#th8xreader

Notes: I thought I would have time to get through the entirety of the new chapter. I didn't realize it had been so long since my last update...SO! Here is a preview of Chapter 4 to hopefully hold you over. Merry Thanksgiving!!

Synopsis: As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!XuiMinghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 708

Attributes: Fluff, Slow-burn, Angst, HungerGamesAU, Hunger Games Insert fic, Violence, Political Tones. [If I can think of anything else I'll add it later :)]

Note/Warning: I’m unsure how long it will take to fully finish this, but I will complete the story. A good amount of the content is already written; it just needs some revisions. The story will unfold over several chapters, following the format of the first three films. Also, this is my first fic! So thank you for reading! I have also tried to keep physical descriptions to a minimum so anyone can read! (I tried my best couldn't find a nondescript neutral photo for the collage that would fit the theme of the 1st arena)

Chapter 3

Chapter 4: One foot in the Door

Three tight consecutive knocks rapped against the door startling Y/N awake. Her eyelids struggled to lift, the stress over the day's events weighing her down. “Dinner in the main cart, be prompt young lady,” even through the door Y/N can hear Effie’s cut together precise tone. Y/N drags her body upright, muscles already aching. The little light flowing in from her room’s window has begun to turn an orange-yellow hue as it crawls across the floor. Letting out a deep breath she stands from the bed that has all but folded itself in around her, too soft she thinks to herself, and not a years of aged away lumpy “soft”. 

Looking to the floor Y/N notices a pair of slippers waiting beside the bed. Sliding them onto her feet Y/N pads over to the door. The electronic door slides open with no command as she steps into the train card hall. Almost in sync, Jeahyun emerges out of his own room. The teenager Y/N notes is still in his reaping attire, a worn brown suit with worn padded elbows of which stitches have begun unraveling most likely the last few years. The two of them stood side by side is almost comical, Y/N’s silken capital sleepwear attire and Jaehyun’s district twelve signature hand-me-down wear, a true juxtaposition of their past and their coming days. 

“Hungry?” Y/N asks with no emotion to her voice as their eyes meet. The tiredness of her (E/C) colored eyes reflected in the boys own ebony eyes. 

”Not in the slightest” Jaehyun replies as he steps forward, the two falling into motion as they head back towards the main cart. 

“Can’t wait for them to stuff us like pigs then starve us out?” she questions. While joking, their impending hunger was imminent even in the face of the reality neither would be expelling the nausea settled deep in their stomach. Jaehyun quirks a smile at her remark. “At any rate we probably should try to stomach whatever we can before we get into the arena. Who knows what terrain they'll throw us into.” she says seriously. 

Reaching the compartment the two are met with Effie who has taken to fussing over the silverware aligning each shiny piece with surgical precision. Heymitch, sat at the dining cart table as Effie buzzes around him, is slouched over with a new glass filled with a different shimmering fine capital liquor sloshing within. The two teens pause in the doorway causing Effie’s head to perk up in alert of their arrival. “Come, come” she waves them over excitedly. Jaehyun and Y/N make their way to the table pulling the heavy chairs out and sit. A pair of Axov emerge from a connecting door with steaming plates causing Heymitch to stir and manage to pull his head up despite the almost visible weight pulling it down. The hunger, the type of dripping starvation that sits in the pit of the stomach of those that live on Twelve’s district outskirts and poorer areas is a sensation that must never leave, no matter how much he drowns it out with drink after drink, capital refined liquor or the hobs cheapest moonshine, must rumble within the older man as well. 

Placed in front of them is a small chicken like roast, with what were its legs that too ran free now caught by the capital are tied together, as a moat of sauce and vegetables clings around it. The sight alone reminds Y/N of her own position in these games, causing a new violent wave of queasyness to rumble throughout her. 

A dry-snarky-chuckle breaks the young woman from her tunneling thoughts. As Y/N looks up at Heymitch who already has his gaze set on her and silverware heading for the bird. Her eyebrows drawn together in confusion as her lips purse. “You seem settled in,” he jabs, ripping into the poultry before him. 

Y/N eyebrows quirk, “That makes two of us”. 

As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!Minghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 3,855

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Notes: A bit of a shorter chapter here, but still long enough I hope. I got the new book today! I'm so excited to read it!! It may be a little bit longer until I write the next chapter because I will be pre-occupied with that, but no fear it will be on the way soon. We also won't be seeing Minghao for the next few chapters :,( , but no fear he will still be important to the story! So please stick with me <3

Chapter 2: Shadow’s of the New Day 

The Peacekeepers grab Jaehyun and Y/N by the upper arms, forcefully pulling them into the Justice Building. Y/N’s feet drag behind her, stumbling as they hurry her along towards one of the room’s they use for tributes family and friends send off. Her heart beats erratically, a peace that pinches her chest, as each step amplifies thudding, drowning out everything else. 

