Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One: The Fawn and The Fox

It’s the last one.

That’s all Jeongin can think the day of the Reaping. It’s the last one. The last one he’ll have to participate in, the last of his tiny little family that will be eligible, the last day that hearing his name will be the most devastating outcome.

This is the last Hunger Games that Yang Jeongin is eligible for. After this, he’ll be 19, and he’ll be done. He’s the last of their family to age out of the games. And he’s ecstatic.

The 25th Annual Hunger Games have a twist. The people in town must vote for their tributes.

Chan and Minho have almost convinced him that he won’t be the one picked. Why would he be?

He’s fragile. Gentle. He cries when he steps on a beetle, cries when one of the cows has to be sent to slaughter. District 10 will want to send someone strong, someone capable, someone who has a chance of coming back.

He’s known throughout town, of course- all of them are. The strange family of District 10 that came from nothing- eight boys who somehow found each other and have been a family ever since.

Seungmin aged out last year. And now it’s Jeongin’s turn. He’ll finally be done standing in the square each year and praying to God that his name isn’t called.

The other boys work now. Jeongin’s the only one still in school- if you can even call it that. He goes to a classroom every day and does little to nothing. But that’s okay.

He’s always had a hard time with the work in District 10. Killing livestock has never been something he was good at. Once he’s finally done with school, he hopes to help Felix and Jisung in one of the local shops in town so he won’t have to actively kill anything.

He hates killing things.

He hates being from 10. He hates everything about this stupid district.

But he loves his brothers.

Bang Chan wakes up right after him. After Jeongin’s already been sitting in the kitchen for five minutes contemplating how hard it would be to just skip this year.

He says nothing. He just gets to work on breakfast.

Eggs, toast, and bacon. They’d saved up for weeks to have something solid to put in Jeongin’s stomach the day of the Reaping.

Chan puts it in front of him while pulling his head in and gently pressing a kiss to the top of it.

“Eat. You need it- you’re skin and bones as is, Innie,” he says gently. He refuses to address the elephant in the room.

Jeongin does as he’s told- he’s always been good at that.

He eats slowly, but he eats. The dead pigs he’s scarfing down make him sick to his stomach, but he needs some kind of protein if he’s going to stand in the square today. And he has to.

The others wake up in waves. Felix and Seungmin- the two that room with Jeongin- wake up next. Then Jisung and Minho who have been spending nights together since Jisung aged out of the Reaping. Then Hyunjin and Changbin, who room (unfortunately for him) with Bang Chan. All of them have an awful somber air about them, but they all do the same as Bang Chan:

Don’t talk about it. Don’t acknowledge it.

If they acknowledge it, it might happen. And if it happens, no one will be able to get through this day.

Minho is quick to sit next to Jeongin: offering him more food, holding his hand, hugging him tight. Minho was the one to find Jeongin that night.

The night his parents died. The night he was left alone. The night he became one of “those boys.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Minho whispered, pressing his own lips to Jeongin’s temple. “You’re going to go to the Reaping, and you’ll come home when your name isn’t called, and we’ll have lunch. We’ll celebrate your last Reaping, just like we did with everyone else,” he promised.

Jeongin tries to let that wash over him. Tries to relax, tries to tell himself that Minho’s right. The district has no reason to vote you in, so stop freaking out, dammit.

But it doesn’t work.

He has a sinking feeling in his gut. And he knows the rest of them feel it, too.

The others try to make it normal. Jisung is arguing with Changbin about who gets the last strip of bacon. Hyunjin is vying for Changbin’s attention by poking him in the stomach repeatedly. Felix is teasing everyone about their bedhead, Seungmin is doing his best to ignore the chaos around him by plugging his ears with his fingers.

But nothing is helping.

Jeongin gets dressed in the clothes Bang Chan’s already laid out on his bed.

A nice white shirt with no holes or stains (the only one they have left- worn by all of the boys at one point or another), a pair of black dress pants, black socks with pretty flowers embroidered on by Felix, and a black pair of shoes that are too big for him.

Chan’s shoes, he’s sure.

Chan comes in after he’s dressed, smiling the saddest smile Jeongin’s ever seen.

“You look good,” he comments softly. “Very mature. Old, even,” he teases, wrapping his arms around Jeongin’s waist as he looks at his youngest boy in the mirror.

Chan’s taken care of them since he was fourteen. Since he himself was terrified that he’d get reaped, that the boys would be left with no one to care for them.

“Shut up,” Jeongin says softly, shaking his head. “You’re old. Not me,” he says, though there’s no bite in the comeback.

“I am. Just a bit,” Chan agrees, brushing Jeongin’s hair out of his face. “C’mere,” he says, turning Jeongin around. He fusses with Jeongin’s hair- he needs to be presentable for the Capitol, after all. Jeongin can’t look like he doesn’t care about his appearance.

Not today.

Jeongin watches Chan quietly, looking at the tears pricking at the ends of his eyes.

“I’m not getting picked,” he says softly, but it’s almost a question.

Chan smiles at him, nodding. “You’re not getting picked,” he confirms, sighing. “One last day. And we’re safe,” he promises. “Just get through today. That’s all,” he says.

That’s all.

That’s all.

That’s all.

Jeongin nods, his jaw clenched harder than ever before. 

It’s hard to believe it’s his last Reaping. He thought it would never end.

“We need to be there in ten. We’ll go together,” Chan says, kissing Jeongin’s head one last time.

Jeongin hates getting pricked.

The gun they use for the blood horrifies him. It’s a terrifying contraption- big for no reason other than to scare the kids, he’s sure. But he holds out his finger nonetheless. He knows this game.

He makes his way to the corral of children gathered in the square, standing quietly next to the other boys in town that are about to age out. They make fun of him relentlessly on other days. Call him “soft.” Say he’s weak.

They’re right. Jeongin knows they’re right.

But today, they say nothing.

Their eyes are glued to the ground. Like always. 

But something is different this time. He can’t help but notice it. 

He doesn’t know what it is- maybe just that he’s on their level now? Maybe that they’re all about to age out, and none of them want to jinx it?

It doesn’t matter. He pushes the thought out of his head.

The man from the Capitol that’s in charge of the Reaping- Cynos- finally steps up to the microphone.

“Welcome, District 10, and welcome, Panem! To the 25th Annual Reaping for the Hunger Games!” He says.

He’s all flash. Eccentric, Hyunjin would call it. He knows Hyunjin probably loves the outfit this man wears- bright blues and greens, feathers poking out, almost like a peacock calling for a mate. Jeongin wonders if it’s on purpose.

“As we all know, this Hunger Games has a twist! For our very first Quarter Quell- the tributes from your District will be chosen by the citizens! I’m sure we’re all very excited for our results!” He says.

Excited. Sure.

That’s one way to put it.

Jeongin glances back to where the boys are- all gathered in a tight cluster at the very front of the community. They knew he’d want to see them.

Bang Chan gives him a small smile- but there are tears streaming down his face.

Jeongin knows Chan’s waited for this day for a long time. The day none of his boys would be in danger anymore. The day he could take care of all of them without fear of one of them being taken away.

Jeongin can only imagine the relief he’s probably feeling.

“Without further ado, let’s get started! Ladies first,” Cynos says. He opens an envelope instead of pulling a name from one of the glass bowls that are normally at the front of the stage. There are none this year.

Jeongin tries not to think about why that is.

“Your female tribute for the 25th Hunger Games- Irelyn Crest!” Cynos yells with such enthusiasm that it makes Jeongin sick.

Irelyn is sixteen. She’s a nasty young girl, but Jeongin can’t help but feel bad as she gathers her courage to make her way to the stage.

She says nothing. Looks at no one. Gathers her strength in her palms as she clenches her fists during the walk to the stage.

She stands next to Cynos like she belongs there. Like she has something to prove.

Jeongin supposes she does.

“Next, for the boys,” Cynos says as he hands the envelope off and holds his hand out for the next.

Jeongin stares at the ground.

“Your male tribute for the 25th Hunger Games,” Cynos starts.

Jeongin holds his breath.

The sinking feeling returns. Hair on the back of his neck rises, the heat of the sun is suddenly horribly present on his face.

“Yang Jeongin!” Cynos yells.

The floor falls from underneath him.

Chapter Text

Jeongin hears the collapse before he sees it.

Minho screams and crumples to the ground, his arms wrapped tight around his middle like he’s going to be sick. Changbin is on him in a second, whispering “get up, get up,” as he tries to haul the older boy up off the ground so as not to cause a scene and get one of them shot before Jeongin can even say goodbye.

Jeongin just stares at the boys before a hand is wrapped tight around his arm. He’s dragged to the stage before he can even process it. He can’t even register the shaking in his hands before he registers Chan’s yelling.

“Him?! You voted for him?! What the hell is wrong with you people?! It’s his last year!” He’s screaming as Hyunjin and Seungmin do their best to hold him back, but Jeongin can see the tears streaming down their faces.

Jeongin can’t breathe. He’s not enough. He’s not enough to get people to want him to stay.

He’s just another one of Chan’s boys to them. Just another orphan Chan felt guilty enough to take in.

Jeongin can see the uncomfortable faces of District 10. And he understands why they’re uncomfortable.

They’re sending a kid who had one more year left to his death.

They’re sending a kid with no “real family.”

They’re sparing themselves the heartbreak of sending one of their own.

They’re taking away one of Chan’s kids.

He nearly faints at the thought of being sent to the arena. Of having to kill anything, let alone other children.

Children younger than him.

The Peacekeepers keep their hands locked around his arms, keeping him upright as his legs give way. He’s held up by his armpits as tears run down his face. He can hear himself sobbing before he even tries to stop it.

“Your District 10 tributes! May the odds be ever in your favor!” Cynos says, ignoring Jeongin’s pathetic sobbing and the ruckus going on in the back of the square.

The cameras apparently cut, because Cynos drops the act.

“Get him out of here, Jesus Christ,” he hisses, glaring down at Jeongin. He huffs before straightening out his jacket, marching off like he’s got somewhere to be.

Jeongin can’t blame him.

He’s dragged off to the inside of the Hall of Justice, upstairs as quickly as they can manage. They’re practically dragging him at this point- not that Jeongin is fighting it. He’s just not cooperating, but it’s not that he’s being disobedient on purpose.

He just can’t believe this is real.

Minho promised. Chan promised.

They swore he wouldn’t be picked. They swore.

But now he’s wondering who they had picked. Who the other boys had voted for, if not him.

Clearly, their District had different plans.

“You have five minutes,” a Peacekeeper says as Jeongin is dropped to the ground.

Jeongin stands up to the best of his ability.

The boys come in not long after.

Chan wraps him in a tight hug, and Jeongin can feel how heavily he’s shaking. Chan smells like the earth, and suddenly Jeongin is trying to memorize that smell.

“You come back,” he says softly. “You hear me? You hide, you avoid everyone as best you can, you come back,” he says, holding Jeongin’s face between his hands. He looks at Jeongin for a long time before pressing a kiss to his head. It’s rough, and it hurts, but it’s the gentlest Chan can manage for now.

Minho is next. He’s sobbing, shaking. But he wraps Jeongin in his arms as hard as Chan did, maybe even more so. Jeongin can feel his shoulders ache with the pressure of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Innie, I should’ve- I could have protected you better, and I didn’t, I’m so sorry,” he says over and over again, his hand pressed to the back of Jeongin’s head, threading his trembling fingers through the hair there.

Minho had cut it only two nights before. It looked awful, but it was short, which is what Jeongin had wanted.

Jeongin’s bottom lip trembles as he hugs Minho back.

Changbin is next. He grabs Jeongin tight by the shoulders, glaring at him. Jeongin knows it’s not really directed at him.

“You’re stronger than you think you are. You can do this, Jeongin,” he says, voice shaking as heavily as Jeongin’s hands. “You fight with everything you have. You’re better than this. You’re coming back alive,” he promises.

Jeongin knows he doesn’t truly believe that. None of them do.

None of them do.

Jeongin can see the way Changbin’s jaw clenches and unclenches. He can practically hear it- the grinding of his teeth.

Hyunjin says nothing. He holds Jeongin as tight as he can, pressing kisses to the younger’s head. It feels like he’s holding Jeongin as long as he can to memorize the boy’s body.

Before all of Panem sees him bloodied and mangled.

That’s probably exactly what he’s doing.

Jeongin hates the way Hyunjin’s eyes shine in the light as he steps back. Jinnie always looks beautiful. It’s not fair that he still looks that way, even with the grief taking up every line in his face, every curve of his body.

Felix holds Jeongin’s hands as tears pour down his face.

“I love you. We love you so much, Innie. Promise you’ll do your best,” he whispers, his voice breaking on the last word.

Jeongin can only nod.

Seungmin is last. He wraps his arms around Jeongin’s waist, burying his face in the younger boy’s shoulder.

After Jeongin, he’s the youngest.

After Jeongin’s gone, he’ll be the youngest. Forever.

Jeongin is his only little brother. The only one who doesn’t try to take care of Seungmin. The only one Seungmin can take care of.

The only one that could never harm a fucking fly. And they want to send him to his death.

The rage in Seungmin’s body is only culled by the fact that this is likely the last time he’ll see Jeongin alive.

“Do your best,” Seungmin whispers. “Try to come back. Please. Please, try to come back.”

Jeongin nods, his face buried in Seungmin’s chest.

Seungmin curls around him like they could become one. Like he could hide Jeongin between the spaces in his ribs and sneak them both out of here.

Peacekeepers come in only a few minutes after that.

Chan tries to hug Jeongin one last time. He’s ripped away, kicking and screaming.

The others follow silently, watching their older brother almost collapse in agony in the hall.

Jeongin’s knees are close to giving out once more, but his body holds off as if it knows it’s about to be dragged off again.

And Jeongin is left alone. For the first time in years, he has no one to rely on. No one to go to. No help coming his way at any point from here on out.

He stares at the door until a Peacekeeper comes to collect him. He feels the vibration of the ventilation system humming back to life as if trying to rid the place of the stench of grief. And he follows wordlessly.

Chapter Text

The train is stuffy.

That’s the first thing he really notices. It’s stuffy and warm and gross. Jeongin imagines it’s supposed to mimic a nice environment, but all he can think about is how sweaty he is.

Maybe it’s the nerves, sure. But it’s also hotter than daylight.

He sits quietly across from Irelyn. It’s awkward at best. Jeongin wants to try and comfort her- wants to be for her what his brothers are for him. But he’s never been good at comforting people.

Irelyn glares at him the entire time.

She’s not even trying to hide it. It’s like she’s doing it with a purpose.

Jeongin avoids her eye with everything in him. It’s not working.

Every time he shifts his eyes, he can feel the fire behind hers. Burning a hole through his forehead as if to say, ‘Look at me, I dare you.’

She huffs sharply.

“You made us look pathetic,” she says finally. “They’re going to think 10 is a joke. All your sobbing theatrics- did you even think about that?” She asks.

Jeongin is taken aback. He’s known Irelyn for a few years- they go to the same school. She’s sixteen, two entire years below him, but is somehow in the same math class.

Was, he reminds himself. Was in the same math class.

“I’m- sorry, I… I didn’t mean to,” Jeongin says softly.

“They’re going to think we’re easy targets,” she hisses at him. “Because of you. Did you even think of how this would look for me? For our District?” She asks.

Jeongin can’t help but think she looks a bit pathetic as well. After all, they’d voted for her, too, right?

“We should have shown them that they can’t fuck with 10. And you showed them we’re a bunch of crybabies. Does that sound like it’ll go well for us?” She asks, the venom clear in her voice.

Jeongin can only shake his head.

She has a point, of course. They should be showing how untouchable they are as a district.

But Jeongin can’t exactly bring himself to care in the moment.

“You two are in for a fun ride,” another voice says from behind them.

It’s calculated. Not cold, but controlled. In the way only a Capitol-instructed voice can be.

Silas. The last victor from District 10.

She’s in a dress that’s almost a toned-down version of Cynos’s suit. Blue and green-toned, with only a few feathers here and there. Like it was purposeful.

Jeongin assumes it was. The escort should match the mentor, after all.

Silas won the seventeenth games. There’s only one other victor before her, and he’s all but incapacitated most of the time.

Silas is the closest thing they have to a mentor who knows what she’s doing. 

She crosses her arms across her chest almost lazily. As if she has no interest in being there, but is enjoying the attention nonetheless.

“It did look a little pathetic- but don’t discredit that. Use it,” she says. “Don’t underestimate how much the Capitol loves an underdog, Irelyn. And Jeongin here- He’s an underdog. No one expects anything of him right now. He could use that.”

She looks at Jeongin like a piece of meat. Jeongin hates it with every fiber of his being. 

He’s a person, dammit. All of these children are people. Even Irelyn.

Irelyn rolls her eyes and shuffles off to a different seat in the train. Jeongin watches her quietly. Watches the deliberate sway in her walk as if she’s better than the whole of the games, as if she has this in the bag. He can’t figure out if he wants to follow her or disappear entirely.

He’s her elder. He should be protecting her. But it definitely seems like she wants nothing to do with him.

“Don’t mind her,” Silas says softly. “She’s a handful. Silas Crest,” she introduces herself.

And Jeongin remembers: Yes. Irelyn and Silas Crest.

Cousins, he’s pretty sure.

So 10 did send a victor. Jeongin was simply the price they paid.

“You’ve got a bit of a reputation around 10, I’m told,” Silas says. “A softy, right? Cries when he sees a butterfly?” She teases lightly.

Jeongin glares at her. 

“I don’t cry when I see a butterfly. I just don’t like… the idea of killing a living thing. It’s not right,” he amends softly, shifting his gaze to his feet.

Chan’s shoes.

His eyes fill with tears against his will.

His bottom lip trembles as he’s flooded with the thought that he will truly never see his brothers again. This was the last time.

He’s not going to win. He knows that.

Everyone in District 10 knows that.

Silas mockingly coos at him.

“Don’t cry, baby bird,” she says, the way you would comfort a pet instead of a child, patting him on the shoulder condescendingly. “You’ve got some time to build a better reputation. Not a lot, but… hey, do your best,” she says, shuffling off to find her cousin.

Jeongin sets off to find a bed.

He wanders the train quietly, running into Cynos on the way.

Cynos huffs at him, but says nothing to him. He mutters something under his breath about “framing Jeongin’s sensitivity as his greatest strength” the next time they’re on screen.

Jeongin hates that even more than if he’d been insulting the way Silas had.

He finally finds his room. It’s a bit run-down, but nothing he isn’t used to. He normally shares a bed with Seungmin, so… on the bright side, at least this is his own. At least he doesn’t have to share.

He curls up in the bed tightly, shivering as he climbs into the comforter that isn’t even half as uncomfortable as the scratchy blanket back home.

He misses the scratchiness.

He’d give absolutely anything to be back in it. To be complaining to Minho that he and Seungmin needed a new blanket. That, at the very least, they needed an extra so they wouldn’t have to share. That they’re growing boys who need their own space.

He’d give his life eagerly for one more night of sharing that awful blanket.

He curls into the bed, thinking only of what he might’ve done differently.

Was Chan disappointed in him for crying so much? Did Hyunjin vote for him, is that why he hadn’t said anything during their goodbye? Would Seungmin be okay, having no one to care for anymore?

He presses the comforter into his eyes, praying that the boys would recover from this loss.

After all, what’s another orphan these days?

It’s not like anyone will remember him.

Chapter Text

The walk to the dining cart is short, but somehow, one of the longest Jeongin’s endured so far.

He can smell the food. Eggs, bacon, ham. It smells like heaven.

But it still makes him sick to his stomach. 

He hadn’t slept much. Hadn’t slept at all, honestly. The moment of the reaping replayed in his head over and over, keeping him awake, keeping him aware.

Aware that he’d been chosen as a sacrifice to bring glory to District 10. Aware that this would buy them a year of peace within the Capitol. Aware that he was the key to keeping the Capitol happy with his District for at least three hundred and sixty-five days. 

Irelyn was going to win. She was destined to win, Jeongin was sure of it.

The clanging of the train wheels against the tracks brings him back to himself. Just in time for a plate to be placed in front of him.

He does his best to eat. He’ll need his strength, after all. Or at least what little he has of it to at least run away from the blood bath that is the cornucopia.

He wants to survive at least one night. He wants to make his brothers proud. Wants to try at least and not seem so fucking pathetic, like he has some kind of chance.

He doesn’t.

There’s food in front of him that he’s never seen before. It’s… fluffy. Like something made with some sort of dough, but it’s flat. There’s something similar next to it- risen like bread, but almost like tiny cakes. A white substance with specks of… something. Is that meat?

“They’re pancakes. Those are biscuits, and that’s gravy,” Silas says softly, smirking at him.

Jeongin blushes. Was he really that obvious? Was it that clear how poor he was?

“They’re good. Try some, sweetheart,” she said, filling up his plate with all of it. “Have as much as you want. I’m sure there will be more in the Capitol for you,” she promises, almost teasing in nature.

It makes Jeongin so uncomfortable that he almost says something. Chan would have said something.

At home, you ate only your share, and extras only if someone offered them. Food is scarce and sacred and should be treated as such. But as the food is piled high on his plate, he can’t help but think that maybe it’s okay to be a little selfish.

Just this once.

Jeongin tries the pancakes.

They’re soft. Like him.

Silas watches, amused. She clearly resists the urge to laugh at him.

Irelyn doesn’t live with her cousin in Victor’s Village, but she might as well. Jeongin knows she’s there often, knows the amount of food available to her there. He doesn’t blame her for going as often as she does.

If he and his brothers lived in Victor’s Village, they’d never leave.

Irelyn glares at him much in the same way she had the day before. 

It’s almost like she’s jealous of the attention he’s getting from her cousin. But Jeongin doubts that.

Surely she knows he’s only getting attention because he’s a mess. Because he’s a pitiful wreck. Not because he has a chance of going home.

Not like her.

“Alright, kiddos,” Silas says, propping her feet up on the empty chair next to her. “Let’s talk about our interviews, shall we? Jeongin,” she starts, looking at him far too seriously. It doesn’t match the vibe her body has.

“I want you to bring up your big brothers as much as you can. That crying you did? TV gold, even if Cynos doesn’t want to admit it,” she says. “The Capitol eats that shit up. They love a pitiful little thing, and you fit the description perfectly. The others won’t see you as a threat, and that works to your advantage,” she explains.

As cold and calculating as it is, Jeongin has to admit… she has a point.

Jeongin wasn’t chosen to win. He wasn’t chosen to be helpful to Irelyn.

He was chosen because he wasn’t a threat to her.

He’d seen tributes similar to him before, but none of them had ever become victors. They’re killed within the first day.

That’s the last thing Jeongin wants.

That, and he doesn’t want his family to see his body mangled from the inside out. He wants to go peacefully if at all possible. He wants to look like himself, if he can.

Silas’s tone shifts as she speaks to Irelyn.

Irelyn is a weapon. Jeongin is the bait.

“Irelyn, you’re the opposite. This whole enemies from the same District thing you’ve got going on? Use that,” she says. “You’re tough, and we all know it. My little cousin is going to win this thing,” she promises. “But don’t bring up how pitiful our other tribute is, you got that? Focus on yourself. Your strengths. You’re mean. You’re angry. You’re ready to win,” she says.

Jeongin can’t help but wonder if Silas voted for her own cousin to go into this death game.

Irelyn is an awful girl. She is mean. She hangs around the boys who call Jeongin soft and weak. She hangs around the girls who praise her as “our Victor’s cousin.” She watches the cows in town get slaughtered and doesn’t even blink.

But she’s cunning. Smart. Beautiful in an almost tragic way. It would be awful to lose that beauty to a cruel, meaningless death in these games.

If Jeongin knows anything, it’s that Irelyn has a far better chance of winning these games than he does.

Irelyn rolls her eyes, her arms crossed tight around her chest as she glares at her plate in front of her.

“The Capitol isn’t going to buy into me if we’ve got the pitiful crybaby going at the same time. They’ll be more interested in him. What will that do for me? They’ll just end up hating me,” she said.

“That’s all the better for us, honey,” Silas says. “You’ll prove you deserve this win. More than any Career ever could,” she promises. “Don’t bring Jeongin down in your interviews. In fact, you can use him. Your district trusts you to protect the weakest among them,” she says, reframing Jeongin’s situation entirely to Irelyn’s favor.

Irelyn clearly thinks it over for a moment before nodding. She doesn’t like it, and it’s obvious- but she trusts her cousin. She’s been doing this a long time, after all.

The TVs surrounding them flicker to life with the Capitol headliner.

The recap of the Reaping.

They show the other Districts. The way the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 are clearly proud to be representing them in the games. They’re smiling and laughing when their names are called. 

Tributes from 3, 5, and 6 aren’t happy, but they’re proud. They walk onto the stage with no fanfare, but no crying either.

The girl from 7 is crying, but not as pathetically as Jeongin had been. More like… acceptance. Not grief, not hysteria. Just relaxing.

The boy from 7, though… catches Jeongin’s eye.

He stays in the crowd of children for a moment before heading to the younger ones. He kisses three of them on the head before heading back to the audience, where he hugs four young men.

This boy reminds him a lot of Chan, he thinks.

He hugs the four boys, whispering something to them all. He heads to the stage with a sad smile on his face, bowing to the people of 7. They almost cheer for him. It’s a somber kind of cheer, but it’s something similar to the people of 10 when Irelyn walked up to the stage. A quiet confidence that they had picked the next Victor of the Hunger Games.

Song Mingi. Of District 7.

He wonders if those boys he hugged and kissed would miss him the way his brothers will miss Jeongin.

Jeongin stares at him until it moves on to District 8.

