hurt me, just hold on to me, as tight as you need to. It’s worth it if it helps you.” 

“Okay,” Nick whispers back. 

Charlie braces himself before he gently presses the blanket against Nick’s eye and wipes the water and blood away. Nick instantly screams out and grips onto Charlie’s hips, his fingernails digging into Charlie’s skin. Charlie grits his teeth through the pain, because it’s nothing in comparison to what Nick must be feeling.

Once he’s gotten as much of it off as he could, he quickly leans over and grabs the eyepatch. Nick’s breathing is ragged, occasionally filled with small grunts as he tries to recover. Just as Charlie picks up the patch, he feels Nick’s head fall onto his shoulder, so he slowly sits back, allowing Nick the time he needs for comfort.

“It’s almost over, okay?” Charlie runs his fingers through Nick’s damp hair a few times. “Just lean back and let me put this on.” 

Nick takes a few deep breaths before following Charlie’s instructions, tilting his head back against the wall. Charlie stands on his knees to gain some extra height as he lines up the eyepatch with Nick’s eye. It appears to be big enough to cover the entire eye and eyelid, and the way it’s shaped suggests that it’s been made to fit perfectly with Nick’s eye socket. 

Despite the shitty circumstances, the technological side of Charlie’s brain is quite impressed. 

With a deep breath, Charlie places the patch onto Nick’s eye, and it immediately seems to gel with his skin. The pair both seem to hold their breath, waiting for something to happen, but it seems to be okay. That is, until Nick’s face starts to twist in pain again.

“Nick?” Charlie asks, anxiety bubbling in his chest. “Nick, what’s–”

“Ah, fuck!” Nick interrupts in a strangled voice.

Nick brings a hand up to hold the injured side of his head as his breathing grows heavy again, quickening until he lets out the most agonising roar Charlie’s ever heard. His legs tremble beneath Charlie as his torso practically seizes, his head turning from side to side. Charlie can see Nick reach towards the eyepatch, as if out of instinct, but it’s completely sealed onto his skin. All Charlie can do is sit on Nick’s lap, allowing the other to use his hand as a coping mechanism, his fingers being squished to a bloody pulp until Nick’s screams become quieter, his breaths of exhaustion turning into sighs of relief as his body sags back against the wall. 

“Nick?” Charlie whispers. “What happened? Are you okay?” He slowly cups Nick’s face, taking in the silver metal patch that’s now a part of Nick. Charlie’s thumb hovers over the injured area, the start of a bruise already forming around the patch. Nick’s other eye is squeezed shut, as if he’s scared to open it. It pains Charlie’s soul to see him like this.

“I–” Nick swallows. “It’s like… something went in my eye,” he manages through heavy breaths. “I felt things go inside me. But then I felt something go cold and now it doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

Charlie falls forward into Nick’s chest, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he sobs.

Nick’s arms immediately come to envelop Charlie’s body and he pulls him tighter. “It’s okay, I know why you had to do it,” Nick says softly into Charlie’s ear. “Thank you for doing that.” 

Charlie sniffs before pushing back up to look at Nick. His other eye is now open, bloodshot, dull, and full of anguish, but despite that, he has a smile on his face – it’s small and barely there, but it’s a smile nonetheless. 

Nick’s good eye roams all over Charlie’s face, his hand coming up to caress his cheek. Then, his thumb traces over the scab that’s formed at Charlie’s eyebrow and, to Charlie’s surprise, he chuckles weakly. “Hey, we’re matching now.” 

Charlie chokes out a noise that sounds like a mixture of a laugh and a sob. “I think yours is worse than mine.” 

The pair laugh softly and Charlie leans forward, relishing the sound that proves Nick is still alive and relatively okay, and his forehead rests against Nick’s,

“Char,” Nick whispers, his voice becoming serious. “Can I kiss you? Please?” 

Charlie doesn’t reply. Instead, he brings his hand to the nape of Nick’s neck and closes the small gap between them, and their lips meet. It’s gentle and tentative, but still so full of emotion and need for each other. 

And at this moment, nothing else matters.

Chapter Text

Nick doesn’t know when he drifts off to sleep but when he wakes up, the sun is no longer in the sky. He blinks the sleep away from his eye and a panic settles on him when he doesn’t feel Charlie nearby. He sits forward and looks around rapidly, getting ready to call Charlie’s name out, but comes to a halt when he sees Charlie sitting on the Cornucopia’s platform, his figure illuminated by the moonlight. Nick’s body is exhausted and worn to the bone, but he musters the small amount of energy he gained during his rest to move closer. He doesn’t bother coming to a full stand, instead walking on his knees. 

Charlie looks over his shoulder and his lips curve into a small smile. “Hi,” he says softly. It’s only once Nick sits down next to Charlie that he notices Charlie’s knees are tucked up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. 

“Hey,” he replies, his raw throat burning at the sound. He clears it regardless, wincing as he continues. “Have they shown the fallen tributes yet?”

Charlie shakes his head before resting his chin on his knees again, looking up at the sky. The prosthetic stars twinkle in his sea-blue eyes, the dusty moonlight washing over him. His gaze never waivers as he studies the sky. “Should be any moment now. I’ve noticed it always plays when the moon is fully glowing. How’s your eye?”

Nick shrugs, tenderly touching the cool metal of the patch. The skin around it is still tender, but the actual wound is numb. He’s still not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. “It’s not hurting anymore. Again, thank you–”

“Quit thanking me,” Charlie interrupts softly. “I only did what you would’ve done.”

“I mean it, though. You saved me,” Nick says, his gaze dropping to Charlie’s mouth. 

In more ways than one.

Charlie’s eyes flicker towards Nick’s mouth and a secretive smirk graces his lips. “Well, it’s time I returned the favour, isn’t it? You’ve been saving me since the Games started.”

Nick only shakes his head fondly in response, glancing up at the sky too. He focuses on the twinkling orbs above, a nostalgic feeling budding in his chest. “You know, even though they’re not real, it’s still beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, nodding up towards the sky. Charlie seems to ponder the thought, looking up with doe-like eyes. “We’ve never really gotten the proper chance to look at the stars before.”

Charlie tilts his head as he glances back at Nick curiously. “What do you mean? We’ve slept under this sky for… God, I don’t know how many days now. We’ve seen them plenty of times. What makes tonight different?”

“Yeah, well, this is the first time we’re seeing the sky clearly though,” Nick murmurs, feeling his gaze soften as he watches the younger boy. “No dark cave ceilings or tree branches to cover it this time.”

Charlie hums in agreement as he holds his legs closer to him. “That’s true. Still cold as fuck though,” he utters. Nick chuckles before scooting closer and wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. 

The sound of the Panem anthem plays just as Nick’s temple rests against Charlie’s curls. They watch in silence as the words appear in the sky, followed by Harry’s photo. A grimace settles on Nick’s face and he wants to look away, but he forces himself to continue watching until the screen fades to black and the moon returns. A newfound sense of sadness settles along them as they both process the truth they didn’t want to face.

It really is just the two of them now.

Nick hears Charlie sniffle and he pulls him into a bear hug, his ribs screaming in protest. However, he doesn’t pay it any mind as he presses a tender kiss along Charlie’s hairline. He feels the other’s slender fingers ball the back of his shirt into a fist as Charlie’s nose makes its way to the crook of Nick’s neck. He can feel his skin dampen as Charlie’s tears fall. 

“What are we gonna do, Nick?” Charlie sniffles. “We’re the only ones left.”

“I’m…” Nick’s voice halts in his throat, the words ‘not going home’ wanting to fall from his lips, but he stops himself. He feels a tear escape from his good eye as he cups the back of Charlie’s head. Nick strokes his curls gently, looking up at the stars. “I’m not sure,” Nick finally sighs. “But I do know that whatever happens next, it can happen tomorrow.”

“What about the Capitol? Now that it’s the two of us–” Charlie begins, the panic evident in his voice. Nick quiets him with a soft kiss, his index finger hooking under Charlie’s chin. His heart skips several beats as he basks in the warmth of Charlie’s lips, enjoying the way their mouths slot together as if Nick was made just for him. 

“The Capitol can wait one more night,” Nick murmurs, feeling Charlie’s breath fanning along his lower lip. 

“Nick, they’re not known for being patient,” Charlie’s voice is just a whisper, his fingers brushing against Nick’s knuckles.

“To hell with them,” Nick replies in an equally quiet tone. “I’m not running on their time anymore.”

Charlie doesn’t respond, instead leaning forward and kissing him again, his lips warm against Nick’s own. As their mouths move leisurely against one another’s, Charlie’s fingertips ghost against Nick’s jaw, brushing along his pulsepoint as the younger boy gently cups the uninjured side of his face. Nick can feel the unspoken emotions that Charlie’s feeling behind the kiss and he wants to deepen it, to savour everything Charlie, but he forces himself to remember that while they may be alone inside the arena, there are millions of eyes and ears watching. Nick pulls back after a second longer and notices the look of worry that crosses Charlie’s face immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” Charlie asks and Nick shakes his head.

“No, I just… We can’t ,” he sighs in frustration, though he’s unsure of who it’s aimed at: himself or Panem. “They’re–”

“Watching,” Charlie finishes in understanding. 

Nick mouths a hushed ‘yeah’ in response and they look back up at the sky, neither one knowing what to say, nor how to act. Nick isn’t sure how long they end up sitting there, the only noise filling the air between them being the gentle breeze that rustles through the trees. Charlie’s pinky taps Nick’s gently before he moves to link them together. Nick’s lips twitch fondly as he squeezes the other’s finger affectionately.

For the first time since entering the arena, Nick’s mind is quiet. He isn’t sure if it’s because of everything his body has endured or if it’s because he’s come to terms with this being his final night alive, but a feeling of peace blooms behind his chest and settles in his bones. He never thought he’d be okay with dying, especially in the Games of all places, but as he glances at Charlie, it’s almost a comforting idea.

Letting myself die so that Charlie can live? Well… I suppose there are worse ways to go, aren’t there?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Charlie asks, bringing Nick back to the present. 

“If it was a guarantee that you’d be going home tomorrow… What would you do once you got back to Twelve?” Nick tilts his head inquisitively. 

Charlie’s brows furrow with confusion as he presses his lips in a firm line. “I don’t know,” he replies after a moment, casting his gaze towards the grass. “I’d hug Olly… Interrogate the ever-living shit out of Tori about anything Michael related,” he adds quickly. “Tell Tao about Elle because I think they’d get on really well, though it’ll never happen of course. Oh, and take a shower – no, a bath. A nice, long, hot bath.” 

Nick hums as he nods. “That sounds like the perfect lineup.” 

“What about you?” Charlie prompts, nudging Nick’s arm. “If you go home tomorrow, what would you do?” 

Nick tries to picture it in his head but nothing comes, his mind drawing a complete blank. He shrugs idly, his lips twisting as he fights a frown. “I don’t know, if I’m being honest. I guess I’d do the same as you. Hug my mum, flip David off, drink wine with Sahar and do a proper shadow puppet show for Sami... And I definitely agree on taking a bath. I think I’ll need to soak in the tub for at least three days straight to get rid of the dirt and blood.”

“You’d be a prune by the time you finished,” Charlie muses, poking Nick’s cheek. Nick chuckles, though it lacks amusement, instead feeling forced. The idea of him going home instead of Charlie has shattered any newfound peace he had.

“If I don’t look like an old man by the time I’m done, I didn’t take a long enough bath.” Nick replies lightly, trying to maintain a carefree facade. Charlie seems to notice but he doesn’t press any further and Nick is genuinely thankful for it.

“I think you’ll make a handsome old man, for what it’s worth,” Charlie grins slyly. Nick rolls his eyes, though a smile graces his lips. “You’re going to be the silver fox that all the women of Panem will be swooning over.”

“The only person I’d want swooning over me is you. I couldn’t give two shits about anyone else,” Nick says before he can stop himself. Charlie’s eyes widen as his lips part, his face turning a dark shade of red that contrasts against the blue hues of the moonlight. Nick expects embarrassment to wash over him from how boldly he’d just flirted, but the only emotion he feels is pride because it’s him making Charlie this flustered. 

I might as well get as many compliments in as I can. I have a lifetime to make up for.

“Oh my god, shut up ,” Charlie chuckles, gently shoving Nick’s shoulder. Nick leans closer as he grins slyly.

“Why would I do that?” Nick hums curiously, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Especially when flirting with you makes your dimples appear,” he adds, poking one of Charlie’s dimples to prove his point. To his delight, the crevice deepens as Charlie’s smile widens. 

“You’re an idiot,” the younger boy replies with a shake of his head.

“I’m your idiot, though,” Nick croons, reaching up to twirl one of Charlie’s curls around his finger. Charlie leans into the touch, a warm grin on his face. “Char?” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah?” the younger boy asks, his eyelids drooping but his voice full of earnestness. 

“No matter what happens tomorrow… You’ll stay with me until the end, right?” Nick asks, his voice breaking halfway through the question. Charlie’s features soften and he nods, pressing a gentle kiss to Nick’s palm.

“Of course,” Charlie promises. “Where you go, I’ll go.”

The atmosphere around them has shifted, no longer full of despair and defeat but instead, a bittersweet happiness. They’re no longer two tributes from opposing districts, nor are they even allies. For now, they’re just two teenagers who have endured and survived far more than any kid should.

For now, they’re just Nick and Charlie. 

***

“So that’s it, then?” 

Nick’s eyes flicker open briefly before he squints from the brightness of the sun hanging in the sky. His brows pinch together in confusion as he sits up, his fingers planted in the earth below him. He looks around him, noticing that not only is he in the field of District 2, but he can see properly with both eyes again. He uses this to his advantage and tries to find the source of the voice, but he’s by himself.

“What?” Nick asks warily, slowly coming to a stand as he tries to process that he’s back home. However, it feels… different than before. There’s no sound of gunfire, nor can he see a Training Centre anywhere in sight. The sun’s too bright, the grass too green. His surroundings begin to ripple with every step he takes, morphing into the empty streets of the town centre back home. He treads lightly, trying to process what’s going on. 

“You’re just giving up?” the voice asks, its tone full of disbelief and disappointment. “That’s not the Nicholas Nelson I know.”

Nick’s lips twist with anger and his hands tighten into fists at his sides. He looks over his shoulder, noticing a wisp of brown hair disappear behind a cobblestone corner and Nick doesn’t waste a second, running after it. When he turns around the corner, he’s no longer in District 2 – he’s now on the train, heading for the Capitol. He takes a step forward into the train carriage, trees blurring past them in bright shades of green. He idly hears the door shut behind him, the mechanical whirring noise echoing, as if it’s off in the distance. 

“ You don’t know what I’ve been through,” Nick says, trying to sound firm, but instead his voice is a shaky vibrato. “I’m not going to last much longer, and Charlie deserves to go home–”

“Excuse after excuse, that’s all I’m hearing,” the disembodied voice replies. He feels a presence appear behind his shoulder, followed by a gentle touch. He glances to his left to study the hand touching him, but it's nowhere to be seen. When he looks back, his eyes land on the last person he expected to see.

Himself.

Only, it’s him before he entered the arena. His hair is freshly washed and neatly parted to the side and he’s wearing his reaping uniform with both of his eyes still fully intact. 

“What the…?” Nick whispers with disbelief, his lips parting with realisation. “I’m dreaming.”

“No shit,” the other Nick – Nicholas, Nick decides to call him – replies, rolling his eyes as he steps forward. He looks himself up and down, unable to recognise the man staring back at him.“About time we had a proper chat, don’t you think?” Nicholas continues with a smirk. He sits down on a plush Capitol sofa, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “So that’s it then?” he asks, reiterating his question. “You’re just going to wake up and then…” he drags a finger across his throat and lets his tongue hang out, playing dead.

“You think I want to die?” Nick asks with frustration, crossing his arms over his chest. Nicholas frowns with a shrug.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says coolly. “You seem a lot more eager for it nowadays… Don’t get me wrong, Charlie’s great. I like him a lot too, probably more than either of us should, but do you really think your death is going to solve anything?”

“Charlie doesn’t deserve to die. We can’t both win, it’s not allowed.”

“I’m not saying he does,” Nicholas looks out the window, his brow furrowing as he rolls his tongue in his mouth, deep in thought. “But what happens next, then? Charlie goes home just for his brother to be picked in the Games next year? What about Sahar and Sami?” his eyes meet Nick’s, his gaze sharp and intense. 

“I…” Nick tries to respond but his throat closes with emotion as he looks at the carpeted floor. When he looks back up at the other, they’re no longer in the train car. They’re sitting in the sitting space of the tribute living quarters. “I didn’t–”

“Think that far ahead?” Nicholas asks dryly. He plants both feet on the ground, folding his hands together. “You were there to save Sami, but what about when Sami is old enough to volunteer? What if Sami and Olly end up having to fight each other in the next Games? All Sahar and Charlie will be able to do is watch.”

Nick’s legs feel like jelly and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been staring at himself for too long or if it’s just having too many realisations at once. Each one is like a punch to his gut and he finds himself stumbling backwards, trying to remain steady. Nicholas stands up and with a blink of an eye, he’s right in front of Nick, their chests almost touching. The other man’s nose scrunches with disgust as his calculating gaze searches Nick’s. 

“You’re taking the coward’s route,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw muscles flexing with disapproval. “You’re choosing death over fighting for what’s important. This isn’t just about you or Charlie anymore, Nick. This is about the country as a whole, but you’re too blinded by your feelings to see that.” 

He pokes Nick’s shoulder, causing Nick to fall back as if he weighed nothing, his body flipping chaotically through the free fall. He lands on the ground with a thud, groaning with pain as he rolls over. Getting on his hands and knees, he notices the ground is covered with crimson puddles of blood. Bile rises in his throat but he forces it down, standing up straight and realising he’s now in the centre of the arena, where the Cornucopia should be. He spins in a circle, noticing that each tribute podium has someone standing there. All of the tributes he killed are on one side of the podiums, the other half full of his family and friends from back home. 

Nicholas appears in front of him, tilting his head as he begins to point at each person, beginning with Harry and making his way down the list. “If you give up, they’ve all died for nothing ,” he says, gesturing to each tribute. As his hand moves, Nick’s eyes land on Nathan and Tara, who are staring back emotionlessly at him. “They believed in you for nothing,” the man continues before aiming his hand at Nick’s family. Tears begin to well in Nick’s eyes as Sarah offers him a sad smile. “And the people who made you who you are? They will have watched you kill in vain.”

