WALT'S POV
Platinum knocks quietly and I say, "Come in!"
There's a pause before he slowly opens the door and silently slips inside, closing it quietly before him. I look over and his eyes go even wider than they were before, a bigger frown spreading across his lips.
"W-Walt?!" he finally asks, voice quivering slightly. "I-I thought… I thought I could trust you…"
"You can!" I tell him, trying to calm him down a bit.
"I thought we were friends, Walt… I thought you were my ally! How could you do this to me!? I've told you how hard it is to sleep with people I didn't even know, but…" he hangs his head down. "Now I know how Nate felt... Betrayed. He felt alone… Like there was nobody left for him. I'm such an idiot!"
I frown at him and say, "Platinum, no worries. I went to the auction but it wasn't for sex. I wanted to save you from it. D-do you want to come into the kitchen and have something to drink?"
His head snaps up, "What!?"
I smile at him. "Sorry. I should've mentioned it before."
"Hell yes you should've!" He runs over and tackle-hugs me, burying his face in my shoulder. "God, that was so rude!" he says, voice still shaking.
I laugh slightly and hug him back, "I'm sorry again. Really."
"Sh, it's okay." When he unburies his face, he's smiling. "And yeah, I'd love a drink."
"Come," I tell him, walking to the kitchen. He follows. I get some beer from the fridge and walk out to where he sits at the table. I open a bottle and hand one to him. "Cheers," I say, and he echoes me.
We both drink and his bright blue-gray eyes smile brightly. They're wonderful.
"So, how are you?" I ask.
"Relieved and pleasantly surprised," he answers, with a nervous laugh. "Where's Jericho?"
"Out with his best friend Mark."
Platinum smiles. "That's nice. I have Paradise at home, babysitting. At her house. She'd set mine on fire."
"Huh."
"You're too good to me, Walt."
"Not true. You just too harsh on yourself."
"You're probably right about this. I'm… I'm sorry… I'm trying to be more positive now that there's a baby at home, but sometimes it can be hard."
"I'm sure you must be heartbroken, missing him."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Don't worry. I'll try to help you with that."
He blinks. "You're a great friend."
"So are you."
"Not really. But thanks."
We drink and make the smallest of all small-talk for a while before it starts to get late.
"You should get ready for bed. I got the bedroom all ready for you."
He gets up and follows me when I lead him there. "This is… A really nice guest room…" he says quietly.
"It's uh, my bedroom," I say.
"No no, I can't sleep in here! Please, you've done so much for me…"
"Go ahead, it's fine. I'll sleep on the couch."
"You could always sleep with me, too. Don't worry, it's alright. I don't mind."
"A-are you sure? I mean, I don't want to feel like I'm invading you or anything."
"Well you're not going to touch my dick in the night, are you?"
"No way. I promise."
"Then it's fine."
"I-if you're sure…"
"I'm sure." He climbs into bed, curls up and waits for me.
"Night," I whisper, climbing into bed and turning out the light.
"Night," he whispers back.
I buy him any time I can, in any auction. I hate that he has to sleep with people. He deserves a break. Sometimes Jericho joins, but other times, it's just the two of us. We drink together often, talking about anything sad and anything happy, and everything in between.
He provides support for me after Jericho's death, something I really need. I help him through whatever he might need me for.
Sometimes, I have things that I want to say, but are out-of-place. So I don't ever say them, no matter what words might be on my lips. It happens more and more around Platinum as he and I grow closer and closer.
One night that we spend together, though, just one, everything gets out of hand. Both of us got drunk and one thing lead to another, and I wake up next to him the next morning.
When my eyes open, I feel strong fingers stroking my hair gently. I remember what happened last night, and start to feel sick with guilt. I finally force my eyes to open and I see him there. His bright orange bangs hang over his eyes. I feel awful.
I close my eyes again and curl up into his side. I notice that he already put clothes on and feel insecure, but keep my face buried anyways, trying to think of what the hell I'm going to say to him.
"I'm so sorry," I finally whisper into his shirt. It's the only thing I can make myself say.
"Sh," he says quietly.
"The point of my buying you wasn't for this."
"I know," he whispers, "But it's alright. I'm sorry, too."
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Sure I do."
He doesn't. But I drop it, anyways.
We sit in silence, him stroking my hair.
