Here, enjoy this chapter that has absolutely nothing to do with Gus!
Trigger Warning: PTSD, mentions of victor prostitution.
Manel
I look down at my right hip. A few hours ago, the skin there was completely clear and flawless, like I'd just stepped out of the Remake Centre. Now there's an arrow inked into my skin. The redness from around the black lines is already fading from where Ganymede, the tattoo artist, sprayed some kind of healing liquid on it. I'm drinking in the sight of it, of this new, unfamiliar thing that is now a permanent part of my body.
I like that feeling.
With the tributes currently in training, the mentors are free to do whatever they want in the Capitol. Some mentors use this time to do games things like talk strategy with the mentors of their tributes' allies or try to win over potential sponsors. Some mentors just take a break from the games. I knew that Fawkes would need to take breaks so we planned some fun activities to do in the Capitol a week or so before the reaping.
I also knew that I needed to get a tattoo as soon as possible.
President Snow owned my body for six years. He never would have allowed me to get a tattoo. My skin always had to be perfect for my clients. Now my body is all mine. Snow let me go when Fawkes won the Quell. I can do whatever I want with my body.
The problem is that it's easy to forget that when I'm back in the Capitol. This city had its claws sunk into me for six years.
The first woman I was ever sold to gloated to me. She told me she knew every inch of my body. There was nothing I could do about it, no way I could undo it. She would have every inch of my body in her head until the day she died.
And she was only the first…
There are countless people in this city who could walk up to me on the street and remind me that I once belonged to them. Just the thought of running into one of my old clients - one of my old abusers - made me want to spend the entire games shut up indoors, hiding from them. But Fawkes told me I shouldn't have to live in fear. We've been coming up with strategies to make me a little braver when I walk around the Capitol. One of them was to get a tattoo, to change a few inches of my body and reclaim them from the Capitol.
Now I have an arrow tattooed on my right hip, a reminder of the weapon I used to survive the arena, to slay all the monsters. I can control exactly who gets to see it. My abusers can claim they know everything about me but they will never know about my tattoo. It's a permanent line dividing my past and my present.
Satisfied with my new tattoo, I pull the right side of my trousers up to hide it. The hardest part of all this was exposing a section of my skin to a Capitolite and letting him touch me. I know that Ganymede didn't mean me any harm, he was just doing his job, but I hated the feel of the cold needle scratching into the skin of my hip. I probably would've got lost in bad memories if I didn't have Fawkes holding my hand, whispering comforting words in my ear.
Now I get up from the chair and stand beside Fawkes. He's looking at a wall covered in tattoo designs.
"Would you like a tattoo, Mr Chau?" Ganymede asks. He's hard to read - his eyes are completely black, either through dye or coloured contacts. I can tell he senses an opportunity, though. I've made it clear that my tattoo is to remain a secret and I agreed to pay extra to ensure that. I know that Ganymede would love to have a victor publicly wearing one of his tattoos, promoting his business.
"They all look amazing," Fawkes says. "I'd probably get one but I'm really scared of needles."
I know why. The rebels that dragged him away six months ago carved 'TRAITOR' into his back. He still has the scars. Ever since then, Fawkes has been scared of sharp objects. He hasn't even been able to get a haircut because he can't bear the thought of a stranger standing behind him with a pair of scissors.
"There's one I really like, though," Fawkes says. I can sense him wavering.
"Which one?" Ganymede asks.
"Taurus," Fawkes says, pointing at a picture of a constellation of stars with the outline of a bull.
I can tell straight away why he likes it. We talked about stars the night we met. Fawkes had never seen them before. He'd grown up in the big city, where the stars were hidden by pollution. I promised him I'd take him to District 10 and show him the stars. I kept that promise.
As for why he chose Taurus over all the other constellation tattoos, it must be because the bull, more than any other animal, is a symbol of District 10. The district he's been trying to make his home for the last year. The district he would do anything for, just for their acceptance.
"If you want your star sign, Mr Chau, it's Cancer," Ganymede says, gesturing to the crab constellation.
"What's a star sign," I ask.