“What is your point?” Nick asks harshly, the tears spilling over as he glares at Nicholas. “You think I don’t know this? What the fuck do you want me to do about it? The only person I can protect right now is Charlie and the only way to do that is to let him be the one to go home!”

Nicholas grabs him harshly by the shoulders. “Quit using Charlie as an excuse!” he yells before pushing Nick back. Nick doesn’t fall this time though, instead digging his boots into the ground. “You can’t lie to me, Nick. I know this isn’t about Charlie, at least not fully.”

“Oh, really?” Nick challenges, tilting his head as anger swirls in his chest. “Enlighten me, then. What is this about?”

“You’re scared,” Nicholas retorts, “Because you don’t know what’s going to happen next if you live. If you both live.”

“Bullshit,” he spits, earning him a slap in the face. Nick blinks rapidly, his vision beginning to blur as the man gets closer. 

“Is it?” the other queries, placing his hands on his hips. “Because we both know that if you and Charlie make it out alive – which is a real possibility, by the way – there will be a rebellion afoot. You’ve trained all your life for the Games, but a rebellion?” Nicholas whistles. “No one’s trained you for that, have they?”

Nick swallows, his jaw clenching as his gaze falls towards the ground, unsure of how to respond because fuck, he’s right. 

“Of course, I’m right,” Nicholas continues before tapping his temple, reminding Nick that they’re the same person. “The people of Panem are tired, Nick. They’re so tired that they’re ready to wake up.” As he says ‘wake up’, his voice sounds like it’s overlapping with someone else’s in a distorted manner.

“What?” Nick asks, squinting with uncertainty.

“It’s time you get your head back in the game and wake up too,” Nicholas says. “Wake up, Nick, or they’ll all be dead the moment you quit breathing. And we both know that you’re not the kind of person to bring others down with you.”

As Nicholas speaks, a pressure forms around either of Nick’s biceps and his body begins to shake violently against his will, as if he’s being shaken like a rag doll. He can’t tell if it’s part of the dream or if it’s something else. Someone else.

“Charlie,” Nick whispers, his voice cracking mid-sentence. 

Nicholas only nods. 

“You need to wake up now, and you need to fight ,” he urges. “If not yourself, for them,” he adds, waving to the people around them. Nick looks at each podium in turn. One by one, each person disappears the moment their eyes meet. That is until he looks behind him, where Nicholas is already standing there, looking at the final person on the podium – the one Nick hadn’t noticed until now. A pair of intense blue eyes stare back at him, wild raven curls blowing through the gentle breeze.

“For him ,” Nicholas says softly as he stares at Charlie, a twinkle in his eyes as he studies Charlie’s features. Nick notices the emotion behind Nicholas’s stare, feeling the same one in his chest as he looks at Charlie too. “The boy with the bow.”

All of the sounds in Nick’s head go silent, the night before the Games rushing back to him. As the memory plays, it’s as if someone muted it, because Nick can’t hear anything. 

But he feels everything.

The sadness when he watched Charlie’s reaping tape, the hesitation when their eyes met in the Training Centre, the panic when he saw Charlie appear in the garden on the rooftop, the devotion that found a home in between his ribs when they first kissed… It all comes crashing into him, wave after wave of overwhelming emotions pulling him apart at the seams. And yet, the same waves that are tearing him apart are somehow glueing him back together, piece by piece.

“Wake up!” Nicholas shouts abruptly, causing Nick to startle. “Wake up! Wake up. Wake…”

***

“Nick!” Charlie panics, shaking him harshly. “Nick, please, you need to wake up!”

Nick’s eye flutters open – his other eye still sealed shut – and inhales sharply, blinking a few times as his vision strains to focus. Charlie’s staring down at him, a hint of relief in his eyes, though concern is etched into his features. 

“Char?” he asks in a raspy voice, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Come look,” Charlie mutters, a note of defeat in his tone. 

Nick’s body aches in protest as Charlie helps him up, leading them towards the edge of the Cornucopia’s floor. He raises a hand towards the sky above the red forest, where two vultures are flying in a circle. Nick’s jaw goes slack as fear courses through him when he sees four more join within seconds, the circle expanding with each additional muttation. 

“Fuck,” Nick huffs, “Well, looks like they didn’t care for my comments last night.”

“It gets worse,” Charlie responds, nodding towards the cherry blossom trees that are right next to it. “Look familiar?” 

A chill runs down Nick’s spine as he watches a thick fog drape itself over the treetops, creeping along the ground in wispy tendrils and crawling towards the field with intent – as if it’s alive. The sight makes him stumble backwards, every instinct in his body urging him to get as far away from the fog – and from Charlie – as possible. Overhead, storm clouds churn above the birch trees, darkening the yellow hue of their leaves as the section is covered in an eerie half-light. He looks at Charlie just as lightning flashes overhead, and they both nearly jump out of their skin from surprise. Charlie takes a step back while Nick’s arms cover his head, his biceps burning in protest at the movement. He glances back at the other as a plan slowly begins to form in his mind.

One that Charlie isn’t going to like.

“What do we do?” Charlie asks, wringing his hands nervously. “I don’t have anymore arrows and our weapon selection is minimal at best–”

“Charlie, listen to me,” Nick says in a calm voice, although he’s feeling anything but. He reaches out, offering his hand palm up. The younger boy takes it instantly, their fingers intertwining, and he pulls Charlie close. He uses his free hand to cup Charlie’s jaw, his thumb stroking Charlie’s cheekbone. “We need to run, okay?”

“What direction do we go in? It looks like there’s an event going on in each section of the forest,” he replies, the panic in his eyes evident. “Nowhere is safe and you’re not in any condition to run.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Nick reassures him before looking back at the chaos awaiting them. He notices the vultures have doubled now, the muttations almost forming a cloud of their own as they begin to approach the centre. “I need you to go towards the birch trees. That’s going to be your safest option.”

“What about you? Where are you going to go?” Charlie asks at first, but he falls quiet as his eyes stare directly into Nick’s. Realisation dawns on his features, morphing into horror before settling into sadness. The corners of his eyes begin to water, his mouth turning into a frown and he shakes his head. “No,” he states firmly before Nick can say anything. “No, no, no! I am not leaving you behind–”

“Char,” Nick’s voice cracks as he lets his forehead rest against Charlie’s. “Meeting you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. In the past eighteen years I’ve spent on this planet, I’ve never felt more alive than I have with you.”

“Stop it!” Charlie interjects weakly, the tears beginning to fall down his face. He grabs Nick’s wrists tightly, as if grounding himself. “I’m not leaving you behind to die! We’ll find another way.”

“Charlie, if you stay, neither of us will win. If you go, I can cause a distraction and draw the birds towards me. All you have to do is climb a tree and wait it out, okay?” Nick urges, a tear escaping him. “You need to win this for Olly and Tori. You need to go home to them.”

“Nick,” Charlie is practically begging now. “Nick, we can–”

“We don’t have time,” Nick smiles sadly. “In my mind, I’ve already won the Games. You getting to go home will be my victory.” The shrill of the vultures is almost deafening now as they near. Nick lets his hand cup the back of Charlie’s head as he pulls him in for a kiss. He feels Charlie’s tears mingle with his own as the younger boy kisses him back with fervor, as if trying to say every unspoken feeling with one touch. When they pull away, Nick pulls him into a hug. “Please forgive me,” he whispers, knowing Charlie can’t hear it over the ominous noises. 

When they break apart, Nick limps back to where they had rested, picking up his knife and axe. He comes back and rests the axe over his shoulder. “Once I get them distracted and you see an opening, you take it. Run as fast as you can. I’ll buy you time.”

Charlie sniffles as he nods, though Nick can see the disagreement in his eyes. As Nick focuses on the birds that are now just above the treeline, he hears Charlie clear his throat. “Thank you,” he says, causing Nick to look at him. There’s something about the way he says it that sounds so… final. 

Nick smiles sadly and even though he should be running by now, he decides to be selfish one last time. He grabs Charlie’s hand and kisses his forehead. “You’re welcome, my love,” he whispers the pet name so quietly that he doesn’t know if Charlie hears it or not, but it fell from his tongue so naturally that he couldn’t hold it back any longer. He’s about to die anyway, he might as well have one less regret follow him to his grave. And that way, Charlie – hopefully – gets to hear him say it at least once. 

“It’s not fair,” Charlie whimpers through shaky breaths, no doubt trying to stifle his tears, and Nick rubs soothing circles along his biceps. 

“I know,” Nick says as a tear falls from his eye. “Nothing about these Games is fair.”

The birds are closing in now and Nick is officially out of time. He inhales deeply, a new sense of determination and acceptance in his chest, before running out to the left side of the Cornucopia. His body screams in agony, his already-tired muscles creaking and shifting with unease, but he pushes through the pain as he comes to a halt in the grass. He whistles loudly before yelling incoherently, waving his axe out of desperation to get the attention of the vultures. 

“Hey, you big bloody chickens! Have at me!” he screams. The muttations all seem to collectively look at him, as if sharing a hive mind, and they begin to swirl in formation as they zoom towards him. Nick feels his heart stutter before the adrenaline in his body kicks into overdrive and he turns on his heel to run. “Now Charlie!” he shouts as he picks up the pace. 

Nick turns towards the pine trees, unsure of what event he’s about to face in there, when a loud and thunderous screeching can be heard. However, it doesn’t sound animalistic – it sounds metallic. Even though he knows he shouldn’t look back, Nick can’t help himself. He glances over his shoulder as he runs and watches with horror as the sky above them begins to glitch. The birds’ movements begin to stutter, their bodies dropping from the air one by one. The vulture leading the group of muttations has a steady lead though, as if the effects haven’t hit it yet, and it outstretches its talons, poised to strike. Nick raises his weapon, coming to a halt and getting ready to knock the creature down from the sky.

That’s when the entire arena is plunged into darkness.

<>𓆩➵𓆪<>

“Now, Charlie!” 

Everything in Charlie’s heart, gut and soul instantly started screaming at him, telling him to run towards Nick to save him. He can’t imagine a life without Nick now, which is an insane thought to have, but due to the pressing circumstances of life and death, he’s given up caring about what he should think compared to what he actually feels. Despite this, his legs move of their own accord in the opposite direction of Nick and the vultures.

Tears immediately fall from his eyes and blur his vision. His chest hurts from holding back sobs mixed in with the grief he already feels. It’s an odd sensation. He’s only ever grieved people after their death. Never before, and never for a life he’s not yet lived.

His legs propel him forward and as the birch trees are only a few strides away, he slows down. He turns around, preparing himself for whatever scene he might find Nick in. His eyes land on Nick aimlessly swinging his axe at the vultures as they try to attack. Charlie lets out a sob, bringing his hands to his mouth as he watches one of the birds break off and fly into Nick’s blind spot.

But then, something catches his attention in the corner of his eye. Charlie catches the end of a ripple in the centre of the sky, quickly followed by illuminated hexagons appearing one by one. His eyes glance around the entire sky – or maybe it’s actually a ceiling, or roof – and hexagons quickly flicker in and out of focus. The blue sky seems to vary in colour and intensity in multiple sections, with clouds suddenly appearing and disappearing. Charlie takes a step forward, taking in as many details as he can. 

Something’s not right. This isn’t normal.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him shifts and he stumbles to the left. His eyes snap down to see tree roots and vines breaking through the surface. A loud creaking noise sounds from his right, and he looks up just in time to see a tree in another section slowly tilt before crashing down. The branches of the tree hit the forcefield, sending another wave of energy up into the malfunctioning sky, the scenery around them rippling drunkenly.

That hit seems to be the breaking point. Charlie watches in horror as sparks fly from the top of the dome, causing the brightness of the arena to dim for a few seconds. The sparks fall onto the treetops, and flames immediately burst with life. 

This time Charlie doesn’t hesitate to run; he retraces his steps back towards the Cornucopia, his eyes trying to find Nick again. It takes him a few seconds before he sees the mass of birds hovering in the air, the fire casting an orange glow across their circling bodies. Nick is below them, only a few feet away from the pine trees.

“Nick, the arena!” he bellows, but it’s deafened by the screeching of the arena’s roof being torn to shreds as metal grates against metal.

Nick doesn’t hear him given he's trying desperately to fend off the vultures above. He realises that they’re slowing down, as if the intrusion from above is affecting them too; the two vultures lingering towards the back of the pack fall to the ground like a domino effect. However, the ones that are closer to Nick are still moving too fast. His breath catches in his throat as Nick comes to a stop and raises his weapon, a mixture of fear and determination on his face. The vulture reaches out with its talons, screeching loudly at Nick as it aims to strike.

And then the world goes dark. 

Charlie comes to a halt instantly, almost tripping over himself. The cacophony of sound suddenly disappears and all he can hear is his own heavy breathing. It’s far too quiet for Charlie’s liking but his ability to speak is nowhere to be found. He doesn’t know which outcome would be worse: hearing a response or hearing nothing at all.

He waits another few seconds. He’s just about to speak when a voice beats him to it, the sound wrapping around him like a blanket from home. “Char?!” Nick calls out, his voice faint in the distance, but Charlie still hears it and it’s like an adrenaline shot to his system.

He’s alive! His Nick is alive!

“Nick!” Charlie responds, his shoulders sagging with relief. 

“What happened?” Nick yells, his own relief at the sound of Charlie’s voice evident. “Where are you? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m okay! I think the arena glitched!” Charlie says as he tentatively takes a few steps forward, trying to focus his ears. “Stay where you are, but keep talking to me so I can find you!” 

“How can an arena glitch?” Nick exclaims, his voice slightly louder than before. “What are we meant to do? Is this some new arena event?”

Before Charlie can think of a possible reason or solution to any of his questions, a loud metallic clang rings out from above, quickly followed by the brightest light Charlie has seen in weeks shining down on them. Natural light. Its rays illuminate everything within a ten foot radius around Charlie, and he has to bring his hand up to protect them, squinting as he tries to see between his fingers. 

“Charlie!” Nick shouts, suddenly incredibly close. Charlie whips his head round just in time to brace himself as Nick engulfs him in his arms, lifting Charlie off the ground in a tight hug. 

“Oh my god, we’re both alive,” Nick rasps into his neck.

Despite being incredibly stunned, Charlie manages to wrap his own arms around Nick’s torso, gripping onto him tightly, his fingers digging into Nick’s shoulders. He melts into the embrace, his heart finally managing to steadily beat again. He moves his hands to Nick’s face, cupping his cheeks tenderly as he looks for any kind of new wound.

“What happened with the vulture? I-I saw it coming for you–” Charlie asks through a sniffle. 

“I don’t know, the moment the arena went dark, it disappeared. I thought I’d died, honestly,” Nick says, but their conversation is cut short as a shadow slowly begins to fall over them. That’s when Charlie’s ears register the sound of an aircraft gradually getting louder. Nick and Charlie look up to see a Capitol hovercraft slowly land some metres away from them. Nick instinctively reaches into his pocket for his knife as a ramp slowly pulls away and rests on the ground, revealing two people who are already running out of the aircraft. Because of the slight distance, it’s hard to determine who it is. Nick tries to step in front of Charlie, but because their bodies are still somewhat intertwined, they end up taking a few steps forward together.

As the strangers run towards them, their features become clearer with each step. One has blonde hair wildly fanning out with the wind while the other has dark hair tightly tied back in a secured bun. 

“Is that…” Charlie starts, but he’s in so much disbelief that he can’t bring himself to say it. His unfinished question is answered as he recognises his mentor, Darcy. Charlie recognises the woman with her from the night of the interviews.

What was her name again?

“Tara,” Nick sighs with relief, answering Charlie’s unspoken question.\

“You just gonna stand around, then?” Darcy shouts over the hum of the aircraft, a devilish grin appearing on her face. “Chop, chop lads!”

“Wha–” Charlie splutters. 

“Come on,” Tara adds, her tone full of urgency. “We need to get you two out of here! Now! ”

Without another word, Darcy and Tara turn back and take off towards the hovercraft. Charlie feels his arm being pulled in that direction as Nick takes a step forward. Charlie blinks a few times and his eyes catch Nick’s. “Charlie,” Nick says earnestly, eyes brimming with tears. “We have to go.” 

“I don’t understand,” Charlie whispers, a lump forming in his throat. 

Surely, this isn’t real… is it?  

“I don’t either, but anywhere is better than here,” Nick’s face softens, his hand moving down to intertwine their fingers. “Until the end?”

“Where you go, I’ll go,” Charlie nods and even though it’s all so fucking surreal, when Nick gently tugs on his hand again, Charlie follows this time.

Darcy waits for them at the ramp, immediately punching her fist against a red button on the wall as they run into the main body of the aircraft. Not even a second later, Charlie feels the surge of power beneath his feet as the aircraft takes off into the air. He’s glancing around, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, when he feels a hand touch his shoulder. Charlie’s head instantly jerks to the left to see who’s touching him when his eyes meet Darcy’s.

Wordlessly, she guides him forward towards the row of seats opposite Tara. Nick quickly follows behind and they simultaneously fall into their seats. 

“W-What just happened?” Charlie stutters through a heavy breath. 

Tara and Darcy look at each other and nod slightly before turning back to face them. 

“A lot has happened since you entered the arena,” Tara begins, her lips forming a tight line. This is the first time he notices the color of her eyes: a bright gold. However, something about them is… off. He blinks a few times in confusion that turns into astonishment as he realises they’re prosthetic. 

“Well, boys,” she says dryly, a sardonic smile spreading across her lips, “Welcome to the 75th Hunger Games.”

<>𓆩⚔𓆪<>

Nick’s stomach is churning with queasiness as he tries to focus on Charlie, whose voice sounds muffled as he talks to Darcy, fishing for more information and becoming visibly more frustrated with every question Darcy avoids. She responds in an equally muffled voice, sounding further away as she animatedly waves her arms. Nick quickly gives up, leaning his head back as he tries to ignore the nausea slowly making its way up his chest. He’s been dealing with a faint ringing in his ears since the plane left the ground and his head is pounding with wave after wave of exhaustion. He’s managed to fight it so far, but sleep is threatening to take over and he has to blink a couple of times to stave it off, fidgeting with the cloth of his trousers to keep himself awake. 