Tributes from 8 and 9 are nothing of note. The girl from 9 kicks and screams as she’s dragged onto the stage. She’s similar enough to Irelyn, but at least Irelyn had the dignity to walk herself to the stage instead of fighting with the Peacekeepers.

Then it’s 10’s turn.

Most of the coverage is about Jeongin, which shocks him. He’s not interesting. He’s just crying, his knees giving out several times before finally cutting to District 11. Irelyn’s only had a minute or two of screen time in the entire recap.

Jeongin hears Irelyn huff.

“Taking up all of my Reaping time with his little sob story,” she huffs under her breath.

Silas is almost cruel with her reaction. She smiles, glancing at Jeongin.

“This is good for you, baby bird,” she coos softly, winking at him.

Jeongin wants to throw up the pancake he’s just eaten.

Chapter Text

When they arrive in the Capitol, the first thing Jeongin sees is the lights.

It’s already nighttime, and the city lights are blinding. There are people lined up near the train stations, cheering as they see the train. There aren’t many, but these people are clearly excited for the Games, and to meet the new Tributes.

Jeongin is amazed.

The Capitol is beautiful. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen before. The skyline of lit up buildings, the gorgeous flowers lined up near the train station, there are more colors here than Jeongin has ever seen in his life, he’s pretty sure.

Irelyn is speechless as well. Her mouth hangs open as she takes it all in, shoving Jeongin to the side so she can get her own view of how it looks.

Jeongin lets her.

Silas is smirking in her seat, a glass of whiskey loosely swinging from her hand.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Way better than what we’ve got back home,” she says. “The grass is actually green. Not that sickly yellow we’re used to seeing.”

Jeongin can only nod.

“The grass back home isn’t yellow,” Irelyn says under her breath. “It’s not this green. This looks fake. But it isn’t yellow,” she defends.

Jeongin glances at her. It’s the first time she’s actually expressed any kind of desire to return home.

The train slows to a stop.

Jeongin follows Silas and Irelyn out. The smell is instant- perfumes that penetrate his nostrils in a sickening way, the overwhelming stench of privilege none of them are aware of. Silas waves, greeting the reporters kindly. She smiles like she’s been doing this her whole life. It’s a deadly smile, one that she designed to strike fear into people.

Jeongin remembers her games. Remembers how disgusted Chan was with her when she returned home.

He remembers- so clearly- the shot the Capitol used over and over again when she won. Her first kill. The smile paired with the blood on her face.

They used to be good friends. But after Chan saw her kill like that…

He can only think of what Chan will think of him if he actually manages to work up the courage to defend himself.

Would Chan look at him with the same disgust?

Chan had ordered all of the boys to stay far away from Silas when she came home. He remembers going to her welcome home ceremony- when she walked off the train like someone who was proud of what they’d done. Chan stood in front of the boys like he was protecting their innocence with all he had. 

Jeongin had been new to Chan’s household that year. His first year with his brothers, and they protected him like their lives depended on it.

He’s brought back by a cattle prod pressed against his back.

He stiffens, but he moves just as the prod is kissing his spine.

Irelyn is posing as nonchalantly as she can. A quick glance over the shoulder with a dangerous look in her eyes. A quiet smirk as if to tell the world that she’s there to win.

Jeongin can barely keep up. He walks quietly behind them, almost exactly three paces. The way he used to with Minho when he brought him on errands.

Irelyn loops her arm through his. He wants nothing more than to pull away, but this is her moment. And Jeongin has taken enough screentime from her.

“It’s okay, Innie,” she says, loudly enough for the reporters to hear. “It’s okay. We’re just going to our rooms for the night,” she promises.

Jeongin feels sick for the second time that day.

He knows she’s playing the role that Silas assigned her. The protector of 10. The shepherd guiding the lost lamb.

He wonders how she’ll spin his death in her favor. Maybe she’ll find his body and pretend to cry over it. Maybe she’ll let him die in the arena acting as though she’d intended for the knife to fall into her chest instead of his own.

“Jeongin! Are you excited to be here in the Capitol? Are you missing your family back home? They made quite the impression!” A reporter practically screams at him, shoving a microphone in his face.

“We’re not taking any questions right now, thank you,” Silas answers instantly, throwing herself in front of Jeongin. “We’ll be happy to tell you anything you want during interviews, though! Write those questions down, we’ll be answering them as quickly as we can!”

Jeongin knows she’s doing this more for Irelyn than him. If he answers, he’ll look more sympathetic, and Irelyn will be overlooked entirely.

They walk quietly after that. Jeongin says nothing. He stares at the ground, wincing at the lights of the pictures being taken of him. 

He can hear laughter from the crowd as he trips over his own feet.

As they make their way to the rooms, Jeongin lets himself breathe for a beat until more people swarm him.

There’s a man who reminds him strongly of Hyunjin there. But he’s dressed in all black, a clear choice to attempt to fade into the background. The other two people- a man and a woman- fuss over him dramatically.

“What a cutie! Oh, you’re in for a treat,” the woman says, pressing her hands to his face. She squeezes his cheeks like she can’t help herself. “We’ll get you cleaned up in no time. You’re adorable! I can’t believe you’re eighteen- you could pass for fourteen with those cheeks!”

The man in all black shoos her away.

“I want him in browns. He should look like a deer. The doe eyes are perfect for that,” he says, Jeongin’s chin in his hand, looking down at him. “A prey animal. People will know exactly where he stands the second they see him,” he says.

“Jesus, Haru, can the kids have some time to relax before you start designing?” Silas says, arms crossed tight over her chest. It’s the first time Jeongin agrees with her.

“We’re not dressing them yet. Just getting a feel for what we’ll need for their chariot rides,” he reasons. “Her,” he starts, looking at Irelyn. “Reds and oranges. A fox, that’s what she is. Cunning, sneaky, smarter than she looks. A tiny predator, but a predator they should fear,” he says, looking Irelyn up and down.

Irelyn practically glows with the praise.

She was groomed for this game. Jeongin knows it.

The other two take notes. They force Jeongin’s arms up near his shoulders, pressing different tape measures to his body.

Back home, only animals are talked about this casually. He knows he’s a piece of meat, but it would be nice if they could disguise it a bit better.

Irelyn does exactly as she’s told when she’s told to do it, something Jeongin can’t seem to manage.

It’s confusing. He’s always been good at following orders.

But he supposes it’s harder when it’s people he doesn’t know. Chan and Minho’s instructions always make sense. They’re always for the good of the family.

This is for some frivolous nonsense that he has no interest in taking part in.

“We’ll be back tomorrow morning to get you ready. Get some rest, sweetheart,” Haru murmurs, placing a hand on Jeongin’s head in an almost comforting way.

He scratches Jeongin’s skull just barely, but he does it.

Jeongin could swear it almost feels like the man cares about him.

He leaves not long after that, his two assistants following and talking amongst themselves about how Jeongin is just skinny enough for a corset.

Silas hums softly, watches as they leave.

“You’re to stay in your rooms for the entire night. You’re not allowed to leave. If you try, the sensor will go off, and we’ll have Peacekeepers swarming the place before we’ve even had a chance to relax,” she tells them.

She looks at them expectantly.

“Go on. Get a good night’s rest. You’re going to need it,” she says.

Irelyn huffs, but strolls off to her room anyway. Jeongin shuffles away.

He walks into the bedroom like it’s a death sentence.

And in a way, it is.

He glares at himself in the bathroom mirror.

He knows he’s going to die. He just wishes it wasn’t so drawn out.

He wishes he could see Minho and Chan again. Sleep next to Seungmin one more night. Hear Felix and Hyunjin singing loudly in the bathroom. Watch Jisung and Changbin wrestle over the last piece of bread.

He wishes he was home.

He wishes he didn’t have to be entertainment for the fucking Capitol.

He clenches his fists at his sides, splashing water across his face bitterly. It’s the first time he’s been angry instead of just scared.

He doesn’t want to die for them.

He’s still scared. But that fire is finally flickering to life.

His hatred for the Capitol, who are ecstatic to watch him die. His hatred of these games, that have lost their original meaning entirely. His hatred for his District, who sent him here so Irelyn could come home a Victor.

He forces himself to bed before he can let it fester any longer. 

Sleep drags him under in restless waves.

He survives, in his dreams. In his dreams, he’s the Victor. He gets to go home.

He’s crowned in the sunlight of the arena. Surrounded by people cheering his name.

And for a small, fleeting moment-

Jeongin allows himself to believe it.

Chapter Text

Jeongin shoots out of bed like his life depends on it.

He’d almost believed his dream was real. That he’d won, that he was back home. That he could feel Seungmin’s hand in his as he wakes up in the morning.

Of course it wasn’t. Idiot.

He knows he isn’t going to win. When it really comes down to it, he’s not going to defend himself. He’ll accept it- terrified or otherwise- and he’ll die a brutal death the way the Capitol wants him to.

He can only wish that his brothers will be spared the gruesome visual.

He jumps at the knock on his door. It’s only for courtesy, something Silas clearly doesn’t truly care about when she opens the door full force.

“Come on, kid. Breakfast,” she says, nodding toward the kitchen.

He huffs softly but does as he’s told. He’s still in the clothes he was reaped in- the white shirt, the black slacks, the socks with Felix’s embroidered flowers.

Sunflowers.

“For our sunshine,” Felix had told him when he’d handed them to him the night before. “And to celebrate your last Reaping! We can’t afford a real gift, but hopefully this one is nice enough,” he said, ruffling Jeongin’s hair.

“They’re perfect,” Jeongin had told him.

And they are.

Maybe he can give them to Silas before he enters the arena. Felix should have them back. He doesn’t want to die in these socks, though he doubts he actually will. He doubts they’ll let him bring anything with him into the arena.

When he walks in, he notices Irelyn’s wearing brown and green clothes- pajamas, maybe. They look comfortable.

“Did you sleep in those? Gross,” she comments, looking Jeongin up and down. “They gave us clean clothes to change into, you know.”

Jeongin chews on his bottom lip. “Sorry,” he says under his breath. He hadn’t really taken the time to look around the room he’d been in. The lights had already been off anyway, and he really hadn’t cared enough to change out of them.

He makes his way to the table and sits down quietly, looking at the food. There’s somehow even more food than there was on the train. It sickens him- he’s sure they’re living like kings in every household in the Capitol if this is how they’re treating tributes. Meanwhile, back home, they have to split four meals eight ways just to get something in everyone’s stomach.

He thinks about how often Chan and Minho have gone hungry for him and the others.

He picks at the eggs on his plate, glares daggers into the bacon. All he can really stomach is the toast with a tiny slab of butter on it. But Irelyn and Silas eat like they’ve been starved for months.

He knows they haven’t been.

The front door opens with a crash.

“Good morning District 10!” The female assistant says as she walks in, holding two small suitcases. The male assistant clambers in behind her, carrying three large totes, two garment bags, and wheeling in a suitcase behind him as well. Haru comes in last, carrying nothing, but wearing a similar outfit to what he’d had on yesterday. This time it’s a black turtleneck with a suit jacket, the nicest slacks Jeongin’s ever seen with golden stars embroidered onto them, and dress shoes shinier than silver.

The two assistants look ridiculous next to him. Green and purple hair, makeup as if they’re going somewhere eccentric, outfits that jut out every which way.

“I hope we’re ready for today! The parade is always so fabulous, isn’t it, Cassian?” The woman says, gripping Cassian’s arm in excitement.

“My favorite part of the games! Of course, it’s mostly because we get to doll you kiddos up,” Cassian answers, huffing as he places all of the bags down on the couch.

Silas hums, downing the glass of whiskey she has. “I’m going to go talk with the other mentors. They normally hang around while the stylists do their thing. Good luck,” she says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She kisses Irelyn’s head before she goes, swaggering off after pouring herself another glass.

“Cassian, you’ll be taking care of Jeongin. Clean him up. And get him out of those clothes, for God’s sake,” Haru says, but there’s no anger or disgust in his voice. He’s almost patient, almost pitying. Like he knows Jeongin doesn’t want to lose the last part of home. “Liora, get Irelyn dolled up. I want red eyeshadow, make it dramatic. Light blush, though. Her pale cheeks will go well with the fox colors.”

They both set off on their orders immediately.

Cassian ushers Jeongin off to the bathroom while Liora grabs Irelyn’s face to start inspecting it.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian says, humming. “Get undressed, we’re gonna get you clean as a whistle!”

Jeongin’s discomfort must be obvious, because Cassian starts explaining himself immediately. 

“I’ve got to really scrub you down, dear. Exfoliating, waxing, moisturizing, the whole nine yards! Don’t be shy- your body is just gorgeous,” he promises.

Jeongin clenches his jaw, his stomach dropping at the compliment that should feel nice but just feels gross, but he does as he’s told. He gets undressed and goes to the shower, sitting when prompted by Cassian on a white shower chair. Cassian turns the water on and it’s scalding immediately, but Jeongin doesn’t complain. He knows better.

The water hurts, but it feels expensive and luxurious, and he shouldn’t complain about luxury. But that somehow makes it all the worse.

He’s never had a hot shower before. The boys bathe in a tub most of the time, and honestly they can really only do it two or three times a week since the District needs the water for their livestock.

Cassian does, indeed, scrub him down. He uses a vanilla scented soap- is it soap?- with scratchy beads in it, along with a sponge that is rough to the touch. Cassian scrubs his back, his shoulders, his legs, everything. Then he uses another soap- this time labeled “sandalwood” and scrubs him down again. The shampoo he uses (three different times) is also sandalwood, and Jeongin’s nose burns from all the smells he’s ingesting. His eyes burn from the chemicals.

Once Jeongin is toweled off, he’s given a pair of boxers to finally cover himself with, and is sat down on his bed.

“Arms up,” Cassian says, gathering some kind of goo on a wooden stick.

Jeongin obeys, lifting his arms up. Cassian puts the goo on his armpits, and Jeongin absolutely despises the feeling of it. Then, he places a white strip onto it.

Then he pulls. Hard.

“Ow!” Jeongin says, recoiling back.

“Oh, come on, honey, it’s only wax. We need you hairless for tonight, it’ll make you look so much younger!” Cassian says, forcing Jeongin’s arms back up.

Jeongin looks at him like he’s insane.

“Why can’t I have hair? I’m eighteen, I’m one of the oldest ones here,” he complains, holding his arm down against his side.

“Because that’s the look we’re going for. Sweet, innocent, harmless. Just trust me, please?” Cassian says, looking at Jeongin expectantly.

And… well, Jeongin doesn’t really have a choice, does he?

He lifts his arm again, this time bracing for the impact.

This goes on for what feels like hours. He’s waxed clean by the end of it, the only hair left on his body being on his head from the eyes up.

His eyebrows are plucked into some kind of actual shape, and then Cassian pulls out scissors.

“I don’t want my hair cut. My brother just cut it a few days ago,” he says, shaking his head and standing up.

Surely he can stand up for himself for this. Just this one thing.

Minho cut his hair. Minho styled it. Minho had laughed when it looked ridiculous, and Jeongin had laughed along with him.

Cassian must have some heart, because he hums softly and puts the scissors down. He looks at him with too much pity in his eyes.

“Alright, alright. I’ll just style it, okay? Sit, please,” he says, gesturing back to the bed.

Jeongin does as he’s told.

Again.

He hates how easy it is for him to follow orders.

He winces as Cassian is a bit rough with his hair. He’s always been tenderheaded, and the constant push and pull of this man’s fingers in his hair and the gel he’s using hurts.

Minho was always gentle with him.

Once Cassian is finished, he pulls Jeongin up to look at himself in the mirror.

Jeongin can’t even recognize himself.

He’s clean- really clean- for the first time in years. His hair is feathered up and curled, with small pieces of it framing his face just so. His eyebrows are unrecognizable, but they look nice.

Jeongin almost likes how he looks.

“Perfect,” Cassian says, pressing his hands to Jeongin’s shoulders.

Jeongin is taller than him, but only by an inch or so. They’re about the same width- but Jeongin has slightly broader shoulders.

He doesn’t look so weak compared to him.

“Okay, honey, go get your makeup done, and then you’ll come back for your outfit! I’m going to get Irelyn dressed,” he says, sending him off with a light push of his shoulders before ushering off to Irelyn’s room.

Jeongin walks back out to the living room as Irelyn stands up from the couch.

If Jeongin looks different, Irelyn is unrecognizable.

Her hair is done up in a similar enough way to Jeongin’s, but her formerly blonde hair has been colored an orangey-red. She’s got red and orange eyeshadow almost completely covering her eyes, with black eyeshadow that looks like it could be used as a dagger. Her eyebrows have been tweezed similarly to Jeongin’s, but they’re sharper. Her cheekbones are equally so.

She looks dangerous.

She hums happily with her look as she admires herself in the small mirror that Liora holds in front of her, primping herself up a bit as Jeongin walks in.

She looks up at him and giggles.

“You look ridiculous,” she says, but it’s a kinder tone than she usually has.

Jeongin supposes it’s because she’s been pampered the way a Victor’s cousin should be.

“So do you,” he says softly.

She laughs.

“We look like Capitol, which is what we want,” she reasons, nodding. “Don’t worry, we’re going to stand out. All of the other tributes will know exactly who we are,” she says.

She skips off to her bedroom to get dressed, and Liora pats the couch so Jeongin takes his seat.

“Okay, I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry, I’m not going to be nearly as dramatic for you! We’re just going to do some light neutrals, it’ll look gorgeous!” She squeals.

Jeongin only nods.

He keeps his eyes closed as she works, looking up when he’s told, looking down, turning his face just the way she wants him to. Liora doesn’t move him the way Cassian does. She lightly suggests what she wants and waits patiently for Jeongin to comply, almost like she doesn’t want to hurt him.

This part doesn’t take nearly as long as Cassian’s part. He wonders how much Liora did with Irelyn. If she scrubbed her down and waxed her the way Cassian did him.

“All done!” She says finally, humming at her work. She holds up the mirror.

True to her word, his look is not nearly as dramatic as Irelyn’s.

He’d prefer no makeup at all- he’s told he can’t rub his eyes or touch his face too much lest the makeup rub off on his hands- but this isn’t too bad.

He only has some light brown eyeshadow to make his eyes stand out more. He assumes they’re going for a “doe-eyed” look like they said yesterday. His cheeks have been somehow a little more rounded out as well.

“Perfect, right?” Liora says.

She’s clearly looking for some kind of approval. Her eyes shine with a need to be praised. 

Jeongin nods, a soft smile on his face. He wonders how young Liora is. She doesn’t look old enough to be a stylist. She probably has connections somewhere that got her this job.

“It’s perfect,” he confirms softly. “Thank you for helping me,” he says.

Liora lights up at the praise.

“I’m so glad you like it! I was a little nervous to do yours, you have such nice cheek bones that I hate to hide them, but you understand!” She says.

Jeongin smiles at her enthusiasm. He stands when she grabs his hands and leads him to his bedroom. 

“Cassian will be in in a minute to get you dressed! Irelyn should be just about done!” She says.

Jeongin nods, sitting himself on the bed. He chews on his bottom lip quietly, trying his best not to itch at his suddenly very itchy eyes.

When Cassian gets him dressed, it takes ages.

There are pins and sewing happening all around him, but he’s finally done after about two hours.

When he looks at himself in the mirror again, he wants to jump out of the window.

He definitely looks like a deer. He understands that it wasn’t symbolic- it was literal.

He has a brown shirt with huge ruffles on the sleeves, tan pants that look almost as good as Haru’s. They’re tailored to his height specifically. There are white patches throughout the outfit, echoing that of a newborn fawn. He wears brown dress shoes that perfectly match the shirt and white socks, and on his head sits a headpiece covered in leaves and small yellow flowers.

And two small antlers.

“Out, out, go show everyone! You and Irelyn look perfect together!” Cassian says, ushering him out to the living room.

Irelyn looks better than him.

She wears a fitted floor length gown, with orange and red throughout it. It’s sparkly, but not in an obnoxious way- in a way that catches the light beautifully. She has a white fur shawl covering her shoulders since the dress only has tiny straps on it. Her heels are black and strapped all the way up her leg. You can see one of them fully through the slit on her dress that stops at her midthigh. 

Haru and Silas sit on the couch as the two of them stand there. Irelyn looks like she already belongs there- like she should be invited to galas and events of high status.

Jeongin just looks uncomfortable.

“Look at you,” Silas coos to her cousin, smiling up at her proudly. “My little fox, you’re perfect. Ready to kill,” she compliments. 

She looks at Jeongin.

“And this fits you perfectly, baby bird. Or should we call you our little fawn?” She asks, smirking slightly at him. She stands and inspects Jeongin, humming. “You’ll have to work it a little more. Irelyn can help with how you present yourself, she does it perfectly,” she says, slinging another compliment toward her cousin, as if she needs it.

Jeongin nods quietly.

“You look perfect, Jeongin! I can’t wait to see you in the streets, the people are just going to eat you up!” Liora chimes in, smiling widely. “Your story is going to be a nationwide heartbreak,” she says.

Jeongin knows she means his death.

His breath catches slightly but he does his best to play it off.

Cassian pinches Liora’s arm hard enough to make her yelp.

Everyone else says nothing.

Irelyn glances at Jeongin quietly, looking at the way his eyes are shining.

Haru hums and gets off the couch, making his way to Jeongin, but looking at both of them.

“You look perfect,” he promises. “I know it feels a little silly, doesn’t it?” The last part is aimed at Jeongin.

“Your mentor will talk strategy later. For now, our work is done. Let’s go,” he says, leaving with no dramatics- something Jeongin has come to expect of him.

Cassian and Liora head out as well- Liora holding just her two small suitcases and Cassian bearing the brunt of the lifting.

Irelyn reaches out for Jeongin’s hand and squeezes lightly.

“I’ll be sure to help your brothers out when I win,” she promises softly.

It’s the first human side of her Jeongin has seen since they met.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He thinks, bitter as it is- he doesn’t want her to help them. He wants to be the one to go home.

Chapter Text

On their way to the parade, Jeongin is a nervous wreck.

He mutters to himself quietly, fixing the small details of his costume every few seconds. Irelyn and Silas give him sideways glances every time he moves, looking him up and down and trying their best to ignore him.

They’re strapped into a van with too much room for three people. Who could possibly need this much leg room? Maybe Hyunjin, if he really tried to stretch out.

Which Silas seems intent on doing.

Her legs stretch across the seat and in between Jeongin and Irelyn, as if she’s a big sister protecting her sibling from a dangerous predator.

If anything, her cousin is the predator. Not Jeongin.

She takes a few moments to look them over before beginning her speech.

“Remember, you two- this is the perfect place to network. We’re looking for sponsors here. Anything that will help us win the games. They send all kinds of gifts- water, food, blankets, thermoses- all things you can use,” she says. “Things that are essential for survival. There’s no Victor that’s ever won a game without sponsors, and I promise you won’t be the first,” she says. “Keep up the personas we talked about. Irelyn, sweetheart, you’re the protector. You’re in charge of keeping our fawn safe and you know it. He absolutely depends on you.”

Irelyn lets that sink in, a sick look of satisfaction on her face.

“And you, honey,” Silas starts, looking to Jeongin. “You look pretty. Keep that terrified look, it’s gorgeous for the cameras and will work great for our angle. But keep it pretty. Like you’re… being brave for the cameras, does that make sense?”

Jeongin nods.

It’s all he can realistically do. He wishes there was more he could say- argue that he’s not a fucking fawn, or a baby bird, or a fledgling, or whatever else she wants to call him. He can take care of himself, dammit, he doesn’t need a protector.

He does. All of his past points to signs that he does.

“That’s perfect, honey. Keep that face,” she says softly. “There are a lot of people here determined to go home, you’re not the only two. Both of you need to show what you can offer to them as an alliance, do you get that? You’re not allowed to speak to each other, but you can show yourselves off better than you think you can,” she promises.

Jeongin is queasy. Irelyn nods, determined to prove herself even before the games have started.

Silas smiles at them.

She downs the rest of her whiskey.

When the car stops, Peacekeepers open the door with a loud BANG!

Irelyn steps out immediately, letting the man help her down before snapping at him that he stepped on her dress. He apologizes- kind of, clearly over having a teenager yell at him and debating how much trouble he’d be in for hurting a Tribute right before the parade- before escorting her to the wagons.

Jeongin starts to step out before Silas speaks again.

“Chan was always soft,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s no wonder you turned out the same way.”

Jeongin feels the fury of the sun rise inside of his chest.

Chan isn’t soft. He cares.

There’s a fucking difference.

Out of all of his brothers, no one in town insults Chan.

Before he can defend his oldest brother, though, he’s dragged out by the arm.

“Careful with him! Don’t fuck up his suit, dammit!” Silas says- and it almost feels like he’s coming to his rescue.

The Peacekeeper lets go, but there’s a gun pointed at his back as he makes his way over to Irelyn.

Irelyn’s already on the carriage, fixing herself up as best she can without a mirror. She’s using a Peacekeeper’s helmet to look at her makeup, pushing her hair up as if it’ll go any higher.

Jeongin glares down at the ground before looking around him.

The other Tributes are here. 

1 is far in the front, and even though they’re in the distance, Jeongin can see the gold they wear from where he is at the back. They almost look naked, but Jeongin doubts it. Though he truly wouldn’t put it past the stylists to do that. They shine even in the dark of the tunnel they’re in.

District 2 look like knights. Chainmail, steel helmets at the front of their carriage, metal shining almost as much as District 1. The girl wears a large chest plate with something engraved at the front, and the boy wears something similar that covers his arm.