"If it helps," I whisper, finally, "I think you're gorgeous."
My eyes open and flicker up to his. Platinum's entire face is red but he smiles. I memorize how his eyes smile, because it's one of my favorite things about him. "Thanks," he says, reaching up and running a hand through his hair, embarrassed, "You're not so bad yourself."
I have to laugh at his nervous habit, but I end up blushing.
There's another long silence. "Do you think I'm changing into them?" I ask quietly. It's my biggest fear.
When Jericho was around, I knew that I was doing everything right. That I was relating to and helping out the Victors instead of harming them. We were never like those nutjobs. I thought I was doing okay. But after this, I barely know what I stand for anymore.
Platinum takes a piece of hair that was hanging in my face in his fingers and says, "Of course not. It was just once."
"Just once means a lot," I mutter quietly.
He frowns down at me and we sit in another silence.
Platinum whispers quietly, "Are they as bad as they were when I was drunk?"
I pause and stare up at him. "What?" I ask.
Platinum takes the blanket from my chest and pulls it down very gently. I watch, and suddenly have an idea what he means. He stops and stares at the red marks on my pale stomach.
"They are," he whispers.
"I'm alright now," I say in a small voice, "I've accepted the deaths." When all I want to say is, I still hate myself.
"Walt-"
"I'm fine." I'm falling apart.
Platinum wraps his arms around me. I hug him back.
After a while, I whisper, "Thank you for being here." You make it all count.
"You're welcome," he says quietly.
There's another long pause and I whisper, "I should get dressed. And you should be on your way back home."
"I won't tell the kids what happened," he says quietly.
I pull on my clothes and whisper, "Good thinking." The kids already hate me, anyways.
I walk him to the door, keeping the perfect smile and posture.
"I'm sorry, again. Really. But I hope you'll still come back." I need you in my life.
He smiles, "I'd love to," and hugs me again.
"See ya," he says with a small smile.
I wave, "Talk to you later." He closes the door and leaves.
Platinum, I love you.
Years later, I decide to buy Platinum's son Dutch.
He enters the house slowly, head hung down and a wad of white cloths in his hands. He finally looks over and I smile at him.
"Hi Dutch." Uncle Walt is here to protect you.
He looks unsure how to react at first. His initial reaction, though, is hurt.
When he speaks, his voice quivers. "My Dad trusted you," he growls, "He trusted you!"
I try not to smile. "Dutch, calm-"
"He really thinks you're worth something! He REALLY LIKES YOU! But Osmium and I turned out to be the smart ones! The ones who really saw you for the Capitolite you are! You're the same as the rest of them! All of them! Making our lives MISERABLE!" he shouts. I just can't help but smile at his ignorance. Now I know for sure that I'm not like them.
There's a silence as he glares at me, hurt. The smile stays pasted on my lips as I finally sit down at the kitchen table. "I don't want to sleep with you, Dutch. Now sit down, have some tea and relax." I hold out a cup to him.
His expression softens immediately as he sits down across from me, putting the cloth on his lap and taking the cup from me. I start the conversation again after a pause, "That's exactly how your father reacted, too."
He looks up, smiling slightly, and whispers, "I'm proud to be like him."
I smile and say, "He's been through a lot." He's the bravest person I know.
"So have I." They've both been through too much.
"I'll never understand the life of a Victor," I sigh, "but I think I can get close."
"How's that?"
"I've heard a lot from your father, and have lived through some of the worst with him." I know what it's like to lose someone you love. "I've seen a lot of it, too, during interviews. The Games change people for the worst." I know what it's like to feel alone. "I've even lost someone I loved very much." I take a sad, deep breath. I know what it's like to feel like it's your fault. "But… I'll never even begin to imagine everything that you and your father have had to endure. Really." But I do know how it feels to hate yourself.
He takes a sip of tea.
"I just…I wish everything wasn't always my fault."
"Dutch, it's not your fault," I whisper. He takes another sip and nods.
I sigh quietly and say, "You really are just like your Dad."
He smiles slightly and nods. I smile back at him.
"What are you holding?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.
The question throws him off a little bit but he says, "Oh, it's one of my Dad's shirts. Usually I hide it and later, when they're asleep and I'm awake, I like to be comforted by it. It's amazing how something so simple can make such an impact, if you're weak, like me."