“Cut the shit, Darcy!” Charlie snaps, his sharp tone cutting through the air like a verbal dagger, glaring at the woman sitting across from him. Whatever dreariness that was creeping over Nick is long gone now as he sits up a little straighter. He forces his heavy head to stay upright as Charlie continues to speak. “You have to tell us what’s going on! No more leaving us in the dark, you at least owe us that– “

“Hey, I don’t owe you shit,” Darcy interjects firmly. “Neither of us owe you boys anything, you entitled little–”

“Darce,” Tara interrupts, the warning in her tone blatantly obvious. Nick’s eyes snap towards Tara as she leans forward in her seat, steadily staring at the other mentor. Darcy’s fists are balled tightly and even though Nick’s known her for all of twenty minutes, he can already tell she’s not one to be fucked with. And yet, he notices a physical shift in Darcy’s posture under the weight of Tara’s gaze, as if putting herself in check.

“If you want to start tallying up favours,” Darcy continues in a neutral voice as she tries to calm herself down, “how about we go over what I had to do to get those gifts for you? You know, the really soft and proper fitting shirts? I had to grovel to sponsors that have denied me year after year…” She utters with disdain, rubbing her index finger and thumb together. “Tara had to bribe and beg the same sponsors that bet against her during her Games in order to get you both that medical gel early on. Let’s add that to the tally too.” 

“Are you kidding?” Charlie scoffs, his anger still seeming to outweigh his voice of reason, “That’s your fucking job, isn’t it? As my mentor, as our–“ he motions to Tara and Nick as well, “mentors, you’re supposed to keep us alive! That’s how you win–“

“Char,” Nick interrupts softly, reaching out and squeezing his hand gently. Charlie’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are glassy with tears of frustration as they land on Nick. However, his brows are pinched together with worry and his lower lip trembles with… fear?

He’s worried about his home, his family. Fuck, what about mine? What happened while we were away?

“Why aren’t you angry?” Charlie asks, his voice cracking. “You lost an eye for fuck’s sake!”

“I am angry,” Nick says calmly, squeezing Charlie’s hand once more. “I’m feeling a lot of different emotions, just like you, but right now we need to take a breather. Not even an hour ago I thought that I was gonna die. I know this isn’t how we pictured coming home, but we made it out.” He smiles widely, a tear slipping down his cheek. “75th Hunger Games or whatever Darcy said be damned, we survived! The anger you’re feeling right now isn’t directed at either of them, it’s directed at the Capitol. Tara and Darcy aren’t our mentors anymore, Char, they’re our allies.”

Nick looks back at Darcy, whose eyebrows are raised in shock, as if she wasn’t expecting him to chime in and defend her. He focuses on Charlie again, leaning over and pulling the younger boy into a hug, his torso burning from the awkward way it’s twisting, but he doesn’t care. 

“Listen, kid, I’m sorry,” Darcy says as she switches seats, sitting next to Charlie. Nick notices the hesitation in her movements, as if unsure how to console another human being. “I’m sorry for being a dick, for all you’ve had to go through…” Her voice trails off as her face softens. “I’m sorry about Juniper.”

“Please,” Charlie whispers with exhaustion, pulling away from Nick’s embrace to lean his head against the wall of the hovercraft, “Just… Don’t talk about her. Not yet, alright? I just want to know what’s happening next. No more surprises, no more secrets. I’ve had enough for a lifetime.” He glances over at Darcy and presses his lips together in a thin line. “I’m sorry, too. Nick’s right, I'm not angry with you or Tara. I think I’m just in shock right now.”

“There’s a couple of sleeping chambers towards the front of the hovercraft,” Tara offers. “We’ve still got a way to go until we get to our destination.”

Destination?

“No, we… We need to know what happened. How the hell did you manage to save us?” Charlie asks, his brow furrowing. “Why aren’t we currently being shot at by Capitol jets? How are you just able to swoop in and pick us up so easily?”

Nick notices Tara’s mouth quirk slightly with amusement. “Well, the Capitol is apparently only as efficient as its power supply, and currently there’s none to be found.” 

“Wait, you said destination earlier,” Nick blurts, his brain finally catching up with his mouth. “Are we not going back to our districts?”

 Tara and Darcy share a secretive look. A look that fills Nick’s stomach with lead.

“Oh, go on then,” Darcy says to Tara before looking back at Charlie. “No more secrets, remember?” If Nick’s not mistaken, he thinks he sees a flash of remorse in her eyes. 

Tara’s face seems to light up with approval at that, though it doesn’t outweigh the grimness that her body language is exuding. “No. We’re not returning back to our districts. District 2 is on full lockdown and has been for the last four days. No one, citizen or military, has been able to go in or out.”

Anxiety begins to trickle down Nick’s spine with an icy chill as he looks at Darcy, whose eyes are becoming glassy, though her face is stoic. Nick feels Charlie’s hand grab his and he’s thankful for the small anchor keeping him tied to reality. 

“There’s been riots all across the districts since the Games began,” Tara says softly. Nick glances up with confusion. 

Riots? Since fucking when?

“It started in the lower districts for the first few nights. But then you two,” Tara continues, glancing between both of them, “Then you two became allies… and then you became more. The day after your first kiss… There was a bombing in District 2. Dozens planted by rebels.” Tara’s lips purse together and she looks down while fidgeting with the ring on her finger. 

“My family…” Nick interrupts, his headache amplifying as tears well in his eyes. “Where was the blast zone located?”

“There were two different locations. One was the Town Square…” Tara shuffles in her seat, crossing one leg over the other before bobbing her knee anxiously as her voice trails off. A question falls from his lips before he can stop it.

“The other location?” he whispers, his heart feeling as if it’s about to crack his ribcage open with how hard it’s pounding. When Tara’s eyes meet his, the corners of them turn down as her brows pinch together with despair. 

“Victor’s Village.”

Her words cause Nick’s entire body to go numb, dozens of emotions running to the forefront of his mind. Each one topples over the other as they begin to pile up, fighting to break free from his mental walls already locking into place. He slowly retracts his hand from Charlie’s, letting his arm hang limp at his side.

Sahar and Sami… David and Mum… Just gone? Just like that? A soft voice asks in the back of his mind as his heart begins to ache. He wants to scream, to throw anything he can get his hands on, but he simply sits there as stiff as a statue. 

“How many confirmed casualties?” Nick asks in a hollow voice that doesn’t sound like his own as his cadet training mindset takes over. He tries to look at Tara but his vision is blurring with tears and his nausea has come back with a vengeance. “Any of them named?”

“There were roughly fifteen hundred injured and so far, three hundred fatalities have been reported, though none of them have been named yet.” Tara replies, her voice mirroring Nick’s. A silence settles on them as Nick and Charlie both absorb the information.

“What…” Charlie’s voice catches in his throat and he visibly has to swallow the words. There’s a hesitation in his face, as if he’s unsure of whether he wants to know the answer to his unspoken question. However, he pushes through, squeezing Nick’s hand while doing so. “What about Twelve?” 

Darcy doesn’t look at Charlie as she responds, “There is no District 12. Not anymore.”

“Oh my god…” Charlie gasps with horror, his face paling as he slumps back. “Olly and Tori! Tao …” his voice pitches higher and higher with each name he lists, his hands waving around frantically. He promptly jumps out of his seat and begins to pace. He runs a hand through his curls, pushing them out of his face. “Did anyone from Twelve survive?”

“We don’t know,” Tara replies hesitantly. “But, we were told that there were rescue hovercrafts sent out shortly after the Capitol’s airstrike. They found a small pack of survivors just in the forestry past the fence. There were around nine hundred people who got relocated to District 13.”

Nick, who had been focusing on a loose thread from his trousers, snaps his head up as Charlie simultaneously asks, “What?”

“District 13?” Nick tilts his head. “No, District 13 was obliterated long before the Games began–”

“District 13 is the reason we have the Games!” Charlie interrupts and Nick nods in agreement. “It’s a myth at this point.”

Tara glances at Darcy and they seem to have a telepathic conversation between the two of them. Darcy huffs, shaking her head and Tara’s response is a twist of her lips, her manicured finger tapping against her knuckle impatiently. Nick glances at Charlie, whose eyes are already staring back. They linger on each other for a moment, seeming to attempt a silent conversation of their own, before their attention is brought back to Darcy, who’s abruptly stood up and is currently walking towards the front of the plane. Tara nods her head in the other woman’s direction, silently signalling for them to follow along.

Nick lets Charlie go first before coming to a stand and immediately regretting it. His body shifts against his will and he stumbles leftwards, reaching out and propping himself up against the seat. He takes a couple of steadying breaths, his head throbbing so badly it causes his vision to pulsate. Tara and Darcy have already left the room but Charlie is instantly by his side, his hand on Nick’s chest to keep him upright. 

“Nick?” Charlie asks worriedly, his eyes darting across Nick’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Nick clears his throat before swallowing thickly, coming to a stand. “Just… Never done well in planes, I guess.”

Charlie narrows his eyes, as if not believing him. But he doesn’t pry, instead waiting for Nick to compose himself before they start walking again. There’s blurred glass doors that white open before they cross the threshold, every step causing Nick’s muscles to ache in protest. His mind may be made of steel right now, but his body is barely holding itself together. His wounded eye has been burning with tears since the news about District 2 and everything below his waist feels like jelly. Sitting down and staying strong is one thing, but moving his body past exertion while forcing himself to mentally shut down? 

He’s only human, after all.

After walking through yet another set of identical doors, they enter a small chamber that’s in front of the cockpit door. There’s a large table in the centre of the chamber with a virtual map of Panem on display. Nick’s eye traces the holographic ridges of the mountains before focusing on the red trail that’s travelling through the districts. He sees a bright yellow pinging dot past District 12’s logo, the number ‘13’ above it. 

Holy fuck… Is this… Is this actually real? 

Nick’s about to ask when the hovercraft jerks due to a rough patch of turbulence. Nick and Charlie both stumble and Nick tries to reach out behind him to steady himself. However, the wall is just too far out of reach and Nick stumbles back, promptly falling on his arse. Just as he goes to lean against the wall, the hovercraft bounces again and Nick’s head smacks into the foundation harshly. The blow catapults any remaining willpower to stay awake out of his body. He’s out within seconds, his world going dark as his body goes limp.

Chapter Text

When Nick wakes up his eyes refuse to open, as if they’ve been sewn shut with exhaustion. All he can do is listen intently to his surroundings while trying to adjust to the dull throb pounding against his skull. He hears a soft beep every so often, followed by a tightness on his bicep only a blood pressure cuff could create. He inhales subtly, the scent of everything sterile invading his senses. He wants to move, to sit up and find out exactly where he is, where Charlie is, but his arms and legs feel full of lead. All he can do is lay there, focusing on how his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm with the sound of his heartbeat reflected on the monitor beside him. Muted footsteps grow closer, followed by metal rings clattering against each other and a hefty swoosh of air brushing past him as the noise fades. He recognises the sound belonging to a medical curtain, the noise faintly reminding him of his days as a training cadet back in District 2. 

“Has he woken up yet?” a soft voice asks, the tone warm and oddly peaceful.

Tara.

“No, but Dr Singh said that his vitals look good. They’ve changed the eye patch out for a less invasive material and took him off oxygen almost an hour ago,” a quiet voice replies. Nick can hear the monitor spike as his heart does a somersault at the sound of Charlie. He urges himself to open his eyes then, clawing desperately at the cage of exhaustion he’s physically trapped in. However, his eyes are seemingly glued shut and all he can do is fucking lie there. His finger twitches ever so slightly, but that’s the only movement his body makes.

Wake up! Just fucking wake up, already!

“I’ve brought you some of…” Tara’s voice hesitates questioningly, “whatever this is. I think it might be coffee?”

Charlie chuckles sadly, followed by a soft slurping and then a dissatisfied noise. “Is that how coffee normally tastes?” Charlie asks slowly, obviously trying to hide the disdain in his tone but failing miserably. 

“God, no,” Tara chuckles and the laugh Charlie replies with causes Nick’s heart to skip another beat. It sounds so soft, akin to the warm summer breeze that would blow through the fields of District 2. It’s raspy but bright nonetheless, carrying a warmth that makes Nick feel like he’s basking in the sun. Even though the laugh is tired, it’s full of life.

“At least, not above ground,” Tara continues, “but this will help give you some energy while you wait for him to wake up. I’ll check back with you in a bit, alright?”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Tara.” Charlie says appreciatively. Tara’s footsteps are muted once more as she walks away, and Nick hears Charlie sigh as his finger taps against the side of his cup.
Charlie’s alive, and he’s safe. We’re safe.

The thought is like a warm blanket freshly dried from the sun and even though Nick knows they’re not safe indefinitely, he can breathe in the knowledge that they’re safe for now. 

Now if I can just open my eyes…
Nick tries to move some part of his body, starting with his fingers. His right hand is still feeling fuzzy – no doubt an effect from the pain medication that’s pumping through his veins – but he manages to move his left pinky and ring finger. However, as the room falls quiet again, Nick begins to find himself walking along the thin line of consciousness and oblivion, the lack of stimulation lulling him to sleep. Just as he’s about to fall into another pit of darkness, Charlie’s voice flows through the air and directly into Nick’s heart. It causes a rush of adrenaline to surge through him and the heart monitor subtly beeps twice.

“Nick? I have no idea if you can hear me or not but I’m just going to talk anyway,” Charlie murmurs nervously, before continuing with a tremble in his voice. His words are barely above a whisper, but they sound as clear as day.

“Please be okay. Please, just… just wake up, like you always do. I’ve seen you come back from so much, so you have to be okay. But it’s…” Charlie pauses to sniffle, and the sound breaks Nick’s heart into two. “It’s the not-knowing part that’s killing me because what if… what if you aren’t, you know?”

I’m here, Charlie! I’m trying to wake up, I promise! Nick cries out, but his voice only echoes in his head. He tries to move his left hand again and finds he’s able to make a half-fist, but his right arm is still tingling.
“These past couple of days have been agony. The fact that I’m here with you but not with you is a different kind of torture I didn’t think existed. I’ve stared at you for hours on end, begging the universe for some kind of sign that you’re waking up. I need you to be okay. I need you with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to get through this without you. We’ve gotten this far together, and never once did I think about what it would look like if we weren’t–” His voice falters as he interrupts himself with another loud sniff. 

There’s a moment of silence where the only sounds that can be heard are the heart monitor and Nick’s steady breaths. But then Nick hears what he assumes to be the sound of a hospital bed squeaking, and he realises Charlie’s not been sitting in a chair, he’s been set up in a bed next to Nick’s. 

We’re in an infirmary? Are we… in District 13?

The sound of a chair being haphazardly pulled along the floor interrupts Nick’s thoughts, followed by a soft thwump noise as Charlie sits down. A sudden warmth wraps around Nick’s fingers to his right as Charlie gently takes his hand. 

“I hope you wake up soon,” Charlie continues, his voice more composed now. “District Thirteen is… pretty insane. It’s a whole different world down here. There are so many people from every district, who all seem to have a part to play in keeping this place running. I’ve not really met anyone yet, but I’ve seen them around. It’s all so uniform and orderly but not in a bad way? Like, they actually make it work. Tara told me about some of it: what the schedules look like for their workers, when we’re supposed to go to the dining hall, food rations, curfew hours and all of those mundane things.” Charlie lets out a soft hum, his thumb stroking Nick’s knuckles. As he continues to speak, his voice wobbles with sadness. “Mundane things that we can experience together once you wake up.” 

Fuck, I want that. I want to be able to just hold you again, to feel your lips against mine, to sleep next to you without having to worry about imminent danger…
Nick attempts to make a fist again with his left hand and is finally successful. He tests wiggling his toes a couple of times and to his delight, it’s nowhere near the struggle it was just minutes ago.

Nick feels Charlie’s lips press softly against his knuckles. “Please, Nick,” he whispers, his warm breath ghosting across Nick’s skin. “Please wake up. I know you can do this. You have to come back to me. I need you to wake up because… I want to see your reaction when I–” 

Any attempt at movement comes to a screeching halt as his attention is solely focused on Charlie’s voice now. When you what? 

Charlie takes another deep breath and squeezes Nick’s hand once more before continuing in a quiet, almost scared, voice. “I want you to be awake when I tell you that I think I love you.” 

Oh. Oh my god.

Nick’s head suddenly feels light, like a dandelion seed floating through the breeze. His heart soars within his chest, every muscle in his body feeling rejuvenated with newfound energy as those three words bounce around in his head.

‘I love you.’

Nick can feel tears prick the corner of his eyes and he’s suddenly too scared to open them because he doesn’t know what to say back. It’s not that he doesn’t want to say it back, he absolutely does. But he’s only said those words three times in his life and each time it was to his mum. The first time was when they found out his father died, the second was when David had been picked for the Games, and the third was when he said goodbye to his mum at the reaping. It doesn’t mean he’s never felt love of course – he loves Sahar and Sami with every fibre of his being. He’s just never said it out loud to them. Instead, they said it in other ways: sneaking bottles of wine, late night puppet shows, volunteering for Sami at the reaping…

But for Nick actually being in love is something entirely different and foreign. Something new. It’s because, for the first time in his life, Nick feels seen.  Not for what he’s meant to be, or who he was born to be because of his district number, but for who he really is. For who he wants to be, if he was only given a chance. And Charlie sees all of that, and more.

But can I even know how to love when all I’ve ever been taught to do is to kill?

“Which is fucking crazy,” Charlie rushes out, interrupting Nick’s spiral. “We barely even know each other, really… But also, we’ve spent so much time together – experienced so much together – that my brain just… it hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how I feel about you. In Thirteen, I’ve been able to think properly for the first time in weeks, and all I can think about is you. You, Nick Nelson, are on my mind every minute of every single day, and every time I look at you I just feel so… so much.”
Nick realises that, at this moment, it doesn’t matter if all he’s known is being a soldier, trained to kill at the drop of a hat. Because while that might still be a part of him, Charlie’s helped him realise that he’s so much more than that now. He can be kind, he can be selfless, he can be brave. 

And he can love, too.

“So, call me crazy or pathetic, but I don’t think I can deny it at this point,” Charlie says quietly. “I am falling for you, hard and fast, and I’m pretty certain that my love for you will grow deeper and wider for as long as I live. If the Games have taught us anything, it’s that life is short and unexpected, so I don’t want to hide anything from anyone anymore. From you anymore. I won't do it. I love you, Nick, so please wake up so I can tell you properly and kiss you afterwards.” 

