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The sudden pain of being shot then waking up back in his bed, threw Scott off. Gasping for air and touching his side where he’d been shot, lifting his shirt, he felt tender raised skin under his fingers. The hearts on his now only glowed yellow instead of the vibrant green. He quickly got off the bed, rummaging around for backup equipment and running towards the desert bunker.
Lava sizzling and quiet voices greeted him as he arrived. Scar stood next to a now yellow Grian, ashy gray body covered in blood, sand and sweat. The pair turned to their ally, Scott shivered when he met the blood red eyes of Scar. He looked tired. Incredibly tired. He stopped in front of the two. “Where’s Jimmy?” The question came out as soon as he stopped in front of them. Scar looked to the bunker. Grian closed his eyes. Scott turned from them, running to the bunker. He quickly clambered through the large crater and made a quick bridge across the lava pit. Arrows stuck out all over the small building, small blood splatters lined the door. Scott heaved the iron door open. There was blood everywhere on the wooden floor. His heart dropped when he saw the torn jacket covering the face of the body.
Hands shaking, Scott gently pulled the top of the jacket down, a tuft of matted blonde hair popped out, Scott let out a wail. He fell to his knees, the blood seeping through his jeans. Jimmy laid there, a broken off arrow sticking out of his throat. Eyes closed, neck smeared with blood and sand. Scott picked up his left arm, the hearts had gone dark. The only thing that shone was the gold band around his ring finger. He didn’t know when the tears started to fall or when he started screaming his name. All he knows is that he felt arms around him in an attempt to soothe him.
Scar stood in the doorway of the bunker. Watching the cyan haired man scream and sob over the body of the bubbly red. His eyes flicked over to Grian, who had his arms wrapped around Scott, trying to soothe him. Grian looked up at him, eyes filled with sadness and pain. He looked away from the scene. Red or not, there was no soothing the guilt and sorrow that filled his heart listening to the wails of heartbreak.
Grian and Scar followed behind Scott as he stumbled back to the flower forest. Carrying Jimmy’s body. They waited outside the burnt gate as Scott went inside, laying Jimmy’s body next to the pond. He tore off a piece of his torn shirt and dipped it in the water, cleaning off Jimmy’s face and the area around his neck. Memories of the happy man ran through his mind. Both of them sitting by the pond, as green names, pants rolled up and feet dunked in the cool water. “Do you think we’ll be the ones to win?” Scott looked at the blonde haired man from the corner of his eye. “There’s supposed to only be one victor, Jimmy.” He turned to Scott, sitting straight up, a defiant look in his eye, “No. We both will win .” Scott chuckled at him, his hand reaching for the other’s. “Whatever you say, Sunflower.”
Flower petals flowed gently through the breeze, the sound of running water filled the small area. The smell of burnt wood and ashes lingered all around. Scott stared blankly at the boarded up door across the pond. A torn and blooded jacket laid across his shoulders, the haphazardly stitched ‘S’ barely hanging on by a thread. He absentmindedly played with the sleeve. The mound of fresh dirt with the poppies laid around it was begging for his attention, he refused to look at it.