Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Capital knocked both Grace and Simon out the moment they’d climbed up into the hovercraft.

This was the only reasonable option, because the next thing Grace remembered, he was waking up in some odd, sterile room. The lighting of the room was a soft yellow, the setting set low so that he wasn’t immediately blinded by opening his eyes. There was nothing in the room besides the bed he was laying on; no doors, no windows, nothing. Even the several tubes he finds in his right arm extend to the wall before ending, most likely having all the medical supplies needed for him on the opposite side. That was also how Grace found he was naked, but he didn’t particularly mind that part much; he was warm, compared to the either blisteringly hot or freezing cold temperatures in the arena, and the bed sheets felt nice on his bare skin.

Speaking of his bare skin, Grace tentatively tugs his left arm from out of the covers. His left arm was still scarred, but it looked far more healed then what it was in the arena. Grace doubted that the Capital would be getting rid of said scar; whenever Victors got a scar of such an expanse, the Capital usually ate it up, apparently loving the look it gave the Victor. Though a lot of Grace’s other scars seemed much less prominent than before; he could still feel the scar that was left behind by Annabelle’s blade on his forehead, but it nearly blended it with the rest of his silken feeling face. He appears to have been scrubbed clean and pampered in some form; his nails were cut into perfect, smooth ovals, his hair felt soft and fluffy for the first time since entering the games, and the grimey feeling he’d long since gotten used to was all but gone. His glasses were folded on the side table, also appearing to have been cleaned, and Grace eagerly grabbed them and slipped them on.

Grace looks around the room a bit more with a frown. He was completely alone in the room; well, probably not ‘completely’ alone. Grace would bet money there was a double-sided wall of some variety somewhere where numerous medical professionals and staff were watching him. That, or there was a camera somewhere in the room. But where was Simon? He’d also been knocked out, same time as Grace. He was probably going to be freaking out, right about now, if he’d woken up yet. Has he woken up yet? Or did they kill him, on the premise that there should only be one Victor? No, they wouldn’t do that. He hadn’t been thinking about it at the time, but now that he was, he was sure that the Capital loved the two of them. They usually loved romance stories between tributes, even if only one or neither of them survived. This had been the first year ever that there were two Victors, and given how they had openly proclaimed their love on live television, the Capital would do anything to keep them together for sake of reviews and money.

Still, Grace wished he was with Simon now. Why were they keeping them apart? It’s not like it was going to change anything; one way or another, Grace would be seeing Simon again. Did they want to broadcast their initial reunion live? That was most likely the case, but still, Grace saw no point in that. He was sure he would see the point, if he wasn’t so peeved about Simon not being there. But he was peeved, seeing as he wanted Simon to stay close with him. They’d not left each other's sides, save for whenever Grace went to the feast. Grace winced at the thought of that.

Grace goes to sit up, only to be physically restrained. He has to tug the blankets back somewhat to see the issue; there was a restraining band around his waist, keeping him in place. And wow, was he always so thin? He was sure that he looked much worse in the arena, but as of current he could easily count each rib, and his hip bones were jutting out. The sight made Grace shudder and pull the blanket back over himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible once more. Surely, some more sleep wouldn’t hurt…

Sleep, unsurprisingly, doesn’t come to him easily, seeing as it never did before the games. So he’s left thinking of Simon, which eventually causes his mind to drift to the various other people in his life; Rocky would be ecstatic, right about now. Grace—and now Simon—were the first Victors from District Twelve in Twenty-Four years. Right about now, Rocky and Eva would both be putting together a banquet for Grace’s sponsors, and reviewing the questions for his and Simon’s final interview. Grace wasn’t sure if Simon's own mentor or sponsors would be there; from the way Simon put it, it didn’t sound like he had any sponsors at all, and he had very little to say about his mentor. The last announcement in the arena had proclaimed that Simon was now part of District Twelve, so was he now Rocky and Eva’s Tribute as well? He’d probably be Eva’s Tribute, seeing as Grace had Rocky. But that same care would also extend to Yao; he’d probably be putting together both his and Simon’s outfits and wardrobes for their public appearances. And once said publicity was done with, they’d both be on the next train home to District Twelve, who was probably in chaos trying to throw together a homecoming celebration.

District Twelve. Home. Grace would go back to Colt and Court; he’d kept his promise, after all. He’d kept his promises to everyone he told he was coming home; he’d not lied to Rocky, in the moments before the games. He hadn’t lied to Court, in the Hall of Justice. His final words to the people he cared for most hadn’t been lies, and that sent relief flooding through his system.

He wants to get out of bed. He’s filled with energy, with the thought of going home and seeing his brothers. He wants to go find Simon, and figure out if he was okay. And why shouldn’t he? He feels completely fine. But the moment he tries to work himself out of his restraint, he feels a searing cold liquid pierce his veins from one of the many tubes, and he nearly immediately loses consciousness. 

The same thing happens for an indeterminate amount of time. Waking up, looking around the room, and being knocked out again once he tries working himself out of the band. It feels like an odd sort of limbo state, where no time yet all the time passes between waking and being knocked out again. Some wakings he feels so full of energy he could burst right out of the bed, and others he’s too tired to even open his eyes. Very few things actually register; on occasion, he’ll feel hands carding through his hair, gentle words in his ears that his mind was too fuzzy to make out, and was that a man shouting? Not in the posh, Capital accent, but in a robotic sort of voice that Grace could only ever connect to Rocky. The thought of Rocky looking out for him washes comfort over Grace’s body; it felt nice, having someone like Rocky looking out for him.

After what feels like forever and no time at all, Grace wakes up with nothing in his right arm. He’s able to completely sit up, with the removal of his restraint, though he has to do so slowly; his head nearly goes weightless when he tries to sit up too fast. He’s still naked and alone, but two things were different; for there was an outfit, laying on the end of the bed. The sight of it makes Grace flinch; it was the same outfit from the games, with the angel pin, Simon’s original jacket and everything. The only true difference was that it had been meticulously cleaned. The second thing different was that there was a noticeable door, at the end of the room, most likely so Grace knew what to do after he got clothes on. Clearly, the Capital wanted Grace to leave said room.

He changed at a record pace, making sure to tie his boots and zip up both jackets, tugging the hood tight over his head. It’s finally whenever he makes sure that he’s fully set that he turns to the door, only hesitating a moment before pushing it open.

He steps out into a large, deserted hall. There were no doors anywhere, save for his own door at the very end; though it looked like at the end of the hall, there was a break in the wall to the left, most likely opening into another room. 

“Simon?” Grace calls out. He hears his own name in response, but the voice is not at all Simon’s; no, Grace would recognize Rocky’s voice anywhere. And, sure enough, emerging from the break in the wall, was Rocky.

Grace takes off sprinting without hesitation, the brightest grin stretching across his face. He knew logically that he should show some restraint, with himself being recorded and all, but he couldn’t care less. He all but jumps into Rocky’s stretched out arms, laughing as Rocky holds him tight, spinning in place with him while laughing in tandem.

