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

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Vincent spat a goop of mashed up leaves into his hand, grimacing. He pinched a little bit of it between his fingers, and lifted up his shirt, wiping it over his stomach.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked. His voice was tinged with the slightest disgust, but was also eerily despondent. He seemed to have gone into a slight state of emotional numbness. Blocking out whatever was to come.  

Vincent looked up, "We got these leaves in one of the sponsor capsules. I just wanted to test them on myself before you - make sure they're what I think they are." He poked himself in the stomach, "Completely anesthetised. I can't feel a thing. Now I'll do the same to you. Lift up your shirt."

Scott shook his head, "I don't need it. I'm not having your spit wiped all over my stomach."

"You've had my spit in your mouth," Vincent reminded him, "And swallowed it. I think you can deal with this."

Scott fell silent, going a slight shade of ashen grey. "When you put it like that..." He sighed, pulling up his shirt. "Okay, okay. Do what you will."

"Thank you," Vincent leaned forward, swiping some of the greenish paste just under Scott's bellybutton. "That's where I'm going to do it..." He said it as though he were talking about the weather. "So you don't have to see it."

Scott nodded, dropping his shirt once again and letting out a deep breath, "Listen. Let's quit the talk. Just do it fast, please. I just want it all to be over."

Vincent pulled out his knife, staring down at the hilt of it. "I never thought about how terrible this thing is. It's killed so many. It's taken so many people away from their families, and now it's going to take you away from me."

Scott reached out, his hands clasping over Vincent's, "Hey..." his voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. "Vincent, I want you to know: it's okay. I give you permission to take my life. It's not murder, and it's not suicide. It's... setting us free."

"Setting us free, huh?" Vincent looked up and met Scott's eyes for what he realised was one of the last times he'd ever see them. He smiled just a little. "I'm going to miss those beautiful eyes. I'm going to miss your humour, your strength, your defiance, and yes, even your sarcasm. I'm going to miss the way you looked at me after I kissed you for the first time. I'm going to miss the way you sang last night... the way you fell asleep on my chest, listening to my heartbeat... I'm going to miss you so much."

Scott's eyes filled with tears the more Vincent spoke. When he'd finished, Scott could only nod fervently. He opened his mouth to say something, but only ended up choking over his words, before the last floodgate opened, and he broke down into sobs, "I-I'm gon-gonna mis-s you to-o..."

Vincent stepped forward, ushering the smaller teenager into his arms. The second Scott fell into him, Vincent clasped him closer than ever before, feeling the skinny boy's ribs heaving and jolting as he cried into his chest. Only fourteen. Only fourteen years old and here he was, having to come to terms with his own death. And it was nothing compared to the pain that was probably to come. Deep in his soul, deeper than the need to win the games, deeper even than his own will for survival, Vincent prayed that one day, Scott would forgive him for what he had to do.

Vincent pulled away from the hug, his left hand reaching up to wipe the tears from Scott's face, the right hand clutching the dagger tightly. "Kiss me."

Scott raised his hand to lie on the top of Vincent's, he turned his head to kiss the palm of Vincent's hand before turning back to look at him. He shook his head lightly, "No... I want... I want to be looking at you while you do it."

"Please," Vincent caressed Scott's cheek, down his jawline, "Kiss me. I don't want our last memory to just be slaughter. If this is my last memory with you, I want it to be a memory of the way you taste, the way your lips move... I want it to be a memory of everything that we've made together, and everything that we're sacrificing for each other. I won't be able to bring myself to do it otherwise."