"It's this thing that pops up sometimes in magazines," Fawkes says. "It's where people try to use the stars that were in the sky when they were born to predict their future. So Ganymede's right, my star sign is Cancer. I don't really want a Cancer tattoo. I'm not really thinking about star signs, it's more about District 10. I want a tattoo that reminds me of home."
"Oh, I see," Ganymede says. "That's a good idea."
There's a sadness that creeps into Fawkes' eyes that soon becomes steely determination.
"Are your walls soundproofed?" he asks.
"Yes," Ganymede says. "Why do you ask?"
"I really want to get that tattoo but I'm worried I'll start screaming and it'll put off future customers and ruin your business. You might need to strap me down as well. I have a very low pain tolerance. I don't want to ruin the tattoo because I squirm too much."
"I can do that," Ganymede says. "Let me just clean up my equipment. You'll need to sign some paperwork."
"Of course," Fawkes says.
As Ganymede starts cleaning his equipment and we go back to reception to sign the paperwork, I turn to Fawkes.
"Are you sure you want this?" I ask. "This wasn't part of the plan. You seem really anxious."
"I really want that tattoo," Fawkes says. "I know it'll be hard getting it, but it'll be worth it when it's done. Like yours, right?"
"Right," I say. I feel like I ought to bring up the fact that I've had almost a year to recover from my trauma, while Fawkes hasn't even had six full months. I'm just not sure how.
Fawkes signs the paperwork that says he consents to getting a tattoo. He's pretty quick - he watched me sign my own form when we first got here. Then we return to Ganymede.
"Alright, Mr Chau," Ganymede says. "You can sit down."
"Please, call me Fawkes," Fawkes says. "I'd find this easier if we were more like friends."
"Okay," Ganymede says. "Where do you want your tattoo?"
"My right arm," Fawkes says. "I don't mind if people see it. In fact, I'd be happy if they did."
For a moment his eyes glitter and he's like his old, confident self again.
"Okay, lean back."
Fawkes leans back in the chair as Ganymede fastens a strap across his shoulders and another one around his right wrist. I stand on the left side of Fawkes' chair and take his free hand.
"Does that feel okay?" Ganymede asks.
Fawkes nods.
Ganymede starts drawing the outline of the tattoo on Fawkes' arm with a special pen. He says it's because he'll get the part with the needle done quicker this way.
"Ganymede," Fawkes says. His grip around my hand tightens. "I just want you to know I really want this tattoo. I might start screaming and begging you to stop but I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to someone else. My mind will just be… somewhere else. Just keep going."
"What if you actually want me to stop?" Ganymede asks.
"Manel will know," Fawkes says. "He knows when I'm… somewhere else. He'll tell you."
I know what Fawkes means by somewhere else. That basement in District 3 where I found him tied up and bleeding. He's willing to give himself a flashback over that tattoo.
"Fawkes," I say, quietly. "Do you really want to do this to yourself? I know you really want that tattoo but… I know you hate going back there."
"I know," Fawkes says. Suddenly, he looks exhausted. "I just… want to control it, when I go back. I think, if I have a tattoo I can look at and think of home, it'll help me fight it."
"Okay," I say.
"I'm ready," Fawkes says.
"Try to hold still," Ganymede says. "It'll be okay, Fawkes. I'll get it done as quick as I can."
Fawkes nods.
But he starts screaming the moment the needle pierces his skin.
I hate the sound of Fawkes' screams. I remember he was screaming from the basement as the rebels tortured him and I was tied to a chair, unable to protect him.
I squeeze his hand, whisper in his ear, try to comfort him the way he comforted me. Nothing works.
It's all I can do not to tell Ganymede to stop. I have to keep telling myself that this is what Fawkes wants. I don't want to be that controlling older boyfriend who forbids Fawkes from doing what he wants.
But what Fawkes wants is destroying him.
Fawkes is always pushing his own boundaries. Before Reaping Day, he kept giving himself flashbacks watching tapes of old games to 'prepare himself for mentoring'. I've always wondered how a guy so careful to respect my boundaries could have such little care for his own. Now I think I know.
I just want to control it… Those words echo in my head. I understand why Fawkes keeps doing these things to himself. He wants to bring his trauma under control, to tame it like some wild beast.