“You did it, Grace!” Rocky sounds near ecstatic. He stops spinning, but he holds Grace close, not daring to let go of him. “Oh, I knew you could do it, Kiddo! Statement!”

“Good job,” another voice says, somewhere to Grace’s left. Grace turns his head, his grin only widening whenever he sees Eva and Yao both standing side by side, watching the scene unfold. Yao looked like Christmas came early, and Eva had this small, pleased expression on her face as she watched him. It had been her, to say good job; and she sounded like she meant it.

Grace felt like he was about to cry, he was so happy. “I did it! I—I sur—” Grace paused, looking up at Rocky. “Where’s Simon?”

“I knew you would ask that,” Rocky hums, his bright grin changing to a cheeky smile. “He is okay, the Capital wished for you two to reunite on live television, at the Crowning Ceremony.”

Grace feels himself relax. “Oh, thank gosh.”

“Only you would manage to make someone like Simon Fischer your Boyfriend,” Eva snorts, her hands coming to cross over her chest. “He was switched to be mine and Rocky’s Tribute whenever you two were fighting, before you both tried to…”

“Never do something like that again, Grace, statement.” Rocky grumbles. “In fact, never do half the stuff you did in the arena again. You gave me fifteen consecutive heart attacks. See all this grey hair? You caused that.”

“Maybe you’re going grey because you’re old,” Grace snarks, laughing whenever Rocky bats his hand at him. 

Rocky sits Grace back down, giving him another squeeze before pulling away. “You got to go with Yao now, you have got to go get ready for the Crowning Ceremony. We will talk more soon, deal?”

“Deal,” Grace grins.

Grace is relieved to finally be alone with Yao, with his arm swung protectively over Grace’s shoulders as he leads Grace away from all the cameras. The journey to Yao’s salon—a full salon, now that he has not one but two Victors to get ready—was relatively fast, with the two of them taking an elevator up somewhere that Grace has no clue what to do with. Once the elevator door pings open, several stylists that have been hired under Yao flock to him; they’re talking so ecstatically that Grace could hardly make out what they were saying. Yao does take a moment to introduce each of them, though Grace only really remembers the main triage that he was told were directly helping Yao, that being Octavia, Veina, and Cordea. 

Thankfully, none of them do a double take or stare after they order him to strip, once they actually begin to get him ready. Despite how utterly unnecessary it is for them to help him bathe, they do so anyway, telling him what they were doing and giving him full permission to stop them if he was ever at all uncomfortable with the treatment. Overall, they treat him much better than the two who’d first given Grace treatment upon arriving at the Capital, which Grace was more than grateful for. Besides, the lot of them chat so continuously that it was nearly impossible for him to focus on feeling uncomfortable.

After the bath, the lot of them get to work on his hair, nails, and makeup. They don’t put any product in his hair, only brushing it back and straying it with some water to try and help keep it under control. His nails are painted a soft, baby blue color, and the makeup they put on him is simple enough, considering it was the Capital’s work; after using a soft-feeling brush to blend in concealer, they throw on some chapstick and lipgloss, and curl his lashes. They dab some soft blue eyeshadow on the corners of his eyes, but otherwise that’s all they do for makeup. Grace makes sure to thank them profusely for their work, which all of them seem to eat up, calling him a ‘doll’ and an ‘absolute sweetheart’. Then they leave, saying how they’re going to be giving the same treatment to Simon before the ceremony.

The outfit Yao gives Grace is an unassuming thing, all things considered. His top is a light blue crop top with flowing fabric over the top of it, almost like a miniature blanket hanging down; it gives the illusion of him having sleeves, and all but covers the actual top itself, save for the bottom half. There was a sliver of skin showing—there would be more, Grace was sure, if he didn’t look like a skeleton—then there was a set of pure white pants with that brushed against the floor once he tugged them on. A golden belt was tightened around the pants, keeping it in place, and Yao had Grace slip into a set of white sandals before he asked something horrifying.

“Grace,” Yao murmured, “May I pierce your ears?”

Grace nearly choked.

He still let Yao pierce his ears, regardless of how terrified he was at the thought. The earrings chosen for him was a cute, dainty looking set of gold stars that Grace immediately fell in love with. A few more items of jewelry were clipped onto him; a golden necklace that had a star charm dangling from the end, a set of golden bracelets on his right arm, anklets that dangled down just barely to be able to be seen. The angel pin from Grace’s jacket finally comes into play, clipping right over Grace’s heart. Afterwards, Yao fixed up Grace’s makeup to better suit his vision, patting golden highlighter on his cheekbones and sticking a little star sticker underneath both of his eyes.

In the mirror, Grace finds himself looking, very simply, like a boy. Can’t be older than thirteen, looking very innocent and kind. It was a staggering view, especially considering that Grace just got back from the Hunger Games in an incredibly rough state. That half-dead boy from the arena looks nothing like Grace now, with him looking the very definition of softness. The only thing throwing him off was his scar—why hadn’t Yao tried to cover it or hide it?

“I look incredible,” Grace murmurs, looking up at Yao. “You did spectacularly.”

“Thank you,” Yao smiles. He comes to stand behind grace, minutely shifting with Grace’s hair as they both look in the mirror. “I dare say that you are one of my best models, you could look spectacular in anything I put you in.”

“I’d wear anything you’d want me to,” Grace hums. He gestures to his left arm. “I thought you were gonna try to cover my arm up, though. Not that I want you too! But, er, I look soft in this outfit? The scar kind of throws that off.”

“Your scars don’t change a thing for me,” Yao hums. He brushes his thumb across Grace’s left cheek, feeling the rough, scarred skin. “Originally, the Capital wanted to do away with all your scars and give you a more feminine appearance; Rocky threw a big fit over them wanting to do that, though. Hell, he even went to the media, telling everyone under the sun what the Capital wanted to do with you. Everyone pitched a fit—the Capital’s residents really like you. Normally I wouldn’t go through the trouble of putting so much makeup on you and trying to soften you up, but the Capital still insisted you look at least somewhat feminine. I’m terribly sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Grace shrugged, “I don’t mind it, I think I look good either way. Sorry you have to go through all the trouble, though.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Yao shook his head. “I love dressing you no matter how I’m supposed to do it, I would just like a bit more creative freedom, is all.”

After Yao finishes with the final touches, Yao leads Grace away and back to the elevator, his arm back over Grace’s shoulders as they go down. It was customary for the Victor to rise from underneath the stage, along with the prep team and mentor. Both Rocky and Eva would be considered the mentors, meaning they would both come up at the same time, after the prep team and Yao. Then it would be the Victors—Grace and Simon.

