til death do us part }} beck x lys

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

L Y S A N D E R.

The ring of the bright lights were still burned into her eyes, but everything else was a blur.

The crowd, the questions, her answers. The only thing she was seemingly aware of was the camera constantly in her face and the presence of Beck’s warm fingers laced with hers. The Games had just reached top twelve, District Four had one tribute left, and somehow miraculously, District Five still had two.

”So Lysander, how have you done it?’

The question played on repeat in her head. They should be asking Patricia, not her, she was barely sober enough to even comprehend what was going on. The half empty bottle on her desk stared at her this morning, but she promised her agent that she would behave, and she managed to make the rehearsed answer sound convincing.

The interview concluded and she gripped Beck’s hand even tighter as they walked off the stage, scared that if she let go she would never be able to find him again. All Lysander wanted was a drink and her bed, but the PR team insisted it would be good publicity for them to be seen in public together. Before either of them had a chance to object, they were being shoved out the door with a picnic basket filled to the brim in her hands.

Beck was laying out the red checkered blanket as Lysander looked around. The area their team picked out was their idea of perfect. A place in the park private enough where the two could talk in peace, but also public enough where they can be found by adoring fans and paparazzi. Guards were strategically placed in a perimeter around them so no one could get in.

And so they couldn’t get out.

He motioned for her to sit on the neatly placed blanket and Lysander did so as graciously as her awkward limbs would allow her, aware of the sound of clicking cameras the whole time.

”Sickening isn’t it?” she said with a slight laugh.

But still she searched the basket until she found the bottle of champagne hidden at the bottom. She poured herself a full glass and took a large gulp. It did the trick, but she was going to need something a bit stronger if she had any intentions of making it through this date.

”So, how do you feel about...all of this?” The games, their situation, their expectations. Any of it, all of it, she didn’t know. Her emotions run rampant and the only thing that subdues them is the sweet burn of liquor on her lips. However, there was one thing she was certain of.

Lysander wouldn’t make it through any of this without Beck.

Even though they won, somehow they both managed to still lose.

table by kaitlin

[ᴥ]

B E C K .

y o u  s h o u l d n ' t  w a s t e  a  p r e t t y  f a c e

Slowly but surely he’s watched her unravel. Thread by frayed thread Lysander Mae has torn herself to pieces and begged him more than once to pick up the needle and start sewing her back together. He’d come to love her with a knife against his throat, though in recent months he’s realized he doesn’t need the cold kiss of steel to admit he cares for her. No, he can feel it in the way his chest starts aching whenever he finds her like this.

In some ways he’s grateful for it. She makes it easy not to worry about anything else. Her fingers squeeze his too tight and he recognizes the agony behind the gesture so he squeezes back. Beck refuses to answer any interview questions so they move on from him quickly, eager to sing the praises of more agreeable victors. ”It’s okay.” He lies through clenched teeth, running his thumb over the back of Lysander’s hand because it’s supposed to be a comforting gesture.

And sure, it’s performative but that’s the only affection he’s ever known how to give.

Lysander is halfway through a blackout by the time they reach the filming location. A completely organic picnic date in the middle of an open field, with just enough natural lighting that it’s for a perfect photo-op. The expensive blanket he spreads beneath them still manages to be dreadfully uncomfortable. He’s scowling at the gaudy fabric when she speaks, ”Sickening isn’t it?”

”Cliché, maybe. But I don’t want to throw up yet.” He still hasn’t looked up, he knows exactly what she’s looking for at the bottom of that basket. Beck can’t bring himself to watch her kill herself. It’s a personal matter that’s definitely not any of his business.

He loves Lysander in a different way than he loves the others. It’s not playful like with Nico and Mackenzie – where he’s the one pushing to see just how far they’ll watch him fall. It’s not painful like it was loving Enzo, the kind that consumed his every waking second until he cut off that part of his heart completely. It’s deeper than it was with Sophie, it’s had years to mature.

Beck wants to help her, but knows it’s not his place. Even though he loves her he doesn’t love her enough.

So instead he swipes the champagne bottle from her hands and drinks just a deeply.

”Why do you ask? Planning to propose?” His laugh tastes bitter, in sharp contrast to sweet champagne,

He lays his head in her lap, wincing at the sound of camera shutters clicking. Affection is not allowed to be genuine, they’ve never been able to seek comfort from one another under the weight of the Capitol’s gaze. Who knows if they’d have even become friends without it? ”I think it’s something we have to do and I think there are worse people to be stuck doing it with.”

He grins up at her, only managing to hold it on his lips for a couple seconds before his expression melts into something uneasy, ”We’re friends for as long as you’ll have me. What else do you need to know?”

[elegant]