to be near you for awhile | flynn [93rd]

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

The Bloodbath.




In this shirt, I can be you
To be near you for a while

Peacekeepers had to usher me from the last point where I had to say goodbye to Johnny. A beige endless corridor with a dulling light. I can still feel his fingers sliding away from mine, now I am sitting on my bed with the shirt he wore on the train beside me. The strong sweaty stench has faded but it still smells like him. Hopefully he does not know I kept it, probably a weird thing to do but it is kind of comfort. I still have a part of him here with me. With this shirt, I can be near him for a while. Until he…until he comes back home to me…

”The bloodbath is beginning Flynn, you need to come out.” I can say they have been kind not to force me to endure all of this in public, back to the welcoming scene of the District Six apartment and there is not a bottle of red wine in site. The escort is not here, just Teddy and stylists on the cream couches sat around the television as the countdown begins. Watching this between my fingers will probably be the best bet, being in the presence of a television during the live broadcast should at least satisfy the Capitol’s desire to force me to possibly watch the death of my own boyfriend.

I just slump into the singular arm chair, sat at an obscure angle of the television. About a quarter of the screen is barely viewable, hopefully if anything happens it will be in that space.

The final strike of the countdown always sends the same shiver through my chest, this time it clings to every inch of my body. A feeling worse than the times I sat and watched Quinn and Aurora’s attempts at the bloodbath.

Oh, I cannot bare this. I fling my head back into chair, hands fully covering my face and my ears listening for any mentions of Johnny’s name from the commentator.

It sounds like a few have fled already. Not Johnny though. Supposedly Johnny tries to hit the girl from Eight but misses.

Sounds like another handful of tributes have the brains to get out of there. Not Johnny though. Supposedly Johnny knocks over Steele Cassidy from District One!

Now it sounds like some tributes have picked up weapons and then fled the scene. Not Johnny though. Supposedly Johnny picks up a spear and stabs the boy from Eight.

There are not many tributes left now, an alliance eyeing the wealth with just two tributes in their way. One is Johnny.

I pull my hands from my face, pushing myself from the seat and in front of the television blocking everyone else’s view. ”You have everything you need! Just fucking run!” I plead with the television, the camera is focused on Johnny as the District Eleven tribute blocks his attempts with the spear. ”GET OUT OF THERE JOHNNY!” As if he is actually listening for once, the camera follows him as senses seem to have been sought. Out he finally goes. Camera zoomed in on him and Karl from Eleven. Then a shot of two holding hands… I had a friend in Nanette Carter, I guess he will need friends too if he is to get out of this. That is my thought anyway. Yeah, I did lecture him on finding allies, at least he has listened to that. Just allies. Arena allies.

I sink back into the armchair; I cannot exhale yet. This is far from over. My pounding heart has not eased since the clock hit zero. ” Everyone is still alive. There is still a lot to come.” A lot that I am unsure I can endure.

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day One.




There's a pain,
It does ripple.

My face sinks into the memory foam pillow. No level of comfort will cure rattling sense of doom that has planted its side effects onto my body. It is hard to describe my symptoms. It is like I am constantly on the verge of having a complete meltdown. Maybe a good cry will help ease the numbing feeling on my cheeks and the nauseas sensation at the back of my throat. The memory foam pillow will be the only thing to absorb my emotions, it seems I am alone in all of this right now. Not a shoulder or a hug in sight…

My mother’s maternal instincts seem non-existent and now my father is distracted with his new mayoral position. Sisters and friends that are too far away. And where is Teddy Ursa? That seems to be a question that is on repeat. I guess I am becoming more of a burden than a neighbour to that man.

I know sulking in my bed for the next week will be no use to Johnny, there are potential sponsors lined up and more need to be persuaded. A busy mind is a distracted one but stepping out of this room where a television is playing on repeat for twenty-four hours a day makes me instantly fear that I will witness the wrong moment on that screen. Even listening to the commentary from the lips of capitolites who analyze their favourite tributes makes me curl my fists, especially any that doubt Johnny.

