Chapter 16

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"Always."

In the twilight of morphling, Katsuki whispered the word and (M/N) went searching for him. It was a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. (M/N) pushed through cloud banks, followed faint tracks, and caught the scent of cinnamon. He felt Katsuki's hand on his cheek and tried to trap it, but it dissolved like mist through his fingers.

When he finally began to surface into the sterile hospital room in 13, he remembered. He was under the influence of sleep syrup. (M/N)'s heel had been injured after he climbed out on a branch over the electric fence and dropped back into 12. Katsuki had put him to bed and (M/N) asked him to stay as he was drifting off. He had whispered something (M/N) couldn't quite catch. But some part of his brain had trapped his single word of reply and let it swim up through his dreams to taunt him now.

"Always."

Morphling dulled the extremes of all emotions, so instead of a stab of sorrow, (M/N) merely felt emptiness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers used to bloom. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough of the drug left in his veins for him to ignore the pain in the left side of his body. That was where the bullet hit. His hands fumbled over the thick bandages encasing his ribs and he wondered what he was still doing here.

It wasn't him, the man kneeling before (M/N) on the square. He didn't pull the trigger. It was someone further back in the crowd. There was less a sense of penetration than the feeling that he had been struck with a sledgehammer. Everything after the moment of impact was confusion riddled with gunfire. He tried to sit up, but the only thing he managed was a pained groan.

The white curtain that divided his bed from the next patient's whipped back, and Neito Monoma stared down at him. At first (M/N) felt threatened, because Neito attacked him in the arena. He had to remind himself that it was to save his life. But still, that didn't mean Neito didn't despise him. Maybe Neito's treatment of him was all an act for the Capitol?

"I'm alive," (M/N) said rustily.

"No kidding, brainless." Neito walked over and plunked down on the bed, sending waves of pain shooting across (M/N)'s chest. When Neito grinned at his discomfort, (M/N) knew he wasn't in for some warm reunion scene. "Still a little sore?" With an expert hand, he quickly detached the morphling drip from (M/N)'s arm and plugged it into his own. "They started cutting back my supply a few days ago. Afraid I'm going to turn into one of those freaks from Six. I've had to borrow from you when the coast was clear. Didn't think you'd mind."

(M/N) didn't know how he could mind when Neito was almost tortured to death by Nezu after the Quarter Quell. He had no right to mind, and Neito knew that.

"Maybe they were onto something in Six. Drug yourself out and paint flowers on your body. Not such a bad life. Seemed happier than the rest of us, anyway. They've got this head doctor who comes around every day. Supposed to be helping me recover. Like some guy who's spent his life in this place is going to fix me up. Complete idiot. At least twenty times a session he reminds me that I'm totally safe." (M/N) managed a smile. It was a truly stupid thing to say, especially to a victor. As if such a state of being ever existed, anywhere, for anyone. "How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?"

"Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot," (M/N) said.

"Please. That bullet never even touched you. Keigo saw to that," Neito said.

(M/N) thought of the layers of protective armour in his Mockingjay outfit. But the pain came from somewhere. "Broken ribs?"

"Not even. Bruised pretty good. The impact ruptured your spleen. They couldn't repair it." Neito gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't worry, you don't need one. And if you did, I'm sure they'd find you one, wouldn't they? It's everybody's job to keep you alive."

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