He'd known it, really. Since the beginning he'd known it was bound to end this way, with one of them dying. What he hadn't known was that it would happen like this.
He hadn't liked him when he'd first seen him. Hadn't disliked him, either. Honestly, the redheaded boy had barely flashed on his radar before being completely ignored. He hadn't been a threat back then. A skinny boy with bangs way too long that looked both innocent and fragile. He'd be one of the dead within the first day; there was nothing Mickey needed to worry about. Mickey might actually be the one killing him in those first minutes around the Cornucopia. He intended to take down quite a few of them there.
Mickey was a Career. Born and raised in District 2, he was trained for the Hunger Games since he was little. He'd learned his colors at the same time he'd learned what fruit and vegetables could kill you, was learning martial arts before he was fully potty-trained and holding a knife before he'd learned how to spell his name. His whole life had been preparing for this. It had been the same with all his older brothers and also with his younger sister. They'd been trained since they were toddlers to win the Hunger Games, to be the champion who would bring home not only a big prize, but all the glories that were showered upon the champion. As of yet, none of them had succeeded. Some hadn't even gone to the Hunger Games, other Careers volunteering before they could. The two that did go, Iggy and Joey, didn't make it all the way to the top, although they had been close – Iggy was the 22nd to die, and Joey the 24th. Watching his brothers die through a screen was horrible; seeing all the blood and the violence had been terrifying; knowing that they had failed had been humiliating. None of it had weakened him, though. If anything, it had made him stronger, knowing that he would have to be the one to avenge the family and save their reputation.
This year, they had managed to be a double threat, though. By their father's orders, both Mickey and his sister, Mandy, had volunteered. It had attracted a lot of attention to their family – never before had siblings been on the Hunger Games. They had been regarded as brave, defiant, dangerous. Of course a lot of people had asked them if they would have enough courage and cold-blood to kill each other, to which both of them had replied that yes, they would. Their plan was to stick together and help each other until there was no one left. Then, one of them would have to kill the other. Of course it wouldn't be easy, and it would be an enormous sacrifice, but the one to die would be sure that their sibling was a champion, their family was victorious and their District, along with all of Panem, was proud of them!
So when they announced Ian Gallagher, from District 7, Mickey laughed at the picture on the screen and proceeded to forget all about him. Ian was a scrawny boy from a huge family who had never really wanted to go to the Hunger Games – he'd just have the misfortune of having his name picked during the reaping. It had been there many times more than usual, due to all the times that Ian had asked for tesserae. The odds hadn't been in his favor.
Mickey wouldn't have looked at him twice if Mandy hadn't taken a liking for the boy. He supposed it was a sort of crush, and thought it was stupid, though – upon paying attention – he had to agree the boy was actually good looking after a haircut, a shower and some new, more fitting clothes. Mandy had taken him under his wing, and thought him a few tricks, things that could help him survive a bit longer. Mickey had rolled his eyes at the useless work, but let her. She could be dying soon, might as well let her have a few moments of being a regular teenager.
It has been the right decision to make, for she was dead only a few weeks later, killed by a poisoned arrow straight to the heart shot by a girl from District 12. They'd tried to make an antidote, but it was to no avail. She had died shortly after, her head resting peacefully on Ian's lap while he cried, the sound of the cannon confirming their loss. His face was red and he kept sniffing, trying to breathe while sobs shook his whole body. Mickey had turned his back to them and walked back to the cave that was their shelter for that day. They'd grouped together, the three of them and two others, the girl from District 7 and the boy from District 4. They had died before Mandy. After that, it had been only Mickey and Ian. Mickey and Ian against three more competitors, including the two Careers from District 1. Mickey had pondered ditching Ian and proceeding on his own, but decided against it – even if the boy was an idiot, he had more chances if they stuck together. He'd kill him later, when he needed to. Besides, he had become a lot stronger with the training, and he was skilled with a knife and a crossbow, so not completely useless. He had arrived back at the cave walking slowly, still sniffing, and Mickey hadn't even looked at him. It was hard enough that his sister had been dead, now he had to tolerate the tears of that weak boy. He'd tried not to let it get to him, but then Ian had started talking about Mandy, about how pretty she was, how smart and strong, and how terrible this all was, and Mickey couldn't take it anymore. He'd flung himself at Ian, punching him and pushing him onto the dirty ground of the cave. Ian had barely defended himself, meekly trying to push Mickey off him without hurting him. And then Mickey had caved, emitting a loud howl for his sister, punching the ground and screaming while the tears that he couldn't control anymore poured down his face. Ian had said nothing. He had merely watched as Mickey's agony got the best of him and he finally let go. When his sobs had subsided and all that had been left was his tired body, Ian had hugged him, brought Mickey close to his body and enveloped him with his arms, holding tight, although Mickey's arms were limp by his side. And they'd cried together, and fallen asleep in each other's arms, and, when Mickey had been about to fall asleep, he thought he'd felt Ian kiss his lips, but he had been too tired to be sure and too confused to do anything about it.