Yao leads him to under the stage, a poorly lit area that smells of fresh paint, and situates Grace on the plate that would rise upwards. It’s then that he finally peels off to both get changed into his own outfit and help Simon with his, which leaves Grace completely alone. He can hear the crowd beginning to form outside, though they’re so loud that after about twenty minutes, Grace can’t hear much of anything outside of them. That’s why, whenever Rocky places his hand on Grace’s shoulder, Grace springs away and instinctively reaches back for an arrow that isn’t there.

Rocky takes this in good nature, laughing whenever Grace began to apologise profusely. He was dressed in a white suit, with golden star cufflinks and chains hanging off his glasses. “No worries, I should know better than to sneak up on you. Here, do a spin—let me get a good look at you, yes? Request.”

Grace does as told, holding out his arms and doing a little spin for Rocky to see all angles of his outfit. Rocky does a little applause, smiling as he looks grace over, before his gaze shifts to the area around them. Grace sees an unidentifiable expression cross Rocky’s face before it disappears, though it makes anxiety settle in Grace’s chest regardless.

Before Grace gets to ask what’s wrong, however, Rocky holds open his arms. “Hug for luck?”

As if Rocky had to ask. Grace easily steps into Rocky’s embrace, smiling as Rocky picks him up fully to embrace him, squeezing him tight.

It’s whenever Grace goes to pull away that he freezes. Rocky has him trapped in his embrace, not allowing him to move at all. Rocky’s face was pressed into his hair, but his voicebox was right next to his ear.

“Listen very carefully, Grace,” Rocky murmurs, very fast and very quietly in his ear. “You are in trouble, statement. The Capital is furious about how the games ended, with how you showed them up in the arena. The one thing they cannot stand is being laughed at, and currently they feel like the biggest joke in all of Eden. People have been making jokes at their expense, and they cannot stand it.”

Dread courses through Grace. He hugs Rocky just a bit tighter, Rocky doing the same in response. Rocky, however, doesn’t give Grace the chance to respond.

“Do exactly as I say,” Rocky murmurs, “You will go up on that stage, and have the most heartfelt reunion with Simon—I do not doubt that that will be fake. But you and I both know that the berries were a plan of yours to get you both out of the arena, and the Capital knows this too—you need to act and say how you were so in love with that boy that you could not physically live without Simon. Eva is going over the same thing with Simon as I am with you currently—do not talk about this topic directly with him, there are cameras everywhere. Wait until the train home. Nod if you understand.”

Grace nods slowly, and Rocky releases him, smiling down at Grace as he fixes Grace’s hair. “You’ve got this, kiddo. I’d better take my place, the show is starting soon—enjoy tonight, it’s all yours.” With that, Rocky presses a kiss to Grace’s hairline, and walks away.

Grace tugs at his top, willing for it to be longer to try and cover how badly he was shaking. The musty air surrounding him threatened to choke him right there; Grace thought he was safe. That once he got out of the arena, he’d be perfectly fine to live his life in peace. He’d never need to worry about another Reaping, he’d never need to contemplate the many ways he could die in the arena. But if Rocky was truthful in what he said—and he had no reason to lie—then Grace was in an infinite amount more trouble. He’d never been in a more dangerous place.

In the arena, the only truly bad thing that could happen was his own death. Woop-de-doo, sucks to suck. Sure, it was a terrifying experience, being hunted down like his life meant little more than prey, but he’d gotten used to it. He could handle it, at this point—he was so much stronger now than what he was at the beginning of the games, where he thought he’d cry from just getting up to the podium. 

But out here, Colt and Court were in danger. If Grace did or said one wrong thing, they could be punished. All of District Twelve could be punished. Simon could be punished. Grace didn’t think he could handle something like that. It was no secret that Victors that didn’t comply with the Capital got punished harshly, and now, Grace was one of those Victors.

Stepping out of the arena didn’t put an end to the nightmare—the most dangerous part of the Hunger Games was about to begin.

The anthem booms in Grace’s ears, which was quickly followed by the voice of Tom Ryder greeting the audience. The audience was clearly excited for him, with how loudly they started screaming and cheering. Ryder drones on and on for several minutes about the games, giving a general overview about both Grace and Simon—both very basic things, about how ‘kind’ Grace was and how ‘beastly’ Simon was, Grace wasn’t paying all that much attention. He didn’t much like how Simon was described but he pushed that thought off now—he had to focus.

The audience gives applause once the prep team is introduced, growing in volume whenever Yao is introduced after them. Yao deserved all of the applause, in Grace’s mind; he’d been District Twelve’s stylist for several years, he had to wait a long time for this moment. The audience then completely deafens Grace with how loudly they scream; Rocky and Eva must’ve been introduced, then. The loud, rambunctious cheers and stomping must go on for forever, but it is probably about five minutes. Not that that was at all surprising—they’d technically done a first. Their Tribute was the direct reason that they themselves and another got to go home. He vaguely wonders how Rocky and Eva are both faring with the sudden danger, how Simon was handling it all—but he didn’t have much time to think, because suddenly the platform was being raised, and he was being directed up to the stage.

Grace is nearly immediately blinded by the lights on stage, wincing at the brightness, but his mind is quickly torn away from that. Because there, not five feet away, was Simon.

Simon looked healthy—or at least, healthier than he did in the arena. He was wearing a white, suit-like blazer that was cropped at the waist, with long sleeves and pointed shoulders. There was nothing underneath said blazer, revealing a sliver of his chest that Grace had to physically tear his eyes away from. His black pants were similar to Grace’s in how they were loose and flowy, but instead of a belt, it was a corset-like high waist that ended just below the blazer. He wasn’t wearing sandals like Grace was, either, instead having white, pointed dress shoes that clicked on the ground. He himself was outfitted with golden jewlery—bracelets and necklaces, mostly. His ears hadn’t been pierced like Grace’s had, and he’d not been slathered with lots of makeup, either; though Grace knew that he was wearing makeup on the fact that Simon’s skin was far too sleek and clean than what it was usually. His hair had been slicked back into a ponytail, with a curly lock falling over his forehead, and the scratchy gruff Simon had in the games had been shaved away.

But that wasn’t what took Grace’s breath away. No, it was the prosthetic arm he now had. It looked like a direct replica of his other arm, with the obvious additions of it being made of…was that xenonite? It looked very fancy regardless, and it looked to work just as a normal arm would. To be fair, Grace couldn’t really tell with how his arm was covered in a sleeve, but he didn’t care at all. He had his arm back.

Instantly, Grace shot forward, all but diving into Simon's arms. Simon staggers back momentarily before catching himself, laughing as he holds Grace tightly and spins him around, eyes not daring to leave each others’ own. There was obvious delight in both of their eyes, amazement at seeing each other so healthy and put together, but there’s also recognition in both of their gazes. By now, they know each other so thoroughly that all the conversation needed is in their locked eyes.

‘We’re in danger.’

‘We have to act as though nothing is, or ever was wrong.’

‘We have to put on a show.’