The Justice Building is cold, its gray walls oppressive. The air smells faintly of mold and bleach, its walls coated in harsh lined shadows cast by the tall, narrow windows that look out into the courtyard. The light that filters through does little to banish the heaviness of the situation, a weight pressing at her lungs as Y/N inhales shakily. Every inch of this place feels foreign, she’s walking the first step of this nightmare of the journey to the capital that will end in her death. 

The Peacekeeper opens the door to a small office, letting go of Y/N’s upper arms as he all but pushes her in. Out of the corner of her eye Y/N sees a last glance of Jaehyun as he’s shoved in to his own make-shift send off room. 

“One Hour” the Peacekeeper barks before all but slamming the door shut.

Y/N’s eyes scan the surprisingly well lit  room. There's a couch—it almost looks new, its cracking leather at the corners it's only give away of its age, but still the piece of furniture is far better than anything she’s ever had at home. She can’t even remember if her own bed at home ever looked so pristine. An empty desk sits on the right wall of the room facing the coach, and large bookcases line the wall separating the two. 

The shock of the entire situation still has yet to dissipate within Y/N. Sit or Stand, SIt or Stand, Y/N ponders to herself unsure what to do with her anxious energy. Sit, she decides. Landing on the coach Y/N runs her rands across its cool surface, soft she thinks to herself a childlike wonder reflects in her eyes as she takes in the new experience. Its soft in a way that makes Y/N’s stomach flip, knowing it's the first and last upper class object she’ll experience in her district but a forebode to the things in the capital she’ll see and experience before her ultimate demise. There’s no springs prodding at her, or lumpy inconsistencies to the filling of the couch. Y/N can’t recall if her bed at home had ever been this comfortable. She allows for her weight to sink into the cushion, limbs slightly loosening as the reality of the situation starts to settle in further.

Y/N sits in the silence of the room, the seconds stretching out into a false infinity. What did I do to deserve this? Her mind keeps circling back to that one thought, but i guess no one truly deserves to get plucked from their home and family to be shoved into a ring that adapts every year to be more and more entertaining for those in the Capitol. She’s never been the rebellious one, the troublemaker. She’s just a girl from District 12, one that was supposed to be free from this system after this reaping. To go have the closest semblance to a normal life with Minghao. She can feel the tears threatening again, the familiar pressure building behind her eyes.

The door swings open, breaking Y/N from her spiraling trance. Y/N’s heart skips a beat as she looks at her mother. The older women, tears streaming down her face, moves toward Y/N with haste. Y/N mother drags the young woman into her arms, falling to her knees as she pulls Y/N, still sat on the couch, toward her. The embrace--Y/N would have usually complained was strangling --but now, it is the last time she’ll ever be held by her mother. The hug breaks whatever computer Y/N had left, her tears now run freely down her roundish cheeks as she hiccups with sobs.

Y/N mother leans back, keeping her hands rightly on Y/N’s shoulders, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine,” she says, wiping the tears from Y/N’s face with her left hand. YN’s arms hang lifeless at her sides. What fight do I have? The Career districts are trained for these games, Y/N internally scoffs, the most she could ever manage is getting past the bordering fence of the district without getting electrocuted.

As Y/N looks at her mother, she finds the same fear that gnaws at her own gut, an anxiety that won’t let her breathe, reflecting back at her. She’s not strong enough to do this. She knows that deep down. Y/N doubts that even her mother can truly even believe that she can come out alive.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N chokes out, the words spilling before she can stop them. 

Her mother shakes her head, her grip tightening on  Y/N’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault,” she says firmly. Y/N’s mother pulls the girl back into her embrace. There’s no time to pretend, this is real.

Y/N’s arms hang limply by her sides, she knows she’s nothing like the tributes from the Career districts. Nothing like those that sneak past the gates to catch extra food free from the Capital’s Tesserae. Others have skills, or have been trained for this—prepared. 

As Y/N and her mother try to find some kind of composure, the door opens again. Her family walks in, faces struck with grief. She's not even dead yet but Y/N feels as if she's a walking corpse beside them. In the mere seconds between the door opening and closing, Y/N catches a glimpse of the Peacekeeper stationed outside. No chance of running, she thinks to herself. Past her personal guard, Y/N can see Effie stood by the Justice Buildings door. Though Y/N couldn't hear or make out what the women was saying, it was evident in her movement that Effie wanted them to get a move on.