Nick feels something wet drop onto his hand followed by a soft sniffle, and he realises Charlie’s crying. With the new rush of emotions and adrenaline coursing through him, Nick attempts to open his eyes and he’s finally, finally successful. He squints from the brightness of the room, the sheen of the white ceramic tiled walls reflecting the dim light hanging above his hospital bed. He glances down at Charlie, whose head is resting against his hand. His lips part and he’s about to speak when the hospital curtain is pulled back and Nick’s eyes lock with Tara’s.

Tara’s eyes widen and she immediately rushes out. “Dr Singh! He’s awake!”

The soft bubble that was once surrounding him and Charlie is abruptly popped as Charlie’s head snaps up. Nick’s throat tightens at the sight because fuck Charlie looks amazing. His skin is clean, not a speck of dirt or dried blood to be found, and his curls are actually somewhat kempt. He’s wearing a grey cargo jumpsuit that makes his blue eyes stand out more so than usual. The rims of his eyes are puffy and there are dark circles underneath them but besides that – and the bright red blush blooming along the bridge of his nose – he’s fine.

He’s perfect.

“N-Nick? Nick!” Charlie gasps, a fresh wave of tears falling down his cheeks as he squeezes Nick’s hand tightly. Nick doesn’t even care that the other is squeezing the life out of him, all he can do is smile sleepily. He sees an older woman appear behind Charlie, followed by Tara. They’re both wearing similar uniforms to Charlie, but the older woman has a white jacket over hers. 

This must be Dr Singh, Nick thinks idly as he looks her up and down. To his surprise, she looks… normal. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Nelson,” the woman says with a genuine smile. “Let’s take a better look at you now you’re awake.”

Nick glances at Charlie, a slight panic rising in his chest because he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to tell Charlie he feels the same way. But now, with Tara and Dr Singh in the room, there’s a sudden lump in his throat that he just can’t swallow. Charlie gives him an encouraging nod, wiping the rest of his tears with his sleeve. 

“It’s okay,” Charlie says, softly. “It won’t take long and then we’ll talk. I’ve waited three days, I can wait a little while longer now that you’ve woken up.” 

Nick’s lips press together in a thin line of defeat and he attempts to direct his focus back on the doctor, giving a curt nod. His body tenses as she approaches, but he reminds himself that for the first time in however long, he’s safe. It doesn’t stop him from forming an iron-tight grip around Charlie’s fingers though as Dr Singh begins to check over him, their hands never leaving each other’s. 

Nick expects the poking and prodding to last for an hour, but not even fifteen minutes – and about a dozen questions later – she’s leaving the room without saying as much as a goodbye. Nick’s left with more questions than answers, but he can’t find it in himself to care because the moment she’s gone, he tugs gently on Charlie’s arm to pull him into the hospital bed. It’s cramped and the other can just barely fit, but Nick doesn’t mind at all. He pulls Charlie into his side and buries his nose in the crevice of Charlie’s neck, inhaling the subtle scent of cinnamon that lingers along Charlie’s skin and collar. Logically, he knows it’s probably from the type of soap they used to clean Charlie, but Nick lets himself believe for a moment that that’s just how Charlie smells. 

“I’m going to give you two a moment,” Tara says softly and Nick nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of her voice because he’s still not used to others being present. “I’ll go grab some water for you.”

Nick nods appreciatively and the moment she disappears, Charlie’s lips are pressing against Nick’s, taking him by surprise. However, he simply kisses back fervently, their noses pressing against each other as Charlie’s hand cups Nick’s jaw, the pad of his thumb gently stroking Nick’s cheek. The heart monitor is steadily increasing into an abnormal rhythm beside them, and he feels Charlie giggle against his lips between each kiss. 

***

Nick ended up staying in the infirmary for a few more days after initially waking up. Dr Singh advised it was so they could keep a better watch on his eye to see how it responded to the antibiotics they were giving him. However, the longer he was there, the more clear it became that his eye was past the point of saving. On the night he was supposed to be released from the infirmary, a week after they had arrived, the infection was so bad that it ended up causing him to have a minor seizure. Shortly after, he was rushed into emergency surgery, and that was the final night he spent with both eyes.

Now, as Nick studies his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, his eye traces the eyepatch that’s secured around his empty socket with an overwhelming feeling of defeat. He’s been doing his best to keep a positive outlook, both for himself and Charlie, but he’s still as clueless now as he was on the day of his arrival. Every time he’s asked about his family or Sahar and Sami, Tara and the medical staff simply avoid his questions. They always change the subject, asking him about his pain or some other bullshit in an attempt to distract him. It’s done nothing to ease any of Nick’s worries about who made it out of District 2 and who didn’t.

Charlie was medically cleared the day before Nick’s surgery, but he chose to stay with Nick anyway, refusing to leave his side. Nick has been nothing less than appreciative of it, but he can’t help himself from wondering if it’s partially because Charlie’s scared of what’s waiting for him on the other side of the infirmary doors too. Or rather, what’s not. 

To the best of Nick’s knowledge, Charlie’s just as in the dark as he is. They’ve been in almost total isolation for the past week and a half, no visitors being allowed outside of Tara and Darcy. While Charlie’s presence has been a soothing comfort that’s helped Nick maintain his sanity, the unknown of ‘what’s next’ has been eating at him from the inside out. A soft knock on the door next to him causes Nick to startle, and he breathes out harshly before opening the door. His eye meets Charlie’s, the shorter boy’s face full of concern. 

“Hi,” he says softly and Nick gives him a poor attempt at a smile, though he knows it falls flat.

“Hi,” he replies, stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind him.

“You alright? You were in there for a while, I started to get nervous,” Charlie asks, rubbing Nick’s arm soothingly. 

“Yeah,” Nick replies in a strained voice, staving off the tears that threaten to form. “Just, uh, got lost in thought, I suppose. Trying not to go stir crazy. It feels like we’ve left one cage just to be placed in another.”

“Sounds about right,” Charlie murmurs with a nod, his eyes falling to the floor. Just as Nick’s about to ask Charlie if he’s doing okay, the medical curtain slides open and Dr Singh appears with a cheerful smile. 

“Oh good, you’re up!” she beams before referencing the clipboard in her hand. “Your vitals are good and healthy, all things considered. I’ve come to let you know that you’ve been medically cleared to join the rest of District 13. Your rooms have been assigned, and you’ll get access to them later tonight after dinner. I will advise that for the next five weeks, I’ll be needing to see you every few days to check in on your eye’s healing progress, but so far it seems to be responding to the antibiotics the way we want it to. Tara will be showing you where to get the medicine from, which you’ll be taking twice a day until your socket is healed, and at that point, we can put the prosthetic in place.”

Nick expects a fuzzy happiness to form in his chest, or maybe even just relief that he finally gets to leave, but instead his dread only intensifies as it settles in his gut. He’s aware that he just finished complaining to Charlie about wanting to leave the infirmary, to leave the medical cage that he’s been confined to for almost two weeks now, but the idea of rejoining society – whatever that might look like down here in 13 – makes his skin crawl. He glances at Charlie, noticing his body language is as tense as Nick feels, and he musters up a brave face as he gives Dr Singh a curt nod, accompanied by a tight smile.

“Brilliant,” he sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Will Tara be our designated guide, then?”

“Actually,” Dr Singh glances over her shoulder and towards the door that’s just out of Nick and Charlie’s eyesight, “I figured we’d have a local give you the tour. Accompanied by guards, of course.” Dr Singh leans forward, placing a hand against her face to hide her lips from whoever’s watching her. “Nothing personal, just protocol. I’m sure you understand.” 

Nick feels his face burn with anger because no, he doesn’t fucking understand why they need to continue to be babysat, but before he can say anything, Charlie intervenes. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing over at Nick. “So, who’s going to be giving us the tour?”

“Oh, right! Come on in–” Dr Singh says over her shoulder, but she doesn’t get a chance to finish as a whir of black hair zooms past her and Nick. Charlie yelps in surprise before a soft gasp escapes him and Nick is about to intervene, his instinct to protect kicking in. He has to stop himself though, realising that Charlie is hugging the person back, cradling a sleek black bob with his hand and burying his face in the stranger’s collar.

Soft sobs fill the room as they all stand still, and Nick’s not sure how to act because apparently, the girl’s not hurting Charlie like he initially thought. Instead, she’s clinging to Charlie with an impressive strength, her body in a jumpsuit that’s about two times her size.

“It’s alright,” she says in a neutral voice that slightly wobbles. It doesn’t sound the least bit comforting to Nick, but it seems to act like a sedative for Charlie, whose hands are trembling as they hold their shoulders. “It’s alright, Charlie,” she repeats again. 

“T-Tori?” Charlie croaks, though his voice is muffled against her jumpsuit. “Oh my god, Tori!”

Tori. That’s right, he has a sister. How could I forget something like that?

After a few minutes of them hugging each other, they finally separate so Charlie can wipe away his tears. Dr Singh dabs a few tears of her own with a cloth while Nick stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do. Tori cups Charlie’s face, as if to confirm that he’s really there, and her lips curve into a smile. “When I told you to take care of Olly, I didn’t think you’d bring the whole government down with you.”

“When have I ever done anything half-arsed?” Charlie asks through an emotional laugh. His smile falls as his eyes widen. “Wait, Olly–”

“He’s fine,” Tori interrupts, her hand falling to Charlie’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Because of you.” She freezes before glancing over her shoulder and looking up at Nick, finally acknowledging him for the first time. “And you. You helped make our family whole again.” 

She folds her arms behind her back as she takes a small step towards Nick, her eyes calculating and analytical as she studies him up and down. It’s almost as if she doesn’t know what to make of him, and he has to try not to shuffle in place, suddenly feeling very uneasy. 

“You’re welcome?” Nick offers, uncertain of whether she was thanking him or if she was simply making a statement. “I’m Nick, by the way.” 

“I know,” she replies, the emotional girl that she was moments ago now long gone. Nick glances at Charlie, who’s apparently finding this all extremely hilarious as he tries to hide a smile, but fails miserably. He gives Tori a look, as if telling her to introduce herself, and Tori’s response is a slight flare of her nostrils.

Not a people person, I see, Nick thinks idly.

“I’m Tori,” she says after a few moments of silence. 

“I know,” Nick responds and for a second, he thinks he sees her mouth quirk with amusement.

“Well, this is all very touching, but I do have other patients to attend to,” Dr Singh interjects, startling all three of them. “As I’m sure you know, Charlie, you boys are in good hands. Best be off before the dinner bell rings.”

Tori nods and immediately turns, leaving the room before Nick and Charlie get a chance. As they shuffle out and towards the door, Nick feels Charlie’s warm fingers intertwine with his, and the knot of tension building between his shoulder blades loosens. 

Once he’s sure Tori’s out of earshot, he glances down at the other and leans close to whisper, “I don’t think she likes me.” 

Charlie chuckles fondly, resting his head against Nick’s arm. “Tori works in her own way. If she didn’t like you, she wouldn’t have thanked you.”

“That was a thank you?” Nick murmurs with surprise. Charlie’s lips curl into a smile as he looks up at Nick, his eyes twinkling with happiness. 

“As close to one as you’ll get, I’m afraid. At least for now.” 

They walk in silence after that, Tori mumbling softly every so often as she points in different directions. He isn’t sure how long she or the other district refugees have been there, but it’s apparently been long enough that Tori has the place memorised like the back of her hand. The guards walking with them don’t say a word, the only sign of their presence being the weight of their stares and the thuds of their boots against the industrial concrete flooring. He manages to keep up with the pace, but mentally he’s stuck in his own mind. Worries and doubts about his family’s survival creep into his brain as they wind through the stark underground compound that is District 13. It’s a maze of reinforced steel and fluorescent lighting, each corridor connecting to the next through brief, tunnel-like walkways.

It almost reminds him of the ant colony that used to be in his old classroom back in District 2, where he’d spend his early mornings before being shipped off to the training academy. He’s almost positive that if he could get his hands on a blueprint of the bunker’s layout, it would resemble the same meticulous, compartmentalised structure. Everything about District 13 exudes control. The people walk with purpose and speak in low tones, seemingly bound by a shared, invisible code. There’s no decoration, no colour, no warmth – only function. And, beneath it all, a constant, humming tension. Every now and then the soft chime of an elevator echoes down the corridor, followed by the metallic clatter of doors opening. Citizens of 13 emerge in strict uniforms that mirror Nick’s own – some in pairs, others alone. Most pause when Tori passes, eyes flickering to Nick and Charlie, who are trailing behind her under armed escort. Some regard them with curiosity, others with something closer to suspicion – or worse, disdain.

Is it because we’re victors, or refugees? Nick wonders, though he quickly notices that most of the looks leaning towards the side of disdain are aimed at him specifically. No doubt because of the district he comes from. 

District 2 was and always has been on the side of the Capitol, especially back in the Dark Days: watching and aiding in District 13’s demise like the loyal ‘lap dogs’ they were bred to be. Even though he himself is not to blame for the heinous acts that made District 13 go into hiding, the blood that courses through his veins belongs to those who came long before him. The blood of the enemy. All he can hope is that it doesn’t put a target on his back or, even worse, Charlie’s.

As they pass, Nick notices how the people seem to move in synchrony, each step measured and purposeful. Down here, they are trained to survive and are fully aware that in order to succeed, they require more than just physical stamina. They need to be willing to completely surrender to the strict and calculated life their district demands of them; there's no space for personal desires, no time for hesitation. Even with one working eye, Nick can see it as clear as day because he lived it. Back in District 2.

Bile begins to rise in his throat and suddenly, this bunker feels claustrophobic. He thought the one benefit of being in the Hunger Games – winning or not – would be that he’d never have to return to the life of a soldier. Either he’d live his days out in Victor’s Village or he’d die in the arena. Charlie seems to notice the change in Nick’s mood because he comes to a halt, causing Nick to gently tug his arm. Nick stops moving and looks back at him, trying to play it cool, but Charlie knows him too well at this point.

Better than anyone at this point.

“What’s wrong, Nick?” Charlie asks, already pressing his wrist to Nick’s forehead so he can feel his temperature. Nick swallows thickly, noticing that Tori and the guards have stopped too. A faint sense of paranoia begins to settle in his chest as Nick feels the armed soldiers staring him down, as if he’s some feral animal that could do something erratic at any given moment.

Maybe I am some animal. They saw me kill those tributes too, didn’t they? They saw me kill Ben with my bare hands. Nick licks his cracked lips, forcing himself to focus on the big blue eyes of the man he loves and not on the unbearable weight of everyone’s stares. He looks down at their shoes as he mumbles, “I think I just feel claustrophobic. It’ll pass.”

Charlie nods in understanding – not because he believes Nick’s words but because he knows that they’re not alone.

“Right,” he murmurs softly, his hand lowering to interlock their fingers. “Well, once we get out of these hallways, maybe it’ll feel a bit less cramped, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nick whispers. “Yeah, maybe.”

***

By the time Tori finishes giving the tour of District 13, or at least showing them the main areas they need to know, they end up in the dining hall. It’s a decently sized space that can easily fit hundreds of people at a time, but it’s still nothing compared to District 2. There is no open blue sky to look at, no white clouds to see shapes in. Only dull gray concrete with yellowing incandescent light bulbs and rusty orange stains caused by water damage. They’re about fifteen minutes early to dinner according to the digital screens mounted on the four pillars supporting the ceiling.

The guards are no longer boxing in Nick and the Spring siblings. Instead they’re posted at different corners of the room, no doubt in preparation for the dinner rush that’s about to happen. Tori and Charlie are sitting at a table talking quietly while Nick leans against one of the thinner pillars that has nothing hanging on it. Even though he still feels as if he’s trapped in a cage – albeit a different kind – he realises that Charlie was right. Now that they’re in a more open space, he does feel a little bit better. The air still smells stale to him, thanks to the recycled air system they have, and it doesn’t feel as cramped either. He finds himself becoming more at ease, especially with Charlie close by. 

Charlie. The boy with the bow. The boy that I love. 

Nick smiles fondly as he watches Charlie’s head fall back with laughter while Tori rolls her eyes, though she’s fighting a smile of her own. This is the first time Nick has seen Charlie so… happy. Even with the truth of whatever’s happening above ground looming over their heads, Charlie is absolutely glowing. His eyes hold a twinkle that Nick’s never seen before, smiling so big that dimples kiss either side of his face, something Nick didn’t even know he had. While Charlie says something in response, Nick has to actively fight the urge to poke one. Charlie’s eye catches his and Charlie smiles shyly, patting the spot next to him in a quiet invitation. 

You don’t have to tell me twice, Nick thinks as he returns the smile, this one a lot easier than the others he’s had to force since arriving here. Tori doesn’t seem to mind, which is reassuring in a weird way because it’s not an outright ‘ piss off ’. 

“Tori was just telling me about how Olly made his first friend here,” Charlie chuckles. 

Nick’s about to ask to hear the story again when a loud chime echoes throughout the dining hall. The three of them look up at the screens hanging on the pillar, seeing a digital bell swinging back and forth before the words ‘DINNER TIME’ appear. As they all come to a stand, people begin pouring into the room one by one like a well-oiled machine. Within minutes, the once vast dining hall is now full with different District 13 citizens. It’s extremely overwhelming and Nick’s heart is beginning to hasten as he takes a step back.

But then he feels a hand touch his, followed by Charlie’s warmth as he moves closer. “It’s okay,” Charlie says. “I’m not used to being around people yet either.”

Nick looks down at Charlie, and a surge of bravery courses through him. Charlie’s words not only offer him reassurance, they serve as a reminder. A reminder that Nick isn’t alone, that Charlie’s going through the exact same thing. 

Where you go, I’ll go. Always.

“Thanks,” Nick whispers softly, squeezing Charlie’s hand and pressing a kiss against his soft curls. He stiffens slightly at the public display of affection, trying to figure out why the fuck he just did that in front of everyone, even if they’re not all paying attention.

Because it feels natural. Because I’m in love and like Charlie, I don’t want to hide it from anyone. Not anymore.

Tori stares at Nick’s hand that’s splayed across Charlie’s shoulder, but she doesn’t say anything. He thinks he sees the corners of her eyes soften. 

“Charlie!” A voice shouts before a short blur of a person crashes into Charlie, and then Nick. 

Nick inhales sharply, his eyes widening as he looks down to see a young boy hugging Charlie tightly. Though he can’t see the boy’s face, he immediately knows this is Oliver Spring. If the familiarity isn’t obvious enough, the head of dark raven curls is a dead giveaway. Nick lets Charlie’s hand go so Charlie can fully embrace his little brother, cupping the back of his head as Oliver grips Charlie’s jumpsuit tighter. 

