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(M/N) remained at the window long after the woods had swallowed up the last glimpse of his house. This time he didn't even have the slightest hope of returning. Before his first Games, he promised Eri he would do everything he could to win, and now he'd sworn to himself to do all he could to keep Katsuki alive. He would never reverse this journey again.
He'd actually figured out what he wanted his last words to his loved ones to be. How best to close and lock the doors and leave them sad but safely behind. And now the Capitol had stolen that as well.
"We'll write letters, (M/N)," Katsuki said from behind him. "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Shota will deliver them for us if... they need to be delivered."
(M/N) nodded and went to his room. He sat on the bed, knowing he would never write those letters. They would be like the speech he tried to write to honour Wendy and Shoji in District 11. Things seemed clear in his head and even when he talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses and a stroke of Eri's hair, a caress of Shoto's face. They couldn't be delivered with a wooden box containing his cold, stiff body.
Too heartsick to cry, all (M/N) wanted was to curl up on the bed and sleep until they arrived in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But he had a mission. No, it was more than a mission. It was his dying wish. Keep Katsuki alive. And as unlikely as it seemed that he could achieve that in the face of the Capitol's anger, it was important that he was at the top of his game. This couldn't happen if he was mourning everyone he loved back home.
Let them go, (M/N) told himself. Say goodbye and forget them. He did his best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside him, locking the doors against their return.
By the time Emi knocked on his door to call him to dinner, he was empty. But the lightness wasn't entirely unwelcome.
The meal was subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there were long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. Those little birds filled with orange sauce, with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate custard dotted with cherries.
Katsuki and Emi made occasional attempts at conversations that quickly died out.
"What's with the gold hair?" Katsuki questioned.
"I had it especially done to match (M/N)'s pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Shota a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," Emi said.
Evidently, Emi didn't know that (M/N)'s mockingjay pin was now a symbol used by the rebels. At least in District 8. In the Capitol, the mockingjay was still a fun reminder of an especially exciting Hunger Games. What else could it be? Real rebels don't put a secret symbol on something as durable as jewellery. They put it on a wafer of bread that can be eaten in a second if necessary.
"You don't say," Shota said, though his voice lacked the usual sarcasm it normally held. He wasn't drinking, but (M/N) could tell he wanted to. Emi had them take her own wine away when she saw the effort he was making, but he was in a miserable state. If he were the tribute, he would have owed Katsuki nothing and could have been as drunk as he liked. Now it was going to take all he had to keep Katsuki alive in an arena full of his old friends, and he'd probably fail.
"Maybe we could get you a wig, too," (M/N) said in an attempt at lighting the mood. Shota just shot him a look that said to leave him alone, and they all ate their custard in silence.
"Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" Emi said, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin.
Katsuki went off to retrieve his notebook on the remaining living victors, and they gathered in the compartment with the television to see who their competition would be in the arena. They were all in place as the anthem began to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts began.
In the history of the Games, there had been seventy-five victors. Fifty-nine were still alive. (M/N) recognised many of their faces, either from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games or from their recent viewing of the victors' tapes. Some were so old or wasted by illness, drugs or drinks that he couldn't place them. As he expected, the pools of Career tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 were the largest. But every district had managed to scrape up at least two tributes.
The reapings went by quickly. Katsuki studiously put stars by the names of the chosen tributes in his notebook. Shota watched, his face devoid of emotion, as friends of his stepped up to take the stage. Emi made hushed, distressed comments about some of the tributes she had met before.
For (M/N)'s part, he tried to make some mental record of the other tributes, but like the previous year, only a few really stuck in his head. There was the classically beautiful brother and sister from District 1 who were victors in consecutive years when (M/N) was little. A volunteer from District 2 who had to be at least forty and apparently couldn't wait to get back in the arena. Denki, the handsome blonde-haired guy from District 4 who was crowned eight years ago at the age of fourteen. A young woman with black hair was also called from 4, but she was quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needed a cane to walk to the stage. Then there was Neito Monoma from District 7, who won a few years back by pretending he was weak. Kurose, a woman from 8 who looked to be around thirty had to detach herself from the three kids who ran up to cling to her. Yamada, a man from 11 who (M/N) knew was one of Shota's friends, was also in.
(M/N) was called. Then Shota. Then Katsuki volunteered. One of the announcers actually got really teary because it seemed the odds would never be in their favour, the star-crossed lovers of District 12. Then she pulled herself together to say she was sure that "these will be the best Games ever!"
Shota left the compartment without a word, and Emi, after making a few unconnected comments about this tribute or that, bid them goodnight. (M/N) just sat there watching Katsuki rip the pages of the victors who weren't picked.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" he said.
Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you, (M/N) thought. They were sure to be dreadful tonight. But he could hardly ask Katsuki to come sleep with him. They had barely touched since that night Shoto was whipped. "What are you going to do?" (M/N) asked.
"Just review my notes for a while. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. But I'll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, (M/N)," he said.
So (M/N) left for bed and, sure enough, within a few hours he awoke from more nightmares. He knew he was screaming, but nobody came. Not Katsuki, not even one of the Capitol attendants. He pulled on a robe and tried to calm the goosebumps crawling over his body. Staying in his compartment was impossible, so he decided to go find someone to make him tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Shota was still up. Surely he wasn't asleep.
(M/N) ordered warm milk, the most calming thing he could think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, (M/N) went in and found Katsuki. Beside him on the sofa was the box Emi sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. (M/N) recognised the episode in which the guy from District 2 became victor.
Katsuki rose and flipped off the tape when he saw (M/N). "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not for long," (M/N) said. He pulled the robe more securely around him as he thought back on his nightmares.
"Want to talk about it?" Katsuki asked. Sometimes that could help, but (M/N) just shook his head.
When Katsuki held out his arms, (M/N) walked straight into them. It was the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that the blonde had offered him any affection. He'd been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, insisting Shota and (M/N) run faster, eat more, and know their enemies better. Lover? Not even close. He abandoned any pretence of even being (M/N)'s friend.
(M/N) wrapped his arms around Katsuki's neck before he could order him to do push-ups or something similar. Instead he pulled (M/N) close and buried his face in his hair. Warmth radiated through (M/N)'s body from the spot where Katsuki's lips just touched his neck, slowly spreading through the rest of him. It felt so good, so impossibly good, that (M/N) knew he would not be the first to let go.
And why should he? He said goodbye to Shoto. He'd never see him again, that was for certain. Nothing he did now could hurt Shoto. He wouldn't see it or he'd think (M/N) was acting for the cameras. That, at least, was one weight of (M/N)'s shoulders.
The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk was what broke them apart. He set a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on the table. "I brought an extra cup," he said.
"Thanks," (M/N) said.
"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he added. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just gave his head a slight shake and backed out of the room.
"What's with him?" (M/N) said.
"Probably feels bad for us," Katsuki said.
"Right," (M/N) said, pouring the milk.
"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," Katsuki said. "Or the other Victors. They get attached to their champions."
"I'm guessing they'll get over it once the blood starts flowing," (M/N) said indifferently. If there was one thing he didn't have time for, it was worrying about how the Quarter Quell would affect the mood in the Capitol. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?"
"Not really. Just skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques," Katsuki said.
"Who's next?" (M/N) asked.
Katsuki held up a tape that was labelled with a fifty. The Second Quarter Quell.
"You've watched this one before haven't you?" Katsuki said.
"Yeah, I'm guessing you haven't," (M/N) said.
Katsuki shook his head. "No. I was putting it off till after Shota was gone because I knew he wouldn't want to watch it. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much."
He put the tape on. "Since it's the only Quell we have here it's the best thing we can learn from anyway."
(M/N) leaned against Katsuki when he sat back down, drinking his milk. (M/N) had already seen everything, but had a refresher when Nemuri's name was called. "She was my mother's friend."
"I think that's your mother right there," Katsuki said. (M/N) looked at the footage as the camera panned to find Nemuri in the crowd. As she moved towards the stage, (M/N) caught a glimpse of his mother at his age, holding Nemuri's hand as she walked past. He didn't notice that the first time.
The rest of the Games went by in a blur. Katsuki took notes of things here and there while (M/N) just stared at the screen, not really paying attention.
"That force field at the bottom of the cliff, it was like the one on the roof of the Training Centre. The one that throws you back if you try to jump off and commit suicide. Shota found a way to turn it into a weapon," Katsuki said when the tape was finished.
"Not just against the other tributes, but the Capitol, too," (M/N) said. "You know they didn't expect that to happen. It wasn't meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that he figured it out. I bet they had a good time trying to spin that one. Bet that's why I don't remember seeing it on television. It's almost as bad as us and the berries."
(M/N) couldn't help laughing, really laughing, for the first time in months. Katsuki just shook his head like (M/N) had lost his mind - and maybe he had, a little.
"Almost, but not quite," Shota said from behind them. (M/N) whipped around, thinking he would be angry at them for watching his Games, but he just smirked and took a swig from a bottle of wine. So much for sobriety. (M/N) should have been upset he was drinking again, but he was preoccupied with another feeling.
He'd spent all these weeks getting to know who his competitors were, without even thinking about who his teammates were. Now a new kind of confidence was lighting up inside him, because he felt like he finally understood Shota and who he was. And surely, two people who had caused the Capitol so much trouble could think of a way to get Katsuki home alive.
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