"I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking." Mockingjay

.***.

Razzle was on edge on the next morning. Finnick tried to give him wide berth, spending his early hours in the pool, lying on his back, pretending to be dead.

He'd thought about ending it all before. Three times, to be exact, he'd thought about letting himself drown in the comfort of familiar water. It would be like falling asleep in the embrace of a friend. He didn't trust anyone as much as he trusted the all-encompassing sea, the cool splash of a pond, the refreshing relief of jumping into a pool.

The first time had been when he was nine or ten, and Ronwyn was sick, and his father had yelled at Finnick. "You grow so fast! You eat so much! You think I don't know that he gives you food?" Finnick hadn't known that Ronwyn had been giving up his food for the younger brother. He certainly hadn't asked him to. But Ronwyn had come close to death that night. If he'd died, Finnick wouldn't have been able to live with himself. He loved his brother more than he loved himself. After that, he tried to eat less, declining second helpings as his stomach rumbled. He grew mostly on stolen food and fish he'd gotten himself.

The second time had been just after the Reaping. As a child, they'd always played at the Games. Every District did. But even in the play-acting, Finnick had known that he wasn't strong enough, bold enough, good enough to win. Facing death, broadcast to his family, to Annie, to everyone he loved...but no. If he killed himself, Ronwyn would have been the one to find him. And Finnick couldn't do that to his big brother. He owed him that much.

The third time had been in the arena. Everyone thought about suicide in the arena. The reasons were obvious. To this day, Finnick doesn't know why he keeps breathing.

When he'd first been thrust into this life, this endless cycle of sell-yourself-or-people-die, he had been sure he could bear it. Anything after the Games.

But he realized, face-down in the water, Razzle pacing endlessly up on dry land, that he had been able to power through because the people he loved were so far away. It was abstract concepts of Ronwyn and Annie and his father that was being threatened, not the people themselves. So he woke every day and went through the motions because he had too, but he'd never felt any real fear. Anger, hatred, self-loathing...sure, every day. But never fear.

It was here now. Breathtaking, inescapable terror had seized him from the moment Dazzle was forced out the door. Because Dazzle was not an abstract concept. Because Finnick loved him. It was a confusing sort of love, deep as the sea and powerful as the tidal moon and fragile as a snowflake.

Finnick knew, as soon as he saw Dazzle pulled away from him, that the older boy was the love of his life. Anything that happened to him was on his head. And for the fourth time in his life, Finnick thought about the comforting embrace of nothingness. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.

"He should be back by now," Razzle said.

Finnick righted himself, planted his feet as best he could on the bottom of the pool, sucked in a big breath of air. "Maybe he's late." He tried to think or something comforting, or funny. Razzle had always been harder and colder than Dazzle, a result, Finnick assumed, of being in the arena. It was hard to talk to him. "Maybe Caesar is feeding him breakfast."

Razzle snorted. "More like eating him for breakfast." His voice broke on the last word. Too late, Finnick realized the older boy was about to cry. He was scrambling out of the pool by the time Razzle muttered, "Shit," and began to sob.

"Hey," Finnick said. Dripping wet, he went over to Razzle anyway, wrapped an arm around his waist. "Hey, it's okay."

"It's not okay!" Razzle exploded, pushing Finnick away. Finnick slipped in the water he'd just dripped all over the floor. He fell on his back, hard.

Breathing hard, Razzle stared down at Finnick, fists clenched. Finnick wasn't sure he was even fully conscious. When he spoke, his voice was venomous. "None of this is okay, Finn. You're fourteen fucking years old and you're a whore for hire. You should be back in Four, swimming or fishing or doing whatever the fuck you do. I mean, at least we were almost eighteen. I was almost eighteen when they dropped me in that arena. I was almost eighteen when I killed three people in order to live. You're a kid.

"And you know what else isn't okay? That my brother's in love with you." Razzle smirked. "I don't think I'm capable of feeling anything but fear and he won't shut up about you. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you guys. Obviously you like him, too. But you don't know how vulnerable loving someone makes you. Dazzle is expendable. They know that even the threat of hurting him is enough to keep me in line. And now he's your weakness too? That's not good for Dazz. It makes him so vulnerable, and I hate that, and I hate that you're the one to make him such an easy target. But I also can't hate you, because before you came he didn't smile for months."

Razzle shook his head and seemed to realize their positions for the first time. Finnick was still on the floor, back aching with the bruise of his fall. Razzle stuck out a hand and Finnick took it, wincing. He didn't think he was going to get an apology. Maybe all of this was an apology.

After several long moments of not looking at each other, Finnick cleared his throat. "I'm worried about him, too."

Razzle stared at him. Then he smiled. It was such a wide, genuine smile. It was such a Dazzle smile. He leaned forward and pressed a long, soft kiss to Finnick's forehead.

It was way better than an apology.

.***.

