With thanks to Glassgift for your review of the last chapter. :)
"And so, ladies and gentlemen and all, this has been Caesar Flickerman, and these have been your new tributes!"
The small, low-lit bar was spread with strips of deep blue lights. Here and there they were punctuated with a bottle, a glass- something garish blue and alcoholic in one, something pale lilac and spicy in another. Light refracted from the strips of lights from glasses and bottles, shining dully on the faces of rapt people that turned into jubilant people.
The bar erupted in cheers, the patrons raising their drinks to the screen. The low level of murmurs and theories now erupted in full force- the strange events with Emma in District 4, the volunteer for District 8, Cesal- the running boy in District 6, Quint.
Quint. Alec's mouth was dry. He could not look at the television, not anymore.
He had seen that boy. He had given credit coins to that boy. To Quint.
Quint Barkwater.
He was so thin. He still was. Alec could not believe he had been so close to the boy that was to go to the Games, go to-
Go to his death.
Alec suddenly felt his stomach turn unpleasantly. He shot a glance at his drink- it wasn't soma, so he had no idea why he felt like-
Alec went pale.
"Hi, Alec, can I get a-" Someone said behind him, but Alec was already gone, spinning on his neat work shoes and sprinting away, blood-red tails of his tuxedo chasing him behind.
He threw up heavily in one of the soma rooms kept for such an activity. The marble basins smelt thickly of bleach, cloying and clinical. The scent attacked his nostrils, the strips of light above and below throwing his face's profile into a cacophony of light and shadow.
Quint had tried to run and now he was going to die.
And he had watched.
And done nothing.
He wiped his mouth, feeling no better now than before. He turned, and Ganymede stood in the doorframe, concern clear on his face.
"Alec, are you okay?"
He could not find words to speak of the suffering he had witnessed, and he felt inadequate to speak of it at all, to put the magnitude of his thoughts into coherent expression.
He had to lie. He couldn't do anything else, not right now. His returning smile was wan as he walked, shaking, to Ganymede.
"Fine, probably just something I ate. Don't worry."
Alec silently bemoaned in the next moment that his boyfriend was so attentive, as Ganymede took Alec by the shoulders and looked him over.
"You look pale, Alec, god, are you sure you're fine? Look, if you're really bad we can get you to a hospital-"
"-No, no, I-" Alec looked up at Ganymede, backing away from his grasp. He shook his head insistently. "-Look, I'm- I- He-"
Ganymede's head tilted minutely, realisation moving through his features like a pebble disturbing a lake. "You're not ill, are you?"
Alec felt defeated. "Ganymede, I promise, I'll tell you what's going on. But not now. Not right now. At home."
He did not know why, but he did not want prying eyes and ears near them. It was, probably, trivial matter, he knew that. But it felt like more. Seeing Quint there, it felt like much more. His skin prickled in fear.
"Okay," Ganymede said, clearly trying to permit Alec space when he was this visibly distressed. "But if this is an ex-boyfriend thing, I can kick him out our bar right now. I'm strong."
Alec couldn't help but laugh weakly at that, accepting the arm that draped over his shoulder as they walked out. "You fell over trying to get a bug out of the apartment."
"Yeah, but I squashed the bug."
Alec smiled, but his eyes remained dull and glassy.
Quint had run, and for the first time in his life Alec wanted to do the same.
He wouldn't tell Ganymede everything. Not the part about speaking to Quint. He edited away a run of mainly truthful events to tell his boyfriend- ones that seemed less painful, less frightning.
He did not know why, but he was afraid to admit the experience in whole. He did not know why, but the concept of speaking about it at all scared him beyond belief. Especially around others. He was afraid to admit it even to his partner.
He was, perhaps, afraid to admit to himself that he had seen a District member, a tribute, a child- and had seen himself reflected in the stark, impassionate, /raw humanity of the boy's eyes.
Thank you for reading, as ever. :)