He'd woken up feeling terrible, but Ian had renewed energy, talking non-stop and making plans to kill the other three contestants, speaking of fire and poison and tricking, and if Mickey had been in his right state of mind, he would have argued something, but he felt more exhausted than he could remember ever being. So he had done something he would never, never ever, had done if he hadn't been so tired, so sad, so confused: he'd hugged Ian. He'd reached out and hugged Ian firmly, silently thanking him for having his back even when he shouldn't have, when he should have taken the opportunity to kill Mickey, to eliminate another threat, to kill someone who would most likely kill him later. He hadn't, and Mickey was grateful. It was a foreign feeling and it took him a while to understand it. While he was musing about it, Ian had kissed him again, and this time there had been no mistaking his intentions. He'd kissed him sweetly, softly pressing their lips together, testing the waters. Mickey had known that was a pivotal moment, that millions of people would be watching and judging them, but he hadn't cared at all. He'd kissed back, all passion and need, tongues exploring and hands roaming. They'd rolled on the floor, kissing and nipping and pressing against each other. They'd touched each other, seeking for some sort of comfort and relief on these cursed so-called Games, their sighs and moans muffled by the strong rain that had started to fall. Mickey had never let someone touch him like this, and it had been both invigorating and terrifying.
They'd had a bit of an interlude as the rain had fallen relentlessly around them for two days. They'd heard the cannon once during the second day, announcing that they now only had two competitors to kill. They'd barely had anything to eat, however, the food they had stored being not nearly enough, and they had been starving and weak. They'd been hopeful though, and as happy as one could be under such dreadful circumstances. They'd talked, reminisced, planned, kissed and made love, uncaring if there had been people watching or not – they were on the verge of death, and trying to make the most of whatever time they had left.
As soon as the rain stopped they were upon them. Mickey and Ian had collected their few belongings and started to walk down the mountain, but it was only a couple of hours before they'd been attacked. Brad and Nick, both strong and fierce guys from Districts 1 and 3, respectively, came literally running towards them, one carrying maces and the other with a scimitar. Mickey's shoulder had been pretty much crushed, and Ian had gotten a deep cut on his abdomen, but they'd managed to kill the other two – a dagger in the heart and an arrow between the eyes had done the trick.
And so it was only them. And as Mickey had looked at Ian, weakened by his wound and fallen on his feet, vulnerable and dying, he'd known there was only one thing he could do. He'd gripped Ian's hand and told him that it'd be all right, then he'd leaned down and kissed his lips softly, before grabbing his dagger and slashing open his own throat.
Yes, Mickey had always known of them would have to die, but he hadn't expected it would be him, and he definitely hadn't expected he'd be doing it to himself. He hadn't expected he'd be killing himself to give someone else the chance to live. He hadn't expected to fall in love. But he now knew that what had happened between Ian and him during the Games was much deeper and much stronger than the Games ever would be, and that if Ian died and Mickey lived, he wouldn't feel victorious, not in the least bit. So he'd done it, he'd reached the end of the Hunger Games and had the only other person alive bleeding in front of him. And then he'd killed himself so that the other boy would be rescued and keep on living. But he knew it hadn't been for nothing. He'd loved and been loved, and he was giving the world the chance of having a winner who was actually a champion, who was kind-hearted and generous and so, so much better than Mickey could ever be. So had it really been worth it? Yes. Every single minute of it.