A/N: This is a Book of Mormon/Hunger Games crossover. Because young adult dystopian horror stories go with with profane, irreverent, uplifting musicals like peaches and cream. This is the product of months and months of inconsistent work so please- enjoy it.

The first time was out back, underneath the shadow of the boathouse. And no, it wasn't that kind of first time- it was a kiss, a little hesitant and a little salty.

It was August, Sean remembered, and the sweat on his skin practically glistened like the sunlight bouncing off the water.

"A soupy day," that's what his grandmother would have said. The air so warm and so wet it felt like seaweed broth on his skin.

Kevin's hands so gentle they felt like a breeze off the ocean.

Sean didn't know what to feel. He had watched Kevin Price for years, throwing out lines and hauling in boats, that stupid lock of hair falling over his eye, skin tanned and lips hardened into a straight line as he tugged himself back to shore.

Sean had watched Kevin with his friends at school- when they went to school- pressed pants, lazy smile, lazy hand raised when he knew the answers, which was most of the time.

Sometimes Sean had said hi.

And now, Kevin had kissed him.

Sunburned, freckly, pale-eyed Sean.

Kevin had whispered in his ear.

"Finally."

It wasn't finally so much as it was the beginning.

They moved fast from there- most teenagers in Panem did. You could be gone by next month, dead by next week. And it wasn't just the Games.

It was the silent purges, the knocks on doors in the middle of the night, the creepy one-eyed glass fish that kept washing up on the beach when no one knew why.

It was the fire that burned down Astoria's house, the strange gas explosion in Oliana's basement. The third-year teacher who never showed up past the first week of school, except when she did, dead on the beach, bleeding from her wrists.

So there was every incentive in Panem to move quickly, to rush things- a whistle in Sean's ear screaming, "go, go, go!"

Go quickly. Go quietly. Go carefully.

Don't let them see.

Sean only took Kevin's hand after the sun went down.

Kevin only kissed Sean in the shadows.

Kevin learned to whisper things without moving his mouth, he learned to look the other way when he smiled.

When Kevin hid himself- that was when Sean loved him the most.

In District Four, where every feeling was shouted, every smile as obvious as the waves lapping against the shore, having a secret was holding on forever.

Sean loved the ocean- it was open and empty and cold and lonely. Sean used to identify with it in that way, and loved it for its unquestioning companionship, but now he loved the ocean for reminding him that he was neither cold nor lonely.

Kevin followed him out onto the beach one night, footsteps silent in trenches of sand. He crouched behind Sean, wrapping one arm around his dusty t-shirt.

"Hi," Sean whispered, and he smiled to himself.

Kevin kissed him at the corner of his lips.

They sat in silence, talking to the moon.

Sean had a best friend. Kevin had several, although he told Sean once beneath the sticky canopy of linen that he didn't consider them "best," and hardly considered them "friends."

Sean's best friend was named Nabulungi, a name with too many vowels for its consonants. He swore he was the only one in the district who could pronounce it correctly.

Sean laughed the first time he had put his hand up against Naba's. "You're dark," he said, "and I'm so pale. We're like the very edges."

"The edges are good," Naba had said. "Those are the rare bits, the border that holds everyone else in."

With a little bit of practice, Sean had gotten Kevin saying Naba's name- her full name- correctly, and with even less persuasion, he had gotten Kevin to be their third comrade, their accomplice in law-abiding fear- the only way of life in District Four.

Kevin wrestled his friends on the beach, and he ate chunks of bread next to Naba and Sean in the sand, sweat gleaming on his back and Sean pretending not to want to touch him.

He ate lunch with his friends at the table in the middle, but he sat next to Sean and Naba to learn about the History of Panem.

It was a balancing act, and Kevin was good at it- not good enough to deflect questions, but really, how unlikely was it that District Four's Center of Teenage Gravity would want to be friends with District Four's Edges?

Sean tried to tell himself that it was not unlikely at all.

Kevin was standing in the middle of the crowd. That was not unusual, Sean thought- Kevin had a lot of crowds. What was unusual was that Kevin was not even pretending to enjoy it.

And even though Sean was standing right next to Kevin in the middle of the crowd, something they never allowed themselves to do, he was miserable.

Today was Reaping Day.

"And your male tribute for the 73rd Hunger Games is..." Rasia Lovevine, the District Four escort in a pink wig that looked like it might have been made from feathers, reached into the large glass bowl, clawing around for a small slip of paper that contained the unlukcy boy's name. Her fuschia nails scraped the side of the bowl.

"Sean McKinley" Rasia beamed out at the crowd, finding immediately where Sean stood. It wasn't hard. All the boys around him had taken a few steps back, giving him a wide berth. Rasia allowed herself a moment of disappointment for District Four. Sean was a nice boy, and handsome enough, but he was far too skinny for a tribute. He didn't have the making of a winner. Rasia silently apologized to District Four.

