May The Odds Be Ever In Our Favour {PurplePhone | Hunger Games}

Fifteen.

"I guess this is it, huh?" Vincent sighed.

Scott was still lying on Vincent's chest as the sun began to rise over the horizon. He'd slept for about an hour before waking up again, and he hadn't been able to sleep since then.

"Yeah," he replied, turning his head and burying his face into Vincent's shirt, taking a deep breath in of his scent. He never wanted to forget it. "I guess it is."

"Thank you for giving me one more night," Vincent's chest hummed when he talked, and Scott smiled against him.

"It's okay, Vincent," he left a kiss on Vincent's shirt, and then finally pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He sighed, looking around at the scenery, taking a deep breath of fresh air, hearing the mockingjays call out.

To think that today was the last day he'd ever be alive, ever experience the rushing sensation of living, of grass beneath his feet, or his heat beating in his chest, or even just the feeling of having another person close.

He wondered what it would be like when he died. Would he go somewhere? Or would the world just swirl away into an empty blackness? He hoped he still had his memories. Of all the things that terrified him of death, it was that perhaps, it would be like eternal non-existence, where you had no knowledge of ever having been alive in the first place. The thought alone made him shiver.

"Do you want to do it now?" Vincent asked softly, watching him cautiously, an almost sympathetic frown on his forehead, "Before you have time to panic about it?"

"Of course I don't," Scott gave a sad smile. "I want to put it off, and put it off, and put it off until we can't put it off any longer... But... you're right." He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Let's be honest with ourselves. Even if I lived another two days, the time would be spent sulking, and moping, and wishing that I didn't have to die. And for what purpose? I'm going to end up dead anyway. It's easier to just get you back to the Capitol safe, and finish these stupid Games once and for all."

Vincent sat up, leaning in and pressing his lips to Scott's. They both relaxed into the kiss, sighing contentedly, before Vincent pulled away, "I want you to know that I admire you. You're handling all of this so well, so bravely, better than I ever could. I would scream and cry and fight until the Gamemakers would have to come into the Arena and kill me themselves."

Scott laughed, just slightly, "I don't feel brave, Vincent." He sniffled, leaning into Vincent's arms. The world blurred and swirled as his eyes filled with tears. He fought them back with all his might, but they came anyway, splashing onto the back of Vincent's shirt. "I'm scared."

"Being brave isn't about not being scared," Vincent whispered, his arms weaving around the curve of Scott's back and pulling him into a warm embrace. "It's about being scared, and still doing the right thing."

"There's no such thing as the 'right thing' to do. Not in the Hunger Games," Scott squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink away the tears. He stayed in Vincent's arms for as long as he could, feeling the muscles under his shirt and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

Finally pulling away from Vincent and sitting on his heels, he wiped his teary eyes and sighed, "Geez, look at me, getting all emotional..." He was silent for a long time, looking down at the sleeping bag beneath him.

"Okay," he said finally. "Let's do it."

((Yeah, ik, I've made it a 16-chapter book, not 15-chapter like I planned. I decided I wanted the... I won't say death scene, but the 'final scene' to be its own chapter, not included with all the lead-up))