I know that feeling, that need to be in control. Every milestone I've crossed with Fawkes - asking him to kiss me, letting him sleep in my bed, letting him put his hands under my shirt when we make out, letting him see me in my underwear - I crossed because I felt like I was in control of my trauma. I felt like I was ready, like I'd reached that stage where I could move forwards without getting hurt. Nothing compares to that feeling, when you know for sure you're finally strong enough to do something you were once so scared of.
The problem is that Fawkes is moving too fast. I think it's because of where he's from. People from Ten are used to taking things slow. You can't train a horse or raise a prize bull in one day. It takes time. That's what makes it so satisfying when you succeed. Things must be faster in District 3. Fawkes was an apprentice TV repairman. Given how smart he is, I bet he could fix every broken TV he encountered in a matter of minutes. He's not used to running into a problem he can't fix quickly.
I need to find a way to convince Fawkes to slow down and stop destroying himself.
I look over at Ganymede to see how much longer we have left. He's almost finished the constellation. He's drawn all the stars and now he's joining them up. He hasn't even started the bull.
Fawkes starts screaming my name.
"Manel," he begs. "Please, help me! Save me! Please, I love you."
Suddenly, I can't breathe. My boyfriend is in pain and begging me for help and I can't tell if this is Fawkes actually talking to me or if this is part of the flashback. I was the one one who saved him from the rebels in District 3. I was the one who wrapped him up in my jacket and carried him out of the dark.
I'll save him every day for the rest of my life if I have to.
"Hey, Ganymede," I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "Maybe we could take a break before we start the bull."
"Okay," Ganymede says. He finishes the final line connecting two stars and lowers the needle. Fawkes slumps back in the chair, looking drained.
"Do you two want a coffee?" Ganymede asks. He looks rattled. I suppose he must've been shocked by Fawkes having a flashback.
"I don't," I say. "I think Fawkes will take one, though."
I'm very careful when it comes to accepting food and drink from Capitolites. I'm paranoid that I'll be drugged. I'm happy to let Fawkes have a coffee, though. Worst case scenario, Ganymede is a predator who is dumb enough to drug Fawkes when I'm present. In that case, I'll just fight Ganymede off and take Fawkes somewhere safe.
"Okay," Ganymede says. I hear him leave the room but I don't watch him leave. All my attention is on Fawkes. He's pale and trembling, eyes closed.
"Fawkes," I say, stroking my thumb across the palm of his hand. "It's okay, Starbright. I'm here. I've got you."
"Is it over?" He asks. His eyes flutter open.
"No," I say. "The stars are done but he hasn't even started the bull. You can look at it if you want."
Fawkes looks at the tattoo on his forearm. I can see tears in his eyes.
"It's beautiful," he says. "So far…"
"I was thinking," I say. "What if we don't need to do the rest of it? The constellation is complete. You know what it is. You can explain to people that it's Taurus and they'll get it. If you really want the bull, you can get it done next year when you're stronger. But for now, I think we should start small. Sometimes it's best not to go all the way in one go."
"I know," Fawkes says. But I… I thought this was starting small."
"If this was starting small," I ask. "What were you building up to?"
"I… I hate the scars on my back," Fawkes says. "Every time I catch sight of them in the mirror or touch them in the shower, I just… hate myself. I was hoping that, one day, I could get a tattoo on my back to hide them somehow. I knew that I wouldn't just be able to take my shirt off, lie down on a table and let a stranger stick a needle into my back straight away so I thought I'd get a tattoo on my arm first, just to get used to the feeling. But I can't even do that!"
He starts sobbing. Part of me feels like crying too. I know that Fawkes is deeply affected by the scars the rebels left on his back. When he'd first got out of the hospital, he hadn't been able to take his shirt off because he was so scared of his scars. His hands shook so much, he couldn't even undo the buttons. I had to help him undress.
"I know you hate those scars," I say. "I hate them too, because they make you sad. But we've talked about them before. They don't make me love you any less. They don't make you any less beautiful to me. I know they make you feel like you're a traitor but I know you were desperate when you killed Binah and you're not like that with me. I understand why you want to hide your scars. I know it's frustrating not being ready. But I will wait with you and support you until you're ready because I love you."