Sean was left alone with his shadow. Only Kevin Price behind him had not moved away from Sean like he might be diseased.

Rasia should have picked Kevin. He was strong, muscular, undeniably handsome, cocky, and brave. District Four would be proud to have a boy like Kevin in the arena.

Sean dropped Kevin's hand. He hoped the cameras had not picked up on that, on his squeezing of Kevin's hand.

It was only a few seconds later that Sean realized what had happened.

He had been reaped. He was a tribute.

He was going to die.

Everyone was going to watch.

All this was going through Sean's head as he mounted the stage. His legs kept him steady all the way to the platform.

He was going to die.

The idea bounced around in his head, still entirely in the abstract. What did that mean, to die? To not be there anymore? What did it mean, for the world to lose all of his thoughts and memories all at once? What did it mean, to be ripped apart or beheaded or stabbed or shot? What was it like to watch?

These were not the thoughts that went through Sean's head. There was no room in Sean's head for these thoughts.

All he was thinking was that he was going to die, unless someone volunteered for him.

Sean squinted against the sun as he stood next to the female tribute, a beautiful dark-haired girl in a flowing dress.

Rasia asked for volunteers.

Sean prayed.

He saw a hand go up in the crowd.

Sean almost fainted.

In relief.

In horror.

In heartache.

In anger.

The hand was Kevin's.

"I volunteer," he said.

District Four supposed Kevin Price was arrogant enough to think he could win.

Sean supposed Kevin thought he could save him.

It made Sean feel angry and protective and alone and desperate and in love, all at once.

Kevin passed him on the stage, brushing Sean's shaking fingers as quickly as he could.

"You can go now," Kevin said to Sean. "You don't have to be up here any more."

"Okay," Sean said. He looked at Kevin, trying to tell him in one glance how much he loved and hated him right now.

Kevin Price saved my life.

Kevin Price is going to leave me alone.

Sean did not believe in Victors.

He only had a few minutes to say goodbye to Kevin.

The room was wood-panelled, and had only artificial lights, and soft velvet seats.

Sean buried himself in Kevin's neck, clinging to him, and Kevin clung back.

"Why did you do that?"

Kevin didn't answer. "Sean?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't think of this as goodbye."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to win. And I'm going to come back."

"You have to come," Nabulungi said. "It's required viewing. It's mandatory. They've got the screens set up in the square and everything. If you don't come, you better have a damn good excuse, Sean, they'll arrest you."

Sean scratched in the dirt with a stick, ignoring her.

"They'll send you to prison. Seaweed dripping all over your hair. No soap in the shower."

Sean glared at her.

"I don't want to come."

"I know you don't, but you have to. Besides, it'll be better this way. I'll be there. I'll help. It's only the first day, Sean, he won't die yet. He's too strong. The career pack, they'll want him."

"And when he doesn't ally with them, they'll kill him."

"Or maybe he will ally with them, Sean. Look, Kevin's a good fighter. He's not going to die. Not today. And he wants you to be watching."

"You don't know that."

"Be as strong as he is, Sean. If Kevin can face twenty-three underage murderers, you can face a television screen. He wants you to watch. I know he does. And I know you do, too. You'll never forgive yourself if I have to drag myself all the way to jail to tell the news that everyone else already knows. Come on."

Sean shook his head.

"There are crowds," he said. "I can't do it. Pretend like it's nothing. In front of all these people."

"It's not nothing. They all know you two were best friends."

"I'll come with you, but I won't watch."

"Fine," Nabulungi said, knowing at least her primary objective of keeping Sean out of prison had been achieved.

Sean stayed true to his word. He sat in the grass and made buttercup chains and didn't look up at the screen unless he heard people screaming, or crying.

Kevin wasn't as smart as Sean gave him credit for. He didn't go and get himself killed.

But maybe that meant he was trying to come home.

District Four does not raise boys who grow up to be scared.

So when Kevin found himself curled up under a tree that he thinks may have teeth for the third night in a row and didn't close his eyes, not once, it wasn't not because he's scared of nightmares or scared of his fellow tributes or scared of a knife stuck in his throat or scared of dying.

It's not.

"It's down to eight," Nabulungi said by way of "good morning" as she collected Sean from his usual place on the docks. His feet were dangling in the water; his back was to her and his shirt was already grimy with salt water and sweat.

"Who died last night?"

"Alma. From District 8."

"Kevin hasn't died yet."

"No. He's gonna win, Sean. For us."

"Tell me that when he's the only one left. Naba, do you mind being my first mate this morning? I need to get on the boat, to go check the lobster traps-"

"Sean, there are 8 tributes left. The camera crew's already in the town square."