The two cling to each other as the crowd goes berserk. Even then, they don’t tear their eyes from one anothers’. Grace had never held onto someone so tightly as he was with Simon now, and Simon hadn’t ever looked so overjoyed as he did right then. After a silent question and a subtle nod, Simon’s mouth finds Grace’s own, and the crowd screams. Grace couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, and he could tell Simon was as well. Those smiles don’t disappear once Rocky gives a good-natured slap on Simon’s back, directing them both to go ahead and sit down in the Victor's chair.

Normally, the Victor’s chair was a single, ornate chair that the Victor sat in to watch the highlights and overview of the games. But seeing as there were two Victors, this time around, a little miniature couch was provided. A loveseat, Court would call it. It was plush and velvety red, with two white throw pillows on either side. Opposite the couch was a white, plush looking chair that Tom Ryder himself was sitting in, a glass of wine held delicately in one hand as he gazed fondly at the couple. Between the couch and chair was a glass coffee table, with an arrangement of pink and red roses—as the couple goes to sit down, Simon pauses at the coffee table, carefully grabbing one of the pink roses before he tucks it behind Grace’s ear. The crowd goes berserk. 

Grace can’t fight off the blush as he and Simon both sit down, Simon’s left arm coming to carefully rest around Grace’s shoulders. The two are sitting so closely together that they might as well be on top of each other, but still, Grace wants to be closer. He kicks off his sandals and kicks his feet up to the side, resting his head on Simon's shoulder. The crowd ‘awe’s at them, which is only heightened whenever Simon presses a kiss to Grace’s temple.

After a few jokes by Ryder that Simon and Grace both politely fake-laugh at, the lights dim, and both Grace and Simon are made to turn to be able to watch the screen. This would last exactly three hours, and it was a required viewing by all of Eden; the screen would show the highlights of the Hunger Games, as well as the Victor’s reactions in a bottom corner. It’s only then that Grace realizes that hey, he might not be able to do this. How had any other Victor managed to do this? He can’t watch everyone die, he already did enough of that the first time. His head begins to ache, and his arm reaches over, hands tangling in Simon’s own. Some Victors are very triumphant in their win, laughing and beating their chests, pumping their fists in the air. Most, however, seemed sort of stunned. A few clearly disassociate for the duration of it, which Grace was actively trying to will himself into doing yet failing miserably. The only thing keeping Grace from breaking down was Simon’s arm slung over his shoulder, and the gentle reassurances he was whispering in Grace’s ear.

“It’s gonna be okay, Angel,” Simon murmured. It was the first real words either of them had said to the other since the games. “It’s just three hours, then we’re done.”

Grace squeezes Simon’s hand in thanks, and with that, the games begin to play.

Condensing several weeks into just three hours is no easy feat to perform; Grace didn’t know how the process worked, and for that he was thankful. The makers of the video had to choose exactly what story to show, what moments to include, what’s important versus what wasn’t. This time around, they choose a love story—Grace knew that he and Simon won, but even then, a disproportionate amount of time was spent on him and Simon from the beginning. The first scene was Grace’s Reaping, with him volunteering as tribute—Grace flinched at the sound of Colt’s desperate sobs, begging for Ryland to stay. Simon holds onto him all the tighter, even as his own Reaping plays out—Simon grumbles under his breath about the ‘Convict’ title.

The first half-hour focuses on the pre-game events. The rest of the Reapings, the Chariot ride—Simon had been dressed in an all gold, boxy toga that looked absolutely horrible on him, but Grace didn’t say as much—as well as their training scores and their interviews. An awful, upbeat sort of soundtrack played in the background, and it made Grace want to rip his ears off; most of the people on screen were dead, there was nothing cheerful about that.

Once they get to the games themselves, they show detailed footage of the initial bloodbath, showing in order of who died first between last. Twelve had died, during the initial bloodbath, with Olesya being the ninth; seeing her face, rewatching her death made Grace feel all sorts of sick all over again, and he couldn’t fight the tears that sprung to his eyes. After that, though, the shots alternate between scenes of him and Simon and then scenes of the other tributes dying. A lot of the initial footage covered Simon; he’d apparently talked to the other Careers about Grace. Not like it helped Grace any, but it made him blush hearing how Simon had thought about him. It also showed how he cared for Grace, even when they weren’t allied, with him carefully picking Grace up after the tracker jacker incident and carefully hiding him away. Grace seems heartless in comparison, with the scenes showing him venturing off alone, doing his own thing. That is, until he and Martin team up.

They play Martin’s death in full; how Grace arrived just a second too late, killing District Ten’s boy on instinct just as the spear entered Martin’s body. They kept the part of him singing to Martin, too; every last note of it, as he held Martin in his arms. Interestingly enough, they cut the part where Grace wreathed Martin in flowers; why, Grace didn’t care enough to question. A part of him felt like he was withering up and dying, having to watch Martin die all over again—he couldn’t help the broken sob he gave before he managed to muffle himself, hiding his face in Simon’s chest.

Things pick up for Grace once he finally tracks down Simon. He reminds himself slightly of a beast, prowling around on the screen. He remembered seeing every single point of how Grace tracked Simon down, every little mark that indicated Simon’s path, and while they were still on the screen, they weren't all that visible. If you didn’t know what to look for, it looked like Grace essentially made a beeline to where Simon was.

The screen shows Grace frantically trying to help Simon, with him cutting off Simon’s arm in full and doing the shoddiest first aid anyone would ever see, then it shows a timelapse of how he’d stayed up for several days ensuring that Simon was safe. If Grace looked heartless before, he was certainly making up for it right then. The timelapse continues somewhat, taking breaks in between to show cute moments between the two of them, cuddled up in the cave. It was almost odd watching it—Grace remembered it all happening, he knew exactly what he was thinking in those moments, but it was so odd to see what the audience did.

Then came the moment with the berries, after Filch’s death was played in full. Grace hears the audience go hush as Grace and Simon argue on-screen, finally ending in Grace lurching forward, smashing both of their lips together. It was that scene that ended the video, and Grace was relatively grateful—it did well, in terms of looking lovesick.

The anthem begins playing once again, and both Grace and Simon rise, along with mostly everyone else. Grace knew exactly what to do, based on watching the same thing occur several times over in previous games—he and Simon are led to stand in the front and center of the stage as Tom hurriedly leaves, the lighting changing to gold. 

Grace feels more than sees The Father enter the stage, a little girl following. The little girl was holding a cushion, with only a single crown on it—Grace could hear the crowd’s confusion. It’s only whenever the Father steps in front of the two Victors and grabs the crown that the questions are answered; with a simple turn of his hands, the crown splits into two halves, one half looking more dainty than the other. To nobody's surprise, The Father crowns Simon first with the non-dainty crown with a smile. Then Grace was next—The Father was still smiling, but his eyes felt like a snake, and his touch burned where The Father’s finger slowly stroked Grace’s cheek before pulling away.

Plenty of waving and bowing follows. Grace swears his arm was about to fall off before the audience was finally bid goodnight, with a reminder to tune in for tomorrow—that would be when the final interview would take place, broadcasted to the entirety of Eden. It, like the Crowning Ceremony, was not optional to watch.

