chinks in the armor | { kellan & pyrite }

{ cut up and,
I can't feel my hands }

Twilight to dawn, Pyrite Shore in his arms. They slept like this often, her sneaking into his room through the window in order to avoid Kaiser and Rian and the like, sliding under his comforter, placing her head on his chest, and sleeping. Innocent. Completely unlike the affections they had shown each other when this had all started, which was to say, hardly any at all, and certainly not innocent.

Every time his eyes open, he was proud to see that she was still there. Hand entangled in his own, his thumb rubbed the surface of her ring and smiled. A kiss on the forehead, careful not to disturb her.

He laid there for quite some time, in a sort of euphoric purgatory: awake but still asleep, reality becoming a state of dream.

She was his dream.

A knock on the door. He hoped it wasn't his damn mother again. She had developed a real habit of finding him every morning now that Pyrite had started staying over and offering them breakfast. He slid out of bed, suddenly aware of how naked he was, and had to move Pyrite's clothes from last night in order to find his own. He pulled his shirt on. Where are my pants? He had all but decided briefs would have to suffice when he saw them hanging on top of his desk.

When he opened the door he was shocked to find a lady who did not live there standing on the other side. Probably because half of fucking District One lived there. She made a lousy attempt at coming in to the room, but he made it a point to step into the hallway and close the door behind him.

"I have company."

"Is is Pyrite?"

"What do you want?"

Her hair was cut short and dyed cherry red, hazel eyes ringed in so much eyeliner that she resembled an over-sized yet self-starved raccoon.

"My name is Crescent Caroul. I've just rode in from the Capitol to give the two of you a bit of good news."

"What kind of good news?

She pursed her lips. He got the feeling she did it a lot.

"I would rather tell the two of you together, if I could just—" She reached for the door handle, but he stepped in front of it. "She is sleeping."

"You have spunk. I guess the rumors are true. Kellan Fray: The Golden Boy. So many people were upset when they heard about your engagement, did you know? A lot of them had an idea that they would somehow marry you some day, and then they saw that ring! Ugh, caused quite an uproar. Speaking of, I really need to speak to her, if you could please—"

Another unsuccessful attempt to get pat him. He didn't know why exactly, but he got the feeling that she was about to tell them they couldn't get married because of some bullshit fan girls he would never meet, so he leaned in close enough for her to know he meant what he was about to say.

"Careful now," his voice was barely above a whisper, "She's mine. I don't give a fuck if the school girls want me to be single."

She used the moment to shove past him, bursting into the room.

"Hey!"

Pyrite was up, wearing one of his shirts. She always looked better in them than he did. He tried to make quick work of Crescent: grab her by the arm and walked her out, so she hurriedly spat out what she had come to say, "Your wedding is going to be a televised event!"

He let her go.

"What? Why?"

"As I told you before, Mr. Fray, the engagement caused quite the stir. People want to know what is happening. Also, we will be assuming the leadership role from here on out. We will need a bigger venue, because we plan on having several big names attend.

"Again, why?" He tried, "I'm not Justice, and she isn't Opal."

He felt the red hot heat burning within Pyrite's heart.

Tick, tick, tick— he waited for the explosion to come, because it was not a matter of if, but when she lost her temper. If he had learned anything about Pyrite Shore, it was that she was not to be crossed, ever by anyone. He had shared his fair amount of silent treatments in the hours after saying something stupid, after forgetting that things were meant to be different between them now.

Love— it changed people. For the most part.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

He suppressed the urge to smile.

Crescent's eyes betrayed her, displaying the shock of their reaction while the rest of her remained still, rigid, confident that she would win this argument. Perhaps she had expected this from Kellan, but not from Pyrite, which seemed entirely unfair, considering he had always done his best to maintain the image on shaking stilts his parents had fabricated from thin air. No mentions of how Justice used to be entirely incompetent, or how Scout was fucking insane, or that he was the only one in the entire family who had ever seen the potential in Pillar.

Each time he had been interviewed, he had just smiled and waved and told them what they wanted to hear.

("It is bitter-sweet.
I love them; I know they'll do well.
I just miss them.)

What a joke.

Pyrite had literally punched her newborn victor sister in the face fresh off the train home. Cameras and everything. And she had not allowed her sour emotions on the subject to be quelled by anyone: parents, siblings, and officials alike. Opal had not deserved to win in Pyrite's eyes, and she made sure everyone knew it.

God, he loved her so much.

"Who exactly are these big names you're referring to?"

They were B-list at best, siblings of the famous. They were the random people next to celebrities in magazines, only recognized by a few of the many. They were just two careers who had grown up and seen things in a different light: seen that maybe the games were not the only way to live.

Right?

"Well, Opal and Justice will need to come. Best man and maid of honor. We've sent invitations to Peridot Myler and Topaz Ross, as well as the Moreno, Devereaux, and Lightwood families—" He held a hand up— "The Lightwoods? Are we living Ten years in the past?"

She pursed her lips and continued, "Even Mayor Leia Chevalier herself is meant to attend."

This was, easily, the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of. Neither of them had been reaped. If they had, they would have been sleeping in the Victor's Village when they got interrupted for shit like this, not Opal and Justice. If they had won the games, Pillar would have still been alive, because Kellan would have known how to fucking save her.

Neither of them had been keen on a big wedding in the first place. Their marriage was already a display show to the other big names in District One— a union between Ocean Shores and Wildest Frays, Squids and Stallions shaking hands and laying their heads down together at night. Kellan would have been content to sign a piece of paper and give her the fucking ring, but no. Their parents had made a big announcement about it, and now, the Capitol heard about it, and the were making an even bigger announcement.

"I know it isn't ideal—" Crescent tried, red lips stopping when he stood.

"Ideal," he repeated sarcastically.

"I would appreciate a change in attitude, Mr. Fray. It would do you some good to remember that I am here on official Capitol order."

"Why? That's what I want to know! Why does it matter so much to everyone?"

"The citizens of One need a reason to smile, Mr. Fray."

Stunned silent, eyes frozen on hers. She had that look that he had expected to see when he looked at her: regret. She should not have said what she had said. As the gears began to click in place, he became perfectly aware of what was going on. The increase in gang violence, the vandalizing, the graffiti.

The Capitol was worried about an Uprising.

He looked from Crescent to Pyrite, certain she understood.

"A reason to smile, huh?" He asked, eyes still on Pyrite.

A reason to smile.

Because two people in love was somehow going to make a gang say 'Oh! What the hell am I doing? Let's call this off because her dress was so lovely.'

He sat down, buried his face into his hands.

He didn't know what to say.