"From the Capitol?"

"No, from District 13. Come on, wash up and meet me down there. They want to talk to us."

"Wait, for the interviews? The final contestant interviews?"

"Yeah. You knew this was going to happen. Come on. Let's go win Kevin some sponsors, what do you say?"

"What do I wear?"

"And that might be the first time in my whole life you've asked me that question," she said with a chuckle. "Something nice. And, you know, ocean-y. Wouldn't want to perpetuate mindless generalizations about District Four's obsession with the beach, now, would we?"

It was less than ten minutes later that Sean had threaded his hand in Naba's, kicking up dust on the gravelly path that led to the Square.

"I can't do this," Sean said, barely disguising his panic. "What if they ask me about Kevin, about how I feel about him-"

"I'm his girlfriend," said Naba calmly.

"What?"

"I'm his girlfriend, you're his best friend, and that's it. The end. Okay? That way they'll ask me the emotional stuff. And you two won't be getting in trouble, mind?"

Sean didn't think it was the worst idea.

"Do you think Kevin's going win?" A perky, green-haired reporter shoved a microphone in Sean's face.

"I'd kill him if he didn't," Sean said with a shaky laugh. "He'd better."

"How long have you known Kevin?"

"Oh, he's been my best friend for a while now. Since he pulled me out of a tide pool with a crab nipping at my toes!" This was a lie, sort of. It wasn't so much that Kevin hadn't pulled Sean out of a tide pool so much as that had really very little to do with their friendship.

The reporter gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Is that what drew Mr. Price to volunteer for you, do you think? Brotherly love?"

Sean swallowed. "He's... he's my brother- my older brother. Kind of like a mentor. It was, uh- he wanted to show me. How to win the Games. So that I'll know what to do next year." Sean didn't think he'd ever made a less funny joke in his life.

"Of course, of course. Always thinking ahead- the mark of a true victor. What's Kevin's greatest asset, in the arena, do you think?"

"Knowing that we're home, waiting for him. He's playing for us, you know? He told us. He's coming home. For us."

"Us?"

"Me and Nabulungi. Kevin's girlfriend. My best friend."

"Oh, and this is the charming Miss Nabulungi right next to you, isn't it?"

"It sure is."

"You must be so proud of him so far. What a strapping young lad you have."

"Yes ma'am. We're all very proud of him. Me especially."

"And how do you feel, watching him take out other kids? I know you saw him kill that young boy, only 13, from District 3. What a dramatic moment, watching that spear hit his heart! What was going through your mind? Can you say?"

Nabulungi swallowed. "It means a lot to me. To know Kevin loves me even more than himself. That he'll do things like that, just to see me again. I know he misses me. I miss him too."

"Thank you both. We can't wait to focus the cameras back on District Four for Kevin Price's welcome home party! I assume you two will be hosting it?"

"Absolutely!" said Sean, with fake enthusiasm. "We couldn't be more excited."

There was blood on Kevin's hands and it wasn't his blood. It was blond blood, girl blood, district one blood, warm and sticky blood, staining his hands blood.

There was a cannon sounding in Kevin's ear and it was her canon, but it's his too, because how much of himself has he had to throw aside and stomp on and cut out and sever and let die in order to kill this one little girl?

The ground Kevin stood on is giving his feet blisters but all of a sudden he felt very cold.

Kevin won by tripping the boy from District 9. It was anticlimactic, really. He tripped him.

It wasn't even on purpose so much as the boy was chasing Kevin and Kevin careened into a branch and the branch fell and the boy didn't notice and he fell on it and Kevin heard the crash and turned around and a knife went through the boy's neck and that was it, Kevin would live to see another day.

Sean cheered when he saw it back home, and felt repulsed by himself. He was cheering because someone had died.

No, he told himself, I'm cheering because Kevin is still alive.

Nabulungi grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Kevin would understand," she said, "I'm sure he's cheering in his head right now, too."

It was easy for her to say. Her face hadn't slipped into anything but a look of grim pleasure.

"Are you happy?" Sean asked, massaging her hand.

"Ecstatic," she said.

"Me too. He won."

"We won," Naba said.

Kevin didn't understand why Nabulungi kissed him when he got off the train. He didn't know why she had elbowed Sean out of the way to hug him first.

I'll tell you later, she whispered in his ear. Welcome home, Kevin. I missed you.

Kevin kissed her back, grabbing tight to her hand and raising it, along with his, above his head, in a victory pose.

That was how victors were supposed to act, wasn't it?

We had to pretend, Sean whispered as he hugged Kevin tight. Sponsors like pretty girlfriends better than they like me.

Kevin had only even survived because he kept his reunion with Sean as the bright point in his mind, because he knew that seeing Sean again would be the only thing better than dying right here, right now, with the blood and the dirt and the sweat already half-way to suffocating him.

