Firecracker: The 99th Games Book One

Train Rides, Districts 4-6

It figured Lorenzo barely spoke to either of his sons after they were both reaped. Piero was honestly impressed by how little Marco emoted as they faced their goodbyes and loaded onto the train.

It was nearly impossible to tear himself away from his mother and Luciana, but it had to be done. Now that they were approaching their third hour on the train, Piero found himself wondering where on earth Marco had wandered off to.

...There's no way he's okay right now.

Worried, Piero moved through the train until he was at Marco's room, knocking lightly on the door. "Marco?"

There was no response. Piero pulled the door open, stepping into the room. The misshapen lump on the bed was trembling, quiet sobs sounding from somewhere nearby. Wincing, Piero went to sit on the bed next to his brother, pulling the sheets away from his face. Marco was silent aside from his soft crying, expression strangely empty. Piero stroked his hair away from his face.

"Hey, kiddo," he murmured. "You're okay. I'm right here."

Sniffling, Marco sat up after a second and leaned into Piero's shoulder instead. Piero moved a hand to stroke his hair, fingers shaking.

"You're gonna be okay," Piero whispered. "I promise. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Marco sniffled again. "...It's okay," he said, voice breaking. "We've...been training for this our whole lives. I-it...was going to happen s-sooner or later."

"But it shouldn't have happened now," Piero whispered. "You're not ready."

Marco didn't respond.

"I'll protect you until we can get out of here," Piero assured. "Okay? Just stay with me and we'll figure this out."

"You know we can't both go home."

Piero winced, caught off-guard both by the low, drained tone of Marco's voice and the bluntness of the statement. This time, he was the one with no response.

"Only one Victor per Games," Marco muttered. "They made an exception once, but it won't happen again. Even if it is the two of us at the end...only one of us can go home."

Piero took a deep breath. "...I know," he said quietly. "I'm already prepared for that. I know how to handle it, okay? I'm sending you home."

Marco sat up slightly, face contorting. "Please tell me you don't mean what I think you mean..."

Piero shifted. "...I'm prepared to do what it takes, Marco. I said I'm sending you home."

Marco grabbed his hand, straightening up. "No! I'm not letting you kill yourself for me!"

"What else am I supposed to do, huh?!" Piero shot back, hating the distraught tone Marco had. "I have to make sure you can make it out of there! I'm not gonna lose you just so I can go home and live in a cushy house with Dad!"

"But you expect me to lose you?!" Marco snapped. "How is that fair?! W-were you even going to give me a choice in this, o-or just disappear one day and expect me to be okay with never seeing you again?!"

"I'm going to do whatever I have to do to keep you safe!" Piero insisted, desperately, gripping Marco's hand. "I'm the older brother! It's my job to protect you! If it means not giving you a choice, then yeah, I'm not giving you a choice!"

Marco opened his mouth to protest, then slowly closed it, the emptiness returning to his eyes. His gaze flickered down to the floor, a certain bitterness dyeing his voice when he spoke again. "...Dad would prefer if you make it back, you know."