.

xv. valediction
✦ ✧ ✦
the action of saying farewell

perry kusuma
eighteen / / district eleven
—

She managed not to cry at first. However, when Ivelle, her estranged sister, is suddenly just a few feet away from her, tears start to roll down her cheeks like a mellow river.

"W-What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice even softer than it usually is. Perry had previously accepted the fact she would never see her family again. They were all thought to be dead, after all — the newspaper said no survivors. Yes, Ivelle moved away, but still… nothing could have prepared Perry for this.

She rocks back and forth on the shoddy wooden stool that's been placed inside the goodbye room, unable to make proper eye contact with her sister. Instead, she focuses on the boarded-up windows and the intricate patterns of the cobwebs in the corners of the wall. A part of her thinks that if she blinks, Ivelle will disappear.

"I'm sorry," she starts, unease building in Perry's stomach, something she hasn't entirely felt since the morning of the wildfire. "I didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I ran away and—"

"You didn't try to look for me?" The words come out harsher than Perry intended.

Ivelle dejectedly nods. "The newspaper said no survivors."

"That's why I didn't try to look for you either."

And how cruel is it that tragedy has now brought them together, the same way it forced them apart? Perry's last reaping was supposed to be six months ago — it's unfair she's eligible for the eighth time.

(This country isn't fair, she reminds herself. That doesn't mean she can't be.)

Perry squints, noticing the tears in Ivelle's eyes. "Please don't cry," she pleads. "Really, I promise you don't have to."

If her sister could go six years without missing her to the point of utter devastation, she can go on for the rest of her life. That is, of course, provided Perry does fall in the Capitol — she doesn't necessarily plan to.

"Do you not have any hope?" Ivelle asks. "Mother and father wouldn't—"

"They wouldn't care."

After all, they never did. Perry and her sisters were always just another responsibility to them, they never told her they were proud of her when she came home from school with perfect grades nor did they even attempt to say that they loved her. The more Perry thinks about it, Novalie and Ivelle were the same: present, but only from a safe distance.

"I think they might've," Ivelle insists. Perry doesn't miss how she says the word 'might.' There's no way of possibly knowing what was ever going on in their minds. "At the very least, they wouldn't want you to die."

"I don't want me to die either." Perry touches her hand beneath her eyes. No more weeping — it could put her at a disadvantage. "I'm going to try; I promise I'm going to try."

It's not like she has another option. She's never been the sort to lay down and admit defeat, and there's no reason to start now that her whole life is on the line. If there's one thing that Perry's learned in the last few years, it's that it doesn't hurt to have a little hope. In fact, having hope is practically mandatory. There's no point in living if you don't have hope that someday, no matter how high the odds are stacked against you, things will change for the better..

"I know you will."

But the thing is, Ivelle doesn't. She hardly made an effort to get to know Perry growing up, nor has she even asked about the most recent part of her life, what she's been up to ever since her world turned upside down. That brings about a new fear in Perry: that she'll die without any living person being able to say they know her.

Previously so silent Perry nearly forgot about his presence, the Peacekeeper standing by the door says, "you have one more minute."

Perry looks over at him and softly waves. "Thank you, sir."

And then she returns her gaze to Ivelle, who still hasn't stopped sobbing. "Is this goodbye then?"

"Why would it be?" Perry shakes her head. "I already told you, I'll do my best to come back."

"You can't guarantee that though."

"Then yes, I guess this very well could be goodbye." She hops off the stool, debating whether or not she wants to pull her sister into a hug. "If it isn't though, can you promise me something?"

"I'll promise you anything," Ivelle says, which Perry still doesn't fully believe.

"If in six months, I return home, can we try to be sisters again? For real this time?" The tears return to Perry's eyes, and for a moment, she lets them.

"Of course."

It's Ivelle who then initiates the hug, wrapping Perry so tightly in her arms that she nearly forgets where she is and what's happening to her. She wipes her tear-stained face on her sister's shoulder, then quickly whispers, "I'm sorry if that ruined your sweater."

"Please, don't apologize. There's no need."

"I love you," Perry says as she pulls away, not sure if she means it or not. Before Ivelle can respond, she remembers one more thing. "Actually, I have another thing to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"My flowers." Perry feels selfish for even bringing them up. "Could you please take care of them until I return? I live near Stamen Orchards. If you ask Mrs. Stamen, she'll tell you where my house is."

"You've always loved your flowers, haven't you?"

