a good night }} poppy x justice blitz

I cross my arms at the pool's edge, idly kicking my feet as she sits next to me and rings the water from her hair. A smile lights up her face and I'm reminded just how little of it I ever get to see. Just one of the reasons I've always been jealous of Ellie—being able to witness the smile on her face when she holds Cedric is probably the greatest gift this world has ever given anyone.

She's happy with them. I didn't get it. Not until I was standing outside that hospital room with a dozen roses clutched tight to my chest as if that would make me the winner. I never went in. To see her. Just stood there and watched as he kissed her forehead, a smile lighting up her face as a tiny hand wrapped around her little finger.

I may be able to win the Hunger Games, but she's a game I'll never be able to win.

The whiskey has never gone down as smoothly as it had that night.

I walk my fingertips up her thigh, trying to rid myself of the sobering thought as she speaks—"Think they'll have champagne in the honeymoon suite?" I fall deeper under her spell with every musing, growing more and more impatient for a real answer as she slips back into her dress.

Mesmerizing.

She caught me dazed—"Last one to find out's a rotten egg!"—letting me drink her in as she plotted against me.

"Hey!" I call after her as I scramble ungracefully out of the pool. "That's definitely cheating!"

Sopping wet clothes drag me down, hold me back. An even playing field, really. The drenched cripple versus the cocktail dress. I'm laughing as I stumble along after her, the cool air making me shiver as my clothes begin to dry against my skin. It's been so long since I've felt like this.

Happy.

She makes me so fucking happy.

I grab her at the waist as her hands close around the fancy golden handle of the hotel lobby. I shake my hair out next to her, sending droplets onto her face as I reach around her to pull the door open.

"Ladies first," I bow extravagantly.

I can see the twinge of annoyance in the the manager's face as we stumble through his prim and pristine hotel lobby suppressing laughter and dripping water all over the marble floor. The annoyance dissipates as he recognizes me, dollar signs lighting up in his eyes.

"What can I do for you Mr. Fray?"

I hesitate, only for a moment, as I look between Poppy and the man behind the desk. I slide my ringed hand into my pocket, chuckle, clear my throat.

"The honeymoon suite."

The champagne bubbles over as I pop the cork free, spilling on my shoes and staining the carpet purple. One long pull from the bottle and I'm tasting stars, dancing among them as she takes the bottle from my hands. Passed between us the bottle is empty in only a few minutes, the bubbles rising in our chests and warming our cheeks until they're as red as the bouquets of roses filling the room.

"You don't have to do this for me," she says, the tips of her fingers gently tracing the faint scars on my chest as she undoes the ivory buttons of my shirt. "Expensive rooms and savory wines."

And I know I don't have to.

"But I want to."

"That's not what I care about."

She has no idea just how beautiful she is. She's no idea the kind of attention she demands simply by walking into a room. She doesn't know what it's like to get trapped in her gaze or touched by her lips. She can hate the idea of diamonds and pearls all she wants, but it's too late to convince me she doesn't deserve the world.

She's already the queen of my kingdom.

I undo my diamond cufflinks, letting them drop to the floor along with my shirt. My hands are impatient, already moving to help her out of her dress. A silk robe replaces the dress as I pop the cork on a second bottle. This one sparkles with flecks of gold, seems to glow in low light of the room. I let her take it from me, smiling after her as she laughs over her shoulder.

"And we both know you've nothing to compensate for."

I laugh louder than I should, grinning like a madman because: "Ah, so that's what you care about?"

"Get out of those rags already, would you?"

"Oh, pushy," I say raising my eyebrows at her as I unfasten the watch on my wrist. "Could've just asked nicely for a striptease, y'know?"

I sit at the edge of the bed, wrestling with my shoes and socks the way a four year old would. I switch out of the specially tailored pants for silk ones to match her robe, snatching back the champagne bottle at the first chance I get. One, two, three gulps of liquid stars and I set it aside.

I set my engagement ring next to it.

I wiggle what toes I have left in the carpet next to hers with a smile, rolling her head so I can press my lips to her neck. The words that follow roll right off my tongue. Natural and instinctive as I breathe them into her skin.

"I love you."

A truth.

One I should've told six years ago.

She's got my heart in her hands. Gentle, careful. I hate trusting people. I've always hated trusting people. Fists buried in my stomach, blood spilling from my lips, and there's just no room for trust when you're struggling beneath the boots you're expected to fill. Cold steel toes, sharp blades, and hearts frozen over—all for the sake of glory and fame and a fucking title attached to our name.

Children trust with all their heart and I was no different. I don't know how many broken promises it took for me to finally realize that my parents didn't care about me. Probably too many. I'm stupid and stubborn like that.

"What changed your mind?"

Gentle, careful. She could crush my heart in her hands. Tear me in two, beat me bloody. I'm so vulnerable within her grasp, but fuck caution. If I'm going to break I want her to be the one to do it.

I trust her to be gentle.

"You haven't forgotten the last time."

I trust her to make it quick.

"And I can't."

I trust her.

"What changes about tonight? Or should I expect to wake up with a hangover and a sympathy card?"

Her hair tickles my cheeks, her lips somehow even softer than silk robe she wears. Her touch is so sweet and so tender I'm afraid I won't be able to match it. My heart pounds relentlessly, my breath hitching wherever she goes. I'm shaking my head because that's not what this is. This isn't last time.

"I've known for so long Fray. Since then-"

Her eyes are glass.

"You are my one."

A kiss so tender I'm lost.

"And I came to terms with the fact that I would never have him a long time ago."

I forgot.

She already let me have her heart. And I was not gentle.

"I should've never let you go."

I sit up to kiss the tears away from her cheeks, my thumb desperate to repair the cracks her tears weave into her skin. I've shot her one too many times, left the bullets to sit there and fester. She hid them so well, pretended I'd missed every single shot. But there they are. Every single wound finally bleeding out and staining my skin red.

"I should've just told you then," my voice cracks, my thoughts frantic, mind searching for the words that'll stitch up the wounds. "I was an idiot, I was stupid, I was--"

I'm so awful.

I take her hand in mine, fingers dancing over the spot where her ring had been sitting.

"I should've bought you that ring," I whisper into her palm before I press her hand to my heart. "You've always been my one."

I take her face in my hands, tears sitting at the corners of my eyes just waiting to fall.

"But I'm not living without you."

"Please don't make me live without you."