He slapped Sean on the back. Best friends.

Kevin's life was a strategy, wasn't it?

"Peppermint? Lemon candy? Chocolate?" Kevin asked. His fingers were entwined with Sean's, their arms swinging in tandem as they wandered the narrow town streets.

Kevin wasn't happy very often. But he was today, which was worse somehow, Sean thought. He didn't need that small feeling in his stomach trying to tell his brain that someday, things could go back to normal.

Things could never go back to normal.

Maybe they were better now, though. Kevin was rich. He could buy candy.

He could also try to forget about the four children he had killed when he was alone late at night.

Things were not better.

"Peppermint," Sean said, hoping a steady voice would conceal his thoughts. "Peppermint, and then I want to go down to the docks and I want to go swimming."

Kevin liked swimming. It didn't remind him of killing people.

"Will you race me?"

"Only if you're up to losing again," Sean said, smirking.

Kevin laughed. He had never once lost to Sean. Not even when Sean had grabbed tight onto his shoulders and refused to let go.

"Of course."

Kevin still didn't kiss Sean where people could see.

Kevin didn't like it when people saw.

Sean didn't understand why Kevin was okay with people watching him kill, but not kiss.

Sean didn't understand that Kevin was not okay.

"I got some formal correspondence from my best friends at the Capitol today," Kevin said, a tremor of a laugh running through his words.

"What'd they say?" Sean asked. They were lying on a boat, drifting gently towards some sort of horizon. Kevin watched the sun darken Sean's face as he peeled through oyster after oyster, accompanied by chunks of bread.

"Umm... it's more or less a warning that being gay is okay, except for when you're a victor and they have to whore you out to pay off their enormous debts created by the perpetuation of their damn victor-tribute system in the first place. In other words, it said, 'having a boyfriend isn't cool, Kevin. Your body is what we tell it to be. Your heart loves who we tell you to love.'"

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"No."

"Good. Are you worried, though? About what they're going to do to you?"

"No one's monitoring us out here."

"I know. I didn't mean, if you keep seeing me. I mean, what they're going to make you do when you get back to the Capitol and have to help them... pay off their debt."

"Maybe I'll offer to help them come up with a feasible financial plan instead."

"Kevin."

"It's not fair to you, Sean. Have a boyfriend who... you know..."

"Not fair to me? Kevin! It's not fair to you! You're the one they're going to be whoring out!"

"Not... it's not like that..."

"It damn well is and you know it. Kevin- is this dangerous?"

"Is what dangerous?"

"You not listening to them."

"Yes."

"They can still-"

"What?"

"I'm not- you know- I'm still in the reaping pool."

"Not gonna happen."

"It could."

"It won't. I'll- I'll find someone to volunteer for you."

"Kevin."

"I'll sleep with anyone- I'll do anything they tell me to-"

"Kevin. Stop."

"I'll-"

"That was a dumb thing to say. You're right. It won't happen."

Kevin dipped his foot in the water lying at the bottom of the boat, splashing it around and getting the bottoms of his pants wet.

"I guess not," he shrugged. "No reason to worry."

Kevin and Sean and Nabulungi watched the 74th Hunger Games in Kevin's sprawling new mansion, a white stucco home with wall-to-wall windows and jars of seashells on every counter. The television was bigger than the one in either Sean or Naba's home, which meant the dismembered arms were clearer, the blood, brighter.

Once the games started, Kevin didn't look away. Sean wasn't sure what he was trying to prove by watching every last drop of blood spill, every bone crack. By the time the girl from District 1 had her body swollen and distorted by those tracker jackers, Naba was practically wretching into Kevin's lap but Kevin was still staring at the screen, his face unreadable. Sean reached up and covered Kevin's eyes with his hand so he wouldn't have to see it, and when he took his hand away, it was wet.

"You're crying," he said to Kevin.

"I'm tired," Kevin said.

Sean nodded, holding out his arms.

It was then that Kevin decided that being a Games survivor was almost bearable if every Games after that could be spent safe, lying in Sean's lap and feeling Sean's gentle hands in his hair.

Those Games were the hardest Sean ever had to watch, although saying he watched them would be an exaggeration. Sean watched Kevin watch the Games, his jaw set and his eyes hard.

Sean watched people die and he kissed Kevin and he watched the boy and the girl from District 12 kiss and he thought about he was safe to kiss and let kids die and how the two onscreen were unsafe to kiss and had to kill the kids he was watching die and he thought about how in Panem, there really didn't seem to be like much of a difference.

By the time the boy and the girl from District 12 had won, Kevin seemed a little bit better. At least he was reacting to things, Sean thought. Kevin in rocking himself back and forth in response to those mutts with the human eyes was a much less scary Kevin than a Kevin who didn't react at all.