District 3 looks ridiculous. They have black bodysuits on with circuitry running throughout it that have small panels and lights that flash in an obnoxious way.

There seems to be a theme this year- shining. 

He takes in all of the costumes, shaking his head a bit as he takes in all of the flashing lights. He hates it. It gives him a headache.

The only outlier is District 7.

The boy- Mingi, Jeongin remembers- wears a moss green suit with something that almost resembles armor. It’s similar to District 2, but different somehow- some way he can't explain. The armor looks natural on him. His huge frame, paired with his height- he looks like some kind of forest guardian that Jeongin is sure Minho told him about in a story when he was little. He has leather boots, leather gloves that look like they’re made to handle wood, and he bears a comically large axe.

The girl looks like royalty. She wears a large headdress of leaves and branches, her brown hair blending into it perfectly, almost like they dyed it to be the same color. Her dress is shiny the way Irelyn’s is, but it’s poofy from the waist down, tulle getting caught on the chariot as she tries to step in. There are cherry blossoms layered throughout, Jeongin realizes- the pink standing out amongst the green and brown the two of them wear.

Mingi is staring at him.

Jeongin looks at him briefly before averting his eyes, staring back down at the ground.

There’s no doubt in his mind that Mingi, along with the other tributes here, see him as their first target. He’d made a spectacle of showing how pathetic he is, and here he is dressed as a fucking prey animal right in front of them.

He’s not stupid. It makes Irelyn look untouchable. But it makes him sick to his fucking stomach.

He climbs into the chariot next to Irelyn, allowing her to wrap her arm around his for the second time.

“Remember what Silas said,” she tells him softly. “Play your part.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, glaring down at the railing in front of him.

“Silas also said not to talk down to me,” he argues softly.

“She said not to talk down about you. I’ll talk to you however I damn well please,” Irelyn hisses under her breath. “Just don’t make me look more pathetic than you already have.”

Jeongin can’t really argue with that.

They hear a snicker from in front of them.

One of the tributes from District 9, dressed in gold glitter, with a cloak that reaches the floor as if it’s for some kind of grand reveal that Jeongin is sure he won’t be able to see.

“You two look completely different. Your mentor’s already decided who’s winning, I see,” he says, chuckling to himself. “You look as sad as you sounded on Reaping day.”

Jeongin can only stare at the railing in front of him.

Irelyn, however, is not pushed around easily.

“Shut the fuck up, 9,” she hisses, glaring daggers into the boy in front of them. “You look like you’re ready to die first in the Arena. What is that material- actual straw? Your stylist has no idea what she’s doing, especially sending you out to the Capitol covering your scrawny little body,” she says.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” The boy says, climbing off his chariot.

“You heard me. You want to die during the training days? I’m sure I can arrange it.” Irelyn stands her ground, clenching her fist at her side and gripping Jeongin’s arm. “Speak to him like that again, I dare you. You’ll be home in a body bag before we even step foot in the arena,” she says.

Either Irelyn is extremely good at playing her role, or she almost- almost- cares about Jeongin.

A Peacekeeper is there in a moments notice, shoving the boy back onto his chariot with little grace. A second one grabs at Irelyn’s wrist roughly. She goes to wrench it away, but stops when he tightens his grip.

Jeongin clenches his eyes shut in anticipation, but nothing comes.

Irelyn relaxes once she’s released, shoving the pieces of her hair back once more. It almost seems like a nervous tick at this point, the way she fusses with her hair and fixes her makeup constantly.

Then, he hears the music.

It’s Panem’s anthem- though mocked through the districts, it has a certain polish here in the Capitol that Jeongin can’t quite place his finger on.

The large doors open, and the first chariot rolls out.

There’s almost five entire minutes before the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one.

Finally, it’s 10’s turn.

The horses start off, and Jeongin wraps his arm around Irelyn’s waist to keep her steady, holding himself in place with the handle in front of them.

Irelyn is in character immediately. She waves her hand, smiling at the Capitol citizens like someone born in the wrong place at the wrong time. She leans into Jeongin confidently, like a brother she was meant to protect.

Jeongin is frozen.

It’s loud. That’s the only thing going through his mind at that moment.

He hates loud noises. He’s shocked he hasn’t curled up on the floor of the carriage at this point.

He flinches as fireworks pop all around him. His ears ring as the music blasts through the streets.

“Straighten your back,” Irelyn says through her smile. “Keep your hand on my waist. Perfect. Don’t smile- you don’t need to smile. It’s better if you don’t,” she coaches. “There you go. Wave. You won’t fall off, I promise.”

Jeongin does as she tells him. He waves to the best of his ability, keeping his hand wrapped around the younger girl. At first it was for stability, but now it’s for comfort. 

His own, or Irelyn’s, he’s not sure.

The cameras zoom in on them as they enter. Jeongin does his best not to take the spotlight away from Irelyn. But the camera loves him as much as it loves her, it seems.

They show Jeongin constantly as they ride through the streets. He can see himself and it’s laughable. He’s sure the boys back home would laugh at him, if he was someone else.

If he wasn’t Jeongin. If he wasn’t their baby brother. If he wasn’t going to die this week.

“And here are Yang Jeongin and Irelyn Crest of District 10!” A commentator says over the loudspeakers. “Dressed as a deer and a fox! Not something you would expect from District 10,” he says. “I almost expected cows again- remember last year? That was a nightmare! But these costumes seem to fit our tributes much more. They look absolutely perfect, don’t you agree?” He says, laughing confidently. “The fawn and his protector! I’m sure Irelyn here will put up a fight to keep him alive as long as she can! Her cousin- Silas- is their mentor this year! Very big year for the Crest family, indeed.”

Jeongin can feel his face go red, even if the audience can’t see it due to the gunk covering his face. He’s humiliated- made out to be some helpless little kid.

Their entire introduction is set up to condemn Jeongin to death. Of course it is.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Silas herself had written it.

His grip on Irelyn’s waist tightens ever so slightly.

Irelyn sees the opportunity and takes it.

She slips her own arm around under his, hugging him around the waist while still smiling and waving.

Jeongin can’t tell if she’s trying to comfort him or confirm the announcer’s description.

But he’ll take the comfort; it terrifies him either way.

Chapter Text

Once they’ve finally made their way back to the rooms, Jeongin is exhausted.

The noises, the lights, the people, it’s taken everything out of him. His eyes still burn from the lights of the Capitol.

Irelyn seems more excited than she has the entire time they’ve been here.

“We were perfect, weren’t we? Didn’t we knock them all dead? They love us!” She yells, collapsing onto the couch. Silas watches her quietly, an amused expression on her face.

If Jeongin didn’t think better, he would almost say she’s proud of them.

“You set us up beautifully,” she admits, heading straight for another bottle and pouring herself a glass.

She downs it.

Then another.

Then another.

Something in her eyes leaves Jeongin thinking she has more she wants to say, but knows that it won’t help them. Or maybe she just can’t bring herself to do it.

Silas looks at Jeongin like she’s seeing him for the first time. 

Like she’s recognizing him.

He’s always been told he looks like Chan when he was younger. 

Something flickers across her face. Whether it’s guilt or a realization, Jeongin doesn’t know.

She downs another glass of whiskey.

Jeongin ignores it- the look, the way she almost seems heartbroken. He knows she probably isn’t. She’s been cold to everyone in their District but Irelyn ever since she got back from her games.

He sits down on the couch as far away from Irelyn as he can, completely on the edge of his seat. He can’t relax after this. After his brothers saw him dressed as a fucking deer, after they saw how pathetic it was that he needed Irelyn next to him. How he desperately sought any kind of comfort from her.

Silas sits down in the big arm chair with her fifth glass- not shooting it this time, just sipping it. She must be drunk enough now.

“Training days start tomorrow. Irelyn- you already know how to use a knife. There will be throwing knives in the training center, but that doesn’t mean there will be knives in the arena. You two are lucky- they finally built an actual arena. No more scouting some random location in the wilderness. But do you know what that means?” She asks.

Jeongin shakes his head. Irelyn leans forward with interest.

“The arena could be anything. Caverns, an ocean, a huge forest- hell, maybe even just a regular open field with nowhere to hide. You two need to do as much preparation as you possibly can. You need to be ready for anything the Gamemakers can throw at you,” she said. 

Jeongin feels sick to his stomach.

Of course his games are the first when there’s finally an arena that they can control. Where they can do whatever they want. Theoretically, they could set the arena on fire and the games would last a night, maybe less.

He remembers the first time they saw the cornucopia. It had been Silas’ first games- the 17th. A huge structure in the middle of a field, filled with nothing but weapons. Huge hunting knives,  axes, bow and arrows, even a damn trident.

They’d provided weapons to tributes before- mainly knives- but they’d had a problem with the tributes taking themselves out before the games had even started. The fifteenth and sixteenth games, the tributes had to get creative with their weapons. Some used tiny rocks to sharpen sticks into spears, some used huge branches or stones to bludgeon their opponents, some drowned them in streams.

The cornucopia that year had been a big deal in the Capitol. And in 10.

He remembers Minho covering his eyes when Chan collapsed in the square. He remembers being ushered off with Changbin to a different area with the other younger ones- Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung- while Minho and Hyunjin held Chan and tried to calm him down.

He remembers hearing Chan begging the other tributes not to make her suffer while Changbin did his best to cover his ears.

He hadn’t put two and two together at the time. But Chan had been talking about Silas.

They haven’t spoken since.

Since then, the cornucopia has been filled with other essentials as well. Food, drinking water, blankets. Anything to make the games last longer than two or three days.

“Don’t trust the Careers. Especially you, Irelyn. 1, 2, and 4? They’re willing to sacrifice anyone if it means bringing pride to their District. You stay away from them- both of you,” she says.

It’s the first piece of advice aimed more at Irelyn than Jeongin. He appreciates that.

“Stick around the middle Districts. 5, 6, 9- they’ll be good allies for you. 11 and 12 are useless. Two twelve year olds, a fourteen year old, and a seventeen year old skinnier than Innie here,” she says.

“Don’t call me that,” Jeongin snaps.

He’s speaking without thinking, glaring at Silas like he could set her on fire with just her mind.

Silas is speechless for the first time.

“You don’t call me that. Only my brothers call me that,” he says, standing his ground. “You’re not them.”

Silas looks at him with recognition in her eyes once more. It’s sadder this time. She almost looks like a scared teenager.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” she amends. “Jeongin it is. I won’t say it again.”

And she sounds genuine. Like she’s knows she’s struck the only nerve Jeongin has.

Jeongin relaxes a bit and goes back to staring at the floor.

He wants to apologize for snapping, but he can’t bring himself to.

All the things she’s said to him, all of the condescending nicknames, all of the smirks and smug looks she’s thrown his way- none of it bothers him as much as her calling him Innie.

Irelyn must feel the tension between them, because she’s quick to change the subject.

“9 won’t work. That boy was mean to Jeongin,” she says.

“What did you do?” Silas says, exasperated as if this isn’t the first time they’ve had a similar conversation.

Jeongin can feel Silas’ frustration radiating off of her.

“I told him I’d send him home in a box before the games even start. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Protect Jeongin?” She asks.

“Protect him, yes. Not threaten other tributes before you’ve even had a chance to make an alliance with them, Irelyn,” Silas snaps. “It’s fine. 9’s out. There are others. 7 has a good strong boy- what was his name?”

“Mingi,” Jeongin provides almost immediately. “He was staring at me in the tunnel.”

Silas hums.

“Let’s shoot for Mingi, then, hm? Him and the girl from 7. They’ll be good until the end,” she affirms.

Silas stands, sipping on her whiskey once more.

“Lights out in ten. Go wash the makeup off and get in your pajamas- and actually change this time, Jeongin,” she says, shuffling off to her room. She nearly loses her balance, but steadies herself immediately and glances back to see if they noticed. If Irelyn noticed.

She’s clearly more drunk than she lets on.

Irelyn watches her leave, clenching her jaw tightly.

“Thank you,” Jeongin says. “For… you know. What you said to that boy.”

Irelyn doesn’t say anything. She stares in the direction that her cousin wandered off in.

“Irelyn?” Jeongin asks, nudging her knee lightly.

“What?” Irelyn says, looking back at him. She looks concerned. 

Jeongin knows it’s not concern she has for him.

“Is… she okay?” He asks. As much as he doesn’t like Irelyn, he can’t help but feel a little bad for her. She’s clearly dealt with Silas for a while. He knows she spends most of her days with her cousin back home- doing what, he’s not sure, since Victors don’t have to work and it isn’t like Silas is itching to be in town.

Irelyn looks conflicted. Like she wants to ask for Jeongin’s help, but knows it’s no use anyway.

“She always gets like this during the Games. I’ve never seen it up close, but… She’ll be fine,” she assures. “When she gets home, she won’t drink so much.”

Jeongin can’t help but notice Irelyn didn’t say when we get home.

“Go to bed already. And wipe that makeup off- you look ridiculous,” she mutters, heading off to bed herself.

Jeongin stares after her.

He gets up after a long moment, walking to his own bedroom.

Peeling off the clothes takes effort. The headdress he wears is practically sewn into his head, and it takes him ages to finally rip it off. He lays the clothes out on the small table in his room before marching off to the bathroom.

He’s actually excited to shower.

It takes five rounds of shampoo to get the gunk out of his hair. He shakes it off once it’s finally gone, letting the water splash around the bathroom. It’ll dry by morning, he’s sure. When he steps out, the makeup has barely moved.

He glares at himself in the mirror as he scrubs his face with a washcloth.

He thinks about his brothers looking at him. How the announcer told the world “look at our sacrifice!” with all the confidence in the world that he was right. How they’re feeling about their little brother being portrayed as an easy target. How they all know it’s exactly what he is.

He glares harder.

He won’t die that way. He’ll die protecting someone else. If he survives, it’ll be because he fought the way they taught him to. If he dies, it’ll be on his terms. He’ll die the way Chan would want him to- quickly and painlessly, and most importantly, selflessly.

Chan would want him to think about other people. Minho would want him to protect the weakest among them, like he did. Changbin would want him to fight. Hyunjin would want him to care. Jisung would want him to scream. Felix would want him to stay intact. Seungmin would want him not to suffer.

He’ll do it. He won’t be just another tribute destined for slaughter.

He climbs into bed, curling up underneath the covers. Hoping that his brothers can hear his promise.

Chapter Text

The ride to the training center the next morning is brutal on Jeongin’s head.

Irelyn is talking Silas’ ear off as she continues drinking, talking about her strategies, how excited she is to show off her skills, how she’s going to get them all fighting to be their allies without even saying a word. All Jeongin can do is sit in his seat silently, fidgeting with his fingers.

They’re wearing matching outfits, which Jeongin is fine with- he doesn’t care about how he appears right now. All he can be thankful for is that he doesn’t look like a scared fawn.

Irelyn hates that they’re matching.

They’ve got green on from head to toe- soft pants that feel like you can move easily in them, a cotton t-shirt, and even green combat boots.

He has no idea what the boots are for. He wanted to ditch them the second he put them on. Irelyn thinks they’re stylish.

Silas says only three sentences as they pull up and the Peacekeepers open the doors for them.

“Don’t start any fights. Try to make allies. Intimidate them to the best of your ability.”

They walk into a room that’s all black, with bright white lights shining down on them.

It’s clean- too clean. Like the blood’s been scrubbed from the walls in order to hide the secrets of the building.

The tributes stand in a line, and Jeongin and Irelyn fall in place among them. They stand between the boy from 9 and the girl from 11- Irelyn purposefully placing herself between the boy and Jeongin. 

The girl from 11 is the one seventeen year old Silas mentioned, and Jeongin can see what Silas meant when she described her.

She’s tiny. Terrified. Skin and bones with no muscle whatsoever.

11 wears a lighter green color than Jeongin and Irelyn wear. The same outfit, just a different color.

9 wears an awful yellow that hurts his eyes. He almost feels bad for them.

The man in charge explains what they’re there for. Training for the arena. He explains each section of the room- plant identification, weaponry, tying knots. He emphasizes not to forget how important the survival sections of the center are.

“Remember- not even I know what the arena will look like this year. You should be prepared for anything,” he says, echoing Silas’ sentiment from yesterday.

He releases the tributes, and Irelyn wraps her hand around Jeongin’s, yanking him away as fast as she possibly can so they can get away from District 9 before any fights start.

She takes Jeongin over to the throwing knives immediately.

She doesn’t bother explaining what she’s doing for Jeongin- simply handing him knives and insisting he try it. He’s awful at it, no surprise about that.

It doesn’t help that the targets they’re using are silhouettes of people.

Irelyn clearly gets frustrated with him quickly, because she yanks the knives back from him.

“Go focus on learning to tie some knots, Jeongin,” she says, huffing. “No one’s over there anyway. You’ll be okay,” she tells him, though it’s less of a comfort than she thinks it is.

He obeys, heading over to the knot tying section.

The clanging of the weapons in the room hitting targets makes it difficult for him to focus.

There’s not a trainer there. Just a small guidebook on which knots are good for what, and how to tie them.

He does his best, but he’s not good at this, either.

He glances around- hoping for someone near, a trainer, preferably- so he can ask for help. Pictures aren’t helpful for him. He needs to hear someone explain it.

He sees Mingi from where he’s at- standing next to his District partner over where the axes are located.

Not on a screen or from far away, Jeongin can see how Mingi actually looks now.

He’s huge. Six feet, at least. His shoulders are broad and tight, and his muscles poke out as if the Capitol gave him a shirt too small on purpose.

Despite all of that, though- the way he moves is gentle.

His eyes are soft. He’s smiling. He’s guiding the girl’s hands and arms with perfect precision without invading her space. 

He looks like Chan.

Not physically. Chan- though he has a lot of muscle- is shorter. Jeongin is even taller than Chan, if only by an inch or two. Chan has a soft face with soft features that you can trust.

Mingi’s face is all sharp edges. His jawline juts out slightly, his brow bone a clear defining feature of his face. But somehow, Jeongin can tell, this is Chan. The way he’s gentle about corrections, praising his District partner when she throws the axe just so.

It’s the same way Chan had spoken to him the first day with the cows. Jeongin- ten years old, brand new to Chan’s little family, riding on Chan’s back as he reached out to touch one of the cows in the fields as Chan gently encouraged him.

He averts his eyes when he feels them well with tears.

He stands there at the knot tying station, his bottom lip trembling. He digs his fingernails into his palms as hard as he can, as if he can force himself to stop crying by sheer force of will.

He jumps when there’s a hand on his shoulder.

He flinches back, looking up at the person who would disturb him right then, when he’s trying to gather himself.

It’s Mingi.

“Hey,” he says softly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Do you need some help?” He asks.

“What?” Jeongin says, still doing his best to push the tears down.

“Help? With the knots?” Mingi asks, nodding to the station in front of them.

If Mingi notices his tears, he’s decent enough not to say anything about them.

Jeongin looks back down at the rope he’d abandoned on the table.

“Yes, um… yes,” he says quietly, wiping at his eyes quickly. “I can’t figure this one out,” he says, pointing down to the book.

“A bowline,” Mingi says, reading it. “Those are easy. We use them back home- I could tie one in my sleep,” he says.

It’s not condescending. It’s not meant to make Jeongin feel stupid.

It’s meant to comfort.

And it does.

Jeongin hates how good it feels.

Mingi helps him gently, showing him the knot. The loop he makes in the knot, threading the tail into it, wrapping it around the other end of the rope, pulling it back through the loop.

It’s easy, now that someone’s telling him exactly how to do it. Now that he’s not looking at a stupid faded drawing.

“There you go,” Mingi says, rubbing the small of Jeongin’s back. “Perfect. Now you’ve just got to practice to get it in your head.”

Jeongin feels sick.

He feels angry.

He puts the rope back on the table, scowling down at it as if the knot is the thing that got him in these stupid games. As if it voted him in. As if it took him away from his brothers.

Away from home.

“Thanks,” he says softly, bitterly.

“Hey- what’s wrong? You okay?” Mingi asks.

“I’m fine. I just… I need to find my partner,” Jeongin mutters angrily, clenching his fists at his sides as he walks away, his eyes fixed on the ground as if it will help.

He finds Irelyn again- this time at the swords.

She’s pathetic with them.

Her face is red as she clumsily swings the sword around, losing every fight with the trainer. She glances around, shrinking back as some of the Careers snicker at her.

Maybe it’s wrong, for Jeongin to feel a little bit of joy in this. In finally seeing Irelyn fail at something, the thing he’s been doing since he got here. 

But he can’t help it.

Throughout the day, Mingi hovers.

Every time Jeongin switches stations, Mingi’s only a few steps behind. He offers subtle advice every now and then, mostly to do with safety. At the throwing knives (Irelyn had insisted on going back to make herself feel better after spectacularly sucking with a sword) Mingi gently corrects his grip with a “please don’t cut yourself.” At the axes, Mingi takes the heaviest one from Jeongin and hands him a lighter one, telling him not to throw his back out with only a few days before the games. He offers water and a granola bar when Jeongin sits down. He checks in with his District partner without saying anything, placing a hand on the small of her back the way he had with Jeongin. He can feel Jeongin’s annoyance with him and doesn’t push.

But he doesn’t leave, either.

It’s a tactic someone from back home uses with him often. After a rough day in town, after getting beaten by a Peacekeeper for "mouthing off," after a fight with one of his brothers.

He hovers ever so slightly. Not enough to be annoying and intrusive, but enough to say “I’m here when you need me.”

At first, Jeongin is annoyed.

Then he’s confused.

Chan wouldn’t do that. Chan gives people space when they ask for (or, in this case, demand) it. Chan would put his foot down and say “enough is enough” when he’s decided that the space is more harm than good.

Then, he realizes exactly who Mingi actually reminds him of.

Minho.

Minho, who’d found him when his parents didn’t come home, when he was out wandering in the cold that night. Minho, who holds him tight after a nightmare. Minho, who hovers around the youngest ones when things get too loud at home. Minho, who’s taken care of Jeongin for eight years.

Mingi catches him staring.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t smile, or wave, or acknowledge Jeongin at all.

He looks at him like he understands.

Jeongin remembers the boys he’d hugged and kissed goodbye during his reaping. And maybe they weren’t like Jeongin’s family.

But maybe they were the closest thing to it.

Jeongin stands next to Irelyn during the lecture on poisonous berries. The trainer’s voice drags, like she’s bored, like she was forced to do this.

And Jeongin’s world is falling apart.

Mingi comes up beside him, but doesn’t touch him this time. Jeongin is thankful for that.

He hands Jeongin a water bottle, his smile soft and comforting.

Just like Minho’s.

“You need water. Keep hydrated,” is all he says.

Jeongin stares after him as he walks away.

He panics.

He doesn’t want to replace Minho.

He doesn’t want someone new. He wants Minho. He wants Chan. He wants home.

Tears spill down his face as he does his best to calm himself down without causing a scene. The lecture ends, and the tributes are released to go to other stations.

Jeongin doesn’t remember the rest of training.

He remembers the darkness of the car. He remembers the smell of sweat on his face. He remembers the muffled voices of the people speaking around him.

He doesn’t remember the actual ride home. He doesn’t remember walking back into the apartment, he doesn’t remember sitting at the dinner table, he doesn’t remember fixing himself a plate of food.

Irelyn snaps in front of his face.

He blinks, flinching back from it.

When he comes back to his body, he’s lightheaded and his throat is tight.

“Can you stop zoning out? It’s getting annoying,” she complains. “Silas is talking to you. Answer her.”

“Sorry, what was it?” Jeongin asks, looking to Silas.

“That’s okay,” Silas says, glancing to Irelyn with a slightly annoyed look on her face. “How did the day with Mingi go? Irelyn said he didn’t talk much to the two of you, but he was around. Did you talk to him about an alliance?”

Irelyn scoffs softly before Jeongin can even piece together a sentence.

“Mingi was following Jeongin around like a worried hen,” she says. “Clearly someone’s making friends. Did you follow him around like a lost puppy, too, or just me?”

Jeongin’s fist clenches around the knife he’s holding. He wishes one of those throwing knives was in his hand so he could toss it into Irelyn’s neck.

When he realizes what he’s just thought, it terrifies him. He shakes it out of his head.

“We talked a little. Nothing about alliances, though,” he answers.

Silas looks at him for a long time.

Like she can recognize the look in his eyes. Like she knows what he’s just thought about her little cousin.

And like she doesn’t blame him for it.

“Alright,” she says, nodding. “But contact is the first step. You still have another two days to really lock in alliances, so don’t be too concerned, but don’t put it off. Soon, everyone will be looking for targets rather than friends,” she reasons.

“Talk to him tomorrow, Jeongin. We need him on our side. Did you see him throwing that axe? We need someone that can match my level of aim,” Irelyn says.

“Or maybe someone that can actually handle a sword,” Jeongin bites back. 

“Screw you! You did nothing the entire day but watch me show off! So I’m bad at one thing, well you’re bad at everything! Mingi had to show you how to tie a fucking knot- what, you can’t read? There was a book with pictures in front of you!” Irelyn shouts back. Her insults have heightened immediately- she's clearly humiliated with the fact that Jeongin saw her with the swords, along with the Careers.

“If you think you’re so great at it, maybe you should give the knots a go tomorrow instead of embarrassing yourself and getting mad at me for not doing anything!” Jeongin argues back.

“Me embarrassing myself?! Did you see the way you threw those knives?! They didn’t even reach the targets, they landed on the ground!” Irelyn insults, throwing her arms in the air as if she’s annoyed even having this conversation.

“Just because you can throw a stupid knife doesn’t mean anyone’s intimidated by you!” Jeongin yells.

