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ilguna · 4 years

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Belamour - Chapter Eleven (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, MURDER, MURDER PLANNING, GORE

wc; 18.6k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The opposite of summer; is winter. While summer is hot, with a loud blazing sun, and endless sunscreen and sweat. Winter is cold, bundles of blankets, weeks spent sick in bed, and hot soup that burns your tongue, every night for dinner. You don’t like either of them. If you had to choose between them, you wouldn’t.

Both are miserable conditions to be in. If you’re hot, it’s nearly impossible to reverse. You’re stuck being hot, your skin is sticky, and no matter how much water you drink, you constantly feel dehydrated. There’s no air conditioning unless you’re rich or in school, and no matter how many layers you take off, you’re still hot. Cold baths are impossible.

As for the cold, it’s not hard to warm up, if you have the right things. Endless blankets, but also shivering beneath them, waiting for them to become warm. While the house will be hot during the summer, it’ll be cold during the winter. There is no heater, and your house has no fireplace. If you’re cold, your only option is to continue to put on layers until you’re as fat as a snowman yourself.

And this might seem overdramatic, but you’d rather die than sit in the heat or cold. So, you can imagine how miserable right now is. You want to curl into a ball, hold your knees to your chest while you beg the universe to warm you up. You don’t want to be freezing anymore.

You can’t move, though. You’re stuck on your back, in the endless darkness beneath your eyes. It’s as if you’re glued to the ground beneath you. You don’t know what it is, exactly. But it’s miserable. Cold, hard and unlikable. You’d rather take your chance with the heat right now.

It reminds you of all the times your brothers have thrown you off the fishing boats. Two bodies working together. One of them will grab an arm, the other a leg, and they’ll swing you back and forth, tossing you on three. You can’t hold onto them, no matter how hard you try. There’s no kicking yourself free, either.

You always go flying a few feet over the water, bracing yourself for the impact. The moment you break the surface, your body likes to freeze, the air being knocked from your lungs. You swim desperately to the top, trying to get back onto the boat. When you were a kid and your brothers did this to you in front of your father, they always got pushed in after you.

This time, there is no dad. You swim to the surface, ready and expecting their hands to be out for you. In fact, you think you can see their hands outstretched in your direction. You bring your arms over your head, boosting yourself as much as possible. You want them to pull you the last of the length, out and straight onto the boat, where a towel will be waiting for you.

But no matter how hard you kick, calves burning from the force, or push the water beneath you with your hands, you make no progress. Over and over, you kick, you push, you get nowhere. Why aren’t you breaking the surface? You’ve been swimming for years, you should be there by now.

Your throat burns from how long you’ve been holding your breath. It’s just a little further now, it has to be. You’re sure you can feel the warm air on your fingertips, before you sink back down. Is there something that you’re wearing? When you look down, you see a pair of large boots on your feet. You try and kick them off, they don’t move.

Looking back up, the hand is gone. Your eyes begin to sting because of the water, becoming blurry. Where are your brothers? Why haven’t they come to save you? You kick harder, gritting your teeth. You should be there! It feels like two hands grab onto your ankles, and when you see, there is someone there.

It’s dad, smiling up at you. He continues to pull you down, ankle to calf to knee. What’s he doing? He’s going to make you drown. You open your mouth to tell him, but realize your mistake when it’s too late. You’ve inhaled a mouthful of water. You reach to your throat, eyes widening when you inhale through your nose. A powerful headache hits your head.

You can’t breathe. And your dad just keeps pulling you down further. He needs to let you go! Does he want to kill you? Get off! They’re waiting for you up there! What will they do without you?

Your dad presses a finger to his lips, quieting your thoughts, “Shh.” he whispers, “It’s time.” When he places his hands on your eyes, it’s dark again, but there’s an obvious painful presence in your ribs.

You inhale through your nose, eyes flying open. Your fingers dance over the rockbed, searching for your knife. Where is it? Your entire body feels like you fell down thirty flights of stairs and then some. There’s a pounding headache, and with each deep breath you take, the stabbing pain in your ribs reappear.

There is no knife, no matter how hard you search. As you stare at the rock ceiling, trying to get a hold of your breath to calm down, you give yourself a moment. Wherever you are, there’s water. Loud, rushing water. A drop of water lands on your upper lip, beneath your nose, and you figure this is what brought the nightmare on.

It makes sense, you think. Your nose is burning like you inhale water. You reach your right arm up, it’s heavy and unpracticed, and lazily wipe your nose. The moment you brush against it, another pain is appearing, this time worse. You grimace, moaning, tears welling in your eyes.

You’re hurt then. In your nose, ribs and head, at least, there’s no telling what else. But why? What have you done recently that’ll bring this on? The last thing you remember is muddy, behind a wall that doesn’t want to burst. It was… you had just said goodbye to Blaire, and you’d gotten back to the cornucopia and…

Oh.

Oh!

It was Lennox, he’d beaten you to near death, right? And you wandered for almost an hour, barely making it through the woods. You’d stopped next to the waterfall, and you were sure that you were going to die. You should be too, you shouldn’t be here right now. But you are, and that means someone found you.

You turn your head to the side, to the right where the rushing water is. You’re behind the waterfall, the water is falling down harder than it normally is. Outside is dark, like the sky is angry at you. Maybe it’s night? But a loud clap of thunder shakes the cave behind the waterfall, correcting your answer. It’s storming, again.

You don’t know how you got here. Blaire, maybe? Maybe he saved you and then came back for you at the waterfall. Found you and pulled you inside. You never mentioned the cave, though. Maybe he figured that out for himself. He’s been taking care of you the entire time.

You look to the other side too, but you’re met with a fairly distant wall. There is another set up, the sleeping bag that you never thought you’d need. Actually, you’d forgotten that in the back of your backpack. It’s usually so hot, and even when it got cold, you weren’t cold enough for the sleeping bag.

And despite the things laying around, there is no person. You wonder how long you’ve been left alone for.

The ground shakes again, but the cave holds steady. You’re suddenly glad that you’re not outside. If you were out there, you’d probably frozen over already. Not that you aren’t currently freezing over right now, though.

The sound of splashing is enough to make you look over. It’s different from the waterfall, very distinct. You wish that Blaire had left you a knife to semi-defend yourself from outside forces. You wouldn’t be able to do it well, but at least you wouldn’t be left to die.

The figure on the other side of the water seems to be smaller than Blaire. Maybe the water is just warping his figure. It’s the only excuse you can think of. That, or Blaire has shrunk several inches since the last time you saw him.

He moves through the waterfall, splashing water absolutely everywhere. You feel a whole lot of it on your legs, some on your arms. But you turn your head away to keep yourself from getting too wet. When you look over after the water stops flying, you feel your mouth go dry.

It’s not Blaire, it’s Finnick. His brown hair is pressed flat against his head now, dripping off water. He walks right past you. The only thing he’s wearing is his jeans, which are rolled up to his knees. It looks like hunger hasn’t been treating his body too terribly good, either.

He doesn’t realize you’re awake. You then realize that he’s got a silver trident in his hands, and leans it against the corner of the room. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The sponsors hardly ever gift weapons because they’re expensive. It must have cost them thousands, and it had to have been multiple people pitching in for it. If he’s had this the entire time, you can’t imagine the amount of people he’s been through because of it.

He crouches down in the corner, going through your old backpack. It isn’t until he’s pulling off the canteen strap, when you see that he had it on him. He uncaps it, puts a few iodine droplets in it, recaps and shakes. Finnick pulls out a few medical things from the backpack.

How do you tell him you’re awake without scaring the shit out of him?

You open your mouth to speak, but the moment you do, you can feel something dripping out of your nose. You reach up, dabbing your fingers in it, and it’s blood. Your nose is broken, how many times has it bled since yesterday?

You sniff on instinct, and it’s enough for Finnick to turn around.

“Don’t.” Finnick tells you, moving across the space and pulling your fingers away, “I’ll clean it, don’t mess with it.”

“Right.” you whisper, dropping your arm back onto the stone.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, “Hungry? Thirsty?”

“Both.” you answer, and he hums.

“Okay, well, we should move you, and then I’ll start a fire.”

You watch him pull on a jacket, and when he turns to face you, his lips are blue. He’s probably cold because of the weather and the water combined. When he gets a fire going, the small space might clear up. You go to ask him how you can help move yourself, when he places two hands onto the fabric beneath you.

You grit your teeth, already not liking the way this is looking. The moment he pulls, tears spring in your eyes, and you reach up, grabbing onto his arm. He doesn’t stop, and once he gains momentum, it seems to lighten up. He moves you right next to his bedroll and then a little further.

The moment he stops, it’s a good feeling of relief. He rolls up the sleeping bag, and then looks at you, “Your stomach is still pretty open, I’ve done what I can with the sponsored stuff, but it’s not working very quickly.”

“Okay.”

“Your ribs are bruised.”

“Broken.” you correct, “My skin is bruised, you mean.”

“Yeah.” he says, “work with me, it’ll be a quick pain.”

He helps you up, the pain in your side hurts, he places the sleeping bag beneath your head, and calls that good. After that, he hands over the canteen and tells you to drink away. You drink measuredly, trying not to overwhelm yourself. You watch as he gets a fire started, and it’s warm almost immediately.

“Did it just start storming tonight?” you ask, he looks over, “It was super hot yesterday.”

“Yesterday? No, it’s been raining for three days straight.” he says.

“Three days?” you ask, that can’t be right.

“Yeah, today’s the third day. The day after I found you, the temp had dropped a whole ton.”

You shake your head slightly, “How long have I been asleep for?”

“Three days, at least.” he says.

“Oh.” is all you say, you close your eyes. Three days? “You’ve been taking care of me this entire time?”

“As much as I can, yeah. I’ve been forcing water in your mouth to keep you hydrated, and I’ve gotten two sponsors since I got you. All from Anchor, too. It’s weird, since Mags normally sends me the stuff.” he slides in more sticks, the fire grows, you can feel it better now.

You hum, “Anchor’s been focusing on me.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“The trident was a gift?” you ask.

“One of the couple that I got, yeah.” he gives you a grin, “it looks nice, huh?”

“Expensive.”

You go back to sipping your water. Finnick keeps going back to the backpack, so it looks like he’s been using it as a way to store things. You reach the end of the canteen before you realize it. When you tell him this, he shrugs and pulls out one of the others and slides it your way.

That’s right, you had Lennox and Trink and Allio’s canteens with you. You go ahead and take it easy on the second one too, “How many tributes are left?”

“Five. Me, you, District One and some other person.”

“Blaire?” you ask hopefully.

He’s shaking his head, “No, Blaire died on the day I found you. At first I had thought the cannon belonged to you, until his body was brought into the sky.”

“Blaire’s dead?” you breathe.

Oh no. He died for you. There’s no doubt that Lennox had beaten Blaire to shit before his death. Blaire probably came clean about how he stole your food and how he’s been with you the entire time too as a distraction. Make Lennox and Trink even more pissed to give you a headstart away from them.

He gave you a hug as a parting gift, didn’t he? He probably knew something like that was coming. It’s why he followed you all the way around. Why he was so upset when he saw you get stabbed. He thought he was in your debt, and he paid with his life.

You press your lips together, trying to keep yourself from crying. Finnick’s staring at you, obviously taking in your expression, “You saw him?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“For an entire week.” you choke, you didn’t want him to die for you. Not like that, “I was fishing for him so he could eat. You know how in District Four, people have a need to repay things?”

Finnick’s nodding, and he sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s better this way, I think.” you tell him, “I didn’t want to do it. Who else died?”

“Boy from Seven, don’t know how. I killed the boy from Eight.” Finnick is sliding two bowls of what looks like rice and fish. He takes your water, puts in a bit of it into each bowl, and then hands it back.

He grabs the medical stuff, and comes to take a seat next to you. He starts with cleaning your nose, telling you that it’s definitely broken if you can’t tell for yourself. It’s crooked, angled to the left. He doesn’t want to reset it, and moves to your burnt palm.

“What caused this?” he asks, applying the burn cream.

“Stuck my hand in the campfire after I killed Allio.” you say, and he turns to you with wide eyes.

“You killed Allio?”

“And Eytelle, but she doesn’t count. Allio’s the reason why Lennox nearly killed me.”

“I don’t get it.” he says.

You give him a feeble smile, “I killed Allio two days before Lennox attacked me, did it during the night after he’d fallen asleep. On my way back to my bed, I stuck my hand into the campfire. Lennox and Trink woke up, I pretended I was asleep through the cannon. They woke me up, and we found him dead. Then I stuck my hand into the campfire a second time to give my hand an excuse.

“We went searching that night for a few hours for the tribute. Found nothing, went back and slept, the next day we looked again, still nothing. On the third day, I saw Blaire, and we came over here to refill on water and such. He walked me back to the cornucopia, and that’s when Lennox nearly killed me.”

“Basically did.” Finnick says, he’s turning your hand over in his, “What happened after that?”

“Blaire came around.” You feel your throat closing, “Neither of us were fast enough. Lennox stabbed me with my knife, Blaire tackled him and told me to run. When Trink tried to chase me, he took her down too.”

Finnick nods, “He definitely sacrificed himself for you. At least you didn’t die, because then you wouldn’t have a chance at going home anymore.”

“Obviously.”

“No, not like that.” Finnick says, he’s pulling up the end of your shirt, and you finally get to see your stomach. It’s a complete mess, but it probably doesn’t look as nearly as bad as it did a couple days ago, “On the first day of the storm, just before it started, the gamemakers said that two tributes could go home. You’re lucky I found you.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, and he looks at you.

He’s patient, repeating what he said, “The gamemakers said that two tributes from the same district can go home. They announced it the day after I found you in the trees. You’re lucky I found you.”

“I’m lucky you didn’t kill me.” You breathe.

“That too, I guess. Never really crossed my mind. I saw you laying there with all your stuff and knew I had to bring you back.”

You get to go home. The gamemakers let two tributes go home once in a blue moon. There’s really only been two or three instances before this. It’s a random occurrence, they feel generous and they’ll bring two home.

One year it had been two career tributes, two tributes that absolutely hated each other, you think. It happened when your dad was a kid. They brought the tributes home, and even months later during their victory tour, they didn’t talk to each other. He had no clue why the gamemakers did it, but it happened.

You’re lucky. This is pure luck.

Instead of it just being you, you can bring Finnick too. The two of you can go home, see family and go to school with each other. You’ll be sharing those looks from kids your age. And you won’t have to feel sorry for his family, and vice versa for Finnick.

Oh, you can’t imagine how Reed and Mox reacted to the news. After watching you nearly die, this must have been a relief. Finnick would have a better reason to keep you alive. Why would he bother to kill you, when the two of you can make it back? Mox probably cried his eyes out, and Reed likely wanted to do the same, but held it together until he was alone.

You let out a sputtered laugh, but don’t go any further because it hurts. There’s a smile on Finnick’s face too, you wonder how long he’s been keeping that in for.

“So what do we have to do?” You ask, “You said Trink, Lennox and someone else? Do you know who?”

“No, but I think she’s been around here lately. All I have to do is find her. A lot of tributes have been coming around here lately.” He says, “To get water and move on.”

“They were probably feeding off the pond.” You grit your teeth, eyes locked on his hands as he gets ready to clean the stab wound area.

