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When Renjun’s name had been called, Chenle’s heart had stopped mid beat in his chest. His lungs collapsed as well as the plastered smile on his face. The world moved in slow motion as the petite boy dressed in his best clothes-rags, he was still from the poorer side of town, wiggled his way through the crowd and onto the platform of the stage. Over the throng of people, his eyes locked with Chenle’s, and both quietly promised to stay strong. They had to.
The daisies in the empty field surrounding the district had wilted as time went on, but the sticks of what once had been still danced in the wind. They licked the boy’s ankles, caressing his barefooted toes as he walked through the field. His eyes were closed.
When they met to say goodbye, Chenle slipped off his silver Zhong Family Crest bracelet and wrapped it around Renjun’s wrist. “Keep it.” He whispered. Renjun nodded eagerly, a small smile finding its way through his shaking features. “I love you.” Chenle whispered, pressing a kiss into his lover’s forehead. Renjun didn’t settle for this, instead wrapping his thin arms over Chenle until it was time for Chenle to go.
Sometimes, it didn’t hurt. He felt guilty when he forgot to feel the pain- the pain of seeing Renjun for the last time and the way his Zhong Family Crest bracelet felt heavy on his wrist now. The world was so big, but felt so much more empty when he couldn’t run through the fields, turn, and face his best friend.
The next time he saw Renjun was through the flat screen in his basement: the broadcast of the opening ceremony playing on mute. The district eleven chariot, led by golden horses, led its way through the Capital streets, Renjun’s makeup done so his sharp features were accentuated, he wore a golden suit and a floral headband around his head. The other boy who stood beside him had the same makeup style and dress up as Renjun, but no one could ever outshine him. When he lifted his hand to wave, his silver Zhong bracelet shimmered.
No one needed two houses: not Chenle, not anyone. The emptiness consumed him, his chest cavity barely thrumming. Sometimes he had to run as hard as he could just to feel his chest beat .
Chenle didn’t move from his home’s palace basement for the next two weeks. He watched the training scores come up on the screen, live. None stuck to him harshly, but he remembered the pound of his heart when Renjun’s sharp features popped onto the screen with the score of ‘9’. He didn’t know if it would be easier to get by if he believed Renjun had a chance or if he believed he didn’t.
The interviews came next. All 24 tributes lined up on stage in their best outfits, smiling and trying to showcase the best of their features to anyone willing to sponsor them. Though he was sure anyone with a brain would sponsor Renjun, Chenle still held his family’s credit card and phone in his hands.
When the two of them first started dating, they’d watch the Hunger Games in Chenle’s basement’s theater. Renjun had curled himself into Chenle’s meaty chest, muttering something about the ‘dumbness of the Career tributes’- all muscle no brains- and awed at the will power of that year’s victor. When the tribute from their district, a strong jawed boy from the richer side, died in a fire, Renjun had been quiet. “I talked to him once.” It was all he muttered, burying his damp face into Chenle’s neck.
Since then, Chenle swore to protect him. He swore he’d pay for the things Renjun’s older brother couldn’t afford to buy him. The only thing he couldn’t protect him from got him.
The first tribute from one- a taller, thicker boy with sharp brows and intense eyes played the fierce card. He wore a slick, all black suit and shirt, with only a silver tie spicing up the look. He hissed his sharpened teeth into the camera, flickering his eyes at the others nonchalantly as if he could have killed them instantly. “ Good luck, Xiaojun.” Lucas, the interviewer, clapped for the built boy as he returned to the tribute next to him.
The next district one was built as well, with large palms and beefy muscles sticking out through his tight black suit. He was generic, terrifying in his size, but lacking in a personality. His only distinguishable feature was his lack of being able to form a proper sentence: a result of too many head hits during training. You don’t need a brain to kill.