“If they aren’t intimidated by me it’s because they know I’m stuck with the worst tribute in history! They all know I’m here with the little weakling that wouldn’t stop crying on stage! If you want to make it through these games, you have to stop being so fucking pathetic!” Irelyn screams.

“Enough!” Silas snaps, slamming her hands on the table.

Both teenagers stop.

“This is not the time to be blaming each other! You are meant to be working together! If either of you want to go home, you’ll learn to play to each other’s strengths- not tear down your weaknesses! Both of you need to buck up and stop thinking of yourselves! You need each other to live longer than the first day!” Silas sighs when she’s done, exasperated and exhausted.

Irelyn’s breath catches.

It’s the first time Silas has admitted that she doesn’t know if Irelyn will actually have a chance in the arena.

“That’s not what I meant,” Silas amends quickly, looking at Irelyn.

Irelyn’s eyes shine.

She throws her fork down, storming out of the room.

Jeongin watches her go. Silas groans loudly, kicking the leg of the table. Jeongin jumps at the noise.

“Go to bed,” Silas orders.

Jeongin listens.

He shuts the door and climbs into bed without even taking his shoes off.

He shouldn’t have snapped at Irelyn. He knows that.

She’s just scared. She wants to win. She wants to go home. 

She’s just a kid.

But Jeongin is a kid, too, dammit. He has a family he wants to return to as well.

His thoughts drift back to Mingi, who also has a family. Then they drift back to Minho.

He shoves his face in his pillow, screaming his head off into it the way he used to after a fight with Seungmin.

He can’t let himself get attached. Not to Irelyn, not to Mingi, not to anyone.

He thinks about how Mingi had taken care of him. Of how it echoed all the same sentiments of Minho. Of how devastated he would be if Minho was here instead of Jeongin.

He can’t get attached.

He won’t even have a chance if he starts to care.

Chapter Text

The next morning is tense to say the least.

Jeongin avoids Irelyn’s eyes and Irelyn avoids Silas’s.

Like magnets flipped the wrong way, constantly pushing the other in the opposite direction.

It’s an endless battle between the three of them. Jeongin averts his eyes the second he sees Irelyn’s, looking down at the eggs in front of him. Irelyn huffs and avoids looking at Silas entirely, who is trying endlessly to get Irelyn to look at her without saying a thing.

They’re dressed in the same clothes they wore yesterday.

It’s sticky and hot, but Jeongin tries not to mind it too much. He just wants the day to be over already.

Silas says the first thing she’s said all morning in the ride over to the training center.

“Remember to try and make some allies today. Yesterday was almost a wash, we need people on our side today,” she says softly. She never looks at Jeongin as she says it. Her eyes are focused on Irelyn entirely.

Irelyn glares down at the ground. Jeongin just nods.

“Just… try to be nice, okay? That’s it,” Silas tries again. “You don’t have to focus on showing off your skills today. Make some friends,” she says.

Friends. Not allies.

It almost sounds like a parent talking to a child.

Irelyn clambers out of the van the second a Peacekeeper opens the door, climbing over Jeongin as quickly as she can.

Silas huffs softly, her cheeks pushed out a bit as the air leaves her mouth.

“I’ll… try and talk to her,” Jeongin offers quietly.

Silas looks up at him from where she sits- silent, small, alone.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “Just look out for her today. That’s all I ask.”

Jeongin nods.

The second training day starts the same as the first.

The trainer in charge gives them the same speech. They stand in the same line. Jeongin avoids 9 as quickly as he can.

Irelyn angrily throws axes the second she gets the chance.

It’s a little funny- seeing her toss axes that miss the targets almost every time. But then he remembers that she’s angry with him, with Silas, and wonders if she’s picturing their faces on the targets as she throws them.

Jeongin stands around awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

He could try the knots again. He still needs practice with those.

He could try the plant section. He was always good with identifying plants back home. 

Hell, he’ll even take the knives at this point. But all he does is stand in the middle of the room, lost without Irelyn to guide him.

Mingi waves him over to the section of the room with the list of poisonous berries.

He hates how easily he listens. How clearly he needed someone to tell him what to do.

“Hey, Jeongin,” Mingi says, smiling at him as he approaches. “You wanna help me with this? I’m awful with plants- I mostly focus on trees, and the different types of barks aren’t exactly going to be helpful,” he says, though it seems like he’s mentioning it mostly to make Jeongin feel better about himself than he is genuinely asking for help.

Jeongin nods eagerly nonetheless.

He helps Mingi identify the differences in the berries- nightlock, blueberries, huckleberries.
He explains that anything that looks remotely like a blueberry will likely be poisonous in the arena, and you can tell the difference if you cut them open and look at the color on the inside. Mingi seems genuinely interested- almost taking notes in his head.

Jeongin sees Irelyn glance over at them from the corner of his eye before landing a throwing 

knife right in the heart of the target in front of her.

He follows Mingi around like a duckling after that.

They head toward the section meant for camouflaging. Jeongin is a natural.

He assumes it’s partly because he watches Hyunjin paint back home when he’s bored. The boys tend to save up for paint for his birthday, but they can get different pigments from berries and mashed up plants throughout town, and it always makes the room smell amazing. Hyunjin narrates as he paints, and Jeongin finds himself doing something similar for Mingi.

Mingi watches like he’s proud of him.

It’s so similar to Minho that it hurts. Nothing like the strong reassurance Chan gives. This is quiet pride, support from a distance, but ready to step in at any moment rather than guiding him the entire time.

“You’re good at disappearing,” he compliments, looking at his arm as he does his best to fade it into the wooden block on the table- using the different texturing methods Jinnie had taught him when he hadn’t really been teaching.

Jeongin tries not to blush at the compliment.

Where Irelyn would mean it as an insult, Mingi means it as a compliment.

He means it in a way that Jeongin is good at this. That it’s a strength he has. That it’s something he can use.

The stealth section goes much in the same way.

Jeongin is light-footed, which is something he knows. He’s used that to steal small pieces of bread from their local bakery out of their dumpster, to sneak into the bookstore back home to bring Seungmin books he thinks he’d like, to steal away into Minho’s room without waking anyone else when he’s had a nightmare.

He surprises three different trainers by tagging them on the shoulder before they can catch him.

He surprises Mingi.

“Jesus, Jeongin- you’re sneakier than Wooyoung trying to steal snacks,” he laughs as Jeongin makes his way back to them.

Mingi must catch the confused look on Jeongin’s face. He blinks- hard- as if trying to hold back tears.

He’s better than Jeongin at that.

“Ah… Wooyoung is someone from back home,” he explains himself softly, smiling sadly down at the floor. “Shouldn’t have brought it up, sorry. My point is- you’re sneaky. That’s great,” he says, patting Jeongin’s shoulder gently.

Jeongin looks at him with understanding.

He tries to tell Mingi he gets it without telling him. A look that says “you don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”

He doesn’t know if it comes across the way he wants it to, but Mingi leads him away anyway.

Mingi sits him down on a bench while he walks off to get snacks and some water for the two of them.

Jeongin hasn’t realized it til now, but he’s starving.

He hadn’t eaten anything at dinner last night or at breakfast that morning, so when Mingi hands him the small granola bar, he eats like he hasn’t in days. He downs the water so quickly that Mingi offers him his own- which Jeongin is hesitant to take, but he does it anyway.

Mingi eats his own granola bar slowly, almost as if waiting to see if Jeongin wants the rest of it.

Which he does. 

He accepts it with little grace, scarfing that down the second it’s offered to him as well.

Jeongin remembers, then, what he’s supposed to talk to Mingi about.

He’s not sure how to ask it.

Hey- you’re huge and my District partner thinks you have great aim. Would you be willing to pair with the weakest, most pathetic tribute here in order to sacrifice yourself for the girl of 10 to go home instead of you?

He clenches his jaw tightly, closing his eyes and steeling himself to actually ask something like that of him.

He knows from the Reaping footage that Mingi has family he wants to go home to as well. Family that might need him. Family that could greatly benefit from having a Victor around so that they won’t starve themselves.

He feels awful asking anything of Mingi. Especially after he’s been so kind to Jeongin.

“Are you… thinking about allies?” Jeongin finally asks, staring down at the water bottle in his hands. “My mentor mentioned it might be… good to consider that. For now,” he explains as he picks at the hangnail forming on his thumb. “And… you know, I think we could… work together,” he offers finally.

Mingi doesn’t say anything for a long time.

He’s looking at Jeongin gently. Like he’s been waiting for that question all morning. Then, he looks away- at the room surrounding them. The other tributes. The weapons. The trainers.

“You remind me a lot of my friends back home,” he says, finally. “A few of them, actually. Jongho, San, Wooyoung. Jongho and San live with me. They’re brothers,” he explains. “Jongho and Wooyoung still have two more years left in the Reaping. San’s last year is next year. This was my last year,” he explains. 

Jeongin’s grip on the water bottle tightens.

“I try to take care of all three of them, but Wooyoung is a… how did he put it? A “free spirit.” It sounds stupid, but that’s what he calls himself. He likes to wander between houses. Mine, Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s, Yunho’s, and Yeosang’s. He prefers Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s though, I think,” he says.

Jeongin is confused about why Mingi’s telling him all of this, but he doesn’t interrupt.

It seems like it’s something Mingi needs to get off his chest.

“I don’t know what’ll happen to Jongho and San. I don’t know what’s already happened to them. I made sure my parents knew not to throw them out, but… they don’t love having extra mouths to feed, and without me around to make sure they have enough money for it, I doubt it’ll last long,” he says. “I keep thinking about how they would be in the games. How hard it would be for them. They’re good at taking care of themselves, but asking for help has never been their strong suit. So… you know, if they’d been picked, I would hope that someone like me would be around to help them stay on their feet and do their best to get home,” he says.

Mingi finally looks down at Jeongin.

“So I’ll do my best to be for you what I hope someone would be for them,” he promises softly.

Jeongin clenches his jaw tightly, tears welling up in his eyes.

So he was right.

It’s not exactly like his family. But it’s close.

Mingi claps him on the shoulder before he can think too long about it.

They move onto weapons sections- swords (which Jeongin is awful with), knives (which he hasn’t improved with at all), a bow and arrow (Jeongin’s arrow falls out of the bow repeatedly, not even able to properly shoot it), and axes.

Jeongin, surprisingly, isn’t completely hopeless with the axes.

He definitely can’t throw them- not as well as Irelyn somehow manages by the end of the day, and definitely not as well as Mingi, but he can swing them pretty well. Mingi says he might’ve been born in the wrong district- that he was meant to be chopping wood.

It’s the first time Jeongin actually feels like he’s doing something right with a weapon. The first time it feels like he could actually do some damage.

And that scares him to no end.

Jeongin tries to introduce Mingi to Irelyn several times throughout the day, but it never works. Irelyn is avoiding him entirely- which he can’t help but feel like is partly his fault. 

He doesn’t tell Mingi what had happened the night before, but Mingi puts two and two together.

“She’ll get over whatever it is in no time,” he promises, ruffling Jeongin’s hair gently.

Jeongin huffs, nodding slightly. He can only hope so.

Having two allies in the games would be more helpful than one, even if the one is the biggest tribute this year.

When they leave, Jeongin is hesitant to say goodbye to Mingi.

He wants to hug him. Wants to feel some kind of comfort from home- even if it isn’t really from home, even if it’s only someone taking care of him the way Minho did. But he doesn’t.

“See you tomorrow,” he says softly, shuffling off with Irelyn to the exit.

He can feel Mingi’s eyes in the back of his head.

He can feel the silent promise Mingi makes to him. Even though it terrifies him.

Chapter Text

The third day of training passes in a flash. Irelyn still isn’t speaking to Jeongin, but she’s at least standing near him now, which he’s thankful for. He wants Irelyn to have Mingi as an ally as well. It would be beneficial for her, like she’d said.

Mingi helps him more with his aim with the throwing knives. He’s still not good at it, but he’s decent enough to land a hit or two. 

Irelyn glares at him the entire time.

Jeongin is mainly on his own after that. He works on camouflaging, on stealth, on plant identification- all things that aren’t good enough to show the Gamemakers the next day for their private training sessions, but the only things that Jeongin feels slightly successful in.

Mingi and Irelyn show off their strengths easily. Jeongin’s jealous.

They make friends with the girl from District 7- Jocie. She’s only fourteen, but she looks older than Irelyn somehow. Maybe it’s the way her muscles show through her shirt, or the way her face angles in a way that shows she’s lost some of her baby fat already. Jeongin doesn’t know if it’s from starvation or growing too quickly.

He hopes it’s the latter, for her sake.

On the drive back to the apartments, Jeongin almost wants to do nothing in his session.

He wants to sit on the floor and protest the entire thing. He doesn’t want to show that he’s capable of killing. He wants to prove to them that they won’t break him down in any way.

But he knows he won’t do that.

He settles on showing off his camouflage skills and his knot tying ability. He only knows three- a bowline, a half hitch, and a clove hitch- but the training sessions aren’t that long, and it still takes him a minute to get the camouflage exactly right.

He barely sleeps the night before the session.

He eats breakfast- forcing the food into his mouth despite how sick it’s making him- in a tense silence similar to the morning before, but at least this time Irelyn isn’t stabbing her fork into her food as if it’s Silas’s face.

“We need good scores,” Silas tells the two of them- still, her focus is mainly on Irelyn. As if she already knows Jeongin will fail. Or maybe she’s still trying to make up for her previous comment.

“You show off as much as you possibly can. Any skill you have. Throwing knives is the best thing for you, and maybe axes second. Show off how quickly and easily you can move, too. They love agility,” she says. “Jeongin, you show off your stealth. I know you’ve got a lot of it in there somewhere. Show how easy it is for you to hide,” she says to him.

Jeongin nods, fighting the urge to throw up his entire meal.

They ride to the training center in silence.

Irelyn escapes the second she can.

“Jeongin,” Silas says, stopping him from leaving.

He looks up at her- prepared for her to tell him not to fuck this up, not to be such a baby.

“Just do what you’re good at,” she says after a beat of silence. “You don’t need the Gamemakers' approval to survive. You just have to have the strength to do it,” she tells him.

And Jeongin suddenly remembers how low Silas had scored in her year.

They’d given her a 3.

Silas- who was so ruthless in her games, who killed without showing any remorse- had gotten a 3.

And Jeongin suddenly feels a little better about his chances.

He nods to her before leaving the vehicle and following Irelyn inside.

They’re taken to a room where it’s just the two of them. Irelyn and Jeongin, sitting as far apart from each other as possible.

They sit in silence for most of their time there. Both continue to fight to avoid eye contact, the two of them staring at the floor or the ceiling as if they hold the secrets to winning the games.

Jeongin should say something. He needs to apologize. What he’d said was wrong, and he knows that. He shouldn’t have snapped at her the way he had.

Even if she’d been trying to upset him on purpose. Even then.

“Sorry,” Irelyn says first, staring down at the ground.

“What?” Jeongin responds, shocked.

“I said sorry, don’t make me repeat myself,” Irelyn snaps. “Just… I was frustrated. And embarrassed, you were right. It was humiliating- watching everyone see me fail like that. But I shouldn’t have… taken it out on you,” she says.

It feels like Irelyn is speaking from personal experience.

He wonders how often Silas has taken her anger out on Irelyn.

“I’m sorry, too,” Jeongin replies, nodding. “I shouldn’t have snapped back. You were right to be upset with me. But thank you for the apology,” he says softly.

Irelyn huffs softly.

“What’re you gonna do?” She asks. “You practiced the camouflaging a lot yesterday. That’s not going to get you a very high score,” she says.

But it’s meant sincerely this time. Not as a dig.

Jeongin can feel it in the way she looks at him. Almost as if she’s concerned what a low score would mean for him, not just for her.

“I… Yeah, I was planning on that. And… you know, the knot stuff,” he says. “Do you think I should try something else?”

“You’re good at hiding, Jeongin. Use it. Silas said they love agility. You’re not exactly a trapeze artist, but you can get around pretty easily without being caught. Just do your best with that,” she says. 

Jeongin nods quietly, looking down at his feet.

Before he can say anything else, a trainer and a Peacekeeper are there to escort Jeongin into the room.

He’s terrified.

He walks in and it’s just him- which is to be expected- but it’s haunting nonetheless. He tries to keep himself upright as the fear overtakes him, and he doesn’t do a very good job at it.

A trainer tells him his fifteen minutes has started.

He nods and heads off to the camouflage station. He paints his arm to look like the wood beneath it, but it’s awful- streaky, nothing like what he’d practiced. His hands are shaking.

He ties all three knots he knows, glancing up at the group of people staring at him and taking notes on his every move. He clenches his jaw tightly. The sound of the ropes on the wood feel like agony to his ears.

He knows he’s fucking up. He knows this is nothing impressive.

He does his best with the stealth station, but before he can even show how sneaky he can be, his time is up.

He can’t breathe.

The Peacekeeper escorts him back outside to the van as they wait on Irelyn.

She’s practically skipping out to the van.

She’s clearly proud of herself.

The two of them couldn’t look more opposite if they tried.

The three of them sit in the living room of the apartment after the sessions, glaring at the television as they wait for the broadcasting of the scores.

Irelyn chats about her training session to Silas- who’s been sipping on whiskey the entire time since they arrived back- and Silas is clearly happy to have made up with Irelyn without even an apology from either one.

The boys are always made to apologize to each other back home. It’s weird to see a family move on from a fight this easily, but he wonders how often that happens.

How often Irelyn has had to accept that she won’t receive an apology from Silas.

How often Irelyn apologizes for her own behavior hurting Silas.

He wonders if Silas ever offers any kind of forgiveness. If Irelyn ever tells Silas it’s okay that she lashed out.

Jeongin stays silent. He can feel Silas’s gaze on the side of his head as he sits there.

The broadcast finally begins, right before Silas can force him into their conversation.

Both tributes from 1 receive a 10. The boy from 2 receives an 8, and the girl gets a 9. District 4 gets a 7 and a 9. 

Career Districts are always easy to predict.

Mingi gets a 10.

He’s not surprised at all.

It’s almost as if Mingi got that high a score in order to send a message- Don’t even try to mess with me and my allies, or you’ll end up just another tree I’ve cut down with ease.

Jocie gets a 5.

Jeongin can’t help but feel bad for her. But he wonders if she didn’t do well on purpose. He knows she’s skilled- more skilled than Jeongin- so why on Earth would she get a 5?

When it’s their turn, Jeongin closes his eyes.

He receives a 3.

No one says anything.

Jeongin is frozen.

A 3.

Lower than last year’s twelve year old girl from their District.

Silas stares at the screen before putting her hand gently on Jeongin’s knee.

“Remember what I told you,” she says under her breath as Irelyn eagerly waits for her score.

It’s almost like Irelyn’s forgotten about Jeongin’s presence entirely as her score is broadcast to all of Panem.

A 9.

The highest in District 10 history.

Irelyn squeals with delight, jumping up and down, clapping her hands like crazy. Silas joins her celebration not long after.

“I told you! I told you I’d do it!” She says, referencing some kind of old conversation Irelyn and Silas must have had before she’d been Reaped.

“I’m so proud of you,” Silas says, hugging her cousin tight to her chest and kissing her forehead before pulling back and downing the rest of her drink.

She clearly wants another, but she refrains.

Irelyn looks at Jeongin, still sitting and staring at the floor between his feet.

He thinks she must feel at least a little bad now that she’s remembered what her District partner just received. The lost little fawn she’s meant to be protecting.

“It’s… it’s okay, Jeongin,” she says quietly, looking down at the boy on the couch. “Don’t worry. You’ve got me and Mingi. We’ll keep you alive as long as we can,” she promises.

She doesn’t meet his eyes as she says it.

As long as they can.

Until he drags them down, he’s sure.

Until he’s no longer pulling his weight.

Until the ropes and camouflaging aren’t enough. Until real action is needed.

Jeongin stands without saying anything, feeling dizzy. His breathing has gone erratic, but he does his best to control it.

Chan must be so disappointed in him.

Minho must be scared out of his mind for him.

“Jeongin-” Silas calls after him, but it gets no reaction.

He walks into his room and shuts the door quietly, sliding down to the floor of the bedroom against the door. He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms tight around himself, shoving his face into his legs and willing himself with all of his might not to cry.

Everyone is laughing at him. He knows it.

Irelyn would be laughing at him if she wasn’t stuck with him.

His brothers back home know a 3 is a death sentence.

He knows a 3 is a death sentence.

It’s the worst score of the night.

But he remembers what Silas said.

You don’t need the Gamemakers' approval to survive. You just have to have the strength to do it.

He plays that sentence on a loop in his mind, praying for it to be true. But he doesn’t know at what cost that strength will come.

Chapter Text

Jeongin is waxed again.

He thinks surely there’s no way much more hair has grown in the four days since it last happened, but Cassian insists he sees stubble on his legs and under his arms and on his chin. Jeongin has never bothered with shaving his face- he doesn’t grow much of a beard or a mustache, so he’s never seen the point. But having his face shaved by another man that’s determined to make him look as young as possible is something particularly draining for him.

He doesn’t even understand why the waxing was necessary in the first place- even thinking back now, it hadn’t been necessary for his parade outfit, either. They’d fully dressed him head to toe in a suit, and they were doing something similar now. This suit is still on theme as a “deer” for him- a nice soft brown color with white accents all throughout- but it’s not quite as literal this time. He’s thankful for that.

Cassian loves how the brown complements the natural hazel of his eyes.

Jeongin doesn’t see it. All he can focus on is how determined they are to dress him in an outfit specifically designed to mock him.

He breathes easier when it’s time for Liora to do his makeup.

She does something similar to last time- toned down, not as dramatic as Irelyn’s, complimenting his natural pale skin color and even adding some freckles that remind him way too much of Felix.

There’s no headdress this time- thank God- but they do curl his hair again. He looks good with curled hair, Liora tells him over and over again as he flinches away from the heat of the tool they’re using.

Irelyn is dressed in a shorter gown this time- still orange, still loud, her hair matching it perfectly- and poofy at the bottom. The tulle laid underneath it to give it the volume they want is white until it reaches the bottom where it fades into a soft black, perfectly mimicking her fox character.

She wears heels that make her just slightly taller than Jeongin, this a stylish shiny black that only comes up to her ankle instead of all the way up her leg. Her makeup is toned down, but it’s still got a very dramatic flare about it. Her eyes are a bit softer this time, the eyeliner not flicking out dramatically at the end as if to cut someone, but instead a small little corner at the edge of her eye just to make them look a bit longer than they are.

“You look pretty,” Jeongin compliments. Things are still a bit awkward between them- both avoiding each other’s eyes similarly to how they had in the room before their private sessions- especially with the way Jeongin had gone to bed last night, but they’re not uncomfortable. More like two friends meeting after a long time apart.

Haru makes his presence known easily on the couch, clapping his hands in order to get the room’s attention. Jeongin and Irelyn take their places in front of him and Silas- who looks barely coherent with the amount of alcohol she’d had today.

Jeongin guesses it has something to do with the games beginning tomorrow morning.

Haru stares at the two of them, humming a soft tune to himself that sounds somehow familiar to Jeongin. He isn’t sure if it feels comforting, but he feels like it’s supposed to be. 

“Looks good enough to me. Let’s go over your talking points, shall we?” Haru says.

“Isn’t that Silas’ job?” Irelyn asks, looking to her cousin, who’s all but passed out on the couch.

“Typically, yes. We do things a little differently for District 10,” Haru explains. He says it in a soft, understanding way- as if he knows that Silas won’t be able to handle coaching her mentors through this part. As if he’s had to do this several times before.

Jeongin knows Haru has been the stylist for District 10 since Silas’s games at least. He’s older than everyone in the room, so it makes sense that he’d know the drill by now.

Haru’s designs always impress the Capitol. Jeongin remembers several talk shows with him on them, asking why he hasn’t moved up to District 3 or 2 or even 1 at this point. Haru always says his heart is with District 10 with a soft smile on his face, explains that he likes designing for their tributes and wouldn’t trade them- that the tributes of District 10 are moldable and strong, even though they rarely win the games.

Haru goes over their talking points: how Irelyn is prepared to protect Jeongin within the arena, how she’s strong enough to handle anything they throw at them, how she wants Jeongin to be with her at all times.

How Jeongin is scared to start the games.

How Jeongin misses his family back home.

How Jeongin is a lamb set for slaughter.

He goes dizzy at the mention of his brothers. It’s downhill from there. Something inside of him snaps, and all of the grief he’s been trying so hard to push down since the Reaping is brought up again.

He can’t breathe. It feels like the collar around his neck is a noose he’s meant to hang from- something he’s meant to perform as the Capitol audience watches and laughs at his miserable and pathetic nature.

Haru steps into his field of vision with a gentle hand on the back of his neck. Haru squeezes gently.

“Breathe,” he says softly. “These are just talking points. This has nothing to do with you, just your image. Which isn’t you,” he clarifies gently. “This is a different person. An actor. This person is playing it up so that the Capitol will feel sorry for him,” he says.

Jeongin breathes a little easier at that.

It feels like finally, finally, someone is seeing him as something more than a “baby bird.” Something more than a fawn the fox is attempting to protect. Something more than what he’s shown so far.

Jeongin doesn’t touch his eyes, but he blinks back the tears threatening to spill. Haru continues a slow breathing motion, almost willing Jeongin to follow it.

He does.

“Let them root for you, Jeongin,” he says softly. “Let them want you to win. Let the Capitol see someone gentle for a change.”

Jeongin barely registers it before nodding along. 

He wants them to see him as something different. But Haru might have a point.

Allowing the Capitol citizens to see someone not prepared to kill, but someone prepared to go home? That could work.

