It's happening again, he can feel it. He can't seem to control his hand, and it just moves automatically to the back of his other arm, scratching. He doesn't do it on purpose, but it's not like he can stop it either. Eventually, he knows, he will be bleeding. But not yet, it hasn't been long enough yet.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Suddenly, another hand grabs his, pulling it away from his body. "Again? Really, Feitong?"

Feitong looks up into the eyes of his adoptive brother and smiles ashamedly. "I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I can't seem to control it."

Changsun hums, dropping his hand and leaning back in his seat. "I told you we should go see a doctor."

There's no way Feitong would go, not even if Changsun dragged him there. He only shakes his head again and sits on his hands, trying to focus on something other than the event about to take place.

Today is Reaping Day, the day where one boy -- well, it's only this year that it's one boy, next year it'll be a boy and a girl again -- will be taken to the Capitol and forced into the twisted Hunger Games. Reminder to stay united? More like entertainment for the rich.

Feitong may be cynical, but his life was ruined by the rich and those in power. His face contorts in a snarl just from thinking about it, and he quickly drops his expression. No, not here, not now. He needs to stay in control, needs to keep his mind together.

"District 5." The mayor, a short woman wearing three-inch high heels, smiles at the pool of boys waiting to be picked. "We welcome you here today..."

Everyone looks up at the mayor, but Feitong's attention's not on her. Instead, he's looking towards the man behind her. He's tall, with chestnut brown hair and soft features. Shin Hyesung. He won the Games about twenty years ago. Actually, now that Feitong thinks about it, he might have been the victor from the First Quarter Quell. He doesn't really know; everyone knows all the victors, but no one actually has enough courage to get to know them.

But Feitong's first memory is of the 25th Hunger Games. He's almost sure he remembers seeing Hyesung on the screen, teeth gritted in an effort to protect himself as the bloodbath goes on around him. In the end, he used the force field surrounding the Arena to electrocute the last tributes to death. Feitong remembers it; it used to give him nightmares, when he was still a kid.

Now, something else gives him nightmares.

And in any case, he probably remembered wrong. Now that he does the math, his first memory should have been either the 27th or 28th Games, unless he can remember stuff from when he was a baby. The logic doesn't add up, but it's not important anyways.

Feitong's hands have almost fallen asleep, and he pulls them out from under his legs. He's much less nervous now, and his hands have stopped shaking. That much is good. What's not good is Hyesung stepping up to the microphone and announcing the tribute as "Yang Feitong."

Oh, no.

Feitong can feel his body trembling, and beside him, Changsun has put his head into his hands. He's not going to volunteer, he's not going to volunteer, but Feitong wants him to. Some selfish, monstrous part of his mind wants Changsun to sacrifice his life in order to protect him, even though he's already sacrificed so much, and Feitong knows he won't do it.

Blood brothers wouldn't do it, so why would adoptive ones?

"Yang Feitong," Hyesung calls again, and Feitong rises. He almost falls to the ground with how unsteady his legs feel, but he retains just enough strength to move towards the stage.

His mind feels fogged over, as if he's looking at everything through a mist, and unbidden, his hands begin to move. Tearing at his clothes, scratching at his skin, pulling at his hair. No, not him, why him, hasn't enough already happened to him? He's vaguely aware of the audience clapping, but all he can see is blood, ever-growing pools of blood, two of them, spread out on the square in front of him, and two figures, a man and a woman, lying in the blood. 

And in the distance, a little boy watches.

Feitong, the boy whispers, raising his head. Feitong, I know you're watching.

"Come on, let's go."

Suddenly, Feitong snaps back to reality with a gasp, and Hyesung backs away. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he says with a small laugh, and Feitong finds himself walking down a carpeted hallway. "You'll be seeing your family and friends now, and then we'll get on the train, alright?"

"W-wait--"

But the doors slam shut in front of his face, and Feitong is alone again. No, no, this can't be happening, he can't be alone, it's worse when he's alone--

"Feitong!"

Changsun barrels through the door, gathering Feitong into his arms. "Dude, I'm so sorry, I should have volunteered, I'm so sorry..."

Behind him, Changsun's parents -- Feitong's adoptive ones -- hurry towards him as well, tears in their eyes as they try not to break down. Feitong brings up a hand, one to rest on Changsun's back, one to reach out to his parents.

"Don't be, I'm probably better off than you in there." He tries to joke, but the words come out cold and flat. "I mean, I'm an engineer, man. I know how to work the electricity."

His mother lets out a small sob. "This was your last year too!" she cries, burying her face in her husband's chest. "One more year, and you would have..."

Been safe. Feitong hurries to comfort her. "Sometimes, fate just works like this. The Capitol killed my parents, and now I'll get to avenge them. It's okay, it'll work out. I'll be fine."

No one mentions the fact that it was District 1 who killed his parents.

uwu feitong was a tough boy to write but i like his dynamic and he's interesante~~~