A loud buzzer goes off on the Peacekeepers wrist. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to go."

"Of course." Perry nods. "Ivelle, I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"I'll see you."

Perry gives her one last wave, then stands by the Peacekeeper's side. As he leads her out of the room, and presumably toward the train station where she'll be whisked away to the biggest challenge of her whole life, she realizes one thing:

Ivelle never said she loves her back.

But, she doesn't let herself cry about it. After all, she has bigger fish to fry now, more important seeds to plant until they blossom into something beautiful and new.

atlas triste
seventeen / / district thirteen
—

As he sits on a bench in the most obnoxiously fluorescent room they've ever seen, Atlas can only come to one conclusion: he's completely and utterly screwed.

Not the most optimistic verdict, they're well aware, but it's the truth. They're a grade-A twink for shit's sake — they're not built to withstand eight asshats who have spent their whole life training for the opportunity to kill him. Yes, Atlas seemed confident on the stage, gagging the crowd with a death drop, but that won't get him anywhere in a life or death situation.

"It's okay, sweetie," their mom whispers, gently patting them on the back. "You're going to be okay."

Atlas can only look at her with a blank expression and say, "You've got to be kidding me."

He can tell she's trying so hard to have faith in him, but she'd be out of her mind if she actually thought that they stood even a fraction of a chance. At least Ailis' expression doesn't lie — she's accepted that this is the last time she and Atlas will ever see each other, and there are tears running down her face.

"You'll try, right?" She pleads. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't come home."

"Of course I'll try." But Atlas doesn't even believe themself.

"You know, I thought losing your father would be the worst thing that ever happened to me," Mom says, which isn't exactly helpful. "I can't lose you too."

It's been twelve years since Dad died, and it's gotten to a point where Atlas can no longer say he knew the guy. There are so many facets of who he is as a person that Dad never got to know, and they simply have no clue whether or not he'd accept them. Mom says he would though.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Atlas admits, slumping over. "I'm scared shitless, okay? I can try if that would make you feel better, but I reckon that even with six months of training, I won't be nearly as strong as the others. Have you ever seen me even try to lift weights?" Both Mom and Ailis shake their heads. "Yeah, exactly."

"Maybe it's not about being the strongest."

Suddenly, Callie appears at the door, Galin right behind her.

"You guys came!" Atlas enthuses. Secretly, they were a smidge worried that they somehow wouldn't be able to.

"Why wouldn't we?" Galin cocks their head to the side, then rushes toward Atlas and gives him a hug. "You really think we'd abandon your ass like that?"

"I dunno!" As Atlas speaks, Callie ruffles their hair. "I'm just glad you're here — that's all. I mean, what if I never—"

"Bitch, shut the fuck up," Callie cuts him off.

"That's what I've been trying to say." Mom chuckles.

"Right. Sorry for the language, Mrs. Triste." This, at the very least, earns a laugh out of Atlas.

"These are extenuating circumstances, no need to apologize."

"Cool. As I was saying." Callie nods. "Maybe winning the Hunger Games isn't just about who's the strongest or who's the most capable of killing people."

"I'm not killing anybody…" That thought hadn't even crossed Atlas' mind. Damn, they're going to be sick if they think about it too hard.

"The Games are equally about selling yourself."

"Like my body or—"

"She doesn't mean that," Galin clarifies. "Callie is trying to say that you need to market yourself. Show the Capitol what makes you unique. You're not like the usual depressing bitches from Thirteen, you know. You're full of light, despite not seeing the sun for even a second. You don't always take life too seriously."

"Exactly," Callie says. "Atlas, you're the most unique and wonderful person that I've ever met. I see no reason for anybody there to not fall in love with you."

All of that just makes them want to cry, which they do. It's almost cathartic in a way, loud and messy, acknowledging that as much as this sucks, they at least have people who believe in them, people that'll always live in his heart for as long as he's alive.

"What they said." Ailis joins the group hug. "Dude, when you're not cranky from staying up too late or overworking yourself, you're kind of the coolest person in the world."

Atlas looks up to see his mom, still removed from the conversation and still blinking back her tears. "Get in here, Mom!"

Instead, she pulls out a small camera from her pocket and holds it by her eye. She presses down, taking a picture, then waits for it to print out. She walks over to Atlas, puts the photo in his pocket, then wraps her arms around him, even tighter than Ailis and his friends.

"I better not look bad in this," they tease. "You know, crying usually doesn't do good things for your skin."

