second chances // flashback; avery

[Python]

m i n x .

You've been given a second chance.

Minx assumed life was playing tricks on him. He would never breathe the air of Five again, never see Avery's smile, never have the chance to regret the burning envy he always held toward others. After the Capitol plucked him from the arena, he was supposed to return home in a casket. Instead, life had granted him a second chance. Somehow the Capitol had a shred of mercy after seventy-nine years of torture. It was almost too blessed to be true; he had expected the ruse to end at any moment, for Peacekeepers to come in and execute them in front of the whole country.

It never happened. Nobody died, Anatalia was crowned, and all of the tributes were released. The quell's twist was revealed.

Minx was the luckiest boy alive.

He wondered what Avery was thinking. Had he watched the Games at all? Witnessed Minx's tears on screen? How much blood he spilled?

How hard I fought?

He never thought of himself as a strong person. Looking back at himself, he couldn't believe what he had accomplished. A cursed loser from Five actually survived for more than a few days, and managed to kill Capitol mutations with one hand. He wouldn't call himself a hero or a badass, but he was certainly studier than he was before. Not the pathetic, weeping victim he felt like in the past. Woe is me, my parents hated me!

Well, that part still bothered him. He wasn't quite out of the woods yet with self-pity.

Now all he could focus on was Avery. Minx wasted no time at the Justice Building - he hung his head low and ignored the staring onlookers as he shuffled through the Square. He wasn't a damn celebrity and he didn't feel like one - but he was also a ghost ,so why wouldn't they stare? The two ghosts of Five returning again. It was unfair for those who lost their sons in daughters in past Games, but Minx hadn't chosen this fate for himself. Everything was out of his control.

All he could control now was his destination. He walked to Avery's house and let himself in, knowing the boy would be volunteering at the soup kitchen this time of day. This place was like a second home to him - usually smelling of roasted vegetables and other goodies because Avery was one of the best cooks he had ever met. Now it felt empty, lonely, but he was changing that. He had been shown mercy.

When the front door opened, Minx turned around and gaped at him. I can't believe I'm here.

"Hi Avery."

[[nyte]]

avery wilson

Bruises blossom beneath his skin, precious buds born from negligence and grief. He's not being careful anymore, going through the motions of life without trying to live it. It's cold coming home, like the shadows linger even after he's turned on the lights to ward them away. Loss was not new to him. His mother's killer lingers in his own veins but taking Minx was crueler than even that.

Minx had ruined him. Not like a wildfire or a whirlwind, he'd been the embers of a persistent affection. He'd seen so many broken things in his eighteen years but none so beautifully as that boy. It had been slow going, when he first met Minx he'd been frozen solid. Avery wanted nothing more than to wrap those cold hands inside his own and breathe warmth into every bit of him, but he'd known he'd have to be patient. One person could not fix another, he merely wanted to make it easier for Minx to fix himself.

Was it cliche to say that he'd fallen in love at first sight? Of course, he hadn't known what that feeling was at the time. Minx had been like a thorn in his side, a thought he could not shake. The way he'd rebuffed every bit of kindness Avery had offered only served to dig him deeper and once managed to draw blood there was no stopping it. Avery needed to see him smile, he'd wanted to be the reason he did.

However, he was a fool to believe there was a silver lining to be found in District Five. He'd seen the ruins of love since he was a boy, bore witness to only the shattered remnants of it and still he dared to fall. Divine punishment or divine comedy, Avery wasn't sure of which this fate should be called.

He'd watched Minx die. He'd watched the man he loves get torn to shreds and still had to keep on living. Life did not wait for him to grieve, rent still had to be paid and his body still needed to be fed. It didn't matter that the apartment felt cold or that everything had gone tasteless and stale - as long as his heart kept beating he lived.

"You good to lock up tonight, Butch?" He smells of smoked meat and fresh baked bread but those scents seem rather sour now. Warm memories of sneaking specialty ingredients out of the kitchen to weave into grand dinners for Minx hurt so much that he can hardly stand to look at his tools. The regulars at the diner had tried to comfort him. They'd looked upon him with misty eyes and tight smiles, they'd patted his shoulder and told him the pain would fade with time. That didn't make him feel better, though. He didn't want it to get easier to forget Minx.

"Yeah, son." Butch still looks at him with those misty eyes, hobbling over from his station behind the cash register and shoving a brown bag into limp fingers. "My wife made you somethin' special. She said you looked scrawny the last time she was in here."

He smiles, but only politely. "Tell Mrs. Martinez thanks for me." Butch responds with a nod and Avery leaves before the first tear can slip off of his chin. He cries so easy these days. It feels wrong displaying the weakness he'd always known to keep close to his chest but why bother if there was no one left to be strong for?

His feet know the way home but he can't help but shuffle them a bit. This walk was one of the worst parts of his day. The nothing that awaited him was unbearable.

Letting out a long suffering sigh he opens the door, finding traces of a stranger inside but figuring it was one of the shelter kids in search of a softer bed than the cots offered elsewhere.

Then he heard the whisper of a ghost. "Hi, Avery." A thousand emotions cross his face in a single second, unbearable agony and confusion, fear that he's gone fucking crazy and a pathetic kind of hope that he has. Minx stood in the center of his living room, a feeble heartbeat among dead air. He looks nothing like the last image he'd seen of Minx, bruised and bleeding and completely helpless. Dying and then dead.

