To all who are reading my zombie au, the next chapter will be up by the 15th at the latest. I'm in the middle of exams right now. I just really wanted to edit this and get it uploaded in the middle of my procrastination-fest. Enjoy.
It's the smell that hits him first. The scent of the salty ocean air fills his lungs, gasping for more. He's relishing in the scent. Home.
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It brings him back to reaping day. It's never as glamorous in his district as the televisions make it look. Everyone is just as miserable in his district as they are in the lesser districts. He guessed that they just found it easier to pretend. They played pretend a lot here.
He just wanted to swim that day. To go fishing out on his father's boat. To try out that new spear he'd made himself, old driftwood and a sharp arrowhead. He was proud of it. Brittany was going to come with him. They had made plans to swim together, out past the buoys, where the barrier doesn't stop them. She'd found a way to swim under it. She'd told him she'd seen mermaids.
But it was reaping day, and Sam Evans was 16 and in no way was he exempt from this. None of them were.
He remembers the way the air had toyed with him. The wind was perfect, but the water was empty. Everyone was preparing for the reaping. Cooking what could be their children's last meals. Sam's mother prepared the same meal every reaping day, grilled chicken. Chicken was so hard to get here, but somehow his mother got it every reaping day. Not fish, the animal they lived by, but chicken. Sam's stomach was already growling as he stood with the other boys his age, eyes toward the stage.
When Brittany's name was called, everyone could hear the choked sobs of Mrs Pierce. There was no hiding the despair. Sam wondered how they would be editing the sound out for this, what type of music they would overlay. The music of the capital was always strange, nothing like the meaningful fisherman songs he and his father would sing on their boat. Songs of safe journeys and bountiful captures. He knew Brittany would not have a safe journey.
And he was torn out of his thinking by his own name being called. His throat was dry as he reached the stage, his teeth clenched as he tried to remain calm for his family. For the cameras. The smell of the ocean tortured him.
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But here he is now, on a beach surrounded by water and 23 scared kids. This was his element. Thinking fast, he estimates that he could maybe out-live a good number of these tributes.
And out of the corner of his eye he sees him. The boy from district 12, his legs and arms, thick and muscled from working in the mines, but his fingers are thin and soft and made for something sweeter. His cheekbones make him look like something from Sam's fairy tales, an angel. One of the mermaids Brittany had seen.
The boy's eyes are darting nervously at the tide coming in close and fast around his spot.
Sam's throat gets dry like on reaping day, and his heart is pounding anxiously.
There's a countdown now, but he's thinking about 12.
The boy can't swim.
He can't swim.
When 12 jumps off, he'll be a goner.
Sam looks out into the ocean before quickly swiveling his head towards the rest of the beach. Where should he head...
The clock is counting down, and he can't keep his eyes off 12.
Focus Sam, focus.
As it reaches zero and he leaps from his platform, there's a yelp from 12 and before he knows it, Sam finds himself swimming towards him; swimming down after the sinking boy.
Sam swims them both out as far as possible, holding 12's head above the water for as long as he can, before heading back to land. He's sure everyone has run the opposite direction... But just in case, he hitches the unconscious 12 over his back before running deeper into the previously deserted island.
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Sam listens to 12's sobs all night. They're quiet, as if his subconscious knows he has to stay hidden, but still gut wrenching. Sam can hear the despair, can hear the loss. They haunt his dreams.
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When 12 regains consciousness, Sam is cooking fish over the smallest of fires.
"Good morning," Sam whispers nonchalantly, as if 12 was just a good friend.
The other teen just groans, "Have you saved me just so you could have the great pleasure in killing me? By all means, go for it, you blood thirsty savage" his eyes narrow angrily, his dark hair shakes viciously with every passionate word spoken.
Sam just stares for a moment, mouth agape. "12, dude, I'm not going to kill you. Here," Sam offers a cooked fish to the boy, "I made us breakfast."
"My name is Kurt, Samuel" he intones icily, "Which you would have known had you paid any attention during training." He leans closer to Sam and takes the fish before murmuring a small thank you, his eyes softening.
"Kurt, right, sorry." he eyes the lean boy, how well his outfit hid his thick upper arms and legs. Nobody would know just how much this boy was packing. Clever.