There is a thud on the door. Silence. Then another thud. ”They are showing a special on the wealth and Amaterasu. They want to interview the mentors of the bloodbath winners.” I answer with silence but the knocking is persistent from the escort, at least they have the courtesy of not flinging the door open. ”They can interview Teddy.” Hopefully my muffled words are loud enough, my face is still pressed against the pillow. ”At least come out and show your face, they are only doing the interview in the apartment so you don’t have to go anywhere far.” Well how accommodating of them but I doubt even the stylists can tame my hair and dire tear stained face.

”It is not optional Mr Garner.” It never is, the torment from the Capitol. People were dying at home from the plague, and they forced me to stay here and give stupid press conferences. The year after Aurora died in the bloodbath, they forced me to watch it in public so I wouldn’t ’have a meltdown.’ Now they know I struggling with Johnny being in the arena and they force me to do useless interviews.

I drag myself from the bed before they drag me out of it. Pushing open the door and trying not to take a peek at the television but rather into the face of Star the escort. There are very few faces in this world that I imagine to be a perfect punch bag. Six years I have had to work with Star and they will never not be irritating. I am just glad I am half deaf as their voice sends daggers into my good ear most of the time. ”I may have been telling a few lies. There is no interview but you need to come out and watch this.”

I could just test out the punch bag theory right now but being locked up in a Capitol holding cell for assaulting an official is not the place for me to be right now. Instead I just spin around, heading back towards my bedroom but the escort grabs my shoulder. ”Johnny is fine. He did fall over in the stream because of bamboo but since then has been conversing with a lot of tributes, some not even his allies. He needs to watch his back.” The escort needs to watch their back too. ”I just thought you would want an update, Amaterasu is fine too. Though there have been no cannons yet. Maybe you can watch the pre-recordings later?”

I do not say thank you. They may think they are doing me a favour, maybe even trying to reassure me but we should not be here. None of this should be happening. I will sulk tonight and try again in the morning. Try again for Johnny.

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day Two.




There's a thorn in my side
It's the shame, it's the pride

”I just want to send a message.”

”You can’t just send a message, there needs to be an item.”

”Paper is an item.”

The escort looks up from their hand mirror with the familiar look of disapproval that distracts them from their hourly tending to their eyelashes, eyebrows and whatever the hell they use that mirror for.

”Okay, I will put the message in a first aid kit then.”

”No, a medical kit cannot be sponsored these games.”

I am punching a brick wall right now. Years of being a spoilt kid are not helping either, I have not been getting my own way with anyone at all this week. It seems the world is really against me at the moment, slamming doors shut in my face and swiping what I love from my grip. Just one simple message to Johnny about watching his back. While the allies he has picked will seem strong, their intentions seem to be zip locked from the screen. I cannot trust them. Maybe Calamity at a push but the other two seem like strays, they will either abandon Johnny or stick their weapons into him and I better warn him before the latter happens.

Except this bitch who is pruning their brows in front of me in the District Six apartment seems unbothered. Well fuck that, their attention should be on me and the tributes right now, not their ghastly face.

One swift swipe of my hand and the mirror is gone from their grip and into my own. Sometimes it is easy to push Star, they are taught politics but nothing like standing up for themselves and a little common sense.

Maybe they should start watching their backs now that they have to work with people that have literally killed and trained to be killed. Not that I have picked up a gun since dropping the last one next to Lenox LaChance’s body. A capitolite has sent me a fake metal revolver and a leather holster belt with an invitation for a photoshoot. I have kindly declined the invitation, the excuse of being ill, and the remaining anxieties about District Six and the plague have stopped them from pestering me further. The gun and holster are hung up in my bedroom, they will still be there when I leave.

”I will send this.” I say, holding up the newly won silver mirror.

”No, that is mine!”

”Not anymore, it is Johnny’s now.”

It took some persuasion and realization that Star is not short on mirrors, they were literally carrying a spare. The message is sent and now I am back in front of the television screen watching day two unfold. Everything just seems to happen so quickly, even through the view of my fingers. I am in the usual armchair, knees up to my chin and barely peeking through my hands. The newly fitted hearing aid on the left of my head buzzes. For years I have managed without any aid after having my ear shot off in the arena but the audiologists says it comes with age and the lack of an actual ear, I guess being nineteen is old now.