“Pond? How far away?”

You don’t know if he’s doing this to keep you talking or not, but you decide that you might as well go along with it, “There was a deep pond, like an hour and a half from here. But it—“ he starts to rub the area, trying to be gentle. It hurts like a bitch, no matter how hard you grit your teeth or curl your toes, it does nothing, “—it drained. There was a mutt in there too.”

He hums, and when he finally stops with the rag, your skin is much cleaner. It doesn’t end there, you watch him dig through the first aid kit, how he pulls out a bandage and rubbing alcohol. You can feel the tears spring in your eyes already.

“How many times have you done this?”

“At least twice a day. It’s much easier when you’re not awake, though.” Finnick laughs, but the expression fades, he looks over at you, “Try not to make too much noise, okay?”

“Finnick, wait.”

“Can’t, gotta do it before you can chicken out. Hold still.”

“Too late, I’m—“

He doesn’t listen, placing one hand on your stomach, spreading the wound open. You feel nauseous, staring into it. But even worse when you realize what he’s going to do. You wish that you were passed out still.

He dumps some of it on your upper body, and lets it run down into the wound. The further it travels, the more it stings, and the second that it hits the stab wound itself, you’re seeing stars.

“All done.” Finnick says, as if it’ll make you feel better. He applies some cream to it, similar to the one you used for your back. He places the bandage right over the wound, and presses down the sides to make sure that it won’t come up, “Lunch time.”

He cleans up, placing everything into the backpack. While he does this, you peel up your bloody shirt to get a better look at your ribs. The more you bring it up, the more it hurts, it’s stuck to your skin.

It’s a reddish-purple color, spread all over your left side. You don’t dare to touch it, you know the moment you do, it’ll send you into a spiral of pain. You pull your shirt back down all the way after that. All you wanted to do was see.

“Here, it should be fairly warm.” Finnick’s handing over a bowl of the rice and fish. Sticking out of it, is a spoon.

You eat slowly, not really inhaling it. Finnick’s already setting out another bowl before you have time to ask. Beside it is raw fish, which makes the whole cave smell like The Square, but there’s no complaints in your mind. It reminds you of home.

“Do you know what time it is?” You ask, carefully chewing on the fish.

“Late noon or later.” Finnick says, “I’d go out there, but I’d get wet again. I’ll check the sky in a bit.”

You push yourself up from the roll. Finnick hardly pays attention, squeezing out the water from his hair. He sits at your feet, back to the opposite wall. The further you push yourself, the more it hurts.

“I’ve got your knife and stuff too.” He says, “I’ve been taking the knife with me when I go out.”

“I saw.”

Another clap of thunder shakes the cave, you finish off your food and set the bowl aside. You give yourself the last push, sitting up. It hurts, you might be skinny now, but the way your stomach rolls onto itself is painful.

You wince, pausing. So much for taking it easy. You want to get to your feet, take in the real damage. You’re hoping you won’t need to use the sword as a cane anymore.

“Help me up.”

“Where?” Finnick asks.

“To my feet, where else?” You say.

Finnick looks like he’s about to object, then shrugs. He gets to his feet, and then comes over. He kneels down, “Once I start, I’m not going to stop.”

“I hope not.” You say, and he grins a little.

He grabs a hold of your elbow with one hand, and wraps an arm around your back. You use the wall to push yourself up with your other hand. And working together through the pain, he manages to get you up.

“Want me to let go?” He asks, you’re leaning on him, trying to get the pain in your whole body to subside. The headache has become worse.

“Give me a moment.” You tell him.

It’s not nearly as bad as you thought it was. When you were going through the forest, you could feel every little movement. Every step you took, shook your entire nerve system like an alarm. A warning for you to stop before you push yourself too far. But to be fair, you did have a knife sticking out of your stomach.

“Okay, let go.” You tell him, and he carefully removes his hands. He’s still got them hovering, though. And while you walk around the cave, the pain is bad, but you’re getting used to it. It’s not like four days ago.

“So?” He asks.

“Feels good to be on my feet.” You smile, “Better not push it.”

He helps you back onto the floor, and you give him his sleeping bag back. You can sit up against the wall, it doesn’t hurt. Finnick gives you that second helping of food, and you tell him to not give you a third. You’re halfway through the small bowl before realizing you’re full.

“I’ll finish it.” Finnick offers, and you pass it over without complaint.

While he eats, you go ahead and decide that you’re willing to listen to what he’s been doing this entire time. He pauses, shrugs, and then goes back to eating.

“I was with Thyme after the bloodbath. She followed me into the woods. I thought Blaire was right behind me too, since he was so close, but when Thyme and I stopped, he wasn’t there. And Verda—I didn’t even see her.”

“She was next to me.” You tell him, “Died in the bloodbath, didn’t even make it to the cornucopia.”

“One of you guys?” He asks, you shake your head, “Oh, well, I can’t say I’m surprised. She did say that she wanted to go into the cornucopia to gather things before running. We told her not to. Anyway, after that we just stayed here, I got my trident and Thyme and I tied nets and drew in tributes to trap. Until the Eight girl came along.

“She got a hold of Thyme, had a sharp rock and slit Thyme’s throat just before I got her. And then I had to get Thyme too so she wouldn’t bleed out for hours.”

“How many times have you done that?” You ask, “It’s actually pretty smart.”

“I know.” He winks, you roll your eyes, “Plenty of times. It works pretty well when you have enough rope and all that.”

“Huh.” You yawn, and Finnick is raising his eyebrows.

“You have to be kidding me. You’ve been sleeping for three and a half days and you’re tired?”

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep awake. Must be nice to have company again.”

Finnick shrugs, “Nice to see you awake, that’s for sure. You were half-dead when I found you. I didn’t even get inside the waterfall to start when the first sponsor gift came through. You must be important.”

“You too, do you see the trident?”

He laughs, and you do too, “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

“Go ahead and take a nap. I’ll wake you up for dinner. Don’t be surprised if I’m not here when you get back.”

“Gotcha.” You slide down the wall, and carefully into the sleeping bag. Finnick is helpful and zips up to your chin. You can’t roll over onto your side or anything, so you’re stuck on your back.

You think it’s going to take forever for you to even feel groggy. But you’re drowsiest than you thought. The moment you close your eyes, you’re slipping off into the darkness.

The only reason why you wake again is because of a cannon, clear as day in the middle of hell’s worst storm. You jolt onto your elbows, the pain returns in your abdomen at the sudden movement. There is no Finnick in the cave, but he’s left you the knife.

You reach for it, fingers wrapping around the familiar pattern of the hilt. You continue to push yourself up and onto your butt. To your right, the fire is smoldering, no longer lit. There’s smoke coming from it, and you fan it away from your face.

Someone’s died, and it’s still not you. It’s dark outside, darker than it was before you fell asleep. It has to be night now, then. It’s the only real explanation. As you wait against the wall, you calm your heart.

It’s not that serious. Four people could have died out there, and you don’t think one of them is Finnick. He’s been able to kill… who knows how many tributes so far, he can probably take care of himself.

Thirty minutes pass, and then another fifteen. You want to go out and stand in the rain to see if you can find anything, but you’ll only get yourself killed. It’s another thirty minutes, and still no splashing. However, you can hear the anthem start.

“Shit.” You breathe, what if you are alone? You have to know.

You push yourself up the wall, ignoring the wobbling in your legs and the continuous pain in your stomach and ribs. The anthem hits the part where they typically show the tribute. You zip up your white jacket, and pull the hood over your head. You turn your back to the water, and go through it.

Tons of water falling onto your head while you’re already weak, is a horrible feeling. You nearly fall over, but manage not to. The moment you can look into the sky, you can see the blue outline. The rain is too heavy, you’re sure that it’s supposed to have ended by now, but it’s still there.

And then there’s a break in the rain, clear enough for you to see. It’s the District Five girl. She’s gone. The anthem is then drowned out by a flash of lightning, followed by a long rumble of thunder. If you were to take a guess, it had to have hit somewhere near the cornucopia.

It’s cold, and you know you should get back inside. But then you see Finnick moving through the rain, canteens over his shoulder, holding onto a small line of fish. He looks up to see you, and his pace slows down some. He motions for you to go back inside, and you don’t wait for him to do it twice.

Again, you back up through the waterfall. When you get inside, you toss the knife onto your sleeping bag and peel off the thin jacket. It did its job against the rain, but the waterfall has ruined it. At least your shirt isn’t soaked, but everything else is. You squeeze the jacket free of as much water as you can before moving away from the entrance.

Finnick comes through a couple seconds later, again getting water everywhere. He’s got no jacket on, though. Shirtless again, his hair pressed against his head. He looks exactly like he had when he came into the cave when you first woke up. Only now, he’s carrying a lot.

“Sorry.” You say, Finnick’s shrugging.

“Who’d you see? I honestly thought it was you for a moment.” He says, “Can you get the fire started too?”

“The girl from Five.” You grab the fire starter from your backpack. It’s still tucked into the pocket you first stuck it into. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually there’s a spark.

One by one, you place the sticks into the campfire. The fire grows, enough to get the area to feel warm again. You make sure not to sit on the sleeping bag, not wanting to get that wet too. Finnick slowly dries himself off, pulls on his dry jacket and hangs your wet one up.

“You want my shirt?” He asks.

“What?”

“My shirt, and the spare pair of socks?” He holds them out, and you cup your hands.

You catch both, pull his shirt over yours, and then get to taking off your wet socks and shoes. Finnick pulls his own dry socks over his feet, but ignores his shoes. His lips are blue again, and you think that his ears are turning a different shade too. It’s a wonder how he isn’t freezing all the time.

He goes ahead and sets out the bowls again, rice and fish. He dumps in some water, and then places them next to this fire. Finnick seems to have a routine. After he gets the bowls out, he drops in iodine into the water bottles, shakes them, and then sets them aside.

He picks the scales off the fish for a while, not saying anything. You ring out your hair, doing your best not to get it into the fire. With how wet your jeans are, you’re sitting in a puddle of water. It’s going to take forever for it to lighten up.

Finnick yawns, and then looks over to you, “Anything hurting? It’s easier to ask now, since you’re awake.”

“How many times did you talk to yourself while I was out?”

“Too many.” He smiles.

You do too, “I’m fine. It only hurt when I got up.”

“Obviously.” Finnick says, “I don’t think we’ll be getting anymore sponsor gifts. We’re down to the final four.”

“And of course it has to be Trink and Lennox.” You shake your head, “Kind wish it was Allio and Eytelle.”

“Why?” Finnick asks.

You breathe out a laugh, “They were the weak ones, compared to Trink and Lennox. Even I’m better than them.”

“Well, you’re alive. And they were dumb enough to get killed by you… you did say both of them, right? Tell me everything you’ve done so far. I never got to ask.”

You sigh, because you don’t want to relive every single person you’ve killed. But go ahead and tell him it all in vague detail anyway. You pay special attention to the times you watched Lennox and Trink take out other tributes, which was mainly during the bloodbath. You didn’t get to watch either of them kill Blaire.

Finnick seems particularly interested in how you killed the boy from Eleven, Horace, and he almost can’t believe it, “You’re telling me that little old you—“

“Okay!”

“—managed to take down him?”

“It was easy and you’re not going to believe me.”

“I don’t believe you now!” He laughs, but listens anyway. He seems impressed, and every now and then, he’ll pitch in to tell you what cannons belonged to him.

By the time you reach the first time you went to the pond with Allio, you two have narrowed down a lot of people. You tell him that you ended up killing the thirteen year old boy from Twelve. And he tells you that it’s okay, because he got the girl a day or so later.

Somewhere in the middle, you two begin to eat, and don’t go for more. Finnick is obviously tired, so you wrap it up as much as you can without leaving out details. The only time you get gory again, is when Lennox tried to kill you. Finnick agreed that Blaire had died for you, and then you’re left with the sound of rain and rushing water.

“I’ll take watch. You go ahead and sleep. I’ve had plenty of time.”

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, “I’ll wake you if anything important happens.”

“Thanks.” He cleans up, sets everything into the backpack and passes a water bottle off to you. He tells you to let the fire die out, hands over the knife, and then curls up into his sleeping bag. He zips it up to his chin, rolls over onto his side. And within seconds, he’s asleep.

He must’ve been watching over you during the night while you’ve been out. You don’t blame him for being exhausted. At some point, you figure that since he isn’t actually awake anymore, it won’t hurt to shed your wet jeans, since it’s beginning to make you colder.

You squeeze out the water, and lay them out next to the fire to dry. After that, it’s just a waiting game. You rub your thighs to keep them warm, and never your hands around the fire. You’re cold, but this is not nearly as bad as what some tributes have gone through.

The rain seems to lighten up sometime during the night. You somehow manage to get your semi-dry jeans on without causing a ruckus. The Stone where you’ve been sitting for hours has dried, and the fire is running on embers. You sit on your sleeping bag now, away from the mist of the waterfall, and continue to watch.

The sun comes up, it’s warped through the waterfall. The rain seems to be continuing, but it’s not as monstrous as before. Finnick gets up on his own, and insists for you to sleep while he’s out. Before he leaves, he asks if he should be worried about Lennox or Trink coming up this way.

“If they were smart, they should have been in the shack, which is a day’s walk from here. We should be fine.”

“Oh.” Finnick says, and then straightens up, “Oh, so the cornucopia is empty?”

You can see the gears turning in his head, “I wouldn’t test it.”

“How are you feeling?”

You shake your head, “If we get caught in a fight, I’d be worthless.”

Finnick shrugs, “Like you aren’t now? At least then you’ll be able to stretch your legs. Let’s apply more healing stuff and get the hell out of here.”

Of course he’s not listening. You can’t really complain, because it’s a good opportunity. If you’re wrong though, the both of you are dead. You apply the healing cream, and while Finnick is doing this, he promises as soon as the two of you get back, you’re free to sleep.

He shows you what he does when it comes to leaving the cave. You roll up your jeans, and take off your socks and shoes. Your jacket is fairly dry, so you pull that on. What’s left is finding a place for all your stuff. The canteen gets placed beneath your jacket, knife tucked into your belt. Finnick grabs a hold of his trident, and your sword, and then moves through the waterfall.

Again, there is no jacket on him. After you get through the waterfall, you watch him go through the water. It’s only knee-deep, so your jeans shouldn’t get too wet if they’re pulled to your thighs. You take your time with moving through, since the water is resistant, and you’re not the strongest person alive at the moment.

Finnick gets his socks and shoes on before helping you. Then, he stops, “Can I get my shirt back?”

“Oh, sure.”

Once he’s comfortable, and you are too, you bring him through the woods and towards the cornucopia, since you’ve got the path down more than he does. He says that he hasn’t been to the cornucopia since the first day, and he didn’t really plan on coming back.

But if you think that there’s no one there, you two might as well try. In half an hour, you’ve made it. You bring him around the trees and to the front so you two can look into it, while also being concealed. And lo and behold, it’s empty.

“Go.” You tell him, and the two of you move across the sand and into the cornucopia.

The sand is wet from how much water has been coming through the arena. It’s easy to walk through, despite it squishing beneath your shoes. Finnick says that he’ll take watch, you just have to find everything that he lists. You agree. You know the cornucopia better than he does.