"I'm glad Katniss won," Kevin said over a plateful of oysters a few nights later. "I kept thinking, that whole time, that I would have a lot to say with her."

"And Peeta," Sean said. "They both won. Maybe you'll meet her on her victory tour."

"I'd like too," said Kevin. "Did you see the way she held out those berries? I bet she wasn't scared once in that arena."

"You're obsessed." Sean snorted. "I ought to be jealous."

"She's brilliant, Sean. She's on fire."

"Or her stylist is."

"He's brilliant, too. He's the one you ought to be jealous of. I'm going to ask Ms. Everdeen if she'll teach me how to use a bow when she comes here in a few months."

"You going to bring Naba as your date to the banquet?"

"Sean..."

"I know, I know."

"It'll be fussy and awful, anyway."

"I suppose."

"Please don't tell me you wish you were in my place right now because I get to attend a stupid banquet hosted by the Capitol."

"God, Kevin I- I wasn't implying that at all. Honestly."

"...I know. I just hated watching those Games, you know? It was- like nightmares, but awake. And glued to the ground."

Sean nodded. "Not really. Why don't I clean up and we can go walk on the beach?"

Kevin put on a Mockingjay pin that day and walked towards the boats.

Sean wished he hadn't.

"You're already on their list."

"Last time I was on their list, I survived."

"I know. I'm just worried."

"Thank you. But nothing's going to happen."

"You don't believe that. If you didn't think anything was going to happen, you wouldn't be wearing that pin."

"Maybe I'm just an overzealous admirer of Miss Katniss Everdeen."

"Yeah?"

"Well, she is very pretty."

"Aw, no, don't, Kev. Now I'm going to have to pout until you tell me I'm your favorite."

Kevin laughed, wrapping an arm around Sean's waist, surprised at his own comfort in doing so. He took on a fatherly tone.

"Anyone who looks at Katniss Everdeen and says she's "pretty" is probably certifiably not right in the head, Sean. She's a hell of a lot more than the clothes she gets thrown in, and I'd bet she wouldn't be too happy with anyone who suggested otherwise."

"Who are you lecturing? Yourself?"

"Maybe," Kevin said, relaxing a bit, pulling Sean closer. Their only company was the salty breeze flying up from the ocean.
"I really do admire her, though, Sean. I think we might- maybe- if enough people start wearing pins- do you think- the Capitol has to listen to us, right? If we asked for something? No one's ever tried before, I mean, tried telling the president and the Capitol what we actually want."

"You are really dumb, Kevin. What do you think happened to District 13?"

"Not in a peaceful way, in a diplomatic way. It's always guns, bullets, dead people."

"Hey, and guess what?" Sean rolled his eyes. "Guns, bullets, and dead people happens to anyone who wants something different. Doesn't matter how you ask, Kev. People who can kill you tomorrow don't care what you want."

"You're right," said Kevin, prodding a shell with his foot. They sat down in the sand, Sean rubbing the grains up and down his leg.

"But maybe if it was a lot of people..."

"A lot of people without a lot of weapons," said Sean firmly. "Look how nice the sunset is today. It's purple over there, see?"

"Beautiful," said Kevin, almost shyly.

Sean turned into him, bumping their knees together and gently lifting Kevin's chin.

"Be careful with yourself," he said. "You're the best thing I own."

Kevin laughed, throwing himself on top of Sean, knocking his head back into the sand.

"You don't own me, beautiful," he said, his face inches from Sean's.

Sean threaded his fingers into Kevin's hair, pulling his face down and erasing the distance between them.

"I'd take a lot better care of you than you do yourself." He ran a finger over the scar on Kevin's cheek, only barely visible after the Capitol skin treatments had all but performed a vanishing act.

"Okay, then. You can have me."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." Kevin kissed him, lightly, and then pulled away, gazing down at Sean.

"Hungry?"

"I'm alright."

"Well, I am. I'll make you dinner, okay?"

"I'll do it tonight, Kevin. You just promised to let me take care of you."

This time, they sent someone in person. He was tall, skinny enough for Kevin to circle him with one arm, and wore his hair neon blue.

He was not, Kevin realized, as commanding a figure as the Capitol had hoped. Kevin, very politely, invited him in for tea.

Sean happened to be in Kevin's bedroom when the man entered the house, his frazzled hair a shock of color that almost looked at home amongst the sky and the water.

Sean should not have been in the bedroom, but he was in the bedroom, and the door was opened, and it was clear from the man's face that he should not have been in the bedroom, that he should be hiding, that he should be in hiding- that he should be anywhere but lying on the bed of the trophy victor, wearing Kevin's shirt.