District two displayed two boys taller and leaner than District ones, but their dynamic was impeccable. The two were even interviewed together, giggling back and forth while completing each other's sentences. They were dressed sleekly in marble like suits, but besides for their obvious chemistry, they didn’t make a mark on Chenle. Lucas smiled and waved them off, the two returning to their seats with the rest of the tributes to continue their whispered conversation.
The threes were just as dull. Dressed flashy in super futuristic designs and glasses, the two spewed out words Chenle didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Even Lucas, known for his charm and ability to hold conversation, didn’t seem able to comprehend what the first one babbled. During the interview with the second, he steered clear of any tech talk.
Four, fives, and six passed by without much flare or charm between the six tributes they presented. The first tribute from seven was dressed in a silky green blouse and black dress pants, his black hair swept gently around his face to show off his child like features. When he walked up to speak, he more so skipped. “Hello!” He wiggled into the red seat across from Lucas.
Lucas beemed. “Hi Yangyang,” Lucas smiled at the petite boy across from him. “How are you tonight?”
Yangyang looked like he considered the question for a moment. “I’m good! I’m excited to be here and keep training,”. He bounced as he talked, smile consuming his face.
“That’s good! You got a pretty impressive score in training, an 8. Tell us about that.” Lucas leaned forward, a gleam of interest consuming his sparkly brown eyes.
Yangyang blushed, bowing his head slightly. “Back home, I work with getting rid of the animals that can hurt the trees. I guess I got good at hurting those,” He shrugged, smile returning to his face as he locked eyes with Lucas.
“Look at you go!” Lucas purred. Yangyang blushed again, sinking lower into the couch. His timer wasn’t up, quite yet, so Lucas continued. “I wish you the best of luck in the arena, and I hope your work back home helps you!”
Yangyang smiled brightly, whispering out a thank you as the timer blared overhead and he returned to his seat. Seven point five tried a similar approach to Yangyang, but being at least a few years older, he couldn’t nail the cute factor quite as much.
Eight- the district of textiles- wore matching, God awful suits composed of patches of many different fabrics of all colors. Both of the tributes were small and underfed, shaking when asked questions and their eyes both wide with wonder.
Nine and ten passed with no distinction, before Chenle let go of the breath he was holding as Renjun stepped onto the stage. His makeup was done sharp again, a small smile edged on his lips as he approached Lucas. Next to the other tributes, he was petite but confident. He wore a floral suit and a plain white button up underneath, sitting comfortably on the edge of his seat.
“Renjun!” Lucas called as the crowd burst into applause. Renjun waved back at them, his silver bracelet waving with him. When the crowd quieted, the timer started.
“Hello,” Renjun’s voice was calm, his eyes filled with mirth and interest. Chenle had always admired that about him- his clear intelligence.
“Renjun, you’re the youngest and the fastest out of all the tributes this year. How do you feel about that?” Lucas asked as a slideshow of Renjun’s training photos came up behind the two. Photos of Renjun, dressed in the well fitted black leggings and training tank top, filled the screen of him in various physically demanding activities. There were photos of him climbing up a rock wall, him crawling under barbed wire, and him smiling while stretching on the floor.
“It’s good to have some advantages,” Renjun smiled slyly, eyes finding the camera with a ‘I know something you don’t’ look flashing through his eyes.
“I’ve heard you have a strong support system at home, is that true?” Lucas said, the photo on the slideshow flashing to a photo of Winwin and Renjun as babies. Another photo emerged of Winwin and Chenle recently. The audience awed at the two handsome men on the screen.
Renjun looked at the photos too, almost forgetting to respond to the question. “Yes, I have my brother Winwinie and my boyfriend, Chenle.” He blushed as a photo of Chenle and him emerged on the screen. Not even Chenle was sure how they got that photo- one of him and Renjun baking cupcakes together on their first date. Out of all the photos of them, the Capital had used the one that made life look normal in the districts.
“Your boyfriend, Chenle?” Lucas quirked his eyebrows, looking at the photo of the two smiling next to the one another. Even at home, watching from his screen, Chenle felt a wave of warmth rush over him.
“Yes.”