Her Aunt Lynn bursts forward, wailing as she grabs Y/N from her mothers embrace and into own.  “This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all!,” Aunt Lynn says, voice breaking. Uncle Sam stands behind, his hand on her back, silent. His eyes, though, are full of that same helplessness that Y/N feels.

After a few minutes Aunt Lynn steps back, allowing Aunt Sophia to take her turn. The woman strokes Y/N’s hair, the action returning Y/N to her youth. She feels small, the moment causing more tears to stream down her face as she reveals in the childhood comfort being provided to her. Uncle Ian steps aside of them and wraps his arms around them both.

“I can’t do this,” Y/N croaks.

“Like hell you can’t. You’re walking out of that arena,” Olive speaks out, her lips trembling as she tries to conceal her own emotions. “You’re not going to let them win,” she says so determined. 

The room falls quiet. For a moment, the thought of surviving crosses Y/N’s mind. THe idea that she could come home after everything the Capital is going to put her through. But it’s not a reality, District 12 never wins. She’ll be discarded and forgotten, like all the tributes before her. The Games are a death sentence, and it’s not just the fighting she’s scared of—it’s what she’ll possibly become. How could I ever come back from this the same? Y/N questions to herself.

“We believe in you,” Alice says softly. 

Aunt Sohpia and Uncle Ian unwrap their arms from around Y/N and step back.

Sat alone on the couch Y/N leans forward, resting her head in her hands. She can’t keep looking into their eyes, seeing what she’s about to lose. Mateo sits down beside her, the couch bouncing with his weight. He wraps his left arm around Y/N, pulling her into his side. “You’re going to show those pompous, overprivileged peacocks in the Capitol what a real winner is,” there’s no amusement in his eyes but a steeling determination for her.

Y/N looks up at him, a half-hearted scoff escaping her lips. “I’m serious,” he presses, squeezing her shoulders. “If anyone is going to make it through that arena in 12, it’s going to be you. You’re smart—one of the top graduates in our class. How many times have you given the Peacekeepers the slip on days they actually cared to catch people? You’re going to be fine.”

​​As much as Mateo and Y/N give each other crap, their bond was sibling-like. His support and statement almost enough to make her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could survive this. But the doubt creeps back in, how many tributes thought they were going survive and come home but didn’t? Shoving the doubt back down, Y/N’s tears have dried a bit, a new steel of confidence building in her eyes as Y/N racks her brain for a plan to get home.

A new knock broke the silence. The door creaked open, and in walked three of Y/N’s closest friends: Eden, Caden, and Yugi.

Eden was one of the brightest lights in Y/N’s life, always ready with a word of encouragement when everything seemed impossible. Normally, her long, wavy blond hair fell in waves like sunlight, but her hair seemed to fall flat today, it seemed to hold an emotion of its own. Her round brown eyes that usually sparkled with unshakable positivity, were dim, devoid of their usual hope. Eden’s posture was sagged, the weight of the day having stolen her light.

Beside Eden, Caden stood—her usual dry humor tempered seemingly forgotten as its been replaced with something Y/N rarely saw in her: raw vulnerability. Caden had been Y/N’s number one supporter. The girl was District 12’s number one hater, always stepping in with a joke or a snarky comment when Eden or Minghao started getting too optimistic. But today, her sharp face usually upturned in some sort of ‘I know something you don't’ expresion, was replaced by tears she couldn’t hold back. Y/N observed her friend's stature—Caden had always hidden behind her long hair, but not today. Caden’s hair was cropped short, a result of a lost bet with one of her own siblings the week prior to the Reaping. She regretted cutting it, Y/N could tell. She could have hidden her tears, at least.

Yugi stood beside Caden. Yugi’s hair was a vibrant orange, a DIY job gone right despite the odds—still messy, but somehow it worked. She had always been the loudest of the group, never afraid to speak her mind, to push everyone forward when they wanted to stand still. Her face was tight with sorrow, a sharp contrast to her usual fire.

The three of them stepped forward in unison, embracing Y/N. The pressure of their hug brought a laugh out of Y/N—a small, weak thing that barely touched her lips. A melancholy moment, she thought, as they all clung to her like a life raft in a storm.

“Alright, alright,” Caden broke the silence with a dry laugh. “Let’s not get all emotional now, huh? We’re still here. You’re still here. And we’re not gonna let them take you that easily.” She pulled back, but her hands remained on Y/N’s shoulders, her eyes puffy from the tears. “Promise me—they’re gonna have to pry you out of the arena if they even try to take you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But she meant it. She had to.

“Good,” Caden nodded, her lips twitching like she wanted to crack a joke, but couldn't quite manage it.