"I just want you to have it as a keepsake, Attie. A reminder of all that you have waiting for you once you get home."

"I'll try," Atlas says. "I promise, all of you, I'm going to try and find my way home to you. I'll talk to as many people as I can and try to get them on my side. I promise."

"Make sure to not only talk to people and also try and work out," Ailis reminds him. "I know your boney-ass doesn't think you can, but based on what I've heard about Capitol food, it'll be incredibly easy for you to put on weight, and then you can turn that weight into muscle and—"

"I get it, sis." Atlas takes a deep breath, then pulls away from his loved ones. "Guys, I just want you to know how much I love you, and how grateful I am that my life has been touched by your presence."

"Stop getting all sentimental," Callie says. "We're going to see you again in six and a half months. This isn't goodbye — it's see you later."

"Right, yes." Atlas starts to walk toward the door that'll take him to the train, head first into six months that will change anything for better or for worse. "I'll see you later."

And so long as they can let go of their anxiety and pretend to be the bad bitch diva the Capitol expects them to be, maybe they will.

corvina nyx
sixteen / / district eight
—

This fucking blows — there's no other way to put it.

Did Cora mean to cuss out the escort when xe called her name? Probably not, but can she really be blamed for that? This Urethra Franklin bitch had the audacity to tear her away from her perfectly acceptable, albeit occasionally mediocre home life, just so she can fuck off for six months and then die.

That's completely unfair, and yeah Cora recognizes "unfair" is kind of a perfect word to describe her whole existence, but this shit is next level.

She's so pissed off, she doesn't even have it in her to cry when Mom, Anthony, and his stupid kids start to leave the room in the Justice Building after saying goodbye. If it's any consolation, the room is at least really nice by District Eight standards. They probably had it fixed up with a fresh coat of lavender paint and new floors after Cordura won.

"We love you," Anthony whistles while Maverick and Erin are dead silent. "We'll be waiting for you when you get home."

"Yes, yes we will," Mom echoes — at least she's crying. "I love you so much, sweetie."

But of course, as Erin closes the door behind everybody, she whispers, "When Cora dies do you think I'll get her room?"

Honestly, Cora hasn't spent too much time thinking about the possibility that she dies in six months. She's more concerned with, well… having to talk to people. People that are either going to infuriate her until she reaches her wit's end, or get close to her only to abandon her, or worse, kill her..

She glances at the Peacekeeper standing by the door to take her away and asks, "Are you going to put me on the train now?"

"Not yet, no." Gravely, they shake their head. "You actually have one more visitor."

"Who the f—" The door swings open and immediately, tears start streaming down Cora's face. "Jasper, what the hell are you doing here?"

He looks different than he did eleven years ago, though that should be a given. His blonde hair has turned a dark shade of brown, and he has a rough stubble around his jaw. Still, Jasper has the same hazel eyes as Cora does — she'd recognize them anywhere.

"Please, don't cry," he pleads, though his eyes are watering. "I just… I don't even know what to say besides that I'm sorry."

"I don't know how to respond to that," Cora admits. "Where the hell were you?"

Jasper takes a deep breath. "When our parents split, we obviously went our separate ways, and I don't know how things went for you, but based on the fact your dress looks new, I'd guess better than they did for me."

"I've been fine." All things considered, Cora probably has been. "Mom — Elena — got remarried to a guy named Anthony. He has two kids of his own, but they're kind of major assholes. At least he makes good money! Before that, she fostered a kid named Pandora, who just sort of disappeared one day, kind of… kind of like you."

"I didn't want to disappear," Jasper swears. "But Mom — Irene — insisted I never see you and Elena ever again, and she kind of started spiraling. Everything reminded her of Elena and she started doing morphling and getting into trouble and well…"

"She got arrested?"

"Worse. She overdosed and died about five years ago."

Suddenly, Cora's sick to her stomach. "What happened to you after that? Why didn't you try to find Mom and I? Surely she would've taken you in but—"

"I tried," he says, pensively placing his hand underneath his cheek. "Elena said that you demanded all of her attention, and that you wouldn't want to see me again."

Was Cora really that greedy as a pre-teen? Well, to be fair, five years ago was close to around when Pandora left, so Mom could've been preoccupied with that, but actually no, there's no excuse. Jasper is her son, for crying out loud.

Is it bad that Cora still feels guilty, even though she shouldn't?

"Am I supposed to take this personally?" She asks.