His breathing slows slightly.

“There we go,” Haru encourages gently, removing his hand from the back of Jeongin’s neck. “Perfect. Good job, Jeongin,” he says.

Jeongin wills himself to believe that Haru actually means that.

As they get ready to leave- Haru sitting lazily on the couch as Cassian and Liora rush around to find all of their things, Irelyn staring at herself in the mirror repeating her talking points over and over again, Jeongin standing hesitantly by the door waiting for instructions- Silas finally approaches him.

She looks and smells drunker than Jeongin has ever seen her.

He hasn’t ever seen much of her between the time she came home and now. He knows that she had attempted to be around in town and even around Chan when she came back into town from her games and her post-game interviews, but he doesn’t truly remember all that much about her past the drunken angry exterior she’d laid out before District 10. Even then, she’d been more composed than the Silas in front of him now.

She lays her arm across his shoulders roughly, squeezing him almost like a hug, but also like a threat.

“You’re adorable, you know. You always have been. Since you were up to my waist,” she tells him, smiling widely at him. “Just adorable. Soft-spoken, terrified of anything that moved. I remember- I remember when you first got home, you know? You remember that?” She asks.

Jeongin just shakes his head.

He usually tries to block that part out.

He hadn’t left Minho’s side for weeks when he’d first come home. He slept in Minho’s bed, curled up against his side like nothing could hurt him if Minho was there. He followed him to the shops, followed him into town, even into work a few times. The Peacekeepers had let it slide a few times- after that first day with Chan, the first time Jeongin had actually touched one of the cows- every time Jeongin showed up, Minho had been met with a bit of grace. They let him follow the older boy around as long as he stayed out of the way.

But what could Silas possibly remember about that?

Silas hums happily either way, giggling to herself before her expression goes dark.

“I’m sorry you were picked,” she says softly, tightening her grip on Jeongin’s neck.

Jeongin knows what she probably means. Sorry you were picked as the sacrifice for my little cousin. Sorry you are the price our District decided to pay.

But then, she adds, softly:

“I’m sorry it was one of Chan’s. He shouldn’t have to go through this again.”

Her smile slips, and for a moment, her eyes are clear. Too clear.

It’s the first time Jeongin feels like she’s fully sober since they officially met. It makes the words she’s said feel like a truth she never meant to let out.

It knocks the breath out of Jeongin’s lungs.

He doesn’t know what the fuck she means by that.

He doesn’t think he wants to know.

She pushes herself off of him as Haru tells them it’s time to leave.

Jeongin has no time to understand what she’s just said before he’s shoved in the back of the van.

Haru makes him repeat his answers to the interview questions until they don’t sound so terrified.

He practices smiling with Liora.

He listens as Irelyn easily impresses Cassian.

He avoids Silas’s eyes.

He listens to the small pieces of advice Haru gives him as best he can.

The television station towers above them like a threat, and Jeongin can’t breathe again.

Chapter Text

All of the tributes are sat in a line with their mentors and their stylists by the time they actually get into the station. District 10 is one of the last to get there, followed quickly by 11 and 12. The other District’s stylists are doing last minute touch ups and checking out their tributes, but Haru stands calmly in front of District 10 with nothing to prove. He knows his designs work well, and he knows he doesn’t have to do anything more to get them the way they need to look.

He notices that a lot of the higher districts have entire teams of people with them. The only ones with one mentor and one stylist between them are the last three Districts. 12’s mentor is Mags Falangan- a mentor from District 4 who won the eleventh games. 11’s mentor is someone Jeongin doesn’t recognize, but he’s pretty sure it’s the victor of the fourteenth games from District 2. He doesn’t look happy to be mentoring such a low standing District.

Their stylists look exactly like Cassian and Liora- over the top, annoyingly Capitol, dressed up for a party they’re likely about to attend after the event.

Jeongin notices that most of the stylists look like Cassian and Liora.

Haru’s the only one in a toned down outfit, with hardly any makeup on his face. 

A lot of the other Tributes from the Career Districts are talking and laughing with each other. They’ve clearly already formed a great alliance. If Jeongin didn’t know any better, he’d almost assume they were all friends.

Irelyn is taken to a mirror by Liora and Cassian when her hair starts falling down- the two of them wanting to poof it up a little bit more. Silas has disappeared to God knows where- likely looking for a bottle of alcohol like the one that had been taken from her when they’d pulled up into the station.

It’s just Haru and Jeongin now.

“Shouldn’t we… keep going over my talking points?” Jeongin asks, looking up to the older man.

“No. Don’t want anyone getting any ideas,” Haru says. “Our image is our own- keep it that way. I don’t want any of the other mentors copying what we’ve decided. People have already tried and it hasn’t looked good for them,” he explains. He’s likely referencing the thousands of talk shows and interviews that go on before the games start. He hasn’t seen any of them so far- not too interested in staring at himself on a screen or learning about the other children he’s going to be stuck in an arena with.

Jeongin just nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he feels his heart rate rise.

His eyes land on Mingi’s, who seems like he’s been staring at Jeongin since he walked in in order to get his attention.

Mingi is wearing a cape which looks ridiculously intricate. It’s got cherry blossoms sewn into the back of it- real ones, he’s pretty sure- to mimic Jocie’s outfit from the parade. He wears shoulder pads that make him look even bigger than he is. There are golden buttons mimicking a storybook prince all the way down his shirt. His hair is slicked back with a little piece at the front. The outfit is all greens and browns with accents of gold and pink fluttered throughout.

It’s like the forest guardian became the prince, which he assumes his stylist was going for.

Mingi must ask to step away for a moment, because the next second he’s walking over to Jeongin.

Jeongin feels like he must be wearing lifts in his shoes or something, because he definitely looks taller.

“Hey,” he says softly to Jeongin, before bowing in greeting to Haru politely.

Haru hums in greeting before his attention is pulled elsewhere. Jeongin almost thinks it’s on purpose. Haru steps away, giving them some semblance of privacy.

“Listen,” Mingi says, keeping his face as neutral as possible. “When the countdown ends and we’re released, run as far away from the center as you can. Just keep running until you can’t anymore,” he says. “I’ll focus on supplies.”

Jeongin looks at him, his eyes wide and confused.

“Keep your face calm, we don’t want them to know we’re talking strategy, it’s against the rules,” Mingi says, smiling as if they’re having a normal conversation.

Jeongin does his best to act natural, but it must not work very well because Mingi positions his body so that no one else can see Jeongin.

Jeongin’s panic just heightens as he’s hidden from view. Mingi doesn’t even really have a plan here- he’s just telling him to run. No supplies, no water, no weapons to defend himself? What is he meant to do?

“Run where?” Jeongin asks. He has no idea what the arena will look like- how is he supposed to know where to go? 

“Anywhere,” Mingi says, nodding. “I’ll find you. I promise. Just run far and fast and find a hiding spot. You stay there until I find you. But I will find you,” he says.

Jeongin just nods.

Just run and hide. He can do that. He’s thrived on that this far.

“Good luck with your interview. And make sure you say hello to your family- they’ll want to hear from you,” Mingi says, patting his arm gently before making his way back to his stylist.

Say hello to your family.

Not goodbye.

Jeongin watches Mingi leave.

His eyes are the same as Minho’s.

Gentle. Protective.

Scared, but controlled.

He’s determined to bring Jeongin home. Even if it costs him his life.

Haru steps back once Mingi’s left.

“What were you two talking about?” He asks casually, keeping his eyes forward.

“Nothing. Nothing, just… saying hi,” Jeongin says quickly- maybe too quickly. He realizes his hands are shaking as he says it and he grips his suit jacket in order to make them stop.

Haru just nods as if he’s telling Jeongin that’s exactly what he’s meant to say.

Jeongin can’t get Mingi’s words out of his head. They’re playing on a loop.

Just run. Just run. Just run.

It won’t work. He knows it won’t work. He’ll be dead the second the first Career gets their hand on a spear.

The interviews with Lucky Flickerman start not long after that.

He can hear the laughter of the studio audience as the tributes go through their interviews. He hears the saw “awwws” as they talk about their home lives and the whooping and cheering as tributes promise to win. He can tell easily who the favorites are. 

Mingi easily charms the crowd. He can tell some of the Capitol ladies are interested in him.

He doesn’t blame them.

Soon enough, it’s Irelyn’s turn.

She struts out on stage with all of the confidence in the world. Jeongin watches from backstage with Haru, Liora, and Cassian.

Silas plugs her ears behind them with her back turned to the television.

She flirts easily with Lucky, teasing him and giggling as he teases back.

They ask her about Jeongin.

She explains that she wants to protect him. That she feels awful that he was chosen, that he knows his family is going to miss him.

Jeongin clenches his fist tightly at his side, and Haru puts a hand on his shoulder.

The crowd “awwws” and cheers for her for thirty seconds.

Her interview finally ends.

It’s only three minutes long, but it feels like a lifetime.

Then it’s Jeongin’s turn.

He has no idea how he’s meant to follow the performance that Irelyn just gave. He doesn’t think he can.

Haru squeezes his shoulder as he walks toward the stage and awaits his cue.

“Next up is our perfect little fawn from District 10- Please welcome, Yang Jeongin!” Lucky says, clapping and cheering along with the Capitol audience.

The second he walks on stage, his brain short circuits and he’s stuck on autopilot.

The crowd is booming. The lights blind him. The music they play makes his ear drums ache.

He shakes Lucky’s hand as he has a seat, glancing around at the crowd, at the cameras, at the lights.

His dress shirt collar chokes him. The chair beneath him is the softest one he’s ever sat down on and it feels right in all of the wrong ways.

He comes to again when he hears his name.

“Jeongin? Did you hear me?” Lucky asks.

“Sorry- Sorry, no. This is… just a lot,” he says softly.

“Yes, I assume life in 10 is not nearly as glamorous?” Lucky asks, lightly teasing him.

Jeongin has to push the anger he feels down.

“No. No, it’s not. What was the question?” He asks.

“I asked how you’re feeling about the games starting tomorrow. Do you and your fox have a strategy?” Lucky asks him, ignoring the “ooohs” from the crowd.

Jeongin forces a small smile. It’s ugly and not at all the cute factor they’re supposed to be going for, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to share that with you, Lucky,” he says quietly.

Lucky just laughs along with the audience. “I don’t think so either, but I figured it was worth a shot, huh? You and Irelyn are so different- how do you think that’s going to work in your favor?” He asks.

“Well… Well, she’s very strong. I’m decent at… hiding. I think that will… work together,” Jeongin answers flatly.

Lucky is clearly not satisfied with that answer, but as a true host, he moves on to the next anyway with flare to keep the audience interested.

He answers that question in much the same way. A clipped, short answer with not much thought or explanation in it.

The crowd is uncomfortable. They don’t know how to react to seeing a child this nervous and this scared.

Tributes are normally much more composed for their interviews. Jeongin is a first for them, he thinks.

“What’s one thing you miss from home, Jeongin?” Lucky asks, his tone having shifted into a softer, more gentle tone to match Jeongin’s.

Jeongin finally looks back to Lucky.

One thing? He can only pick one thing?

He misses everything. He misses the grass, the trees, the animals, his bed, his house.

He misses Minho holding him while he cries, he misses hugging Bang Chan when he’s come back from a long shift, he misses Hyunjin teaching him to paint, Changbin carrying him when he complains about his feet hurting, Seungmin giving him the blanket in the winter, Felix and Jisung telling stupid jokes just to make him laugh.

He misses Seungmin singing him awake way too early in the morning.

He misses Hyunjin snapping at him. Felix braiding his hair against his will. Changbin hugging too tight. Jisung dragging him to the farm to help with the hay bales. Minho forcing him to go on errands with him. Bang Chan forcing him to apologize after every little fight. He misses all the negatives that come with eight boys living in one house together. 

He misses all of it.

“My brothers,” Jeongin answers finally.

“I remember your Reaping. That must have been hard for you,” Lucky says.

Jeongin nods. “It was. It was… really hard for them, too,” he clarifies.

The audience coos at him in such a demeaning way it makes him sick.

“Would you like to say anything to them? You can look right in this camera here,” Lucky says, pointing to a camera focusing in on Jeongin.

Jeongin looks up at the camera, blinking slowly.

“Hi,” he says softly. “I… I miss you guys. I hope you’re not too bored without me around,” he says.

That gets a small laugh from the audience.

“I promise I’ll do my best to come home. I’ll see you soon,” he says, his bottom lip trembling as he does his best to keep from crying.

He hears people in the audience sniffle.

Some are still cooing at him, someone says he’s “adorable,” someone says “oh I really hope he wins.”

Lucky smiles, nodding as he stands to send Jeongin off.

“Yang Jeongin of District 10 everyone! Say goodbye to our little fawn- next time we see him, he’ll be fighting to get back to those brothers of his!” Lucky says.

Jeongin manages a small wave to the crowd, and a smile that doesn’t feel so awkward.

He stumbles slightly off the stage, hearing the audience laugh, but it doesn’t feel like they’re mocking him. It feels like he’s endeared them somehow.

He walks off the stage and feels like he can finally breathe again.

Back in District 10, seven boys hopelessly stare at the huge screen in the square.

The rest of District 10 is completely silent. Even the Peacekeepers have the decency to let them sit in their guilt.

Hyunjin is held tightly together by Changbin, sobbing into his chest. Jisung holds Minho’s hand in a death grip, glancing back and forth from the screen to Minho as he stares dead-eyed at the screen. Seungmin’s ears are plugged and his eyes are shut tight as Felix rubs gentle circles into his back with tears streaming down his own face.

Bang Chan glares at the screen.

“Just come back,” he whispers. “Please. Just come back.”

The words are poison in his mouth- the same thing he’d begged of Silas.

Chapter Text

Haru’s arms are locked around Jeongin’s shoulders the second he leaves the stage.

They’re quickly escorted backstage where the rest of the tributes are and they almost look… disappointed?

He might even say jealous.

But Mingi gleams with pride.

Jeongin smiles back at him before he’s ushered off with the rest of his District team.

“Jeongin! That was amazing!” Liora gushes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “You sounded so good up there! I almost couldn’t even tell it was your first interview, goodness!” She says, squealing with delight.

Jeongin can’t help but smile.

“Thank you,” he says softly, chewing on his bottom lip.

He doesn’t feel like he did anything special. He was just honest.

He wants to go home to his brothers. That was real.

Haru hums his own approval. 

“Couldn’t have written that answer better myself,” he admits. “Use that in the Games. The Capitol is definitely rooting for you now,” he says.

Jeongin tries not to look too pleased as he sees Silas being held up by Irelyn and Cassian to the side.

Irelyn isn’t glaring at him. She just looks… exhausted.

She fans Silas’s face gently, whispering something to her that only her cousin can hear.

“Let’s get the kids back,” Haru says after a beat, ushering them off to the outside of the station and to the van outside.

The tributes he sees are tense but almost at ease- as if they’re trying not to care about how the interviews went for themselves. 

Jeongin plays his own interview on repeat in his head. Wonders whether or not his brothers saw him cry. 

He knows they did. Everyone is made to watch the interviews as well as the Games.

From here on out, if he’s in front of a camera- he’s sure that his brothers are going to see him.

Silas is asleep within minutes of them getting into the van. 

Liora and Cassian begin taking the pins and needles out of Irelyn’s hair, hoping to make things easier for her when they get home.

Haru sits next to Jeongin- still composed enough to not be able to tell what he’s thinking.

“You did good,” he whispers quietly. “You were honest. Honest works best for you- and for the Capitol. They want something real. Someone they can relate to,” Haru tells him.

It’s almost like he’s telling himself that as much as he’s telling Jeongin. Reassuring the both of them that this was the right move.

“Killed the mood, though,” Irelyn says. “I set you up perfectly. Had the crowd eating out of my palm, and you went and cried again,” she says.

Jeongin can tell it’s not him she’s angry with, so he says nothing to her.

Haru cuts her off with a sharp look though.

Even though he’s not the one Irelyn’s anger is targeted at, he still can’t help but think he ruined their chances at something good. At real sponsors, at people liking them.

Haru must feel what he’s thinking.

“The others can pretend all they want,” Haru says. “They want sincerity. And you can give that to them. Just don’t stop.”

Jeongin glances up at him.

“Perfection is out for you kids. The Capitol thrives on having someone to root for. An underdog. And that’s you,” Haru promises him.

Jeongin tries with everything in him to believe that.

They arrive at the apartment buildings quickly, ushering upstairs to start taking their outfits off and cleaning their faces. Cassian helps Jeongin since he’d “wrinkled the suit last time” and washes his hair for him, while Liora focuses on getting Irelyn’s skin crystal clear for the Games tomorrow.

Jeongin sits at the dinner table quietly with Silas slumped over the table while they wait for Irelyn to come back.

Once Irelyn arrives and the other three leave, it’s just them.

Irelyn picks at her food. Jeongin eats like a man starved. 

Silas barely moves.

Once Irelyn’s decided she’s finished with dinner, she lifts Silas gently, coaxing her to stand and helping her to her bed.

Silas hugs Irelyn’s shoulders tightly.

“Love you,” she says softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. Her words are slurred and unnatural, as if she’d started saying them without thinking and couldn’t back out of it.

Irelyn just nods.

She glances back at Jeongin- still eating, still sitting there, now alone- and blinks slowly.

“Try not to get hurt in the bloodbath tomorrow. I’ll try to find you,” she says softly.

She leads Silas to her room after that, not saying anything more.

Jeongin tastes the hurt in her words like iron in his mouth.

He heads to his own room not long after.

He has to get the image of them out of his head.

The final prep for the Games is awful.

He’s woken up by Peacekeepers in his room, shoving a uniform at him that he has to change into in front of them.

Brown pants that are thick enough to keep out small needles. A long-sleeve dark green shirt with the same type of material as the pants along the shoulders and ribs. Brown leather fingerless gloves that go up to his forearms like bracers. Some dark maroon leather boots that are stiff in the ankles- likely to keep them from breaking. And finally, a large green cowl that acts as both a hood and a face mask in one.

The tributes have never had outfits like this before. He’s a bit confused by it.

He assumes the outfit has something to do with the arena. Being the first Games with a unique arena, he’s sure the Gamemakers have something huge planned.

The Peacekeepers escort him alone to the van- no Silas or Irelyn in sight. Not even Liora or Cassian greet him.

He’s terrified, but the Peacekeepers offer no comfort.

No one speaks to him. No one tells him where they’re going.

When they arrive at the hovercraft, Jeongin is stuck with a huge needle that makes him whimper in pain. He can’t imagine what being impaled is going to feel like if he flinches just from the needle.

They equip him with a tracker- explain that it’s how the Capitol is going to know where he is at all times, how they plan to keep at least one camera on him at all times.

Jeongin is smart enough to gather the fact that that means he has to be performing at all times.

After that, Jeongin is knocked out.

When he comes to, though, he’s being wheeled in on a gurney into a venue in a place he’s never seen before. It’s a huge, dry, almost desert-like area. He doesn’t pay too much mind to it, though. He tries to go back to sleep, but as soon as they’re inside, the Peacekeepers lift him off of the gurney and onto his feet so he can walk.

He’s escorted into a small room with a large glass tube in it- his launch room. He doesn’t know how he’s going to force himself into it, but he supposes the Peacekeepers will help with that. Though he’s alone in the room, he doubts there’s no one outside these doors.

The smell of metal not rusted but on its way to be fills his nostrils. The suffocating nature of the glass tube makes his chest tighten. 

When the doors open again, Haru steps through.

He smiles warmly at Jeongin.

He adjusts Jeongin’s clothes without a word- adjusting the cowl, covering his face with the built in mask, tightening the braces on his arms.

Jeongin stands there silently, watching him. Watching the man that has stuck by his District for so many years. Wondering why the hell someone would do such a thing.

“Any questions?” Haru asks him finally, looking relaxed as ever, as if he’s not about to send a child to his death.

Jeongin clenches his jaw tightly.

“Do you really think I have a chance?” He asks.

He’s wondered this all along. If he didn’t have Irelyn or Mingi, would he have a chance? Would he be anything more than a number on a screen?

Haru hums thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side.

“A rabbit bolts without thinking. A rabbit runs without believing there’s anything in the world that can catch him. And did I design a rabbit?” Haru asks.

Jeongin clenches his jaw tightly. Then shakes his head.

“No. I designed a deer,” Haru answers. “Trust your instincts. Listen to your surroundings. Know when to run and when to keep still.”

He hesitates.

“You deserve to come home, Jeongin. Believe that. And then make them believe it,” he says softly.

Jeongin breathes in slowly before nodding.

That made sense.

He wasn’t a rabbit. He was a deer.

He was someone they would be a fool to kill on the first day. He was someone useful. He had instincts that others didn’t.

“Come home. Prove to them that a deer isn’t something to underestimate,” Haru tells him.

He leaves the room not long after.

Jeongin watches him go, his breath catching as he hears the awful announcement telling the tributes to enter their tubes.

He does it. Somehow he forces himself into the glass tubing that seals him away from the rest of the world.

The hiss of the glass sliding into place somehow forces a fire into him.

He closes his eyes as the platform starts to rise.

He thinks of Minho’s arms wrapped tight around his middle.

He thinks of Changbin’s loud laugh.

He thinks of his brothers protecting him with everything they had.

He thinks of the crowded and cramped house he grew up in.

He thinks of Chan wanting him to have empathy and understanding for everyone.

He thinks of the way District 10 chose to sacrifice him so they could have a Victor.

When the platform stops moving, he finally opens his eyes.

He sees the cornucopia in the middle- shrouded in overgrown grass and vines. He sees huge walls that turn every which way. He smells ungodly amounts of pollen in the air. He hears something shrieking in the distance- distant and high pitched- but he has no idea if it’s real or if the Gamemakers manufactured it. He can feel the thick humidity sticking to his fingers.

He locks eyes with Mingi. Sees Irelyn next to him.

Jeongin inhales as best he can. And the countdown begins.

Chapter Text

Part Two: The Fawn and The Stallion

“Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor,” the announcer says over the loudspeakers of the arena, and a huge clock above the cornucopia begins counting down from sixty.

Jeongin looks around helplessly. Run, Mingi had said. Run.

Fifty.

Run where? There are walls surrounding the tributes and as far as he can tell, they’re structured walls. Sure, they’re covered in grass, but surely there’s a structure beneath it, isn’t there? Jeongin panics as he feels like Mingi’s plan has fallen apart before it can even begin. There are huge overgrown vines with what he thinks are thorns covering every surface he can see. Even the cornucopia is covered in them, making it look like it’s been here for decades, just a harmless statue in a place made for violence.

Forty.

Jeongin almost steps off the platform, but reminds himself that that’s against the rules. He’ll be shot on sight if he moves an inch.

Thirty.

He continues looking around, desperately searching for a way out before he finally catches it.

A small shiver in the vines that opens a doorway. Then another. Then another. Like the arena itself is waking up.

It’s a small opening, but it’s an opening. They’re layered throughout the walls now. Different corridors that turn in different directions. Different doorways that either lead to escape or death by the arena.

Jeongin would rather die by that than at the hands of another child.

Twenty.

Mingi is staring at him. He nods, as if telling Jeongin that he knows his plan will work somehow.

Fifteen.

Jeongin shakes his head- he has no idea how Mingi will find him in this, especially considering it seems their outfits are meant to help them blend into their surroundings out here. Probably for people like Irelyn who are small enough to fit into tiny spaces and can throw a knife into someone’s neck from the shadows.

Ten.

Or maybe… for people like Jeongin. Who can just as easily squeeze into a tight space in order to escape being hunted.

Mingi just nods in the direction of the corridor Jeongin found earlier.

Jeongin stares at the corridor.

Three.

He takes a deep breath.

Two.

He braces.

One.

He takes off.

He runs faster than he’s ever run before, and sprints in the complete opposite direction of the cornucopia. He can hear laughter that’s almost evil in its nature- the laughter coming from someone who knows what they’re about to do and somehow has no problem with it at all.

He’s already sweating, but he wills his legs not to slow down.

He glances back just in time to see Jocie hold tight to an axe before taking a kick to the face.

He forces his eyes forward as his breath hitches.

He turns the corner as quickly as he can.

He sprints down the corridor, willing his legs to keep pace, and against all odds they do. He passes three different paths with forks in them- takes the left one once, and the right one twice. He’s completely lost by now- coming to a fourth fork in the road before he finally huffs out a breath.

He shakes his head, stopping himself.

Mingi said to get as far as he could.

But there’s no way Mingi will find him in this.

The canopy is so dense it feels like the sun has gone down with how far he’s gotten into the arena this time, his hands shaking. The only source of light are gorgeous bioluminescent plants that shine a bright green color, and Jeongin can just barely see where he’s going. But he can’t see where he’s been.

He glances behind him before forcing himself forward to touch the wall.

And it moves.

The plants surrounding where he’d put his hands shrink back as if scorched by his touch. He jumps, pulling his hand back as quickly as he can. Where his hand was, there’s a hole that shows there’s nothing underneath the plants. It’s a giant hole. The plants take a few seconds before moving back into place- taking their formation again. 

Jeongin’s never seen anything like it before.

Which makes sense. The Gamemakers have forced themselves into a corner with this arena build- they have to make a spectacle.

He looks around like he’s trying to decide if this is a trap. If the vines would open around him in order to swallow him whole.

He decides to test it again.

He flinches slightly as he puts his hand back against the plants and they shift once more. This time, Jeongin lets his arm reach further into it.

His arm continues going through- not even touching the plants as they squirm and slither away from him.

He lifts his leg slowly and tries his best not to freak out as he steps through the wall of vines.

He takes another step forward. Then another. Then another.