You grab a new backpack, and slowly move through the boxes. He wants more shirts and jackets and extra jeans. You can only do so much, getting about half of it, while also throwing in a couple of pairs of socks. He wants dry food, you do your best. It looks like Trink and Lennox have gone through the bulk of it.

While you’re going through, you’re piling everything else into the middle of the building. Finnick doesn’t say anything about it for a while, until he’s watching you toss out the medical stuff, too, “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to set it on fire.” You tell him, “If we can’t have most of it, then they can't either. And what are they going to do about it? Nothing. They’re miles away.”

He laughs, liking the idea. You fill up two backpacks before you two have called it good. Finnick takes them both, since they’re heavy, and he’s in the best shape. You dig through the boxes until you find a fire starter. It takes a couple of tries, and you’re sure that it’s not going to light because of the rain.

But then a shirt catches on fire, and it’s downhill from there. You dump in some more rubbing alcohol, and the flames spread. You laugh, backing up towards Finnick. Lennox and Trink might be pissed now, but it’s going to be worse when they see they have nothing left. In the middle of the pile is the dried food that they must have been saving.

You and Finnick don’t stick around after that. You bring him right back around towards the waterfall. You’re sure that he’s going to make you carry everything inside yourself and go to do whatever he wanted to do earlier, but he’s going inside.

He starts up a fire as soon as the two of you get inside, with the new backpacks leaned up next to the first one. He seems happy, there’s a smile on his face while he gets the room warm again, “Go ahead and sleep now, (Y/n).”

You don’t argue, sliding into your sleeping bag. He zips it up like he did the first time, and you have no time to complain about your wet clothes. With the fire going, and the eventual warmth of the sleeping bag, you’re cozy and tired in no time.

The next time you wake up, it’s to Finnick’s cold hand placed against your forehead. When he realizes that he woke you up, he pulls his hand away, “Are you feeling okay.”

“Yeah.” You yawn.

“Are you sure?”

As you get to sitting up, unzipping the sleeping bag while you’re at it, you can’t seem to think of what he means. You feel fine, you’ve got a headache, but you had one yesterday. Today’s just feels a little worse, and it’s probably because of what Lennox did.

“Just a headache.”

Finnick nods, “Okay, well, your forehead is hot so,” he digs through the first aid kit and pulls out a small bottle. When he shakes it, it rattles. Dumping the contents into his hands, it’s pills, “Fever pills.”

“Oh, sure.” you hold out your hand, and he drops two in. After you take them, he feeds you. You eat less than you did last night for dinner.

Finnick’s asking if you’re hungry anymore, and you’re shaking your head, “Maybe you’ll be hungry later. You did just wake up. Are you still tired?”

“Not really.”

“Alright, well I’m going to take a nap so I can take watch tonight. You think you’ll be okay?”

You give him a look, “Yes, Finnick.”

He laughs, and curls up inside of his sleeping bag. You get back to sitting up against the wall. The fire is going, so you’re still pretty warm. You press your hand to your forehead as if you’ll be able to tell if you’re hot or not, but there’s no giveaway. You feel like you normally do.

You trust Finnick. He’s brought you this far, why would he kill you now? You’re just curious how he knew that you’ve got a fever going. It couldn’t have been obvious, right?

A couple of hours pass of you sitting up, staring into the fire, trying to keep it going because of how cold you are. You keep an eye on the supply of sticks that you’re using. You saw that Finnick had picked up a lot of them on the way back here after the cornucopia. He’s got the sticks laid out to dry, and you’re sure that they’re pretty damp still.

You give up on the fire, daring to scoot only so much closer and you curl up inside of your sleeping bag. The longer you lay there, the more you feel tired after all. You decide to give Finnick as much time as you can offer before waking him up. He doesn’t seem mad, only puzzled.

You eat a little more of the fish and the remaining rice before calling it good. The two of you work together to clean your stomach wound again, and Finnick doesn’t want to just let you lay down after that.

“There’s something wrong, (Y/n). How much do you normally eat?” Finnick says, “Because like three quarters of rice and fish is not enough. And it’s a small bowl.”

You shrug, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Except you should be, and you know this. I can see it in your face.” Finnick says, falling back, he criss crosses his legs, “You were asleep for three and a half days, and ate only two bowls, you should be starving right now.” he pauses, “You’re sick, I know it.”

“How could I be sick?”

“Maybe the weather,” he says.

“But it would have settled in by now, right?”

“Okay, the thing is, it has. You have a fever, you’re not eating much, what else? You said you have a headache? That’s the start of a cold, I think.”

You don’t say anything. You’d like to say that it’s not a big deal, and you’ll wait it out. Until you remember that it’s the Hunger Games and nothing is ever what it seems.

“What’s in the first aid?”

“Bandages and fever pills. I don’t think there’s painkillers or anything.”

“What about the stuff I grabbed from the cornucopia?”

He’s shaking his head, digging through your supply. It’s not much, nothing that would keep you from getting sick. If you are coming down with a cold, you’ll have no choice but to fight through it. Finnick said it himself, there’s no chance of sponsors anymore. Not with four tributes left in the games.

You press your hand to your forehead, sighing, “I’ll take two more fever pills, then. And we’ll see how I am tomorrow morning.”

“Or later tonight.” he says, but hands them over, “Let’s replace the bandage while we’re at it.”

“Sure.” you agree.

You take the pills, and he pulls the new bandage off as fast as he can. Your skin hurts around the area, as it will. But there’s not much you can do about it. You put on the new bandage, and Finnick insists on you drinking water and forcing the last bit of food down.

After that, you’re being tucked right back into the sleeping bag. When you complain about being cold, Finnick throws a blanket over the top of the sleeping bag to help. It doesn’t do much at all, but after a while, you begin to feel something.

Finnick says that he’s going to go and get more wood, because at this rate, you’re going to be through the supply in no time. You try to apologize, but he shrugs you off and leaves. You spend a while staring at the ceiling, thinking about how miserable it’s going to be to survive while you’re sick.

You’re going to be weak, and since your immune system is already battling a lot when it comes to your almost-closed stomach wound, broken ribs and who knows what else, it’s not going to take a lot to kill you. At this point, something as simple as blood poisoning will kill you.

You guess that all it takes is one major event to spin the games on someone. You were doing so well, until you killed Allio. Two days later, you’re being beaten to near-death. And then again, things turned when Finnick found you, and now you’re sick. It’s a never-ending rotating platform for you.

It sucks too. You’re on the last burst of the games, and you’ve come down with a cold? Out of all things to get, you’ve got an illness that is typically curable at home. How pathetic. Talk about an unpredictable ending, you’ve never seen someone die of a runny nose.

It’ll be a first, and it’ll be sad. Unless Finnick or your sponsors can somehow muster up something to get you back in, you’re going to slowly die. Oh, and you can't even imagine the looks your brothers will get, years after you die. (Y/n) Gallows, fifteen years old, scored a ten, got into the career pack, killed five tributes and then died of a cold.

A smile slowly spreads over your face, before a snort comes from you. It hurts, especially in your abdomen, but who cares anymore? It’s going to hurt until you win. In the Capitol, they’ll fix everything wrong with you. Maybe even the brain damage too, considering that you’re laughing at your own demise.

Or maybe it’s the hysteria. It’s hard to tell anymore.

You fall asleep before Finnick comes back from gathering more wood.

In the morning, you can’t bring yourself to sit up in the sleeping bag when Finnick wants you to eat. The thought alone makes you gag, and a wave of nausea settles in afterward. He tries to ask for you to take fever pills if you’re not going to eat then, since your forehead is hot enough to cook anything on it. But the idea of anything going down your throat is a no.

On the contrary to your very hot forehead, is your very cold body. No matter how many times Finnick places a new blanket on top of you, or readjusts to make it easier to feel, it does nothing. You’re still cold, your teeth are still chattering, and you’re shivering. Finnick suggests the idea of getting into the sleeping bag with you, because of his body heat.

Until he realizes that it’s not the body heat that’s the problem. It’s the fact that your body thinks it’s cold. You’re sick, it doesn’t matter how many blankets, or who lies next to you, you’re always going to be cold. So, he settles for watching over you for a while, going back and forth on things.

He comes back over, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, he pales. He presses his lips together for a while, opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, and then closes it again. A frown forms over his face, and he pulls his knees to his chest, staring into the fire. You watch the flames dance in his eyes.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that you aren’t getting any better. You can feel it yourself. He was right last night, he knew that you’d only get worse. But it’s not like either of you have much of a choice. Your mentors are done with sponsored gifts, there’s four tributes left in the games. What could buy a whole feast and then some on the first day, will buy you a packet of crumbs today.

And that’s just for food, it only gets worse with the more important things, like weapons and food. They gave Finnick's trident at the perfect time. Had they waited, he would have nothing but a knife to defend himself with. You’re sure he could learn the sword, because anyone can learn anything, but he won’t be good at it. Not as good as you are.

You have only a couple of options, and none of them are good. You can wait it out, the sickness you mean, and hope that it’ll go away in a couple of days. Normally when you get sick back home, it’s a gradual thing, it’ll hit the dip, and then go right back up. But if this is day… two? Three? You can’t imagine what the future will be like.

Because despite not doing anything this entire morning, not even sitting up, you’re exhausted. If you really wanted, you could just close your eyes and fall asleep. Even with the pain in your stomach, and the raging headache that’s going on inside your head. The slightest movement of your arms for gesturing, will have you aching.

So, waiting it out isn’t the best option, and neither is banking on a sponsor gift to save your life. And if waiting it out won’t kill you, the gamemakers boredom will. When there’s nothing going on inside the arena, they start to get creative. And you’ve seen what their idea of creative is, multiple, multiple times.

However, it’s not all bad. So far, every year, the gamemakers have introduced something called The Feast. It normally takes place in the cornucopia, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be food. The gamemakers normally choose something that the tributes need, which could be anything.

It could be food, when the food in the arena is getting scarce. You’ve watched tributes in the past fight over an apple. Something so small, but the tributes were all desperate for anything to eat. Or, it could be weapons, for the tributes that couldn’t get anything during the bloodbath. When they do that, though, it typically introduces a second bloodbath.

They would have done that earlier in the games, though. When there are about ten tributes or less left in the games. It’s to speed up the process of the tributes dying, and offer entertainment. Most of the time, the gamemakers don’t announce what’s going to be at the Feast, they just say it’s going to happen.

There’s also medicine, something that you need. You’ve hardly seen them do anything with it before. Not only is it expensive, but the chances of one of the other tributes needing it is low. Unless Finnick is also sick, and he’s not showing symptoms just yet. Unless Lennox and Trink are sick, of course.

Because you could very well be sick because of the bacteria in the pond water. With how deep and dirty the water was, and later the mutt coming around. And you were eating the fish you were catching too, so there’s plenty of reasons for you to be sick because of it. It takes a while for bacteria to really kick in, but then again, the gamemakers could have released one that was way beyond mutated.

And with that logic, it would mean you haven’t been cleaning your water correctly. Which isn’t true at all, you’ve been following what the survival expert told you on the first day. Five drops of iodine for every quart of water, and extra if you think the water is bad, and you let it sit for thirty minutes after.

You’ve been in charge of water since the first day, basically. And actually, now thinking about it, Trink and Lennox should’ve gotten sick earlier on, if it’s that case. The first day, they gulped down the water without waiting the recommended amount of time. So something isn’t right.

The only time you’ve stopped being in charge of water, is when Finnick has been taking care of you. He’ll clean the water, and give it back to you. And you’re sure it can’t be desintry either, since your insides would be turned inside out by now. You and the others have been careful where you do your business.

So, it only leaves one real option, which seems so far away with the condition you’re in. You win the Hunger Games with Finnick. If you win, it’s an automatic ticket to the medical center. The Capitol will do everything they can to fix you back to what you looked like before the games. No broken nose, no broken ribs, no stab wound, no sickness. Pristine condition. Although, they can’t do much when it comes to the weight you’ve lost in here.

If you had thought of that idea yesterday, you’d be so on top of it. But right now, you can’t even sit up, let alone think straight most of the time. You’d rather just stay here and not push yourself anymore than you have to. One bad move and you might as well end up dead.

Then again, it’s not like you have much of a choice. It’s end the games today or tomorrow, or be at the mercy of the gamemakers. And honestly, at this point, you’re not sure if you need anything else from them. You’ve come across more than your fair share of mutts, it doesn’t need to happen again.

“List your symptoms.” Finnick asks, “Please.”

You close your eyes, it’s hard to think with your head throbbing so badly, but you do your best, “Fever, stomach pains, headache, not hungry, aches, chills and tired.”

It sounds like any other cold. But there’s something wrong with this one. You’ve missed something down the line. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick, recently. Blaire, Lennox and Trink all drank the same water you did. And none of them got sick, and they weren’t acting like they had a cold, either. You got sick after Finnick found you.

Maybe it’s the freezing temperature of the cave? That can get someone sick, right? Except, all the times back home, with no heater or AC never got you sick, it was always someone from school that would give it to you. And you’d end up in bed for days, with nothing nearly as bad as this.

Okay, so maybe it’s not a cold either. The incubation is well past its due date. What else can it be?

Fish, possibly. If it’s undercooked or if it has bacteria on it--which is killed by the heat. Of course, you can eat fish raw, but you always got sick because of it, and learned your lesson after the third time. So, now you make a point of cooking your food thoroughly, and if that means burning it, then so be it. You haven’t eaten anything raw in the arena, not even the squirrels.

Another thing knocked off the list. You said this happened after Finnick found you, so maybe he is asymptomatic? It makes a little bit of sense, since no matter how many times he goes through the cold, waterfall water, he never really shows how cold he is. His lips turn a purplish-blue, but that happens to everyone.

And he would have at least one symptom, right? God, you don’t know. He’s the one that went through all the survival stuff, shouldn’t he be thinking about this more than you? When you open your eyes and look at him, there’s a crease between his eyebrows, and he’s definitely got a thinking look on his face. It’s nice to know that he’s at least trying.

You can’t really be mad at him, though. You’re the one that’s sick, you know your body better than he does. The best you’re doing right now is narrowing down the possibilities, maybe if you get down to it, you’ll feel better. Because at least knowing the sickness is better than dying to an unknown illness.

If it’s not food, because you refuse to eat raw fish--or raw anything, actually. Then that means it’s water. The bacteria has to come from somewhere. You wash your hands beneath the waterfall each time before you eat, and you dry them on the shirt so the water isn’t getting anywhere.

There has to be an instance where Finnick didn’t properly clean the water, then. As far as you know, you’ve watched him clean the water, the only exception being when you’re sleeping. But you’re not consuming water while you’re sleeping, so it can’t be any of those times. Before that.

Yesterday you had two bottles, both had been waited thirty minutes for. The first one was when you had left the cave with Finnick to go down to the cornucopia, you filled up a canteen, and it wasn’t until later into the walk when you finally began drinking. And later when you had come back, Finnick filled them up again, and you didn’t drink it until later that night.

And then there’s the day you woke up. You remember drinking down two of them before giving your body a break. The first one was fresh, Finnick had just gathered it. You watched him drop the iodine into it, though, and he shook it and set it aside for later. The second one had been in the backpack for who-knows how long.

