no rules in breakable heaven — emerson & arcadia

arcadia lumiere-fray

Why are there so many damn tribute descendants this year??

I counted. There’s nine. Nine. Tell me the last time you remember there being that many namesakes in one Games?

...

Yeah. That’s what I thought. The worst part of it is I’m not even the most popular one here, which is saying a lot. I look around the dining hall slowly, counting the tragedies around me.

Emerson Emberstatt sits alone staring out a window, and even with his back turned to me, I can sense his despair. Can see the invisible wings on his back straining against the shirt, wishing to be freed, longing to be anywhere but right here.

...

Actually, no. The real worst part of it all is seeing how fucking shattered everyone here is. Kids like Emerson struggling to keep on a brave face, because what else are they supposed to do?

My heart strings pull again; I feel the elastic begging for a release that I won’t ever let transpire.

I sit down next to Emerson, offering him a gentle smile as I reach into my pocket and start unwrapping a carefully folded napkin to reveal several tiny chocolate tartlets sprinkled with gold dust.

“Bourgeois kept stuffing her face with these all through our brunch date, so I’m guessing they must be pretty good. I was too nervous to eat, so you’ll have to tell me whether they’re worth the hype.” I place the treats down on the bench, and let the silence resume.

The mood is sombre; the world feels calm. I pray he feels it too. He deserves this moment of peace.

“You know, people think we have it easy. That just because our families are famous means we’ve never had to suffer. But in reality, it just means we’re more aware of how much we have to lose.” How much we have already lost; unspoken faces flash through the air in front of us.

I lean over and gently place my hand atop his. I am Summer’s blinding warmth; he is Winter’s frightened frost. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t fit, so I don’t say anything at all.