“Is he the one who gave you the bracelet you’re wearing into the arena?” Lucas gently grasped Renjun’s wrist, the familiar silver band filling the screens of many homes around Panem.
Renjun nodded enthusiastically, motioning to his wrist. “It’s his family crest, he gave it to me when I left our district.” A photo that Chenle didn’t know existed flashed onto the screen of from when Renjun was reaped. Renjun had his face buried into Chenle’s chest with Chenle’s lips glued to the forehead. The audience cooed at the sight.
“Did he leave you any advice?” Lucas asked quietly.
Renjun shook his head no, he couldn’t say it on camera, but Chenle knew that neither of them wanted to discuss the idea of the games in their last moments together. “He told me he loved me no matter what.”
The first letter arrived the day after the interview, dated the first day Renjun had slipped onto the train to the Capital. It was addressed to ‘love’, and Chenle had peeled himself away from his television for the first time since Renjun had left.
The envelope was thick and glossy, obviously from the Capital. The letter itself was scribbled in Renjun’s sloppy, quick handwriting that Chenle had taught himself to read as time went on.
Dear Chenle,
As bittersweet as this whole thing is, I wish I could share the Capital’s meals and laugh at the Capital with you. My mentor Ten is really helpful, but is not comforting when I settle into the bedroom all by myself at night. I brought a photo of us from home.
If I die, please comfort Winwinie. I know you’ll be hurt, but you have your whole life ahead. I was Winwin’s whole life. I love you more than you know, and I think of our field when I can’t sleep at night.
Yours truly,
Renjun.
The Capital citizens cheered as Renjun sat down. A boy who looked familiar but Chenle didn’t know personally taking his spot. His two minutes passed quickly, before another young boy from 12 stepped onto the stage. Then the last.
His face was rounder than the others, but he was still thin. He had fluffy black hair on the top of his head, and a frown cemented into his face.
“Hello!” Lucas smiled to Hendery, as Chenle remembered his name.
“Hello.” Hendery said coolly.
“Hendery, you’re the first district 12 tribute in years to score above a 7 on the training. Tell us about it.”
Hendery shrugged. “I want it.”
Lucas furrowed his brows in seriousness. “Do you think you want it more than anyone else?” He wasn’t asking in disbelief, just in reassurance.
“I must if I’m doing better than them with no training.” Hendery sneered. A few in the audience clapped loudly, a wave of confidence going over the crowd. In the background, the career tributes flexed their muscles and squared their jaws.
“We will see Hendery, we will see. Until then, I wish you the best of luck.” Lucas waved goodbye in a more serious manner than he had done to Renjun.
Hendery went to join the other tributes, all 24 standing and waving. “Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, I present to you- the tributes of the 74th annual Hunger Games!”
Chenle was the one who noticed Renjun first. He was being loud in art class, walking around and joking and blabbering about whatever cupcake his mom had baked from the excess berries. His dad was mayor of the district, his mom a secretary to him, and they were the only ones who lived in a modern house in the district. They were also the only ones who could make cupcakes.
When he noticed the petite boy sitting in the chair in the corner, drowning in a grey sweatshirt and yellow pants, he shut up. For the first time in his life, he wished he hadn’t spoke. He never had cared what people thought about him, but he wanted this guy to think good of him.
For the rest of the day, he had been quiet. Everyone noticed, but Chenle avoided the questions, drowning in thought. At the end of the day, he saw the smaller boy for the second time. He was buried under an arm of another boy, probably his brother, babbling on and on about the history of the Capital and the Hunger Games. When he stopped to breath, Chenle approached.
“Hello, I’m Chenle!” He introduced himself, coming to a halt in front of the two brothers.
The smaller one looked him up and down. “I know.”
Chenle wasn’t expecting that. He was aware no one could avoid his loud voice and antics, but he expected Renjun to be more immune than most. “I-I don’t know you though.”
The other boy examined him up and down once again. “I’m Renjun.”
