Into the Unknown [Cecily/Arthur]

His hair was still wet.

Water dripped down from his curls upon the carpet, his tee shirt stuck close to his chest and joggers hugged his legs, all thrown on in a rush. Just as sure as his heart thudded through his chest and his hands had shaken, so much so he’d put them into his pockets to hide. He’d kept his head down walking through the hall toward the elevator, whispering don’t be suspicious, as though his brain couldn’t hold in the thought and wanted to remind Arthur not to be a total idiot while he waited for the elevator.

Each reaping video had revealed more about each of the kids he’d have to shank to get to have a chance at returning home, but it’d been district five’s that’d have him scrolling back and repeating the feed.

The girl had up and bolted from the reaping, but unlike Arthur’s own embarrassing attempt, had burst toward the unknown like a hurricane. She’d still wound up here, for sure, but he couldn’t help but feel some strand of connection between him and five. Someone that had thought it’d be better to run than to stay, that there could’ve been courage in her stride even if it’d led down a dead-end road.

But what was courage if you weren’t willing to face the darkness of the unknown? Terrified or not, it’d meant a lot more than any sort of speech, any sort of volunteer stepping forward.

He’d stood in front of district five’s apartment for a minute, opening and closing his left fist, readying a knock. He should’ve been in his bed to nurse his bruises or falling asleep to the rest of the tribute interviews. Except he hadn’t been spared the urge to run, to leave this place, if even for a night, to see what the lights in the distance might’ve held. And while he’d wanted to go it alone, knew that as soon as he’d seen the lights of the lobby, would’ve turned with his tail between his legs and headed back to the third floor.

And so he’d come here, to five.

He knocked once, then twice.

“Erm. Cecily?”