Like A Movie

Pairing(s): Kyungsoo/Jongin

Summary: Win for me.

Tags: Major Character Death, Hunger Games AU, Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst

The birds echoed him, the notes hanging eerily in the air. Leaves rustled, branches swaying at the song was carried away by the wind.

He whistled again, ice slowly creeping in his veins when all that answered where the mockingjays in the trees and the wind ruffling his hair. The whole world held its breath when he called out, as loudly as he dared.

“Jongin?”

Not even the trees answered this time, the silence deafening.

Kyungsoo winced when his boots crunched on dead leaves, the wind picking up. The grass danced and swayed as he walked, calling Jongin’s name. The mockingjays picked up his call, singing Jongin’s name until a scream cut through his bones.

“Kyungsoo!”

Kyungsoo froze. His heart stopped when the scream came again, piercing and desperate and scared.

His footsteps had never been so loud, echoing in his ears as he sprinted through the trees, his blood roaring. Jongin screamed again, his terror freezing Kyungsoo’s blood.

His knife flew through the air before he quite realised what he had done, burying itself deep deep into the chest of the boy. Crimson spurted into the air, staining it with the metallic smell of blood.

The cannon boomed once, blasting his eardrums.

“Jongin.”

Kyungsoo’s breath caught when he saw him. There was a small patch of blood, slowly growing in size around the head of a spear.

“Jongin, no-.”

Before he could stop him, Jongin had one hand curled around the spear shaft, his expression blank. He did not even seem to be in pain as he pulled the weapon from his chest, the squelching of flesh and blood turning Kyungsoo’s stomach.

He caught him as he fell, hand pressed to the wound to stem the bleeding.

“Jongin, Jongin, stay awake,” he gasped.

Jongin lifted a hand to cup his cheek, the gesture feeble and weak. His hand was trembling, damp with sweat against Kyungsoo’s skin.

“Think of your brother,” Kyungsoo cried, desperate. “He’s waiting for you. You promised him you’d make it home, remember?”

Jongin’s lips curved into a smile, weak and pained.

“Tell- Junmyeon, I’m so- sorry,” he murmured, lashes fluttering. They cast shadows on his cheeks.

“No, no,” Kyungsoo said, cupping his cheek, “he’ll kill me, remember? He won the previous Games. He’s very capable of killing me.”

Jongin laughed and then choked, a thin stream of blood trickling out the corner of his mouth. Kyungsoo wiped it away with a trembling hand, bowing his head into the hollow of Jongin’s throat.

“I’m sorry, Soo,” Jongin whispered, his hand falling into Kyungsoo’s hair. “I- tried.”

“I know,” Kyungsoo answered, “I know. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

It was a mantra that he repeated over and over, unsure whether he was trying to convince himself or Jongin. Jongin’s fingers his hair, weak and feeble, crusted with blood. No doubt that Kyungsoo would find blood in his hair when he touched it.

But he could not find it in himself to care as he listened to Jongin’s breathing grow ever more laboured.

“Soo?”

Kyungsoo shushed him, his heart aching just hearing the amount of effort it took Jongin to speak. He lifted his head, a tear streaking down his face to plop onto Jongin’s cheek.

“I’ll be okay,” he said, kissing the corner of his lips.

There was blood on his mouth, the metallic taste turning his stomach. Jongin blinked up at him, his eyes going glassy. He tucked a ring into Kyungsoo's hand.

“Win for me,” he whispered.

Somewhere very far away in District Twelve, Kim Junmyeon would fall to his knees. Those very words had kept him alive, kept him going through his Games.

Every person who fell beneath his arrow died because of those words.

Now, those words would be his little brother’s last.

Jongin’s breathing had turned to gurgles. He was dying, choking on his own blood. But he kept his eyes open, even as the blood drowned him.

“Win for me, hyung.”

The words rang clear, louder than the cannon that boomed in his last moments. They would pierce every heart watching, break the people they were meant for.

Kyungsoo clung on for moments longer, his tears carving tracks through the dirt on Jongin’s cheek. 

He could not stay long. No doubt whichever pack Jongin’s killer belonged to would be searching for him already.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, storm clouds gathering far too quickly to be natural.

Rain pattered onto the blood-soaked grass, soaking into Kyungsoo’s clothes, into his hair. It washed the blood away like the Capitol was trying to clean up their mess, clean up Jongin’s last defiant act.

Kyungsoo closed Jongin’s eyes with a shaking hand, pressed one last kiss to his lips before rising to his feet.

He did not have time for grief now.

The chill cut into his bones as he ran, uncaring of his footprints in the mud. The rain would wash them away anyway.

He splashed into the water, ice chilling the blood in his legs as he crossed the river, half running and half crawling to the nearest cave.

The monsters always came out in the night. And in storms.

By the looks of it, this storm would be a big one. Punishment for Jongin’s last words, perhaps.

Rocks scratched at his hands as he piled them up at the entrance of the cave, a silver parachute fluttering into the small hole just in time.

In the darkness, Kyungsoo unslung his backpack, building a fire in record time.

The parachute gleamed in the firelight, the package heavy in his hands as he pulled apart the strings, gasping when the knives appeared one by one in the box.

Their blades were polished silver, perfectly balanced when he held them. A peculiar symbol was carved into their hilts, a ring with a silver tree.

Kyungsoo reached into the bottom of the box, pulling out a brass ring, just like the one Jongin had given him.

He turned it over and inhaled sharply.

Win for him.