Before long, he’s completely enveloped in plants.

The vines close around him, completely sealing him within the wall. Inside, it’s pitch black aside from the soft glowing green lights on the outside of the wall.

He can see the lights, but not much else beyond that. He has no idea what the outside corridor looks like now- if anyone’s on his tail, if the bloodbath has ended.

He wonders if he’s the first tribute to discover this.

Surely he is. He doubts anyone left has made it far into one of the doorways, let alone wanted to touch the walls yet.

He walks forward a few more feet, wanting to stay hidden.

If Mingi keeps his promise, he’ll find him by the end of the day. That’s all he can hope for.

He has no food or water, nothing to defend himself with. He’d stupidly listened to Mingi- clinging onto the idea that he wouldn’t ever actually have to fight another tribute. But he’s suddenly understanding that this might not have been a very good plan.

He sits down to rest a bit. He’s sweating from running, and the humidity surrounding him definitely isn’t helping things.

He pulls his knees up to his chest, wondering how many cameras are watching him. He wants to know if the Gamemakers are impressed that he figured out this trick so early into the games.

Surely there’s more to come. More tricks, most not as helpful to Jeongin. Most likely to try to get him killed.

After about half an hour of hearing no noise from outside the walls, Jeongin decides it’s best to keep moving. Staying in one place too long has never been helpful for a tribute. He stands and continues walking slowly through the wall, keeping his eyes on the lights that glow into it to keep his pace. The inside of the wall has a path just wide enough for him to walk through comfortably. His footsteps are nearly silent as he walks- the path inside of the walls is soft dirt that’s likely not to keep footprints for too long.

He stops when he hears a twig snap on the other side of the walls.

He holds his breath, letting his legs lower him to the ground as slowly as they can without moving his upper body.

He puts his hands on the ground to steady himself as gently as he can. He’s thankful the vines make little noise above the speaking he hears.

He can’t make out the words, but he can hear the voices.

A high tenor laced with confidence. A bright squeaky voice that sounds excited. Two deeper voices that argue back and forth. A girl’s voice that puts an end to the argument.

The Career pack.

Jeongin feels his face pale. Feels the sweat on his neck pouring down his back. If he reached as far as he could, he would be able to touch them.

He listens as intently as he can, trying his best to understand the words they’re saying.

He can only piece together bits and pieces.

“Pathetic.”

“Shocking that he made it past the bloodbath.”

“Excited to take him out.”

He’s sure they’re talking about him.

Excited, they’d said.

Like he’s not a person trapped in the same hell they are.

Jeongin clenches his jaw tightly.

They have no idea that he’s right next to them. They have no clue how easy it could be to take him out now.

The Careers aren’t exactly eager to find a hiding place. Not like Jeongin. So he can’t say he’s shocked when they pass by him without even attempting to touch the wall he’s in.

He stays there for what feels like hours. In this crouched position that makes his legs ache his hair drench with sweat. But he can’t bring himself to move.

Not when he knows there are people out there eager for a kill.

Eager to kill him, specifically.

It’s not until he hears more voices that he finally stands.

He considers taking off as quickly and as quietly as he can, but something inside him stops him.

Something tells him these aren’t the Career voices. Or even voices that belong to less threatening tributes.

A girl’s annoyed huff. A boy’s calming tone. Another girl’s soft apology.

Irelyn. Mingi. Jocie.

Jeongin risks getting closer to the wall in order to make out the words.

“...don’t understand how we’re even supposed to find him. That was the stupidest move you could have pulled,” Irelyn’s voice says, stomping in front of the others.

“We’ll find him. He can’t have gotten too far, calm down. This whole place is covered in plants, I’m sure he can find a water source somewhere,” Mingi replies. Jeongin walks slightly closer.

He can see through the vines just slightly now. Irelyn’s hair is tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, her cowl completely off. Mingi towers over her, and Jocie is on Mingi’s back.

Jeongin wonders what kind of injury she got from the bloodbath. If it was just that kick to the face, or if there’s something more he’d missed.

The fact that two groups have wandered in his direction is something that bothers Jeongin.

He’d taken three different paths. Three different forks that he’d decided to go down individually.

There was no feasible way two different groups had taken the exact same path he had. It shouldn’t be possible.

He ignores the thought as it makes the bile in his stomach churn.

He steps out of the wall as quietly as he can behind them, feeling his eyes well with tears of relief as he realizes Mingi actually kept his promise. He takes his mask and his hood off to lower the risk of the two attacking him right away. Even with friends, he feels like he’s stepping in front of a firing squad.

“Mingi,” he says quietly, swallowing as his voice breaks.

Three heads turn.

“Jeongin!” Irelyn says, rushing to him. She wraps him in a tight hug and Jeongin realizes he’s pretty sure this is the first time they’ve touched since the parade.

Jeongin wraps his arms around her waist, breathing slowly.

Mingi sighs in relief, throwing his head back. “Thank God. I was getting worried,” he says, smiling easily. His voice is steady, but Jeongin sees his hands shake with his grip on Jocie. His hood remains, but his mask has slipped off entirely.

Jocie’s hood and mask stay on the entire time. Her eyes look like she’s already half asleep as she rests her head on Mingi’s shoulder.

Irelyn pulls back to examine him. “Did you get hurt at all? We had- Wait, have you been following us this whole time? Where the hell did you come from?” Irelyn asks, looking him up and down. Other than the running, Jeongin looked like really hadn’t done much of anything in the few hours they’ve been in the arena. Mingi and Irelyn both look exhausted, and the dark patches of their uniforms give away that they’re stained with blood.

“No, I… I ran, and I figured something out,” he explains, moving back over to the wall. “Look,” he says, placing his hand on the vines and waiting for them to move.

They don’t.

Jeongin furrows his brow. 

The vines here aren’t the same as before. These are thicker with thorns- sharp yellow and orange flowers that Jeongin swears he hadn’t seen before he’d walked into the wall.

“Are we supposed to be… seeing something?” Irelyn asks, raising a brow with a look that Jeongin could almost call worry.

“I… no, I don’t understand. The vines moved, I’ve… I was in the wall. For a while. The Careers passed me before you did,” he says.

“Yeah, alright, Jeongin. Did you hit your head?” Irelyn asks. It’s almost more worry than it is condescension. 

Almost.

“I’m telling the truth! I was in the wall! The vines moved, I swear!” Jeongin says.

“Okay, okay,” Mingi says, approaching them as he adjusts his hold on Jocie. “We’ll figure that out later. For now, we need to find somewhere to rest and I have to clean Jocie’s wound. Let’s focus on finding shelter, alright?” Mingi says, heading off in the opposite direction of where they’d been walking.

Irelyn looks at Jeongin with some amount of concern before grabbing onto his sleeve.

“Come on. You need rest, too,” she says.

Jeongin stares at the walls like they betrayed him before following behind her.

Chapter Text

Jeongin lets Irelyn hold his sleeve for a little too long before he realizes what’s going on. He pulls his arm away from her, clenching his jaw tightly. She’s being condescending, he knows she is- treating him like he’s crazy. He’s not crazy. He knows what the hell he saw. The wall let him in the first time, he’s just… confused about why on earth it wouldn’t let him in the second time.

It didn’t make any sense. Just like two groups of tributes finding him didn’t make any sense.

The vines were different, he knows that. And he’s not stupid- clearly they shifted.

Was the arena shifting? 

It must be.

What were the flowers? Did they symbolize something?

He must have been muttering to himself because Irelyn snaps in his face to get his attention.

“Stick with the group,” she says, grabbing onto his hand and intertwining their fingers.

Jeongin hates that the small comfort actually makes him feel a little bit better.

They follow closely behind Mingi as the group walks, Mingi speaking softly to Jocie as she complains about her side hurting. Mingi reassures her easily, promising to do his best to make it feel better once they can get off their feet.

Jeongin can’t help the pang of jealousy he feels at seeing Mingi treat her so tenderly.

He’s not sure what it is- maybe it’s the fact that Irelyn doesn’t seem as concerned about him as Mingi does about Jocie. Maybe it’s the confidence in Mingi’s voice that everything will be alright, that Jocie is going to be fine. Maybe it’s the fact that Mingi’s attention isn’t on him at all.

He shakes his head at himself.

He knows he’s only clinging so heavily to Mingi because he feels like home. But he isn’t home. Isn’t his, anyway.

He’s Jocie’s home. And Jocie is so young.

Too young.

She’s younger than Irelyn by two years, which doesn’t seem like a big difference but Jeongin knows better. It’s the same age difference between him and Irelyn, and there’s a huge maturity gap there. Mingi’s more like an older brother to Jocie than anything, so why is Jeongin feeling like this? Why should he feel the right to rip away her one source of comfort?

He squeezes Irelyn’s hand in order to come back to himself.

When they finally turn another corner, they find a spot to rest.

It’s slightly hidden by overgrown bushes and small trees- which would give them enough time to gather supplies and hide away if someone finds them. Which, Jeongin remembers, could be at any time.

When they pass the tiny path, Jeongin is almost taken aback.

It’s a small swamp area with glowing fungi similar to what’s on the walls, but this light is tinged with a slight yellow effect thanks to the fireflies around. They can only just see the fireflies since the sun is still out, but thanks to the canopy above them it’s almost like late evening.

The trees around them are willow trees- long beautiful flowing branches that swing in the small gusts of wind. Some of the branches are long enough to reach the water beneath it, laying gently on the surface of it. There are no animals other than the fireflies- at least not ones that have revealed themselves yet- which Jeongin is endlessly thankful for. The water is almost green with the algae beneath it, and they can just barely see the color.

Before they can relax, though, the cannon begins firing.

Jeongin jumps out of his skin, pressing his palms to his ears quickly. He gasps in breath, crouching down with his knees to his chest once more.

Irelyn is quick to comfort him, but she keeps her own ears open. She rests her hands on Jeongin’s shoulders, tells him it’s okay, but all the while keeps count as she listens.

Mingi sets Jocie down on the ground, removing her backpack before laying her on the soft grass beneath them and listens as well. He removes Jocie’s mask and hood, and brushes the hair out of her face as gently as he can while whispering to her. Jocie is still a little out of it, but is clearly as nervous as Jeongin is with the way her hands shake at her sides.

The cannon finally stops. Irelyn keeps her hands on Jeongin’s shoulders as she locks eyes with Mingi, silently asking for the count he got.

“Ten,” he confirms. “Fourteen left. Last I counted before we left the cornucopia, there were eight dead, so something must have happened,” Mingi says, slowly lifting Jocie’s shirt.

Irelyn nods. “Fourteen left,” she whispers to herself, pressing her own hands to Jeongin’s. “Come on, it’s over. Next time the cannon sounds it won’t go on that long,” she promises, slowly removing Jeongin’s hands from his ears. 

Jeongin’s hands shake as he tries to suppress his own breath, willing the tears in his eyes to stop.

Now isn’t the time to get emotional. There are still ten other children alive in this arena- ten more children that will have to die in order for only one of them to make it home.

He breathes slowly, wiping at his eyes with his hands as he stands with Irelyn’s help.

Mingi removes the makeshift bandage he has on Jocie’s wound, handing it to Irelyn for her to go clean. Jeongin realizes it’s a part of Mingi’s sleeve that he’s ripped off. It’s sticky and pulled at Jocie’s skin as Mingi peeled it off. Irelyn takes it and heads over to the little pond to start washing it off.

The wound is large. A gash on the right of her stomach, as if a blade went through her just deep enough to cause bleeding but not enough to kill her immediately. Like whoever did it wanted her to suffer.

Jeongin sits down on the other side of Jocie, his legs folded underneath him. Mingi continues looking at the wound, clearly nervous. It’s still oozing blood, still looks awful. Jeongin isn’t sure how she’ll come back from this if they don’t get her some proper medicine soon. Even just some needle and thread to stitch it up would help more than what they have now.

“It looks a little better, Jocie,” Mingi mumbles quietly. “How’s your head feeling?”

Jocie hums softly, her eyes closing and opening slowly as if she’s about to drift to sleep any moment.

“It still hurts,” she answers quietly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get the axe for you,” she says.

Mingi just brushes it off.

“Don’t worry about that- I’m sure we’ll have another chance to get it. That little punk from 3 isn’t going to find it very useful, huh?” He asks, smiling down at her. “She won’t be able to swing it for very long before getting tired. I’ll get it back,” he promises. 

Jeongin wonders if that had been a part of the plan. If Jocie was in charge of getting an axe to Mingi, or if she’d charged in recklessly with a plan of her own.

“Mm,” Jocie confirms softly, nodding. “She looks weak. I don’t think they do much physical labor in 3.”

Mingi laughs softly. “I have that dagger. That’s enough for now. We need to focus more on food and water right now anyway. As long as we have a stock for the next few days, we should be fine without weapons. Plus, Irelyn’s amazing with those knives, and she wrestled them right out of that Career girl’s hands,” he says as Irelyn returns with the cloth.

“I wasn’t leaving without those. At least now we know there’s one less Career to worry about,” Irelyn says stiffly.

Jeongin swallows thickly.

Mingi looks at her as if she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to. Then looks at Jeongin for some kind of reaction.

Jeongin clenches his jaw.

So Irelyn’s already got a kill under her belt.

A Career, no less.

Killed over knives.

Jeongin chews on his bottom lip as he mulls it over.

The three of them had done so much for the group already. Jocie got hurt trying to provide for Mingi. And what the hell had Jeongin done?

Ran. He’d run away.

Mingi starts to say something before Irelyn stops him.

“Tell me more about the wall, Jeongin,” she says quickly, trying her best to change a clearly sensitive topic.

Mingi nods, cleaning Jocie’s side as gently as he can and shushing her soothingly as she hisses in pain.

Jeongin nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I… Well, when I came out of the wall, the vines had changed. They didn’t have flowers beforehand,” he says softly. “They were soft, and I could barely touch them before they moved. It was like they knew I needed a hiding spot,” he explains, glaring down at his lap.

“Do you remember what the vines looked like before, then? When you went in?” Irelyn asks.

Jeongin thinks back.

“They were… a lighter green, I think? No thorns. The leaves were a different shape, too. Like… maybe ivy? Not as sharp as the ones when I left. And there was fungi on the branches like there is here- but it was more green, too. Glowing. It helped me follow the path while I was in the wall,” he explains, nodding.

“Okay. So, next thing we do is look for something like that,” Irelyn says. “Somewhere we can hide. We can get the upper hand- I doubt anyone else has found anything like that so far.”

Mingi nods as he hands Irelyn the cloth to wash once more. 

“We find somewhere better to hide with less openings. We could even hide there through most of the games, I bet,” Mingi says.

The wound on Jocie’s side looks cleaner now. Still gross, still oozing slightly, but the blood surrounding it is cleaned up now, making it look just a little less fresh.

Irelyn heads back to the water to wash the cloth off once more.

“Hey,” Mingi says softly. “You found us an amazing hiding spot. Don’t sell yourself short just because you did what I asked,” he tells Jeongin. “Irelyn and I can handle the fighting. Finding stuff like that is just as important.”

Yeah, right.

Jeongin doesn’t believe him for a second.

But he nods anyway. The way he used to nod when Changbin would tell him it was okay not to want to hurt anything on the farm- that there were always other jobs he could do.

Irelyn comes back with the cloth and Mingi presses it to Jocie’s side gently, using the water on it to keep it in place. Once the cloth dries, it’ll probably fall off, but the water on it is enough to keep it on at least while Jocie sleeps.

She’s already dozed off by the time Jeongin checks her face again.

There’s a bruise on her cheek. A dark purple and red where she got kicked. He wonders if she’d been knocked out after that or if she’d kept fighting.

Irelyn takes the backpack Jocie had had on earlier, pulling out an apple from it. She takes one of the knives from her own backpack before cutting the apple three ways for them to split.

“I’ll give her one of my apples in the morning,” she says. “Or whenever she wakes up. She needs to eat- so don’t let her put it off,” she tells Mingi.

Mingi just smiles and nods, taking his third of the apple and biting into it.

Jeongin takes his, nibbling on it slowly as he stares at the pond.

The sun has fully gone down now- or at least the swamp has given the illusion that it has. The fireflies are vibrant, soft yellows floating gently around them. The fungi on the grass and in the trees is a soft neon green, and Jeongin can’t help but think this would be a nice place to end the games.

But then the sky above them lights up.

They can only see slightly through the trees, but Irelyn moves before anyone can stop her to get a better view. She’s scaling one of the willows easily, lifting herself up enough to see what’s going on. It’s reckless, and stupid, but she’s brave enough not to care about the consequences of potentially exposing herself.

Jeongin’s never seen anything like it before.

The games have never announced to the tributes who exactly was left. They’d always had cannon fire, he thinks- at least since Silas’s games. But this projection is new.

The Capitol anthem plays as different pictures he can barely see flash across the sky.

When it’s over, Irelyn comes down.

“The dead tributes,” she says quickly, clearly worked up. “They’re telling us who’s dead. We know exactly who’s left- this is great news!” She says.

Jeongin looks at her like she’s grown a second head.

Great news?

Not only do they have to kill to survive, but they need to be reminded of who they’ve killed?

Jeongin’s vision goes blurry.

“Who was it?” Mingi asks quietly, resting a hand gently on Jeongin’s thigh in an attempt to anchor the younger boy.

“The boy from 3, the girl from 4, both tributes from 5, the boys from 6 and 8, the girls from 9 and 11, and both tributes from 12,” Irelyn answers.

Ten. Ten dead.

Jeongin knew that already. The cannons confirmed it.

Both from 12. Both from 5.

Two Districts who are already left with no hope of someone returning home.

The girl from 4. The Career that Irelyn killed.

He wonders how many more deaths she contributed to.

He wonders how many Mingi is responsible for.

He wonders if Jocie feels as sick about it as he does.

“Okay. At least we’ll know who’s left,” Mingi says. He reads Jeongin’s mood like a book- not celebrating the deaths the way Irelyn so clearly is.

Jeongin pulls his knees up to his chest, his hands shaking.

Irelyn finally comes back to reality then.

“Jeongin,” she says, almost apologetically. “It… yeah, like Mingi said, I just mean… it’s great because we’ll know who’s left. That’s all,” she explains to him, hoping he’ll understand.

“I’m tired,” is all Jeongin can bring himself to answer.

“Then get some sleep,” Mingi says. “Irelyn and I will switch off watching out. You need some rest.”

It doesn’t take much convincing for him to agree.

He curls up on his side, yanking his hood over his eyes. He prays no one from back home saw the way he reacted to that.

But he knows they did.

Chapter Text

Jeongin wakes up to a hand over his face.

He’s startled- gripping the wrist tight where it lays across his face, the hand over his mouth- before he realizes that it’s Mingi’s hand.

He’d been dead asleep before someone had decided to wake him up like this, and discovering that it’s Mingi only makes him slightly relieved before he sees the look in his eyes.

Wild. Shaken. Unbelievably scared for someone so strong.

Jeongin can hear the water of the pond moving in front of them- the soft drip of water that sounds too close.

Mingi holds a finger over his own mouth, urging Jeongin to stay silent.

Then, he hears it.

The strange hissing noise coming from around them.

His own eyes widen as he practically begs Mingi to explain what’s going on without any words leaving his mouth. His breathing quickens, but he does his best not to make any noise.

Mingi removes his hand before quickly moving to Jocie and urging her to sit up as quietly as she can, Irelyn beside him slowly pulling the straps of the backpack over her shoulders. She’s sitting stiffly and glaring at something in the dark that Jeongin can’t quite make out before he’s handed the backpack that Jocie had been wearing earlier.

“Put it on,” Irelyn whispers, her legs slowly letting her rise.

Jeongin glances to where her eyes are focused, searching in the dark before he finally sees it.

Crocodiles.

Not real ones- of course not. These are the pride of the Capitol, he’s sure.

Muttations.

Huge, green, overgrown crocodiles made of the vines that make up the rest of the arena. They’re bigger than Jeongin, he knows it. Certainly bigger than Jocie and Irelyn. The only one here giving these creatures a run for their money is Mingi, and they’re about his size in length either way.

The mutts are glaring at them from the water, but are clearly poised to attack. Jeongin counts four- no, five- no, six before he realizes how much trouble they’re truly in. Their eyes lay right above the water, watching them like lambs set for the slaughter, like dinner they’ve been putting off for too long.

“Keep steady,” Irelyn says softly. “Stand slowly. No sudden moves,” she directs, following her own advice.

The mutts move closer as Irelyn stands. Jeongin slips the straps of the backpack over his shoulders as gently as he can before following her lead.

“C’mon, Jocie, stay with me,” Mingi whispers behind them, pulling her arms over his shoulders. “Hold tight, honey. I’m about to run,” he says to her, hoping to brace her for the impact to her wound that the running will surely jostle.

The hissing sound the crocodiles make makes Jeongin’s skin crawl. He forces himself to continue breathing as he tries his very best to rise without causing them to come any closer.

They do anyway.

The crocodiles almost seem to watch him specifically. Knowing he’s an easy target. His movements are slightly jerkier than Irelyn and Mingi, which he’s sure is an indicator that they can attack him first.

Two of them have already made it onto land before Mingi finally gets his footing with Jocie on his back.

“Back up,” Mingi says softly, taking a few steps backward himself. “Slowly. Gentle,” he says, guiding Jeongin’s back with a hand.

The hand he needs to support Jocie on his back.

Jeongin tries to step away, but he can’t help the part of him that leans into the touch.

The three of them take long careful strides backwards, trying to separate themselves from the creatures in the swamp.

Their tails flick with interest. The water around them splashes so slightly that Jeongin could miss it if he wasn’t watching them.

Finally, though- the first one charges.

Irelyn lets out a scream Jeongin never dreamed he’d hear from her.

“Go!” Mingi yells, turning his back on the mutts as quickly as he can and rushing through the brushes.

And that sets all of them off.

They sprint out of the swamp as quickly as they can, the crocodiles right on their tail as they do.

These things make their differences to normal crocodiles extremely clear, as they’re as fast on land as they are water- their legs growing in size as they come in contact with the vines on the ground that give them an upper hand.

Irelyn is right behind Jeongin as he hears the snap of a jaw way too close.

Jeongin reacts before he can even think about it.

He reaches his leg out and kicks as hard as he can, shoving Irelyn forward in front of him. He hits the crocodile right on the head, forcing it to at least back up an inch or two before he continues running.

“Just go! Don’t look back!” Mingi yells at him, continuing his own running.

Jeongin is shocked at how fast he is with the extra weight on his back.

Even more shocked at the fact that Irelyn has grabbed his arm in a vice grip and yanked him forward.

“Don’t be a fucking hero, Jeongin!” Irelyn snaps, pulling him forward as quickly as she can.

Jeongin glances behind him despite Mingi’s instructions, locking eyes with one of the creatures.

It snaps its large jaws at him again, and Jeongin flinches as a knife flies right past his cheek and into the creature’s snout.

The creature grows again- its jaws increasing in size and strength as the vines around it sink into its anatomy and assist its attack.

“Keep going!” Irelyn yells, yanking him forward once more.

Jeongin continues his running, gasping in breath after breath as they try to get away from the huge creatures following them.

Mingi turns a corner, glancing back behind himself to be sure Irelyn and Jeongin have followed, before the vines around them start shifting.

They can hear the hissing and growling of the mutts behind them before the sound dampens completely. Mingi and Irelyn keep running, but Jeongin looks back one more time.

He hears the snapping of the jaws just barely above the rustle of vines that close behind them. He can see the leaves just slightly in the dark- helped by the glowing fungi surrounding them.

The yellow and orange flowers are back, and they move quickly, almost enveloping the four of them completely before they manage to escape.

Had Irelyn not had such a tight grip on his arm, Jeongin would have been separated from them once more as the vines grow around his body. He feels the thorns poke through the fabric of his pants as he manages to slip through right at the last second, the pollen of one of the flowers catching just slightly on his nose.

And the snapping and hissing finally stops.

Mingi runs for another minute before finally feeling safe enough to slow down. Irelyn lets Jeongin’s arm go before resting her hands on her knees, gasping in air as best she can. Jeongin collapses onto the ground as he catches his breath, breathing in slowly and wiping at his face before forcing himself to pull his mask back up.

Mingi continues moving, though- forcing the other two to pick themselves back up and follow him through the rough bushes of the path that has somehow made itself clear in the dark.

When they finally settle, it’s underneath a thick ceiling of vines that Mingi has deemed safe enough to rest for a moment. He sets Jocie down as gently as his exhausted body will let him. She grips his only sleeve, her hands shaking as she whimpers in pain.

“It’s okay,” Mingi says softly. “You’re okay. You’re safe, we got out,” he promises, though his voice breaks just enough for Jeongin to catch it. “Go back to sleep. I’ll carry you when we decide to move,” he promises.

Jeongin’s own hands are shaking heavily, but he forces them into his lap to hide it as he plops down onto the dirt path.

Mingi must catch it though, because he’s there in only two strides.

“Are you okay?” Mingi asks quickly. “What happened? Why’d you stop?” He asks, wrapping larger hands around Jeongin’s. Jeongin clenches his jaw, suddenly happy with himself for pulling his mask back up as he feels the blood rush to his cheeks.

“I’m fine,” he promises softly, staring down at the ground. “It… I was just scared. I stopped because Irelyn was in trouble,” he explains quietly.

Mingi sighs in relief, closing his eyes.

“Be careful,” he says softly. “Please. Just… Irelyn can handle herself, I promise. We don’t need you sacrificing yourself,” he says. 

Jeongin swallows thickly before nodding.