"I don't blame you, so no. I did see her a few minutes ago, and she walked past me really fast as if I didn't exist, so there's that."

"Sounds like her." Mom's been so… distanced ever since marrying Anthony. It's like she only cares about him, and not Cora anymore. "Clearly, you're fine now, at least? Right?"

"That's a bit of a stretch."

Cora crosses her arms, her face turning red. "What else happened?"

"I was in a community home for a few years and I was able to get a job, but they threw me out when I turned seventeen, and basically told me to cope. I tried the best I could, but…"

"But what?"

"You don't need to know, Cora. It'll just disappoint you."

"Um, yes I do?" Her brows furrow. "You're my brother, and what if this is the last time I ever see you?"

"Fine." Jasper huffs. "I've been shooting up just like Irene did."

Cora should've seen this coming. Really, it seemed like a miracle that nobody in her immediate circle was affiliated with drugs or crime — that's Eight's bread and butter. She should've known it was too good to be true, and that addiction taints every bloodline in Tattersall without any exceptions.

"Can you stop?" It's a stupid thing to ask, but Cora's never exactly spoken to an addict before, at least not like this.

"I can't." A single tear runs down his face. "I still have my job, but I can't afford a place to live so most nights I just squat in abandoned buildings. When I can't find a place, I'm stuck on the streets, and it's the only thing that keeps me warm. It's turned into a cycle, really. I spend my spare money on morphling so I can't afford to pay rent, but I'm not motivated to do anything if I'm not on morphling."

"That's… that's horrible."

"You can tell me to leave," Jasper says. "You deserve better than a filthy addict for a brother. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"You didn't," Cora swears. "I just… this is a lot for me to take in."

At the very least, it's a sliver of proof that everybody doesn't actually leave her. Maybe it's even something for her to live for. If she won, she'd probably get to move somewhere nice like Cordura, and maybe she'd get to bring Jasper with her. Maybe she'd be able to find Pandora and take her too, and then they could be a little family.

But fucks sake, is this a lot to think about. She needs to take a nap.

claris varsenova
eighteen / / district three
—

Even though there are at least a dozen people in this room with her, Claris can't help but feel even more alone than usual.

This is really real, huh? This is really happening.

She's never seen Three's extravagant administration offices, fancy glass windows and a ginormous table that can probably hold thirty people. There's a giant cake in the center that says "Congratulations, Claris!" or at least it did before people cut slices for themselves. Personally, Claris can't bring herself to have even a tiny bite. She's just so so nervous, and she doesn't even think it's for any particular reason. She's prepared for this day for the past five years, so she really shouldn't be anxious.

It's just a lot for her to take in, especially when she didn't think she'd ever reach eighteen for a long, long time.

"Are you excited?" A boy from one of her classes asks — Claris can't put a name to his face at this very moment. "Six whole months in the Capitol. What do you think you'll get up to?"

"Training, probably," she politely replies. "I'll also get to know my allies and ensure we're strong as a unit before the Games. Maybe even try to get Leda to not hate me for whatever reason they do."

"Yeah, good luck with that." A girl snorts. "I bet there's nobody in their room right now, not even their parents."

Claris doesn't laugh. As rude as Leda may be, she knows what it's like to not have anybody. If they're actually capable of feeling human emotions, maybe they're hurt by this too.

"Look, I'll do my best, okay?"

"I'm sure you will." She looks at Claris long and hard, her bright green eyes staring into her soul, which makes Claris blush a little. How embarrassing that she's completely forgotten this girl's name still. Hypatia? Meridian?

Before she can ponder further, a bell rings, and Reika Matsumoto, Claris' new mentor, stands at the door. "Students, I ask that you leave now," she says, her voice orderly and firm. "Ms. Varsenova's family is going to visit, so either Ms. Inaki or Ms. Pentium are going to escort you to the train station if you wish to wave off her and Mx. Gero as they leave."

Right. Dealing with Father. Claris was so caught up with all her fellow students, she completely neglected the fact that he'd be here too. As her peers file out of the room, Claris takes a deep breath and reminds herself that regardless of if she wins or loses in the Capitol, this is the last time she'll ever have to see him. Maybe that means she can finally stand up to him. Would she really have the courage to do that?

She's not sure, but she does know that winning the Hunger Games will take a lot more than just courage, so this very well could be the start of a brand new her.