“Help me sit up.” you say, and Finnick moves without question. He pushes the blankets off, and unzips the bag. Then, he’s carefully guiding you upright.

The headache seems to worsen for a moment because now the blood is rushing. But you ignore it for a moment, closing your eyes and pressing your face into your hands. In the two and a half days you’ve been awake, when did you drink unclean water? Or maybe you weren’t awake for it? Finnick said he’d been trying to keep you hydrated.

It’s not right, you don’t think it happened while you were asleep. You were just fine on that first day. You would have had a fever if it had happened then, and with how you were just getting into your problem yesterday, it had to have been the first day. Which bottle, though?

The first one you drank, or the second one? The first was from the waterfall, the second probably from the lake. The second one tasted just fine though, and it would have been long past the clean date. As for the first one, it had just been taken out. The harder you squeeze your eyes, the more you see white spots.

Oh. Oh, wait. It has to be the first one. It was fresh from the waterfall, he dropped the iodine droplets into the canteen, and then you got up and distracted him from waiting. He handed that canteen over like it was nothing, and you were so thirsty that you hadn’t even thought to wait.

“Okay, well, it’s a water bacteria.” you tell him, he lifts his head, “I don’t know the name of it just yet, but really, all untreated bacteria can be deadly.”

He pales, again, and hums as an answer. He seems lost in his head for a moment, and you let it be. At least you’ve traced where it began and have a basic idea of what it is. All that’s left to do, is find a way to survive it, and make sure you don’t give into it anymore.

And like you said, the only real option that you have is to finish off the Hunger Games. Make that last push, and then you can give into it. It won’t be your job to make sure you live anymore, your life will be in the hands of the Capitol. And considering that they won’t let their victor’s die, you’re okay with that.

“Fever pills and water.” you brush some of Finnick’s hair out of his face.

He makes you sit against the cold wall before moving to grab you food and such. You pull a blanket around your back and over your shoulders. Finnick hands over the water and pills, and you take them without complaint, closing your eyes and breathing deeply through your nose. Before you know it, it’s sliding down your throat.

You give Finnick the go ahead to warm up what’s left of the rice and mashed fish. You want to make it as painless as possible, so chewing a little and swallowing before your mind can tell you to stop.

“Do you know when you got it?” he asks.

You nod, and he waits for you to answer. You know that he has an idea of when you could have gotten it, already. He’s just waiting for you to confirm it, and you’re not really sure if you want to. He shouldn’t feel guilty because of it, you didn’t catch it either. But then he’ll say that he was the one thinking straight, he’s been taking care of you for a couple of days straight, he shouldn’t have gotten distracted like that.

You look Finnick right in the eyes and say; “It’s not your fault, Finn. We both weren’t thinking straight, let it go. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.” he mutters.

“You saved me, you know that?” you ask him, he’s staring into the fire again, “I owe you.”

Finnick shakes his head, “No, you don’t. I might have brought you out of the storm, but you’re sick because of the water, don’t you see that? It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“(Y/n), please.” he whispers, “Stop.”

You don’t push it any further. He’s wrong, and you hope he knows that now. You eat the food without complaint, even though you feel grosser with each bite you take. You turn down a second bowl, since you know you won’t be able to get that one down without a fight. It’s good enough for you, though.

“We need to get a move on, before the careers come around.” you tell him, and he looks over, confused.

“You couldn’t even sit up on your own.”

“So?” you ask, “Give me the backpacks.”

“We should stay here.”

“The careers are going to come up here, Finnick. As soon as they realize what we did with the rest of their supplies, their hunt begins. Trust me, I know.” you motion for the backpacks again, and he finally gives them over to you.

Five spare shirts, three jackets, plenty of socks, no spare jeans. There’s one hat--a beanie--that doesn’t look very thick. Finnick tells you that the outside is still drizzling, not a storm, not full-on rain, drizzle. It’ll be manageable to walk in, but this also means that it’s going to be fairly cold out there after you walk through the waterfall.

You’ve got three knives. One for Finnick, two for you, and your respective weapons, the trident and sword. Endless medical stuff that you don’t even think you need anymore at this point. Your stomach isn’t as open as it was when you first got stabbed. But that’s just surface stuff, who knows what’s going on underneath the skin?

It’s not bad stuff. You’ve even got fish that could last you a couple of days. Without saying anything to Finnick, you unpack all three backpacks, and then begin to fix it. You tuck the fish into a single sheet of plastic, and then use one of the shirts on top of that to secure them. You place it at the bottom with the four canteen bottles. You fold each shirt, jacket, and pair of socks.

“What’s your plan?” Finnick asks.

“We leave now.” you say, and you can already see him objecting, but you don’t care. You struggle to take off your first shoe and sock, and then give him a look for the second. He doesn’t want to give in, and the two of you stare at each other for a long time, and then he gives in. You tuck both into the backpack that you’ll be carrying.

“The rest of it, please. You can’t just say that and expect me to follow blindly, I’m not a child.” He’s following your example, seems like he’s contradicting himself.

“Here’s what I’m thinking: if I’m like this today, I’m going to be worse tomorrow. There is no medicine on the way, so it’s already out of the question.” You fold two blankets, placing them in Finnick’s bag, “We pack everything, set the rest on fire, and head to the cornucopia to see if Trink and Lennox have made it back, yet.

“It’ll help decide what to do next. If they’re not there, we wait. If they are, then we move immediately, toward the shack in the woods. It’s at least a day’s walk, but since we don’t have that time, we’ll move quicker. You give me a head start, set it on fire, and run to join me at the next place, which we’ll find out.”

“What are we doing?” His tone alone, tells you that he thinks it’s a dumb idea.

“Leading them out and away from the space they’re comfortable with.” you say, “They don’t like it out there. After Eytelle got ripped apart by the bear mutts, they’ve been freaked out since. They’re not going to like chasing us, but they will. They have no choice.

“If they’re at the cornucopia already, they’re going to be uber pissed. They’ll probably search the part of the woods that I directed them away from, which is over here. They’re like an angry bee’s nest, except they’ll keep stinging until they’re dead. One glance of us is all it takes, they’ll chase us around the arena, and I can tell you that we’ll get tired first.”

You roll up your jeans, when you lean forward, you wince, hissing. You have to stop, breathing heavily to get the pain to go away. Finnick does it for you, tucks his things into the backpack. He gets you to your feet first, and putting a backpack on your back. When you put on the jacket, you have the back around the backpack to keep it from getting wet. You zip it up to your neck, and pull the hood over the top.

“Burn these?” Finnick asks, motioning to the sleeping bags, spare blankets and backpack. You nod.

He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He gives you your sword to lean against like a cane, and grabs his trident. Then, he’s kicking everything into the fire to make sure that it burns up. Finnick holds you up with one arm around your sides through the waterfall to keep you from toppling over, he doesn’t let go until you’re on the other side.

After that, the backpacks come off. He rolls your jeans down, helps you put on two pairs of socks and then your shoes. You struggle a bit when it comes to the extra shirt, since it’s not easy at all to raise your arms above your head. You want to give up halfway through, your ribs are stabbing you and the stretching is doing nothing for your stomach.

But if you can’t even put on something as simple as a shirt, then how are you going to end the games? After the shirt, Finnick helps you with both jackets. While he’s putting on his clothes, you struggle to pull your hair out of the ponytail. You’re raising your arms above your head, your hair is wet and tangled, and you’re trying not to act like a baby about it.

Once your hair is semi-good again, Finnick secures the beanie over your head and ears, and then motions for you to lead the way to the cornucopia. You make sure that your knife is in it’s regular spot first, and then lean on the sword, using it as a walking stick through the woods.

“Explain the plan again.” Finnick says.

You nod, “We check out the cornucopia first to figure out where Trink and Lennox are. If they’re at the cornucopia, then we move on to the shack. If they aren’t, we start another fire and bring them the rest of the way.”

When Finnick left the waterfall this morning, he said that the smoke was nothing but a memory. There was no evidence of a fire at all, which means that the rain put it out, or the fire wasn’t as big as it started off. Yesterday, is a different story. Dark grey smoke was pillaging into the sky, an obvious indicator that something was wrong.

You’re pretty sure that as soon as Trink and Lennox saw, they went running. It’s the last bit of their supplies. Clothes, medical supplies, food, weapons. Everything that they could possibly need to outlast you and Finnick, and now it’s on fire. They’re going to be pissed, you know it.

You think that you’re better off than them right now. Maybe not health-wise, but with supplies? They’re not coming close by a long shot. You noticed that Lennox and Trink have a tendency to use up the bulk of what they hold onto, and rely on the backup stuff from the boxes for comfort.

It’s why you set it all on fire.

“What’s next?” Finnick asks.

“The shack is a while into the woods, but they’ll be desperate to kill us because of how mad they are. We set the shack on fire, which is a second shelter that we found, and move in as far as we can. You see that cliff?” You’re pointing to it, Finnick has to cover his eyes when he looks up to see because of the rain, “That’s our destination. We have the rest of today and a little bit of tomorrow to get there.

“They should be chasing us all the way over there. We set up a trap during the night, ambush them later that afternoon after setting a second fire.” You pause, there’s a smile forming over your face, “And then we win and go home.”

Finnick’s got a smile too, “Sounds simple.”

“Expect complications.” You tell him, “There’s a ton that can go wrong, so you’ve got to be thinking that out for me.”

“Can’t do it for yourself?”

You shrug, pausing for a moment, “At some point, I’m going to get delirious. I won’t be able to think straight. You’ve got to be my net.” You look at him, “Which you are more than capable of doing.”

“Does that mean I can be honest?” You two resume walking, you nod a little bit, “The plan is dangerous and unreliable.”

“If you’ve got another idea, I’m all ears.”

“Why not kill them here?” He asks, “Sneak up and kill them?”

You press your lips together, the smile is widening. Didn’t you say it yourself a long time ago? Back when you were in the Capitol? You’re all puppets for them, and they want a good show. You can think for yourself, but in the end, they’re going to want something better.

“Because that’s not very fun of us.” You say, and he seems to understand, you think. He doesn’t push it, and a comfortable silence settles between you two on your speed walk to the cornucopia.

It doesn’t take nearly as long as you thought it would. In no time, you’re spotting the silver building in the middle of the sand clearing. The closer you get, the more you’re able to see that the pile you created yesterday, is nothing but black charcoal and ash.

And lucky enough for you, the two of you won’t be wasting any time waiting for the other two to come along. They’re already here, standing over the pile. You and Finnick are already pretty deep into the tree line, but you back up some more, careful not to make too much noise.

You were right, as you normally are. They’re pissed, Lennox is gesturing wildly at the pile, and Trink has her hands on the back of her head. You don’t keep around to watch what they do. This is good enough for you. You and Finnick make a wide circle, and keep on the right side, next to the cliffs.

You expect that they’re going to be taking the path they’re most comfortable with, which is the one that passes by the pond. You two have a head start on them, so you hope that they won’t be catching up anytime soon.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?” Finnick asks, you snort.

“Probably throw a party in my tiny house. What about you?”

“Join you at that party, hopefully.” Finnick says, and then he looks at you, “We are friends again, right?”

You deadpan, “You don’t want to hear this, but you’re the one that should be mad at me.”

“Oh, right.” He says, and then laughs, “Yeah, we’re friends again. Which means you can’t be annoyed at me anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that, you barged in my room.”

“I was already there, it’s not like I was interrupting something.” He rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, “Actually, I think you did. I was going to take a cold shower to clear my head, and you were just there.”

“Bad timing, then.”

“It’s always bad timing.”

Finnick takes over the conversation after that, it’s a nice distraction from the stabbing pain in your stomach each time you take a step. You try to even out your answers and think before you speak, most of the time. Finnick doesn’t seem to mind, as long as you’re responding.

Even though you don’t want to, you begin to direct you and Finnick towards the pond, beginning to recognize the cliffs. You haven’t been to the shack since the first couple of days, so it’s going to be a little struggle to remember the exact way, but you’ll get there.

It would be nice to set the shack on fire, but it’s not a requirement. You can start a fire almost anywhere, it’s just that the shack will eliminate another shelter. They’ll have no choice but to sleep in the cold rain, just like how you and Finnick will be.

“Keep away from the hole.” You tell Finnick once you see it.

“You keep calling it a pond, it’s a hole?”

“Force of habit. The pond drained a while ago, it’s just a hole in the ground. You flak in it, you die a slow death. Don’t go near it, because I don’t know if I can fish you out.” You say.

“We have a rope.” Finnick jokes.

At the pond, you and Finnick take a small break. With how fast you’re walking, you’re tiring yourself out, as for Finnick, he’s Finnick. You’re sick, with two layers on, and a backpack and sword to drag along. You’re not doing so hot. But no matter what happens, you don’t sit down.

The break only lasts about five minutes before the two of you are moving on. You divert to the left again, hoping that Lennox and Trink left tracks to the shack, but you can’t find anything, and neither does Finnick. So, you have to wing it most of the way, there’s no choice.

The silence isn’t filled. It’s just the two of you walking. You listen for any voices or extra footsteps, but there is nothing. Finnick’s constantly checking behind you two, to be sure. You gave him the job of being your second pair of eyes and brain, and he’s doing it well.

For now, you try to figure out what the illness is called. Because the more you think over the symptoms, the more it becomes unbearably familiar. You’ve seen it before, you’re sure of it. You just don’t think it’s happened to your family directly. If it was you, you’re sure that you would remember, same thing goes for your brothers.

This just makes it all the more worse. It can’t be Finnick, or any of your school friends. Can’t be anyone from The Square, or their family if they mentioned it in passing. It leaves only Naida’s family, but that doesn’t seem right, either. They’re always careful with their water.

The more you think about it, the more your headache cranks up. You have to be getting close, when’s the last time anyone from Naida’s family was sick? It wasn’t during this winter, so maybe a few years back? God, it feels like it’s on the tip of your tongue.

No, not a few years. Only the winter before the last, you remember now. Naida has gathered snow from outside because it’s free water, she didn’t think anything would be wrong with it. And her kids are normally smart enough not to mess with anything in the kitchen without asking.

However, one of the boys, Taren, had stuck his hand into the pot and took out a handful. Without asking, he ate all the snow, and weeks later, was developing the same symptoms you have. The difference between you and him, is the fact that it took a while to settle in. With you? Two days, tops.

He wasn’t able to see the doctor for a while, and only got worse. He was the only one that had eaten the unboiled snow, and honestly, Naida just thought he had the flu. She placed him in a room all by himself so he wouldn’t get the rest of the house sick—her, her husband, and the three other people in the house, not counting Calandra because she moved out.

It wasn’t until he developed the rash, when she finally decided that there was something wrong. The illness has a patchy kinda rash, red with small dots. When the doctor saw him, Taren, he knew immediately, because Taren wasn’t the first to be diagnosed with it. It’s deadly if you wait too long, like any bacterial virus. And if the gamemakers allowed it to mutate, it’s working faster than the regular virus.

But what’s the name of it? You grit your teeth and glare at your feet. Taren only had it for a few days, with the right medicine, it was gone quickly. There’s not normally a lot of cases in District Four, either. It happens around, you’ve heard it mentioned before, but you didn’t see it in action until Taren had it.

