The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader

13 | The Rooftop

"Any final advice, ya shank?" Newt asks Minho after the replay of the interviews.

"Yep," Minho answers. "Don't go into the Cornucopia. Look for a water source. And run like your life depends on it. Because it does."

Newt and Minho embrace in a short hug, and when they let go, Minho wraps his arms around me while Newt looks on, with a certain look in his eye I can't place. Minho lifts me up in the air and spins me around until Newt clears his throat, glares at Minho and tells him, "That's bloody enough."

Ava kisses me on the cheek, and then moves over to Newt. With tears in her eyes, she wishes us good luck. She thanks us for being amazing tributes and rushes out of the room into her own. Minho shrugs at us and gives us both a half-smirk.

"Love ya, shanks," Minho says sarcastically. "Good luck out there, both of you slintheads."

"Thanks, Minho," Newt and I say at the same time as he flashes us a final smirk and exits the room, too. I'm not sure, but I think I see tears in the muscular victor's eyes. Thomas and Brenda leave and wave silently. We'll see them both tomorrow in preparation for the Games, anyway. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve as I watch them go. Newt notices and turns to me.

"Hey, it's okay, love," he says, which only makes me cry harder. What if he's dead in a few weeks? Nothing but a corpse, preserved in the Capitol for eternity? I couldn't bear it. "Let's go. I'll show you the rooftop and we'll drink mint tea and pretend we're back in Twelve," he says and I nod in agreement. He grabs my hand and leads me along towards his room. Dragging me inside, he orders four mugs of mint tea, two each. I grab the platter the cups are on, in case he drops it, and follow him towards the steps that lead to the roof.

The roof is surrounded by a large force field, Newt tells me, and leads me to a garden with small plants and trees in ceramic pots. There are hundreds of tinkling wind chimes and I set the platter down in the very centre. I take a seat on a wooden bench and Newt sits beside me, only a centimetre away. He passes me a mug of mint tea and I take small sips of the hot liquid.

"Love?" Newt asks after only a few seconds.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think our families are doing right now?"

I look at the lights visible all over the Capitol and try to imagine District Twelve beyond them. I imagine Chuck and Father sitting at the kitchen table, or else lying in bed. I imagine Newt's sister worrying about him, and his parents stressing, and it takes me a while to answer his question.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "Thinking about us. My brother's probably drinking mint tea, too, and worrying about us."

"Yeah," Newt agrees softly. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"What's funny?"

"That I wouldn't have ever even bloody spoken to you if it weren't for the fact we're going to be locked in an arena tomorrow to kill other kids."

"Funny. And sad," I agree. Newt wraps his arm around me in a hug, and we sit there for a while in silence, both of us finishing off both our mugs of mint tea.

"Let's go back to my room, love," Newt says suddenly, and I nod my head in agreement.

"Yeah, but I'll have to go back to my room for a shower first," I tell him.

"Nah, you can use mine," he says as we stand up to head inside.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm bloody sure," he confirms, and I grin when we reach the door to his room. He swings it open and leads me to the shower, which is an exact replica of mine. Fluffy towels hang on the walls and I step inside. I turn around to see Newt still standing there. I look at him and he shakes his head abruptly. He chuckles awkwardly and runs his fingers through his messy blond hair.

"Yeah, I'll just be...." his voice trails off and he leaves, shutting the shower door behind him. I take my dress off, and the shoes, and spend twenty minutes washing the makeup off my face and the patterns off my arms. I use about forty different soaps to get the dye out of my hair, and by the time I step out of the shower, I smell of hundreds of different soaps. Pressing the button to dry myself off in only a few seconds, I reach for a towel before I realise that I don't have any clothes in the shower with me.

"Uh, Newt?" I call.

"Yes, love?" he calls back, his voice slightly muffled through the door.

"Can you, uh, get me some clothes?"

"Sure thing," is the reply, and I can hear the laughter in his voice. The door opens a crack, and a pair of white cotton pants and a black tank top are shoved in.

"Thanks!" I say, and a minute later, I'm dressed. Breathing in the scent of the clothes, I smell Newt; pine needles, mint, and dirt. I step out of the shower and Newt jumps up off the bed.

"Took you bloody long enough," he says, and I punch him lightly on the arm before he hops in the shower.

Five minutes later, he's dressed in a grey shirt and green pants, his hair flopping over his forehead messily.

"That was quick," I tell him, and he looks at me like I'm an alien.

"For you, maybe," he replies, and I punch him softly on the arm again. He falls back onto his bed and I flop down alongside him. He pulls the covers over us and I turn to face him, my head resting on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat against my cheek.

•••

"Y/n!" I hear whispered in my ear. I jump up quickly to see Thomas standing there.

"Don't wake Newt," I protest, and he rolls his eyes.

"Brenda'll wake him up in a minute, anyway," Thomas says, but doesn't complain as I try and get out of the bed as silently as possible. I hesitate as my bare feet hit the ground, and I turn around to face Newt again. Bending over the bed, I press my lips to his forehead.

"Good luck, ya shank," I tell him, tears threatening to spill, but I don't let them. Instead, I turn away as quietly as possible. I love you, I think, but I don't say it.

Thomas leads me onto the roof, where a hovercraft appears in thin air to take me away. A ladder drops down and as I touch it, I'm frozen in place with an electric current. A man comes towards me and presses the tip of a syringe into my forearm.

My tracker. Now they'll know where I am every second of every single day in the arena. An Avox leads Thomas and I into a separate room where a large breakfast has been laid out for just the two of us. The table seems empty without Newt here to keep me company. Sighing, I pull up a chair and try to cram in as much food as possible, without talking to Thomas.

After half an hour of breakfast, the windows black out, and Thomas and I are called out to go down to the ladder again, but now it leads to a room underneath the arena which will transport me there.

I shower and brush my teeth until Thomas tells me to get out and dress. He holds my tribute outfit, which is what everyone in the arena will be wearing for their death, except one, the victor.

Thomas helps me dress in the outfit, which is simplistic and similar to what I've been wearing for training, which relieves me. I dress in a long sleeved black shirt, tan-coloured pants and a long sleeved, dark green jacket. The shoes are simple brown leather combat boots which I slip on with ease. Lastly, Thomas pulls out my bronze hair ribbon from his pocket, and helps me tie my hair in a bun with it.

"Some judges didn't want you to wear this," he says conversationally. "Said you could strangle someone with it, but, they let you have it eventually." I smile weakly and Thomas offers me a chair. I order a mug of mint tea, which I manage to sip half of before deciding to sip water instead. Thomas murmurs encouraging things to me until a female voice rings out across the room, announcing that it's time for launch. Thomas gives me a light kiss on the cheek, and it feels almost brotherly. Still, Newt might be jealous if he saw it. Thinking of Newt calms me as I enter the glass cylinder. I clasp onto Thomas' hand until the cylinder shuts and begins to rise. I'm in darkness for twenty seconds or so until a bright light floods through.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Hunger Games begin!"