As soon as Mx. Matsumoto is far enough down the hallway, Father steps inside the room and slams the door behind him. Peacefully, Claris stands at the head of the table, trying her best not to meet his gaze.

"Daughter," he starts, and the best Claris can give him is a nod. "I just wanted to remind you of a few things before you set off."

"I'm sure you do."

"No need to be rude." He sits down, and gives Claris a stern look, like he's trying to convey that he would hit her if it weren't for the fact that they're in a public setting with cameras. "You just need to remember Claris, what are you to me if you don't come home?"

"Not your daughter." Which honestly, doesn't sound too bad.

"Not my daughter, correct. I don't want to lie to you and say that I believe in you completely, but under certain circumstances, you may have a slight chance. It's just important that you keep to yourself — none of that socializing and helping that you're so fond of. If you bond with people, that lowers your chance of success. You are not there to make friends, Claris. You must keep everybody at an arm's length, or else they will know your weaknesses — which you have plenty of, might I add — and they will use them against you to kill you, okay? I know, you're too soft to be aware of this, but yes, Claris, these people are your enemies, and I expect you to cut them down, even if that messes with your stupid moral compass because you're useless and worthless, not just to me, but to Three and to the rest of the world if you—"

"Would it kill you to just shut the fuck up?" Her loud voice reverberates across the walls, and both her and Father make a shocked expression, like they're both surprised she'd have the nerve to stand up and actually say something. "You're a sociopathic, heartless, terrible waste of a human being, and I don't give a damn what you have to say about me, because I know it means nothing coming from you. I'm not your pathetic little puppet, and I get to pick whether or not you have any power over me, which you don't."

"Really?" His face contorts into something sinister. "Claris, you—"

"I said, shut the fuck up." She doesn't let him utter another word, walking out of the room with a renewed sense of courage making her heart beat out of its chest.

The only thing Claris would change is that she wishes she told this to him sooner, and she nearly laughs at just how angry he looks. She'll never have to see him ever again, and she's better off because of it. He'll spend the rest of his life rotting about his stupid company and the fact he no longer has any family. That is, if he's even human enough to realize that's a bad thing.

Quickly, she catches up with Mx. Matsumoto who raises his brows and asks, "Done already?"

Claris eagerly nods. "I think my father and I both said what needed to be said."

hudson pierce
fifteen / / district six
—

Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, this happens.

The last few weeks of Hudson's life have been an absolute nightmare. After her little joyriding escapade, Pop's bosses watched the security cameras and saw what had happened. They fired him for "theft" and "job neglect" even though the car was literally returned to where it was, and really he should've been charged with "child neglect" even though he left Hudson alone for all of five minutes.

He's been all grumpy ever since, and Hudson's seen a few needles in the trash bin. Even if Pops tries to blame himself, she knows the truth — this is all her fault, and now she's being sent to die as some form of sick karma.

Or… maybe not die. It'd be crazy if Hudson was already planning on that, but there's no denying that she's darn terrified as she sits on a chair in the Justice Building, Pops having just left, and just her friends and girlfriend to comfort her.

"Think of it this way," Shooter offers, awkwardly patting Hudson on the shoulder because he's definitely never felt the touch of a woman before. "At the very least, the Capitol will be way more fun than District Six."

"Anything is more fun than Six," Greaser attempts to correct him. "Except like… I don't know… Twelve?"

"Oh, that's right! You also get to meet people from the other districts!" Emma enthuses. "I wonder what the kids from Twelve will be like — they are criminals after all. It could be scary."

"Or they could be funny criminals!" Shooter says. "They're in jail for doing funny things!"

Meanwhile, Hudson is completely frazzled. She's usually so good at keeping up with these people, but her mind is running a million miles per hour, just like the car she didn't steal's engine. July, at least, notices this, and runs her hands through Hudson's hair. "Y'all need to calm down. You're worrying her."

"Are we?" Shooter's crooked smile drops. "Aw, Hudcap, I didn't mean to."

"Yeah." Emma nods. "We're just trying to see the good in all this, because we know we'll see you soon."

"You don't know that, though," Hudson says, not meaning to be as loud as she was. "Gang, this could very well be the last time we hang out."

"I wouldn't consider this a proper hang out," Greaser counters. "That was probably this morning when July made pancakes."

"We don't need to get into the technicalities." July pushes Shooter to the side, then sits on one of Hudson's legs. "Huddy, I actually wanted to ask you something."