Brennan is swift with his katana and the only ally of Johnny’s that I trust is down on the ground. Then the long overdue cannon sounds. ”Fuck, that was quick!” Joy lapses over Star’s face and at least Teddy looks as concerned as I do, the only other one here with a little bit of common sense. Both of our tributes clashing but they all have some sense just to leave after the first falls. I push my head against the back of the leather chair as the broadcast flicks to the next tribute fight, even through the buzzing ear, the second cannon makes me flinch. One glimpse at the screen and there is no Johnny to be seen. Thank ripred.

Day Two is always a long day, especially while so many are still walking in the arena.

I must have fallen asleep on the chair, mumbling from Star jolts me straight up. How the fuck am I able to sleep while there is still so much activity in the arena? I cannot even sleep at night in my own bed. An overactive brain is to blame for that and the ever so kind attack of anxiety.

An ember glow captures the screen, Johnny and his allies sat by it passing around a bottle. ”What are they doing, they are literally telling everyone in the arena where they are?” Of course it is Star who tells me about the funeral and goes into wincing detail on how Johnny pulled out Calamity’s heart. I wonder how he learnt how to do that…

The camera focuses on Johnny and Karl. They were playing re-runs of that guy kissing Dyno Moreno yesterday, not a threat then at least…

Everything slows down, two guys just sat next to each other with a bottle.

Two guys getting closer.

And closer. That is my Johnny.

A hand moves onto Johnny’s knee.

And – the camera cuts to another group of tributes.

”What the fuck was happening there?” I am straight up onto my feet, stood in front of the television screen and blocking everyone’s view. ”What were – what was Johnny doing?” I turn round, looking at Teddy for some kind of support for once as the tears march down my cheeks. ”It has only been two days! Two days!”

Back to the discomfort of the bed, face planted into the pillow and the door slamming shut behind so that nobody follows. Am I really wasting myself away for nothing right now? Please Johnny, say it isn’t so!

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Night Two.




All these things that we were
I awake in the night

No, it cannot be. Just a trick of the cameras I am sure of it. Johnny has kept so many secrets yet I am no better either, I literally kept him a secret for so long, It took him getting reaped for even my family to find out about him. No, it cannot be. But that Karl has been passing around his lips like a plague, there is a reputation building around that District Eleven tribute. No, it cannot be and there is only one way to find out. The cameras must have kept rolling.

Maybe I can march up to the gamemaker’s headquarters or the broadcasting house and demand the footage but how likely are they to abide by my requests? It is not like anyone else has done this past week and how likely are they to agree to speak to me in the middle of the night? Unlikely but there is no way I can sleep tonight, not while questions rage inside of my head.

I have done laps of my bedroom, round the bed and back round again. Am I being too distrustful? Maybe it was just nothing, just two allies mourning the loss of their friend. That is why they cut the camera, because nothing was happening. I cannot settle for just thinking like that. I need the answers. I need to see for myself.

I pull a grey jacket that is hooked on my door, the leather holster with the prop gun falls to the floor from beneath it.

What exactly am I meant to do with that? Why am I even looking at it? Why am I even picking it up? Why have I just strapped it to my waist? Dear god, it is literally just a few seconds of footage. But nobody has been helping me…

I swing on the jacket and step out of the door. I must have been a little too loud, the ever-welcoming face of Star is stood in the darkened apartment, the television screen still playing the events of the night in the arena. What a perfect face to see right now…not. I am pretty sure they have their own apartment to sleep in, why are they still here?

”Where are you going Flynn?”

”Out.”

”The Capitol thinks you are ill, you can’t be going out and what is that on your hip?” The escort points down and my eyes follow, the prop gun not so discreet on my hip. I put my hand over it. Then my hand moves to the handle. Then it pulls the gun out the holster. Then it points the gun up at Star. The fuck am I doing?

”I know that is not a real gun Flynn, what are you doing?”

