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Illusion of Choice

Summary:

Sometimes the illusion of choice is more painful than not having a choice at all.

AKA Scott has a breakdown and is totally justified

Trigger Warning: Implied sexual trafficking, SA, Dubious Consent and a bunch of other stuff- Ifk the Hunger Games think Finnicks backstory

Notes:

Someday ill write someone having a good day.
Not today though.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Scott knew well what was expected of him. As a Victor, as a Mentor and as a public figure in the Capitol in general. Keep smiling, keep showing up and keep being lovely and keep up the facade of the ditzy pretty boy enamoured with the Capitol’s spark. When he’d won, it had been presented to him as an opportunity, to keep shining after his Victory Tour, it looked even appealing to him, until an older Victor, a woman from 2 had told him the truth of what it entailed and the consequences refusal would have.

A District 8 spokeperson they had called him, although most of the time they preferred he shut up and look pretty. They loved his precious company in the Capitol high society, but most could not even afford the privilege. Scott surely hadn’t been afforded the right to refuse, every night he was dolled up in a different way for someone new to enjoy. Gem had told him that even if the Gamemakers had pretended to make him the offer to take up the role, where he to refuse they would take it out on his family and Scott could not allow that. He already had nightmares everynight about his little sister getting Reaped and he having to mentor her to her death, he couldn’t afford to take anymore risks.

So that’s how he’d ended up on the bathroom floor at a fancy Capitol manor, running away from the pre-Life Games party he had been invited to. The organiser, an old lady with a voice who sounded like entitlement drenched in honey, had paid a pretty penny for his presence both during the event, to show off his face and after to keep her company that night. It wasn’t much different than most of his other nights, but since he’d gotten there Scott hadn’t had a moment without a stranger’s hand on him and it had become too much.

So he had ended up shaking and dry heaving on the cold tile of the master bathroom, looking for a moment of peace, away from the wandering hands of the elites. Normally he could bear it, choke down his disgust and horror and just wait it out, but the growing amount of things going had overwhelemd him. It would be Martyn who usually guided him through these moments, he rarely was the soft type but the few times Scott had called him while spiraling he had managed to turn his anger off and be kind and supportive. Not that night though, he had broken up with him and now he was alone.

As he scrolled through his measly contact list he wondered who he could call, but once he exculded the People of the Hog, who surely weren’t the kind he needed to talk him through a panic attack, Martyn, still with a bunch of <3 attached to his contact name and Pearl, who hadn’t spoken to him in months, all who was left was Gem, which he was sure was already asleep. So he sat alone, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“Hey, sweetie, are you alright in there?“

The kind words came through the door, as Scott’s host jiggled the handle, betraying more annoyance than actual worry. When he didn’t immediately respond, she spoke up again.

“Come out, we all miss you so much out there, you’re the life of the party.“

“I’ll be right there, just give me a moment, I think that the shrimp didn’t agree with my stomach.”

Scott barely choked out. The answer came, short and lacking any residual gentleness.

“Be quick. I’m not paying you to so that you can hide yourself away.“

Notes:

i made myself disgusted and angry writing this, i am already planning a revenge like 200k words from now.

Leave a kudo for scott, he just needs it
If you liked this check me out at @notsticks-notsticks !