“I know things seem insane right now,” Eden’s soft voice broke through the moment. She met Y/N’s eyes, her face still gentle but lined with worry. “But listen to me. You’ve got this. You’ve got more strength than you realize. I know it might not feel like it now, but... you’ll show them, Y/N. You’ve got this, You’ll make it.” her voice cracking at the end of her sentence.

Y/N gave her close friend the best half-smile she could muster. Eden was always the one who had a way of making everything sound possible. It was comforting. Y/N nodded, silently appreciating the gesture.

“I know people are saying it’s impossible,” Yugi spoke up, her voice unwavering. “But who cares what they say, right?” She stepped back, her fiery gaze locking on Y/N’s, and her expression was all fierce determination. “You’ve got more grit in your pinky finger than most of these people have in their whole bodies. They’re gonna have no idea what hit ‘em. You’re gonna show them what District 12 is made of.” Yugi paused, her voice softening just a little. “We believe in you, Y/N.”

Y/N's throat tightened. There it was again—that tiny spark of hope they all tried to light for her. She could feel it now, the warmth in the room, the strength of her friends' belief in her. The love of not just her friends but her family. It was so hard to hold onto, but she didn’t want to let it go. Not now. Not when it might be the only thing keeping her from completely losing herself.

The knock on the door breaks the moment. It creaks open slowkey, breaking the pregnant silence that had begun to take over the room. Y/N’s heart skips a beat as Minghao walks into the room with his parents, their faces drawn with pained grief. Y/N stands, meeting him halfway. Their arms wrap around each other instantaneously. The two young adults grapple onto each other, finding comfort in each other's embrace.  Mr. Xu pats Y/N;s head as Mrs. Xu rubs her back. Y/N buries her head further into Minghao’s neck, inhaling his scent—woody, warm, and with a touch of jasmine. It fills her senses, grounding her for a moment. Its something only Minghao could do for her. 

“Shhh, Shhh. You’re okay,” Minghao whispers softly into her ear, his face pressing against the side of her head, his nose turned into her own hair. Minghao pulls back, running his hands up and down her arms as he tries to make eye contact, but Y/N keeps her head low, avoiding his gaze. Mrs. Xu reaches her hand up between them and wipes away the tears from Y/N’s face.

Y/N shyly looks at Mrs. Xu. “You’re going to captivate them all.”

Y/N’s eyes flick to Minghao, who nods. “You’re charming. You can get sponsors,” his voice steady and firm. 

Sponsors, Y/N thinks. It could be one way to ensure a longer survival in the arena. Y/N sucks in her cheeks, chewing anxiously at them.

“You’re strong,” Mr. Xu adds, his eyes are warm amid their sadness, “We all believe in you.”

Y/N’s eyes scan the room, landing on her family then her friends. Their sorrowful eyes glimmer with a small sense of hope. It’s easy to get caught up in.

Another knock is heard at the door.

“Fifteen minutes,” the Peacekeeper calls, cold and impersonal,through the door.

Y/N inhales sharply, trembling with anxiety as her chest begins to tighten again. “Can I... can I have a few minutes alone with Minghao?” she stutters. To her surprise, not one snarky remark is heard from her cousins—there goes the chance for a mood lifter.

“Of course, let’s give them a minute,” Aunt Sophia instructs, ushering everyone toward the door. Before leaving, Y/N’s mother pulls her into one last hug and leaves a kiss on her forehead before following the others out. “I love you. Stay strong,” she says.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving Y/N and Minghao alone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Y/N says, squeezing her eyes shut. “The arena does things to people. I won’t come back the same.”

“You’re going to do what you have to do to survive, to come back to us. That’s understandable. I’ll always love you, no matter what.” Minghao’s gaze pierces her soul with its intensity, his voice steady besides the slight tremble to it, one that Y/N isn’t sure she’s ready to face.

“You can’t watch. I don’t want you to watch,” Y/N says seriously. “I don’t want to fight about this.” Her voice starts to crack. “I just… I don’t know what I’ll have to do, or what I may turn into, but I don’t want you to see the worst of me.”

Minghao gently moves a piece of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. “If you wish for me not to watch, I can respect that. The second you’re in the arena, I’ll turn off the broadcasts. I won’t even listen. But I need you to know I will love you no matter what. No matter how you come back. No matter what you do. And no matter what anyone says about you.”

Minghao’s hands cup the sides of Y/N’s face as he pulls her in for a kiss. His plush soft lips press against hers, all his love and yearning pouring into it, all the things they have to leave unsaid. Tears form in both of their eyes.

Minghao pulls back and smiles softly. “I got you something.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” Y/N says, her voice cracking, as the first real big smile from the last almost hour stretches across her face.

Minghao pulls out a necklace with a pendant. Inside the glass is a blue flower, a smaller version than the one he gifted her earlier. The flower looks a smooth blue aster but with a deep, rich blue hue.