The media had come for Chenle the next day, standing outside his home as they threw questions at both of his parents. They didn’t answer, and Chenle sulked in front of the TV watching the recaps and interviews with each other the tributes families.
Chenle glued his eyes to the screen when Winwin came onto the screen, his brown eyes filled with curiosity at all of the cameras flashing in his eyes. “My brother is very smart,”. He beamed a smile at the cameras, a clear display of where Renjun had gotten his cool composure from. “Do not underestimate him.” Chenle found himself holding his own hand under the blanket, silently nodding along to Winwin’s words.
The second letter arrived the morning the Games were due to start, packaged in the same expensive envelope and seal. It’s addressed to ‘the love of my life’, but Chenle knows it’s his from the way the ‘L’ is looped in a slanted motion.
Dear Le-
I don’t know if your angry at me for mentioning your name in the interview, but I hope that you’re not. I’m going into the games soon, anyway. I miss you, a lot, and I snuck your sweatshirt into the big building we’re staying at. I sleep with it every night.
If you thought the careers were scary on TV, you should see them in the training room. It’s beyond terrifying, and all of them excel at one weapon, at least. Yangyang is a sweetheart, and I eat meals with him every day, but I’m not sure about having him as an ally in the games. Maybe my strategy can be sticking to myself in the trees.
Please think of me and Winwinie as this time goes on. I’m not sure when I’ll see you again, but I know when we do see each other again it will be amazing.
I can’t wait to see you again,
Yours truly,
Renjun Zhong.
Chenle wasn’t alone in his basement anymore. Winwin, in his long statue, had joined him in one of the empty seats, curling into the chair with another blanket and pillow. Both stared ahead at the screen as the countdown began.
Renjun came up, his bare face brave and bold as he took in the setting. The tributes and the cornucopia were in a valley between many rolling hills. Knee high tulip flowers surrounded all of them, in a mockery to the bloodbath that was about to occur.
Renjun smiled and Chenle smiled with him: they had their own flower field back home.
Their first date occurred in Chenle’s kitchen, Renjun trying not to gasp at the size as he look around the home. Chenle was used to it by now, but most of their classmates tried to disguise their envy. Renjun didn’t bother. “This,” He gulped. “Is really beautiful.”
“Thank you!” Chenle perked, grabbing the baking ingredients and placing them on the kitchen island where Renjun was hovered over the instructions. The smaller grabbed one of the bowls and started to grab the first set of ingredients, while Chenle watched in awe. “Have you ever baked before?”
Chenle smiled up at him. “Only in school. Winwinie thinks I’ll waste things if I bake by myself.” He looked down and concentrated on the cracking of an egg. Chenle didn’t know what life was like being poor, and he had no correlations between money and happiness- Renjun seemed happy enough.
Chenle grabbed his own bowl and began the buttercream recipe. “Is that your brother?” He asked as he warmed the water up on the stove top. Renjun nodded. “He seems cool.”
Renjun’s eyes lit up, a wide smile taking over his face. “The coolest. When we were little, we would go down to the flower fields and make arrangements for the guy that Winwin liked. We never delivered them, but we always goofed around on what it would be like.” Renjun plopped his head in his hands and stared forward dreamily.
“When am I going to get my flowers?” Chenle teased, placing his hands on his hips. Renjun didn’t respond, but got up from the island and moved towards the other. When he reached Chenle, he wrapped his hands around his waist and he pressed a soft kiss into his cheek.
“Maybe one day.”
The cornucopia was a bloodbath. Xiaojun had grabbed the first set of knives he found and stabbed one into the district threes in the stomach before turning around and swiping at the back of one of the ten’s heads. Hendery has also grabbed a set of swords and was having the time of the life swiping heads off of tributes- the other three, one four, and one six.
The camera focused onto the beefy district one boy who had finished off the small district eight boy with just his hands. Chenle didn’t say it, but he thought of what he could have done to Renjun, who was even smaller. Beefy smiled and lunged at a tribute next to him, missing by a quarter of a second and receiving a blade to his throat. A small figure emerged from behind him, a bright smile on Yangyang’s face was he grabbed a pack and sprinted off in a safer location.