“Olly!” Charlie beams as fresh tears begin to slide down his face. Olly’s body starts to shake as he cries into Charlie’s neck, and Charlie begins to stroke Olly’s curls. “It’s okay… It's okay. I’m here, little mouse,” he breathes. It makes Nick’s heart swell with happiness.

This. This is the ending Charlie deserves. Not some bloody death in the arena.

After a few moments, Olly pulls back to wipe away some of his tears. “I’m so sor–” he begins to snivel, but Charlie holds a finger up.

“Ah-ah! Don’t you dare say sorry. Not for anything,” Charlie interrupts in a firm tone. Olly’s lips part again, as if he’s going to defend why he wants to say sorry, but Charlie shakes his head. “Not a word. Got it?”

Olly sighs in defeat but he nods, giving Charlie another hug. “I’m glad you’re back. We were rooting for you the entire time. I knew you’d come back home.”

Charlie smiles shyly and glances towards Nick. “I didn’t do it on my own.” 

Olly glances over at Nick, and it makes his entire body still. He’s not sure how Olly’s going to react, considering Tori was a little standoffish. Nick gives Olly a courteous nod, expecting that to be the end of their interaction, but instead Olly’s body crushes against his and a pair of slim arms wrap around his waist. Nick’s eyes widen as he raises his arms, not sure what to do. He helplessly looks towards Charlie for help. Charlie, however, is staring with a grin as his fingers cover his mouth to hide his amusement. He finally gives a wave towards Nick, encouraging him to embrace it. 

Nick hesitates for another brief moment before slowly bringing his arms down and wrapping them around Olly’s petite shoulders. “Thank you,” Olly says in a muffled voice against Nick’s chest. “You brought him home to us.”

Nick’s heart swells, and he’s not sure why but the younger boy’s words are what makes him break. A few tears escape his eye as he gives Olly a gentle squeeze. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was able to.” 

Olly releases Nick and wipes a brand new set of tears away, looking up at him with awe. “You’re a good guy, you know. I could tell right away you weren’t a Career.”

“Olly,” Charlie warns, fully aware of how much Nick hates being compared to Careers, but much to Nick’s surprise, he actually doesn’t mind it. Especially considering this is the first time that someone besides Charlie has acknowledged that.

“Thanks, Olly.” Nick smiles. “That means a lot.”

“Nick!” a voice shouts, one that catches Nick off guard entirely and makes his head snap upwards. Nick’s eye scans the crowd as he looks around before spotting the voice’s source. Otis waves at him rapidly, a grin on his face, and Nick’s heart skips several beats.

If Otis is he, who else survived?

Nick wants to run over immediately but reminds himself of Charlie and the others. He excuses himself politely, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder gently before walking towards Otis. While he’d never felt like he could be his true self around Otis back in District 2, seeing the other boy here is still a refreshing sight. He breaks into a run as Otis does the same, the two of them embracing each other with a hug. Nick’s bad eye begins to sting as more tears form in his eye, but he holds them back as he claps Otis’s back with his hand.

“Sick patch!” Otis beams the moment they break apart. If they were back in District 2, the compliment would have irritated Nick to no end. But now they’re in District 13, it feels genuine and Nick isn’t sure why it feels different here.

“Thanks, mate,” Nick laughs breathily before looking Otis over. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be in Two?”

Otis’ smile falters a little at the mention of their home and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well, I was one of the lucky ones, I suppose.”

Whatever fleeting joy Nick felt is long gone now as his smile falls too. “Lucky ones?” he asks with confusion, a fresh wave of dread trickling down his spine. “What happened in Two?”

Otis licks his lips nervously and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s not able to meet Nick’s eye as he replies, “A lot’s happened since you left. I don’t know what all you’ve been told but maybe we should go where it’s a little more quiet?”

Fuck. There’s no universe where that sentence means anything good. Nick shuffles on his feet a little, looking back at Charlie. Since reuniting with Otis, a boy around Nick’s age has joined the Spring siblings’ circle. Charlie’s not paying much attention to him though; instead his eyes are focused on Nick. Nick has half a mind to ask Charlie to join him but instead he gives Charlie the best smile he can manage, waving before looking back at Otis. 

“Yeah, alright. Are we allowed to?” Nick asks, trying to hide his anxiety. “District Thirteen seems to have some strict rules.”

“As long as we stay within the dining hall, we’ll be fine,” Otis reassures him before making his point by turning around and disappearing around the corner. Nick glances around before following him, his body growing colder with every step he takes away from Charlie. They don’t walk very far, Otis sitting on a bench that’s a few feet from the door. Nick sits down too, folding his hands together as his right leg begins to bounce subtly. 

“So… what happened?” Nick asks quietly, looking over at Otis. 

While it doesn’t look like much about Otis has changed, now that the serotonin Nick felt at the discovery of Otis is fading, he’s noticing the subtle differences. The dark circles under Otis’s eyes, the way his fingers have a slight tremor to them, the bruising on Otis’ neck… He might still be Otis, but he’s not the Otis that Nick once knew. There’s an imaginary weight on the boy’s shoulders, a weight that’s only caused by trauma. When Otis looks him in the eye, Nick realises that Otis’ eyes are bloodshot, no doubt from lack of sleep.

“I guess it depends,” Otis exhales slowly, his leg beginning to bounce too – an anxious tick they have in common. “How much do you know?”

Nick racks his brain, trying to remember what all Tara had told him on the hovercraft. “I know there were riots… Bombings as well, both in the Town Centre and in Victor’s Village.” Nick stops himself from asking about Sahar and Sami or his mum, because even though he’s desperate to know, he’s grown scared of what the answer may be. “And that District Two is on lockdown right now.”

Otis presses his lips together in a thin line, nodding. “Yeah, you know the jist of it then.”

“I don’t know everything though,” Nick adds, hoping Otis didn’t have them come out here just to tell him that. “Why don’t you fill me in? If that’s alright?”

Otis nods. “Well, I think the riots started shortly after you laid the girl from Twelve on the ground. That was super sweet, by the way. Moved a lot of people in Two. Just… not the right ones.”

Nick doesn’t have to ask for clarification – he knows exactly who Otis is referring to. 

In District 2, the citizens categorised themselves into two different groups: Keepers and Bleeders. The citizens who are loyal to the Capitol, who believe in the idea of the Games, the Careers, and the Capitol’s military are known as the Keepers. They’re like Peacekeepers – just without the peace. Supportive of their government and President Erevan, the Keepers of District 2 are willing to do whatever is required of them by the Capitol. They have utter disdain for anyone who opposes their beliefs, most of the Keepers’ ancestries going all the way back to the Dark Days. their bloodline stemming from those who fought on the side of the Capitol. 

The Bleeders on the other hand are the citizens who sympathise with the lower districts – the people who have “bleeding hearts” for the districts, as the Keepers say. Unlike the Keepers, their bloodline comes from the few rebels in District 2 that survived the Dark Days. The ones who turned themselves in when they realised the war had already been won. 

Growing up in a home where his father was a Keeper and his mother a Bleeder-in-disguise, Nick never really knew where exactly he fell on the spectrum. He always leaned towards being a Bleeder, but after portraying himself as a Keeper for most of his childhood, it was easy to get lost in the role he was playing sometimes. It wasn’t until David was picked as a volunteer for the 69th Hunger Games that Nick knew for certain he would never fall in the Keeper category.

“At first, the protests were small,” Otis continues in a flat tone, idly fidgeting with his trouser leg and wiping non-existent dirt away. “They were containable. But then you and Charlie became allies… and then… pals, bros, mates. Your love with Charlie… it changed something – between the Keepers and Bleeders, I mean.” Otis’ brows furrowed together as his eyes met Nick’s. “As you and Charlie spent more time together, the same happened with some of the Keepers and the Bleeders. They started talking, but you could kind of tell that the Keepers were hesitant to mix in with them.

“And then you went on your speech against the Capitol and for once, you made the
Keepers listen to the Bleeder’s logic,” Otis actually laughs, rubbing his jaw awkwardly as if he’s remembering the faint sting of being punched. It makes Nick idly wonder what Otis went through while he was away. “And how could they not? You were the poster child for future Keepers, next to your brother.”

Nick’s lips press together in a thin line as he looks down. He remembers being told that... a lot. His father and brother, Keeper and victor, paved the path for Nick to follow. 

“Yeah… But Otis, I’m confused. What does this have to do with District Two being on lockdown?” Nick asks quietly. “So what, they finally realised they’re a part of the same district? That should’ve happened ages ago.”

“That’s the thing, Nick,” Otis replies dryly, “When there’s nothing left to divide, unity comes along. And, because you got the keepers to listen, that seemed to erase the line between the two. So when the protests turned into riots that became more frequent, the Peacekeepers couldn’t keep it contained, not like the protests before. Fuck, I even saw some of them begin to join our side after the second day.”

Nick’s eyebrows raise at that and he can’t help the look of surprise on his face. “Our side?” he asks, unable to hide the shock in his voice. Realistically, Nick knows that he and Otis are both in District 13 as refugees after all. And yet, before now, Nick would never have imagined Otis being on the side of the districts.

Otis smiles and playfully shoves Nick’s arm. “You think you were the only one acting? You had me fooled too, until I watched your Games. Anyway, shortly after the fog event is when it really got bad. Charlie wasn’t the only one who thought you’d died. Even after we knew you’d survived, everyone was angry. Factory workers went on strike, as did some of the Peacekeepers and cadets. With the lack of authority and eyes everywhere, weapons began to go missing; batches of guns and smoke powder were disappearing daily. Public whippings and executions began to increase, curfews were instated and search parties sent out for those who abandoned their factory and peacekeeping duties. There were whispers on the streets of an impending lockdown when the bombings happened.”

“I heard about those,” Nick sighs, his brows pinching together with worry. He can’t look Otis in the eye as he continues. “I know Victor’s Village was one of the locations, too.”

“I wasn’t near the Town Square, but I was at Victor’s Village when it happened,” Otis’s lips press together as a tear slides down his cheek. Nick can physically feel the blood drain from his face as he replays Otis’s words a few times over.

“You… you were there?” Nick whispers, a harsh breath escaping him as if he’d just been sucker-punched. The fear that held him back from asking the question that’s been running through his mind since he left the arena evaporates and the words fall from his lips before he can stop himself.“Otis… My mum. Do you know if my house was hit? Was she home? What about Sahar and Sami? David?” 

The verbal dam that Nick had control of earlier is now long gone. Now that he knows Otis was actually there, he wants as many answers as he can get. As many as he needs. 

Even if he won’t like what he hears.

“David left Two a few days after you entered the arena and wasn’t in Two when the bombs went off. I don’t know where Sahar and Sami are, but neither of their names were listed when the mayor announced fatalities. And your mum is here, but…” Otis’s voice fades. Nick’s heart lurches in his throat as his ears perk up.

My mum is here? She’s alive?

“Take me to her,” Nick interjects before Otis can continue. “Otis, please. Take me to my mum. I need to see her.”

“Nick?” Charlie’s voice appears from around the corner, interrupting their conversation as his eyes lock with Nick’s. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise you two were still talking. I can come back–”

“It’s fine,” Nick promises as he abruptly comes to a stand. “Otis was just about to take me to see my mum. He says she’s here!” he adds, excitement and hope coursing through his veins. This entire time, Nick thought he was alone – that no one was going to be waiting for him once he got out of the infirmary. But now, not only is he talking with Otis but his mum is confirmed to be here, somewhere in this bloody stone bunker! 

“Nick,” Otis tries to interrupt, but Nick refuses. He doesn’t care what bullshit rules or regulations District 13 may have about where they need to be and what time they need to be there. He did not survive the Games just to be told he can’t see his mum.

“Otis, come on,” Nick pleads, his tone borderline petulant. “Please take me to see her. I’ll deal with whatever repercussions the higher ups of Thirteen throw at you. Just let me have five minutes with her.”

“Nick, she’s not–“ Otis starts again, but this time Charlie’s the one who cuts him off.

“Please?” Charlie asks in a timid voice, though his eyes are full of determination. A surge of appreciation courses through Nick’s chest as he feels Charlie’s hand find his, giving it a squeeze.

Otis looks between the two of them, his hesitation slowly turning into defeat. He nods his head as he comes to a stand. “Alright, then. Let’s go see your mum.”

***

Nick stares through the glass window of the room his mum’s in, every second chipping away at his heart until it’s nothing but dust. Sarah is lying in a bed, the room dimly lit by a few electric lanterns hanging on the wall. There’s a tube in her mouth and an oxygen mask resting underneath her nostrils. Wires and smaller tubes cover both of her arms, a heart monitor beeping beside her. If she wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of medical equipment and there weren't slight bruising around her face and arms, it would almost look like she’s just taking a nap.

Otis’ back is turned away, as if he can’t stand to look at the sight. Nick wants to tear his gaze away too, but he’s unfortunately rooted to his spot, only managing to look away from her body long enough to see the bursts of heartbeats represented on the screen beside her. There’s a steady stream of tears falling from his eye and his lower lip is trembling, but that’s the only sign his body gives of the tornado of emotions brewing inside of him.

“Nick, I tried to–“ Otis begins to say apologetically but Nick interrupts him.

“What happened?” Nick asks in a shaky voice, his throat too thick with emotion for him to ask much else. Otis sighs dejectedly as he turns around, crossing his arms against his chest in a protective stance as he looks at Sarah too.

“While you and David were gone, your mum’s house became one of the few safe places that Bleeders and Keepers could meet up to plan the protests and riots. The night before your fight with Harry, we had a meeting about the next riot. We spent time painting signs and speaking about tactics. Your mum made us some ham hock soup with fresh bread from the bakery that she bought earlier.” Otis smiles sadly, his eyes becoming glassy with tears as he continues to recount the events. “Sahar and Sami had just left because Sami was getting tired from how much he’d eaten, but a couple of us stayed behind to help clean the place up after the painting signs. My sister and I as well as some of the factory boys were just walking out the door when…” Otis’s voice cuts off as he physically flinches, his eyes screwing shut as he inhales sharply. He buries his hands under his armpits.

“It’s okay,” Nick whispers, not wanting to hear anymore right now. He can tell Otis is reliving the memory and honestly, at this point, he already regrets asking because the grief that’s starting to wash over him is too overwhelming. 

She’s still alive, he tries to remind himself. She’s not awake but she’s alive. She just needs some time to wake up, right?

Nick feels a hand rest between his shoulder blades and looks down to see Charlie staring back at him with sadness etched into his features. Nick’s lower lip begins to tremble again, and his vision starts to blur as his tears amplify. He turns and wraps Charlie in a big hug, sniffling as silent sobs rack his shoulders. Nick buries his face into Charlie’s neck, his fingers gripping the other’s shoulders while the younger boy comforts him.

“I know, my love,” Charlie whispers softly, seemingly not aware of the nickname he’s just said. His fingers thread through Nick’s hair in a soothing pattern. “I know.”

“It’s not fair,” Nick whimpers against the warmth of Charlie’s skin. Charlie presses a tender kiss to his temple before resting his cheek along Nick’s forehead. “I tried my best and yet… yet…” Nick’s throat tightens as a fresh stream of tears escapes both of his eyes, causing his head to start pounding. But he can’t find it in him to stop. 

“Nick, this isn’t your fault,” Charlie murmurs softly and Nick basks in the comfort of Charlie’s nails lightly scraping along his scalp. He wants to argue, wants to point out that if he had stayed, he could’ve saved her. But when Nick opens his mouth, quiet whimpers fall from his lips followed by sharp gasps of air. 

If I hadn’t volunteered… Why did I volunteer? Was it really worth all of this?

“Do you hear that?” Charlie asks softly, interrupting Nick’s spiral. He slowly removes his face from Charlie’s neck and sniffles as he perks his ears up to listen. A muffled beeping can be heard through the glass window next to them, the one coming from Sarah’s heart monitor. Nick’s vision becomes less blurry as his tears slow down. 

“That’s the sound of life, Nick,” Charlie whispers, using the pad of his thumb to swipe a tear away from Nick’s cheek. “That’s the sound of hope. She’s still here, still fighting for you, I just know it.” Nick leans into Charlie’s touch briefly before stepping closer to the mirror, placing his hand against it. “She just needs more time to wake up, just like you did when we first got here.”

“When the mayor announced the casualties, he also announced the bombs were from the rebels in the lower districts,” Otis murmurs, reminding both Nick and Charlie of his presence. “But I don’t think that’s true.”

Nick’s brows furrow as he thinks it over, processing what Otis’s words. Charlie’s the first one to speak up. “Why wouldn’t it be? District 2 is loyal to the Capitol for the most part and they provide the Capitol all of their military equipment. If I were part of the rebels – and I mean no offense when I say this – I would probably go for District 2 first.”

While what Charlie is saying sounds completely logical, Nick can see where Otis is coming from too. District 2 is not only known for being orderly and loyal, they pride themselves for it. If there’s hope spreading throughout the district, what better way to squander it than with some fear? 

“I think Otis might be right,” Nick utters, his brows pinched together. While trying to solve the mystery of where the bombs truly came from seems a little redundant and not at the top of his priority list, it’s a welcomed distraction from the fact that his mother’s unconscious body is in the room next to him. “Were any of you followed?” Nick asks. “Maybe not the night it happened but leading up to it. Did you notice anything?”

Otis strokes his chin idly, his eyes becoming unfocused as he tries to recall. “No one ever mentioned anything about being followed, but it wouldn’t surprise me, if I’m honest. We tried to stay diligent, to constantly be on the lookout and be subtle whenever we arrived there, like how we were trained. However…”

“We had to learn it from somewhere,” Nick nods. He sighs and places both of his hands on his hips. “So you think District 2 just did it to cover their own uprising? That definitely wouldn’t look good to the Capitol if District Two can’t keep control of its own citizens.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a cover-up, maybe it was part of the propaganda for the Capitol?” Otis suggests. “There’d been rumors about uprisings in the lower districts since before the Games even began this year. If the stories are true, pinning the bombings in Two on the rebels–”

“While also dealing with rebels of their own,” Charlie chimes in.

“Would take care of two problems with one solution,” Nick finishes both of their sentences as the realisation settles in for all three of them. “Fucking hell. Wait, so, how did you get here, then?” Nick asks Otis. “If District Two is still on lockdown, that is.”