“It’s District 12’s representative flower,” Minghao says. “It’s supposed to represent faith, love, and trust. But for our district, it stands for hard work and resilience. My father started planting them a few years ago, and I remember how much you loved them when I first brought you over. I had the blacksmith at the Hob put it together.”

Y/N rubs her thumb over the smooth glass. “It’s beautiful.”

Minghao smiles softly. “Turn around.”

Y/N turns, and Minghao sweeps her hair over her shoulder, bringing the delicate chain around her neck. “You shouldn’t have a problem bringing it into the arena. Tributes are allowed a token from their district.”

Minghao lets go of the chain as the clasp closes on the necklace around her neck. Y/N turns to face him. “Thank you.”

“It was supposed to be a gift to celebrate our freedom from the Reaping and our moving to the next step in our life,” Minghao explains, his eyes turning red from the tears he’s keeping at bay. 

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N repeats, her voice thick with emotion. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. Minghao leans in, kissing the corner of her left eye, then her right, before pressing a final kiss on her lips and resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you more,” Y/N replies.

“Doubt that,” he teases.

Y/N lets out a shaky laugh at his stubbornness.

“Time to go,” the Peacekeeper barges in and reaches for Y/N’s arm again, but Minghao pulls her back.

“She can walk herself,” he says sternly, his eyes softening as he looks at Y/N. “You’ll be okay.”

Y/N can now see the tears he’s been holding back. “I love you,” he says quietly.

Y/N walks out the door, the Peacekeeper following behind her. She looks back at Minghao, who stands still, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his tears. She mouths, “I love you.”

Minghao does his best to smile, but Y/N can see the cracks in his facade. As she walks down the hall, he collapses, squatting down and crying into his arms that lay crossed over his knees.

As Y/N walks forward, the sharp clicking of Effie’s heels echoes closer and closer as she walks up towards the hall catching up beside Y/N and the Peacekeeper. “Lovely! Now we can get a move on. I assume the farewells were in good order?” she says cheerfully, her voice a stark contrast to the heavy air around them.

Y/N glances at Effie, her gaze lingering on the woman’s perfectly styled appearance. Up close, the facade of brightness seemed almost forced, but the girl new it was genuine. The gleaming stupor those in the Capital lived in, oh how their lives differed. As Y/N looked at Effie she noticed the cracks in her polished exterior, the makeup Effie wore was thick and caked on, the difference between her and a porcelain doll was the doll’s shiny epoxy. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replies with lackluster.

Before Effie can push for a more enthusiastic response, a disruption echoes from the room Jaehyun had been placed in. Y/N freezes, her heart tightening as she watches the boy. He’s being dragged out, kicking and screaming as two Peacekeepers struggle to keep a hold on him. A third Peacekeeper stands by, ready to grab Jaehyun's legs. THe boys tear-streaked face is full of raw, unrestrained panic.

“No!” Jaehyun cries out, his voice breaking as his eyes desperately tries to reach for his parents, who are fading from view the further they manage to pull him away and towards Effie and Y/N.

The third Peacekeeper slams the door shut, cutting off Jaehyun from his parents. The sound of the door clicking closed echoes in the hallway, leaving only the sounds of Jaehyun’s sobs.

“Oh boy, what bad manners,” Effie comments casually, a look of irritation on her face as if the scene before them were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “So sad. Well, we'll have to work on that,” she exasperates. 

Y/N glares at Effie, disgust washing over her. How could this woman stand there, so detached, as if the agony of a child being torn from his parents was nothing more than a mere inconvenience? Y/N clenches her fists at her sides.

"Well, come along now. We’ve got a train to catch," Effie says with a flip of her hand, turning sharply and striding ahead.

Y/N’s is pushed forward by one of the Peacekeepers, who gives her a rough shove, urging her to move quicker.

Effie gives a half attempt to glance back as she calls over her shoulder, her voice almost sing-song as she addresses Jaehyun, still struggling in the Peacekeepers’ grip. “I’d stop with the crying and flailing if I were you. Otherwise, we’ll have to sedate you, and I’d rather you enjoy our lovely ride to the Capitol. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Effie's words hang in the air, hearing this Jaehyun stops his kicking. The Peacekeepers, unsure of his next move, continue to escort him alongside Y/N, while keeping a steel hold on the boy's arms. That's definitely going to bruise, Y/N thinks to herself. 

Y/N looks at him, her heart breaking as she watches the boy’s features harden. His doe eyes brimming with tears that spill over are filled by a simmering anger,As they continue towards the train platform, the Justice Building doors swing open, revealing the cold, imposing locomotive waiting for them. Jaehyun continues to silently cry, as they march in silence towards their inevitable fate.