When the careers- Xiaojun, both twos, and the one remaining four- had finished with the bloodbath, the camera shot back to Yangyang, who held a pack and was running through a collection of higher flowers that resembled sunflowers other than their extended height and width. Another camera switched to one of the fives, who was exploring his pack as Lucas explained the use of everything in it to the audience.
Then, Renjun came onto the screen.
He clutched a dagger in his hands, venom spewing in his eyes as he hunted behind one of the 10s. The ten had no idea, he was busy admiring the flowers and humming some pop song in his head, as Renjun stabbed him once, twice, three times before pulling his knife out and kicking the boy. He continued on as if nothing had happened.
The first night hit with only one more of the fives and one more of the nines dying before the anthem played and the faces of the dead flashed over the arena. The ten faces flashed over, before the camera cut to views of all fourteen of the remaining tributes. The careers had nestled their way into a pack of water lilies, laughing as they filled their water containers and poured water over their sweaty foreheads. Hendery was by himself by the cornucopia, laying down in the patch of tulips so his whole body was hidden. His other district 12 tribute was with him, doing the same a few feet away.
Another camera change and Yangyang was shown marching through the sunflowers, pack over his back, as he stopped and admired the pretty sight of each one. He smiled gently as he picked one of the basketball shaped flowers, putting it on his head like a hat. He continued to match goofily, raising his knees high, while laughing at himself.
The next camera soon focused on the one Chenle had dubbed 7.5 as he walked through a field of ankle level daffodils. “Hey there, hey,” Seven-point-five cooed to a small rodent like creature that popped its head up from a hole. The creature was small and almost resembled a mouse mixed with a bunny. It quirked its head, and another one appeared, the two edging closer and closer to 7.5. When 7.5 had realized what was happening, it was too late, and the heard of creatures had dug their teeth into him. Chenle didn’t watch as 7.5 was ripped to pieces, but he heard the blood curdling screams. And another cannon.
Flowers still hurt.
When Chenle and Renjun had gone to the flower fields together the first time, it was only to get out of Renjun’s house so Winwin would stop nagging them. The two had been sitting on the floor of the kitchen- one of the two rooms in the house- while eating wild blueberries while Winwin was trying to cook. One trip too many over Renjun’s skinny legs, and Winwin was screaming and nagging. It didn’t take much for the two to leave.
“Chenle, look what I found for you.” Renjun held up a handful of red poppies, smiling proudly as he shoved them into his boyfriend’s open hands. Chenle laughed his squeaky laugh, grabbing a handful of daisies and shoving them into Renjun’s open palms.
“Does he love me, does he love me not,” Chenle plucked the petals of the flowers off, throwing him into Renjun’s hair as he did so. Renjun shoved him, before Chenle laced his arms around the other’s hips and the two of them fell down into the flowers together, laughing and kissing and trapping flowers inside each others hair.
Renjun appeared on camera, sleeping. He looked sound, curled into a ball with his knife lying beside him as he snoored. Chenle gripped the edge of his seat, and waited for something bad to happen, but it didn’t. The camera went to another tribute.
The night passed uneventfully, Winwin and Chenle taking shifts over watching the screen. Renjun did nothing but slept, cuddling the dirt and snoring as he moved positions from his side to his back.
Chenle couldn’t sleep.
The first time flowers had arrived on his doorstep, they came in a clear mason jar with a pink ribbon tied around them. He didn’t have to guess who they were from because he knew. The mason jar still sat on his desk in the new house.
“Er, hello?” Yangyang stood over Renjun, holding his pack tightly to his chest and smiling down on the smaller boy. Renjun opened his eyes, grabbed his knife, and lunged to his feet.