“Your mum and I… We were the only ones in the house who survived the bombing,” Otis glances through the window, his brows pinching together. “I was stationed in the same medical bay when a group of doctors,” Otis says, making air quotes with his fingers, “came in. They looked different though, not like normal district doctors. I pretended to be asleep to see what they were up to when I noticed that they were pulling her hospital bed away, with her still in it. I snuck out of bed shortly after they left the room and followed them all the way to a hovercraft that was towards the back of the bay. That’s when…”

Otis’s voice trails off as his eyes lock with something behind Nick. Confused, Nick and Charlie turn around to see a man walking towards them, a clipboard in hand. He’s not wearing a jumpsuit like the rest of them though. Instead, he’s wearing a charcoal military uniform, his brown hair gelled to the side, and his breast pockets adorned with different metals of service. A name patch with ‘MCEWAN’ embroidered into it rests above his heart.

“Excuse me,” he interrupts politely, “but I’ve been sent to retrieve the two of you.”

Nick bristles at the phrasing and before he can stop himself, he gingerly grabs Charlie’s wrist, putting himself in between Charlie and the stranger. “Under whose orders?”

“The President of District Thirteen’s,” the man replies, unphased by Nick’s challenge. Nick feels Charlie’s hand touch his back before stepping to his side. 

“It’s alright,” Charlie whispers softly. “Let’s not be rude, hm?” he adds, as if to remind Nick that we’re not in enemy territory anymore.

Nick sighs and looks back at the hospital window, stepping closer to it so he can get one final glance of his mum. 

“Don’t worry,” Otis reassures him. “I’m not going to leave her alone. I’ll wait here while you’re away.”

Nick stares at him for a moment before nodding, reminding himself that his mum would want him to go too. He can practically feel her shoving him, telling him that change doesn’t happen without action being taken. He presses his forehead against the cool glass, closing his eye.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers softly before taking a step back and squaring his shoulders as he stands by Charlie’s side once more. 

“This way, please,” the soldier says before turning on his heel and walking off. He barely gives Nick or Charlie the chance to catch up. As they walk, Charlie gently elbows Nick’s arm. 

“Does he look familiar to you?” Charlie whispers. Nick looks the soldier up and down before shaking his head. 

“No, not really. Why? Does he look familiar to you?” Nick quizzes him as they turn around a corner. He can’t be bothered with paying attention as to where they’re going at this point, every twist and turn leading to an identical hallway as the one before. 

“I think I saw him on the hovercraft that brought us here. He helped bring you off the hovercraft when we first arrived.” Charlie says softly. “He said his name is James, if I remember correctly.”

James McEwan… Now that I think about it, the name sounds vaguely familiar. But why?

After what feels like they've walked for an age, James holds up a hand to signal for them to stop. Right as he does, there’s a soft ding to their right and an elevator door opens. Nick and Charlie glance over as James motions for them to enter. Nick lets Charlie go first, following after. Once all three are in, James presses a button and they begin to descend instead of going up like he originally expected, an awkward silence settling amongst them. Nick glances up to find the screen that shows what floor they’re on, but the only thing showing is a digital clock in Military time. Underneath the clock, the words ‘THREE HOURS TO CURFEW’ glow in red. His eyes flicker back to the row of buttons, none of them numbered, and he wonders how James knew which one to press. However, he doesn’t ask, instead closing his eye and waiting for the elevator to come to a stop.

When the doors finally open, Nick’s eyebrows raise at the change of scenery. The hallway in front of them is a cool grey compared to the warmer tones of grey and white on the upper levels, and it looks like it’s cleaned meticulously every day. There’s no ceiling lights visible and yet the walls seem to shimmer regardless. It’s not until they begin walking down the hallway that Nick realises it’s due to floor lamps that appear symmetrically along the corridor.

James places his hand on a scanner mounted against the wall before it slides open silently. As they enter, soft voices can be heard murmuring to one another. The first person he recognises is Tara, followed by Darcy, and then–

“Nathan!” Nick gasps, a surge of excitement coursing through him as Nathan Ajayi’s eyes meet his. Nathan’s face breaks into a grin, and he steps away from the table that everyone’s gathered around. The man pulls him into a hug, which Nick embraces. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips as Nathan pats his back a few times before giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Hello, my friend.” Nathan smiles warmly. Nick blinks a couple of times before looking at the rest of the table. Charlie’s currently hugging the stylists from District 12 – Elle Argent – and Tara is talking with Darcy and…

“Mr Farouk?” Nick blurts out, because Yousef Farouk is the last person he ever expected to see in a place like this. “You were in on this?”

Mr Farouk sucks his tongue with annoyance. “Nicholas, this is far bigger than you boys. I’ve been a part of this cause longer than you’ve been alive.” The older man’s face softens ever so slightly as he looks between Nick and Charlie. “But I’m glad that you two are the ones here right now.”

That’s as close to a ‘I’m glad to see you too’ as I’m gonna get from him, Nick thinks idly. Yet, Mr Farouk’s abrasiveness is actually a comforting familiarity in the vast sea of unknown that Nick’s found himself in.

“Get all the greetings out now,” a sudden voice says from the back of the room. A voice that sends a chill down Nick’s spine and ignites his blood aflame. His head whips around as his eye lands on the source. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in a long time and one he never hoped to hear again in his life. “Because we don’t have much time to socialise. Everything we’ve worked for is at stake if we stay idle for much longer.”

The voice belongs to the Head Gamemaker. Isaac Henderson. 

However, Isaac’s not dressed in his normal Capitol attire – instead of silky white, he’s covered in a shade of dusty grey from head to toe, but there’s still an undeniable look of authority to the outfit. It’s not the standard-issue jumpsuit worn by District 13’s citizens, nor does it resemble the practical uniforms of District 13’s military personnel. The uniform Isaac is wearing has a deliberate distinction tailored into it, commanding attention and respect without needing medals to prove it. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” Nick spits venomously, his fists already clenching at his side. 

“Nick and Charlie,” Tara looks from them to Isaac, “Meet the President of District Thirteen, Isaac Henderson.”

Chapter Text

“Why the fuck are you here?” The sharpness in Nick’s tone causes Charlie to flinch, with his own mind still reeling at the sight of Isaac. He can feel his stomach churn and he suddenly feels queasy.

I never thought I’d have to see his face again. Why the fuck does the universe have such a sick sense of humour? 

“Nick and Charlie,” Tara responds warily as she looks between the two of them. Her golden irises then shift towards Isaac. “Meet the President of District Thirteen, Isaac Henderson.”

Charlie stares at Isaac as he slowly, but confidently, makes his way over to stand a few feet away from them.

“I’m here because I organised your survival,” Isaac replies calmly, addressing Nick’s question. Nick’s jaw muscles flex in annoyance and his nostrils flare. The look of rage in his eye is similar to the one he had in the arena – one Charlie hasn’t seen in weeks. 

“Survival?!” Nick scoffs incredulously. “You almost killed us multiple times!”

A sudden image of Nick’s bruised and unconscious body flashes in Charlie’s mind, and he has to shake his head to return to the present. Nick has stepped up to Isaac, and is almost towering over him with tight fists by his side. But Isaac seems unbothered.

“I had to play the long game,” Isaac begins to explain. “It was the only way I – we – could pull this off.” He looks around at everyone else in the room, who are all watching with apprehension on their faces. 

“Pull this off?” Charlie hears himself say in a sharp tone. He feels his anger beginning to make an appearance, his mind switching back to fight mode, one foot still stuck in the arena. 

“Charlie–” Darcy interrupts, but Charlie holds up his hand without looking away from Isaac.

“No! You are responsible for the deaths of twenty-two children, and that’s just in these Games. How can you sit there and act like nothing has happened? You have no idea what it’s like in there. You just watch from your place of power, safe behind the walls of the Capitol, while we had to fight for our lives. So, forgive us if we’re not the most enthusiastic about this fucked up reunion, let alone trusting of–” Charlie waves a hand up and down near Isaac frustratedly, “this man.”

There’s a few beats of silence, with Nick and Charlie both breathing heavily and Isaac staring right back at them with an indescribable look on his face.

“You’re right,” Isaac says eventually, a sad smile appearing on his lips. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, many things. But when I realised how fucked today’s society is, I found people I could trust and began to create a plan – this plan – to try and stop President Erevan. All we needed was the right tributes, and that ended up being you two. Now that you’re here, we can fight together for a better future and stop the Games once and for all.”

Charlie blinks a few times in disbelief, turning his head to look at Nick, who looks as doubtful as Charlie feels.

“It’s true,” Tara says, moving towards them. “Isaac is on our side. He helped turn District Thirteen into what it is today. He’s the reason you have a chance to live. The only reason you had to suffer as much as you did was to keep any suspicion away.”

“How could you let those things happen, though?” Nick asks, his voice cracking with emotion. “So many children died for nothing. Juniper, Ivy, Cassia…” His tone is full of anguish, grief, and anger. “Why didn’t you try and stop it before now? Especially considering you two have been through it?”

“We didn’t know,” Darcy joins in. She’s sitting on top of the table, her feet resting on the arm of a chair and her arms resting on top of her knees. “Isaac only came to us a few days before we got you out of there.” 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Nick mumbles quietly. He runs his hands over his face, breathing heavily into his palms. “Everything that’s happened – the Games, the riots, the chaos and death. You’re telling me that it’s all part of some big elaborate plan for the greater good? That it was a means to an end?” He pulls his hands away to stare at Isaac, not even attempting to hide the rage he obviously feels. But there’s a look of mourning in Nick’s eye, a look full of grieving the innocence he lost, and for the childhood he could’ve had.

Charlie hasn’t seen him look like this since that night on the balcony before the Games began, or maybe the fog in the arena… It’s almost frightening. 

“Yes,” Isaac replies simply. 

Charlie watches Nick carefully, and he sees the moment something inside Nick switches. His brows fall into a flat line, the emotion on his face wiped clean in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, Nick surges forward and grabs Isaac by the lapels of his jacket and shoves him against the nearest wall, his strength so great that Isaac’s feet dangle in the air. Everyone but Charlie moves forward, almost readying themselves to fight against Nick if they need to. Charlie looks around in a panic and notices that a few District 13 guards have raised their guns and are aiming directly at Nick from several angles. 

“My mother is in a fucking coma because of you,” Nick growls, shaking Isaac like a ragdoll. Charlie sees one of the guard’s fingers hover over her trigger, but she doesn’t shoot, seemingly waiting for Isaac to give the command. “My best friend and her brother are missing because of you! How dare you say that their suffering is for the greater good?! How is that fucking fair, huh?!”

The guards tighten their grip, and Tara and Darcy begin to move forward with their hands out. Panic surges through Charlie’s body, and he suddenly has a moment of clarity. This world is far from perfect, but if Isaac is the reason they’re both alive, then maybe they need to hear him out.

“Nick,” Charlie calls out with a wavering voice. He slowly makes his way to Nick and places a shaky hand on his shoulder. “Nick, please.” 

Nick’s entire body falters under Charlie’s touch, and the taller boy slowly turns his head to look at Charlie. He feels his heart break a million times over as Nick’s strong demeanour slowly vanishes, and tears begin to stream down his cheeks. “But my mum, Charlie,” he whispers through a stifled sob, his lower lip trembling.

“I know,” Charlie replies sadly. “But this isn’t the way. If what they’re saying is true, then we have to work with them, not against them. Like you said on the hovercraft, they’re our allies now.” 

Nick breathes out harshly through his nose and slowly turns back to look at Isaac, his brows pinched together and his lips pursing with trepidation. Isaac still appears calm, despite currently being pinned against the wall by someone who is a trained killing machine. Charlie can’t decide if he should be impressed or worried by that. Nick takes a few seconds more before finally releasing his grip on Isaac’s jacket and setting him back down onto the ground.

Charlie hears a collective sigh come from the people behind him as Nick takes a few steps back and turns to Charlie once again. Nick immediately sags, the exhaustion suddenly too much for his body, and Charlie is quick to grab onto Nick properly. Nick collapses into Charlie’s arms as sobs wrack through his body, his hands fisting the back of Charlie’s clothes. 

“Stand down,” Charlie hears Isaac say. “It’s fine. We can continue this conversation later.”

“Come on,” Tara says softly, coming up to Nick and Charlie. “Follow me.” 

Charlie adjusts his grip on Nick before making sure he is fine to walk, and then they both slowly follow Tara, Darcy and Mr Ajayi out of the room. A mix of emotions steadily flows through his body as he guides Nick along the corridor: anger that Nick has somehow continued to lose more than he deserves after the Games, Confusion because of all the new information that they’ve been given, and apprehension that this entire situation will break one of them – or maybe both of them.

Not that they were ever whole to begin with.

Charlie continues ruminating until they reach a smaller, private room. Inside, there’s a sofa with a set of varied cushions on it, a table and a few chairs stacked in the corner. 

“Sit him down there,” Mr Ajayi says, gesturing to the sofa as they walk into the room. 

Charlie leads Nick to the spot Mr Ajayi pointed to and Nick immediately grabs onto the arm of the sofa, collapsing onto the cushions. Charlie has to use his core strength to stay upright, since Nick almost pulls him down too, their arms still interlocked. Nick curls into himself, his head in his hands as fresh sobs silently shake his body. Charlie sits next to him and wraps an arm around his broad shoulders, rubbing up and down his arm in an attempt to soothe him.

“Here.” Mr Ajayi appears in front of them holding a glass of water. Charlie takes it and holds it out to Nick, but he doesn’t look up. Charlie looks back at Mr Ajayi, who merely sighs pensively before bringing a chair closer. Over Mr Ajayi’s shoulders, Charlie sees Darcy and Tara sitting at the table, watching them with identical looks of worry on their faces.

Nick has his eye squeezed shut, his clenched fists sporadically tapping against his forehead as he mumbles incoherently to himself. Charlie doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen Nick like this before. Nick has always been the strong one, the one to keep them pushing forward no matter what. So to see Nick like this… Well, it’s causing a pain that Charlie didn’t know existed. 

“Okay, Nick,” Mr Ajayi says softly. “You need to calm your breathing and clear your mind. I know it’s difficult but it’s the only way. You can hold onto Charlie if that would help.”

Nick doesn’t respond. It’s like whatever is tormenting him inside has taken over, blocking out every other sense he has. 

Charlie looks at Mr Ajayi with slight panic, and the older man frowns in thought before nodding. “Charlie, hold his hands and don’t let go.”

Charlie does as he’s told and reaches over to tenderly wrap his fingers around Nick’s wrist, trying not to trigger Nick’s fight reflexes. He’s not entirely successful as Nick’s arms instinctively jerk away from Charlie’s touch, but Charlie manages to keep a hold on either wrist. Nick’s cheeks are red from tears, his lips parted slightly as he stares at the floor, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. Charlie lets his fingers trace Nick’s palm before lacing their fingers together and even though Nick is silent, his fingertips begin to trace Charlie’s knuckle. 

“Nick, whenever you’re ready, I need you to look at me,” Mr Ajayi continues. “Focus on my voice, the feeling of Charlie’s hands, the way air fills up your lungs. Take deep breaths and breathe out slowly. You’re in District Thirteen and you’re safe.” 

Mr Ajayi continues to repeat and state similar things to him, and ever so slowly, Nick blinks a few times. Charlie’s heart flutters with hope as Nick opens his eye fully, although his focus remains on the ground before him – but it’s an improvement. Charlie tentatively squeezes Nick’s hands, and to his surprise, Nick squeezes back. It’s a weak attempt, just barely noticeable, but it tells Charlie that whatever Nick is experiencing right now will pass.

Finally, Nick’s breathing seems to have slowed down and the colour has somewhat returned to his face, the only thing remaining being a look of exhaustion. 

“Okay, good,” Mr Ajayi says. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Nick croaks out after a beat. 

“That’s normal,” Mr Ajayi replies. “Do you want to stay here and rest or would you rather go to your room?”

Nick just shrugs in reply and his grip on Charlie’s hands tightens. 

“We could stay in here, just you and me,” Charlie suggests in a soft voice. “You can use me as a pillow, I don’t mind.”

Nick glances up at him, his eyes looking a little teary but also relieved. Slowly, the older boy nods; his wide eyes are so full of emotion that it almost gives Charlie an idea of what Nick might have looked like when he was a child.

“We’ll make sure nobody comes in for a few hours.” Mr Ajayi smiles warmly and nods. He stands up and gestures to Tara and Darcy to follow him as they make their way out of the room, finally leaving Nick and Charlie alone for the first time in what feels like years.

As soon as the door closes with a click, Nick’s body seems to release all tension and falls back. Charlie adjusts his position to sit right next to Nick, only to see a single tear fall from the corner of his eye. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Charlie says quietly. He takes a hand and begins to run his fingers through Nick’s hair, slightly scratching his head every so often. A few more silent tears fall, but Charlie catches them with his fingers before they can go any further. “You’re okay. I’m here with you. You’re not alone, Nick. You know that, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Nick whispers with a slight nod. “I just hate this so fucking much.” 

“I know, I do too.” Charlie cups Nick’s face gently and Nick finally looks at him with watery eyes. “We’ll get through it. You are so strong, Nick.” 

Nick brings one of his hands to cover Charlie’s, and his thumb instantly rubs back and forth across the skin. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles. 

“Hey, none of that,” Charlie chuckles, leaning in slightly. “With everything that we’ve been through, I think we’re allowed to say we deserve each other.” 

Nick stares at him with so much adoration and fondness that it makes Charlie’s heart double in size. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Char,” Nick says softly, his thumb tracing a circle along the top of Charlie’s hand. “I… I wasn’t trained for this.”

Charlie tilts his head in understanding as he reaches up and cups Nick’s face, guiding the other to look at him. “I think you are the most capable person in all of Panem. I’ve seen what you can do, I’ve seen how you think, and I know that when something is on the line, you succeed every time. And you’re not doing it alone anymore. We aren’t alone anymore.”

Nick sniffs, his eye flickering down to Charlie’s lips as his mouth quirks into a faint smile. “You’re really good at pep talks, you know that? You always know what to say,” he says in a scratchy voice as he reaches out to toy with one of Charlie’s curls. 

Charlie can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, his face growing warm as his eyes flicker towards Nick’s lips too. There’s an invisible spark in the air that ignites, one that crackles and fizzles with an unspoken emotion that Charlie can’t name.