After the curtains finally close, both Grace and Simon are whisked away to the President’s Mansion, where the Victory Banquet was taking place. Neither of them have much time to eat any actual food, though; quickly, the two of them are swarmed by Capital Officials and particularly generous Sponsors. They elbow each other out of the way, talking over one another as they try to get pictures with both him and Simon. Simon takes it like a champ, at least, smiling and waving and doing exactly as he should. Grace himself feels disgusting; they were all getting so…touchy with him, and not with Simon. Their hands on his skin made him feel dirty, as though he needed a shower immediately—though every time Simon notices Grace getting too overwhelmed, he carefully eases Grace away to somewhere else, where Grace was free to hide behind Simon and let him take the lead. On occasion, Grace would catch a glimpse of Rocky or Eva, which was reassuring. Other times he’d see The Father, which made him want to hide.

The sun was peaking over the horizon once the two finally made it back to the Training Center, where they’d be spending the night before the new day. Simon goes with Grace to the  Twelfth floor, not daring to let go of him as Rocky leads the two of them to their bedroom for the night. Rocky was saying something, probably something important, but Grace was too tired to really be paying attention—thankfully Rocky noticed this, and was relatively gentle as he herded the two to their bedroom. A shared bedroom, thankfully; Grace didn’t think he could handle being alone.

And just like that, the two were alone. There were two sets of fancy, satin-feeling pajamas, both black but shiny in the light, that the two slipped on with ease without much trouble. The both of them took time to wash their faces in the connecting bathroom, washing away all the makeup and product that they’d both been covered in. Grace takes a moment to help Simon undo his hair, washing all the product out over the sink, and in turn Simon picks him up bridal-style and carries Grace away to their bed—which was a relief in itself, because his feet were killing him. Hardly any words were said beyond a small ‘thanks’ or a pleased hum—what was there to say? Besides, Grace was so deadbeat tired that he didn't think he could handle any serious conversations.

They sleep like they did in the arena; Grace on Simon’s chest, his face pressed in Simon's neck and their legs tangled together. Only this time, the both of them slept instead of only one, and Simon held onto Grace with two hands instead of one. His left arm stayed braced on the small of Grace’s back while his right got tangled in Grace’s hair, stroking slowly and eventually stopping as his breath evened out.

They got maybe three hours of sleep before Rocky was carefully shaking them awake. Good thing it was Rocky, too—the moment Simon felt someone in the room that wasn’t Grace, he had a hand locked around Rocky’s collar, glowering darkly until he woke up more and realized who, exactly, he’d just grabbed. Rocky, once again, took it in stride, because he is the best Mentor Grace could ever ask for.

The two of them together have maybe fine minutes to shovel in plain, dry toast before the prep team descends on both of them. They don’t separate the two, thankfully—they must’ve seen how tightly their hands were woven, and decided against even trying. Both of them were still tired, and Grace could see in the mirror how exhausted both he and Simon looked; he did the simple task of telling the prep team, “They absolutely loved you last night!” and from then on, it was pretty much unnecessary to talk. Simon looked grateful, at least; together the two of them tried to rest as much as they could, while they were getting ready. The experience is slightly heightened whenever a warm cup of coffee is pressed into his hands, and he nearly downs half of it on the spot.

By the time the makeup is done, Grace has finished his coffee and is feeling slightly more alive. His makeup was done in soft gold, this time around; he gave the illusion of a soft, golden glow, with golden highlighter, soft pink lip gloss and shimmering eyeshadow. His nails were redone to be golden as well, while Simons—who’s nails had not been originally done—were painted a deep, almost blood red color, looking black whenever light didn’t hit it. His own makeup was done startlingly darker. He had black eyeliner that blended into his smokey eyes, of which were black on his eyelids but faded out to a similar red as to what was on his nails. Afterwards, they gave him eyeliner wings that reminded Grace of pure, liquified gold. They also put a startlingly dark red lipstick on him as well, that Simon looked very displeased by but said nothing of. The two looked like total opposites; Grace, with his soft, doll-like look and Simon with his darker, more moodier style.

This did not change whenever Yao came to give them their outfits, helping them both in tandem in putting the outfits on. Grace’s was as dainty and elegant as he’d expected; he kind of hated to admit it, but he was sort of just wearing a dress with pants. The ‘top’ was a soft, pastel yellow, and was off the shoulders, with a crossed-over neckline that acted as sleeves. It had a fitted bodice and waist, which really gave point to how skinny Grace had become, and the flowy skirt fell to be just above his knees. He was wearing a loose set of white pants with the outfit, that faded down to gold whenever it reached the cuffs, of which were bunched up on the floor. A pair of sandals were slipped onto his feet, said pair having inch-high heels that boosted him up a bit. The golden jewelry came next, with dangling earrings and so many bracelets on his right arm Grace swore they added ten pounds. A golden rose got clipped right where his waist met the skirt, and a golden headband was pushed onto Grace’s head, yet his fluffy bangs were not made to move out of place. The outfit was finally complete once Yao clipped his angel pin right over his heart once more, allowing Grace to finally relax in his chair as Yao turned to focus on Simon.

Simon himself was put in much darker, moodier colors. He was made to wear a fitted black waistcoat, of which had red, floral embroidery covering the entire thing, and two golden buttons keeping it together. Underneath that was a pure black button up, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar folded neatly. A red bowtie was tied around his neck afterwards, of which Simon grumbled about but otherwise didn’t fight. The pants were pretty much the exact same as Grace’s own, save for the fact that they were black and red instead of white and gold. A pair of dress shoes were slipped onto his feet, said shoes having golden laces and a much higher heel than Grace’s own, putting him several inches above Grace. His hair wasn’t slicked back like the night before, thankfully. Instead Yao swooped it to the left, before pinning all the extra hair on his left side back with a golden clip. 

Simon looked good in the outfit, sure—in fact, Grace could barely look away. But it didn’t feel like it fit Simon’s personality at all—neither outfit really fit their wearers, despite them both looking impeccable in them. 

Yao was apologising before either of them could mention this. “I designed the outfits, yes, but the way they are currently are overarchingly not my choice. If I had my way, then Simon, you would be in more earthy colors, and Grace, you would be wearing something a lot less…you know. The Capital wants to paint you both in certain lighting, to make you appear certain ways to the public. Once this interview is over, I’ll have full reign to design and put you both in whatever I please, but for the moment I cannot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon murmured. He still looked exhausted, but he was clearly fighting it for the moment. “It’s just this last thing, yeah? Thank you for your work.”

“Yeah, Yao, thank you,” Grace parrots, giving Yao a reassuring smile. “You did incredibly as always.”

Yao still looks upset, but that’s all they really get to say before one of the members of the prep team stops by, telling them all that they were about to be rolling. 

