twenty-six - rhapsodic

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the sky is a melting pot of draining color. a plethora of orange, pink, red, and a hint of dark violet paints the heavens above in an array of beauty that is breathtaking and warm. it washes over the arena in a bath of calming peace.

except the peace is not there.

the loss of emmanuelle has taken its toll on both matthias and i. she was a valuable member of our team, with camps and mounds of supplies. but we don't know where the other two hidden camps are, so all we have left is what's in our backpack.

without her, it's like ghosts are following us. there's four of them trailing behind, lapping at our heels and getting into our minds. my head is a constant swirl of negativity. all i want to do is survive, but how can i do that if i can hardly think straight? i used to wonder why some victors went insane after the games. now i'm not so surprised.

it's down to five tributes. the gamemakers are releasing the most vicious clones they have remaining in an attempt to end the games as quickly as possible. there is no way to tell which of them had already paid a visit, and which haven't. the only ones i know of are nina, whom emmanuelle killed, and bliss, carly, titus, and milo.

bliss, carly, titus, and milo. what connections do they have? why were they specifically targeted toward matthias and i?

my shoes pound hard against the ground, hitting the earth so sharply that i can feel every rock and twig bruise my feet. the wonderful sky above gives just enough light to see, but it's fading quickly. soon all we will have left is the moon.

matthias sprints yards ahead of me. he breathing so heavily that i can hear every pant. both of our throats are painfully dry, for we haven't dared to stop for much water, and i'm running mostly on adrenaline by now. we've been on the move for hours on end. i'm surprised our bodies haven't given out by now, considering my muscles are incredibly tense and my entire being seems to weigh three tons.

my heart drops into my stomach when someone drops directly between matthias and i, so close that i could feel the wind. i screech to a stop and dug up mounds of dirt as my shoes unearth it. slowly, my eyes drift upward. i immediately feel like every artery has been detached from my main living function. i can't breathe.

he stands before me. breathing. alive. unscathed. his hazel eyes watch my every move with sickening interest. the smirk, of which i had grown to admire, now unravels every nerve and sets me on edge. his dark brown hair is styled perfectly. his skin seems to glow.

asher.

at first i'm blank. no emotion. no expression. then a surprising feeling consumes me and lights a fire to every organ.

i am angry– angrier than i've ever been in my entire life. how could the capitol do this? they took someone so broken, so determined and caring, and bent him into a creature that is unrecognizable. the hatred and choleric expression in his hard, cold eyes is a foreign sight that twists my gut painfully.

i briefly wonder how the real asher would react to seeing this. he'd be upset, no doubt, that this version of him is nothing close to the actual him. he'd probably even try to fight the clone.

i've taken too long to move. the clone of asher whips out two long, sleek knives before i can bat an eye. they twirl expertly through his fingers, sending a punch to my heart. i don't dwell on it for long and unsheathe daggers of my own. two can play at this game.

asher makes a quick downward motion with his arm, bringing the blade toward me at an amazingly fast speed. i duck and jump back instinctively as it sails over my head. while i'm crouched low, i jut my dagger out and attempt to drag it across his middle. my wrist is knocked aside like it's a pesky fly.

i mentally hit myself as an ache erupts in my bone. i know i'm being too hesitant to hurt him, but how can i not? this clone looks exactly like him. right down to the freckles below his eyes, so light you can barely see them unless you pay attention.

i shake my head and force myself to snap out of it. it's not asher. it does not think like asher. it does not act like asher would. it does not have the same intentions as asher.

it's not asher.

matthias strikes the clone when he least expects it, slicing his back open. asher's mouth falls open. the flashback from only a few weeks ago flashes inside of my head, when asher made that exact face. but unlike the previous moment, asher does not fall forward. instead he regains his composure almost immediately, whirling around and stabbing at matthias.

my breath falls short when i see the motion, but it quickly morphs into relief. matthias is already out of the way. he swipes at asher's outstretched hand, creating an effective, deep cut on his forearm.

i take my chance. bending at my knees, i pivot my body and send a forceful kick to asher's bleeding, gushing back. he crumples forward. at the last second, his hands catch his fall. he retaliates instantly by trying to jump up, but i stomp my foot down on his back so he falls face-first into the dirt.

"what are you doing?" matthias asks through pained gasps. he stands a bit to the side with his free hand clutching his cramping abdomen.

"trust me," i reply through gritted teeth, rolling asher over with my foot so he's facing me. his entire face is dusted with dirt and scratches from the rocks as he snarls at me, eyes narrowed into slits. i quickly pin him down and hold a knife at his throat. asher's chin inches backward and his breath turns shallow at the cold blade touching his skin.

and then he catches me completely off guard. his eyes go soft. his face loses its fiery hostility. and he stares at me helplessly.

"thalia," he whispers in a voice as soft as summer rain. "thalia, please."

i loosen my grip on the knife. my hand releases some of its tension. i'm hesitating.