They both lean in at the same time, meeting in the middle for a gentle kiss. Nick pulls Charlie closer so that their chests touch, his arm snaking around Charlie’s waist as his other hand feathers through Charlie’s curls. Charlie can feel Nick’s chest rise and fall with every breath as their lips move. It’s simple and innocent, but there’s no denying the amount of love that it holds. 

When they finally break, Nick lets his head fall onto Charlie’s shoulder, the exhaustion clearly catching up to him. “Wanna lie down on me as you try to sleep?” Charlie asks, his words almost disappearing into Nick’s hair. 

Nick merely nods in response. 

Charlie lets go of Nick for a moment, shuffling back along the sofa so he can get into a more comfortable position. Nick pouts at the loss of contact and immediately chases after Charlie, practically throwing himself in between Charlie’s legs and onto his chest. Nick wraps his strong arms around Charlie’s waist and sighs heavily. Charlie’s hand returns to Nick’s head, resuming the comforting motion of his fingers combing through his hair. For the first time, Charlie notices how long it’s gotten, the strands forming an auburn curtain over Nick’s eyes.

They lie there in silence, neither of them feeling the need to speak anymore. As Charlie watches Nick’s breathing even out, he realises that they’ve never slept like this before. Charlie has always been wrapped up in Nick’s arms, which he loves completely, but now that Nick is snuggling into his chest, he can’t help but hope that it happens more in the future.

***

Charlie wakes to Nick sitting up, yawning, which is a bit surprising considering Charlie hadn’t felt tired at all, yet he must’ve fallen asleep at some point. He blinks his eyes open to see Nick staring straight ahead with furrowed brows. 

“Hey,” Charlie says quietly, his voice rough from sleep. “What’s up?”

Nick sighs heavily, slowly sitting up properly and pinching the bridge of his nose before wiping the sleep away from his eyes. He takes a few moments, and Charlie can almost see his brain sort through his thoughts. 

“I want to talk to Isaac again,” Nick finally says. “I want to… listen to what he has to say. I wanna know what the plan is. And I want to find Sahar and Sami and bring them back.” 

A chill of anxiety runs down Charlie’s back. “Wait, what?” he exclaims. “Nick, are you sure? That’s a dangerous mission. You’re still recovering. What if–”

“They’re my family, Charlie,” Nick interrupts sharply, giving him a hard stare. “I can’t leave them behind, especially if I somehow got them into this mess. I have to at least try. I feel better now,” he reassures Charlie, the twinkle of confidence and determination that was once lost now back in his eye. “I know I can do this. I have to do this.” 

Charlie feels his entire body tense slightly at the sudden change in Nick’s tone, and while he doesn’t know how to feel about the sudden switch, he does know there is no way he’s talking Nick out of this. “Okay,” he replies quietly. “Let’s talk to Isaac, then.” 

Nick wordlessly stands up, heading towards the door without giving Charlie a second glance and, for the first time since the beginning of the Games, Charlie feels alone. It reminds him of when they first met, when Nick was still in the mindset of a soldier. It’s not the warm, soft version of Nick that he’s become accustomed to and it makes Charlie feel a little uneasy.

Charlie shakes himself out of his slight moment of panic and follows his boy… Well, Nick. 

Is Nick my boyfriend? This isn’t a normal situation. 

Another day, Charlie. Focus. 

They head back to the same room they were shown earlier. Because of Nick’s determination, he reaches the door before Charlie, but is seemingly frozen; his hand is posed and ready to knock, but he doesn’t make any further moves. 

“Nick?” Charlie asks softly. 

Nick blinks a few times, as if his mind was elsewhere for a moment, and nods once before striking his knuckles against the door. The door opens almost instantly, as if Isaac was expecting them. 

“Boys,” Isaac greets calmly, stepping aside. “Come in.” 

Nick and Charlie follow Isaac over to the table in the middle of the room, which is covered in large documents and blueprints of buildings, and a miniature version of what appears to be the Capitol. Charlie tries to take it all in, to get some idea of what the plan could be, but Isaac speaks. “What can I do for you two?” 

Charlie looks at Nick, expecting him to break out into a monologue, but instead, he’s just glaring at Isaac. 

“Um.” Charlie says cautiously, turning back to Isaac. “We want to know more about whatever you’re planning. We know that there’s a reason you saved us, and why it happened, how it happened – it was just a bit unexpected. But we’ve talked about it, and we decided that we want to help.”

Charlie glances toward Nick, subtly nodding his head forward as if to wordlessly say 'go on’. Nick crosses his arms over his chest and stands tall, glancing at Isaac’s set up. “Setup’s a bit dated, isn’t it? I thought you were the Head Gamemaker.”

Charlie’s eyes flicker closed in annoyance as he exhales deeply. This was Nick’s plan? Come in and antagonise the one person who can help us the most? Charlie looks back at Isaac apologetically.

Isaac’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corner, his eyes meeting Charlie’s. “I’m glad to hear that.” His gaze shifts to Nick. “I was Head Gamemaker for three years, and during that time I learned how…” Isaac hesitates for a moment, as if trying to choose the right word. “Easily technology can become compromised. I would rather put in the work than risk the safety of my people and the integrity of our mission. If I get a paper cut, so be it.”

Charlie glances at Nick, whose brow raises in thought as if he hadn’t considered that. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“We do have one condition though,” Charlie continues before Isaac can say anything else. His voice laced with warning as he looks at Nick.

“Oh?” Isaac tilts his head as he leans against the table. His voice sounds genuinely surprised but Charlie can see a hint of annoyance in his stare, as if Isaac had been dreading this conversation happening. 

He can’t do this without us and he knows it. The thought causes a small burst of confidence to bloom in Charlie’s chest.

Charlie takes a deep breath. “If we help you, you help us find Sahar and Sami.”

“I’ve already found them,” Isaac replies simply. “They were never lost.”

Nick’s arms fall to his side, and he steps forward. “Where are they?” he asks, his aloofness vanishing instantly. “Are they safe? Are they here?”

Isaac holds up a hand, Nick’s questions coming to an abrupt stop. “They’re not here, Nick. Shortly before District Two went on lockdown, I got word from one of my informants that Sahar and Sami were taken to the Capitol by your brother, under President Erevan’s orders.”

Charlie watches the colour leave Nick’s face as he too leans against the table. “What?”

“They’re safe,” Isaac reassures him. “Though it’s only temporary. I wasn’t expecting President Erevan to pull a move like that, but I should’ve seen it coming sooner. I managed to have my informant intervene and take them off David’s hands. They’re currently in a safehouse, but they have no way of leaving until this is over.”

Charlie steps closer to Nick, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him in some way. “We’ll get them back,” he whispers.

“That we will,” Isaac agrees. “I’m in the process of forming a recon team–”

“I want in,” Nick interrupts, his head snapping up immediately.

“Me too,” Charlie adds just as quickly. Isaac pauses for a moment, looking between the two of them before sighing.

“I’ll consider it,” he replies after a moment. “I should warn you though, you’ll have to do some intense training to prepare for this, and this won’t be your only mission. Nick, you’ll probably be okay with it, but with your recent impairment and injuries, you need to be careful. Charlie, I know you’ve been in the Games, but that was child’s play compared to what you’re about to face. If I decide to let you join this mission and either of you are struggling at any point, let me know and I can figure something out. But if I let you go on this mission and notice that either of you begin to fall behind, you’ll be removed from the mission immediately. I do not intend to risk your lives or safety.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem with that while we were in the arena,” Nick mutters under his breath, spinning on his heel and walking back to calm down. 

“I didn’t have a choice. To be quite frank with both of you, I don’t need your help. I could allow you to remain refugees until this either ends with victory or ends with us being blown to bits.” Isaac says firmly. “I don’t have the time to babysit and entertain snide remarks from a little boy who thinks he’s a man because he killed someone,” Isaac snaps towards Nick before locking his gaze on Charlie, “or to give in to the demands of a boy from the Seam who thinks he’s got a leg to stand on because he miraculously managed to survive the Games. But this rebellion needs you two alive.” Isaac’s tone turns soft and his lips press into a straight line. “The people of Panem need you. Because you give them hope. 

“So I’ll consider it, because you two are worth far more to me alive than dead,” Isaac finishes, his tone holding a finality that leaves no room for argument. “Now, if you’re done with demeaning and demanding, you are both dismissed.”

Nick and Charlie both nod, mumbling their thanks before they leave the room. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Nick grabs Charlie’s hand. Charlie instantly turns around, expecting to see an angry and flustered Nick. However, much to Charlie’s surprise, the older boy looks terrified, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Charlie asks immediately.

“W-What if it doesn't work?” Nick whispers. “What if we can’t get them out? Or when we get there it’s too late? What if I lose them for–”

“Nick,” Charlie says sternly, looking into Nick’s petrified eyes.

Nick closes his mouth and his nostrils flare with the panicked breathing he’s obviously trying to contain. 

“Listen to me,” Charlie continues, cupping Nick’s face with his hands. “This is going to work. We’ll train as hard as we can, and we’ll get them out. We’re going to get through this. Together, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Nick replies, his voice still quiet and trembling. “Together.”

With a firm nod and warm smile, Charlie takes Nick’s hand and guides him along the hallway. He somehow manages to navigate the winding and confusing corridors, and they find themselves back at the dining hall where they first gathered earlier on. Charlie expected to see everyone sitting down as it’s not too late. Instead, Otis, Tori and Olly are nowhere to be found; it’s just Tara, Darcy, Nathan and Youssef. 

“Everything okay?” Tara asks as they take a seat. 

Nick’s head immediately falls onto Charlie’s shoulder, and Charlie can’t help but rest his own head on top. “Yeah, I think so,” Charlie answers. “We talked to Isaac again.”

“How did that go?” Darcy asks dryly, glancing up from a notepad she’s currently sketching on.

“Well, after some ‘demeaning and demanding’, as Isaac put it, he said he would consider putting us on the recon team to save Sami and Sahar, as long as we help him.” Charlie feels Nick grab his hand under the table, the other’s thumb starting to trace circles against his skin.

Tara offers them a bittersweet smile. “Believe it or not, the fact he said he’d consider it is a good sign,” she replies. “Normally, if someone asks for something, it’s a flat out‘no’.”

Charlie smiles in thanks. He opens his mouth to ask more about the plan of attack, but a yawn comes out instead. 

“I think that’s a sign we should all head to bed,” Nathan says fondly. “Do you two know where you’ll be sleeping?”

Charlie shakes his head. 

“Charlie, you’re in a room with Tori and Olly, and Nick, you’re in with Otis and I,” Farouk tells them. 

Nick’s thumb stops moving immediately. “Wait, we’re not in the same room?” he says, slowly lifting his head, brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Dr Singh believes it would be more beneficial for you both to sleep separately,” Nathan begins. “You’ve been together for two weeks, relying on each other from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. You need to learn how to be more independent again.” 

Charlie scoffs incredulously. “We are not dependent on each other.”

Farouk raises his eyebrows in an unamused manner as he looks at how close they are sitting. “Clearly.”

Anger flares through Charlie’s body. “We’re not,” he says through gritted teeth. “And even if we were, would that really be such a bad thing? We learned how to work together in that arena. It’s what we’re used to now.”

“And that’s exactly why we want you to try spending nights apart,” Farouk argues. 

“Oh, so you’re all in on this, then?” Charlie retorts, his jaw clenching.

Farouk sighs and scratches his forehead. “There’s nothing to be in on, Charlie. We were advised that it’s for the best. You both need to recover properly, especially if you’re about to head back into the field.”

Charlie huffs and sits back in his seat. While it’s frustrating and extremely unfair, deep down he knows that they’re right. From the moment Nick became his ally, Charlie has felt anxiety the moment they’re not together. He’s constantly worried about Nick’s safety and wellbeing, almost always putting Nick’s needs above his own, and Nick has done the same for him. They can’t take care of each other properly without taking care of themselves first, and that means starting with their individuality again.

At least he’ll have Tori and Olly. That’s probably the one good thing about this arrangement.

“If it helps, you’ll only be a few doors down from each other,” Tara interjects softly. 

Charlie looks at Nick, hesitant blue eyes meeting anxious hazel ones. Charlie tightens his grip on Nick’s hand, as if to say that it might be okay to at least try. They know that they have each other no matter what. This is just an unexpected bump in the road. They’ll see each other throughout the day, just like normal. 

“It’s okay,” Charlie whispers with a slight nod of his head. “We can try, right?” 

Nick pulls his lips into a tight line, quivering slightly. It’s the most anxious Charlie’s ever seen him look, and it breaks his heart. 

Finally, Nick takes a deep breath and nods his head too. “Yeah,” he whispers, just barely getting the word out.

Charlie smiles at him and turns back to Farouk. “Okay, I guess we can try it out.”

Farouk nods once, and Nathan smiles. “Great,” Nathan says. “We can show you to your rooms now, if you’d like?” 

Charlie silently agrees, and as they stand, Nick’s grip on Charlie’s hand somehow tightens even more.

Nathan leads them through many more corridors and into a lift, going down a few levels and through a few doors. The entire time, Nick clings onto Charlie. 

“Right, Nick, you’re in here,” Nathan says, gesturing to the door in front of them. “Charlie, you’re just two doors down. I think your brother and sister are in your room already.”

“Thanks,” Charlie replies quietly. 

“We’ll leave you to say goodnight,” Farouk says. “There are ten minutes left until curfew.”

“Curfew?” Nick asks, speaking for the first time since they were in the food hall. 

“President Henderson created the curfew after we had a security risk when we first opened District Thirteen to the refugees,” Farouk explains. “It’s so that everyone is accounted for, and if something were to occur, it would be much easier to figure out who could have done it.”

“Right,” Nick mumbles. 

A few moments of awkward silence passes before Nathan clears his throat. “Goodnight, boys.” 

As soon as they’re left alone, Nick pulls Charlie into a bone-crushing hug. “I don’t like this,” he mumbles into Charlie’s neck. “I don’t want to be alone, Char.”

Charlie brings a hand to the nape of Nick’s neck and instantly begins to run his fingers through Nick’s hair. “Neither do I,” he whispers. “But we have to try and follow their rules. They saved us. And you’ll have Otis, too.”

“I know.” Nick sighs dejectedly. 

They stand together for a few minutes, holding onto each other tightly as if they’re trying to commit the feeling of their bodies wrapped around one another to their memories. 

“Curfew will begin in two minutes. Please return to your rooms,” a loud, slightly robotic voice booms over the speakers. 

Nick startles in Charlie’s arms, so Charlie squeezes him one last time before reluctantly pulling away. Their hands stay connected between them as their foreheads touch. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Charlie whispers. 

“Yeah,” Nick whispers back.

Charlie guides Nick’s head towards his so that their lips meet for a slow and simple kiss. Nick grabs onto the back of Charlie’s jumper, pushing their bodies closer together. It’s full of deep emotion and need for each other, and it takes Charlie’s breath away. 

They kiss for as long as their lungs allow before separating. With one last smile and one last squeeze of the hand, Charlie walks away. Even though his room is close by, the walk feels like he’s climbing up a mountain. Everything in his body is screaming at him to turn back around and be with Nick, but he pushes it down. He wants his new life here to work, however long it may be for. 

Charlie has a feeling that Nick will find this a lot harder than he will. Guilt begins to bubble in his gut at the fact that he has a family to stay with. Nick does not – at least, not right now. I’ll bring Sahar and Sami back if it’s the last thing I do, Charlie silently promises. 

When he steps into his room, he sees Tori and Olly sitting on one of the beds playing a game of cards. The door shuts with a click, which causes Olly’s head to snap up in his direction. 

“Charlie!” Olly exclaims, his face bright and full of glee. He comes bounding over and crashes into Charlie’s chest. 

“Hey, little mouse,” Charlie chuckles, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “What have you been up to?”

“We’re playing Go Fish!” Olly replies. “Tori found Dad’s old playing cards.” 

Charlie looks at Tori in awe. He hasn’t seen those cards in years. He’s always assumed that they were thrown out or stolen. “How? Where?” Charlie asks. 

Tori shrugs. “When the District Thirteen soldiers came to evacuate us, we were told we had five minutes to gather what we could. I started pulling everything out to decide on what to take. They were at the bottom of the old chest of drawers in Mum and Dad’s room.”

A chill runs down Charlie’s spine. After their mum died, he and Tori seemed to have the same idea as each other – to never step foot inside their parents’ room again. It was too painful for them, and seeing their belongings lying there on the bed, on the tables… They couldn’t face it. 

“You went into their room?” Charlie whispers, tears springing to his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tori replies, her voice a lot more emotional than usual. “I didn’t want to risk leaving without anything important.” 

Charlie and Olly walk over to the bed. He sits next to Tori and gasps as he sees the very cards he played with growing up, still intact. The only difference now is that they’ve turned a weird shade of yellow and they look really tattered. It’s clear that they’ve been gathering dust for years. But it’s okay that they look like that, because they have history. It’s something that can remind them of happier days of them spending time together as a family, before Dad died, before Mum got sick, and before the Games took Charlie. Charlie lets out a quiet sob and engulfs his sister in his arms. They silently cry together, with Olly joining them only a few moments later. He slides in between them and wraps his tiny arms around them both, completing their little family. 

Eventually, Charlie gathers himself and clears his throat. “Right,” he says as he pulls away. “Let’s play some Go Fish.” 

***

Later that night, after many rounds of Go Fish and Snap and a lot of giggling, Olly is fast asleep in his bed, and Tori and Charlie are facing each other in Tori’s bed. 

“What happened?” Tori asks suddenly, interrupting the silence they had fallen into. ”When you went to talk to Isaac, I mean.”

Charlie sighs heavily. “Well, at first it was a bit tense. Nick pinned him up against the wall.” 

“What the fuck?” Tori gapes, the most surprised Charlie’s ever seen her. He can’t help but smile at her reaction. 

“Yeah.” Charlie nods. “I had to talk him out of doing anything stupid. Then he kinda shut down, and we were taken to a private room. We ended up falling asleep, but when we woke up it was like he became a different person. His mindset had completely changed. So, we went to Isaac again and said we would help as long as we can to try and find Nick’s best friend and her brother.” 

Tori inhales deeply and, even in the dark, Charlie sees his sister’s face change from shock, to confusion, then realisation. With the latter, her eyes grow wet and her nostrils flare, as if she’s trying to conceal her feelings.

“Does that mean you’re going to fight again?” she asks, her voice wobbly and barely above a whisper.

Charlie swallows thickly and looks away, almost ashamed. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“But we just got you back.” 