To be Continued…

(3,855 words)

Authors note: Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know you're thoughts!

As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!Minghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 2,765

Chapter 2

Notes: A bit of a shorter chapter here again. I wanted to get another chapter out without it being to long since the previous one! I've been sorta busy but am activity writing through this in my head. I also finished the new book! Broke my heart, but was worth it. Now I'm considering parts in this story that may break my heart and the readers (I promise it won't be too bad, we do have a lot of story to get through lol, rest assured rest assured). Anyways, happy reading!!

Chapter 3: The Countdown Begins

Stepping into the Capitol-bound train, Y/N and Jaehyun take in the interior. Its design is unlike anything either of them has ever seen. Every little part of it is intricate, expensive.  An almost reflective wallpaper lines the walls of the living-room-like space that Effie ushers them into. The furniture matches the patterns on the walls, it looks new, a pristine state of being seemingly untouched. To the right of the sitting area, towards the next boxcar, is a long mahogany table. 

Hors d’oeuvres and trays of sweets are lined up on the table, just waiting to be eaten. However, despite the tempting spread, there's something unsettling about food left out so casually. It feels less like something meant to be eaten, and more like a display—not there to be enjoyed, but only to be looked at. The quantity of food alone seems excessive, far more than most families in District 12 could hope to have for two weeks. For a moment, Y/N wonders if the food is even real, from where she stands it almost looks glazed over in a wax. Across from the table, to the left, there’s another table filled with insulated canisters—refreshments, Y/N assumes. All for them. For their glorious sacrifice for the Capitol. But Y/N and Jaehyun both know the truth: The Capitol will dress everything up in shiny wrapping paper to make the tributes feel comfortable, to show them things they've never been able to afford back home, to create a false sense of gratitude, just so they won’t cause trouble in their final moments before being shoved into the arena to butcher each other in the name of a “better cause.”

Jaehyun’s stomach rumbles as he too looks at the spread set out for them. The two move further into the cart, taking a seat in the plush armchairs.

“Isn't it just wonderful?” Effie starts, her voice chipper as ever. “We want to make sure you have the most comfortable ride on our way to the Capitol. You won’t even feel a thing once the train starts. While our time together is short, we want you to enjoy this opportunity to the fullest.”

Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at Effie's choice of words. “Opportunity” is certainly one way to look at it.

“Feel free to help yourselves to any of the hors d’oeuvres on the table and drinks in the dispensers. If anything isn’t to your liking, our chefs will cook you up something new.”

Y/N and Jaehyun don’t respond. How could they even find the motivation to eat? Their stomachs twist in anxiety about the upcoming days, grief already sinking in the pit of their stomachs at the thought of their families—of the morning they know they’ll have to endure. But must they eat? To conserve and store as much energy as they can for their time in the arena? Too much to think about, too much to consider, too little time. 

A lack of conversation comes from the two tributes as Effie stands before them. “Well, I’m going to go find Haymitch. He’s probably in the bar car by now,” Effie says, with disapproval lining her tone. The mannequin of a woman walks through the connecting door  behind the armchair in front of Y/N and Jaehyun in search of their sole mentor.

As the door closes behind Effie, Jaehyun and Y/N are left alone in the room. From what Y/N can assume however is that there are Peacekeepers stationed behind each door and camera’s watching the two tributes in every room. A false sense of security, or a chance of escape. Aside from Y/N, the aftershocks of crying can still be heard with Jaehyun's who still rattles with sniffs and hiccups every few seconds.

Y/N turns to him. “I’m Y/N,” she says, trying to break the ice.

“Jaehyun,” he replies, wiping tear tracks from his cheeks, trying to recollect some of his pride. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Jaehyun,” Y/N says softly. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in this predicament.”

“You are too,” he replies with a jab, eyes darting to meet hers with a flicker of contempt.

Y/N quirks a lopsided smile, her lips barely curving. “Well, there’s not much we can do about it now. And I am sorry you're stuck here as well.”

Jaehyun doesn’t move to look at her. Y/N tries again. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Jaehyun replies. “You?” he asks.

“Eighteen,” Y/N says, “This was supposed to be my last reaping.” She exhales. “Not so lucky, I guess,” she shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, his tone softer now.

“What are you going to do?” Y/N says, a small bit of acceptance for the reality of their situation. 

There's a beat of silence between them. Y/N pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun starts again, his voice quieter. Y/N looks up at him, her head resting on her knees. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I figured,” Y/N says. “I don’t blame you for being cold or angry. It’s a lot to process. They also weren’t the nicest to you during your send-off.”