Oh, come on. You think you guys even had a nickname for Taren because of it. Something catchy, and it’s hardly ever used unless you’re purposely trying to make him mad. Starts with a T… t-something… As you go through the vowels in your head, you stop at i. Ti-Taren--Typhoid!

You sputter out a laugh, glad to now know the name. There’s nothing you can do about it, but at least it won’t be eating away at the back of your head for the rest of the day.

“What is it?” Finnick asks.

“I know the name of it, even if it doesn’t make a difference. It’s Typhoid Fever, a water disease. I’ve only seen it once before, and it’s because of our family friends, the family next door, the Dorazio’s. They have a son named Taren, and one winter he ate bad snow and got sick because of it. They thought he had the flu, but it wasn’t spreading, so they knew it was something else.”

You look at Finnick, “He had rashes on his arms, the big giveaway. And it’s curable if you have the right medicine, goes away in a couple of days. Whatever the gamemakers had in that waterfall water is a mutated version of it. Horrible, works quickly, and it can very well kill me, but we’ll worry about that later. All that matters is what we’re doing now.”

“And you’re not even sure if it’s going to work.” Finnick says.

“Oh, it’ll work.” you say, “All you have to do is believe.”

“How cheesy.” he mutters, and then laughs to himself, “Is this the hysteria?”

“Haha.” you roll your eyes.

An hour later, you take another five minute break with Finnick. You’re starting to remember the path now, and you’re sure that it’s right around the corner. All you have to do is walk a little further. After the break, it’s another hour and a half before you’re seeing the shack through the trees. The sun is beginning to set, you can see the golden streams of the sunset through the leaves.

“Start the fire now, or wait?” Finnick asks, because the closer you get, the more you’re reconsidering to wait until later. But then they won’t see the smoke from the fire in the sky. You’ll have to rely on the light of the fire to lead them over, and that’s not very reliable.

“Now.” you tell him, “Take out the two blankets and set them inside. That’s going to be our starter.”

You stand outside of the door, watching the trees. Finnick confirms that it looks like Trink and Lennox had been staying inside of there during the storm. You cross your fingers and hope that another one won’t be happening anytime soon. Not only is the cave out of the question, but now the shack will be too.

Finnick lets you get a head start, since you won’t be able to move quickly. It’s only a couple of minutes before you hear him catching up, crunching all the leaves. There’s a grin on his face, and he’s obviously pleased with himself. You don’t dare to turn around to look at the damage until you’ve walked thirty minutes.

By then, the smoke has started to become noticeable. A second pillar, letting them know that the two of you were there. Now is just for the final part. You two will walk most of the night on your way to the cliffs, and then find a spot to hide for the night. In the morning, you finish the walk and set up the trap.

“Easy.” you tell him, and he seems pretty proud of himself too.

“What happens when a forest fire starts?” he asks.

“We let it burn.” you say.

The sun settles below the horizon, the sky turning a medium blue, before going navy. In no time, it’ll be black. You two walk a while longer, trying to put off eating food as long as you can. Hopefully Trink and Lennox have just started their trek to the shack, but there’s no telling if they’ve been walking all day towards it anyway.

You and Finnick hide behind a massive tree, deciding that it’s the best place to stop for the night. You’re pretty far away from the shack, you can’t even see the glow from the fire, which means that it’s a good thing you lit it on fire when you did, otherwise you would have screwed it up.

Finnick leans you up against the tree, the moment you’re sitting, you can feel the dull throb in your feet from walking all day. Your stomach hurts, your side hurts, but you weren’t given much of an option. It was walk all day or end up messing up your delicate plan.

Finnick keeps the fire relatively small, cooking the fish thoroughly. The two of you already have water, you refilled the canteens in the small stream on the way to the shack. The water is clean, and the two of you know this. You hydrate, and take more fever pills, which are getting low. You think that you’ll save the last couple for tomorrow.

You and Finnick eat quietly. He finishes a lot quicker than you do because you’re being careful with not triggering your gag reflex. When you’re sure that neither of you are hungry, he stomps out the fire and dumps a whole bottle of water onto it to make sure that nothing will be catching, and there will be no smell.

He makes you a bed in the leaves, and since it’s still raining lightly, the two of you have to get creative when it comes to blocking your face from the rain. No matter how many times you ask Finnick to be the one to sleep so that you can take watch, he shrugs you off. It’s always an automatic no.

“You’re the one that’s sick, remember?” he says, “You need it more than I do, I slept this morning, back at the cave for a few hours. We’ll be okay tonight.”

You don’t push it anymore, since he won’t even leave room for your argument. He helps you lay down into the grass, and places his spare jacket over your legs as an added blanket. It’s not warm by any means, and you’re sure that you’ll be waking up plenty of times during the night cold. But you thank him anyway.

The morning comes before you’re ready for it. Finnick is leaning over you, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. The first thing he does is make you take the last three fever pills in the bottle, and drink water. And that’s before you’ve even sat up yet.

He refuses to help you do it, sitting back and watching. You’re annoyed, because it’s already obvious that you’re worse. Moving your arms is a struggle even more than it normally is. You get yourself up and onto your elbows first, and then get to your hands. You just barely get up and next to the tree, and don’t consider going further.

Your muscles ache, it’s not immediately painful, but the constant throbbing is making it hurt. You rest, drink water, and let Finnick clean up the camping spot before you get up to move with him. It’s just the last bit of the walk, and you tell yourself this over and over until you start to believe it.

It’s the final stages, you’re sure. Tomorrow, you’ll be dead or not movable. While yesterday seemed impossible, today is immeasurable to that. You’re not even sure if carrying the backpack on your back or using the sword as a cane is possible. But still, once Finnick’s ready to go, you force yourself to be ready, too.

“Let me help.” he begs, holding out his hand for you. There’s a look of guilt in his face, and some tears too, you think.

“You didn’t help earlier.” you snap, because what’s the point of making you do it alone earlier, if he’s just going to help you later? But when you look at him again, you see that your tone has taken its toll.

You give him your hand, and let him carefully guide you to standing. He doesn’t let you go until you have the sword in your hand to lean on. And before you can even get it, Finnick’s pulling the second backpack over his shoulder. So, now not only is he running on a few hours of sleep from yesterday, he’s carrying two backpacks and the guilt of what the sickness has done.

You don’t bring it up, and you get to walking instead. You’re not nearly as fast as you were yesterday, which means that Lennox and Trink will get closer and closer. But with every thirty minutes that passes, you’re getting closer to the cliffs. What used to be so distant and grand from faraway, seems to hold true up close, too.

It’s another hour of walking before you have to take a break. You try to keep on your feet, but the moment you feel yourself tilting to the side, it’s over. Finnick just barely catches one of your hands, stomps on your foot to keep it in place, and carefully lowers you to the ground like that.

“We can stay here as long as you want.” he says, moving your hair out of your face. He presses his hand to your forehead again, but nothing has changed. You’re as hot as a furnace, and yet you’re so cold it’s not funny. You sit there for a couple of minutes before deciding it’s time to get a move on.

He helps you up, and wants to half-carry you as much as possible, but you tell him it’s not realistic. You keep with your sword, and promise him that the next break is around the corner. When in reality, you’re not considering it until the sun is in the middle of the sky.

Thankfully, it’s around the same time you two make it around the cliffs. Finnick lays you down on your back, and you close your eyes. The world is spinning too quickly, and he needs to set up the trap before it’s too late. You do your best to keep awake, knowing that your words are slurring.

“Make it look like I died.” you tell him, “Take the spare clothes and stuff ‘em with leaves. Take the extras off of me, it’s not like they’re doing anything, anyway.”

Finnick frowns, but listens. He takes the hat to make it look like your head. He takes off both layers of your jacket, and slips a shirt off of you. He places one jacket back onto you, and then uses the other. The only real part left anymore is the pants and the shoes.

“What now?” Finnick asks, you turn your head in the direction lazily, expecting it to be far away, but it’s right next to you. It looks like he’s mirrored your position.

“Your jacket on the legs. One of us has to lose our shoes.”

He doesn’t say anything, laying the jacket where the legs should be, and then slipping off his shoes and a pair of socks with it. He stuffs them, and digs small holes to keep them in place. You can’t see it with how you’re laying down, so you struggle to sit up and look at your masterpiece.

It might be the delirium that’s making you think this way, but it looks just fine to you. Now it’s time for the final part. You lay back in the leaves, letting the soft rain hit your face. You’re so tired, and you miss when Finnick asks a question the first two times around, so he kicks your shoe and jolts you awake.

“What?” you ask.

“The last part? You said there’s a last part?” he crouches down next to you, moving your hair out of your face.

This vaguely reminds you of when you were dying near the waterfall. Only then, you were sure that it would be gruesome and painful for everyone back home. Healthy one minute, dead the next. But Finnick came along and saved you from that, even if you’re still recovering.

As for right now, this isn’t gruesome. It’s painful for sure, the headache, the blood rushing in your ears each time you move too much. The dizziness, the stomach and rib pain, your teeth from all the chattering, and your body temperature. However, unlike last time, you could die peacefully this time around.

“Walk about ten minutes from here, start a fire, and come running back. I’ll stay here and nap.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Finnick says, he’s frowning.

“Who cares?”

“I do. And as your second brain, I can’t agree to it. There has to be a better idea.”

“Ten minute walk.” you insist, “at least there, and then you can run back. Please, just ten minutes of sleep, Finnick? They shouldn’t be close.” you reach for his hand, and he lets you have it, “Please? It’s the last push. Just a little further, and we go home. Promise.”

He doesn’t like it, he wants to tell you no and move on. But instead, he shakes his head, sighs and sheds your backpack. He leaves it right next to you, as well as your sword. If anything were to happen, you could defend yourself if you move quick enough.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Finnick says.

“Walk.” you tell him, “Ten minutes, count it. Run back to me when you’re done. I’ll be here.”

He nods, doesn’t say anything else. You watch him disappear into the woods, and then rest your head back on the ground, closing your eyes. You don’t even stand a chance against the fatigue.

It doesn’t feel like fifteen or so minutes when Finnick comes back. He’s looking a little rushed when he does. You want to ask him so many questions, but he’s not leaving room for it. He gets you onto your feet, gives you the sword, and throws the second backpack over his shoulder.

“We have to go.”

“Why?” you ask, not budging when he tries to pull you along.

“They’re here, they’re coming. I’m pretty sure they saw me. We have to go--’

“No, Finnick. This was the plan.” you motion, you’re feeling awake now. It has to be because of the prominent danger. You have to kill Lennox and Trink before they kill either of you, “I’ll stand here, you follow my directions. Take the backpack contents and scatter them like you were looking for something, go.”

You hand it off, and he listens. It’s mainly medical supplies, but they’re clean and have nothing on them. You and Finnick are sharing a dangerous look with each other, before he’s reaching for his knife to make a wound on himself. It’s bigger than he means it to be, and he bleeds all over what used to be the sanitary bandages, and your white jacket.

It looks like a murder scene.

“What next?” Finnick asks.

You can hear voices in the distance, shouting. It’s loud, the pounding of their feet against the leaves. They’re coming, time is up.

“Scream, loud. I’m dying, cry for me.” you tell him, “This is it, Finnick. Jump when they get too close.”

Before Finnick gets down onto his knees, in front of your fake body, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s doing, when he cups your face and presses a hard kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, he turns you around, and then heads straight for his part of the plan.

You move quicker than you were during the walk here, positioning yourself behind the tree. Everything seems so surreal, like the last twenty-four hours didn’t just happen. You didn’t condense a ten day walk into one and a half. You didn’t just draw in two dangerous tributes to kill. Finnick didn’t just kiss you.

You’re not on the brink of winning.

When Finnick doesn’t scream immediately, you want to move around the tree and scold him for it. But just as you twitch, he lets out the most blood-curdling scream that you’ve ever heard. Worse than what Eytelle had let out during her torture with the bear mutts. Finnick has topped them all.

You can feel your blood run cold because of it, actual chills running down your spine for once. The more you stand here, the more awake you become. You have to be ready for whatever walks around the corner. Tears gather in your eyes, you grit your teeth to keep them away.

And then you hear them, loud and clear.

“What’s the matter, Finnick?” It’s Trink’s voice, sickeningly sweet like she’s talking to a child. Another chill runs down your spine, you can’t imagine what Finnick is feeling right now.

“Go!” He sobs, you can feel the breath he takes in, in your own chest, “Leave me be!”

“Too late for that.” she says, “You’ve fucked up big time. Leading us on like this, a trail of fires? What did you think was going to happen?”

“You take him, I’ll finish off the girl.” Lennox says, you close your eyes for a moment, your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Don’t touch her.” Finnick says, his voice hardening out.

“You don’t get to make a decision like that.” Lennox says, and you can hear Finnick grunt. You wait until you hear the clink of his trident against Trink’s sword, and when it comes true, you whirl out from around the tree.

Lennox is over your body, sword prepared in his hand. He lifts it, going for the kill on your placebo body, until he spots you. You bring the sword up and above your right shoulder, like you’re swinging a baseball bat in P.E. Breathing heavily, you swing and try not to let the momentum knock you over.

He barely moves out of the way, stumbling. His eyes seem to light up at the sight of you, not half-dead after all. You know it’s because he’ll be able to make your death more interesting now. But you won’t be dying, not so close to the end. With Finnick fighting Trink, you’ve got Lennox all to yourself.

And personally, you think it’s time for a little bit of payback for the damage he did to your body.

“Still alive, huh?” Lennox asks, “Thought the stab would’ve killed you by now.”

“My sponsors actually like me.” you hiss, giving him a smile, “They sponsored me twice while I was out cold. What about you? Get anything for your troubles?”

His nostrils flare, jaw clenching as he swings his sword, hard. You catch it with yours, but with the force it hits, you have to catch your balance.

“Not looking too hot. Guess they didn’t like you that much.” he spits.

“No, it’s because the medicine will be useless once we win the games.” you say.

You swing at him now, and when the first doesn’t work, the second surely does. You catch his dominant upper arm, watching the crimson turn his blue shirt red. He’s not happy.

“I’m going to kill you, just like how I killed the boy from District Three. Beaten to death and spit on.”

“Try me.” you snarl.

The talk is over, and it’s clear. You try your best with fending him off, and at one point, when you take a swing for his legs, he stumbles over. It gives you plenty of time to back up and check on Finnick. He’s got the upperhand on Trink. They’re about the same height, but she’s got more muscle, still.

You’re able to watch her disarm him, but he does the same to her. It’s a standoff, and once she realizes this, she takes off running. Finnick goes after her, not even thinking about his weapon. You tilt your head, and see three weapons glinting in the sun. He’s out of a knife, too.

With one eye on Lennox, you continue to back up. You pull a knife out of your belt, watching as Trink breezes by a tree. Finnick’s close behind, it’s going to be easier to kill her with a weapon. She’s so far out of your range now--not even in sight--that it’s useless to try and kill her. So, you throw the knife at the nearest tree to Finnick’s right.

He doesn’t question it, yanks it out of the bark and runs.

Looking at Lennox, he’s got a murderous glare. His sword is strong in his hand, and with no Finnick to back you up anymore, you’d say you’re screwed. Except, you aren’t. You’ve got the mountain behind you. And if he wants this kill, he’s going to have to work for it.