"don't fall for it," matthias warns slowly, cautiously moving his hand from his stomach and taking a single step closer. "it's not him!"

my eyes shift to matthias, then back at asher. he's still giving me that innocent look. so vulnerable. so...human. none of the other careers had possessed such emotion in their eyes.

it's not him. it's not him.

"thalia," he pleads. his voice holds the same cracks it had when he'd told the story of the fire, so familiar it makes my heart threaten to burst with grief. i never thought i'd hear it again. hearing my name fall from his lips is utterly jarring.

it's not him. it's not him.

but it is.

as if he could sense me processing the thought, asher reaches up faster than i can breathe and slips the knife from between my loose fingers. he jams an elbow into my throat and uses all his force to push me off of him. once i'm the one on the ground and gasping for air, he holds the knife at my throat, face inches from mine.

matthias growls and rushes forward with his sword out in front of him. asher merely kicks out a foot, causing the other boy to topple back onto a rock. i cringe at the sickening sound of his spine hitting the solid surface.

"look where we are now, twelve," asher sneers in a hiss. his gorgeous eyes are hardened to steel so sharp his gaze could cut diamonds. the rage had swallowed him whole, eaten him up, and spat up something so horrifically inhumane that it finally sinks in.

asher halloway is going to kill me.

out of the corner of my eye, i see matthias sit up. he puts both hands on either side of his slightly bleeding head, closing his eyes shut. one arm pushes him to his feet, where he stumbles. blue eyes open and meet mine. i feel tears rising up. they're so pained, so utterly destroyed and demolished that it hurts to look at them. we've made it this far. one of us isn't making it back home.

matthias takes a step forward and nearly collapses. a hand flies to his pounding skull again, gaze disoriented in a manner that suggests a concussion. "thalia–"

the knife edges further toward my skin, this time nicking it a bit. asher grins maliciously as stinging pain blossoms from my neck, flowing to my brain and the rest of my body down to my toes. "any last words worth my time?"

i can't speak. i'm not even thinking about myself, or how i'm going to die. the only thing reeling in my mind is that it's asher halloway who's about to slit my throat. he's going to kill me. asher, the boy who was forced to play a facade to keep his siblings alive. the boy who opened up to me with his beautiful heart and soul. the boy who just wanted to be loved. the boy whom the capitol is depicting as a ruthless monster.

his eyebrows raise in mock amusement that i can't utter a word. "cat got your tongue? oh well. bye now."

just before he's about to drag the blade through my skin, his eyes go extremely wide and fill with unrelenting shock. his head bobs forward like he's about to be sick. he coughs and blood sprays my cheeks, causing me to screw my face up in disgust. the color drains from asher's face like water being sucked from a tub. his hands fall slack in the knife and just as he's about to fall on top of me, he's pushed aside like he's a weightless rag doll.

i lie in a stupor too long, not really seeing so much as trying to process what just happened. one thought consumes my brain and takes up all my senses. it finally registers. i almost died.

"hello? you alive in there?" a deep male voice snaps rudely. someone's foot pokes my unwounded side. "get up. we don't have much time."

my eyelids blink. now i can see emrys standing above me, large and muscular body blocking most of the darkening sky. his dark skin glistens with grime, sweat, and blood. he appears fatigued for a second. his black eyes reflect what looks like pain before they return back to their normal, guarded manner, holding an enigma only he can decipher.

his fingers snap repeatedly. "you just gonna stare all day? c'mon." he turns and faces a woozy matthias. "you too, matthew."

"it's matthias," he corrects half-heartedly in a grumble. his face is clouded with agony.

"you think i care?" emrys retorts with a roll of his eyes. "look, i'm trying to..help." he forces the last word out like it's foreign to him, which it probably is.

"all right," i grunt as i struggle to push myself into a standing position. my wrist aches, all my bones feel sore, and the only thing i want to do is sleep, but i know we literally have no time. i wipe the fake blood off of my face with my sleeve. "talk."

emrys' eyes glance fleetingly down at the knife i have clenched in my hand, the one asher had almost killed me with. he scoffs and folds his thick arms over his chest. "i'm not going to hurt you. i have another tribute to find, and–" he is interrupted by a booming cannon that splits the silence and echoes across the whole arena, and he looks genuinely afraid. his voice quickens in desperation. "never mind. astrid has gone wild. rogue. whatever. she's bloodthirsty. everything that's been happening to me, to you, to everyone, was her."

matthias squints in suspicion. "how can we trust you?"

emrys grits his teeth in annoyance. "i'm trying to buy you time, dimwit! this whole thing has been her plan. she'll do anything to win. she sent bliss and titus after you guys, knowing they were going to die. she brought lycus and i with her to..kidnap you so one of us would perish. you don't really think that district six girl snuck up on us, do you? she let her." he pauses, briefly examining each of our tired faces. "i'm telling you this because i don't want her to win. she doesn't deserve it. she killed my fricken boyfriend."

the thing he says about nina sends a hard punch to my gut. i truly thought that she was able to kill lycus on her own, but knowing it was all astrid...it hurts me. nina was so proud after she managed to take down a career. if only she knew.