Dazzle came back, of course. Breathing hard and pale and shaking but otherwise unhurt. Razzle clucked over him as he led his twin over to a chair, Finnick hovering nervously behind them. "Are you hiding something from me, Dazz? Not a little broken rib? Not a cut? A bruise? He had you all night and all morning and he didn't do anything to you?"

Except that wasn't right. Anyone looking at Dazzle could tell that something had been done to him. Maybe he wasn't physically hurt, but he looked scared to death, and sad.

"Finnick..." Dazzle gasped, finally drawing in enough air to speak.

"I'm here," Finnick said, kneeling down and taking Dazzle's hand. Because it felt right, he kissed it. How must they look to those peeking in, two twenty-year-olds and their fourteen-year-old interloper. A pair of twins and a pair of lovers. There was something unlucky in those cards, unlucky and rare. If their father could see Finnick falling for a boy-man, older and stronger and more broken, would his father be proud of him? Finnick didn't think so, but he was here for Dazzle anyway. Sometimes sons had to live their own lives.

Razzle had melted away, gone to the kitchen. He was no doubt getting something useful. A sugar cube, the only treat they were allowed to have. A glass of water.

Finnick expected...well, something. Razzle often left the two alone, and Dazzle always took advantage. He planted kisses all over Finnick's body and whispered in his ear and recited old poems and professed his love in a hundred ways.

Not now. Dazzle was shaking harder. Finnick stood, and very, very gently, kissed Dazzle's trembling lips. "It's okay," he said into Dazzle's parted mouth, as if saying it out loud made it true.

Summoned by sound or instinct, Razzle was back at their side. "Hey," he said, in the tone one adopts when trying to coax an animal out of hiding. "What's wrong, Dazz?"

That was it. Something about the words, or maybe being surrounded by people who cared about him, made Dazzle choke, lift a hand to stifle a soft cry. Razzle and Finnick had time to share a stricken look before Dazzle sucked in a breath and started to sob.

A pit grew in Finnick's stomach. A knot of worry unlike he'd ever felt before. His chest felt tight and he couldn't breathe, couldn't even comfort his lover. He let Razzle gather his brother in his arms and stepped back. It was Finnick's turn to tremble all over.

Now safely enclosed in his brother, Dazzle was able to speak. "I saw it. He didn't know I was awake when he turned on the television. It was Four. Oh Finnick, I'm so-"

"Who is it?"

Even as he asked the question Dazzle knew the answer. Annie, it was the girl he had loved first, the girl who'd gotten him through the arena. The girl they'd used as leverage to make him stay in this place.

Dazzle reached a hand out to Finnick, aborting the movement when Finnick flinched. "No. No, Finn, it was...it was your father."

Caesar had thought Dazzle was asleep when he tuned to his messages and the news. There was a shot of Four, of Victor's Village, where Finnick's father and Ronwyn now lived and Finnick had never visited. One house was on fire.

"Your brother was on screen," Dazzle said, his voice listless and dead. "He was fighting some big men, trying to get in the house. He was screaming. They said...they said your father didn't survive. Your brother got five lashes for hitting some Peacemakers. Finnick, I'm so..."

Finnick just shook his head, mouth pressed in a hard line. So that's how this went. He refused Septimus and hundreds of miles away, a house fire was started. He mouthed off to Caesar and Dazzle was hurt.

"They killed out parents two months after we came here," Razzle said. He had one of his big square hands on Finnick's shoulder, holding him in place. As if he was afraid he was going to run away. Do something stupid. And wasn't he thinking about it? "Their house burned down, too. Then it was an old school friend, who apparently picked a fight with a Peacemaker and needed his neck broken. The only one we have left is out little sister, and she's only a baby."

"She's six now," Dazzle said, quietly.

"We haven't seen her since she was three. Even when we go back for the Reaping and things, they keep her far away."

Finnick looked up at them. He knew he had tears on his face and didn't care. They'd all see each other cry. "Why do you keep doing it?" He asked. "How can you keep going, when you have nothing left?"

"We have each other," Razzle said. "They can't take that away, or we would try to end it. I don't care anymore, about anything. Except for Dazzle."

Dazzle leaned back so his head nudged his brother's chest. Then he looked at Finnick. "And you, Finn. We're all each other's got."

But that wasn't quite true. Finnick and Dazzle and Razzle piled into one bed and listened to each other breathe and talked about swimming and memories from the arena, the good memories. There were good ones. There were still good things.

Like Ronwyn, fighting against the Peacekeepers. Ronwyn, who was still alive. Ronwyn, who Finnick trusted above all others. His brother would save him. He was sure of it.

.***.

We know it's been a while. We started graduate school, still doing creative writing. We're trying to write a fantasy novel. We wrote more books. But Fanfiction is still our home. We hope to finish this story, because Finnick deserves it.

Hope you guys are still reading. Just keep on living.

Peace