a pause, a road,

no flush at night to sound your return, i still pretend you're only out of sight ...

“I’m sorry, mom, I did not want to influence fashion trends into bringing purple back. No, of course. I know – I know – hell and purple, what a match. It didn’t occur to me. No, I–” Lysander took a deep breath, not noticing there was another person witnessing the conversation. It was fairly early into the day and most sponsors piled up in different lounges, together, chatting about the arena speedily, as if afraid they’d run out of time before seeing every bit of it. “I…” Eye contact with another person froze his words in his throat. Now this was embarrassing. “I’ll call you later. I didn’t mean to. Goodbye.”

“the fact that you’re head gamemaker and you still have your mom criticizing every little thing you do gives me absolutely no hope for the future,” he remarked casually, a sly bit of amusement at the interaction he’d witnessed mixed with unease. capitolite parents were notoriously insatiable, but shit. good to know there really was no escaping it, it made it easier to stop trying. “how long until she calls back? i give it five minutes, tops.”

Maverick raised his eyebrows at him. He knew Rust was a Bellerose, and if he was anything like Clementine, he’d be completely chill, probably a delight to have at the party. But then again, Honey was nothing like Clementine. Rust could really fall anywhere on the spectrum. But he was sure that Rust hadn’t been invited. He nodded towards the gift. “What’s in it?”

“what’s in it?” wasn’t it kind of rude to ask that? “are you gonna turn me away if not the newest phone?” he wasn’t really expecting any of this to be a problem, annoyance creeping into his tone in the slightest. “it’s a secret.” 

It was difficult not to feel at least a little bit confused as to why Rust was so angry at him of all people. Why he was being such a mean fucking brat to him. “To be clear once and for all, I left him. Why are you so incredibly rude, by the way? No one ever taught you manners, or some shit?” He was trying not to lash out in turn, but the flash of hurt that crossed his features was only easy to miss because of the darkness in the bar. 

“why am i so rude?” rust wanted to laugh, bark out a nasty scoff dripping in contempt. “why would i owe you, of all people, anything different? what have you ever done but ruin people’s lives inside and out of the arena?” he continued to shout, his throat starting to strain with every word. “if you knew anything about me or my family you’d know i have some fucking manners, just none when it comes to you. what are you gonna do about it?” 

A glimmer of recognition sparked in his eyes. He knew it was rickety ground he was on, but he proceeded anyway. Permission was the last thing he needed, but some sort of provocation, of consent, made it feel less cruel if he did speak badly of Honey. “Oh, no, thanks. I’m saving myself for when she kills herself because of withdrawal pain. It’s probably not going to be very easy for you to watch.”

Carol hissed at nothing in particular, with sheer distaste for where the conversation was going, Though he didn’t withdraw, no. He analyzed the feeling with the generosity of an exhibit at the museum. “Absolutely I did nothing wrong. He was already dying. I made it dignifying at the expense of my mental stability.” He didn’t want to say that some of it was pride, too. The pride of having killed him with his two hands, even if compelled, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do, in the end. “I think it matters less than you think whether I’m consumed by guilt or not. We’re all just trying to live.”

“you think you’re clever?? well, you’re gonna have to fucking try harder than that— you think i don’t expect her to go exactly like that? it runs in the family to be major fuck ups, why would this be any different?” it didn’t bother him but all the same, it did. and of course, it was in that stupid, cliched older brother way. how it was okay when he said these things, but it was different when it was someone else. he could be cruel, tell honey she was going to get herself killed with a straight face, but no one else could say the same. he could resent her like she’d committed heinous crimes against him, and only him— and definitely not some arrogant fucker like carol eyre. 

his throat dried up with disappointment like salt water at carol’s explanation. of course, it didn’t matter if he was consumed by guilt. in fact, it didn’t matter how he felt at all. it never changed anything, certainly not something like this. “but don’t you wish things could have been different?” 

“honey’s scary. honey can do it. she’s scarier than poppy.” Clementine didn’t know, actually, if that was true. but she had to believe so, because with the benefit of hindsight on poppy, saying honey was like poppy was a death sentence. so her sister had to be better. she just had to be. “you’ll see, rust. and then you’ll be sorry.”

he wondered now if clementine was already starting to regret calling rust. he’d prepared himself for coming back, but he hadn’t prepared himself for what he’d find out that night he came back. why did he have to see that? there was no telling if his words had made any difference to honey, if they’d help her or hurt her but either way he doubted that this was what clementine thought she’d be getting into when she called him back. he stayed quiet for what felt like a lifetime, trying to step back into the big brother role. “we can make her odds better. get her sponsors. i mean— if anyones good at talking to old boring capitolites with too much money, it’s the bellerose triplets, right?...” 