”You don’t want me turning up at the gamemakers headquarters with this do you? It is your reputation too as escort, not containing the ones you are escorting!”

”I have no idea what you want Flynn, just tell me and I can help you!” They are sounding a bit desperate now, not as desperate as what I look like right now though. ”You can’t help me, nobody has been helping me!” Now the prop drops to the ground and I follow with it too. Collapsing to my knees. As if I am having another breakdown in front of Star of all people. ”Just tell me!” They say, coming closer to me and showing the first sign of comfort they have ever given to me as a hand is placed on my back. ”I just want to know what happened between Johnny and Karl after the camera cut.” My words break through the tears and gasps of air. I am a blubbering mess for a boy I have known for barely a year. A boy with so many secrets but the boy who has lassoed my heart. ”Oh, nothing happened. Johnny brushed Karl away, don’t you worry about that!”

”I want to see for myself, you could be lying to me!” Star moves away from me, disappearing for a moment and leaving me still sitting on the rug in the middle of the apartment’s living area. The escort comes back with a small tablet device in their hand that they tap at. ”Look!” Star shoves the screen in front of me on the ground, the scene plays through again but at the moment where the camera cut earlier Johnny pushes a bottle between himself and the District Eleven. That is, it. These are my answers. I can breathe.

”Were you really going to show up at the gamemaker’s headquarters with that gun replica? What were you thinking?”

”I wasn’t thinking.”

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day Three - Part One.




To the depths of the soil
Buried deep in the ground

It is hard to admire the sunrise that seeps through the cracks of the window’s blinds and captures the ceiling that I have been staring at for the past hour or maybe two. A flooded mind, it is becoming hard to pick out anything that makes sense inside of my head right now. Why has the thought of losing Johnny sent me into such a frenzy? He has not the first I have lost.

I did stain the relationship with Star after Aurora died, an outburst that sent a glass of red wine to spoil the escort’s dress.

I did completely disappear after my cousin Quinn died. Sometimes I can’t even remember what I did, other than watching the waves in District Four.

I did volunteer for the games after Tommy died. Not that I knew he was dead by then, but Tommy Lindy’s death has been a catalyst for my demise.

Now just the thought of losing someone so close to me has nearly made me Panem’s most wanted. Someone I am so premature in a relationship with. It is not fair. None of it is fair and nobody is helping me. It is just me and these four walls to bang my head against.

Finally I peel my eyes from the ceiling, the room suddenly at its brightest this morning, I look over to the door where I left the prop gun hanging after last night’s embarrassment. It is not there… I scramble up onto my feet, still wearing the same clothes as the day before. I have never been one to lack on personal hygiene but it seems to something low on my priorities right now. I stand at the door, bending down to look under the double bed in my room hoping the prop may have found itself under there. Nope, no sight of it. Maybe I left it in the living area.

I push down on the door handle. Twice. Three times. I have been locked in!

I keep rattling the handle while kicking the bottom of the door with the toe of the shoes that have not left my feet for two days. ”Has someone locked me in?” I call out, hoping at least Teddy is awake right now.

”Yes we have.” Fucking Star’s voice, does that asshole never leave the apartment?

”What the fuck, why?”

”You gave me the reason why yesterday, it is not just your reputation on the line.”

”You can’t keep me locked in here. People will ask questions!” I still yank at the door handle but my weak ass arms are no match for the Capitol built fire door. Not even my feet can leave a dent in the base, my toes are beginning to burn with the kicking.

”The Capitol believes that you are sick so there will be no questions.”

”Teddy, you can’t agree with this?”

Silence. Of course, fucking silence.

”How am I meant to watch the games? How will Johnny – and Amaterasu get sponsorships?”

”There is a holographic television on your nightstand. Sponsorships are being handled and food, do you remember what food is? Will be delivered to your door 3 times a day. Breakfast will be ready in a half hour.”

”You can’t keep me locked in here all the time, you fuckers!”

There is no response as I begin to sob at the edge of my bed. A cry for help has been left unanswered and now I am being treated like a prisoner. Fuck them all and fuck Star’s reputation, that door is coming down before the day ends.