“What?” He gripped the dagger in front of him, shooting arrows from his eyes at the other boy. He softened a bit when he noticed the way the pack was buckled shut over his chest. “Yangyang.” Renjun greeted.
“Renjun!” Yangyang smiled back, wiggling his feet just a bit.
“What?” Renjun repeated, scowling.
From home, Chenle laughed at how quickly Renjun was to ignore other guys. Even if they were fighting to death in an arena.
Yangyang shifted again, a small but hopeful smile on his face. “I want to be allies.”
“I don’t.” Renjun turned to walk away, before Yangyang grabbed him.
“Dude, I have supplies! I’m quick. I’m also not a career- and there’s four of them. Against one? I don’t think so.” Yangyang insisted, Renjun frowned but continued to follow his found new ally deeper into the flower patch.
It was a smart call, Chenle realized, as it became apparent that most of the tributes had one another together in the arena. The careers had one another, Hendery had his own district tribute, and the other six were left to their own devices across the meadow. It was safer to not be alone.
The flowers at home no longer sparkled to Chenle. When him and Winwin walked through them during the springtime, there was no longer the same happy feelings that flowers were supposed to bring. When death came it didn’t just take a life.
“Tell me about you.” Yangyang sat criss cross in between the sunflowers, smiling as he chewed on some sort of berry that Renjun had assured was safe. Renjun chewed into an apple and hummed with acknowledgement to the other.
As he swallowed a large portion of the flesh, he looked up at Yangyang. “What do you want to know?”
Yangyang thought to himself, taking another few blackberries into his mouth. “Tell me about Chenle.” He decided.
With a huff, Renjun pushed himself up from lying on his stomach until he was sitting up straight. “I met Chenle when I was 15 and he was 16. I noticed him first,” Renjun paused, smiling at the memory.
At home, Chenle lurched forward in his seat. He had never heard this before.
“He was in my art class, and one day we had to paint some stained glass flowers. I stayed after because I took forever, but when I went to put it with the others, I noticed how pretty Chenle’s was. It was golden and pink and orange, and I thought it was the most beautiful think I have ever seen. I didn’t know which one was Chenle, but I was infatuated, and once I realized it was the round faced boy with the pretty eyes, well, it was over for me.” Renjun sighed, wiggling slightly at the retelling of the story. “He noticed me one day. He came over when I was with my brother, and I sounded rude because I was just nervous but he didn’t seem to care.” Renjun chuckled before his eyes faded over. It didn’t need to be said what thought he had just had and why his face turned dark.
“LICK MY FACE,” Chenle called to Renjun across the kitchen, months later, with buttercream smeared across his face. He chased after the smaller boy, lapping him around the kitchen island before catching him and pinning him against the wall.
Renjun looked up at him, smiling broadly before standing up and licking a small bit off of Chenle’s nose. He got off his toes, closed his eyes, and leaned into Chenle. Their mouths met in the middle as the two placed gentle kisses into each other’s mouths. Buttercream smeared between the two of them, but neither seemed to notice as they pressed into one another. Chenle grabbed Renjun’s legs, lifting up so that Renjun straddled him, and carried him onto the smooth countertop.
The two never had kissed passionately before, but Chenle grinded into Renjun trying to get closer. Renjun purred against him, sat up, and placed a kiss on his cheek.
The night fell with Yangyang and Renjun whispering secrets and stories of home to each other. The careers had buried themselves into the rose bushes, lying gently as they talked strategy and the two boys- from 5 and 9- they had killed earlier. “God, he was fucking screaming like a child- did you heard him?” The boy from four gleed.
Xiaojun was bored, it was obvious. “I wish there would have been more blood. Or cleaner. It wasn’t exciting, other than his crying for mommy,” He rolled his eyes, disgusted at the weak manner of dying. There was barely even a fight from the so called ‘potential’. He thought the Hunger Games were supposed to be hard.
“Stop poking me.” One of the boys from two mumbled, shoving the other two away from and adjusting.
“I’m not poking you!” The other protested, sitting up and glaring through the dark at the other boy.
