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Nighttime comes as quick as everything else was. The tributes had brought their hunting and fighting to a standstill, all exhausted from the adrenaline of the games. Some had already formed camps with their newfound allies, some slept alone. Among the many tributes that are still alive, there was a tall, blue-haired boy who rested under the large trees that covered the majority of the arena.
Yonghoon stared blankly up to the starless sky, wrapped snugly in the sleeping bag he managed to grab from the cornucopia. The only sounds heard were the crickets around the place. It was eerily silent. He half expected someone crept up on him by now.
Another canon boom, signalling what he hoped was the last death of the night. Not long after, the faces of the fallen tributes flashed across the sky. Yonghoon didn't recognize most, but he did remember a few from the training sessions.
Then an all too familiar face appeared.
His district partner, a few years younger than him, died even before the game could begin. The memory flashed in his mind, seeing the already bleeding body being stabbed over and over by another tribute.
He was supposed to help his partner, yet he did nothing.
*coward* a voice in the back of his mind whispered, but he brushed it away.
"Shall we go far away..."
Despite his hoarse voice, the song that comes out flows like a calm river, lulling him to a false sense of security. He refused to think about how helpless and pathetic he looked right now, mumbling a lullaby to himself as tears threatened to pour.
Perhaps he should close his eyes, there is still tomorrow to come.
Unless he dies in his sleep.
Which honestly, doesn't seem too bad.
Yonghoon falls asleep with his hands gripping the sleeping bag tight, oblivious to the faint rustling that slowly got louder.