“You saw that?” Jaehyun asks, his already barely collected pride bruised.

“Kinda hard to miss,” Y/N responds. “But I would've acted the same way if I were your age. Probably would’ve bitten someone, too.”

Jaehyun cracks a small smile.

“I’d like to be allies, if you’d want to be as well,” Y/N says kindly. 

“That sounds good,” Jaehyun agrees.

Y/N uncurls her right arm from her grasp on her legs and sits up straighter as she extends her hand to him. Jaehyun takes it, their hands meeting halfway between the two armchairs, and shakes firmly.

“Allies,” Jaehyun says, with a slight grin.

“Allies,” Y/N echoes, smiling back.

Just as their hands detach, Haymitch stumbles into the car, Effie trailing behind him, looking exasperated. Even though he’s dressed in what Y/N assumes is expensive silk from the Capitol, the older man’s hair has fallen out of whatever shape it was combed up into earlier that morning. Clutched in Haymitch’s left hand tall glass, its shimmering blue contents swirling side to side as he makes his way towards the armchairs. 

“Congratulations,” Haymitch slurs, as he flops into an armchair in front of them.

Y/N slides her feet back onto the ground of the cart and fixes her poorly fit dress over the legs, it would be best to present herself as best as she can. Her mother always did tell her that first impressions mattered. And the most important first impressions would be coming in the next few days. She needed sponsors and favorship to have any chance of getting out of that arena.

Effie stands beside Haymitch’s chair. “This is Y/N L/N and Myung Jaehyun,” she says, gesturing toward each of them, informing Haymitch of his tributes for the year.

“Excuse my lack of excitement,” Haymitch drawls, his tone bored, as he tips his glass in a halfhearted gesture toward them. “Pleasure to meet you,” he says, though it’s clear to both Jaehyun and Y/N his lack of engagement.

Y/N and Jaehyun exchange wary glances. Y/N’s mind races: I knew Haymitch would be hard to deal with, but I didn’t expect him to be this inebriated. She can’t say she blames him, though. District 12 never gets winners, and Haymitch has probably been guiding children to their deaths for the past twenty-ish years. If she remembers correctly, he won the last Quarter Quell? If I were in his shoes, I’d probably drink myself into a coma, too. Still, it would be nice if he could at least be coherent. Hopefully, he’ll sober up enough to offer some useful advice before they’re shoved into those tubes that will lift them into the ring. 

“Well, Haymitch will be your point of access for all tips and tricks for once you’re in the arena,” Effie says, trying to push the conversation along.

“Where do we start?” Jaehyun asks, his voice serious.

Haymitch flicks some of his hair out of his face as he takes another sip from his glass. “With staying alive,” he says, gruffly.

“No shit,” Jaehyun deadpans.

“Language!” Effie scolds, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You won’t be getting any sponsors with a mouth like that,” she reprimands.

“How do we get sponsors, then?” Y/N asks politely.

“Be likable,” Haymitch replies, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“What type of likable?” Y/N presses.

“Ladylike,” Effie interjects, her tone making it clear she doesn’t want to entertain any “rebels” or questions.

“Do we have any idea what type of arena we’ll be facing this year?” Y/N tries again, determined to get some type of real answer.

“So many questions, so early in the day” Haymitch mutters. He hiccups. “Tell you what, I’m going to finish this drink, have another one, and then probably retire for the night. Tomorrow, during breakfast, maybe I will find myself inclined to scrounge up some advice that might keep you two alive past day one.”

Haymitch struggles to stand, clearly too drunk to be of any real help to himself or the two districts.

“How considerate of you,” Y/N says, her tone dripping with false sincerity.

Haymitch either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, as he stumbles toward the door.

“He’ll warm up,” Effie says with a forced smile. “Why don’t I show you to your quarters for the night?” she claps. 

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“And here you are!” Effie’s voice rings out from the doorway of Y/N’s room for the night. The bed is enormous, easily the size of what would be considered a king-sized bed—far larger than Y/N’s bed back home if it were to be combined with her cousin’s. A dozen plush pillows line the top, resting against the headboard. Its sheets are silken, much like the shirt Haymitch wore courtesy of the Captia, and the same shade of blue as the rest of the train’s décor.

“Make yourself at home,” Effie continues, a wide smile that felt more genuine then any of the others she had given Y/N so far, “I’ll come knock when it’s time for dinner.”

Y/N nods, her voice barely a whisper, “Thank you, Effie.”

Effie gives a quick nod and steps away, heading down the train car toward a destination Y/N has no clue or real care about. Hopefully, she’s going to sober Haymitch up before tomorrow, Y/N thinks, though she has little faith that will be the actual result of Effie’s departure.