The interview, apparently, was going to be taking place just down the hall in the sitting room. Everything had been marginally moved around, however; the same loveseat from the night before had been brought in, surrounded by the same pink and red flowers that had been on the coffee table the night before. The same chair that Tom Ryder had was brought in as well, of which the man was sitting on, sipping at a golden-colored liquid from yet another wine glass. There were a few cameras set up to record the event, and Rocky, Eva and Yao sat behind the cameras on the couch that had originally been there, giving them both bright waves and reassuring looks whenever they saw Grace and Simon.

Tom Ryder, however, stands from his seat and gives Grace a warm hug that startles nearly everyone around. Grace awkwardly pats Ryder's back as he pulls away, fighting off the nausea that curdled in his stomach. He gives Simon the same treatment, with a much shorter, slightly less warm hug that leaves Simon looking equally as put off as Grace was.

“Congradulations on your win, you two,” Tom Ryder smiles brightly at the both of them. “Come come, sit down. Don’t be shy, curl up close to each other—it looked very sweet last night.”

Grace and Simon comply easily enough, sitting down in the loveseat and resuming pretty much the same position as they had been in last night—the only true difference was that Grace’s legs were swung over Simon’s lap, with Simon’s right hand idly rubbing one of his knees while the other remained on Grace’s back. They did, in fact, curl up close—Grace tucked himself into Simon’s side, and Simon leaned his head on Grace’s own, smiling down at him.

Someone counted down from ten, and just like that, they were broadcasting to the entire country. The flurry of words pretty much immediately begin—though it seemed like Tom Ryder and Simon had something going for them, as they both share light-hearted banter and teasing remarks that hold no true weight. Grace knows just from hearing the way he talks that every once of it is fake, but as long as Grace himself didn’t have to talk, it would be fine. Sure, he had to answer on some occasions, but Simon was usually quick to divert the attention back to himself. Grace was increasingly more grateful for Simon with every passing moment.

Sadly, after about seven or so minutes of light hearted words and easy jokes, Ryder starts asking questions that demand fuller answers. “Say, Simon, are you aware that the Capital has been calling you ‘The Butcher’?”

Simon pauses. He and Grace share a look before Simon answers. “Er, no. Why would I be called that?”

“Because of the beginning of the games,” Ryder replied easily, sitting back in his chair. “Out of the twelve people who died initially in the bloodbath, you killed half of them. Then afterwards, as you were hunting with your group, every kill you performed was more brutal than the last—I dare say you killed the most people in the arena!”

Simon immediately looked uncomfortable. Grace presses all the more closer to him, and after Simon was quiet for a beat too long, Grace answers for him. “Oh, you know how it goes. In the arena, it’s kill or be killed—I’m sure that if he’d left them all alive, they’d either be killed by someone else or return to kill him.”

Simon shoots him a thankful look while Ryder nods, processing the information. “Ah, you pose a good point there! Say, the people have given you a nickname too—The ‘Fallen Angel’, does that title resonate with you?”

Grace blinks. “The ‘Fallen Angel’? That’s…Somewhat creative, I guess I was already being called the ‘Angel on Fire’ before the games.”

“You’re just so angelic, we can hardly help ourselves in keeping the title,” Ryder sighs whimsically, smiling to himself as his eyes trail over Grace. “You know, you are very desirable throughout the Capital, currently.”

From the corner of his eye, Grace sees Rocky and Eva both freeze. His own chest tightens uncomfortably—what could Ryder possibly mean by that? By Rocky’s and Eva’s reactions, he could tell this wasn’t a good thing.

“Well, I’m flattered that they think that,” Grace laughs uncomfortably, looking anywhere but Ryder. His hand comes up to entwine in Simon's right hand, which immediately is holding him in a death grip—clearly, Simon was just as put off by the statement as Grace was. “But I’m afraid I’m a taken man. I’m all Simons, nothing’s tearing me from him.”

What Grace really wanted to say was a string of curses at the cameras, telling everyone watching to shove off and keep their hands to themselves. Was that why he kept being touched, the night before? Was that why Ryder hugged him first, and for much longer than what he did with Simon? He felt disgusting all over again—was anything in his position currently at all suggestive? Was he currently being stared at by people that didn’t see him beyond his body? He wanted to curl up and hide in Simon’s arms forever, this feeling was horrible.

Thankfully, Simon jumped in so Grace didn’t have to. “Yes, he’s my Angel, I’m sorry to say that everyone else is just going to have to keep their hands away.”

“Oh, he is your angel, isn’t he?” Ryder’s voice has gained a teasing tilt. “Say, Simon, when did you first feel something towards Grace?”

This, thankfully, was a topic that was easy to discuss. A far more natural smile rested on Simon’s face at the question. “Ryder, do you believe in love at first sight?”

Ryder blinked. “Uh, I suppose so?”

“Good,” Simon nodded, “Because that was exactly what happened. You see, I was struggling, during training—there were these monkey bars that I couldn’t for the life of me get across. Grace here comes walking up to me, with all the confidence in the world, and tells me to do something else—not something I was good at, but something that I was decent at, so that I’d stop being stared at the Careers like I was fresh meat. And it worked; that’s how I initially teamed up with the rest of the Careers.”

“So Grace’s advice helped you a marginal amount in the games,” Ryder nodded, smiling at the thought. “Why, that was so very sweet of him! Say, Grace, what were you thinking whenever you saw Simon here struggling?”

“This is going to sound awful, but I didn’t think much of him,” Grace shrugged with a wince. “I originally helped him because he reminded me a lot of my twin brother, Colt—Colt would’ve been doing the exact same thing Simon was doing, in struggling with something and not giving up. I found it admirable, but that was not the play to go for right then, and I didn’t want Simon to end up dead right off the bat from something I could’ve prevented.”

“Ah, I see,” Ryder nods, “Say, when did you fall for Simon?”

“Hmm…” Grace thinks for a moment. “...I wouldn’t put an exact moment to it, but I initially started caring for him whenever I found out it was him, who hid me away after I attacked them. After the tracker jackers, I mean. Then I found him hurt, and started taking care of him…I guess a more proper answer would be whenever I heard about the feast, and was suddenly terrified by the idea of me not going, on the premise that Simon was going to die if I didn’t go. Up until that point, I hadn’t really been thinking about how I felt—in fact, I was trying to stay disconnected, because I thought he was definitely going to die.”

Pretty much all complete bullcrap, but Ryder seemed to eat it up. “Ah, I see! What about the feast changed this, do you think?”

“It changed everything,” Grace replied, “Because right then, for the first time…I knew that there was a chance I could keep him.”

He hoped it came off as heartfelt and cheesy as it sounded in his mind—he knew his brothers would never let him live this interview, in particular, down. His brothers knew Grace well enough to know when he was making stuff up on the fly, but even still, they would be repeating Grace’s words back to him for the rest of time, he was sure.

Clearly, though, Grace has said the right thing, because the people around him coo and awe at his words. Ryder pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbing at his eyes with how moved he apparently was. Simon presses his forehead into Grace’s hair with a soft sound.