The bag of Mrs. Martinez's cookies drops to the floor with a soft thump that reminds him of shattering glass. He takes one step, two, three; desperate to close the distance between himself and whatever image of Minx standing before him. He scoops Minx up in his arms and he feels real. Just a bit colder than him but nowhere near as frozen as he should have felt.

He spins Minx around, a bit scared he'll break him but not enough to stop. When he sets him down he keeps his chin resting upon the top of his head and pulls him into his chest so that he can feel him breathe against him. "Oh, god, I think I've lost it but I'm so glad I have." He laughs, breathless and watery, "I missed you so much, why'd you have to die?"

[Python]

m i n x .

It was like meeting him for the first time. Flutters in his stomach, hands shaking, heart pounding in anticipation - how is he going to react? Minx had to convince himself all over again that this wasn't a dream. He was actually here, watching Avery walk through his own front door. So many happy memories created behind that door, nearly shattered by a Quell that took half of Minx's sanity away. The rest of it was in Avery's grasp - handle it with care.

A bag of cookies fell to the floor. Minx swallowed nervously, basking in the few seconds of silence it took for Avery to close the distance between them. He was greeted with a warm, secure embrace that swept him off of his feet. Yes, this is real. Familiar. A dream could not replicate the passion of Avery's embrace, the softness of his skin. He smelled of freshly baked bread and savory kitchen smoke. Minx buried his face in his chest, eyes stinging with tears. He had promised himself he wouldn't cry. There was pain and relief behind those tears, and he couldn't decide which was stronger.

They spun in a joyful circle, and Minx laughed. "Oh, god, I think I've lost it but I'm so glad I have." He was too happy to take on the weight of those words, what they meant. The sound of Avery's voice was exactly as he remembered - honeyed and smooth, a tone you couldn't help but trust without question. The voice of someone who would take care of you.

Minx opened his eyes again, nearly mouthing "I missed you too." Avery caught him off guard. Why did he have to die? For entertainment. For a country's political agenda, one he had never thought to challenge. The Games were supposed to have nothing to do with him, and now it was buried in his head along with a hundred horrible memories.

But he hadn't died, not really. The agony had been real, the taste of copper in his mouth, the heartbeat in his throat - but the Capitol had erased his scars. Fingers in the earth had found their way back to his hands. When he flexed them, they felt natural, as if nothing had ever happened. The ghost of that pain lingered, however. If he imagined it, he could remember it. His hand gently flinched in retaliation.

"I didn't," he said softly, cheek still resting against his chest. "I don't know why they spared us, but they did."

Yet he didn't have the heart to thank them. They were the reason he survived, yet they were the puppeteers behind his suffering.

"I'm so happy to be home. I missed you so much, I -"

He pulled away, gazing up at Avery with tear-stained eyes. "I was so scared."

[[nyte]]

avery wilson

Avery Wilson is not familiar with the concept of mercy. He learned early on life was only cruel - it had taken his mom and his friends, it had turned his own body against himself. So he looks upon Minx like he's a rapture, a gift sent from heaven above or maybe a curse meant to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Avery can think of worse fates, surely.

He looks at Minx for the first time in an eternity, still ethereal with tears clinging to his lashes. I should have volunteered for you. I'm sorry I'm a coward. The admission sticks in his throat so he tries to whisper it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, shushing him softly. Common sense screams somewhere in his mind's eye: the dead cannot come back to life. He must have found his way into a terrible purgatory.

He still chooses to believe Minx.

"I was so scared." Avery's mending heart starts to break again.

"I can imagine." He mumbles, running his hands along his shoulders until they reach his wrists. He takes great care when tangling their fingers together. "It looked-" He cannot hope to describe the gruesome horror that was watching Minx's blood pool around his cooling body, torn to pieces by weapons Avery had not so much as seen once in his life. It was hard not to remember that twinge of disgust he'd felt when he saw Minx lashing out at tributes in retaliation.

(Be grateful he tried to survive.)

In the end they had all looked like monsters on that television screen, even the man he loved.

So he lets the sentence falter, taking Minx's face in his hands and kissing every bit that he can reach instead. Avery had always considered Minx a opulent statue made of paper-mâché, a fraction of a second away from falling to pieces in the wrong hands. So he made sure to be gentle, to love him in a way that was not overwhelming.

That hardly matters anymore. His breaths harbor both laughter and sobs, catching on Minx's skin until he's satisfied he's touched every exposed inch. "You've always been a miracle worker, I shouldn't be surprised." After all, he'd never intended to know a love like this.

No one had ever come back after leaving Avery.

Not until today.

Though he is not fooled by this apparent kindness. The Capitol has a plan for Minx. They do not know mercy, even as he grips Minx tighter he waits for the moment they'll come to claim his debt. It's certain as a sunrise after dawn, certain as the years Avery had expected to wait to meet his love again.

He couldn't save Minx during the Reaping and he couldn't save him now.

But he promises he'll be by his side as long as he can.

"Move in?" Recklessly, he bears his heart to a ghost boy, "I don't think I can stand having you out of my sight ever again." He's told Minx he loves him a thousand times before.

This is heavier than those three words.