"Let's not dawdle," said the Voice of the Capitol in Kevin's own kitchen. "I have a meeting to be at tonight. It's in District 2."

Kevin failed to look impressed.

"Surely you know why I'm here."

"I don't, I'm afraid."

"You've been, ahh, what's the word for it? Acting up, Kevin."

"I'm sorry?"

"Of course, it's understandable. You're still young and very excitable. There's rumors going around and your brain isn't developed enough to understand them, or what they might mean for the future of this country-"

"Umm..."

"Kevin Price, let me cut right to the chase."

"I wasn't aware we were-"

"Mr. Price, if I may."

"Hospitality," Sean thought from the other room. "The Capitol likes to put on a show."

"You may."

"We're more than aware of what goes on in this district. We watch the beach, we watch the stores, we watch the boats."

"I'm aware, sir."

"We're also aware of that tiny little mockingjay pin you wore on your jacket yesterday."

"My- pin?"

"Your pin."

"Oh! Do you like it? I hear it's even more popular in the Capitol than in the districts. I heard everyone's wearing them all the time, now."

"Mr. Price, don't play dumb with us."

"I'm not. I'm- being trendy. I'm supporting the Games."

Sean in the other room buried his face in the pillows.

"Consider this your last warning, Kevin Price. The Capitol does not think you're as funny as you think you are."

Kevin gave him a mock salute.

"We have records of more of your conversations than you might think, Mr. Price. I'm not sure if you realize how much power a victor has-"

"Oh, I realize-"

"-over the hearts and the minds of your people, but you owe it to them to be, shall we say- more generous to your benefactors."

"My benefactors?"

"The ones who are responsible for this home we're in, who send you your weight worth in food every week."

"Oh, yes. My benefactors."

"I think you'll find, Mr. Price," said the Voice of the Capitol, "that it's not as hard to delete a victor's influence as you might hope."

Sean was getting angry with Kevin.

"After all that you go through to save your own life in the arena, you're not even taking care of it now that you're home. You know speaking out like this will only get you in trouble."

Kevin shrugged. "I feel like- I have something new to fight for now, you know? In the arena it was my life, and that was good enough, but sometimes, you can find something even more motivating. Like, this. This matters. Fighting back so I don't have to spend the rest of my life as the Capitol's whore, so I can spend the rest of my life in love with you without caring who sees- that matters even more. I don't care who I'm making angry, Sean. I'm making myself proud."

"You've always cared who sees us," Sean said, somewhat bitterly, "and I'm glad you're appeasing your conscious after killing those four kids-"

"Stop," said Kevin. "Stop it. Don't talk to me like that. I'm trying to do something good."

"Okay," said Sean. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't," Kevin said, and he looked angry.

"I'm really sorry," Sean said desperately. "You know I never mention- I don't hold you responsible for-"

"I know," Kevin said, "and I forgive you."

"I'm sorry," Sean muttered.

"Drop it," Kevin said. "We're going into the town square this evening and we're going to talk to anyone who shows up. About why they should start hoarding their guns. And wearing their mockingjay pins."

"They're going to catch us."

"You don't think it's worth it?"

"I think you're underestimating the swift action the Capitol will take."

"Right," Kevin said grimly, "because you have such experience in that area and I don't. Right."

Sean bit his tongue and didn't say anything.

The announcement of the third quarter quell was the scariest moment of Sean's life thus far. Kevin could be going back to the arena.

He had made the Capitol mad. They had sent him warnings, and they had heard him talking. There was no reason on earth they wouldn't just pluck him out of his stucco house, right off his green-fringed rug, and throw him to his death. There was no reason they wouldn't enjoy doing it.

Sean had watched the announcement sitting at Kevin's feet, his back pressed against the legs of the couch, his head near Kevin's lap.

He was glad, later, for the uncanny foresight, for his not having to see Kevin's face when they said they were reaping from the existing pool of tributes.

Sean gave himself exactly 12 seconds to calm himself before hoisting himself onto the couch, looking into Kevin's eyes, and saying quite calmly, "If they pull your name out of that reaping bowl none of them will be alive by the next morning."

Perhaps the Capitol heard the menace behind those words, because they chose Finnick Odair.

Those guards seem to descend like a flock of swallows. The peacekeepers were one moment guarding their posts, and the next, they had thrust their guns out, forming a wall.

"You can't come here," said one of the white uniforms. "Not authorized."

"My friend Kevin lives here. He gave me permission," Sean said. These men had never stopped him from entering Victor's Village before.

"You mean boyfriend?" Another guard asked, sardonically.

It was only then that Sean realized he was in trouble.

"I mean- I mean that Kevin Price, who is a Hunger Games victor and a beloved treasure of the Capitol citizens, isn't going to be happy when he sees you pointing your guns at me."

One of the guards laughed. "Come here, cutie," he said in a horribly mocking tone.