"If you're asking me if I want to get married, the answer is yes," Hudson quickly spits out, her face going flush. "I've been thinking about it for all six weeks that we've been dating, and I'd love to marry you."

"That wasn't what I was going to ask…." July's voice trails off. Oops.

"Sorry."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to kiss for the very first time!" Wow — that's lowkey even better than marriage. "I mean on the mouth, not on the cheek."

Hudson's eyes Widen. "Oh July, I'd love to kiss you on the mouth. I know we were waiting until our two month anniversary and all, but I think—"

July turns her head around and kisses her, and for the first second, Hudson forgets to close her eyes. But then she does, and wow is it the best three seconds of her life.

When she opens her eyes, she's crying, which she absolutely was not expecting. "Um… thanks?"

"Ew!" Shooter sticks out his tongue in disgust. "Get a room you two! This is so gross!"

"You're just jealous," Hudson says, wiping away her tears. "And we can't get a room. That's kind of the point, idiot!"

"I think it was sweet!" Emma clasps her hands and starts swaying. "Love is in the air — that's just so beautiful!"

"I know who love isn't in the air for." Greaser laughs. "Hudson's partner. Did you see him dude? He looks so boring!"

"You were boring too before we became friends," July points out. "I think that Hudson has magic powers that makes anybody transform into somebody awesome and cool."

"Soran seems swag-proof, though," Shooter points out.

Hudson giggles. "Don't worry y'all, I'll turn him into somebody dope!"

Gosh, Hudson has just got to survive and get back to these people. There truly isn't any other option. She has to get back to Pops and provide for him with a swanky new house that'll make it so he never has to work ever again. In that house, she'll also get to have unlimited sleepovers with her besties, except July who will probably have to sleep in another room because they're dating.

She has to get back because dang it, Hudson Pierce just does not want to die, regardless of what the next six and a half months might try to do to her.

As a Peacekeeper tells everyone it's time for Hudson to go, the gang embraces in a group hug. "I love y'all," Hudson says. "Except you July, I just like like you, sorry."

"No, you're allowed to say you love me," she teases. "Now that I think about it, when you do get back, I agree, we should get married."

"Okay then. I love you."

"And I love you too." July gives her another kiss, and then it's really time for Hudson to leave.

She starts sniffling, even if she's doing her best to smile, because despite how strong she feels around her friends, there's still the chance she'll never see them again now that she's walking down the hallway, which frightens her to her very core.

None of this is fair, but it doesn't change the fact that it's happening. Everything happens for a reason though, at least that's what Pops told her once. What if her whole life has been leading up to this moment, and now she's finally going to go on a great adventure that ends with her saving everybody she loves?

Yes, that's surely the reason Hudson was reaped. It wasn't karma or anything bad — it was a sign that she's destined for life better than packing and shipping boxes, just like she always dreamed.

malus mortimer-bowery
sixteen / / district seven
—

He feels like an armadillidiidae, also known as a roly-poly or a pillbug. So much is happening around Malus, and all he wants to do is crawl into a tiny ball and not talk to or see anybody or anything.

For starters, he was chosen for the Hunger Games, which means that there's a chance he's going to die. One would think death is a thing Malus is unfamiliar with, but that's not true — all insects die at the end of their life-cycles. That's just what happens. Most bugs only live a year at most, so their deaths are expected, but humans are meant to live to at least seventy-five, so him dying in six months would make very little sense.

And yet, here he is, in a large wooden cabin, next to Father and Other-Mother (who he really missed, by the way) for what very well could be the last time before he dies sixty-one years earlier than what is expected.

He really would prefer to just be in Other-Mother's company and try to enjoy their brief reunion before it is inevitably cut short, but instead, she's been arguing with Father nonstop.

"You took her from me," Father scoffs, probably referring to Mother. "We were so happy together before you came along."

"She never loved you," Other-Mother counters. "She said you were an emotionally abusive prick."

"Yeah, well at least she didn't die when she was with me."

"Wait, what?" Malus' eyes widen. "Mother is… dead?"

"Huh?" Father squints, his eyes narrowly pointed at Malus with a look of disgust. "Did you not know?"

"How would I know if nobody told me?"

Suddenly, Malus feels incredibly stupid. Of course that's why he had to leave the cottage with Mother and Other-Mother. Mother didn't just… magically disappear. She died, which does make sense since she was very sick. How come Other-Mother never told him that? Did she think he wouldn't understand or something?