“I was fine- just… those things were huge,” Irelyn says from the side, glancing down at Jocie. She kneels beside her, pulling her shirt up just enough to check the wound out. She winces slightly at the sight of more blood, but Jeongin thinks she must decide not to say anything because she just pulls the shirt back down. 

Mingi looks back to Jeongin, breathing in slowly before wrapping his arms tight around the younger boy.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers quietly, his hands fisting slightly on Jeongin’s cowl as he rests them on his neck. “Just… please. I need you alive, okay?” He says, so softly that no one else can hear it.

Jeongin nods against Mingi’s chest.

“Sorry,” he says softly.

Mingi huffs out a breath before forcing himself to let go.

“Everyone try and get some more sleep. I don’t know when the sun will rise, so we should try and get as much rest as we can. I’ll keep watch for now,” he says softly.

Irelyn nods and lays beside Jocie, curling up in a tight ball against her wounded side. Jeongin feels like she must be protecting her- just in case.

He lays down as comfortably as he can after taking the backpack off, but his eyes drift back to Mingi- sitting beside him with a hand rested on Jeongin’s leg.

He watches Mingi breathe as Mingi keeps guard for them- feeling the walls of the arena breathe along with them.

Chapter Text

Jeongin wakes with Mingi’s hand gone. He takes a moment to himself and keeps his eyes closed- trying to breathe, trying to remember what exactly had happened last night. The other three are already awake and talking.

“You can’t let him do something like that again,” Irelyn says quietly. “This isn’t going to work if he’s constantly putting himself in danger just for me. Keep him with you from now on. I can take care of Jocie,” she says.

“I can’t keep him from trying to protect you, Irelyn,” Mingi argues. “He’ll know something’s up if we try to keep him separate from you. Doing what you did works perfectly fine- just keep that up.”

“I can’t keep that up. I barely got my hand around his wrist to pull him out of there,” Irelyn snaps in a half-whisper. “He trusts you more than he trusts me anyway. He won’t question it if it comes from you,” she says. “I’m going to check things out. Stay here,” she tells the other two.

“Wait, Irelyn-” Jocie starts before hissing in pain. But she doesn’t say anything else, and Irelyn continues walking.

Jeongin is confused. What won’t work? Alliances aren’t supposed to keep things from each other so what the hell were they keeping from him?

Jeongin hears Irelyn walk away and waits for the footsteps to fade away fully before opening his eyes.

He pretends that he’s just woken up, rubbing at his eyes as he opens them.

“Hey. Good morning,” Mingi says quietly. “Did you sleep okay?” He asks, clearly hoping Jeongin hadn’t heard their conversation.

He feigns ignorance. For now.

“Yeah,” he answers softly, sitting up and wincing at the ache in his back. It’s worse than when Seungmin takes up the entire bed.

Mingi’s hand is gentle on Jocie’s side as he looks down at Jeongin. Jocie is still doubled over slightly where she sits in front of them, trying to breathe through the pain.

“How are you feeling?” Jeongin asks quietly, leaning forward.

Jocie tries to force a small smile but it doesn’t work very well.

“F-Fine,” she stutters out. “Just… it just hurts,” she says, the tears thick in her voice.

“Let me see,” Mingi says, lifting her shirt gently just above the patch of fabric that’s meant to be there.

It must have fallen off in their escape last night, because it’s nowhere to be found.

The wound looks worse. It’s red and inflamed around the edges and the blood that’s supposed to be there has turned almost a greenish-white.

Mingi does his best to hide his worry, but he swallows thickly when he lays his eyes on the wound. 

“It’s fine,” he says softly. “We just need to clean it a little bit better. Sponsor gifts will start showing up in no time,” he promises.

Jocie doesn’t believe him. Neither does Jeongin.

Jocie just nods, glancing back to Jeongin with a sad sort of smile.

“Where’d Irelyn go?” He asks after a beat, glancing to Mingi.

“Just to check out our surroundings. She’ll be back soon, don’t worry,” Mingi answers, settling Jocie’s shirt down as gently as he can around the wound.

“Shouldn’t we stick together? She might get hurt by herself. Or separated,” he says. “We know the walls are moving. We saw that much last night. We shouldn’t be walking off by ourselves right now.”

“She’ll be okay- I’m sure she didn’t go too far. She might have just needed some time to herself, is all. Just stick with us,” Mingi says.

There’s something he’s not telling Jeongin. He knows it.

He stares off in the direction that Irelyn left, clenching his jaw tightly.

He wants to go after her. Demand to know what she’d spoken to Mingi about. To demand what wouldn’t work if he kept putting himself in danger. Why he needed to stick with Mingi.

Why she’s so sure he trusts Mingi more than he trusts her.

She’s always been nasty to him. She’s been mean, she’s made it clear that Jeongin isn’t going home instead of her. It makes sense, by all accounts- Mingi’s made his own intention clear from the start. He’d wanted to protect Jeongin not because it was his role to play, but because he truly felt like Jeongin had a chance. Or at the very least, because he reminded Mingi of home the same way Mingi reminded him of home.

But he trusts Irelyn. She was smart. She knew the Capitol’s games. She played right into their hands.

So what the hell does she think she’s doing, shoving Jeongin off on Mingi when he has his own District partner to worry about?

“Jeongin,” Mingi says quietly, looking at him patiently.

Jeongin looks back to the other boy.

“It’s fine. I promise,” he says. “I keep my promises. Everyone’s okay.”

Jeongin feels like he might be convincing himself as much as he’s trying to convince Jeongin.

But he nods anyway.

Mingi grabs an apple from Irelyn’s backpack and splits it two ways with one of the throwing knives. He hands the halves to Jeongin and Jocie.

“Eat. You need strength,” he says softly. “Try and get some more rest after you’ve eaten, Jocie. We’ll figure out our next move when Irelyn gets back.”

Jocie listens without complaint. She eats slowly, as if the simple act of chewing causes her side to throb in pain.

Jeongin tries his best to eat, but something inside him is eating away at him. He barely finishes a third of his apple before handing it to Jocie, watching Mingi dig through and organize the two backpacks at their disposal.

Irelyn comes back after a few minutes, clearly not having gotten too far. He wonders if she was as scared to get separated from them as Jeongin was.

“The walls haven’t moved in a while. We might have a bit of time to make some progress before they shift. Maybe we can find those vines Jeongin was talking about last night,” she says, sitting down next to Jeongin.

Jeongin looks down at her quietly, chewing on his bottom lip. He wants to bring it up. Wants to know what they’d been talking about.

But he’s too scared.

He’s scared of the answer. Scared of what it could mean for him, for his brothers.

What it could mean for Silas. What it could mean for Irelyn.

A cannon fires. Jeongin flinches.

He glances around quickly- hoping the threat isn’t nearby.

“It’s fine,” Irelyn says quickly, placing a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder.

Jeongin relaxes a little bit at the contact. But not enough.

“I didn’t see anyone near us. Probably just a fight somewhere else in the arena. We’re okay,” Irelyn promises quietly.

Jeongin nods, but he still looks around just in case.

“We should probably get moving. Irelyn’s right, this is a good time to look for some of those vines you mentioned, Innie,” Mingi says softly.

Innie.

Jeongin isn’t upset at Mingi using that name.

Irelyn starts to say something about it, but one look at Jeongin shuts her mouth.

Jeongin is looking at Mingi like it means everything in the world to him that he used that name. Like it’s something he desperately wanted and has been granted without even having to ask.

Irelyn’s breathing slows just slightly.

She stands and holds out a hand to Jeongin. “C’mon. Let’s start looking,” she says gently.

Jeongin takes it and lets her help him up, pulling one of the backpacks on over his back so that Mingi doesn’t have to take so much of the weight considering he still needs to carry Jocie. Irelyn straps the other one to her back after pulling out the garter belt that came with the throwing knives and strapping it to her thigh- six of the throwing knives nestled into it easily resting on her leg for easy access.

Mingi pulls Jocie up gently by her arms- the younger girl either having fallen asleep or passing out, Jeongin can’t be sure. The limpness of her limbs makes him think it’s the latter.

He hopes it isn’t.

Once Jocie is settled on his back, Mingi starts forward and Irelyn and Jeongin follow in his step easily.

As they walk, the three of them fall into an awkward silence. Jeongin knows something and all three of them know it- but only Jeongin is left in the dark of what it truly is.

They walk through the maze slowly, the glowing fungi’s color dampening in the bits of sunlight that gleam easily through the canopy above them, the thick leaves leaving just enough space between them to show that it’s morning time. The sunlight beams down on them, causing sweat to bead on Jeongin’s forehead.

The walls around them still haven’t moved. They’re still around the flowered vines, the pollen floating through the air.

Jeongin’s steps slow slightly and Irelyn’s slow with him.

He speeds up, Irelyn matching his pace easily.

He clenches his jaw, glancing at the girl.

The girl his District was so sure would return home. The fox meant to protect him as long as she could, but sure that the fawn wouldn’t be able to make it through the games.

“Irelyn?” He asks quietly, letting his steps slow in order to get a bit further from Mingi and Jocie.

“Yeah?” Irelyn asks, her eyes falling on him.

There’s something different in them now. Different from the train ride, in the training center, in the interviews.

Reserved. Determined, still- but in a different way. Jeongin can’t figure out what exactly it is. Exhaustion? Hunger? Disillusion with the games?

He can’t tell what it is, but it sends a chill down his spine.

He can’t decide what he wants to ask her. 

What did you talk to Mingi about? What won’t work? Why are you convinced I need to stick with Mingi?

“What happened at the bloodbath?” He asks, finally, settling on a question that won’t make it seem like he knows they’re keeping something from him.

Irelyn shrugs slightly. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Jeongin,” she says. “It was… a lot. Rough. I’m glad you weren’t there for it,” she explains. “And I don’t really want to talk about it. We got enough competition out of the way, okay? That’s all you need to know,” she says.

Jeongin nods, but he wants to argue. He wants to know what they’re hiding from him. He wants to ask her not to seem like her world is ending around him.

Eventually, they find a path with no flowers.

The leaves are how Jeongin described- light green, soft around the edges, no thorns. He inspects them carefully, brows furrowing a bit.

“These look like them,” Mingi says softly. “Jeongin? This what you were talking about?”

Jeongin looks at them before nodding. But something’s off about these leaves. There’s something different about them, he just can’t place it.

Irelyn sticks her hand out to test them. They move the way Jeongin had described- practically running away from the human touch.

“This must be it,” she says. “You weren’t kidding- this is insane,” she mentions, looking at the leaves closely. They move away from her face, almost flinching from her.

Mingi tries the same thing, sticking his own hand out and smiling a little bit at it.

Jeongin isn’t quick to move. There’s a disgusting acrid smell around them that wasn’t there the first time he’d encountered these vines that makes him uneasy.

“This’ll be a great hiding spot- especially since Jocie still needs a little more rest,” Mingi says softly, adjusting his hold on the girl behind him.

Mingi lifts his foot in the same way Jeongin had the day before- letting the leaves envelope him slowly.

Then, Jeongin sees it.

Yellow spots.

They’re tiny- so small that you wouldn’t see it if you weren’t really looking. Yellow dots scattered gently through the leaves patterns.

“Wait,” he says- but it’s nearly too late.

Mingi’s already halfway in when they can smell the gas.

Chapter Text

The vines around Mingi’s legs wrap around him and pull him in without hesitation. The gas fills the air like a thick fog- Jeongin can see it. He thinks the gas is coming from the small yellow dots, but he can’t be sure until he finally sees it- small pores opening and closing with puffs of gas releasing every time. He yanks his hood and mask up as quickly as he can before he rushes to Mingi, coughing loudly as he tries to get Mingi out of the vines pulling him further and further into the wall.

“Jeongin!” Irelyn screams, rushing to him as well. Her mask is up too now- she must have pulled it up the second she smelled the gas. She wraps her arms tight around Jeongin’s middle, helping him pull Mingi and Jocie out as hard as she can. Jeongin’s hands are wrapped around Mingi’s arm, which is still hooked tight around Jocie’s leg.

Mingi fights hard- his muscles straining as he pulls against the vines.

Their visibility is lowering, the gas surrounding them thick in the air and causing Mingi to cough loudly as his mask isn’t anywhere near his mouth. He’s breathing it in which Jeongin knows will have dire consequences if they can’t get the mask up as soon as physically possible. But he can’t pull his mask up with his arms wrapped around Jocie’s legs, and Jeongin risk it lest he let go and Mingi and Jocie both get swallowed whole by the vines.

The vines snap and crackle as they move, wrapping around Jocie’s middle as Mingi keeps his hold on her.

“Jocie! Jocie!” He yells, getting her attention. “My dagger! It’s in my waist band- grab it! Cut the vines!” He practically screams, arms shaking with the effort he’s putting forth to keep the two of them together.

Jocie- out of it, dizzy, coughing herself- gets her head together enough to follow the instructions given to her, reaching down between Mingi’s arm and waist to grab the dagger. She pulls it from his waist, starting to cut at the vines.

But it’s not enough.

The vines grow more and more as they’re cut, sprouting new leaves and twigs that wrap disgustingly around Jocie’s wrist. They wrap around her throat, around her hair, yanking her backwards.

Jeongin pulls with everything he has, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough.

It’s not enough.

“Mingi!” Irelyn snaps.

Jeongin looks back at her, then back to Mingi.

Mingi shakes his head at her.

“I can’t leave her,” he practically begs.

“You promised,” Irelyn says, looking at him with eyes wilder than Jeongin has ever seen on her.

The vines wrap tighter around Mingi’s legs, pulling him to his knees. Jeongin drops with him, still pulling as hard as he can.

“She’s not going to make it. We both know that,” Irelyn yells above the noise. “You’ll both die at this rate. And you fucking promised me,” she snaps.

Mingi’s arms shake with the effort now.

“Please, don’t make me leave her like this,” he sobs out, tears running down his face.

“Mingi,” Irelyn says again. “Let her go. We need to get you out.”

Mingi looks at Jeongin, and he can almost feel Mingi’s heart break. He can see the decision the other boy makes.

Jeongin looks back at Irelyn.

He can’t understand this. They’re better as four, aren’t they? Four people that have each other’s backs til the end- sacrificing one of themselves should be out of the question.

“No. No, Mingi- we can get you both out! We’ll figure it out!” He yells, but his foot slips and he falls to the ground completely. His hands grip Mingi’s arms with everything he has.

Mingi’s eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head, lets out a pathetic sob.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers brokenly.

He can’t tell if it’s an apology to Jeongin, to Jocie, or to himself.

Until…

His arms loosen.

His grip on Jocie goes slack completely.

Irelyn pushes Jeongin out of the way as quickly as she can before wrapping her own arms around Mingi’s torso- under his armpits, the way you would save someone from a fire.

But she’s leaving someone behind.

Irelyn pulls with everything she has, yelling as she yanks him free of the vines. The two of them scramble as far away as they can, watching as Jocie is completely taken by the vines.

Irelyn yanks Mingi’s mask up the second she’s on her feet, pressing it to his face.

Jocie screams.

“Mingi!” She yells, reaching through the vines as much as they’ll let her. “No- please! Please, I don’t want to die! Help me!” She screams.

It’s blood curdling. And all Jeongin can do is watch.

He watches as the vines tighten around her neck. His eyes fill with tears as he sees her choke on the gas surrounding her.

Mingi’s on his hands and knees, his hands clenched into fists on the ground, sobbing loudly.

“Mingi, please!” Jocie screams again, kicking and fighting with all her might.

But she’s weak. Her wound is covered in vines. She coughs wildly, the gas taking over her lungs before she’s gone completely, her coughing having disappeared as if it were never there.

Mingi clenches his eyes shut tight. 

Irelyn grabs his arm tight and yanks him up with everything she has.

“Move!” She snaps, yanking Jeongin by the hood to get his attention.

Jeongin finally moves, getting up and following behind Mingi and Irelyn as they run.

They move through the gas, their masks and the gas working together to prevent the three of them from breathing properly. They run for what feels like hours- finally getting through the thick gas cloud only seconds later, and the vines start shifting again. The greenery shuts the three of them off from where Jocie now rests, forcing them apart forever.

Mingi collapses to the ground. Jeongin follows suit.

Mingi sobs loudly into his arms, his breaths coming in short sharp gasps. Jeongin can only stare forward at the ground, the bile in his stomach almost forcing its way up and out of his throat before he forces it back down.

Irelyn just breathes. Standing there as if she wasn’t the cause of it. As if Jocie would have died either way.

Maybe she would have. Maybe they all would have.

But Jeongin can’t bring himself to care when they’re the reason someone is dead.

He’d rather have taken her place than live with the feeling settling in him.

“We couldn’t save her,” Irelyn says, repeating it to herself over and over again until it feels natural. “There was nothing we could have done. She was dead either way. The wound was infected- she… she wasn’t going to last much longer anyway,” she says.

But her hands are shaking.

Her breath is short.

Not from the running. From something else.

From convincing herself she didn’t just kill one of their allies. From telling herself that they did the right thing.

Mingi just shakes his head, face buried in his arms.

Irelyn’s words run on a loop in Jeongin’s head.

You fucking promised me.

Jeongin yanks his mask off before he vomits onto the ground, the bile and the apple making its way up through his esophagus and burning the entire way. His hands shake with the effort he puts forth in trying to control himself.

Irelyn looks down at him, but she can’t bring herself to comfort him.

Mingi looks up at him, tears pouring down his face.

The two of them lock eyes before Irelyn shifts her gaze back to the ground.

And the cannon fires.

Chapter Text

Mingi continues shaking until Jeongin wraps his hands around his shoulders. Even then, Jeongin can feel the tremors beneath his clothes, and he detests the feeling of it.

At Jeongin’s urging, Mingi finally sits up- tears pouring from his face as he tries to catch his breath.

Jeongin tries to whisper the small things his brothers used to tell him after nightmares; “It’s okay, you’re safe,” but it has little to no effect on the other boy.

His eyes snap to Irelyn quicker than he’d like to admit.

He stands, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he marches over to her, eyes bright with anger.

“What the hell?” He hisses in her direction- only keeping his volume down because he doesn’t want to hurt Mingi in the process of asking Irelyn what the fuck she’d been thinking. 

Irelyn looks back at Jeongin with eyes that have aged twenty years in only the last hour.

“You didn’t even try,” he says angrily. “You just left her there. We could have gotten them both out. And she’s gone now, because of you,” he spits out at her, his fists shaking at his sides. He’s not sure if the shaking comes from the adrenaline of what had happened or of confronting Irelyn.

Irelyn clenches her jaw, looking down at the ground.

“Not now,” she says softly.

“No- now. You don’t get to decide,” Jeongin argues, shoving her shoulder. “Why would you do that?”

Irelyn’s head snaps in his direction, her eyes wild.

“You think I wanted her to die?” She asks, her voice cracking immediately. “You think I wanted to hear that?”

Jeongin glares at her, eyes dark.

“You think I don’t know what this makes me?” She adds, glaring at Jeongin like this is somehow his fault.

Jeongin steps forward an inch, clenching his jaw as he tries to stand his own ground in the hostility held in Irelyn’s voice.

“We could have saved her,” he tries again.

“No! We couldn’t have!” Irelyn almost screams, her hands shaking at her sides as she justifies it to Jeongin.

To herself.

“You saw her side! She… She wasn’t going to last another day and you fucking know it,” she says, eyes filled with tears. “You know it. She was dying already.”

Her hand drags through her hair, getting tangled in the ends. She rips it out, not seeming to care if it messes with the ponytail she still has in.

“Someone had to make the call, so I made it. I did it. I did that. You don’t have to fucking remind me,” she spits, the venom in her voice angled more toward herself than Jeongin. “Would you rather Mingi be dead too? Would you rather us be left on our own?”

It’s almost like she wants an answer. But Jeongin knows she doesn’t.

Jeongin’s breath hitches slightly before he looks down at the ground below his feet, jaw clenching tight.

“I just didn’t want her to suffer,” he whispers softly, his own bottom lip trembling.

Irelyn almost laughs. It’s a sound that gets caught in her throat.

“You’re just like Chan,” she says softly.

It’s soft. Under her breath, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Jeongin’s head snaps up at her at that. He blinks, eyes wide.

What could she possibly know about Chan? What would she know about his brother that he wouldn’t already know?

“What?” He asks, torn between a desperate need for understanding the statement and a want to tear her to shreds for bringing him up.

“Forget it,” she says softly. 

“I’m going to see if I can find somewhere we can rest. Try to get Mingi back up and running. I won’t go far,” she snaps.

She reaches into her backpack, handing Jeongin two different knives.

“Give these to Mingi. He’ll know how to use them,” she says, finally heading off by herself. 

Jeongin can only nod. 

He watches her leave- sees the tremor in her shoulders, the vines around her pulling back as if they know not to mess with her in this moment when she’s laid her soul bare for all of Panem to see.

He looks back to Mingi, who’s still sat on the ground with his arms wound around his legs, staring forward as if nothing else in the world exists but his own grief. 

Jeongin moves forward to him and sits down in front of his gaze, his legs folded underneath him. He chews on his bottom lip before pressing forward slightly, his forehead pressed against Mingi’s knee.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save her,” he whispers softly, his voice cracking.

Mingi says nothing. It’s like Jeongin isn’t even there.

Jeongin doesn’t try to speak after that. He figures it’s probably better to leave Mingi to his own thoughts- dark as they may be. He wants more than anything to help. He knows Mingi is only blaming himself right now- his District partner having died right in front of him.

For whatever reason, Jeongin isn’t sure. He wishes he knew.

After a moment, though, Mingi’s breath hitches harshly.

“Stop,” he says softly, pressing his hands to his ears.

Jeongin looks up, brows furrowed.

“Mingi?” He asks softly.

Mingi lets out a heartbreaking sob- one that’s sure to get the attention of the Capitol audience.

They love seeing one of the strongest tributes cry. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to,” Mingi says, his voice thick with tears as they start falling down his face once more. When Jeongin finally sees his eyes, he sees how wide his pupils are- not something that could be only him, but something caused by a chemical.

“Mingi, it’s okay,” Jeongin says softly, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t, I know… You would never do something like that without reason. It’s okay,” Jeongin tries again, reaching for Mingi’s hands.

Mingi jumps at the contact, scrambling back.

He’s seeing something that isn’t there. He looks through Jeongin, not at him. Jeongin holds his hands in front of him in surrender, glancing behind him to be sure no one is there.

“Mingi, please,” Jeongin practically begs. “It’s me. It’s just me, come on,” he says softly.

Mingi shakes his head, his palms pressing harder and harder to his ears.

“Please,” Mingi begs, eyes clamped shut as if it will help their situation. “Please, I’m so sorry, Jocie,” he says, his voice breaking.

Then, it hits Jeongin like a train.

The gas.

It must be some kind of leftover effect. Something that’s only affecting him now that he hasn’t suffocated from the fumes.

Jeongin breathes slowly, trying to think of something Chan would say. Something Minho would say.

“It’s not real,” he says gently. “It’s just us here, Mingi,” he promises, reaching his hands out to let Mingi grab onto him. “It’s not real.”

Mingi doesn’t seem to hear him, but he at least sees Jeongin’s hand. He grabs on tight, the limb losing circulation almost immediately.

But Jeongin doesn’t mind.

He can’t count the amount of times he’s done this to Minho. To Felix. To Chan. To Seungmin.

To all of his brothers.

Jeongin sits there quietly, pulling out one of the water bottles from the pack Irelyn left with him as he tries to get Mingi to drink. He needs to flush out the other boy’s system to the best of his ability. He has no idea if this will work at all, but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?

He doesn’t want to waste the water, so he waits patiently for Mingi to at least try and drink it before pouring it slowly down into his mouth.

Until he hears a rustling next to them.

Jeongin glances up and makes eye contact with someone who isn’t Irelyn.

It’s the boy from District 11.

His eyes meet Jeongin’s, and they’re just as terrified. If not, more. 

He’s one of the twelve year olds Silas had mentioned. He’s small- far smaller than Jeongin. And he’s holding a sword that will do him little good with the way it dwarfs his body.

Jeongin scrambles forward for one of the knives Irelyn had shoved towards him. He raises it quickly, and sees the boy flinch. 

But he doesn’t hesitate. He sends the knife flying right past the boy’s stomach- not even coming close to touching him.

The boy yelps as if the knife actually made contact, and for a moment, Jeongin is terrified that it did. 

But there’s no blood. The boy doesn’t collapse in pain. He’s still standing.

He sprints away as fast as he can.

Jeongin is left with his hands shaking as he realized what he’s just done. What his body did on instinct. How he’d thrown the knife without even thinking about the boy standing in front of him

He gasps in air as he stands to retrieve the knife, packing his backpack up as quickly as he can before pulling it onto his back, his hands trembling and his breath not coming in nearly quick enough.

He gets to Mingi quickly before forcing the taller boy to stand. He ignores the small whimpers and begging coming from Mingi’s mouth, his jaw clenching as he wraps Mingi’s arm around his shoulders,

They need to move. And quickly.

Jeongin can’t stand to sit here anymore and wait for Irelyn. They need to get going.

Surely Irelyn hadn’t gotten too far.

He’d curse himself later for that thought.

The vines around them slither and shift, creating new paths over and over for Mingi and Jeongin to follow. They force them in the opposite direction of where Irelyn had been heading, something Jeongin would realize too little too late.

Jeongin supports Mingi to the best of his ability, but it still forces the other boy to keep a steady pace as he cries, the gas still coiled tight around his brain even with Jeongin trying his best to shake it.

They finally come across a path with a clearing.

There’s deep red sand surrounding it- with no water source anywhere that Jeongin can see. It’s got huge hills of red sand that Jeongin can feel vibrate underneath his feet, like something slithering underneath them.