I was not able to save Tommy, Aurora or Quinn.

But I will do anything,

Go anywhere.

And knock down anyone,

to save Johnny.

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day Three - Part Two.




And this touch must be wanting
Must become through your ask

Johnny’s ally is dying. I am sitting on the bed, my knees tight against my chest and my arms wrapped around them as the scenes unfold on the television beside me. I have done my best to keep quiet and not shout at the broadcast. Star for sure is trying to find a way to diagnose me with some sort of insanities and I do not want to hand deliver the symptoms to her. Dyno Moreno fills me with some kind of ick, an unruly career that needs dispatching before he sets off a wildfire in the arena. Johnny’s attempts to slay the beast are admirable but when he first started punching with those stupid num-chuks, that is the point where I had to restrain myself from flinging the holographic device across the room.

For once my eyes are set on the screen, a tiny voice in my head shouts out instructions to Johnny and even Karl and Yael to dodge the jabs from the career pact. But the inevitable happens, the final blow from that irritable District One career marks a fin, against this fight. A small part of me mourns the loss of Johnny’s ally but the bigger part is filled with relief that he is still standing. I lost Langley and Revan early in the games but had Nanette by my side. Johnny has...Karl.

Johnny and Karl remain besides Yael. The editing on this scene is well put for once, the focus on the final last words from the fallen one. Curse words to the beast that slayed them. ”Yes Yael, tell that asshole!” Dyno looks reluctant to move, signing off with another monologue and…a kiss on Johnny’s cheek??? ”Oh fuck you Dyno Moreno!” I shout at the television, Star probably has her ear to the door right now. Jealousy rages on inside of me, Dyno cannot be the last one to have kissed Johnny. Fuck! It should be my lips.

I throw my head against the pillow as the fight seemingly ends and Johnny lives for another day. It is hard to finally relax for once but every second Johnny is in that arena, he will be walking along the edge line the entire time. Just because one fight is over does not mean another will unfold in just a moment’s time. Breakfast and lunch sit waiting to be consumed on the floor near the door. Porridge oats that now look solid after being ignored for hours and a seafood salad that is igniting my room with an irritating aroma.

A commotion breaks the silence outside my door, it is the first time I have heard Teddy’s voice in days. ” You don’t get to fucking decide what he needs! You’re insane, Star.” Well at least someone is fighting my side but the old victor is a few days too late…

”I-I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have left you here with her.” His voice sounds nearer, he must be stood by the door actually talking to me. I do not move from the bed, instead just looking at the plain white door that blocks me from the world. ”You are too late for apologies. I needed help days ago.” I unfold my legs, resting the back of my head against the bed’s headboard.

"You're right. It's too little too late. I-I'm not great at this part. I needed help too back then. I don't have all the answers you want or need. But, I'm here." I just want to be alone right now but I know that I need someone near me. Someone to listen to me. Someone to soak up my emotions. The one person who knows the slightest of what I am feeling right now is standing behind that door. "I'll always be here for you. Star... she...." And he sounds just as broken as I do.

"No. No excuses. I'm here and I'm sorry."

“Well get me out of here then.”

It sounds the most simplest of resolutions, Star cannot overpower the pair of us, unless someone else had written the order to keep me locked in here.

"I will. I promise." I am waiting. Open the door Teddy.

"Have I told you what it was like with Parson?" That moustache wearing douchebag with the irritating daughter that likes to play knock a door run on my house. I know of their history but not the fine details. Today is not the time for storytelling, I just want out of here!

Some days, I still feel like that guy who locked himself away. Trapped myself in a room scared of who I would lose next." Please open the door Teddy.

Just... sorry... I know it's different. Maybe it's more like Chester..."

Teddy, open the door.

"I still dream about him. Every so often, It's almost like I can feel him holding me at night still. You have a chance. Just..." Open the door!

My hands tug at the dark curls at the top of my head. I know he is trying to relate to me, to comfort me but recollection is not what I need right now. I need a distraction and I need out of here. . "don't lose faith in him. The arena changes people, but don't let it change whatever you and Johnny have."