Colette’s eyebrows raised up just about as high as they could go, wrinkling her forehead (something she tried to avoid), but… she had not expected him to say that. She hadn’t known that Honey had a drug problem, and she ran back the footage in her mind of Honey’s first few hours in the Arena. Was she going through withdrawals? Was she high? “You know, Rust, you might regret saying that someday,” she said, very careful and controlled.

he felt his features harden at her words, like a protective shell just growing stronger after every hit. “regret? i have nothing to regret,” he answered simply. and that was true, wasn’t it? it wasn’t him who had gone into the arena after doing a line. it wasn’t him who’d gone in without any sense of consequence, any thought to spare for a sister or a brother who needed him to do well out there so he could come back alive, who needed someone who wouldn’t leave, who wasn’t resigned to leaving. he didn’t regret it, even if everything in colette’s tone told him he very well should have, and he maybe should have. but he just couldn’t, not yet, at least. 

“No can do, gotta save myself for my one thousand sit ups,” he quipped, shaking his head. “Sorry you missed the show. Unless that’s why you wandered over…?” Rust already seemed to hate him, so he may as well throw some flagrant flirting in to the mix to alleviate the humiliation of being called out on his bullshit. What was the worst that could happen, right?

“so, what you’re saying is you like an audience...?” he teased, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the mans blatant egotism. instead, he let out a small sigh, crossing his legs as he took a seat on a nearby bench. “go on, then. i needed a break anyways, might as well have a show to go along with it,” he urged, resting his face on his hand, a finger tapping against his cheek impatiently. 

“I talk more than your sisters,” he huffed. It wasn’t even a real competition, he didn’t care about the sisters. What came next, about the other guy, was a low blow, defusing the air in Carol’s lungs, leaving none for breathing for a second. But Carol was edgy and collected enough to get on board with the conversation. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.” His tone was sharp, but genuine. Rio was better than thousands of these boys, all at once. “He would have let me make fun of his tribute sister, had she ended up in there.”

Guilt. He despised the taste, and all their expectation that he’d be all holes, eaten away by guilt. For that alone, he didn’t want to know of the feeling. “No, guilt really is not it. I do miss him all of the time, though.”

“for all the talking you do, you say very little,” he rebutted. he wanted mockery without consequence, like a child who couldn’t play nice, and maybe that’s what bothered him so much about carol. because for nineteen years of his life, he’d done nothing but play nice out of survival or personal gain, he could never tell. and now, he found himself without filter, with words that felt strained and foreign on his tongue. and yet it was something that came so easy to carol. it made his blood boil. “go on, then. make fun of my tribute sister.” 

“is that because you think you did nothing wrong? or is it because you lack all the remorse necessary to feel any guilt at all?” rust implied, though he didn’t believe it, not quite. such judgement about guilt was rich coming from him, the son of capitolites who built their wealth on the aesthetics of killing children once or twice a year. there was an infinity to be guilty for if you take that blame.

“What? No, no, who the fuck needs spots on pull ups?” Him, maybe (probably, embarrassingly enough?), but he wasn’t about to admit to that. Especially not to someone who was as much of a looker as Rust. “But so sorry for like, saying hi. Didn’t realize you were feeling so frosty, but it’s cool. They won’t need to crank the AC as high in here.”

rust shrugged, pursing his lips to keep from laughing in cade’s face. “i mean, you sure looked like you were struggling. but i reckon that was because you just got done with your.. one thousandth pull up did you say?” he remarked with an air of ridiculousness. “but don’t let me stand in the way, why not make it two thousand?” 

what was rust trying to say? was rust trying to prep clementine for the idea that honey was going to die? she wasn’t. she just wasn’t. not today, anyways. this was just the bloodbath and honey was going to handle that. she wasn’t going to die. her eyes were filling, though, stressed and tired and terrified and suddenly her eyes were filling and she couldn’t see the computer she was typing on. “shut up, rust.” Clementine couldn’t deal with this.

“clem, you know as well as i do, she doesn’t stand a chance out there,” he continued impassively, finally having in him to look at the screen for the first time, an expressionless stare side for the slight twitch of his eyebrows trying to knot together — all that he could really muster up in him to try and display some type of concern, either for clementine’s sake or just to prove that he had some in the first place. he sighed, casting his eyes towards a rip in the wallpaper below the screen instead. “the capitol has become as easy of kills as twelve at this point. hell, at least twelve has some victors.”