He tries to turn back, but the path behind them has closed off the second he turns.

And when he turns back to the sandy clearing, a massive cobra’s face rises from the dunes, its hood unfurling around it like blood leaking from a wound.

Chapter Text

The cobra is just slightly shinier than the sand it emerges from- gold flecks on its skin shining in the light that’s suddenly appeared with the disappearance of the canopy above them. Its hood shades Jeongin and Mingi from the light- exposing that they’re directly in its line of sight with the opposite of a Capitol spotlight from the television station. 

The cobra is huge. Bigger than any building that Jeongin has seen outside of the farm, looming over him as if Death himself is on its shoulder guiding it to his next victims: Mingi and Jeongin.

The ground shakes beneath Jeongin’s feet as the snake rears its head back to get ready for the strike it’s so clearly planning. The tension is the same as an awards show when the announcer waits a beat too long to tell the audience who won, but the only prize here is the fate Jeongin knows awaits them if the snake even gets close.

Jeongin shoves Mingi as hard as he can to the side, just barely missing the snake’s attack as it dives into the sand below them. The sand moves and shifts as the snake slithers beneath it, no doubt planning its next attack as this one had failed.

 Jeongin can hear the snake’s hiss beneath the ground- deafening him. He can only imagine what it will sound like above the tons of sand currently covering its mouth.

“Now would be a really great time for you to come to your senses, Mingi!” Jeongin shouts- sounding more like Irelyn than he’d like at the moment. But he’s panicking more than he ought to be. He knows that the only way out of this is with Mingi- the only way he survives anymore of the Games is with Mingi, so he shakes the other boy’s shoulders in an attempt to get him to focus.

Mingi groans softly with the shaking, his pupils finally shrinking as Jeongin looks into his eyes.

He looks around at the red sand around them, brows furrowing in confusion. Jeongin can’t blame him. Last he’d been aware, they were in the middle of the vines trying to get Jocie out of them, and suddenly they were surrounded by sand in a desert that looked nothing like the green canopies and vines they’d grown used to in the last two days. 

Mingi’s hands grip Jeongin’s wrist tight, feeling the ground beneath him tremble and shake. He looks to the other boy in front of him with recognition that Jeongin can only call home.

“We need to get out of here!” Jeongin screams, grabbing Mingi’s face with both of his hands. “Please, come on. I can’t carry you,” he begs, his voice trembling.

Mingi seems to recognize the terror in his voice more than anything as he finally stands.

He presses a finger to his lips again, his eyes glancing around them. The trembling has stopped for the most part- the ground finally still- before Mingi tackles Jeongin to the ground. 

Below them, the cobra shoots up out of the sand once more, hissing so loud that Jeongin loses his hearing again. The sand around the base of where the cobra emerged sprays all around them, nearly landing in Jeongin’s eyes before Mingi’s hands shoot to cover his own and Jeongin’s. 

Mingi struggles to stand but does so more efficiently than Jeongin, the smaller boy tripping over his own feet as he gets up to follow Mingi. They run as fast as the sand under their feet will let them, Jeongin following Mingi’s lead as they dodge and weave through the cobra’s attacks as it dives in and out of the dunes.

It senses their movement every time they switch directions- its giant body just barely missing them as it pops its enormous head in and out of the sand in every direction. Jeongin can’t tell if it’s actually trying to catch them or if it’s being controlled by the Gamemakers to make some good television.

Mingi’s hand is wrapped tight around Jeongin’s, leading him with the type of steadiness that makes Jeongin think he’s done this before- or at the very least that he’s spent his entire life preparing for this moment.

The cobra finally ceases its attacks after a few minutes- likely doing its best to locate them through the sand and strike when they least expect it.

Mingi pulls Jeongin tight to his chest, going completely still.

“Put your feet on mine,” he orders softly. 

Jeongin looks up at him, confused. Surely Mingi knows that won’t work- if they’re pressed together like that, the snake has even more opportunity to get them if Mingi is too busy trying to get Jeongin’s weight off of him.

“The less movement, the better. It’s sensing our vibrations in the sand,” he whispers tightly, arm wrapped tight around Jeongin’s waist.

Jeongin follows his orders, standing on his toes with his face pressed into the crook of Mingi’s neck as he wills his breath to slow. Mingi’s face is completely still, his eyes still adjusting. Jeongin can tell the gas hasn’t completely worn off yet, but Mingi is doing everything in his power to fight off the effects of it as he works out a plan.

“Throw something,” Jeongin says softly, arms wrapped around Mingi’s shoulders. “The backpack. Throw it,” he says.

Mingi shakes his head. “We need our supplies. We can’t waste anything in the arena,” he says.

“Then pick something and throw it, Mingi,” Jeongin wills. “It’ll at least give us enough time to hide. An apple. Throw an apple,” he begs. “We can find Irelyn later and get something from her. Getting out of here alive is more important than the apple.”

Mingi clenches his jaw as tightly as he possibly can- Jeongin can feel it in the way his teeth press together at Jeongin’s temple, feeling his jaw tighten.

Mingi’s head moves barely an inch. Then another. Then another. Then, his grip on Jeongin’s waist tightens just slightly. Just enough for him to feel it.

“Look,” he whispers softly, head nodding to something in the distance.

Jeongin turns his head as slow as he possibly can in the direction that Mingi is facing. He squints, but eventually, he sees it.

A hole on the far end of the desert wall where sand meets trees. Rocks surround it as if it’s there on purpose- as if they were always meant to find it.

It’s tiny- something Jeongin can fit through if he tries. He has no idea how Mingi will get through.

“We need to get there. We can leave through it,” Mingi whispers into his ear.

“It’s not big enough for both of us,” Jeongin argues softly.

“It is if you go first. The rocks around it make it seem smaller than it is- it’s just big enough for both of us to squeeze through,” Mingi says. “Trust me. I can get through it.”

Mingi reaches as slowly as he can for the backpack strapped to Jeongin’s back. He unzips it as gently and quietly as he can- hyper aware of the noise and vibrations going through his hands. Once he has a hole big enough for his hand, he reaches in slowly and wraps his hand around one of the apples in it and pulls it out so slowly that Jeongin has to hold his breath.

His arm draws back.

“After I throw it, run. As fast as you can. Don’t look back- I’ll be right behind you,” Mingi whispers his promise into Jeongin’s ear.

Jeongin stares forward at the tiny exit they have. Hope dangling on a string.

He can only pray that the Gamemakers don’t rip it away from him.

Jeongin can feel Mingi’s shoulders shake as he gets ready to throw the fruit. He glances up and sees how wide Mingi’s eyes are- the fear in them he never imagined he’d see in someone so strong.

He looks back to the exit hole, trying to erase the image from his memory entirely. He knows he was never meant to see something like that from Mingi.

Mingi throws the apple as far as he possibly can, and Jeongin runs like he’s never run before.

The cobra bursts out of the sand only seconds later, but to Mingi’s credit, it’s over where the apple has landed. It chomps down on the sand and the apple before realizing that it’s been tricked- its eyes immediately searching for the actual targets it had in mind.

Jeongin sprints through the sand, arms pumping as fast as they can as the ground around him tries its best to sink and pull him under.

Mingi is directly behind him. Jeongin can hear his footsteps. His hand twitches instinctively, wanting to grab Mingi’s more than anything again, but Mingi’s voice rings in his head again: Don’t look back.

He makes it for the exit, praying the entire time that Mingi will keep pace.

The snake continues its pursuit behind them, the sand sinking and rising as the creature makes its way impossibly fast to them.

Jeongin makes it to the opening, sliding into it as quick as he possibly can and turning around to yank Mingi in by the ankle, pulling so hard that Mingi actually yelps in pain.

The snake’s fang makes it into the opening with them, just barely grazing Mingi’s skin as they back up into the tight space.

“Go!” Mingi yells, shoving Jeongin forward with all his strength.

Jeongin listens, crawling forward as fast as his exhausted limbs will let him. He follows the route of the opening until it turns into a larger cavern that the two can finally stand up in. They run- Jeongin’s hand finally finding Mingi’s in the darkness, before bursting through the leaves of a wall.

It’s thorny and it aches, but the only injury one of them sustains is some small cuts on Mingi’s arm where his sleeve had been ripped off to cover Jocie’s wound.

Mingi lands on his back and Jeongin lands on top of him, the two catching their breath as they recover from the chase.

Jeongin’s hands are shaking as he finally looks up, hands pressing to Mingi’s sides, his arms, his shoulders, his face- checking everything above the waist to be sure he hadn’t been hurt.

“I’m okay,” Mingi says, reading Jeongin’s mind. “I’m okay. Just some cuts- it’s nothing too bad,” he promises, grabbing at Jeongin’s hands where they rest on his cheeks, breath catching slightly.

Jeongin lets out a shaky breath, his jaw clenching.

“Promise?” He asks softly, his bottom lip trembling just slightly.

“Promise,” Mingi confirms, nodding slowly. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, his hands guiding Jeongin’s to rest against his chest.

Jeongin nods, sniffling slightly as he sits up- legs straddling Mingi’s waist as he lets his knees support his weight, not wanting to put anything extra on Mingi.

Mingi sits up as well.

And his hands still envelope Jeongin’s.

“Good,” he says softly. 

Jeongin clenches his jaw once more, wanting to say something to fill the silence- anything to thank Mingi for saving him yet again. But Mingi just wraps his arms around Jeongin’s waist once more, hands sliding between the backpack and his back before he presses his lips to Jeongin’s temple through the mask he still wears. The touch is too gentle for the arena, too careful to be an act for the cameras. But he enjoys the tenderness of the movement anyway.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that without me,” Mingi says softly.

“It’s fine,” Jeongin answers. “It’s not like you abandoned me. You were hurting,” he reasons. “In more ways than one.”

“It wasn’t fair to you. It won’t happen again,” Mingi swears.

Jeongin is suddenly extremely aware of the position they’re in, scrambling to stand up with a blush covering his entire face.

“We should… we should make sure we know what we have,” he whispers, kneeling back down as he practically rips the backpack off of his back to look through it. He needs to do something with the hands that have suddenly become too familiar with Mingi’s face.

Mingi just nods.

Jeongin opens it up, looking through the contents of it.

Two more apples. A small slingshot with a bag of rocks attached. Two bottles of water that are full. A pack of matches. The two throwing knives that Irelyn left with him.

Jeongin marks the inventory in his head before zipping the backpack back up and tossing it over his back.

“We should be okay until we find Irelyn again,” he says softly. He’s gone hungry enough in 10 to know how long he can survive without food. He doesn’t know if the same goes for Mingi- so he hopes that they can find some source of food around soon because he knows Mingi must be starving other than the third of an apple he’d had a day ago now.

But they need to get moving. Staying still for too long in the open can only mean trouble.

“Let’s find somewhere to settle for a while. We should catch our breath,” Mingi says, heading off in the direction of the path they’d found.

Jeongin follows behind him, hands tightening around the straps of his backpack as he says a silent prayer to the Gamemakers that the arena will stay still just long enough for him to find her.

Chapter Text

Jeongin wants more than anything to find Irelyn by the end of the day.

She’s strong and capable. He knows, realistically, that he’s probably just slowing her down. But that doesn’t make him feel any better as he imagines all of the awful things they’ve already been through without taking the other tributes into account.

He thinks about how Silas must feel. Seeing her baby cousin on the screen all by herself.

He has to get her to the end of the games. He knows he won’t likely be any help at all in the long run, but he wants to be. He wants more than anything to be.

Mingi must hear the gears turning in his brain, because the next thing he knows Mingi’s grabbing his hand tight and squeezing as comfortingly as he can.

“She’ll be fine,” he promises. “Try not to worry about her so much. She’s probably navigating the arena with ease by now,” he tries to reassure Jeongin.

Jeongin squeezes his hand back, nodding. He tries to repeat it to himself over and over again in his head, staring down at the ground quietly as they walk.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they don’t find Irelyn soon. He can’t imagine going through what Mingi’s been through already.

It’s only their second day in the arena, but it feels like it’s been years.

He wonders if the Gamemakers can make time move as fast or as slow as they want now. Now with this state of the art technology that they have full control over, Jeongin wonders if they’ve somehow extended this day past the normal twelve hours of sunlight. The desert area with the snake certainly felt like it was high noon, but Jeongin knows that can’t be possible with how long they’d been walking around since Jocie died.

The sun has finally just started to set when the next cannon sounds.

It shocks Jeongin’s entire system. He jumps out of his skin, and before too long, a second cannon fires.

He drops to the ground, pressing his hands to his ears as tightly as he can. Mingi’s voice sounds far away as he tries to ground Jeongin, his hands covering Jeongin’s as gently as he can.

Irelyn’s dead.

She must be. One of those cannons had to belong to her. He knows it.

His breath picks up impossibly fast, his heart stuttering. He gasps in air, his entire body trembling. He can hear sobbing, but he doesn’t register that it’s from him until Mingi finally pries his hands off of his ears and holds them tight in his own.

“Jeongin,” Mingi says seriously, crouching down in front of him. “It’s okay- it’s okay, we don’t know if that was Irelyn. It’s okay, take a breath, please, you need to breathe,” he begs.

He leads Jeongin’s hands to his chest, where Jeongin’s hands clench into fists in the fabric there. Mingi wraps his own hands around Jeongin’s face much like Jeongin had done earlier. He presses his forehead to Jeongin’s, whispering tiny reassurances so quiet Jeongin doesn’t even know if he’s actually speaking until the words finally register moments later.

It feels like he’s wading through molasses. He can’t feel anything but the ache in his chest and Mingi’s forehead pressed against his. 

“It’s okay. We don’t know,” he repeats, shaking his head. “We’re okay, she’s okay. I promise,” Mingi says. “We’ll find out for sure tonight. But we need to get out of the open, okay?” Mingi says.

Jeongin doesn’t realize there are tears pouring down his face until Mingi wipes them away with his thumbs.

“C’mon, stand up,” Mingi says to him, taking his hands in his once more and slowly standing. Jeongin stands with him, his legs shaking as Mingi moves to steady him.

“That’s okay, I got you,” he whispers. “Just lean on me, okay? We’ll walk until we find somewhere,” he says.

Jeongin can only nod as he follows Mingi’s footsteps. He keeps his eyes on the ground, willing the tears still pouring down his face to stop, please, stop. Mingi already thinks he’s pathetic, he’s sure. They don’t even know for sure if that was Irelyn and he’s already breaking down more than Mingi had.

Mingi just keeps a steady hand on his waist as they walk, offering Jeongin small sips of water every few minutes that Jeongin gratefully takes. 

Jeongin’s finally calmed down after about an hour, sniffling and wiping at his eyes as he leans away from Mingi.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… broken down like that. I took away time from finding somewhere,” he says softly.

“Shut up,” Mingi says to him- but it’s not malicious. It’s just gentle. Comforting. “You were upset. You’re scared for Irelyn. That’s okay, Innie,” he says, using that fucking nickname again.

Jeongin’s bottom lip trembles but he tries not to let tears spill this time.

He nods, reaching down for Mingi’s hand.

He needs it. Needs something to ground him. Needs something real, something that isn’t for the cameras, something that feels like home.

It’s selfish. But he’s decided he’s allowed to be selfish. Just this once.

Mingi smiles down at him and intertwines their fingers, keeping his pace steady and moving his gaze upward so that he doesn’t make Jeongin uncomfortable by bringing attention to the action.

The sun has finally gone down fully- the only light surrounding them is that familiar neon green fungi that Jeongin has grown used to- when they hear the Capitol anthem and see the sky start to light up with the familiar blue projections.

They can see the sky more clearly here in the maze, the canopy almost opening for them to look up at the dead tributes to remind them of where exactly they are. 

There were only three cannons this day. Jeongin wonders if the Capitol will start forcing tributes closer together tomorrow for more action for the viewers.

The first face to light up the sky is a Career’s. The boy from District 2. Mingi makes a small surprised noise. Jeongin can’t help but be surprised as well. The boy from 2 was pretty big- not as big as Mingi- but someone must have outsmarted him somehow. 

Or maybe the arena took him out the way it’s tried to take out Jeongin and Mingi three times now.

The next face is Jocie’s. Mingi forces his gaze to the ground, and Jeongin feels his fist tighten in his hold.

Jeongin wraps his other arm around Mingi’s elbow, leaning his head against his shoulder. He rubs his thumb across the back of Mingi’s hand as gently as he can- trying to provide some sort of comfort.

There’s only one more left. One more cannon to go over.

Jeongin prays that it’s not Irelyn’s face he sees next. Prays that her red hair won’t be that distorted shade of blue that’s up on the screen with the words “DISTRICT 10” behind her. 

The last face is the girl from District 8. 

Jeongin practically collapses.

Mingi’s arm is around his waist immediately, and Jeongin can’t tell if he knew this would be the outcome no matter whose face had been in the sky.

“She’s okay,” Mingi says softly, holding Jeongin up. “She’s okay. We’ll find her tomorrow, I promise. Come on, we need to get out of the open,” he says.

Jeongin tries to move and trips over his own feet, falling out of Mingi’s arms before he catches himself, one hand moving to lean against the vines to support as he steadies his feet.

But then, he realizes his hand hasn’t touched any of the vines.

He looks back at them, snatching his hand back quickly before they can grab at him.

But the vines just slowly move back into place once his hand is gone.

“Jeongin!” Mingi shouts, grabbing him and yanking him out of the way as quickly as he possibly can.

“Wait,” Jeongin says, shaking his head. “Wait, I… let me just…” He says, getting slowly closer to the vines.

“Jeongin, don’t. Don’t, please,” Mingi says, holding tight to Jeongin’s arm and trying to gently pull him away from them. 

“Just let me look at them,” Jeongin answers softly, looking at the leaves. He’s still far enough away to give Mingi some sense of comfort, but he can still get a good gaze of the leaves in the afterglow of the green light around them.

No yellow spots.

Jeongin tests it quietly, sticking his hand in slowly. The vines move away from him again, and they stay away from him this time. They don’t slowly wrap around his hand the way the others had. These aren’t the same vines.

They smell fresh. Not putrid like the others.

“These are the vines,” he says. “They won’t hurt us. Mingi, we can sleep here,” he promises, looking back at the taller boy.

Mingi is terrified, standing as far away as he can while still holding tight to Jeongin’s other hand.

“We can’t risk that,” Mingi says softly, his voice cracking slightly.

Jeongin looks at him sympathetically. He gets closer, nodding.

“Trust me. These are safe,” he whispers. “I promise.”

Mingi clenches his jaw tightly, but he looks back to the vines. They do look different. They smell different too.

And Mingi does trust Jeongin.

He breathes slowly, nodding as he lets Jeongin lead him through the vines.

He watches as Jeongin walks in first- careful, his hand still attached to Mingi’s, but not full of fear the way Mingi’s body is.

Mingi’s legs shake as he follows behind Jeongin into the wall.

The plants allow him in and none of them touch him. He knows these vines are different, but he can’t shake the fear he feels. But Jeongin’s hand is tight around his.

The inside of the wall is just roomy enough for the two of them. Jeongin leads him a little further into the wall before settling down on the ground, pulling Mingi down.

The green lights fade in and out with the glow of the fungi outside of the wall. Mingi presses the mask to his face before adjusting Jeongin’s as well, making sure they’re safe from any fumes.

Jeongin forces him to lay down.

“You sleep first. I’ll take first watch,” he says softly.

Mingi can only nod before he’s out like a light.

Chapter Text

Jeongin wakes up to sunlight beaming through the leaves of the vines above them.

He panics- shit, he fell asleep, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep, he was supposed to keep watch- until he realizes that Mingi is still sleeping as well.

Nothing had bothered them here. Mingi was safe. He was safe.

The green lights around them are dim now, the sunlight dimming the fungi around them completely. The vines have moved themselves in a way that almost shields Jeongin and Mingi from the outside world- as if they’re protecting them in this small safe bubble for the time being. Jeongin can’t help but be grateful to them for it.

Mingi was still sleeping peacefully. Something Jeongin was sure he needed, if looking at his face was anything to go off of.

He’s a little dirty, but he looks more rested, which is the only thing Jeongin can be thankful for in the arena. His hand is laid around Jeongin’s, loosely gripping it in his sleep.

His arm is bruised with a few cuts from the thorns of the last vines, but they seem to be healing slowly. Jeongin is thankful that the thorns weren’t poisonous.

Jeongin squeezes his hand gently. He can’t wait for this to be over, for both of them to go home. 

He pushes the thought that only one of them can go home away. 

If either of them makes it out, it should be Mingi. He has his own boys at home to take care of. San and Jongho. Wooyoung. It would be selfish of Jeongin to take away their guardian. Jeongin doesn’t take care of anyone at home. Everyone else is constantly taking care of him. 

Before he can think anymore on it, Mingi finally stirs. 

He stretches his arms out a bit before sitting up, taking Jeongin’s appearance quickly. 

“Did you stay awake all night? I could have gotten up,” he says. 

“No, actually. I fell asleep on accident,” Jeongin says shyly. “But we’re both okay. Nothing happened. I won’t do that again,” he promises. 

Mingi actually laughs softly at the idea they’d been in any danger at all. His mask has fallen down slightly, revealing the sweet smile he has. Jeongin looks at him and furrows his brows. 

“Don’t laugh! I could have gotten us killed!” Jeongin argues, shoving him by the shoulder. 

Mingi just laughs again. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you’re right, it isn’t funny at all,” he agrees, giggling to himself as his laughter slows. “We should eat something,” he says, digging in the backpack. He pulls out the apple from the bottom of the bag, leaving only one more for the two of them to split before they have to find another food source. 

“Wanna see a cool trick Jongho taught me?” Mingi asks, holding the apple up. 

“If it’s you making the apple disappear in one bite, not really,” Jeongin says. 

Mingi laughs, shaking his head. “No, this one is cooler than that, I swear,” Mingi tells him. He wraps both of his hands around the apple (how has Jeongin not noticed how huge Mingi’s hands are til now?) and presses his thumbs to the top of it. He presses with the heels of his hands and then with a loud snap, the apple is completely cut in two. 

Jeongin’s eyes widen. 

“How’d you do that? How did he even figure that out?” Jeongin asks, taking the apple half when it’s offered to him. 

Mingi just laughed as he bit into his own half. “I have no idea. He just eats every apple like this. He’s a weirdo,” he offers. 

Jeongin hums softly. “Reminds me of Felix. He’s always finding weird ways to do things,” he laughs softly, chewing on his small bite of the apple. 

Mingi goes quiet for a moment, staring down at the ground as he pulls the water bottle out for the two of them to share.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly.

Jeongin shrugs. He leans against Mingi’s shoulder, finding comfort in the contact.

“A little better than yesterday. It’s probably good that we both slept. Otherwise we’d be struggling even more than we are now,” he answers.

Mingi nods, handing the rest of his apple to Jeongin.

“Here. Eat. You need it more than I do,” he says.

Jeongin shakes his head.

“You’re still recovering, you need food, Mingi,” he argues.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got plenty of muscle for my body to eat away at before I actually starve. It’d make me feel better if you had more in your stomach,” he promises.

Jeongin takes the apple without any more arguments- he knows there’s no point. Mingi’s just like Minho that way. 

He glares down at the ground in front of them, his bottom lip trembling slightly before he speaks.

“Do you think Irelyn’s okay?” He asks softly.

Mingi looks down at Jeongin, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him a little closer.

“I think she’s fine. She seems tough, right?” Mingi asks.

Jeongin nods.

“She is. Really tough. Way tougher than me,” he admits quietly. But this isn’t an act for the cameras- this isn’t him playing into his role. It’s just a fact.

“She has a temper. A really bad one,” he says softly. “And when she gets upset, you can see it in the way her eyes get all sharp. She’s always… you know, trying to prove herself,” he explains.

Mingi doesn’t interrupt him.

“But she’s just a kid. She shouldn’t have to be this tough. She shouldn’t have been voted in at all. I still don’t get why they’d do that to her. To Silas,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s already had to go through so much. She’s… Silas is different than I thought she was,” he says quietly. “Chan always used to tell me to stay away from her in town. She used to look at me- before she just… cut herself off from the rest of the District. She’d stare at me and Chan would put himself between us. But she’s different than I expected. Not as dangerous,” he says quietly.

“Did Chan know her?” Mingi asks.

Jeongin just shrugs. “I think so. But… I don’t really know, I guess,” he says. “Minho took me in the night before she was reaped for her games. So I never really knew her. But I think she and Chan were close before her games. When she came back she came over a few times, but I remember… her and Chan fighting, I think? All I remember is someone yelling and then Minho was covering my ears and humming to cover the noise,” he shrugged.

Mingi hummed softly.

“Maybe when you get out of here, you can ask her about it,” Mingi suggests.

Jeongin can only scoff at that.

“Irelyn’s the one getting out of here. If it’s going to be either of us, it’ll be her. Everybody knows it,” he says pitifully, shaking his head.

Mingi furrows his brow.

Jeongin sees his jaw clench. He sees the hesitation in his eyes before he speaks.

“Jeongin… I think… you should know-”

But before Mingi can finish his sentence, a scream cuts him off.

Jeongin knows that scream. He knows the anger in it.

“Irelyn,” he says, eyes wide.

Jeongin is up before he can even register it, throwing the backpack hard over his shoulders after Mingi’s zipped it up completely. He sprints through the vines, the walls shifting and allowing him and Mingi out of them.

Mingi is following behind him, following the sound of the scream.

It’s raw and panicked, but Jeongin knows that scream isn’t meant for the Capitol viewers. 

It’s meant for him.