"Ivy, did you not tell him?" Father's gaze returns to Other-Mother. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't want him to get confused," she pleads.

"You thought I'd be confused?" Malus asks. "Why do you think that?"

"You're a bit narrow-minded. I wasn't sure if you knew what it meant for somebody to get sick and die."

"Of course I know what that means." He crosses his arms. "It happens to insects all the time."

Other-Mother looks at him like he's dumb, which he is not, thank you very much. Mother always said he was just "intelligent in a different way" from all the other kids. Did she really marry someone who thought so little of her own son?

"I'm sorry, then," Other-Mother says, as if it'll change anything. "Really, I didn't know."

"So you think my son is dumb then?" Father scowls. It feels weird that he's actually on Malus' side. "Malus, I thought you just didn't want to talk about it with me, so I never pushed you. I didn't realize you didn't know."

It's way too much for Malus to take in right now. Not only is he about to be shipped off to his probable death, he isn't sure there will be somebody he actually likes waiting for him in the event he gets home. Even the bugs will probably forget him — it's not like he's really seen any in the past six months.

Wait! Surely there will be insects in the Capitol, Malus realizes. A lot of his textbooks told him that the climate in the Capitol is very different, and therefore there are different bugs. That's… deeply reassuring.

"I promise, Father," Malus explains, trying his best to stay calm like a caterpillar. "All Other-Mother said was that Mother went away, and that I had to live with you now."

"And you just believed her?" Father harshly asks. "Timber and sticks, Malus. I just… I can't believe it."

"So you think I'm dumb then?" He folds in on himself, his head facing the floor because he doesn't think he can look Father and Other-Mother in the eye, not when they treat him like this. "You both think I'm dumb."

"I don't think that," Other-Mother offers, but Malus isn't sure if he believes her. "You're just smart in a very different way, like your Mother always said."

"Yeah, but she didn't imply I'm stupid."

"You're not," Father says, again not very convincingly. "This day is just a lot for me to handle. I had no idea you didn't know this, and now you're going to d—"

"You think I'm going to die?" Malus cuts him off, tears forming in his eyes. "You don't even think I have a chance?"

"That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant, I know it!"

"For what it's worth, I'm not writing you off," Other-Mother says. "You're taller and stronger than all the other boys your age, even your district partner."

"I don't believe you," Malus sneers. "You also don't think I am capable of understanding something as simple as death!"

Once Malus' first tears drop, the rest begin to flow like a river until his whole face is stained from grievous sobbing and his nose is so blocked up, he can hardly breathe. He doesn't even want to imagine what it looks like to Father and Other-Mother, but secretly, he hopes it makes them feel bad for underestimating him.

"I'm sorry." Father's expression shifts to one of immense pity. "I didn't mean what I said. I love you, son."

"And I love you too," Other-Mother echoes.

He doesn't believe either of them.

Malus Mortimer-Bowery is not an idiot. If it takes winning the Hunger Games to prove that, so be it. He'll just have to do whatever it takes to prove them wrong.

For the record, Malus calling his step-mom was never meant to be a Coraline reference. I've never even seen that movie. It just felt like a very Malus way to say "step-mom," so yeah.

This certainly was the goodbyes chapter of all time. I don't think I've written a proper goodbyes chapter in my whole life. In WTP1 through DT, I did goodbyes at the end of every intro, but I stopped that with ACD and I guess in WTP2, I did include part of Lorian and Asherah's goodbyes as a part of their intros, but yeah, a real goodbyes chapter hates to see me coming apparently.

Sorry if it was too repetitive. The good news is, I'll never write a goodbyes chapter again so no complaining. I tried to end them all semi-hopefully, because I'm not in the mood for too much angst. Thank you to Erik for beta-ing, and thank you to everyone for the support, even if that makes me sound like a broken fucking record LMAO.

Q (sponsored by Phobie, so if you don't like it, it's his fault): "ill give u two, pineapple on pizza yes or no/why or why not or uhh best videogame u played in 2024?"

I guess I will answer… Neutral to pineapple on pizza, usually it's too sweet but sometimes I don't mind. Best videogame was Penacony in Honkai Star Rail but I don't play that many videogames because I have no PC.

Okay, see you next week with train rides part one, featuring Sabine, Asphodel, Gir, Andi, Dove, Millicent, and Lavish. OMG… the Tributes are finally fucking interacting with one another.

Also, gimme capitolites, I've only gotten one.

Linds. Laugh. Love.