"I love you, too," Fawkes says.
He leans forward to kiss me but the strap across his shoulders holds him back. I lean in closer so we can kiss. I can feel his breath becoming less ragged. His hands aren't shaking anymore. He's himself again.
We break apart.
"You're right," Fawkes says. "I can get the bull done later. Can you get me out of this chair?"
"Sure," I say. Carefully, I undo the straps holding Fawkes down. I'd probably pull him into a hug but I'm worried I'll touch his newly-tattooed arm and hurt him.
I hear movement behind me and turn around. Ganymede is there with two mugs of coffee. He hands one to Fawkes and keeps one for himself. Fawkes immediately takes a sip and gives a satisfied smile.
"Are you okay, Fawkes?" Ganymede asks. He takes a sip of coffee and runs a hand through his bleached curls. He's definitely shocked. He must've heard all the rumours about Fawkes but never believed that things could get this bad.
"I'm fine," Fawkes says. "You did a great job. And thanks for the coffee. It's delicious."
"What was that?" Ganymede asks.
"A flashback," Fawkes says. "I get them a lot. I usually recover quite quickly I'd Manel's around to comfort me. They won't stop so I'm just… trying to live my life around them, trying not to let them stop me doing what I want."
"They're getting better, though," I add. "They used to be much worse."
"Worse?" Ganymede asks.
"Back in February, I was too scared to leave the house," Fawkes says. "Now I've got a tattoo!"
"Well, that's progress," Ganymede says. He studies Fawkes for a moment like he's trying to understand him. It's a little weird but not in a bad way. When I made my plan for coming to the Capitol and facing all my old demons, I never expected my boyfriend and I to end up in a Capitolite's shop, sipping coffee and talking about what we're going through.
I don't think there's ever been a Capitolite who's ever seen me as human. I've been a pawn, a commodity, a piece of meat, a toy for the elite of the city to play with. Even when I walked in here, I'm not sure Ganymede saw me as human, just a celebrity. He treated me with respect, sure, but that was just because that was the best option for his business.
But something has changed.
I think that's because of Fawkes.
Fawkes talks a lot more than I do. I guess it's because he's a lot more comfortable around strangers than I am, especially Capitolites. He asked Ganymede to call him by his first name. He let himself be vulnerable. That must've broken some kind of ice between us that I'd had no idea was there.
I don't think I've ever seen a Capitolite as human before. I had a good reason not to. Pretty much every Capitolite I'd ever met was part of this city's elite. They were responsible for me being objectified and abused for six years.
But I'd never met one of the little guys. Maybe if I'd come to Ten and only met the super rich ranch owners and mutt breeders who took advantage of vulnerable families, I'd think everyone in Ten was a monster. But District 10 has little guys - ranch-hands and slaughterhouse workers, people like me when I was growing up. They're not so bad. Maybe the little guys of the Capitol - the office workers and small business owners like Ganymede - aren't so bad either. In fact, they're probably not even aware that Snow sells victor's bodies. I bet that Ganymede would be appalled if I told him what Snow did to me. I bet that most Capitolites would.
"Manel, are you okay?" Fawkes asks.
It's only then that I realise that tears are spilling down my face.
"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realised… I used to be really scared of the Capitol. The big city… it's just so overwhelming. But now I'm with you, it feels like a totally different place."
Fawkes' eyes light up. I can tell he knows exactly what I mean. I'm not afraid anymore.
Fawkes and Ganymede both make small talk as they finish their coffees. The conversation moves to that horror film Fawkes shot a tiny role in, which is coming out in October. Fawkes chose acting as his talent but only got the chance to film one small role before the Victory Tour Attack. He really enjoyed it. When he came back, he joked about how he had to play a corpse in one scene and he'd apparently been doing 'three years of method acting' to prepare for it. But, these days, he's so traumatised, I don't know when he'll be ready to start acting again.
"Do you want to carry on with your tattoo?" Ganymede asks, when both the coffee cups are empty.
