belated celebrations. // tunnel3day3.

l u c k y
nachtnebel

Unlike the first night, Lucky set up his tent outside the cabin beside Xylia's. Nosies-kneesies on who had to take the first watch, and of course the one who calls the game is the first down to his knees. Pitching the tent confused him, and Lucky ultimately copied Xylia nail-for-nail, fold-for-fold. It was easy to fit inside. Thankfully, each of them agreed to take one tent from the lodge instead of hoping they could cramp inside together. Maybe two people could fit inside if they didn't mind some PDA.

Lucky sprawled out in his tent, bunching his cloak up atop his leather harness to make a pillow. It was so uncomfortable to sleep on the cold mattress of the arena's earth. Was this how the handsome seventeen-year-olds from the Dark Days slept? Flat, with no cushion?

He rolled over restlessly, unable to choose which lit silhouette outside his tent to watch: Gunner or Xylia. Gunner was outside, no tent pitched for the boy who took the first watch. His shadow swayed back and forth, surveying the area. Lucky admired Gunner for how he managed to keep such a good posture despite his height. The boy from Four slouched often when he relaxed, but he could see Gunner's straight back and physique, still and strong as he watched on their behalf. And Xylia; just so beautiful. Even through two layers of tent, he watched diligently for every strand of her hair to gracefully fall as she laid down. Of course, she would kill him if she caught him watching.

Compared to the lodge, it was more difficult to sleep in the woods. The barren trees did little to keep the wind from terrorizing his tent. Lucky turned against the blowing wind, burying his face into the comfort of his cloak. His companion, a frozen blue now, paced around the tent, seemingly unbothered by the weather.

"Hey." A dejected voice spoke from outside his tent. Gunner's.

A light sleeper, Lucky picked his head up, unzipping the tent to see his ally surrounded by the darkness of midnight. "Hmm?"

Gunner asked to share Lucky's tent. Apparently, his was broken by the harsh winds already. How unfortunate for him! Half asleep, Lucky tossed over, shrugging him off. "Use Xylia's," he said, voice muffled into the pockets of his satchel. He refuted, somewhat agreeably, that Xylia would never say yes.

Once it became clear that the back-and-forth would never cease, Lucky grabbed his equipment and shoved it to the side of his tent, making room for Gunner. The boy from Nine was incredibly rigid on the other side of him, still in the night as Lucky readjusted to sleep, facing away from Gunner. He was an only child, so sharing his belongings did not come naturally.

"If you toss in your sleep and put your arm around me, you’re gonna lose another eye."

"Shh!" He groaned, stretching his legs to the end of the tent.

When Lucky woke hours later, his head rested on Gunner's chest and his body curled up beside him, taking up every centimeter of space between them.

He blinked ahead, the dim light of early dawn making Xylia barely visible through the snowfall. Was she watching?

He sat up, quietly pooling all of his things together to step outside. He was embarrassed. Lucky's body moved stiffly upon realization that he was lying that close to a boy, where his breath was Gunner's and Gunner's breath was his. He turned away, unable to look at Gunner after what had happened. His breaths were hurried and acidic as he wrapped his satchel around his neck and shoulder.

That was not what he wanted to happen. Did he know? Was he mad? A part of Lucky wanted to throw up as he unzipped the tent and went over to Xylia. He pulled up his hood, his gaze away from hers. He wanted Xylia. He wanted Rita. Lucky did not want Gunner. Did he? He did not want a boy. He did not want the world to think he would want a boy. "I'll watch, now." Lucky crossed his arms and pulled his goggles down across his face. The sun rose behind heavy clouds, but the rays still peaked through. All eyes on him.

The snow grew heavier, and the temperature grew colder. Xylia and Gunner spoke in the morning about the weather being dangerous and how the mines were the only reasonable shelter. Lucky nodded in silent agreement. He'd rather share a cavern than a tent after last night. Lucky's eye bounced between Xylia and Gunner as they rushed east, trying to gauge whether either of them was acting differently. Did they notice? Did they look at him like every fiber of his expression was disarmed?

He entered the cave first, spear drawn. Lucky straightened out his posture, every step more masculine than the last. "No more distractions, okay? Just stay focused." He spoke aloud, but the person he tried to sell it on the most was himself.

They rounded a corner and before he knew it, someone was ahead to surprise them. Harley Royce, his favorite party guest from Three! Within the blink of his eye, there was a flashy red gun at his forehead and a knife at his throat. Gunner was the first to react, drawing his gun at Harley. Xylia was next. His shoulders relaxed as he stood in silence. Maybe they hadn't seen, or felt in Gunner's case, what he did last night. If they had, would they have protected him like this?

Lucky's knee bent as the ground rumbled. Xylia's reflexes were the fastest. As the cave's innards shook, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back, but Lucky stumbled toward the far wall instead. It was the first instinct he had to pull Rita along with him as he flung toward the side of the cavern. He clung to her, shielding her head from the falling rock by towering over her with his hard hat.

The quaking settled, and his desperate clinging turned into a hug. So much for 'no more distractions!' Lucky was his own biggest hypocrite. His fingers ran through the back of her hair. "Fancy meeting you here," he spoke loudly at first, but continued in a whisper into her ear, "I didn't know you kept such gnarly and snarky company."

He looked her over for any injuries. "You okay? I tried to keep you safe. Bet you didn't need my help, though."

Lucky turned next to the others in the cavern, even Harley, although his spear rested defensively across his chest. "Everyone okay?"

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l u c k y
nachtnebel

Lucky held on to Gunner's arm as he yelled at him, navigating the treacherous attempts the Gamemakers made to bury them. For once, Harley's advice sounded like a good idea in the grand scheme of things. Run before you get lost. "FUCK! You're a fucking idiot." Did that answer his question? No, but at this point, making it out safe and not getting clobbered by Gunner's fist was the immediate priority. If yelling kept him on task, then Lucky would take it. "Go back to her if you want, Luck."

Why was he so upset that Lucky ran to Rita instead of licking his wounds?

"She's my friend, Gunner!" Friend. One step forward in the cave, two steps back on his feelings. "I take care of my friends." How many days ago did Lucky make that promise to Gunner himself? He was capable of being by Gunner's side when he needed him to. With every word Lucky spoke, the muscles in Gun's arms tightened and the blood scraping his lips bent down. "If you wanted me to hold your hand through the entire Hunger Games… I don't know." Was he just making matters worse? Probably, but it irked him that Gunner protected him one minute and abandoned him the next all because he hugged a girl.

"Can we just talk about this–" There'd be no more talking. Gunner turned toward him and leaned in without warning. His lips across Lucky's, Gunner's hands on his cheeks, the leather on their chests bumped together.

Lucky's eye widened through it all.

He understood now.

He hated it, in the heat of the moment.

It took two and a half seconds before Lucky pushed him off. "DUDE?!" It was a panicked blend of complex emotions: shock, anger, confusion, fear, and hesitance.

The boy blinked once before releasing his grip on Gunner's arm. "Let's just…" What had happened settled in and how Gunner felt was clear. Guilt washed over him as the rocks around them rattled on the floor.

"just... come on." He ran.

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