“Yes, you are! It hurts!”
The other two ran his fingers down his back and felt like rose’s thorn pushing in. It wasn’t a normal rose thorn, however: it was longer, and sharper, and had dug itself into his back. The two was now spewing blood, gasping for air, and screaming simultaneously as the other three sat and watched.
“What? WHAT?” Xiaojun screamed, not seeing the thorn before one started to grow in his direction. As quick as he could, as he’d been trained, he grabbed his bag and sprinted out of the roses.
He ran and he ran, none of the other four coming up behind him. Chenle and Winwin knew from watching that the three others were dying, being ripped apart slowly and surely by the spikes of roses. Xiaojun didn’t hear the cannons, but he didn’t have to.
He kept running, and running, until he landed near the tulips.
“I love you.” Renjun said one day, starring forward while he sat next to Chenle on a blanket in the field of flowers. His tone was light and casual, his face at peace as he stared over the mountains.
“I love you too.” Chenle responded, because it was only natural.
The beeping of a donation coming from the sky came out of a surprise. It was evident as Renjun’s mouth opened into a wide ‘O’. The capsule spiraled down, between the stems, and next to him, landing with a clunk.
He ripped the stainless steel capsule open with a few items spilling out: a water jug, two cupcakes (berry of course), and a bag of nuts to last a few days. When Renjun emptied the container, one last note slid out. The paper had a familiar family’s seal on it.
“I love you.” Renjun muttered, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his palm: when the victor watched back on all the highlights, he didn’t want to see him falling apart. Renjun was not going to go down without a fight. “Hey, hey, Yangyang,”
The other stirred in his sleep, letting loose a few mumbles. “C’mon, I have something for you. From Chenle. Food.” With that, Yangyang sat up and stared at the cupcake in Renjun’s hands. Renjun handed him one, watching in amusement as Yangyang gobbled it down.
“Tell Chenle thanks when you get back,” Yangyang rubbed his stomach, smiling gently as he laid back down on his makeshift bed of flowers. Renjun rolled his eyes, settling into his own bed, clutching the family crest close to his shift.
The two didn’t sleep long, before Renjun woke up, his nose tingling and his skin itching. “Yang,” He tried to mutter, before feeling a scratchy feeling across his throat and lungs. His eyes burned, as he grabbed his things, pulled Yangyang up, and started running.
His heart pounded, his head hurt, and his legs thumped onto the ground time and time again as he tried to feel regular air fill his lungs again. “Wow,” He coughed, turning around to face Yangyang who wasn’t there.
Music was rare in the districts, everyone knew that. Most people only got to listen to music when it came on the TV, but for Chenle, that wasn’t an issue. His basement was lined with album upon album from all ages. His mom’s 80’s music happened to be Renjun’s favorite. When ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ came onto the speakers, he would close his eyes and stretch his arms out to the sky, spinning and jumping to the beat. Chenle would join in, of course, the two grasping hands together and screaming together before collapsing onto the floor in a fit of giggles and kisses.
When Chenle volunteered as tribute for the 75th annual Hunger Games, all he could think of the way Renjun would collapse on the floor in laugher and the way Renjun collapsed in the games before his, screaming his name with his last breath.
Renjun walked and walked, the numb feeling not fading from his chest the harder he stomped his feet or the tighter he clutched his dagger. “Ren-jun.” The sharp, harsh voice called from behind him. The shorter boy turned around, glaring at the source of his voice.
“Xiaojun.”
Xiaojun cocked an eyebrow, twisting the pair of swords he had taken from his last kill around his wrists. “What a pleasure.” Xiaojun’s voice made it clear it was not, in fact, a pleasure.
Renjun couldn’t run. He couldn’t go anywhere. He fought with all he could, but when the time came, it wasn’t enough. Neither Chenle or Winwin watched the final fight, but both heard the scream of Chenle’s name echoing throughout the basement.