"You okay to travel? You were, uh, unconscious most of the night." Sam thinks it a good idea to not mention the crying.
"Travel? T-together?" he sounds nervous, but almost immediately his voice changes, becomes more calculating, "Yes. Of course. I'm fine. How many were killed last night?"
Sam scrunches his nose, mentally trying to count them all. He wasn't sure, to be honest; he was never really great with numbers."9? Maybe more…"
"I suppose we should get going. No doubt the careers have teamed up to take down the strongest first, and that 9 you received will make you a formidable opponent in their eyes," Kurt says briskly as he stands and begins cleaning the small fire Sam had made, hiding any indication that humans had stopped to make camp here.
Sam flushes a dark shade of pink and licks his lips anxiously. "How do you remember that?"
Kurt is telling the truth, of course. They'll be after him soon. But he had shown the game makers his work with a spear, and without a spear in sight, Sam's score is nothing higher than a 1. He wonders what Kurt had shown them, what secret skill this boy was hiding.
Sam searches his own brain for any semblance of a memory concerning Kurt or anyone's scores really. All he remembers is his own and Brittany's 7. The rest weren't his concern at the time. But how did…Why did…
Kurt looks Sam over and shrugs, "It's not every hunger games someone from district 4 gets a 9."
Sam's dry throat tells him there's something Kurt isn't saying, but who can blame him. These are the games.
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As they travel on through the thick island brush, there's silence between them. Kurt maintains a good distance between them, as if he's ready to run off at any moment. Just in case.
The big leaves of the palm trees brush against the tops of their heads. They are slick with blood. Sam has to keep his head down, keep his mind clear. He doesn't want to imagine how that happened, how this much blood managed to spill in one area. He doesn't want to wonder which district lost another child to a gruesome death.
Sam Evans is not a fighter, and this is not his game.
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"Why did you save me?" Kurt whispers to him that night, as the faces of those who have died today appear in the sky. The music is loud, making it impossible for the cameras to catch what the two are saying. Sam realizes Kurt has waited all day for this moment, to ask this question.
He licks his dry, quivering lips before shaking his head, "I don't know."
And it's true.
Kurt gives a terse nod, but Sam can tell he isn't satisfied.
He wonders if he should apologize.
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The game makers have started a storm up. Huge waves are crashing against the shore, bringing in pools of water as far in as the two boys.
Sam eyes Kurt and leads the two to higher ground.
He knows these storms.
The game makers are trying to flood them all out.
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A knife hits the tree trunk between the two boys, barely pricking Sam's ear, thick red blood oozing out.
Kurt reacts quickly, ripping the knife out of the tree, and with absolute precision, hitting the tall, thin, gangly teen from district 8 dead in the forehead. 8 is dead before Sam even has a chance to react to the pain in his ear.
"Wow"
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It's cold that night, the heavy rain and winds beating down on them, harder than ever. Sam watches Kurt shiver underneath his measly covering of leaves.
He shifts as quietly as he possibly can, inching himself closer to the other teen.
"What?" Kurt whispers harshly, his eyes studying Sam's face, wondering his intent.
Sam wraps an awkward arm around Kurt and pulls the boy close to him, pressing against his chest. He can feel Kurt's heartbeat against his own as he wraps the other arm around the boy, covering him completely.
"You're cold"
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Sam can't find any fish. It's as if they've all disappeared.
"The game makers must have realized how easy it is to get food and removed them all," Kurt says bitterly, inspecting a bush of berries.
"Don't eat those, they're healthy for animals but they give people a nasty case of diarrhea," Sam intones as Kurt picks one. "We'll find something else, right?"
Sam remembers watching people starve to death in other games. He would rather take any death over starvation. The expressions on their faces will forever stay in Sam's mind. They looked as if they wished death would come quicker, as they clutched at their growling stomach, clawing at the ground, unable to move.
"We will, Hun. Of course we will," Kurt says absently as he scans the black sky.
Hun.
Sam wonders when Kurt is going to kill him off.
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They find a small cave leading to an enclosed lagoon, but Sam is certain they've poisoned the water in here. The gamemakers wouldn't allow for its existence if it was something that would help them, he knows that for sure. But, it looks safe from the storm, growing stronger as every second passes, this is exactly what they need right now.