”I won’t.” Nothing will change what is between us. Not when every part of me is just consumed by thoughts of Johnny Scaletta. I have taken the time when he shunned me for not thinking about him while we were making out quite literally. Nothing will vacate Johnny from his mind. It is his charisma and flirtatiousness that has cast a spell on me. Whenever I see him on the television, I want to grab hold of his hand. Push away any Karl Jardens and Dyno Moreno because he is mine!

"Good. He needs you more than ever now." There is a shuffling sound outside the door that pulls me from my trance of Johnny. "Let's try to get this door open. I think we should send him a reminder of what he's fighting for."

“You go and get this door open and I will wait here…” I stand up from the bed, wanting to bolt out the door as soon as Teddy flings it open.

"What the fuck? STAR! WHAT DID YOU DO!" There is another commotion outside the door as I cross my arms. They have probably barricaded me in…

"Stand back." The thought of Teddy body slamming the door does flash an unseen smile on my face but the thud and a motionless door confirms that I will not be getting out of here today. "Shit. Shit. Shit. I-I can't get the door to open."

At least he has tried. Teddy is the only one who has tried to help me so far.

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

Thanks to Tom for Teddy Ursa dialogue!

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day Four.




I did send you a note
On the wind for you to read

I spend the morning in the shower of my ensuite, letting the hot power jets bounce off my back to help loosen my muscles. This should feel like self-care but shower thoughts are not exactly renowned for being a perfect distraction. Last night the projector that I have no control over played the death of Ivy Mortuus. I wonder how Arwen is holding up right now after watching his sister die. How is everyone else holding up after watching their children die?

Have they been standing in a shower for over an hour, allowing steam to fill their lungs and their skin to start turning clammy? The steam is starting to get to my head, everything around me is slowly starting to spin. I lean against the tiled wall, trying to find the center of my balance. The hot water soaks my hair, the back of my neck is starting to burn. I don’t move though. Still resting my forehead against the tiles.

The water stops.

My hand reaches out to the handle, trying to switch it back on again but no matter how many times I twist the handle, there is no water. Are they really watching me? Right now? In the shower? It is not something I should really be surprised about; they have their fingers in every part of my life and I bet they even know my bowel movements schedule too.

I leave the bathroom with a towel over my shoulders and the first clean set of clothes I have worn in four days. Johnny’s shirt from the train is still laid out on the part of the double bed that I do not sleep on. An odd token to keep, if anyone kept one of my shirts, I’d think they were an obsessed creep…

Drying my hair with the towel, I look around my room, there is a silver trolley by the door with three plates. This seems to be an over-extravagant breakfast compared to the rest. There is a cover over each of the plates, I dump the towel on the floor before picking which plate to ignore. There is a note on the middle plate, ’If you do not finish a meal today Flynn, you will be given a TPN.’ Great, they are watching me. ”You can observe me better if you just unlock that door you know!” I tell whoever is listening. Under the cover is two slices of toasted bread covered in what I assume is peanut butter and sliced bananas. I take one and bite a big chunk of the bread, enough to digest a few slices of bananas in the bite. Okay, I have surrendered to their threat. I have just been too distracted to even contemplate a meal right now.

I continue to chew on the toast before picking up the cover on the next plate. It is not food but a device. Something I have used at Fenwick’s hospital in District Six. Treasure Trove – The Ultimate Study Guide for Medical Students. It is basically every textbook in history all in one device, with built in quizzes and assignments. What are they trying to do, distract me with studying?

Then there is the final plate to the left of the toast. A syringe and a vial marked morphling. The fuck are they trying to do? Do they really think I am so easy just to hit myself with that poison to ease all of this pain? It is what they want, an easy way out of this so they can unlock the door and not have to worry about some deranged victor. Fuck them.

I swipe the study device and the last slice of toast from the trolley before climbing back onto the bed and watching the events of day four unfold. The projector seems to play all that I need to see. Every second of Johnny’s confrontations and then a summary of all the others, it must be Star’s doing because of the other night but still, I don’t know if any of this is edited or not. They could be hiding so much from me.

