Every Rose has it's {Thorn} | Odysseus One-Shot

I fucked up.

Letting him go into the games was the worse thing I could've done, but he was living his dream. All he had trained for. All his hard work was finally paying off. He was doing exactly what he wanted. After he was reaped, I couldn't even show up to say goodbye to him because it would make me feel weak. Crying in front of my cousin wasn't something I wanted. Deep inside a heart made of stone shattered into millions of pieces, yet I knew he was more than capable of returning home. Mason Hammerfell wasn't a quitter. He would fight no matter what, and that's exactly what I expected of him.

The moment he left, I stood in the square for what felt like a life time before I was ran away by my family. Mother and Father begging me to return home before the sun fell over the horizon for the night. Not that I cared because fuck them. Fuck everyone here. At least the girl had a savior - Mason would've murdered me on stage if I tried to take his place. Grudgingly, I walked home with my head held high. Letting my parents know the pain lurking inside my body wasn't an option. A stone cold career doesn't cry when someone is taken away; I should cheer for him. Happy that he's finally living his dream.

But he was going into the game of death.

The thought ran through my head every single second of the day since the reaping ended, and it honestly took everything inside of me to push it away. The brave face was needed especially when the guys at the academy asked me how I was doing. "I'm having the time of my life." The same words escaped my lips each time someone asked, and they knew to back away otherwise they would receive a piece of my mind.

That night after I returned home, I picked up a pen and piece of paper. Something needed to be done. Something needed to change. To make things right again. All I thought about was hoping and praying it wasn't too late, and the reaping day wasn't the last day I would see him, yet deep inside a single voice whispered he wouldn't return. It was something I dreaded. Something that I pushed away because Mason was more than capable of winning. He would return home. Shaking my head I began scribbling against the paper.

Mason,
Man, you're gone to the games now. You were reaped, and you're finally living your dream. We've trained for many years for this. This was your last year, and I knew deep inside that if your name wasn't called, you would volunteer. Honestly, I would've rather watched you volunteer because it's what you wanted, and that way it wasn't the Capitol's choice. They chose you, and you had no other option. I was tempted to volunteer for you, but I knew you would hate me forever if I did that especially if I ended up winning. I didn't want to steal your glory. Your fame. Your fortune. Was it wrong of me? No. You always told me to stop anyone who tried to volunteer for you, and that's exactly what I did. I'll never forget the days we sparred together. Sometimes you would win, and sometimes I would win. One of your favorite tricks was knocking my glasses off making me blind. It was unfair, but it was an advantage. If someone in the games needed the glasses to see, you could easily swipe them from their face and kill them. It would be funny to see. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for not showing up to say goodbye. Mason, watching you be taken away was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my entire life. I couldn't stand in the room with you because I wanted to cry. Not because you were living your dream, but because everyone goes into the games, but only one comes home alive. I don't doubt your strength. I don't doubt your capabilities, but only one comes out alive. Mason, and that one person has to be you. You have to win because I don't know what I would do without you. My sparring partner. The one who always knows how to break the tension and show something worthwhile. I wish you the best of luck, Mason Hammerfell because I need you to return home. I want you to return home because without you, I'm lost. These last few hours have been horrible. Mother and Father ushered me away from the district square because it's not where I belong. You can do it. You can win this, and you can return home. I want to give this to you. I want you to read it, so you can laugh at my face for being weak.

Good luck Mason Hammerfell.
Love,
Odysseus

The pen fell from shaky hands as I fought with every ounce of strength I had because I wasn't weak. I was strong. Mason wouldn't approve. He would want me to be strong. Taking a deep breath, I fold the sheet of paper before shoving it into the notebook resting on the table before pushing it away.

*****

Five days. That's how long the games have been going on. Mason has killed someone. He tried to break the arm of his ally. He's fought along side them killing mutt after mutt, and he's done well, and I can't help but be happy for him. Ten remain. Ten tributes left alive, and the idea of Mason returning home grows stronger and stronger and stronger with every passing second. He could do this.

A gentle breeze passed through the district square as my eyes remain fixed on the screen as each tribute marches towards the feast. For some reason, they make it mandatory. A huge grin spread across my face while more and more people gathered in the square. Soon it was crowded. Mason was the only hope. After Hedvig died in the bloodbath, a lot of hope was lost, but I wouldn't ever give up on my cousin, and the first time I hear of anyone giving up on him, my fist will meet their face.

It starts out amazingly, but right away I notice something's wrong. People are ganging up on him. Attacking him with brutal blows. Blood spills from his body painting the snow underneath him red, but he retaliates with an amazing flaming axe towards the girl from five. He hits her with the axe over and over, and she's almost dead, and somehow she managed to escape. To climb on top of a pillar as those around continued hitting him. Over and over and over.

My heart sank into my stomach as the career from four sneaks up behind him with the ice pick raised high. "MASON MOVE!" I'm shouting as loud as I possibly can. It's like slow motion watching as the ice pick flies through the air before connecting with the back of his head. No words fall from my lips as my chin drops towards the ground. He's falling towards the snow covered ground with rapid speed, and I know something's wrong. Mason wouldn't just fall. He wouldn't give up. He would keep fighting because he knows giving up isn't in the career code.

BOOM!

His imagine plasters against the screen as the cameras move closer towards him. I couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. He's gone. My heart screamed for the truth. Telling me to run away. But I couldn't cry. I couldn't do anything. Not right now. Not when everyone in the district was watching. I can hear the mumbles forming from the crowd as people start walking away. Wake up Mason. Get up! Fight! My lungs begged for oxygen as the world around me spun slowly collapsing towards the ground. An entire weight pressed down against my shoulders, and it took all I had to stand.

It happened so fast. The kid from three retaliated against the career from four striking him down. The fucker deserved to die. Not Mason. Mason should be alive. He should be standing in the midst of the blood right now painting a picture that nobody else could paint. My eyes fixed on his body as the fighting continues around him. Like nobody even fucking cared that he just died.

I drop to my knees as a single tear slides down my face.

Mason, I'm sorry. I just hope you can forgive me.