have you got colour in your cheeks | char swap;jess

I press my fingers against his cheek and feel the heat there. He doesn't show sign of feeling it. His chest continues to rise and fall with a rythm similar to that of a drunk man, stumbling along the street. Teddy hasn't been healthy since he got home, even less since his collapse in the sqare at the reaping.

my fault.

It's all my fault.

I don't realize that the lighter is out of my pocket and in my hand until the smell of my skin burning hits my nose. "Shit," I mutter softly to myself, shutting it with a snap. I flinch at the loudness of the sound in the small space of Teddy's room but my little brother doesn't move.

"Shit," I say and I put my face in my hands, fingers working away at the puffiness under my sleepless eyes.

The wound doesn't sting much; nothing ever does. Like the gang members I let work under me I've trained myself to stop feeling pain. It doesn't make me cold, not like it should. I'm always too warm. Heated up, there's a flow of something beneath my eyelids, angry and burning my brain. I smolder too much but I can never stay lit. The bellows in my chest don't go without the touch of the boy who started them back up all those months ago. Nemo. I wonder where he is this afternoon, what it is that keeps him away.

I stand up then, letting myself quietly out of Teddy's room. I worry that there isn't enough sunlight in there, not enough for the little brother that always used to have his face turned towards the sun. He doesn't grow anymore. I'm worried that he's stalled. There's a part of me that knows he never will, that his heart has gotten the better of him and he's destined to spend the remainder of his days in pain; stunted growth.

I curl my hand into a fist and press it against the wood of the hallway, pushing my knuckles hard into the old wood. Dust motes jump in the air around me, the light of the hallway window painting cascades on the wall. I feel it when the pressure starts to become too much but I'm holding my breath, a quiet sob struggling to jump out of the back of my throat. My eyes water with the tears that I'm trying so hard not to shed over my little brother.

The feeling of hopelessness is back in full force, shocking my body in waves, exhausting me. It never really goes away.

I go downstairs. The house is quiet; Teva and Cal are off somewhere and as usual, I don't know where the fuck Tripp is. I don't know what to do with all this quiet. I want there to be noise but not even Merlin is around. Nemo said he was coming in an hour but he's often late. I'm not expecting him until four.

It occurs to me that I could sleep while I wait.

I would if I could.

I think.

I think too much. Nemo tells me that all the time, but maybe I don't and maybe that's the problem. I should have known somehow that this would happen, that Teddy would get frustrated and try to do something as stupid as stab a peackeeper on his own. He's my little brother after all, if I thought I was stubborn then I should have known that Teddy was twice as stubborn as me. I didn't. I didn't think enough.

Shit.

The lighter is back in my hand. My knuckles are raw from dealing with the wall and white from holding the little metal lighter so tightly. The skin on my arm slowly goes red.

Fuck me.

I snap it closed again and shove it deep into my pocket. A strangeness grips my throat and I shove my arm under the faucet in the kitchen.

It's gotten bad since the reaping. Worse, I guess. I think about that kid and how he died for me and I know that I didn't deserve him saving my pathetic life. I'm a shit big brother and an emotional backpack of a boyfriend. I'm better at hurting people than helping them.

I drag the back of my hand over my eyes, wiping away tears.

Maybe I should just go and find Nemo, I don't think I want to wait for him anymore.