Trigger Warning: Trauma

Manel

A squad of peacekeepers escort me and Fawkes to our hotel suite. It's meant to be for our own safety and I can understand why when there are hordes of fans outside, but it feels like I'm being taken to a cell. Something doesn't feel right. Something didn't feel right during the interview but I was so relieved to see Fawkes alive and so nervous in front of the cameras that I ignored it.

We're ushered into the room and the door is locked behind us. I immediately turn to Fawkes.

"Snow told me what he was going to do to you," I ask. "He said he was going to sell my body for the rest of my life and you asked to take my place. Is that true? Were you going to let him do that to protect me?"

Fawkes stares at me with dark, serious eyes. He nods.

"You said you wanted me to do whatever it took to protect you," he says, quietly. "That was what it took."

I can see the sadness in his eyes. He must've been terrified of being sold, I realise. But he agreed to it anyway, because he cares too much.

"I'm sorry," I sob. "I wanted too much from you."

I was overjoyed when I first heard the news that Fawkes was willing to sacrifice his freedom for me. It was the first time in six years that I knew for sure someone wanted to protect me.

But over the two days I'd spent strapped to that hospital bed, I'd realised what would've happened to Fawkes if Snow hadn't changed his mind. I would've been forced to watch the love of my life go through all the abuse I'd suffered, knowing it was because he'd wanted to protect me. I'd be free, but at a price. And I don't know if I'd be strong enough or smart enough to save him…

Maybe I'm just as bad as the Capitol. Maybe I'm using Fawkes. I've been used so much over the last six years that that's all I can do. I don't see Fawkes as a person. I see him as a way out.

I've been afraid for years that the Capitol would destroy my ability to love. Now I know they've done it.

I start crying. Fawkes moves to comfort me but I back away.

"Stop," I say. "You deserve better. I don't… love you."

"I know, Manel," Fawkes says, softly. "I never expected you to love me. We've only been together for a few days."

"When Snow told me you would've sacrificed your freedom to protect me, I was so happy," I blurt out. "I didn't think about you. I was just thinking about me. I'm selfish."

"It's okay," Fawkes says. "Did Snow already tell you that he'd changed his mind, that he wasn't going to sell me?"

I nod.

"Then you got the best of both worlds. You know I would've sacrificed everything for you, that I would do anything to protect you, but you also knew for sure I wasn't going to get hurt. I was worried for two days, Manel. And probably not the entirety of those two days because I was pretty focused on winning the Quell. You shouldn't feel guilty over that."

"I don't deserve your sacrifice," I say. "I'm this empty shell and I can't feel love. They broke me. You should just let me go."

"You're not broken, Manel," Fawkes says. "You're just hurt. And now Snow can't sell you anymore, you are going to get better. We're staying together."

"Because Snow is forcing us to be together?" I ask.

There's a long pause.

"It's complicated," Fawkes says. "Snow wants us to be together because we distract the people from the rebellion, which means we have to act like we're in love when we're in public. If we don't do that, he'll kill your mother. But… he doesn't care what we do in private. We can break up in private and just be friends, or even just acquaintances, behind closed doors, if that's what you want. We have a choice."

"He has cameras," I say. "He's probably watching us right now."

"Good," Fawkes says. "Then he can see me do this."

He raises his middle finger to the empty room. "Fuck off, Coriolanus."

I gasp. I've never heard anyone say anything like that before.

"Fawkes, what are you doing?"

"Telling Coriolanus Snow to fuck off," he replies, calmly. There's that mischievous glint in his eyes. He looks just like the boy I fell for three years ago on that rooftop.

"You'll get yourself killed!"

"No, I won't. I do my job. I entertain the people. I'm too valuable to Snow. I can do whatever I want in private and he won't care. He can't afford to care. So when the doors are closed and the cameras are turned away, we have a choice. I want to stay with you. Because I like you a lot. I've liked you ever since you saw me crying in that elevator and tried to make me feel better."

"What if I only did it to escape the Capitol?" I ask. "To forget about what they were doing to me."

"I don't care. I needed an escape too. I needed to escape my worries about the games. You gave me my escape. Now let me give you yours. Let me look after you. Let me give you the kindness you deserve. Let me help you get better. Maybe we will fall in love, for real. You won't know for sure unless you try."

I look at Fawkes, trying to separate my real feelings for him from the fake ones that I created because I was desperate. His eyes shine with hope behind his glasses.

He gives me hope. That's why I like him.

I open my arms. He steps into my embrace and lets me cry on his shoulder.

"We made it," he whispers, softly. "It's going to be okay."

I cry until I'm no longer overwhelmed. Now I just feel empty inside.

"What do we do now?" I ask.

"Now," Fawkes says. "We have a date at a fancy hotel."

For the first time, I look around the room. Details jump out to attack me. The luxurious four-poster bed with rose petals scattered across the silk sheets. The soft, pink lighting. The heart-shaped box of chocolates on the bedside table. The vases of roses. The bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

"I… I hate it here." I say.

"Why?" Fawkes asks. He seems surprised. It occurs to me that he might find this room beautiful and that makes the sadness inside me grow.

"This is the kind of room where… one of my clients might…"

I break down, thinking of all the clients who took me to fancy hotels. They were usually the richest ones, the ones who could fulfil their power fantasies by buying an expensive victor and an expensive hotel room. The rich ones were the cruelest…

I can't breathe. I can't stop crying. I've tried to forget what happened to me in these Capitol rooms. Sometimes I'd be drunk or drugged, either because my client had spiked my drink or because I'd got myself drunk to numb the pain. But I still have vague memories, this prickling feeling that lingers with like a disease or a monster burrowing under my skin.

"Manel," Fawkes says. "It's going to be okay. They're gone. They can't hurt you anymore. We're just here for tonight. Then we can go home."

I just think about all the symbols of romance scattered around the room, roses and chocolates and champagne. They've all been tainted for me, ruined forever.

"This place… must be so beautiful to you," I say, shakily.

Fawkes shakes his head. "To be honest, it's all a bit clichéd, isn't it? There's more to romance than roses and chocolates. I'd prefer something a bit more unique."

I laugh, weakly.

"Now," Fawkes says. "Are you up for building a five-star luxury pillow-fort with me?"

"That sounds great," I say.

To compensate for my mistake two chapters ago, I decided to give Manel a massive guilt trip. Then one thing led to another and he ended up having major character development. Manel's relationship with Fawkes has been pretty unhealthy up to this point because it was a coping mechanism for Manel (and also Fawkes to a lesser extent). I wasn't sure how to fix it in my first draft so I elected to just have them spend more time together until their relationship… magically fixed itself. But now my earlier mistake has led to Manel taking a step back and realising that his relationship wasn't healthy and now he's starting over. Manel and Fawkes aren't treating each other as coping mechanisms but as people they like and now they have a chance to live together and get to know each other.

Also, one final note: I'm not saying Fawkes was possessed by the ghost of Binah Katayanagi when he gave Snow the middle finger… but I'm also not going to say he wasn't.