"wait, what?" the words come out before i can stop them. i feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"yes, i'm gay," emrys sighs in exasperation, "but i really think that's the least of our worries. she's coming to find us. luckily, i made sure to observe her tactics. she can't swim and therefore will be looking for us by the woods. try to hide on the cornucopia, by some of the rocks. i'm going to slow her down while you rest, rehydrate, and prepare yourselves."

matthias and i share a look. i'm not sure how to feel. this is the man who strangled me. who lowered me into the ground and buried me alive. who almost killed matthias. he caused us so much terror. how can we trust him?

his story does make sense. i haven't realized until now, but astrid rarely ever went out of her way to take anyone out. she always kept someone bigger and stronger by her side. bliss was the one who strayed a bit from their camp when asher and i watched them. there were scarce moments that she was even around. if he is telling the truth...

"fine," i spit out more coldly than i intend to. "we'll do it. be the hero for once. we'll be the ones to cower away this time."

i sheathe the knife, along with my daggers that are on the ground. asher has one sticking out of his pocket, and another in his belt. i shiver in disgust as i slip them out and conceal them in my shoes.

emrys nods, apparently unfazed by my harsh words, then leaves without a backward glance. matthias pulls his lips into a thin line and eyes the way the career disappeared. "i don't trust him."

"neither do i," i reply indifferently, "but we really don't have a choice."

matthias sighs, shifting his gaze to the ground for a second. he looks like something is weighing him down. slowly, his mouth opens. "thalia, if anything happens–"

"nothing is going to happen," i assert fiercely, snapping my head up to look at him.

"no," matthias responds to my surprise. "no. you can't keep saying that anymore. there are four of us left, thalia. four. there's no way out of it. one of us has to die."

i reach into the backpack on the ground and pull out the water bottle so i don't have to talk. the warm liquid soothes my parched throat and revives my lifeless tastebuds. after drinking as much as i need, i hand it to matthias. he takes it and downs the rest.

he's right. i know he is– i even admitted it a few days ago. but how can i let that sink in? i might leave without matthias. matthias might leave without me. maybe neither us will walk out alive. it's not something i wish to dwell upon. i don't want to digest the awful possibilities and realities that the hunger games have to offer, i just want to remain oblivious. but oblivion isn't always a good thing.

"i'm sorry," i whisper hoarsely. my voice splinters.

matthias caps the bottle and drops it onto the bag, stepping toward me. "what?"

i suck in a deep breath and let my eyes meet his. "i'm sorry."

he chuckles a bit, so close now that we're almost chest-to-chest. "you don't have to apologize, thalia."

my heart burns with a thousand fires when i look at him, admiring every inch of his face. the cuts on his skin that have dried and left dark red lines. the dirt smudged on his cheeks. the dark, puffy circles beneath his vibrant eyes like bruises. but he is still achingly handsome, and maybe i should've listened to emmanuelle.

my brain is cursing me, telling me that i need to stop. i need to stop feeling this way. i need to stop caring for him. it's not going to end well for one, or both, of us. i know i'm going to regret this in the long run, but i don't care because it's an honor to be adored by matthias rutcher. i'm content that i got to experience so much of his radiant light.

"i'm sorry," i whisper again.

i rise on my toes and let my lips meet his.

it's not what i expected. i always thought kisses were awkward and pointless, but it's none of that. my heart pounds in my chest and feels like it's going to burst as matthias kisses me back gently. he lets his hands cautiously drift to my waist, careful around my wound. my fingers cup his face; i can feel the scratches and dried cuts that are rough against my own skin. his lips are slightly less chapped now that we've had something to drink, and they're warm against my own. the one bad thing is that i tilted my head incorrectly. soon my lungs start to burn from lack of air and i have to pull away, sinking back from my tip toes.

matthias wraps his arms around me in an embrace. he transfers his hands from my hips to around my back, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead. he mumbles against my skin, "it's not going to be okay. but you and i will be, no matter what happens tonight."

a surge of bubbly happiness builds up in my chest despite the context. one of the many things i adore about him is that he always keeps me anchored. he's always in reality, no matter how harsh it is. i love him, but i'm not in love with him. and i'll never be able to find out if that feeling will transform into something deeper and more beautiful.

because this is the hunger games, and the odds are never in our favor.

gif is asher bc i miss him PLEASE COME BACK

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CAN I GET A HECK YEAH BECAUSE MATTHALIA IS CANON?? MATTHALIA IS CANON? THIS IS REAL. AHHH.

a lot of things happened in this chapter. what were your TWO favorite parts? let me know in the comments!

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xoxo,
kristyn