You work up the sword, and he’s prepared to deflect the swing, but you throw it instead. You don’t dare to stay a second longer, wheeling yourself around and taking off up the slope. Hand-in-hand with the fast turn, is dizziness. She seems to be kind to you now, so you let her settle while you struggle with running.

It’s not easy, being so weak and trying to run so quickly. You suck in air every chance you get, not really focused on breathing out. You have to make it up, have to tire him out before you take him out. This is a breather, even though it doesn’t look or feel like it. But it’s room to make a plan. As long as you keep your pace, you’ll keep out of his grasp.

You get to the top, and then what? Fight him? You have nothing but your knife, and he has his sword, you think. You risk a glance behind you, to check to see where he is and if he has his weapon. There is no sword, though. He’s just running.

A quarter of the way up, you rip off the jacket and throw it back at him to slow him down. He moves out of the way easily, and determination sets in his eyes. You’ve got so much time. No sword means that he can’t just slash at you, he’s got to have a better idea than that.

Halfway up, the fatigue starts. Your knees buckle a bit, trying to get you to give up, but it’s not going to happen. You’re going to live. The pain in your stomach and ribs is nothing. Your heart pounding in your ears and the headache constantly knocking back and forth in your head, is nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Give up!” he yells to you, as if you’ll listen.

You push harder, you can almost see the top now. There’s black spots eating away at the edges of your vision, similar to what happened when you were dying. But you’re not. You’re not dying, you’re fighting to stay alive. And what proves that, is the adrenaline still coursing through your body.

You nearly trip over a simple rock, not paying attention to where you step anymore, more focused on the destination. Lennox sounds tired behind you, it doesn't even come close to how you’re feeling. You’re sucking in air as if you’ve woken up from that god-forsaken nightmare of drowning in the ocean again. There’s sweat everywhere on your body.

For the first time in days, you’re feeling warm--more than warm, hot. That furnace has traveled from your forehead, to the entirety of your body. This is unfair.

One foot in front of the other. There’s a simultaneous burning in your calves and thighs. All you want, is to get to the top.

And then it happens, the break in the trees, you don’t even dare to get to the very top, afraid of falling off and dying at whatever lies at the bottom of the cliff. You turn to Lennox, and the two of you stare at each other, huffing to try and catch your breaths. He’s in much better shape than you are. All he’d have to do right now is crush you, and you’re over with.

He seems to realize that, creeping up on you like a rabid dog. Someone is desperate to get you over with. You bet you’ve been like an itch in the back of his mind, ever since you got away because of Blaire. You won’t let him down, you refuse.

Your legs are jelly, and so is your mind. You’re so caught up in his movements and studying them and whether or not they mean he’s going to lunge, that you almost miss the cannon, clear as day.

You think it’s Finnick, killing Trink. But Lennox thinks it’s the other way around, and you know because of the grin that flashes across his face, “Let’s make that two?”

He jumps now, and it’s not enough time for you to move out of the way. His body slams into yours painfully hard, the two of you tumbling. You kick, and punch whatever you can reach, to get him off of you. It’s not effective, but there’s a rising scream in your throat, loud and aware of what this horrible scene is a reflection of; the last time you almost died.

“Go!” You scream, tears gathering in your eyes.

The moment that Lennox gets a good upper hand on you, he’s going to kill you. He’s not going to just sit around and take care of you slowly, he’s going to finish you off so that he can go home. He doesn’t want to give a show, he wants to get rid of the girl that’s ruined it all for him.

“No--!” you shout, watching him place his legs on either side of you. The restrictiveness is an immediate panic. He leans forward to secure your hands down, but the moment you buck your hips to the left, towards the edge of the cliff, he’s flying off.

He scrambles to try and catch himself on the edge, but his fingers slip over. The only thing that remains is his hand on your wrist, the only thing that’s holding him above what’s lying beneath. Your arm is bent painfully, tears gathering in your eyes. You have no choice but to hold on as you try to figure out a way to get him to let go.

His grip is hard, unrelenting in your hand. He’s nervous, you can tell by the sweat, but he’s not going to let go. You manage a peak over the side, genuinely curious as to what lies beneath, and you’re not disappointed.

High crashing waves, a dark blue sea. Sticking out is large spikes that have formed over time because of the wave pattern. And with the darkness of the water, it means it’s deep. If you let go, and the height doesn’t kill him, the spikes and the lack of knowing how to swim, will. You’re the only thing keeping him from death, right now.

“If I go down, you’re coming with!” Lennox shouts.

It’s perfect timing, because you begin to slide. You try and hold onto anything nearby, but there is nothing. The trees are too far, and the grass breaks off easily. You have to get him to let go, or you’re going to die with him. You’ve come this far, you can’t go now.

Your fingers fumble with the knife on your belt, trying to unsecure it. It’s a struggle, doing it with two hands is easy, one is hard, but it’s even harder when your hands are shaking because you know you’re going to die, otherwise. It falls out, next to your hip, you sweep up the handle, and pause for a moment.

Stabbing his hand could work, but the movement of sitting up could kill you, too. But so far, you’re not seeing a second option, and no matter how sweaty your hands are, you’re still with each other. So, you take a deep breath, holding it. You let go of his hand, and work up a small burst of energy to get this over with.

You sit up, bring your arm over your head, knife in hand, and lean over the cliff to stab into his hand. It goes right through his skin, and straight into yours. Your burnt hand has gained a new problem, with the blade sticking out both ends. Lennox lets go, eyes wide out of shock.

The knife slips out too, and you barely catch a glimpse of his falling body, flailing through the air. You fall back onto the solid ground, heaving air as nausea sprouts in the back of your throat.

There’s loud crashing through the trees, like a ton of elephants coming through it at once. You can’t bring yourself to look, afraid of what you’ll see. And it's not like you have the energy anyway.

You’re struggling to keep your eyes open, eyelids fluttering. Just a couple more seconds, you’re waiting for something. It sounds. The cannon sounds, you breathe out.

“(Y/n)!” you hear, just before it’s over.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair lacuna #lacuna

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its-love-u-asshole · 7 years

Text

Just Another Visit [fic]

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei (feat. yamayachi and kagehina)

Summary: Despite his desire to deny it as much as possible, all Kei wants is to spend the weekend with his boyfriend. However, the universe seems determined to make him suffer, and an interruption comes in the form of his happily dating teammates, all of whom have no clue about Kei's relationship. Great.

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Note: So glad to finally post this! This was a request for @lena-lady !! I hope you enjoy it <3 Big thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading this over ^^

Read on AO3!

Two minutes.

Kuroo's train would be here in two minutes.

Kei checked his phone for the fifth time in the last thirty seconds, scowling as time refused to pass, purposefully trapping him in the same tense moment. He felt sweat beginning to collect at the back of his neck, and he hoped it would stop there. Stupid Kuroo. Stupid train. Stupid train schedules. Stupid anxiety making him show up way earlier than he needed to every time.

It was too hot outside to be this worried...

Kei's eyes widened a bit, and he was thankful no one was around to hear the slight choking noise he made in the back of his throat. Too hot to be worried, if he was worried, that was. Yeah.

Because he wasn't.

Not in the slightest.

Kuroo came to visit a lot these days, there was no reason to be worried.

Kei pulled his phone out again, choosing to not note his clammy palms as they clutched the overheated casing. It really was scorching...

There were two notifications lighting up his screen from fifteen minutes prior which he hadn't bothered to respond to. It wasn't like he needed to, Kuroo would be there soon, and they were the usual kind anyways...

Kuroo Tetsurou: Alright sounds good, I'm almost there ヾ(*ΦωΦ)ﾉ

Kuroo Tetsurou: I can't wait to see you.

Yeah. No response needed...

One minute left. Damn.

Kei stuffed his phone rapidly back into his pocket, blaming the heat he felt on his face on the weather, and willed his lips not to curl up at the edges. He could already hear the train in the distance, loud against the rails, and it did a good job of making his nervousness and anticipation collide into a weird concoction of excitement inside him. It was something he refused to show on the outside, not here. He didn't want to seem lame, or worse, desperate. That mattered, didn't it?

Well, it wasn't like he cared either way.

As the sound got closer, Kei swallowed, one hand reaching down to tug at the edge of his t-shirt. Ah, there was his other stupid problem. His fingers rubbed at the cheap material, his glaring eyes giving himself what must've been the tenth once over since he'd left the house. The shirt was plain, with simple geometric patterns splayed out on the navy blue fabric. Along with it, he wore white shorts. Simple, practical. This was how most people were dressing, after all, it was the summer time. It only made sense, lest he die from heat stroke.

Still, he felt exposed, his scrawny arms out on display, his pale skin threatening to burn under the onslaught which were the sun's rays. His limbs felt too long and awkward to not be covered up by sweaters and jeans. Winter clothes always suited him better in his mind, he loathed summer clothes, detested the heat which he was forced to deal with.

But he probably looked fine.

Normal.

It didn't matter if he didn't though. Who cares?

Kuroo wouldn't. Right? He never had before, unless he just hadn't wanted to say anything about how awkward Kei looked in summer wear. Ugh. Kei glared at sight of the train coming closer, his heart beating a rate way too fast given how he was only standing.

Ever since he and Kuroo...well, ever since they'd started dating, he'd been worrying about the most annoying things. Appearance, how smart he seemed, how he laughed or how his voice sounded when he talked...

He fretted over all of it, and it was awful.

It wasn't fair, how the third year captain could pull those reactions and thoughts out of him. Kei wondered why he allowed it, but he wasn't naive enough to think he was simply being pulled along into this. No, he'd been an...active participant from the start, whether he liked to admit it or not. Something about Kuroo had that effect on him, and he didn't quite get why. Well, he knew the basics. He obviously liked Kuroo. It was why late practices turned into even later practices, just the two of them. It was why walks back to the Karasuno bunks became less lonely, it was why occasional texts turned into routine. Getting his phone confiscated at the dinner table, not getting enough sleep, care packages, Skype calls, the whole lot. Honestly, he should've seen it coming. But Kuroo had been a whirlwind for Kei, one he'd succumbed to willingly, and really felt no intention of getting away from.

It was weird, how little he resisted, but then again, there was no real reason to at the time. Earlier, he'd thought it out in depth. About how Kuroo was a third year and things couldn't possibly work out, or how Kuroo would get sick of his reserved personality at some point. In those scenarios, the relationship wasn't worth the effort.

But Kuroo was a determined bastard, and it was as if he knew every single obstacle Kei had conjured up in his mind. He jumped over them effortlessly, with his words, his convoluted and cheesy speeches, and his overall affection. Kei wasn't used to any of it, but he had no choice but to accept it, couldn't deny it felt good. Kuroo was one thing he couldn't resist, it seemed, and shockingly, he couldn't build up any rage about it.

So, he'd have to see where things went, and right now...

Kei took a deep breath, willing the heavy thoughts away as the train began to pull up in front of him, the gentle whoosh offering a much needed breeze on the hot day. It offered minimal relief to his internal struggle however, and he couldn't help how his breath caught when the doors opened in front of him, revealing his boyfriend with the usual black mess of hair.

Kuroo's eyes locked with his own as the third year stumbled forward, nearly losing his footing as he stepped in front of Kei. The older boy was slightly out of breath too, almost as if he'd fought to be the first out the door, the first to step out. Kuroo was the picture of excitement, all for Kei.

"Wow," Kuroo said, almost to himself, completing the image. Kei felt the butterflies in his stomach go mad at the observation, and he willed himself to breathe normally. Normally, he might make some snide comment, but it wasn't like he looked much cooler than Kuroo anyways, standing two feet from the train door.

Damnit.

Kuroo's eyes widened, breaking away from the shared gaze to shamelessly scan over the rest of Kei, and it made the blond scrutinize his own outfit all over again. Maybe he looked painfully unattractive after all...

Kei found himself glaring at the ground all over again, the flush traveling down the back of his neck unpleasantly. Meanwhile, the remaining people filed out of the train, eventually leaving them in moderate silence, unmoving.

But this always happened, Kei realized, yet he never got used to it, never knew how to break this weird tension which occurred whenever they'd been apart for too long. It was strange though, because it wasn't a strained or uncomfortable type of silence. Kei didn't know what it meant, just knew every time Kuroo stepped off the train, the blond forgot how to breathe. Subtly, Kei lifted his eyes to look over his boyfriend as well, but the action didn't help his heart rate decrease in the slightest.

Kuroo was the opposite of awkward in his summer clothes, the red short sleeve shirt showing off his toned arms, tight in just the right areas. Kuroo filled it out nicely, Kei couldn't help find himself thinking. Whatever. Kei reasoned that if Kuroo really felt like pointing out Kei's bad fashion choices, the blond could find something to poke fun at on him. He didn't know what but...he would. But as Kei kept looking, he knew it was easier said than done.

Kuroo wore gray sweats, probably a choice given how the captain hated how cold Kei kept his room, and Kei knew from experience how low they would come to hang on Kuroo's hips after an afternoon lounging around in bed.

Kei blinked, shaking the thoughts away for another, less embarrassing time, if it was possible.

There was a lanyard looped around Kuroo's neck too, holding mostly keys and miscellaneous charms with Nekoma's name on them. However, among them sat the measly volleyball charm Kei had sent him in a care package. It had been an impulsive move, one he'd made after worrying whether or not he was giving back as much as Kuroo in the affection department. Humiliating. But naturally, he'd found some lame, heart shaped volleyball charm, and had shipped it off before he could give it a second thought. And oh how he should've. It was so stupid, so simple, but the fact Kuroo actually made use of the thing had the flush burning Kei's skin.

There was hardly anyone around them now. Kei felt like he might explode from the same tension between them, rocking on the balls of his feet, and he thought maybe, just maybe, the tension was welcome.

At the gasp worthy realization, Kuroo finally decided to speak, stepping forward until he was abnormally close to Kei given social standards, barely pulling himself back at the last minute. Kei felt the other's breath against his lips as he backed away. "Uh...I mean. Yeah actually, wow is what I meant." The smirk was back, accompanying the fond tone in a mix which ended up working. Only for Kuroo, of course. "Did you miss me?"

Kei sent him the most unimpressed look he could muster, and on cue, Kuroo placed his hand over his heart in mock anguish. It was a familiar dance between the two of them, and by now, Kuroo had to know it was more of an affirmation than anything else.

Kei was never good at admitting his feelings, but he had his ways, and Kuroo seemed to be one of the only people who could pick up on his emotions when they did manage to shine through.

Kei snorted as Kuroo's hand dropped from his heart, the third year shooting him an excited smile at getting the blond to laugh. Dork.

My dork. Oh god, shut up.

"Well, I missed you too," Kuroo said with a wink, but his voice was annoyingly sincere. Kei covered his smile with the back of his hand as Kuroo fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, chewing his lip in obvious thought. It would've made Kei feel awkward usually, but he felt too high on cloud nine to dwell on it before Kuroo continued. "Missed you a lot actually, heh..."

Kuroo's hand twitched forward, as if to reach out for Kei's, to pull him in and indulge in all the contact they'd been starved of.

Skype calls and text messages could only satisfy so much.