"You're not weak. You're the opposite of weak!"
He ducks his head, shaking it slightly.
"You're strong." Just like him. I wish you would believe me.
He doesn't agree, but he doesn't disagree.
"Hey, Dutch…" he looks back up. "Can I see your arms? Please?"
He blinks, startled. But, after a pause, he rolls up his sleeves and holds them out to me. He has one scar, going across his left wrist, but no open cuts.
"Wow…" I have to say, I was expecting much worse. I blink, and ask, "Can I see your stomach, then?"
He shrugs and rolls up the bottom of his shirt for me. I sigh of relief. Blank.
"You're stronger than you think," I whisper. He nods slightly but breaks eye-contact.
"Really, you're strong." I'm glad that you're safe. I love you and I'm proud of you.
There's another pause as the clock strikes nine. I take his hand, "Come on, kiddo. There's something you need to see."
"O-Okay…" I lead him to the living room.
I take my lighter out from the drawer and decide that, in honor of our guest, the candles should be lit in a different order tonight.
"Every night, I light a candle for each of them," I tell him.
"Who?" he asks, teal eyes wide.
I put the lighter to the tall purple candle first. "This one's for my brother, Jericho." He nods and I go on, "He committed suicide right before your brother was born. It's where his middle name comes from." The wick ignites, somewhat illuminating the dim room. When I look over, Dutch swallows hard and nods.
I move on to the soft pink candle next. "This one's for my parents." He stands and watches quietly as the candle flickers to life.
Next, my gaze goes to the blood-red candle. His follows mine, and he whispers, "Who's that one for, Uncle Walt?"
I hold the lighter to the wick and whisper back, "Nate McIalwain. Your father's best friend, way back before you were born. I'm sure you've heard about him."
He shrugs and whispers, "I haven't heard a lot. Dad gets so upset when he talks about Nate that we've never really asked."
"Well, Nate ended up committing suicide, if you've heard that. A little bit afterwards, your father tried to do the same."
"Yeah, I heard that part." He stares at Jericho's flickering candle.
I light Nate's candle and whisper, "He went through so much. All because of the Capitol."
"So have I," Dutch whispering, voice catching with tears.
"I know, Dutch…I know," I whisper quietly. I wish I had helped you earlier than this.
He wipes his eyes and whispers, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," I whisper back, rubbing his shoulder, "You're okay." He sniffles and nods, then changes his gaze to the last candle on the altar.
"What's the last one?" he asks quietly.
"I want you to light it, Dutch." Maybe this will help you let go.
"Me? Are you sure? Why?"
"The white one is there for Osmium," I whisper. It hurts me more than almost anything I've had to say.
Dutch's eyes fill with tears that bubble out, but he doesn't break down yet. He takes the lighter from me with shaking hands and holds it over the Osmium candle. When the flame starts to flicker, Dutch sets the lighter down and throws his arms around me. I try to provide support as best as I can. He buries his face in my neck and sobs.
I do everything not to break down. I need to be a sturdy shoulder for him right now, like Platinum was for me, all those years back. Dutch needs someone strong like I did. And this time I'm the one determined to be that person for him.
Dutch sobs into my neck until he exhausts himself. I hug him and provide reassuring whispers when I can. He quiets but keeps his face buried for a little while, then he lets go. As soon as I let go of him, he stumbles to the couch, exhausted.
I take a blanket and wrap it tightly around him.
"Get some sleep," I whisper quietly. I really wish this didn't have to happen to you.
Os's candle is the last to flicker out, and then I turn off the light, until I hear his raw voice. "Uncle Walt?" I turn around and look back, "Hm?"
"I'm sorry I've misjudged you all these years. But… Thanks for loving me anyways."
I smile, "You're welcome." Dutch, I'll always love you.
GERONIMO'S POV
I sit across from Walt Lassiter in his kitchen, picking at a small piece of strawberry shortcake quietly, waiting for our guests. Marlowe Glaiser arrives first, wrapped up in a summer jacket and soaked from head to toe. She looks grouchy, but who could blame her?
I was in charge of conducting some of her post-Games interviews, and had the opportunity to talk to her friends from the orphanage back in District Seven.
"Afternoon, Miss Glaiser," I greet her. She blinks back and forth from Walt to me and growls, "What the hell is going on!?"