Sean hesitantly took a step forward. He could see Kevin behind his windows, the curtains pulled back. Kevin was smiling- was not smiling-

The gun slammed into to side of Sean's head. "No one really cares what Kevin Price thinks, when President Snow gave us direct orders for your arrest, now, do they?"

Sean had a vague idea that he had no idea what he was being arrested for.

One of the guards kindly knocked him to the ground, as his gun hadn't done the trick. Blood flowed from Sean's nose, from his head.

The same guard reached down and grabbed his hand, not even giving Sean the time to struggle to his feet before he dragged him to the waiting Capitol hovercraft.

Sean was aware of Kevin running out of the house, down the path, trying to catch up- maybe his Victor status would give him influence somehow- but Sean was pretty sure his Victor status was exactly the reason he was bleeding from the head right now.

Kevin screamed.

Sean screamed.

Kevin screamed louder.

Sean blacked out.

Maybe he should have been excited about finally seeing somewhere other than District Four- Kevin had always promised him he'd find some way to show him the Capitol some day- but he was too busy slipping in and out of consciousness.

It wasn't until after they took Sean that Kevin realized how selfish he was.

After they took Sean, Kevin climbed underneath his comforter and didn't come out for as long as he could. He mourned, and he ached, and he cried, and once he even prayed, although he didn't know how, and he mourned some more.

Kevin Price had the fight drained out of him.

And while he lay, a mess under the blankets, starving and shivering despite himself, Kevin realized how selfish he was.

He was not fighting. There were people out there who had lost- who had seen their loves die right in front of them- and they were fighting.

All he had done, all he had believed in- none of it, he realized, was for some greater good, or promise of freedom.

He had only wanted a better life for his Sean. And while not evil, he was certainly selfish.

Losing Sean had not made him vow revenge, take up arms, storm the Capitol. It had sapped the fight right out of him- it had made him run and hide like a child.

So, the Capitol had won, because it has disabled both of them in one blow, and Kevin was left with the knowledge that he didn't care about anyone's life but his own, and Sean's.

It was almost enough to get him out from under the blankets.

It wasn't until he saw the town square go up in flames that Kevin found the will to leave his house and hitch the next ride to the Capitol.

It was the water that drove Sean mad. It dripped down from the ceiling at all hours of the night, dampening his clothes, not enough to make him truly wet.

It was a shame. He could have used a shower.

The funniest part, Sean thought, and funny probably wasn't the right word, but he couldn't remember any good words right now- was that it was the water that drove him mad.

It wasn't the rats, with their click-click-clicking claws all over the cell floor.

It wasn't even the lady in the clean white coat who came for Sean twice a week so she could tell him horrible stories about horrible people who he thought loved him but who actually betrayed him.

Sean had resisted her stories at first, kicking and yelling all the way to her sterile lab, but after a while he gave up. Screaming to block out her noise was too much effort, and when he believed her, she let him take a shower.

Being clean reminded Sean that he was human.

And of all things to frighten him out of his wits, it was his old friend, the water.

In District Four, water was soothing, it was endless, it was a kept promise, it was always there.

In the basement of the Capitol, in the darkest of corners of jail cells, the water was an irregular rhythm beating its way into Sean's brain, until all he could think was about when he would hear the next plink of water, the next plop of mildew.

Other than the lady's soothing voice, the water was all Sean heard.

Until the day he heard hoarse shouts and gun shots just above his cell door.

"Sean? Is that you?"

Kevin didn't get a response from the figure huddled in the corner, covered in grime.

"Sean?" He knelt down next to the figure, whose face, mostly a mess of matted hair and scars, was pressed against the hard stone of the jail wall.

The boy who might be Sean was leaning on his arm in an effort to keep upright, his cheek indented by the rough fabric covering his shoulder.

Kevin reached over and shook him. "Sean? It's me. Kevin. From home."

The boy shook his head.

"Come on."

The boy slumped over.

"Sean? That is you, right? Do you remember me?"

A nod.

"Will you come with me?"

Sean shook his head.

"Please? I- uh- you're free now. The Capitol- they've fallen. It's over. We've got to form a new government soon, but right now it's kind of a free-for-all. Everyone's gone mad, they've taken to the streets, they're looting everything. Sean? Please come with me. You can now, you're free to. No one's going to stop you."

Sean squeezed his eyes shut.

"I know you're scared. I know they did unspeakable things to you. I know it's my fault that you're here, and I don't blame you at all for not trusting me. But, Sean, please- try to remember how much I love you."

Sean did not try to remember. He did not try for anything, except to wish that this boy, this painful relic of his past, the one boy he had mistakenly put all his faith in, this boy he hoped he would never have to face again because he wasn't sure he would be brave enough to say all the hurtful things Kevin needed to hear, would go away.