“Now that you have me, what’ll you do with me?” Simon asks.

Grace already knew the answer. “Put you somewhere where you’ll never, ever get hurt again.”

The two of them kissing once more causes the people in the room to sigh whimsically, apparently so utterly choked up by their love that they physically couldn’t help themselves. Naturally, however, Grace has given Ryder a perfect segue into all the ways they did get hurt, from burns, to stings, to bruises and cuts. Ryder seems particularly keen on Grace’s injuries in the arena; weirdly so. He all but glazes over how Simon literally lost his arm in favor of worriedly fawning over Grace’s burn. Grace eventually has to stick his left arm out for both Ryder and the rest of the world to see, after his annoyance builds up enough. It was barely enough to calm Ryder, for the moment, but Grace could help but think about how odd Ryder had been towards him the entire interview as they continued on.

It’s after several more minutes of talking that finally, the berries get brought up. “Say, Grace, what was going through your mind whenever you pulled out those berries? What did you call them, again?”

“They’re called nightlock,” Grace answered smoothly. If he’d been stuttering over his answers before, then this answer was silky smooth—he was prepared for this question, had been since he first woke up in the Capital. “Even one will kill you in less than a minute. I was thinking that exact thing as I pulled them out—I didn’t want Simon to die, but there was no way we were ever going to allow the other to die for us. I just…I couldn’t bear the thought of being without him.”

Ryder hums. “Simon? Anything to add?”

“No,” Simon shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to Grace’s cheek. Grace can feel where the red stain is left behind, and people make ‘awe’-ing sounds again. “He’s summed it up perfectly for the both of us, I believe.”

The interview was wrapped up relatively quickly, after that, with both Grace and Simon waving to the camera as Ryder signed off. Everyone around them was laughing, crying, and hugging each other, though Grace couldn’t even begin to understand why—the two of them stayed planted in the loveseat as Rocky, Eva and Yao finally weaved themselves over to the couple, after the focus wasn’t directly on them.

“How’d we do?” Grace asks. He couldn’t hide the anxiety in his voice if he tried.

Rocky smiled reassuringly, reaching over to ruffle Grace’s hair. “You both did phenomenally. You two better go on and gather whatever you have in your room—we are leaving for the train station in about an hour.” He leans in close, whispering to the both of them with a bright grin on his face. “I had two backpacks delivered to you two’s room during the interview, one for each of you. Steal as much as you want to or can.”

“Rocky!” Eva sputtered, kicking at his shins. Rocky only laughed in response as Eva turned to the couple. “You two, don’t you—”

But it was already too late. Both Grace and Simon were sprinting off, laughing as Eva called angrily out after them.

Sure enough, there were two backpacks in their room. Was it considered stealing if they took the outfits that were specifically designed for them? Grace argued not, so both the outfits from the Crowning Ceremony and their pajamas from the night before got stuffed in. Grace found their arena outfits in the closet, hanging up, which also went into their packs as well; but other than those things, it was really just small, easily replaceable items. Simon shoveled all the soap he could manage into his pack, and Grace ventured out of the room momentarily to swipe as many little trivial things he could. Did he feel guilty? Just a bit. But he told himself that it was all souvenirs for his brothers, and that they would appreciate him oh-so-much, and so the guilt was quickly written off.

They rode to the train station in this black car with tinted windows with Eva glaring darkly at them both every time she caught sight of their backpacks. Rocky just laughed, seeing all the stuff they got, and praised them both for their skills—Grace was half sure that they were allowed to take pretty much anything, seeing as people blatantly saw them both snagging things, but nobody said anything. Grace didn’t care either way, it was fun to laugh and have a good time with Simon—seeing Simon’s carefree smile made his heart flutter in a way he could now properly place.

The two of them barely got to say goodbye to Yao before they were whisked away onto the train—Grace wasn’t too worried about that, though. They’d be seeing him again in about six months, when the Victory tours began.

The train takes off easy enough, and for the first time since the Reaping, Grace feels like he can breathe. He and Simon both take turns in the bathroom, cleaning themselves up—Grace washes away all the makeup, and changes his outfit out into what was provided for him, that being—blessedly enough—a simple pair of green baggy shorts and a large black hoodie that felt like it would swallow him whole. Simon also washes away the makeup and undoes his hair, ending up in a black T-Shirt and the same pair of green shorts. After stuffing their latest outfits into their backpacks, the two of them curl up on the couch that was provided in the cabin, with Grace all but draped over Simon’s lap once more. At some point, a blanket gets thrown over the two of them, but Grace hardly notices; with how exhausted the two of them are, they both fall asleep curled into each other's arms.

They both wake up around two hours away from District Twelve, and that was only because Rocky shook them awake, murmuring to them both in a gentle voice how they needed to get up soon. The both of them still jump sky-high at being woken up, but neither of them immediately try slitting Rocky’s throat, so Grace takes that as a win.

Both of them stay laying in the same spot for another hour, until they’re both made to get up. Simon doesn’t seem to want to let go of Grace at all, which Grace is all but accommodating for, the two of them keeping iron-tight grips on one another as they get ‘ready’. Getting ready wasn’t necessarily the same as what it meant back in the Capital—this time around, the only thing the two really needed to do was shower and put on the same clothes they’d been wearing originally, which took maybe twenty minutes for the both of them combined. Afterwards, the two sat back where they’d been on the couch, now with the new addition of Rocky sitting in a chair nearby and Eva pacing along the wall of the cabin. 

This was the last part of the games, before they were truly free. The people of District Twelve would gather in front of the Justice Building, like they had for the Reaping, except everyone was going to be crowded there. Grace and Simon would step out onto the stage, expected to be grinning brightly as they waved at their district. For Grace, this would be easy—he already knew half the people in his district, and he was generally well liked. For Simon? Maybe not as much, but Grace wasn’t too worried. He loved Simon, and he was confident that the people back home would love him too.

Simon, however, was not as confident whenever Grace asked. “I don’t know how any of them are going to feel about me,” Simon winced, looking down at his lap. “Tom Ryder was right, I did kill a lot of people. Even I wouldn’t be comfortable around me. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stick with me this long, I’m terrifying.”

“As terrifying as a puppy, maybe,” Grace snorts, He entwines their hands again, leaning over to press a kiss to Simon's cheek. “They’re all going to love you, I already know it. And if they don’t, then who cares? I love you.”

“I love you too, Angel,” Simon sighs, before pausing. “Are you… okay with me calling you that? Angel? The people in the Capital have been calling you either the ‘Angel on Fire’ or the ‘Fallen Angel’.”

Grace shrugs. “You just call me ‘Angel’, so it’s fine. I like it.”

It feels like forever and no time at all before the train begins to squeal to a stop, the cabin going dark as they’re enveloped by the walls of the train station. That’s whenever Rocky stands, grabbing onto both of their backpacks for them before gesturing for them to wait at the door. The couple would be made to wait for him for a few minutes, until he got everything prepared, then he’d escort them to the Hall of Justice—he’ll be waiting outside the Hall of Justice for them, whenever they’re done waving to the crowd and pretending like they’re having the most fun in the world.