Kei leaned in, nearly tripping over his own feet from the thought of being wrapped in Kuroo's arms, despite the heat of the sun boring down on the pavement. It almost became a reality too, until a few loud shouts and laughter from afar broke the spell between them, and they jolted apart, embarrassed.

Ah right, still in public.

While the station was fairly vacant, there were a few groups in the distance. They could've gotten away with a kiss or a hug probably, but public displays of affection always made Kei wary, nervous even. He often wondered if it offended Kuroo, but...

The other just smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head before he straightened his posture, looking around the station curiously. His gaze was intense, searching, and Kei would've questioned him, had the invisible light bulb not gone off a moment later in Kuroo's head.

The captain's face lit up, and he grabbed Kei's wrists with a smug expression. "This way, c'mon!"

Before Kei could protest, he was being dragged along through the station, following Kuroo at a jog around corners and past groups of people chatting. It was too hot for this, as minimal of exercise as it was, and Kei was on the verge of complaining when Kuroo stopped after a bend.

Kei adjusted his glasses as he glared at his boyfriend's triumphant face, brain struggling to catch up in such nauseating weather. "What are you...oh."

The area they were in was more enclosed, offering less exposure from the outside. While it made the space slightly muggier than what Kei would’ve preferred, it was devoid of people. The apparently secluded corner of the station offered no reason for anyone to search for it either.

"I found this place last time I was here," Kuroo said with a shrug. "My train got here early and I was waiting for you, so I explored. Didn't think it would actually come in handy til now..."

Kei rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight a smile. Kuroo thought he was so smooth, when really one comment or action from Kei could undo him. Kei was barely realizing this, though they'd been together a few months. As flustered as it made him feel, he was beginning to learn how to use it to his advantage. "And how will you put it to use exactly, Tetsu?" Kei separated the syllables of the other's name, loved the way it rolled off his tongue, and watched as it had the desired effect.

Kuroo's eyes widened as he made a small, choked noise, thrown off by the sudden intimacy. He should know better though, Kei thought. When it was only the two of them, things changed.

It didn't take long for Kuroo's grin to return tenfold, his hands finally coming forward to wrap around Kei's midsection, and Kei welcomed the embrace, heat be damned. Sometimes he was still hesitant about returning the touch, unsure of how much of his affections were actually wanted, but it had been especially long since last time he'd seen Kuroo. His hands came up around the other's shoulders, for once not caring about how low his defenses were, how vulnerable something like this made him.

He'd found himself caring less and less about those things as he and Kuroo continued to date, mostly because Kuroo never made him doubt how serious the relationship was to him.

Such a sap.

But well, he wasn't exactly complaining.

Kuroo's lips barely brushed against his as the captain spoke, and Kei could feel his lips curve upwards. "I'll show you, sweetheart."

Kei shivered pleasantly as his lips were covered, his mouth almost immediately opening up to Kuroo's in a routine surrender. Kuroo was a great kisser, Kei had learned, but Kei picked up on things fast, and he was confident in his own abilities now when it came to pulling reactions out of the older boy.

Kei swiped his tongue against the roof of the other's mouth, delighting in the groan he was rewarded with. Kuroo's lips fit right against his it seemed, and Kei was more than happy to sacrifice his need for air in order to have a second longer, a millisecond more of Kuroo's taste.

Their lips made light smacks whenever they separated, bouncing off the walls around them, and Kei thought he would definitely pass out from the additional heat being created.

Kei felt his head spin, and all from a kiss, he wondered if it was like that for everyone when they kissed, or if it had more to do with the fact he was kissing Kuroo.

Probably the latter, he realized reluctantly.

Kuroo must've been the same way though, breaking away to plunge back a second later, covering Kei's lips again and again like he couldn't get enough, didn't have a limit to how much he could kiss the blond. The thought was intoxicating, and Kei kissed back greedily, savoring the slickness and the taste of mint as he unknowingly backed Kuroo against the wall.

Kuroo laughed into his mouth, grip tightening, but as amazing as the kiss was, they both had to take a break eventually. They broke apart, panting and foreheads touching, and Kei felt his feet stumble, his vision taking a while to come back completely. In short, the kiss had been dizzying, and he didn't care one bit.

Kuroo grinned, pulling away to push his hair back and lean against the cool surface of the wall. His hands remained on Kei's waist though, rubbing small circles on his hip bones underneath his shirt.

"Miss me yet?" Kuroo asked with a laugh, but the effect was lost due to his breathlessness, the way his right hand came up to gently cradle Kei's face. It was too much for Kei to handle, having so much feeling directed at him, so he closed the gap once again, brushing his lips quickly against Kuroo's.

The third year's face lit up, his expression nothing short of dopey, and Kei made sure to document it instantly into his mind. That look was his, no one else's, for as long as he could have it.

"Idiot, you should know the answer."

Kuroo grinned, satisfied as he stole another quick kiss. "Yeah, you're right." Kuroo was giving him one of those looks again, like Kei was the best thing in the world or something equally ridiculous. Kei had called him out on it once, but Kuroo hadn't been perturbed in the slightest, confidently dubbing it his 'damn I have the best boyfriend ever' face. Kei had thrown a pillow at him.

There was a lull in conversation, a beat of comfortable silence which Kei was seldom able to have with anyone other than Kuroo and Yamaguchi, before Kuroo's face lit up again. "Oh yeah! I got you something, close your eyes."

"You...wha--" Kei could barely question it before Kuroo set his bag down on the floor, rummaging through it excitedly until he found what he was looking for. Come to think of it, his bag had looked sort of overfilled...

"Why?" Kei asked, not that he was really against getting each other gifts, after all, they sent each other little things all the time. But this wasn't exactly a special occasion, or at least not one Kei knew of. "I...didn't get you--"

"Yes yes, I know. I got this for you because I felt like it babe," Kuroo said with a laugh, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Kei felt his heart involuntarily swell in satisfaction at the endearment, choosing to pout at the words as he waited for Kuroo to unveil the surprise.

However, Kuroo paused before pulling the mystery item out into the open, shooting Kei a scolding look for having his eyes wide open. Ah yeah, guess he knows me well at this point.

With an aggravated groan, Kei shut his eyes, thinking twice about opening them mid wait to defy Kuroo.

Kei would deny it aloud, but it was cute when Kuroo got like this, and the fact he'd actually gotten something for Kei made it harder to not become flustered.

Kuroo was being over dramatic again, letting them sit in silence for longer than necessary as he no doubt held the item in his arms, probably staring at Kei in the creepy way he always did. Kei blamed the rising heat under his skin on the stuffiness of the area they were in as he fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt.

"Okay...open!" Kuroo's voice was brimming with excitement, and maybe a hint of...nerves? Kei didn't have much time to think on it, because when he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the best thing he'd ever seen.

The plushie was slightly oversized, large and poofy enough to be a decent pillow. It had large, doe-like eyes, with a wide snout. The features were obviously modified to look cuter, even the dark green spikes which traveled down its spine, contrasting against the lightness of the body. The dinosaur's forearms were rounded and soft, dangling at its sides while the legs hung down in the air. Kei was pretty sure if he set the plush on his desk, it would sit perfectly on the chubby legs.

It was, for lack of a better word, adorable. Though Kei loved accurate dinosaur models and detailed encyclopedias, it was a well-kept secret he couldn't resist things like this, though he actually owned few. After a certain age, it was rather frowned upon for him to continue having stuffed animals or cutesy dino stickers, so he'd let the fixation with them die away. Well, or so he thought.

He stared at Kuroo's gift with rapt attention, in awe. He wanted to hold it. The only thing keeping him from sweeping the damn thing into his arms and squeezing it was his unmatched need to look cool, but even that was fading fast here.

Around Kuroo, he found his walls began to slip without him realizing it, and this was just another example. It helped Kuroo knew his interests so well, and his gifts never disappointed, mostly because any gift from Kuroo was stupidly sentimental and genuine. Kei hung the charms he was given on his cork board and his key ring, wore the armband when he could get away with it, and kept every single horrible drawing and haiku from Kuroo's letters.

In short, he was pretty much the epitome of done for, and he didn't know why he allowed it. It was impossibly embarrassing, but at least he wasn't the only one. Kuroo kept all Kei's presents too, showed them off whenever he could, and impulsively bought Kei more.

And now this.

Kei swallowed, about to raise his arms to receive the present in the calmest manner he could, when Kuroo pulled it back. God damn.

"U-uh well, I know it's not like the figurines you have and stuff," Kuroo began, clutching the plush to his chest and oh my god did it squeak? It squeaks. Oh my-- "I saw it and thought of you is all, but if you think it's lame I can take it back."

Take it back? Wha--

Oh. Kuroo thought he didn't like it. Kuroo was nervous about giving Kei something he wouldn't like. Kuroo Tetsurou, with his unbearable confidence and infuriating smirk, was stuttering and avoiding Kei's eyes.

Kei could've laughed, because for most people, this was probably rarer than a paranormal sighting, but this actually wasn't the first time he'd seen Kuroo like this. Kei learned a long time ago how easily he could turn Kuroo into a mess, was still surprised by it. But seeing Kuroo with a light blush on the top of his cheeks, clutching a dinosaur plush to his chest with his muscled arms, it was more than Kei could take for some reason. A surge of fondness traveled through Kei's body, propelling him forward.

It really had been too long since the last time they'd seen each other.

And didn't Kuroo know anyways? Deep down, Kei couldn't hate anything to do with him.

Wordlessly, Kei took the plush from Kuroo's hands, marveling at how soft the material actually was (seriously, how much was this thing?) and before he could convince himself otherwise, brought it to his face, hugging it fiercely.

Fuck, it was so soft, what the hell? Kei rubbed his face against the dinosaur's snout, ignoring the flush which was no doubt spreading over his face. The thing was thankfully large enough to hide him somewhat, and the whole time, he felt Kuroo's eyes on him.

It was humiliating, but it was either this or verbalize how much he liked the thing, and he wasn't about to do that. It was only him and Kuroo anyways, he would live. It wasn't like Kuroo hadn't seen him do embarrassing stuff before.

The thought sent another beat of affection through him, and he squeezed the dinosaur harder to resist it, making the plush squeak louder than before, almost enthusiastically.

Fucking...

After an unbearable silence, during which Kuroo made several choked noises, Kei finally raised his eyes to observe his boyfriend, and the result was about twenty times more flustering.

It was like Kuroo's "smitten" smile had been cranked up to one hundred, the captain on the verge of exploding from joy, face flushed and all. Fuck, he was practically vibrating.

Kei blanched, sending what he hoped was an intimidating scowl towards the other. "Quit it!"

"Tsukki!! You like it!" Kuroo ignored him, his voice way too loud no matter how secluded they were. "Babe, you're so cu--"

"Shut up Kuroo!"

But the other was apparently too happy to heed the warnings, and before Kei knew it, he was wrapped in a bone crushing hug which he couldn't seem to mind in the slightest. Kuroo smelled like mint and whatever horrible body spray he'd used in the morning, but it didn't matter. Kuroo's smell, his warmth, Kei could stay enveloped in it for hours.

Still, it was too hot to be this close outdoors, and Kei wriggled, trying to free himself from the hold. Times like this called for the secret weapon..."Hey...c'mon, Tetsu--"

Kuroo groaned, and his hold actually tightened, and at that point, Kei knew it was hopeless to try and escape. "Kei, you're trying to kill me."

"Well I mean..."

"Hey!" Kuroo said with a laugh, lightly pinching Kei's side.

The blond couldn't help but snort, however, there was only so much of this he could take before he began to sweat. If Kuroo really wanted, he could hug Kei to death at home, where it was cooler. Kei squirmed again, making sure to not squish the plush too much in the process. "Tetsurou c'mon, it's hot."

"Alright, alright," Kuroo said, pulling away with a wink. "You have a point there, it's pretty hot, and it's not just you."

"Oh my--"

"But," Kuroo added, his voice softening as he linked their hands together. The third year's golden eyes shone despite the shade, his smile warm and genuine. This, this was the look Kei couldn't tolerate. It was so sincere, so loving, and completely directed at him. He didn't deserve it, but he didn't want to let it go for anything, and it scared him. "I'm happy you like it, well, at least I think you do, heh..."

You're still asking that? Idiot.

Kei couldn't think of anything else to do but squeeze Kuroo's hands, letting a small smile finally show on his lips as he felt the plush press against his body, a comfort which coupled nicely with the roughness of Kuroo's hands in his. His voice was barely a whisper, but he knew Kuroo heard it, the words echoing loud in the space around them. "Yeah, I do."

And while Kei seldom believed in things without faults, he let himself believe the weekend ahead would be close to perfect.

It was on the walk home when Kei's life turned a step closer to hell.

He'd admittedly been lost in the comfortable bubble around himself and Kuroo, his hand brushing against the other's every now and again, his steps hurried as they made way for Kei's home.

And then it had happened.

"Oh, hey, is that Tsukishima?"

"Huh? Yeah? Yeah it is!"

"Hey Tsukki!"

Fuck.

Up ahead, Kei could see his teammates approaching, but luckily not all of them. Yamaguchi, Yachi, Kageyama, and Hinata were dressed in casual wear instead of sports clothes (for once), and were carrying various shopping bags.

A day out for the two couples probably. How nice (gross).

A lot of things ran through Kei's head in that moment. Should he ignore them? Should he run? What should he do with the plush? His automatic instinct was to jump a few feet away from Kuroo, seeing as how none of his teammates were aware they were dating. Not even Yamaguchi. Kei felt sort of guilty about that one, especially since Yamaguchi had told him about his relationship with Yachi right away...

But part of Kei's warped mind kept insisting Kuroo would realize how boring and average he was at any moment, and having his best friend try to support him through a breakup would be devastating to his pride. However, with each month he and Kuroo dated, the worry was pushed further and further back into his mind, most days anyways. Regardless, telling Yamaguchi hadn't been something he'd been able to do.

Kuroo backed away from him too, aware of Kei's secret. Really, Kuroo was too great sometimes. He didn't mind at all keeping their relationship under wraps for the time being, telling Kei he could reveal it whenever he was ready.

And Kei was definitely not ready now, in the middle of a neighborhood sidewalk. But, it seemed the universe didn't care what he wanted. Awesome.

Kei turned around slowly, putting on the most neutral face he could for a 6''3 teen carrying a dinosaur plushie, and hoped he could brush this interaction off quickly. Kei didn't dare look at Kuroo, could practically feel the amusement radiating off the older teen. As the group of couples got closer, Kuroo leaned over a bit, whispering into Kei's ear. "Why didn't you just drop the plush? I would've picked it up."

Kei shot him a look which could probably only be described as 'have you lost your damn mind, I'm not dropping shit.'

Then he'd have to wash it, and it most likely had to air dry, which would make the fabric all stiff and--

"Oi, why is Nekoma's captain here?!"

Kei's thoughts froze, and he felt Kuroo drift away from him, and it was way more disappointing than he liked. He directed the sudden surge of displeasure at the orange fluff ball who had asked the question, looking down on the hyper excited boy.

At least he's not jumping like usual.

"Yeah Kuroo-san," Yamaguchi added with a smile. "Are you visiting family or something?"

Ah, yeah. Kei supposed they could go with that. Kei also considered attributing Kuroo's presence to training, but even with all of Kei's development with volleyball, him seeking out Kuroo was still probably suspicious.