Walt and I exchange a smile.
"We thought you needed a break," I hold out a plate to her. She takes it but still looks untrusting. She starts to sit down when suddenly Dutch enters the kitchen. Marlowe squeaks happily, runs over and tackles him, laughing happily into his shoulder.
I glance back over at Walt.
"You know what, Sedwick?" he hums.
"What, Lassiter?"
Walt smiles at me, "We're good people."
I grin back at him, "Yeah, I guess. Definitely not like the others."
He nods, smiling slightly. His gray eyes stay on mine for a long time. There's a pause.
"Your eyes are naturally… Very pretty," he says quietly. "You should go more often without contacts."
I feel the familiar sensation of a blush rushing to my cheeks and the bridge of my nose, like it always does when I get a compliment. Walt laughs and his bright eyes smile at me.
Then he gets up and walks over to help the two Victors to their feet.
"I love you, Uncle Walt!" Dutch says happily, hugging me. Lassiter looks thrilled, grinning and taking a seat back down. The two Victors sit, as well.
"Why did nobody inform me about this?" Marlowe asks, though she's grinning.
"Sorry!" Dutch says, smiling, "I, uh, forgot."
It's not hard to tell that they're holding hands under the table, but today is their day so Walt and I just exchange a smile.
"So, what's Mark up to today?" Walt asks. I provide a small smile, "He's out with some friends. And apparently there's a girl there that he fancies."
Lassiter leans back in his chair. "Ah, young love," he says dreamily.
I smile, thinking about my lovelife when I was younger. I had the biggest crush on Walt, and though I admit that it never really went away, it's definitely a lot less severe. Though my heart was broken by his young love and hopeless attraction to Platinum Krietzer, I've bounced back.
Realizing that my attraction to Walt wasn't as important as I thought it was really helped me to grow as a person. Now, I've realized that I don't have to have a romantic partner to make me happy: that I can be perfectly happy on my own, too. I just let myself enjoy Walt's company, finding that it makes me happier than I ever was when I was head-over-heels in love.
"But you two are an even younger love, Walt says.
"Oh, our love is barely young," Dutch says. "We're both very, uh, mature."
"Yes, but it shouldn't be like that," I say quietly. Walt nods.
"But, you know, we just have to live with it," Marlowe sighs. "We help each other through the rough times and we stay with it for each other, and Nick, and Uncle Platinum, and you." Then the grin comes back across her face.
"I've never seen you smile like this before, Miss Glaiser," I remark.
"It's because every other smile is forced," she says, "But this one is really real."
She grins and I have to smile.
"It's beautiful," Dutch says, kissing her cheek.
"Thanks," she says, bashfully but happily.
Walt and I exchange a smile as he raises a glass. "Cheers to a time when we can all be young again, even though it's only a little. Cheers to friends, and cheers to a double date!" The exclamation shocks me but I have to smile as we all clank glasses.
It sure feels like a date, but I never thought it was. And now it is.
"Let's sit back and let go of everything," Dutch says, "Just throw all our troubles in the water for the limited time that we can."
Marlowe grins and promptly sits in his lap. He hugs her around the stomach and kisses the back of her neck.
"And let's be sure to enjoy it while it lasts," Walt says. He presses his lips to my cheek and I feel a blush creep across my face. We exchange a smile and I forget, just for a split second, that the two young Victors are there.
"We can head to the living room," he invites.
"Make yourself at home," he invites, "Grab a blanket, turn on the TV, whatever you want."
Dutch picks up Marlowe and carries her there, both of them laughing. Walt smiles, holding out a hand to me. I take it and we walk in together.
"We should protect each other," he says, taking a seat. I sit next to him. "Protect each other from crazy fans. And from the President." I frown but nod, "Yeah, that'd be helpful."
"What do you think, then?"
I smile, "Sure."
He smiles at me and takes my arm. He's warm and comfortable. "We'll make it," he says, quietly. "You 'nd I, and Mark, too. And all the Victors. No matter how hard the road gets." He curls up in my lap, pressing his face against my chest. "No matter how hard," he repeats.
"It'll be okay," I whisper, "We'll make it." I hesitate before pressing my lips to the top of his head. He looks up at me and a small smile spreads across his lips.
"Damn right we will. We're us." Then he kisses me on the lips.