As the door slides shut, Y/N is left alone standing in the center of the room. It's quiet. Quieter than Y/N ever thought to be possible. The only time she’s felt such secure quiet was when Minghao and her would be laid out in the grass of his backyard watching the stars, his heartbeat soothing beneath her ear. The quiet of this room is too much, wrong. The feeling started to feel sickening as it crawled down Y/N’s throat. 

Got to move, she coaches herself.  Forcing her feet to take a step furthering into the room Y/N explores the room eyes roaming surface to surface. Across from the bed, mounted on the wall, is a large inset TV. The only channels available being nothing but the Capitol News and reruns of past Hunger Games. Connected to the room is a bathroom, with stark white tiles and a large walk-in shower. Then, next to the bed is a nightstand with a window above it. 

Y/N steps closer to the nightstand, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her dress looks just as worn and tired as she feels. She opens one of the drawers, finding a pair of pajamas. The fabric feels almost buttery as she rubs it between her fingers—A fabric set like this would take a year, or more, worth of trades to exchange in the Capital store if the Peacekeeper was kind that week. Y/N sets the pajamas on the bed and opens another drawer, where she finds a brush and a hair tie. How thoughtful, she thinks sarcastically. 

Leaving the drawer open, Y/N turns her head toward the medium-sized window. The glass is unusually thick, a stark reminder that there’s no escaping this journey. She sits down on the bed, sinking slightly into the mattress. Y/N’s head falls back as she closes her eyes, trying to keep the rising panic attack at bay. A shower sounds nice, she thinks as she opens her eyes and looks toward the bathroom. 

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Y/N stands in the shower, her clothes discarded and folded neatly on the sink counter. She stares at the digital pad on the wall, brows furrowed in confusion. Tentatively, she taps it with her finger. The screen flickers to life, displaying a myriad of buttons. They’re labeled with different words that Y/N can only assume refer to various water patterns. 

She hesitates for a moment before selecting the one labeled ‘rain’. Seems like the least dangerous option, she reasons tapping the button.

The water begins to fall from the rectangular shower head in soft, soothing streams, like rain. Y/N reaches her hand into the cascade to test its temperature. It’s warm, far warmer than she expected. She looks back at the pad and an arrow pointing up and an arrow pointing down. She taps the up-facing arrow twice, and after a moment steam starts to grab onto the glass paneling. 

Y/N reaches back into the falling water once more and is met with the perfect temperature of hot. A temperature she could never fully experience at home. Even if she wanted to, it would mean getting out of the tub and getting more water out of the well which should then have to boil, and that would most likely be followed by getting scolded for bathing to long before anyone got a chance at the lukewarm water. Hot water is a luxury that only Townies enjoy in District 12. 

She steps fully under the stream, letting the warm water beat into her sore muscles, the steam thickening around her and chokes out her ever impending thoughts. For a moment, she lets herself relax. After a few minutes, the water still running hot, Y/N looks back at the digital pad and notices a lavender button, likely for shampoo or body wash. As she clicks it the water that falls on her begins to fall sudsey. Y/N lathers the thicker liquid into her skin, marveling as it leaves her skin almost polished looking as it washes away. Y/N looks back at the pad and locates the shampoo and conditioner. 

As Y/N finally feels enough tension has left her she turns off the shower. Stepping out from the glass enclosure, Y/N grabs a large, white towel that is hung up on a rod by the shower. It also feels warm to the touch as she wraps it around her body. Y/N takes note at how stark white the towel is, it must have been never used, unlike her towel at home that had a solid three tears in it. Or maybe was a special towel they saved for tributes, being bleached every year then left behind for the next kid being escorted to their death because giving a new towel would be too generous, to much waste for someone about to die. Y/N shakes the thought from her head as she dries off and slips into the pajamas left on the bed. Y/N re-situates her hair and ties it up using the singular hair tie left to her in from the nightstand, placing the worn one she brought from home around her wrist. 

Y/N sinks down onto her side on the bed, the soft sheets unfamiliar against her skin. She almost fears she’ll slip off the silken bed. As Y/N lies there she allows for her tears to slip from her eyes. Minghao… she thinks, her chest tightening. How I wish I was back home with you right now. We're supposed to be at the lake watching the stars. We’re supposed to grow old together, to choose us over having a family, because how cruel would it be to send our own children to the Reaping every year? How am I supposed to make it through this without you reassuring me everything’s all right. A sob tries  to escape her, but Y/N holds it in, pulling the pendant on her necklace given to her by Minghao up to her lips. The cool glass and metal soothes her, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like he's there aside her whispering sweet nothings into her ear. 

To be Continued…

(2,765 words)

Authors note: Slow building here, but I'm that you guys like that.