It is just Johnny and Karl versus a herd of electric equid mutts on one of the mountains. Fuck, not the mutts. My hands find their usual place over my eyes. All I hear is whinnying from the horses and howling from Johnny whenever he is hit. ”Just fucking stab them with the sword, Johnny!”

Somehow District Ten has tamed these beasts, good for nothing horses that have filled the case study section of my trauma studies with so many elaborate injuries. Those hooves are lethal and it sounds like Johnny and Karl are finding it out the hard way. But the electricity begins to fade and Johnny while battered and covered in blood guts the last beast. The camera zooms in on his bloodied face and my hand reaches out, wanting to wipe the blood from his nose. But I am too far away and my hand grips on the shirt that is on the bed next to me. ”Remember the first aid I taught you, look after yourself please.”

The projection does not give me a chance to be the distant voice to tell Johnny how to contain the blood that is escaping from his nose. It switches to a landscape of ruined walls and bloodied tributes. It is Amaterasu and she is dead. The one I have neglected and pushed to the back of my mind. Like I did with Kiptyn, Jack and Willa. Favoring Quinn, Aurora, and Robin. It is hard not to get lost with those I care most about, how selfish that seems. Then the camera flicks back to Johnny, now helping Karl with his injuries and it looks like the sponsors have been busy sending him tent supplies. Teddy is for sure pulling his weight, shelter is always a useful resource. Even the note he sent with the gun yesterday, I need to thank him.

I throw my head against the pillow, cradling the Treasure Trove device against my chest. This tablet will not have a guide on how to save someone so far away. Save the boy who makes my cheeks burn whenever I see him. The boy whose hands belong in mine. A boy so unlike any of my other friends but I still desire him. I wasted so much time between us because I was so clueless and worried that the others would just reject him. It is too late now though. Too late to even tell him I love him.

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day Five.




I am lost, in our rainbow
Now our rainbow has gone

“Let’s make these fuckers squeal,”

It is those words from the projector that turn the study device in Flynn’s hands into a projectile. A short-lived distraction, now cracked and shattered at the other side of the room. Other than clumsiness and the stupid horses, this is the first time anyone has laid a finger on Johnny, and it is making Flynn’s brow sweat.

Last night’s sleepwear for Flynn was the shirt that has laid on his bed for nearly a week. He is still in the shirt now, he can feel every fiber of the fabric against his skin. Breakfast lays untouched by the door along with the needles of painkillers and anesthesia that have piled up every mealtime. The Capitol’s message is clear get over it or we will make you.

The figures of Itzal Usoa and Mirage Vigil are projected into the room as they tower over the tent that Johnny and Karl shelter in. A part of Flynn hopes that their blades are aimed at his ally but it is Johnny they pull out of the tent first. It is Johnny who they make bleed with their katanas.

Flynn is on his feet, scrambling around the room. His reflexes are uncontrollably trying dodge the blades for Johnny but there is nothing that can be done for the boy who is on the television. He swipes the needles that are on the floor and every time the camera focuses on Mirage or Itzal, he throws them like darts towards the projector. Wasted morphling bursts onto the floor, administering its relief into the carpet rather than Flynn’s own veins.

”Come on Johnny, please!” A surge of tears wash down his cheeks as he falls to his knees, begging for the boy to fight back. With every last bit of energy, Johnny does not back down. That strength is what made Flynn fall for him. It is that strength that will bring him home. But there is so much blood. Flynn can feel it on his own skin, dripping from his palms and his face, mixed with the tears that obscure his vision.

”Just fucking run away, just get up and run away. You can’t fight this!”

There is something about the tributes that Johnny is facing that irks Flynn. It is like they are enjoying the fact they are making Johnny bleed. Relishing in the pain. Acting all mighty with their bullshit words. Do they not know the pain they are inflicting right now? Not just on Johnny.

He doesn’t think he felt like that when he fired the last bullet at Lorraine, Castor and Lenox. Regret. Shame. Guilt.

Johnny’s heartbeat is slowing while Flynn’s is beating faster with rage.