"I think I'm satisfied with it for now," Fawkes says. "But I'm hoping I'll be back in the Capitol next year. We can get it finished then. I think I'll be feeling a lot better in a year. And then after that… maybe I can have another tattoo somewhere else. I've got something really big planned. Maybe this can be a yearly thing until I'm ready for that."
Ganymede smiles. "I like the sound of that."
Once he's disposed of the two coffee cups and washed his hands, Ganymede cleans the area around Fawkes' tattoo until the pen lines are all gone. Fawkes winces in pain a few times but nothing changes in his eyes. Then Ganymede sprays Fawkes' tattoo with the healing spray and relief floods my boyfriend's face.
We both pay Ganymede for our individual tattoos. This is the first time that Fawkes has bought something since he emptied his bank account and gave all the money to charity a few months ago. The Capitol pays every living victor a large sum of money on Reaping Day. They probably would've paid Fawkes sooner if he'd been in danger of starving but I had more than enough money in my account to support both of us.
Fawkes tries to pay for the coffee as well. Ganymede insists that it's on the house. Fawkes insists on giving him a tip. We leave the shop in high spirits.
And run straight into a wall of paparazzi.
I tense up automatically, overwhelmed by all the shouting and camera flashes. Fawkes takes my hand and I remember how brave he made me feel. I'm not afraid of being photographed with him. I want people to see that we belong together. As long as I'm with Fawkes, even the most sick and depraved people in this city cannot touch me.
This is how it's been from the very beginning, us against the world. The Capitol took my family from me. The rebels took his family from him. Now we're just clinging to each other, hoping that nobody snatches away our new family.
There are peacekeepers on the street, holding the paparazzi back. Fawkes asks one of them,
"Can I talk to one of the journalists, please?"
A few moments later, one of the journalists from the crowd is standing in front of Fawkes and my boyfriend is explaining the meaning of his tattoo.
"Why did it take you so long to get such a small tattoo?" The journalist asks.
I realise, with mounting horror, that we must've been spotted going into the tattoo shop hours ago. I don't want anyone knowing about my secret tattoo and Fawkes' breakdown.
"There are so many beautiful designs to choose from," Fawkes says. "I lost track of time deciding on the perfect one. I might have to come back in the future and get another one done."
He squeezes my hand, so softly, it's barely noticeable. Fawkes is such a good liar. I never thought I'd find that attractive in a man but, since I met Fawkes, I've realised that a good liar was exactly what I needed. Since I live my life in the public eye, I glad I have someone by my side who can lie to everyone else to keep my secrets safe.
Eventually, Fawkes is satisfied with the amount of questions he's answered and declares that we are going to get lunch. Nobody has even asked if I got a tattoo.
"Where are we going to get lunch?" I ask Fawkes.
"Wherever we want," he replies, eyes full of wonder. "We're explorers."
I feel this great sense of satisfaction filling me. I feel like I have a completely new body, a completely new life. I don't have to walk around with this great big wall separating me from everyone anymore. I finally have a chance to explore this city and feel safe.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter that has absolutely nothing to do with Gus! I felt like I had to include this chapter because it was so important to Fawkes and Manel's arcs and it would feel wrong to infodump all the important information from this chapter in the next Manel POV. They both got tattoos! That's pretty important for both their arcs.
In Manel's case, this is a pretty cathartic moment because his new tattoo represents his newfound freedom from the Capitol after six years of being abused. Getting a tattoo has given him more strength so he can cope with being in the Capitol again. Also, meeting Ganymede has made him realise that there are ordinary people in the Capitol who aren't complete monsters, which makes him feel a lot safer. He's in a pretty good place at the moment.
Fawkes, on the other hand, is not in a good place right now. It was probably a bad idea for him to get a tattoo but at least Manel was able to talk him out of going any further. Fawkes had a lot of good reasons to get a tattoo - to remind himself of home, to build himself up to getting a tattoo to cover his scars and to prove his loyalty to Ten so he feels safer living there. He just jumped in a bit too soon. On the bright side, Manel is getting better at understanding Fawkes' trauma and looking after him.
Next chapter, we return to Gus and see how he's doing in training.