Its cold and the Sam can make out the sound of their growling, begging stomachs over the wind and pounding rain. Sam wraps Kurt in his arms once more, chest pressed tightly against chest.
"Why did you save me Sam? When I'm going to die anyway?"
A lick of the lips, and a flicker of confusion crosses Sam's face, "Wh-"
"Someone like you is going to win this, Samuel. Strong, brave, handsome," he cuts off Sam, his words spilling out, fast and angry, "I'm not a fighter. I'm not strong. I'm.. I'm not meant for this game. I would have died the first day if it weren't for you, and I'll be dead soon enough. Why did you save me?" Kurt's voice is cold, bitter, and sad.
Sam stares silently at Kurt for a moment.
"You are worth much more than you think you are"
Sam inches his face closer to Kurt's before planting a small kiss on his lips. Kurt sighs, wrapping a hand around the back of Sam's head, gripping tightly at his blonde locks, and pulled him into a deep kiss.
"Oh."
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They wake up still entwined in each other's arms, and find a capital parachute outside of the cave. Bread from district 12, and the clean cool water from 4.
Sam raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, enticing a smirk from Kurt.
"I'm glad they enjoyed the show"
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Kurt lay between Sam's lap, staring up at the dark angry storm clouds. The whole island is nearly flooded, and Sam is certain there isn't much space between them and the other tributes any longer.
There isn't much time between him and Kurt anymore. He pulls Kurt's face closer to his, kissing the boy. He never knew when it would be the last.
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"How many of us are left?" Kurt whispers one night, the pictures of fallen tributes begin flashing across the sky. It's Brittany from Sam's district, and a dark skinned girl from Kurt's district named Santana. Sam finds himself wondering how they both met their untimely end. His heart pounds and his head throbs as he wonders if there's anything he could have done to help Brittany. He never knew that he could hate something so much. The games, his country. He misses home.
"I think there's 5 of us left." Kurt answers himself quietly.
Sam's stomach lurches. He's surprise he's lived this long, but he's sure he's going to die soon. It's a matter of time.
"Us and three careers?"
"Mmhm"
There's an uneasy silence that follows. They both know what will happen soon; what will happen to them. Sam's stomach lurches as he tries to keep it out of his mind. No. No…
"Sam...if it comes down to the two of us.."
Sam presses a finger against Kurt's lips. No. He will not hear this. He's already fighting back tears. No.
Their lips collide, and Sam lets his tears flow. Sam isn't sure how long they lay there like that, kissing the softest of kisses, both teens crying, but he knows it's the best and sweetest kiss he's ever had. No one else will taste or has ever tasted this sweet. If he ever gets a chance to kiss someone again, he hope's it'll be Kurt. Every time.
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The sword makes a direct hit, and Sam can feel his guts tumbling out. The short, curly haired boy from district 1 looks almost comedic holding the sword nearly twice his size, and if Sam wasn't dying, he's sure he'd have laughed. Kurt cries out in anguish as he sends a knife through the curly haired boy's head, before he rushes over to Sam.
"Hey," Sam chokes out, it's hard to breathe, and he can feel blood trickling out of his mouth, "You won"
And so Kurt has. The tribute from district 1 had disposed of the other careers earlier in the day, confident in his abilities in defeating Sam and Kurt. Nobody can defeat Kurt, Sam knows that. The tribute was a fool.
The rain and wind stops as the words leave Sam's mouth, the game-makers acknowledging that the game is over, making the win a reality.
"Sam."
Kurt stares down at Sam's face. Sam can feel himself get colder. He thinks he's shivering.
"Kurt. I...knew...you'd win"
"No," Kurt chokes out, leaning over Sam, kissing the boys bloody lips one last time. They're still warm.
"Don't die Sam, don't..."
" I have to...for the games..." he coughs, and he thinks he feels his insides fall out of his gaping wound."I love you, Kurt...12. I love you."
"Sam..." Kurt leans to Sam's ear and whispers "I love you"
Sam smiles, his eyes are wet and his cheeks are sticky with tears and blood, "I...know"
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As Kurt Hummel is crowned the winner of the 43rd hunger games, he smiles for the cameras and the people of the Capitol surrounding him. The smell of salt water fills his nose and the memory of Sam burns fresh in his head. The stupid, stupid boy from district 4. The stupid boy who'd given too much to Kurt, and lost it all.