Drinks in the Dark [VT/2/Open]

After the ceremony was over, Julian had a short period of time before he was required to be at the mayor’s house for the celebratory dinner. He vaguely remembered his parents telling him to meet them there as his feet quickly carried him away from the crowd of wandering eyes. He could feel the heat of a thousand stares on the back of his neck as the District recalled his outburst on Reaping Day and his two month disappearance following. He could hear the whispers like nails on a chalkboard as he swept through the crowds. He was used to all of this by now however. It had been over six months since the Games and while most of the attention Julian got over them was over, the victory was bringing it fresh to the citizens of District 2’s memories.

He urged his legs to walk faster as he plowed through people all around him. He had to get away, and as soon as the crowd was thin enough, Julian broke into a run. His feet pounded against gravel and then grass until he found himself again in the field he and Midas had so often gone to in earlier days. His eyes fell upon the flowers and the trees that were so painfully familiar and memories of lying in Midas’ powerful arms stung his eyes.

Julian stood there silently for what felt like hours as he let the warm wind that hinted of springtime kiss his cheeks. He brought his hand softly up to his right cheek as the winds tickled his ear with memories of Midas’s words.

Do you think I could ever leave you?

Julian expression was stoic as his brought his arms around his chest as if holding himself. Silently, he turned and walked back to the town square where he would feast with the victor who was not Midas.

He didn’t say a word upon entering and was escorted to his seat by an attendant. He was set directly next to Mace, who didn’t seem to be very focused either. He wondered why he was seated so close to the victor. Was it because the two were the same age? Or was it some cruel punishment to further reopen the wounds of Midas’s death.

He slowly glanced around the room, taking in the mix of Capitolites and well-to-do citizens of District 2, including his victor parents. He was caught by surprise when he glimpsed himself in the mirror. His hair was completely wind-tossed and his cheeks her flush. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, trying to look more put together than he could ever possibly feel when he saw a large hand come at him from the corner of his eye. He up at Mace quizzically for a moment as he registered the fact he had just been spoken to by this boy he had harbored so much hate for in the last several months.

For a moment, he just looked at Mace. He could see the signs of morphling use written across his face now that he was up close. Had he turned to that after achieving victory? Julian realized he’d gone too long without acknowledging the hand in front of him and slowly placed his own in Mace’s palm.

“I’m Julian Bryze,” He said quietly, his voice was solemn and shaky. It was rare to ever be used these days. “I am–I was… Midas Farrow’s boyfriend.”

He took a deep breath, debating whether or not to ask his question, but the words slipped out of his lips before his brain could give him a decision. His eyes were wide with desperation as they looked into Maces, "Did you know him at all?"

Julian’s heart sank as Mace confessed he had never known Midas. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, perhaps some final message from the only one to ever possess his heart? His eyes fell to the floor as he accepted there would never be even the slightest glimmer from the love of his life ever again. If the victor of the Games had nothing for him, no one would. His eyes lit up and his gaze was brought back up to Mace’s when his deep voice spoke again.

Tell him about Midas? Julian took in a deep breath as he let the words sink over him. He hadn’t even spoken Midas’s name to anyone since day five in the 59th annual Hunger Games. In fact, he had barely spoken at all since that day. For the most part the only use his voice box received was in the night when he screamed and cried out for Midas in his sleep. Conversing with anyone had become to taxing, and Julian’s life had become nothing but sleep, school, training and occasionally eating when he could stomach it or was forced by his worrisome mother.

He brought a hand up to brush his fingers through his light blonde hair, as Midas would so often do. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he could almost pretend Midas was the victor sitting beside him and it was his own strong hands that touched him. He swallowed and took in a sharp breath through his nose before opening his eyes and looking back at Mace beside him. He felt so numb that he hardly realized his face was scrunched and a tear rolled slowly down his right cheek. His breath shook as his sad eyes looked directly into Mace’s. He searched for the words, but he felt there were never any that came close to describing his lost love.

“Midas,” he said, biting his lip and pausing for a moment as the name left his tongue. “Midas wasn’t like the rest of us…. I’ve been training for the Games my entire life. Competition and cruelty is in my blood. Look at my parents,” He nodded over to Serge and Pashmina Bryze, both former Games champions, “I was bred for the arena and conditioned for it since birth…” He had to stop for a moment as he dwelled on this thought. There was so much guilt behind his suffering that he had yet to speak of to anyone. It should have been Julian who entered the arena…

“I met Midas when we were kids. I saved him from some school yard bullies actually,” Julian said with a laugh. He was sure that scene was hard for Mace to imagine since Midas had grown into such a giant brute through training. Plus, Julian wasn’t exactly imposing; he had an athletic build certainly, but his body was rather thin and spritely—not the typical career. “He was also so kindhearted and quiet, easily walked over by the career children of District 2. Of course, I was one of those kids myself, but if you could see…” He paused again with a distant look as a small smile made his eyes squint. “If you could have seen the kindness in those big brown eyes—well, I was hooked.”

He turned his focus back to Mace and his expression saddened once more. “From that day onward, he never left my side. He trained with my parents and myself, molding him to be a champion for our District… Do you know why he wanted to enter the arena?” Julian scoffed at himself, “Me… me—the only reason I ever wanted to enter was to compete, was for glory and victory… but Midas was selfless. He wanted to win to give his parents a better life—to be able to give me a good life someday too…”

Tears began rolling down Julian’s cheeks again, yet he remained unaware. He sniffled and wiped his nose as he continued on. Mace probably thought he was crazy, for just pouring out to him about Midas like this, but Julian hadn’t opened up to anyone since his loss. There was something comforting in speaking with a boy who had at least been somewhere nearby in Midas’s final hours.

“The worst part of it is, I didn’t even deserve what he wanted to give me…. I pushed him away so much.” Julian gave a quiet half laugh, half sob as he recalled Midas’s own words to him, “You see, my family kind of sucks at displaying affection. I always thought it was a sign of weakness. I—I didn’t even tell him I loved him until just two nights before the Reaping.”

Julian looked away and his eyes took on a glossy appearance, as the chandeliers of the justice building’s ballroom reflected in them. He finally grasped that he was crying as he brought a hand up to his wet cheek. Quickly he wiped away his red, puffy eyes with a nearby napkin and turned back to Mace with a stoic, distant expression. “I guess this is my punishment though, you know? I didn’t deserve him, yet he went into the arena for me. I’ve spent my entire life preparing to kill for sport, while he did so out of his love for his family and myself. Someone once told me, terrible people meet terrible fates. Turns out they were right.”