It’s finally whenever the train properly screams to a halt that Grace and Simon both get up, Simon’s arm slung around Grace’s shoulders as they make their way to the doors. After a few moments, the door hisses open, and the two are able to trot down the stairs and out into the station.

“Ryland!”

And standing there, not ten feet away from the doors, was Colt and Court.

They both looked both more alive and dead than they have in years. Shadows clung underneath both of their eyes, and had they eaten at all while Grace was gone? No, that didn’t matter, because his brothers were standing ten feet away from him.

“Colt! Court!”

—

Ryland looked both everything and nothing like his brothers, Simon found, watching the three of them cling to each other as though letting go would mean the end of the world.

Colt, no surprise, looked mostly like Ryland. There were subtle differences, Simon could already pinpoint them, but that was mostly because he’d spent the better part of the last few weeks staring at nothing but Ryland’s face. Colt’s nose was crooked, most likely from being broken and not being set quite correctly, and he looked infinitely healthier than Ryland had looked for the past while—which wasn’t saying much, considering they lived in District Twelve. The blonde mess on his head was a slightly darker shade of blonde, and his stark blue eyes were just a bit darker as well. Simon was sure he’d be able to point out what more was different if Colt’s face wasn’t buried in Ryland’s shoulder, muffling the relieved sobs that shook his body.

Court, however, looked far more intimidating. While the twins were maybe five-foot-nine, Court was easily six feet and counting, with a broad stature that could only come from the mines. His hair was a dark brown, more put together, but his eyes were the exact same as Ryland’s was. If he wanted to, Simon was sure he’d be able to body slam anyone and everyone he wanted—he would’ve been an absolute unit, in the arena. He looked far more rugged than either of the twins, though if it was on purpose, he was failing in that regard—he looked like nothing except a relieved older brother, clinging to his little brother like he’d disappear if he looked away, even for a moment.

The brothers must stay like that for infinity before finally, Colt pulls away, his hands coming to rest on Ryland’s shoulders. His eyes trail over Rylands face, as though trying to commit it to memory. 

“You look like shit.”

Simon nearly choked.

Ryland squawked, immediately kicking at his twin, who dodged with a laugh. Ryland was definitely missing on purpose, Simon knew that just by watching them, but the scene was cute regardless. “We look the same, you jerk!”

“Hell yeah, we do,” Colt grinned, tears dancing in the corners of his eyes. “I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

And just like that, they were hugging each other again, the two of them holding one another in death grips. Court hadn’t said anything, instead watching the two with this soft, fond smile that was clearly only reserved for his brothers. Simon felt slightly like he was intruding on an important moment; this was a family reunion, Simon had no place in it.

Clearly, this sentiment wasn’t shared, because after a few moments Ryland pulled away again. He didn’t dare let go of his brothers—not that anyone could expect him to—but he gestured over to where Simon was awkwardly standing.

“Colt, Court, this is Simon,” Ryland nods to Simon, his smile only brightening as he speaks. Simon already knew that Ryland would be excited to introduce him to his brothers, but he wasn’t expecting the sheer scale of that—Ryland looked possibly the happiest he ever looked, like he himself was the sun casting everyone in warmth. “He’s my Boyfriend, he kept me safe in the games. He’s the absolute best.”

“What, and I’m not?” Colt huffs indignantly, but it was clear he was trying to be playful. The twins fall into a sibling squabble while Court takes a step back, gaze trailing from his brothers to where Simon was standing.

The twins don’t notice as Court strides up to Simon, too focused on playfully arguing and hugging each other. Simon is rendered completely frozen, his eyes tracking Court’s every movement. He’d been afraid of this exact moment—Simon had been thinking about it since the realization hit him that he’d be meeting Grace’s brothers. He’d only heard good things about the two, but they’d only seen relatively bad things about him. It wasn’t like he was on his absolute best behavior in the arena, he hadn’t been focused on anything else except making it through. What was Court going to do with him? Colt, Simon would probably be able to stand his ground against, but Court looked like an absolute beast. Simon would bet money that most of the survival stuff Ryland had learned from Court.

Court stopped around a foot in front of Simon, eyes looking the boy over. Simon tried to look as relaxed as possible, but he couldn’t help the anxiety brewing in him—Court’s face remained carefully blank, taking Simon in. Was he plotting Simon’s downfall? Was he thinking of all the ways he could murder Simon, if given the chance? What if he was—

Apparently, Court wasn’t thinking of any of those things, because not a moment later warm arms enveloped Simon as a whole. Court hugged Simon to his chest, face pressed into Simon’s hair—if Simon wanted to, he could easily escape out of the grasp. But he was finding that no, he didn’t want this to end—Court’s arms were warm and comforting, and Simon couldn’t help but relax into the grasp. 

“Thank you,” Court murmured as he pulled away, looking Simon straight in the eyes. There were tears in his eyes, and a wobbly smile etched on his face. “Thank you, Simon, for protecting my brother.”

“No problem,” Simon croaked out. He sounded utterly pathetic.

Court just laughed, however. He very gently tugged on Simon's arm, leading the boy to where Colt and Ryland were still squabbling. It had delved into a little miniature fight, with kitten slaps and light foot jabs. Simon almost instinctively jumped in to fight Colt off, but the both of them were laughing, so he managed to restrain himself.

Both Court and Simon watched the scene play out in front of them, Court looking utterly fond as he watched his brothers fight and banter. Ryland, for his part, looked the most alive he’d been since Simon met him—it was clear as day how much he loved his brothers. 

Alas, good things couldn’t last forever, because eventually Rocky emerged from the train. He looked at ease as he stepped up next to Simon, watching Colt and Ryland fight for several moments before calling for their attention.

“Simon, Grace,” Rocky’s voice box crackled. “We better get going, to the Hall, Statement.”

Ryland, by some miracle, looked even happier at the sight of Rocky. He tugged at Colt’s arm, gesturing to his Mentor. “Colt, Court, this is Rocky, he’s my Mentor. He’s the best.”

“I thought Simon was the best?”

“Anyone can be the best, as long as it’s not you.”

Well, if Ryland got his survival skills from Court, then he learned and practiced his snark with Colt. The twins nearly delve back into a squabble, before Court catches their attention with nothing but a snap of his fingers. Simon was almost impressed, with how quickly both the twins’ snapped their heads to look at him.

“Ryland, Simon, you two should get going,” Court huffed, though the smile on his face showed how he wasn’t actually annoyed. “We’ll be in the crowd, cheering as loudly as possible for you both. Afterwards, Ry, stay close to the stage until me and Colt get to you.”

Ryland gave a nod. “Got it.”

“Oh, and one last thing.” Court crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah?”

“You and Simon are both grounded.”