The Fight || Larry Stylinson

.01 tributes

"I volunteer as tribute!" a young, blue-eyed boy yells.

Gasps erupt from the people in his district. This boy was seventeen, still too young to volunteer. All of District Two knew and understood that. 

How come he didn't?

The speaker gives a confused smile, "we seem to have a volunteer." 

Some boos erupt from the eighteen-year-olds, knowing that it was supposed to be their year to volunteer, but the majority of them just silently glare. Despite his district's reaction, the boy pridefully walks onto the stage, enjoying the spotlight.

"Name?" the speaker asks.

"Louis Tomlinson," he says.

"Well, please shake hands."

Louis reaches his hand out towards Piper, a fellow eighteen-year-old who also looked mad at him. She takes Louis' hand in her own and squeezes it until she sees a sign of discomfort on his face. 

"Very good! Best of luck to both of you, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The district cheers loudly for their tributes. Though one was younger, most people from two could quickly oversee that. As long as he brought glory to their district, they didn't mind.

And that was what Louis planned on doing.

However, it was a quite different story many districts away.

Around this time every year, the flowers began to grow in the meadow. They would blossom into beautiful pink, yellow, and purple creations. With their new life, they brought bees and butterflies, making the world seem nice.

Making the world seem peaceful.

Harry only wishes that his reality was as peaceful as the flowers in the meadow or the birds in the bright blue sky. 

They were free, and he was trapped.

The flowers were a sad and uneasy reminder to Harry. They signaled the time of the reaping- a time of death. Harry tries his best to be positive during such a time, but even the flowers didn't bring him the happiness he needs.

"Hey Harry," Gemma says softly walking up to Harry in the meadow. 

Every reaping morning Harry makes sure to visit the meadow. He's been doing it since he was twelve. He doesn't have a particular reason for doing so, but it brought him an odd sense of calmness.

Maybe he was a little superstitious.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, laying down beside him. 

Harry looks to Gemma and sighs. "I'm never feeling the greatest on reaping day."

"Mhm me too," Gemma mumbles lazily. She grabs Harry's hand and squeezes it tight. "It's my last time, can't wait to get this over with."

Harry squeezes her hand back. "You'll be fine, we all will be," he says.

"I can only hope."

Harry just nods, not knowing how to respond. He couldn't promise her it would be fine because you never knew with the games.

"We should get back and get ready before mom worries, yeah?" Gemma suggests, sitting up and taking one last look at her surroundings.

"Yeah," Harry agrees sitting up shortly after.

Gemma and Harry slowly walk home hand in hand, not wanting to make it home as they didn't want to face the reality of the day so soon.

Unfortunately, they eventually make it to their house. They stop briefly before opening the door, just giving each other a reassuring look. They didn't need words.

As soon as they take foot in the house, their mom smothers them. "You guys take so long up there, worry me sick!" she says nervously. "I think you're gonna run away one of these days."