"He's," Kei began, ready with a plethora of excuses, when Kuroo spoke at the same time, both of their voices too quick to be even mildly natural.

"Yeah, family stu--"

"Training with--"

Kei's eyes widened, and he and Kuroo shared a distraught look, trying to recover. For two usually snarky people, they were pretty pathetic right now. Hinata and Kageyama may have let it slide, but Kei saw the way Yamaguchi squinted at him, and Kei avoided doing any of the fidgeting motions which he knew his best friend could recognize as him lying.

The two couples were staring at them in confusion when Kuroo cleared his throat, explaining their lie further. "Uh...well both. I was training...with my family, just practice games you know?"

Yachi tilted her head to the side, her pink ribbon bright and vibrant against her blonde hair. "I didn't know you had family here Kuroo-san."

Kei saw Kuroo swallow, and Kei almost felt bad for making him lie. It really went against Kuroo's code of living, but Kei would make it up to him somehow. When Kei stopped being such a loser about this, he'd clear it all up (or so he told himself). "Well...yeah, they're more like close family friends, but I call them family. Uh, anyways, I was heading back to the station to go home when I ran into Tsukki here!"

Kageyama blinked as he scrolled through his phone, pausing to eye them both critically. Hinata was leaning against him shamelessly, like he was meant to be there, and Kei did his best not to grimace. "But...the station is the other--"

"We took a walk and time got away from us," Kei said as calmly as he could, defaulting to his usual bored tone, like the walk and Kuroo had severely inconvenienced him. "He should be getting back though, right Kuroo-san?"

The honorifics felt weird on his tongue, especially after weeks of being on a first name basis, but he could deal with it. All they had to do was walk towards the station after saying goodbye, and then they could take the long way to Kei's house. It was annoying, but it was the only way.

"Yeah probably," Kuroo said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I have some time to kill but I am tir--"

That sentence was the final mistake, Kuroo knew it too, seeing as how Kei could see him tense from the corner of his eye as Yamaguchi's demeanor relaxed happily, grabbing hold of Yachi's hand with a blush.

Oh no.

"Oh yeah? Well before you go, do you guys wanna grab some food?" Yamaguchi smiled radiantly, and Kei already knew he had lost. There was no way anyone was saying no to that.

Damn his friend for being so stupidly nice and welcoming. Even with an intimidating friend like Kei by his side all his life, Yamaguchi never failed to be a ray of kindness.

Shit.

"Yeah! I want waffles!" Hinata joined in excitedly, already pulling Kageyama in the direction of the cafes they were familiar with. The raven must've been in a good mood too, hardly getting an insult out without blushing furiously at his boyfriend's cuteness. Gross.

Kei exchanged a look with Kuroo, one he hoped wasn't too telling, before Kuroo was smiling easily, giving the answer Kei knew he couldn't escape.

"Ah, why not?"

Normally, Kei's sweet tooth would've overpowered his worries, considering how many pastries and cakes were offered at the diner they'd chosen.

However, there was only so much of Hinata eating he could stand to watch before he lost his appetite.

"Ey Tsukishima, I washh gonna ashk you earlier but," Hinata started, his words muffled from a mouth full of the waffles he had doused in syrup. No one else seemed concerned about this. "What's with the dino?"

Kei clutched the plushie in his arms tighter, whether out of anxiety or the fact he hadn't gotten over the damn thing yet, it was so great. Stupid Kuroo, choosing today to be sweeter than usual.

"Oh yeah Tsukki, I was wondering that too," Yamaguchi spoke up from where he was lounging in the booth, and arm wrapped lazily behind Yachi as she ate her parfait. "You don't...uh...usually buy those..."

It went unnoticed by everyone else, but Kei saw the way his best friend's eyes focused on him ever so slightly, like a missile to a target. Yamaguchi was testing him. The freckled boy knew Kei had a soft spot for stuffed animals, but he also knew Kei avoided buying them. Plus, with the weird interaction between Kei and Kuroo from earlier, Yamaguchi was no doubt suspicious.

Kei had to tread lightly, but he resolved to finally come clean to his friend privately within the next few days. Hiding things now would be too troublesome.

"Akiteru sent it to me," Kei said with a bored shrug. "Must be some kind of joke."

Yamaguchi pursed his lips together, unconvinced but finding nothing unbelievable about the excuse. Akiteru had the tendency to be embarrassing, especially when it came to buying Kei gifts. Ha. "Ah, that's sweet of him."

"Whatever."

Yamaguchi cranked his smile up a few notches as he fiddled with a strand of Yachi's hair, and Kei momentarily forgot the situation because of it. Well, at least Yamaguchi was acting less and less nervous around his girlfriend. When they'd first started dating, he hadn't been able to as much as sit next to her without worrying about it.

Not that he could judge, Kei was sure he and Kuroo had changed a lot with how they acted around each other too, and the thought was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Being this close to someone romantically...Kei would've never believed it. Again, he blamed Kuroo's persistence, but of course deep down, it was way more than that.

Kei wondered what comments Yamaguchi would have about his own relationship, had Kei actually told him from the beginning.

Yamaguchi was still staring at him, because he could tell when Kei was thinking hard about something, the hand in Yachi's hair slowing in its ministrations. The tenseness between them went pretty much undetected by those eating food, but Kuroo, bless him, was skilled at reading the mood of a conversation. And, with his captain like instinct, he moved to diffuse the situation in any way he could. It was simply how he did things.

Too bad he couldn't have picked a better topic.

"So Yamaguchi," Kuroo said, giving his usual easygoing smile, his tone holding the smallest ounce of teasing. "How long have you been dating this angel?"

Fucking Tetsu.

Bringing up anything to do with boyfriends and girlfriends was what Kei was trying to avoid.

Yachi lit up like a fire hydrant, dropping her spoon onto her plate as Yamaguchi's smile turned sheepish.

They were cute, sickly cute. Kei smirked, unable to resist his own urge to mess with his friend. Maybe Kuroo knew it too, and that was why he'd asked the question in the first place. It certainly distracted Kei.

At first.

"Ah well," Yamaguchi said, rubbing the back of his head as Yachi relaxed into his side. "Only a month or so but..."

"It feels like a lot longer heh," Yachi jumped in. She fiddled with her bow, trying to not let a blinding smile completely unleash itself on her face. "B-but that's probably just because I liked Yamaguchi-kun a lot longer before that..."

The last of her sentence died off in a whisper, and Kei caught the way Yamaguchi's hand slid off her shoulder to squeeze her arm, pulling her closer. Memories of sitting up against Kuroo on his bed assaulted him, and Kei's breath hitched. It made Kei's skin tingle as his own arm brushed against Kuroo's, and suddenly he regretted not being able to do the same, whether or not he hated PDA.

Kuroo's hand moved discreetly under the table to squeeze Kei's, a small comfort to hold them over. He hadn't seen or touched Kuroo in so long, he kept forgetting how strong the pull was. He could sense Kuroo's strain too though, with how hard his grip was, and how this throat bobbed with a swallow. Kei gripped the hand back, smoothing his thumb over Kuroo's skin, and he felt the third year relax somewhat. Kuroo knew how to calm him sure, but Kei was getting pretty good at calming the other down too, recognizing when he longed for more. Kuroo was a sap like that, but Kei liked him all the same.

"Nice going both of you," Kuroo said softly, and Kei thought it was the end of it. Until Kuroo started to slowly smirk, obviously very pleased with his words. "You know, I have a thing for blonds myself, my babe happens to be one."

Nope nevermind. I hate him.

Too bad Kei couldn't kick Kuroo under the table without jostling the rest of the group.

"Waa Kuroo-san, you have a girlfriend?" Hinata asked after swallowing his next mouthful, and even Kageyama's eyes widened a tad in interest. Kei guessed he couldn't blame them, when he'd first met Kuroo, it would be weird to imagine him having a person who could keep up with him. Now though, now Kei knew Kuroo was a huge dork underneath all the captain bravado. "She must be so cool!"

"Well, she's a guy but yeah, he's very cool."

Kei had to fiercely will a blush away. Instead he chose to glare at the table, trying to see if it would disintegrate on command.

"You have a boyfriend?" Yamaguchi asked, and Kei could feel his eyes on him, but he would not make eye contact. Then it would be all over. "Since when?"

Don't you--

"About four months," Kuroo said, his smirk growing as Kei looked at him. Technically it was nearly four and a half, but whatever. Didn't matter. "Happiest four months of my life."

Kei rolled his eyes, mostly because it was all he could do without incriminating himself. "Oh please--"

"Aw! So cute!" Yachi cut him off, and it seemed everyone was bent on making Kei's life hell, because Kageyama had to jump in right after.

"You go on dates n’ junk?"

"Duh Bakageyama! We go on d-dates!" Hinata had no volume control, and Kei was grateful they were sitting in a more isolated part of the cafe. The orange ball of sunlight wore a slight flush, but he kept Kageyama's gaze, and Kei seriously wondered how they dated at all.

Although, watching them during practice, it was painfully obvious. And even today, while they ate or walked, there was rarely a time where they weren't touching or leaning on each other in some way. It was a subtle form of intimacy, but it was there none the less, as powerful as Yamaguchi's and Yachi's.

Kageyama scowled, his voice rising as well, and actually, Kei took back all his disbelief. They were perfect for each other. Idiots. "I know that! I was just trying to make conversation!"

"Well you suck at it!"

"You--"

"Actually," Kuroo chimed in, his voice laced in amusement, and the couple automatically turned to him in confusion. "He and I prefer to stay in, but we go to the movies and out to the mall a lot."

Kuroo paused then, his expression softening into something Kei was only used to seeing in private, and it made his heart race. The look was unfair, and he hadn't quite figured out if Kuroo was aware of this or not. “Honestly, it doesn't much matter to me. I just like being around him."

Yeah, completely unfair.

The worst part was, fictional boyfriend or not, Kuroo was being completely serious. Kuroo had told Kei the same words before, to his face, in the same soft and genuine tone. Kei couldn't deal with it then, couldn't deal with it now. Everything inside him screamed at him to reject it, to push the emotions away because they were dangerous. Falling victim to those words would only hurt him in the end, but he couldn't leave them behind. Not when Kuroo said things in that voice, with such an honest look on his face.

This stupid third year, who hated lying and avoided cursing, who sent Kei cheesy postcards and good morning texts...he was too good to be true, and as much as Kei tried and tried, he couldn't find a reason to doubt him.

Kei squeezed his plush tighter, suddenly compelled to squish his face into the softness once more. It was a gift from Kuroo too, and he wouldn't dream of forgetting the fact.

Regardless of the strange surge of affection Kei was battling, Kuroo was still being an annoying shit, and if Kei didn't want to give himself away, he had to do something.

Kei sent his boyfriend a look, one which was neutral in form, but he hoped it communicated something. Some sort of telepathic message like what the hell are you trying to do?

Kuroo only grinned brighter though, triumphant, like he'd beaten Kei at some sort of game. This was Kuroo's plan of course, because though Kuroo couldn't actually show any affection at the moment, he could at least have some fun with Kei in other ways. Bastard, trying to find a loophole in every situation.

It was both admirable and frustrating.

The rest of the couples were looking at Kuroo in awe before blushing themselves, no doubt feeling the same way about their respective partners. The wave of easiness and subtle exhilaration rushed through the air, like the feelings themselves became airborne, infecting everyone with the need to feel close to the one they loved. Kageyama seemed unsure of how to expel the affection inside him, and eventually decided on slumping against Hinata like a heavy bag while Hinata gasped in surprise. After a minute, though only Hinata was physically smiling, Kei observed how they both beamed, obviously not bothered by anything in the world.

Maybe this had been Kuroo's cruel plan all along, to make Kei crave the affection he'd been so spoiled with up until this point.

But surprisingly, Kuroo rubbed the back of his head, his expression and words more bashful than anything. "But, I'm sure Tsukki here gets sick of me talking about him all the time while we text," Kuroo said, keeping up the facade lazily for good measure. Kei eyed him critically, not bothering to take notice of Yamaguchi's gaze returning to them after the weird spell had been broken.

Had he not meant to say it?

It seemed unlikely. Kuroo got more and more careful with his words every day, but...

"Tsukishima, you and Kuroo are that close?" Yachi asked, her words purely inquisitive with no hidden urging, but for Kei the question was a danger zone. Or at least, it should've been. For whatever reason, the anxiety and paranoia from before seemed minuscule and unnecessary at the moment.

Kei couldn't stop staring at his blushing boyfriend, who was now staring intensely into his cup of coffee like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Kuroo had never once avoided Kei's eyes, not since they'd first started dating, and Kei was not a fan. Kei loved Kuroo's eyes, how they shone and widened, moving with emotions. He wondered if this was how Kuroo felt, why he always tried to catch Kei's eyes, always lifted his chin to make them share the intimacy of sight.

Kei swallowed, his eyes softening as he began to pet the plush's back, letting the words flow before he could find reason to stop himself. "Mm, we are I guess. I don't really mind him...talking about his boyfriend like that..."

Kuroo's head shot up, his hand jerking in surprise, almost knocking over his coffee. Kei had to stop himself from laughing.

Dork.

Kuroo grabbed the cup quickly, schooling his expression into the same easy grin, but Kei dared not look at him after that. Kei could feel the other practically vibrating with happiness, and while it was nice to know he was the cause, Kei didn't know if Kuroo would be able to resist his usual affections if Kei acknowledged him.

Although, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't.

Kei meant what he said anyways. He didn't mind when Kuroo told him mushy things, or got him gifts, made him cheesy playlists, or sent him affectionate texts. In all honesty, he didn't mind it even a little, though he liked to outwardly label it excessive. Because well...he returned those sentiments, albeit in his own, more reserved way. And seeing how happy it made Kuroo when he did...it made it worth it.

He felt Kuroo squeeze his hand extra tight, and that was answer enough. Oh yeah, that happened. Oh well.

Kei guessed they just made each other happy. Why he had to hide it, he wasn't sure. It was probably due to the same old fear of the happiness being taken away, but at the moment, even that felt illogical. What had happened to him?

It was a crushing realization, to admit how happy he was, to ponder the fact he might just be okay with being that happy. It was a dangerous feeling, but he couldn't bear to smother it. This certainly wasn't the kind of revelation he wanted to have in a cheap diner across from his volleyball teammates, but well, he guessed his life had always been a shit show.

He'd much rather be in his room, pressed against Kuroo when he had thoughts like this, and maybe that also signified how much of a goner he was.

Kei glanced across the table, catching Yamaguchi's knowing eyes before they were back on his girlfriend, and Kei watched his best friend's face practically light up as she smiled at him. Hinata and Kageyama weren't much better, in fact, Kageyama was now cleaning Hinata's syrup marred face in a disgusting display of fondness.

It was way too much PDA for his liking, and an hour ago, he would've been actively repulsed by it. Now though, now he could only wonder if he looked as love struck as they all did when he looked at Kuroo.

As the question crossed his mind, he found his gaze cautiously drifting back to his boyfriend, and from the light blush on Kuroo's cheeks and the smiles they were both trying to hide, he got his answer.

Yeah, they probably were both idiots just like the rest of them.

#adri writing #kurotsuki #haikyuuwriters #kurotsukki #ficsforvera

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