The last letter arrived a month later. Dark circles has engraved themselves onto Chenle’s thinner face, and the color of his skin was gone. The fire of anger had grown too big, consumed him, and left behind the skeleton of the boy who once lived.
Winwin wasn’t doing much better. Yuta, the handsome man from the market, told Chenle that he was unable to sleep alone now.
Dear Lele,
I’m writing to you quickly before I go into the arena. Please, never forget me. You’re the love of my life, and all of my happy memories involve you. You’re the first boy I ever noticed on the first day of school, the way you strolled in with confidence and a glint in your eyes that I couldn’t replicate. When I met you, you turned my world upside down. Flowers became more than just pollen holders and berries became more than just fruit. You’re more than just my boyfriend, Chenle, you’re my everything.
You’re going to be on my mind throughout everything, and you’re going to be the last thought on my mind whether it’s in five minutes or in fifty years, in your arms. Never forget me, I love you so much.
Yours truly,
Renjun.
“The 75th annual Hunger Games is going to be composed half of old victors and half of new tributes- the newer the victor the greater there chance of being thrown back into the arena.” Lucas told the TV proudly, smiling that pearly white smile. “That means last year’s victor, Xiaojun will most definitely be returning to the arena.”
The TV shut off.
“Good luck,” Ten, his official mentor, rubbed his back while Chenle rubbed the silver bracelet around his wrist. He didn’t want luck, he didn’t even want to win, he just wanted revenge.
The small elevator took him to the cornucopia, the 47 other tributes all staring one another down as they took in the tundra landscape with no warmth in sight. Chenle didn’t need warmth. He had a fire burning inside.
Kill Xiaojun.
It wasn’t hard to kill. He wasn’t Renjun and soft by nature: he was Chenle and he was loud, confident, and willing to harm anyone who got in his way. The first was an older victor from 12, then a younger kid from 3. The kills didn’t feel like kills to him. He didn’t feel more empty or more full from the blood on his blades he just felt dull.
He had studied Xiaojun’s tapes from the games before and he knew him. He didn’t stalk, he didn’t hunt, he just let people walk into his trap and lured them in for the kill. Chenle knew this, and he knew to stay in the same place and let Xiaojun walk into his own trap.
When he had stopped Xiaojun, Xiaojun hissed, his awful sharp teeth sliding into a smirk. “Hey, love bird,” He taunted, turning around and gripping his bow and arrow to his side.
“Shut up.” Chenle hissed in response, gripping his own throwing knives to his side. His aim was flawless, much to his knowledge and very little to Xiaojun’s.
“What? I killed your lover boy and now I’m going to kill you too.” Xiaojun licked his lips, his menacing smile taking over as his eyes darkened. “Chenle! Chenle!” Xiaojun mocked, throwing his hands up in fake surrounder.
Chenle had fantasized about this moment for ages. Fantasized about how he would make him suffer, slowly squeezing the life out of him. That wasn’t the case. The knives left his hands before he could stop them, one landing on Xiaojun’s throat and the other piercing his stomach.
Chenle breathed again once the cannon burst, collapsing onto the ground with one word repeating itself over and over from his lips.
When Chenle returned home, Ten and Kun wrapped arounds him and hugged him through his sobs until there was no more sobs left to give. The victor of the 75th Hunger Games.
The Game Leader had given him Renjun’s ashes and together,Winwin, Chenle, and Yuta walked through the flower fields at the edge of the district and spread them, whispering good memories to the boy that was once their entire world. The ankle length daisies kissed their feet. The flowers had returned, and sometimes, Chenle’s chest didn’t hurt.
He saw Renjun sometimes. He saw him whenever he saw the mason jar in the empty bedroom in his new house, and he saw him whenever he was alone too long, or when he stared at the photos of them lining the walls. When the wind blew, he heard his laughter. When the sun shined, he saw his smile.
He knew he would see his lover again one day for real and then they could walk through flowers again and the idea of flowers filling the empty mason jar wouldn’t be such a bad one.