Charlie bites his lower lip to stifle the sob that wants to come out. “I know, but I promise to come back. I kept my promise about Olly, remember?”

“I know, but that’s different,” Tori replies with an edge to her voice. 

“We’ll have actual soldiers this time, though,” Charlie reasons.” People who know how to fight alongside us. And I think we’ll get some training beforehand. I promise you, I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t think I could do it.”

Tori sighs heavily. “Are you sure you’re not just doing it because of Nick?” 

“Tori,” Charlie warns. “Please don’t.”

“Sorry,” she replies immediately. 

“It’s fine.” Charlie shrugs. “I know what you meant. I promise that I’m helping because I want to. I want to end this for good. Helping Nick is just part of it.”

Tori is silent for a few seconds, and Charlie begins to think he’s pissed her off somehow, but much to his surprise, she snakes an arm around him and snuggles into his chest. “Please come back,” she mumbles into his chest.

“I will,” he whispers back, wrapping his own arms around her. “I promise.”

***

God knows how many hours later, Charlie is still awake. It’s well into the night, and both Tori and Olly are sound asleep. Tori has migrated to the other side of the tiny bed, no longer needing the comfort of her brother’s arms around her. Charlie has tried to follow Tori’s breathing, in the hopes that it would help him feel tired, but it didn’t work. He falls onto his back, sighing heavily as he blankly stares up at the ceiling. The four walls he now has to call home are already so claustrophobic and he’s only been in this room for eight hours. 

He’s completely wide awake. Not even a hint of tiredness. 

He’d do anything to be able to go for a run right now. But instead, he’s stuck in this room until the curfew lifts. 

Unless he sneaks out. 

No, I can’t do that. 

Now that the thought is in his head though, it’s incredibly tempting. 

Can I?

The longer he lies here, slowly suffocating, the more restless he will get. 

Fuck it. What will they do, kill me? Imprison me? Scold me like a child again?

He slowly sits up, being careful to not wake Tori, and slides to the end of the bed. His socked feet hit the floor and he silently pushes himself up to standing. He creeps towards the door and opens it without a sound, and gently lets the door shut behind him. As soon as he steps into the corridor, he instantly feels lighter, and he can breathe better. 

It’s darker than he expected so he has to squint as his eyes adjust. The fluorescent blue light is so dim that it’s almost pointless for it to be on. He lets his head rest against the wall for a few moments, and then he hears a faint sound to his left. He turns to see nothing at first, but then he recognises the unmistakable silhouette of Nick coming out of his own room. 

Charlie’s heart flutters, half-relieved and half-excited that he didn’t have to wait until the morning to see him again. Charlie steps towards him, but pauses instantly when it clocks that Nick has his head in his hands. He’s probably not had the chance to look around, to notice Charlie is there. 

Charlie slowly approaches, his fingers nervously pulling at the sleeves of his jumper. “Nick?” he whispers. 

Nick’s head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise. “Charlie?” he whispers back, his voice going up at the end. 

“Hi.” Charlie smiles as he takes a step into Nick’s space. 

Nick is frozen for a few seconds before letting out a heavy sigh of relief. He lunges forward to wrap his arms around Charlie and lifts him in the process. Charlie giggles quietly into the crook of Nick’s neck, his own arms tightly around Nick’s shoulders. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake,” Nick says, slightly out of breath. He sets Charlie down before pulling back slightly, keeping his arms around Charlie’s waist. “What are you doing up?”

Charlie’s hands settle on the back of Nick’s neck as he smiles up at him. “I couldn’t sleep,” he explains. “What about you?” 

Nick’s small smile falters as he looks away. “I… I had a nightmare about the vultures from the arena.”

Charlie’s heart thuds heavily. “Oh,” is all he can say. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Nick shakes his head. “Not right now.” He takes a breath. “I was going to visit my mum.”

“Want me to come with you?” Charlie offers.

“Yeah,” Nick whispers back. He leans in and presses his lips against Charlie’s for three short kisses. The cadence is slow and deliberate, a familiar pattern that reminds him of a three word phrase.

For a moment, Charlie feels hopeful and almost blurts the words out again, but he holds back. Nick still hasn’t mentioned Charlie’s love confession, so it’s probably best to assume that he never heard him in the hospital.

Hand in hand, they begin making their way through the dim hallway, trying their best to retrace the way they were shown earlier. Charlie usually has a good sense of direction, but everything looks different in the dark. As they try to find the lift, he ignores the slight bit of anxiety he feels the longer they walk. He’s also trying to not think about the fact that multiple cameras are probably watching and recording their every move.

Thankfully, they finally come across the lift that still seems to work despite the late hour. 

“Do you remember what floor the medical bay is on?” Nick asks as they step inside. 

“Um… I think it’s level 9,” Charlie replies, going through the entirety of last week as he spent so much time sitting next to Nick’s bed.

Nick doesn’t seem to question it though, since he presses the number without hesitation. The lift doors instantly close with a soft mechanic whirr and they begin their descent. Nick’s grip tightens on Charlie’s hand, so Charlie presses his lips to Nick’s shoulder for a kiss of comfort. 

The lift quickly slows down and they step out into another hallway, and Charlie still isn’t sure if this is the right way or not. Nothing seems familiar at all. 

“Are we going the right way?” Charlie whispers to Nick. He glances up to see Nick’s face twist into slight uncertainty. 

“I think so. Maybe?” Nick replies, sounding just as confused as Charlie is. 

They come to a stop when the corridor splits into two different directions. 

“Oh, come on,” Nick mumbles in frustration. 

A snort leaves Charlie’s nose, and he immediately claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers through a giggle. 

“Why are you laughing?” Nick asks, clearly fighting off a laugh of his own.

“I don’t know,” Charlie replies. “Maybe the fact that we could navigate our way through the Games but can barely get around an underground district. It sounds a bit stupid.” 

Nick chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Okay, let’s go to the right,” he decides. “I’m sure it’s all connected.”

Charlie silently agrees and they set off, not questioning Nick’s logic. As he looks up, he notices that the lights and structure of the corridor are different to the ones they usually walk through. Rather than seamless panels of metal, there are pipes of various sizes jutting out of the ceiling and walls in random places. On the ground, there are a few puddles of what Charlie assumes to be water. It must’ve spilled from somewhere, although looking around, there’s no obvious leak from the pipes. 

It causes a heaviness to form in the pit of his stomach. “Okay, I think we’re definitely lost,” Charlie states quietly. “I don’t recognise anything, and this corridor seems to just go on for ages.”

Nick looks up and down the length of the corridor and scratches the back of his head. “Maybe if we keep going we’ll find something?” 

“Or maybe we should just go back the way we came?” Charlie counteroffers. 

Nick goes to reply, but there’s a sudden hissing sound that seems to be coming from the end of the corridor nearest to them. They look at each other with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, and seem to agree to go towards it, instead of the sensible option of heading back to their rooms. 

The pair slowly approach the hissing sound, which gets louder with every step. Charlie’s eyes roam around the area, looking for a possible source. It seems unfruitful at first, but then his eyes land on a small patch of light glowing through an ajar door. 

“There,” he says, pointing to his discovery. He makes a start to walk closer, but he is tugged back by Nick’s hand. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Nick asks, looking slightly panicked. 

“There’s something over there,” Charlie states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Charlie!” Nick whisper-shouts. Charlie ignores him though, and his curiosity causes their hands to separate. He reaches the wall, and quickly realises that it’s actually a very well concealed door that's somehow been left unlocked. 

Security in 13 is so tight. How did someone forget to lock a concealed door?

Shoving that thought to one side, he lightly pushes the door further open. The light brightens, causing him to squint. He blinks a few times as he forces himself to look into the room. Finally, his eyes adjust, and nothing could have ever prepared him for what he’s staring at. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps, his jaw dropping open. 

At the door in front of Charlie, there are a set of stairs that lead down to what can only be described as paradise. The entire floor is covered in bright green grass with small patches of various kinds of flowers. The further into the room they go, the bigger the flower bushes become, some of them even shaped into the outline of a path. Then, in the very centre, stands one of the biggest trees Charlie’s ever seen. It’s strong and healthy, almost as tall as it is wide, and the canopy of leaves cast a faint shadow over the surrounding ground beneath it. 

“Nick, you have to see this,” Charlie says in awe. 

“What is it?” Nick asks, still standing back.

“Just come!” 

Nick sighs before taking a few steps closer, and then he gasps. “Oh my god. That’s a tree.” 

Charlie doesn’t know whether to laugh at Nick’s dimness or worry that he’s lost a few brain cells in the Games. 

“Let’s check it out,” Charlie says, reaching behind to grab Nick’s hand again. As soon as their fingers intertwine, Charlie surges forward down the stairs, causing Nick to yelp in surprise as he follows. 

“How the hell is there a garden this far down?” Nick asks. 

“They must’ve installed LED lights and hydroponic systems in here,” Charlie mumbles as he slowly turns around in a circle. His eyes eventually land on Nick, who just looks confused. 

“Sorry, translation?” Nick replies.

Charlie smiles, stifling a laugh. “Basically, you can grow all sorts of greenery and vegetation underground or inside tunnels with a system that recycles water. Then the lights supply just enough light and warmth for everything to grow properly. It’s pretty genius.” 

“How do you know all this?” Nick gapes at him. 

“My dad.” Charlie shrugs. “District Three, remember? He helped develop some of this technology. I remember him mentioning a few things.”

“I almost forgot how smart you are,” Nick says fondly, adoration sparkling in his eyes. 

Charlie blushes instantly and looks away. His eyes land on the tree again, like there is something drawing him to it. He takes a few steps closer as he takes in the details. The bark is a greyish-brown colour and the leaves are more shaped like needles. Charlie’s eyebrows come together in thought – the details seem familiar. He ducks under a few branches that have grown at lower angles, giving him an opportunity to look at the tree from new angles. 

That’s when he sees the cone of blue-black berries in between the leaves, and it hits him. 

This is a juniper tree. 

An involuntary tear falls from the corner of his eye and he uses the back of his hand to quickly wipe it away, but Nick has already noticed. 

“What’s wrong?” Nick comes to stand next to him, taking his hand gently and intertwining their fingers. 

“It’s a juniper tree,” Charlie whispers, his voice catching in his throat. He slowly turns to look at Nick, whose eyes are tearful as well. Charlie breathes out a heavy breath and Nick pulls him into his chest. They stand there, clinging onto each other, in silence as they let their tears fall. 

“I wish I could’ve saved her,” Charlie continues with a sniff. “I wish she could’ve seen this. She didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve any of it.” 

“I know,” Nick mumbles into the crown of his head. “I didn’t know her like you did, but I just know she was the sweetest girl.” 

For some reason, this makes Charlie sob harder. He presses his face into Nick’s chest, as everything he has managed to push away and ignore suddenly comes up to the surface. Nick holds onto him, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back and pressing kisses to the top of his head. The soothing actions aid Charlie as he regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths of air to fill his lungs and calm his mind, slightly.

“I, um…” Nick takes a deep breath. “I saw you with her, when she died. I wanted nothing more to turn back time and stop Jenna from throwing that fucking spear. I hate that I stood by and did nothing. So, um… After you left her, I went over and moved her onto the ground and laid out some flowers around her, to make it look like she was sleeping. Back in Two, we normally sprinkle bread crumbs over the body to provide them food on their journey in the afterlife but I didn’t have any on hand so… I figured flowers were the next best thing.”

Charlie gasps softly, finally pulling his head back to stare up at the older boy. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

Nick smiles down at him sadly, using a finger to gently swipe a few stray curls behind his ear. He lets his hand rest on the side of Charlie’s neck as he traces a random pattern against the soft skin beneath his touch.

“I saw you do that, y’know,” Charlie mumbles, looking back at the tree. “I turned around to say goodbye one last time, but then I saw you pick her up. I think that was one of the first moments I started to realise that you weren’t like the Careers.” 

Nick bites down on his lower lip, barely hiding the tremble as a few tears fall down his cheeks again. “I’m really glad I met you,” he whispers. “Even if it is a fucked up situation.” 

Charlie lets out a wet laugh, and lets his head fall against Nick’s chest again. They stand like that for a few moments. Charlie lets himself feel his array of emotions for once: the grief for Juniper and the life she could have lived, the love he has for Nick, the anger towards the Capitol, and the government for creating the world they live in today.

“Wanna sit down?” Nick asks eventually. 

Charlie nods, and they take the final few steps towards the bark of the juniper tree and sit on a relatively flat patch of grass. From their position, Charlie can see that the flowers are even decorating the walls, mixed in with wild vines that somehow don’t go inside the air vents that they’re growing next to. He takes a deep breath and rests his head on Nick’s shoulder. If he closes his eyes, he could maybe pretend that they’re sitting against his favourite tree back in 12, far away from the clamour and business of the district centre. 

Beneath his head, Charlie feels Nick shuffle a little, accidentally causing Charlie’s head to slip off his shoulder. Charlie looks up to see Nick slightly leaning over to the side, and is about to ask him what he’s doing when Nick quietly whispers a triumphant ‘yes’ before sitting back.

In between Nick’s index and middle fingers, is a daisy flower. 

“For you,” Nick says softly with a lopsided smile as he holds it out to Charlie. 

Charlie giggles softly. “You’re a dork.” 

“Your dork, though,” Nick replies smoothly. 

Charlie’s entire body flushes warm as he fights back a grin – this is perhaps the first time Charlie has ever been properly rendered speechless. 

Where the fuck did Nick pull that line from?

As they stare into each other’s eyes, Nick reaches forward and tucks the stem of the daisy behind Charlie’s ear. After making sure it won’t fall, his finger falls to the nearest curl and wraps it around his finger. “I love your hair,” Nick says in a low voice. 

Charlie huffs out a laugh and raises an eyebrow. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious!” Nick insists. “I love your hair so much. I love your dimples. I love your eyes. I love…” 

Charlie’s breath hitches. 

Nick licks his lips and takes in a breath through his nose. 

“I love you,” Nick finally whispers. 

Charlie can’t help the grin that breaks out on his face. “I love you, too,” he giggles as he crashes into Nick and wraps his arms around Nick’s neck. 

“Y’know,” Nick mumbles into Charlie’s neck after a few moments. Charlie can feel Nick’s lips smile against his skin. “I heard you in the hospital.” 

Charlie’s eyes fly wide open and his heart skips a beat. “What?” he squeaks. “When?”

Nick chuckles softly and pulls back, an amused smirk on his lips. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you called yourself crazy and pathetic at one point.” 

“Oh my god,” Charlie groans in embarrassment. He hides his face in his hands and he immediately feels Nick trying to pull them back down. “That’s so embarrassing!”

“Char,” Nick laughs as he rubs his thumbs over Charlie’s knuckles. “Why are you embarrassed?” 

“Because all this time I’ve been thinking that you had no idea,” Charlie whines. 

“I heard everything you said,” Nick says. 

Charlie groans again. “Nick, stop!” 

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Nick giggles. “You look cute when you’re all flustered.” 

Charlie glares at him, fighting a smile of his own. “Shut up,” he mumbles. 

“I’m serious,” Nick insists. His cheeky grin slowly falls into a relaxed smile, one of pure affection. “I’m glad you said all that though, because if you didn’t, it probably would’ve taken me a lot longer to wake up.” 

Charlie gasps softly. “What?”

“You’re the reason I woke up,” Nick explains. “I could hear everything. I was replying to you in my head, and when you said that you loved me, and wanted to kiss me… That gave me the strength to open my eyes… Well, eye,” he chuckles softly. “But… in a way, you saved me. You’ve saved me so many times, actually. You helped me stay true to myself in that arena. So, when you said that you love me, I knew I needed to wake up so I could tell you too.” 

Fresh tears form in Charlie’s eyes, and he releases a heavy breath. “I–” Charlie stammers, his mouth opening and closing a few times, unsure of what to say. So instead, he just surges forward and crashes his lips into Nick’s. 

Nick immediately responds by cupping Charlie’s jaw with both hands. It’s slow but passionate, and in it Charlie can feel every ounce of love Nick has for him. In return, his hands find their way to the hem of Nick’s top, pulling their bodies closer to each other. Charlie tilts his head, deepening the kiss even further as his hands snake around Nick’s back. His fingers dig into Nick’s skin slightly, causing Nick to whimper a little. Charlie gasps at the reaction and tries to push Nick further into his body, but he ends up falling onto his back. 

Luckily, Nick puts his hand out just in time, breaking the impact. The new position causes them both to gasp into each other’s mouth. Their legs are intertwined, with their chests pressing against each other. Nick’s hot breath fans against Charlie’s cheek, before Nick slowly presses his lips to Charlie’s jaw.

Charlie’s breath hitches as Nick leaves a wet trail against his jaw and down his neck. He digs his fingers into the muscles of Nick’s back again, which causes Nick to graze his teeth against Charlie’s skin. A moan falls past Charlie's lips, a lot louder than he expected. He feels his body flush warm with embarrassment, and he feels Nick smile into his neck before licking over the area of skin he just nipped at. 

All embarrassment immediately disappears as a new wave of intense pleasure overcomes him.

Charlie isn’t sure how Nick knows what to do, considering they’re each other’s first kiss, but he isn’t complaining because it feels incredible. He never thought he would experience something like this. He never even allowed himself to hope or dream for, yet here he is – somewhere deep inside District 13, with the boy from the balcony, kissing each other senseless. 

A giggle bubbles out of Charlie, almost in disbelief. He tries to stifle it with his hand but it does nothing to stop it. He feels Nick’s body start to shake as he begins to giggle as well. 

Soon enough, they’re both in a fit of giggles, holding onto each other. Nick lets his body fall down next to Charlie, their chests heaving as they fight for air. 

Charlie opens his eyes and stares up at the canopy of the juniper tree, and his laughter dies down. Nick must notice the sudden change, because out of the corner of his eye, Charlie sees him hold himself up on his elbow.

“You okay?” Nick asks softly. He brings his hand up to Charlie’s face, gently tracing along his jaw and eventually tucking a few curls behind his ear. 

“Yeah,” Charlie breathes out. “It’s just… I wish we could stay here forever. In this secret garden, hidden away from the rest of the world.” 

“I know, me too,” Nick replies with a sad smile. 

Charlie turns his head to look at Nick, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “At least we have the rest of the night.”

Nick smiles widely. “And the rest of our lives.” 

“I can’t wait to have forever with you.”