Flynn chokes on his words of anguish, struggling to throw the commentary from his tightening throat. His chest feels like it is collapsing within itself and every few seconds he forgets to even breathe.

He should have been prepared for this, but denial is not a remedy for shock.

“Fuck off and die, bitch,”

”You fucking scumbag!”

The last thing Flynn sees on the projector before he throws the full bowl of granola and milk at it is Itzal Usoa pulling his sword from the chest of the boy who he has laid all his emotions on. It is not just Johnny’s heart that the District Five has just pierced.

The last thing Flynn hears before the audio starts crackling and sparkling is the canon. That doomed confirmation. That haunting noise causes every moment that he has witnessed trigger that sound before to flood his mind.

It is not just Johnny. It is Aurora. It is Quinn. And it will not just be them.

But Johnny was more. Johnny was everything he had never felt before. Had before.

It shouldn’t be was, it should be is. But now everything that Flynn has had with Johnny has been forced into the past tense by Mirage and Itzal.

The door unlocks.

”YOU FUCKING BITCH, IT SHOULD BE YOU!”

Two pairs of peacekeepers’ arms restrain Flynn from flinging a burst needle from the floor at the escort. The pain is so exhausting but he kicks and throws his arms, resisting with the little strength that he has. ”It is not fair. It should be you, you never care!”

He has never felt agony like this before, not even when Lorraine’s bullet took the ear from the side of his head.

Spoilt little boy, now facing the relentless karma six years on from sending Tommy to his death. Doomed by one fatal decision. Who is going to be next? There are only so many pieces that his heart can be torn into.

”You c*nts!” He says at the television that is still playing in the living room that he is dragged past. ”I love him and you took him.”

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Day One Without Johnny.




I am lost, I am lost
I am lost, I am lost
I am lost, I am lost.

Flynn has been tipped back into the District Six apartment, a non-threat now that he is pumped with the Capitol doctor’s homeopathic calming tablets that have their own warning attached to them. If the tablets are not administered – harm will come to the patient’s friends and family. Not that threats were enough to save Aurora, Quinn and Johnny.

It took just one night for them to conduct an interrogation disguised as a therapy session. Flynn knows how to answer all of their questions and give them what they want but it wasn’t enough to walk away without a list of prerequisites. The thought of what they are going to do with him during the next games seems like a fitting punishment for someone that is the embodiment of a plague.

It is Flynn who is the contagious disease for his loved ones. There is no cure for it, only isolation. It is why he wrote a letter to the club, push them away before he returns home. It is not like they need him anyway. And then there is the matter of his family, how is he to distance himself from the people he sees every day? Make them stop loving him.

Star is gone. Flynn is allowed out into the living area but not out of the door into the rest of the training center. There is a only a handful of avoxes in here with him, hiding against the walls just watching him on the ever so familiar couch. He spent his last evening with Johnny on this couch, now he is curled up on it lying on Johnny’s reaping day shirt while the television replays a summary of Day Six’s events. Just seven of them left, he will be able to go home soon. The most bearable victor out of the lot would be Karl. The last one to breathe the same air as Johnny. The last one to hear his last heartbeat. He can forgive him for taking away the pain.

It is so awkward in the room, silent eyes on him while he is sulking on the couch. Such a desire for isolation but no matter where he goes from now, there will be no privacy.

He can’t ask for help; he is not the only one to suffer like this. So many Salazars, Le Rouxs, Lowes and more have been taken by the games. The other victors will just say you are not the only one to lose someone. Stop crying and just get over it!

Flynn thumps his fist against the base of the couch after the thought and it triggers some kind of chain reaction amongst the avoxes that are watching. One sprints over carrying a silver tray, presenting two capsules right in front of his face. Is he really going to have his own personal dispensary wherever he goes from now? He reluctantly grabs the capsules, not shifting from his fetal curled up position and just dry swallows them. He chokes. Struggling for a moment as the coughing does not seem to shift one of the capsules in his throat. The avox near him goes into panic mode, commandeering a glass of water out of nowhere.

”Don’t worry, I will live. For now.” Flynn just slumps back onto the couch, counting down the days until he can lay in this same position in his own home.

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles