Currently untitled Hunger Games fanfic

Chapter One: Because I think you'd be better off without me

"I want to see the world." I said to Cyrus.

"I know," he replied, spooning some watery soup into his mouth.

"I want to see Panem without all the badness. With all the Districts equal and no Hunger Games."

Cyrus frowned at me. "Theo, you know that will never happen."

"Yes," I replied. "I know that. But that doesn't mean I can't dream."

"You can dream all you want after you finish your soup."

I stared down at my bowl of soup. I hadn't eaten any of it.

"Sorry, habit." I said, trying to pull a smile and failing.

"Theo." Cyrus scolded me. We both knew why I had this habit, and both of us avoided the topic.

"Yeah, yeah," I sighed. "I'm working on it."

"Good."

I made an exaggerated scooping motion with my spoon, slurping the soup loudly. That got a small smile out of Cyrus. He hadn't smiled at all this week.

"Cyrus...." I started, not sure what to say.

"Theo, it's fine. If you're Reaped I'll volunteer for you."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Don't do that. You don't need to sacrifice yourself for me anymore."

"But..." he said.

"No, Cyrus. I mean it. You've done so much for me, I can handle myself now."

"I believe you can handle yourself, but I don't think you could win the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games, Theo."

He had a point. I wouldn't stand a chance in the Hunger Games.

"Promise me you won't volunteer for me." I said seriously.

Cyrus looked away from me, not replying. I reached over, putting my hand over his. "Promise me, Cyrus."

He sighed. "I promise."

I let out a breath I hadn't noticed I was holding.

"Now," Cyrus said, drawing my attention back to him. "Eat. Then you have to sleep tonight. No pulling another all nighter."

I smiled at the tone he used. Like he was my older brother. I missed how he used to act, before everything was about survival.

"I'll try." I promised.

He crossed his arms. "You better."

***

It was the night before the Reaping and I couldn't sleep. Obviously.

I felt like I'd touched the electric fence that circled District Twelve, energy coursing through my veins.

My brain was filled with every 'what if' that could happen.

What if I'm Reaped?

What if Cyrus volunteers for me?

What if Cyrus is Reaped?

The endless spiral of thoughts I didn't want to hear swamped me. Just like most nights.

Cyrus slept like a rock, snoring gently next to me.

We had slept in the same beat up bed for the last five years, Cyrus always on the right side, me on the left. I had on many occasions said I could sleep on the floor only to be shot down immediately.

The thought of shooting brought me into another round of 'What Thought Disturbs Theo the Most?'.

My brain, my awful, terrible brain, showed me images of Cyrus being killed in the Hunger Games, and there was nothing I could do but watch. Different versions of his death flitted before my eyes, like a slideshow of gore and violence.

At some point I started crying, overwhelmed by the thoughts of what could be.

I tried to be quiet, but I couldn't stop it.

And then he woke up.

"Theo?" Cyrus said, turning to see me sat up in bed. "Are you okay?"

"Not really." I sniffled.

He sat up, moving closer to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." I repeated.

"Okay." Cyrus said, not pushing me to talk. He put his arm around me, pulling me into a hug.

"I'll protect you." he said into my hair.

"I'll kill them all for you." I replied, wiping away my tears.

"I love you, Theo. Don't ever forget it." He pulled me closer, hugging me tight.

"I love you too."

"Now, go to sleep."

"Yes, dad." I joked, but I felt hollow inside. The happiness I had felt just a moment ago gone.

Cyrus laughed and lied down again.

As he drifted off to sleep I whispered "and happy Hunger Games..."

There was a moment of silence before Cyrus replied. "And may the odds be ever in your favor..."

We laughed then, like tomorrow wasn't The Reaping.

Like life was good.

Like I hadn't been abandoned as a child.

Like Cyrus's parents hadn't died when he was nine.

Like we hadn't done terrible things to survive.

And in that moment, I could believe everything would be okay.

***

I woke up to Cyrus staring down at me.

"What the-" I cried, then fell off my side of the bed and onto the floor.

Cyrus leaned over the bed, still staring at me. He held a length of bandages in his hands.

I swallowed thickly, knowing what he was about to say.

"Theo."

"Yes, Cyrus?" I said, trying to act innocent.

"I told you not to do it. I told you." His voice was stern and he glared down at me.

"I know," I sighed. "But I had to."

Cyrus sat down on the bed, sighing deeply. "It's not good for your ribs. Or your lungs."

"Yeah, I know."

He looked away for a moment, silent.

"Cyrus?" I asked, getting up from the floor, reaching for his arm. "I'm sorry."

When he turned back to me, he was crying. "Why do you do it, Theo? Why do you do things that are bad for you? Why?"

"Because..." I tried to think of the right words. "Because I think you'd be better off without me, and this is how I punish myself."

"Oh, Theo." Cyrus said before reaching to hug me. "I'm not better off without you. Truthfully, you're the best thing that's happened to me."

I know he was truthful, but my brain told me he was lying. Even though it had been more than four years since what happened, I still can't trust what people say.

Actions speak more than words. Someone will tell you 'I love you' then will hit you.

"I know," I lied.

"Good." Cyrus said before letting go from me.

I pursued my lips. "Can I have them for today? Please? You can burn it tomorrow."

Cyrus nodded. "Just for today, after that, never."

"Yes, Doctor Rosefall." I teased.

He just smiled then left the room to get dressed.