Day After the Tea Party, Fiveās Suite (@losinqtouchā)
Two Days. Thatās all the time they have left. He never really believed that anything could stop the Games, and yet he still feels taken by surprise.
He should be making the most of it, but instead heās doing something else. Running away. It hardly feels like it matters: give him two days or twenty, he still isnāt going to say any of the words he might want to say, and he isnāt going to do it because he already knows he wonāt receive any of the words he wants in return. Time isnāt the problem, when he canāt reach inside Harborās mind, find the memories that went missing and bring them back to surface.
Years from nowā(if he makes it that long)āmaybe heāll look back on this with regret, but he doesnāt know what he could do differently now that would change anything. He made his bed a long time ago. This is just him living with it.
Living with it, but he canāt say for how long. With the shitshow this Quell has become, to say nothing of the number of them that already havenāt made it through, itās easy to imagine the Capitol cleaning house of anyone who was a part of it.
Fiveās suite feels as good of a place as any to hide. Avenās never judged him, heās never judged her. Theyāve both always been survivors; or maybe just cockroaches. He canāt imagine that she feels sanguine about the brink that theyāre all teetering on, filled with revolutionary fervor.
Though of course, itās not only Aven and Emory in Fiveās suite, their Tributes, not anymore. Though when Aven opens the door, there isnāt a blonde head in sight.Ā āThank god,ā he says, still keeping his voice low enough not to carry.Ā āFor a second I was afraid Iād have to make small talk, and I canāt say Iām feel very sociable.ā