i wish you well /avriel oneshots

The sun is setting by the time Avriel starts heading back to his compartment on the train. He watches it go, golden fingers running through fields of tall grass waving in the wind. The grass goes on and on for miles to the point where he can't see where it ends and the distant mountains begin, like the horizon on the ocean in Four. Slowly, the light pulls back over the grass as the sun settles down on its haunches behind the mountains.

The dying light makes squares on the floor of the train through the open curtains and Avriel walks through them as they are hurtled further into the dark. His hand closes into a fist at his side out of habit. He remembers that he isn't afraid of the dark anymore, he remembers that the sun is going to rise tomorrow, that it's going to come back and it'll be alright.

The sun will come back, the light will come back, the dark, rising, is like the tide. It will recede. He stops and leans against one of the rows of seats and turns to watch as the last of the light is eclipsed by the mountain. The sky darkens slowly, that half-asleep blue pulling itself tight over the corners of the sky.

The stars will arrive soon.

He knows that, but Avriel still gets this little voice in his head telling him that the stars are all dead, they've been eaten by the dark.

The lights on the train flicker on and Avriel keeps moving, putting space between himself and everyone else. His last instructions to Nowles and Oz had been to watch the reaping to start getting an understanding of the competition. He's going to do the same so that he can start making a game plan. His mind runs fast, all business. It's almost scary how easy it is for him to fall back into this.

Av unlocks the door to his cabin and there's Scout curled up asleep on the windowsill, using the peel of an orange as a blanket. It's little light pulsates slowly and it reflects in the window as if there are two of the mutt. The world outside only gets darker and Avriel stands there watching Scout for far too long. He wonders if it ever gets lonely. Maybe it'd be good to get him a friend somehow.

He's letting himself get distracted. Avriel opens a cupboard in the cabin, too familiar with the layout of the trains now, to reveal a little screen. Then he opens a drawer and pulls out a notepad and pen branded with the train's logo. The television flicks on automatically and starts playing Panem's anthem. There's only one thing being broadcasted right now, all other channels have been muted for the reaping recap.

District Ten comes into view, he's going to have to wait for the program to start again to see the careers, arguably the most important competitors as they're the most well trained.

The cabin is quiet as he works, the world fades outside as he writes notes. The moon rises. He pauses as a commentator drones on about District Twelve's reaping to glance outside. Silver light illuminates the tall grass along the tracks. As the grass ripples in the wind, ribbons of silver move slowly in the distance across the field, giant birds flying low over the surface of a glassy lake.

He shuts his eyes, the rocking of the train carriage becomes the rocking of a boat.

Soft static as the program rolls over, the pen goes slack as he waits. His hand is sore from gripping the pen, the words won't make sense to anyone but him. It's been a long time since Avriel had to write that much. He's always had shit handwriting anyway.

The anthem plays again and Avriel opens his eyes. The light in the cabin has dimmed to make way for the full moon shining into the window. Everything is bathed in this cold, white light.

District One comes into view on screen. Avriel lifts his pen again, ready, watching. He wants to know as much as he can about the careers as soon as possible. The female tribute is called and it's not a last name that Avriel recognizes. He writes her name down and then draws an arrow as she nominates a Vanburen in her place. Interesting choice to get the Vanburen family on your bad side but whatever, her funeral.

"Eden Le Roux."

His pen stops on the page and Avriel looks up. The escort is standing there, beaming beside Pope as they wave the little slip of paper over their head. The Le Roux tributes are always popular, always an instant fan favourite no matter how early they bow out. They've gotta be happy about how easy it's going to be to get their tributes sponsorships with that. A Vanburen and a Le Roux? Lucky.

Lucky.

The camera pans to Eden in the crowd, standing there beside Eurydice. It zooms in on Eden's face and Avriel stands too. He steps up close to the screen and places one hand against it. Then he places his other hand on the screen until both are covering Eden's face.

How lucky.

Eden starts walking up to the stage between his fingers. He can see him weaving in between the holes in the crowd and they part for him and it's as if he's dying and no one wants to touch him again. It's as if he's laying there in the dirt and no one will help him again because they're afraid of him.

The crowd roars for him, not like the silence of the crowd in Nine. In One it's an honour to go and die, in One it's a fucking pleasure.

It's so lucky.

Avriel is standing there holding his hands against the screen, holding Eden against himself, in the dark, in the beeping dark of the hospital room, beep beep beep, a hand holding his, squeezing, grounding. A warm breath in the dark against his cheek, blood coating his shirt and a body slack against his, and her hands over his own around the knife and Blade laying on the beach, eyes unseeing, trained up at the sky.

Losing all over again.

Eden, the boy bought to be a gun, he stands there on the stage, Avriel cups his hands around his little form on the screen, as if he can keep him there, hold him in place, keep him there safe. The crowd yells, they wait, they wait for him to accept, to choose, to do anything and Avriel knows that he's hours too late.

"Eden," he says, "Eden don't."

It doesn't matter that the other boy can't hear him, it doesn't matter that the train is hurtling him into the dark at hundreds upon hundreds of miles per hour because the dark has already settled over him and somehow it's like a balm because no one can see him.

No one can see him like this, holding himself up against the little screen in the dark, waiting for Eden to step down and knowing that he won't because he can't. He's the boy on the balcony standing in the freezing cold winter while everyone else sits at the table in the warm glow of candlelight, he's the boy with a blade through his chest.

beep beep beep

"Please," he whispers, "Eden."

He rests his head against the cupboard door, the tracks on the train jostle his hands away from the screen and he lets them fall. The knife in the dark, Eden, his fingers held up to tell him he had three minutes left, shaking in the cold in just a plain t-shirt.

And Eden in the grimy little bathroom in Four, blood running down his face from a cut, wild and angry and so fucking brittle. Shrinking like he'd never been touched nice in his life.

Eden just stands there and he says nothing and the anthem begins and Avriel curls his hand into a fist and then his fist is in the screen and there is glass in his knuckles and there is blood on the glass and there is blood and glass on the shelf below and Avriel turns his head to look out the window but all he can see is this boy in the window gazing back at him with a bloody fist cupped to his chest and he looks so sad.

But Avriel isn't sad.

He drops his hand, lets it fall to his side. Blood runs down his knuckle and drips from his finger onto the floor. Scout is on the shelf now, eating pieces of broken, bloody glass. It pushes long slivers into the black hole of its mouth and there's no sound as it swallows them whole.

Avriel stands there, hand shaking from the pain of it and the night darkens with the passing of the moon. The stars start to come out, their lights twinkling on one by one.

Avriel turns off the light; the world goes pitch black.

Scout is bright enough, flickering with energy now like a fire. It's the only light in the dark left. Avriel tugs a window open with his good hand and wind rushes through the small space, pushing Avriel back against the wall and sending Scout rolling across the floor.

The papers on the notepad fly back and tear away, they go flying around the cabin, cutting through the air with a flapping sound. Avriel shields his face with his bloody hand and pushes the window open further until the wind is the only sound, until it becomes hard to breathe from the force of it. He shuts his eyes and curls up on the ground, his hand cradled against his chest.

The dark fills the cabin, rushing in with the wind. It swallows his suitcase first, then the rest of the broken glass. The papers get sucked into the pitch black next and then it comes for Avriel too.