A horrible thought struck Kevin.

"Can you talk? Sean? Did they make you an avox?" He was frantic now, pulling at Sean's shoulders, wondering what kinds of bloody tortures Sean had been subjected to.

Sean shook his head.

"You're an avox?"

Another shake.

"You can talk?"

Sean nodded.

"But you don't want to?"

Again, a nod.

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. Will you come with me? We'll find some place to get you cleaned off. We can pretty much go anywhere, now, there's no rules anymore. I'll help you, Sean. Let me help you, please."

Kevin leaned in, smoothing Sean's hair back from his dirty face. "I missed you so much. I- I- every day without you was the worst day. And call me selfish, but I kept praying for the Capitol to fall so I could have you back."

Sean did not call Kevin selfish. He did not call Kevin anything. He lifted his hand over his eyes, blocking his face, and struggled to his feet. Kevin had to catch Sean, as he was too unsteady to hold himself.

"Thank you for choosing me," Kevin whispered.

"I didn't," Sean whispered back, his voice horse. "It's just that you seem to be my only option, at the moment."

I used to love you. I only remember that I don't want to hurt you.

"I understand if you hate me. It's my fault you were here."

"You betrayed me," Sean spat, his voice weak with underuse.

"I did... what?"

"You... you did. I know you did. You were supposed to love me."

"I do. Love you."

"You turned me in."

Kevin balled his hands into fists against Sean's accusations, not quite sure how to respond.

"Who told you that?"

"The lady."

"What lady?"

Sean just shrugged.

"What lady?"

"The pretty one. She was in charge of my re-education sessions. She told me why I was there."

"What did she tell you?"

Sean went silent again.

"Sean?"

"I don't trust you, Kevin."

They were walking down the street now, in bright sunlight, Kevin supporting Sean as much as he could. And although the neat Capitol streets were awash with refugees, soldiers, injured men and women, and even a few bodies, Kevin and Sean still managed to look out of place, with Sean in his canvas prisoner's uniform, his face smeared with dirt.

"There's a hotel right over there," Kevin said. "I don't think anyone would fight us if we just picked a room. Then I'll tell you what really happened." He was confident in the truth, that once he told it, Sean would remember, that Sean would forgive him.

"I don't want to hear it," Sean said. "I already know. They told me you'd come back with an excuse. They told me you'd try to make me believe your lies."

"They're not- never mind. Sean, I have a question. Will you answer me honestly?"

"No."

"Fine. Here, come on, let's go in here," Kevin said, pushing open the clean glass panel of the hotel's doors. The hotel, a skyscraper made from pink-washed glass, glittered in the sun. It seemed mostly deserted, and the woman at the front desk, her skin a pastel pink and her hair falling out of her bun, didn't even try to stop them as Kevin swiped a key from the table and pulled Sean along to the elevators.

"The fourth floor," Kevin said aloud, looking at the key. "Okay, come on."

The room was only standard for Kevin, who had seen far too many of the Capitol's greatest luxuries to be impressed by much. But for Sean, whose one experience leaving District Four was to get dragged to prison, the spacious hotel room was a palace.

The bathroom, too, heavenly white with fluffy towels and a bathtub with a damn control panel for all the rose scents and lemon bubbles to choose from, was a marvel. It was here that Kevin brought Sean, and gently, politely asked permission to strip him down.

"I'll do it," Sean said. "Leave me alone."

"I came back for you," Kevin said, before closing the bathroom door on the pieces of his former boyfriend.

It was a long while later that Sean came out of the bathroom, his hair damp against his skin, a towel covering as much of him as he could force it to.

"Here," said Kevin, stiffly, "some clothes I found in the closet. Whoever was staying here had to leave quickly, I guess."

The clothes hung long and baggy off Sean's too-thin body, and Kevin, who had been sprawled out across the downy comforter, sat up slowly, wondering if perhaps there was enough trust left in Sean from a long time ago. Maybe he could make him listen.

"I'm going to talk at you now. I'm going to tell you a story."

Sean turned his back on Kevin.

"Once upon a time, a year ago, I had the most beautiful boyfriend in the world. He was smart, and funny, and kind, and he cried into my shoulder when he wouldn't let the world see his tears. But I had to keep him a secret. Some people knew, of course. He and I, we had another friend, her name was Naba, and she knew. And the Capitol knew. The Capitol is a thing of the past now, but I'll remind you anyway. The Capitol took me away from my boyfriend and they imprisoned me in a place where it was hard to breathe because of all the blood and they made me a murderer and I didn't question it because that's how much I wanted to come home. To you. Good people do evil things, Sean. And evil people, they do evil things too. And every once in a while, a good person does a dumb thing. I did a dumb thing. I didn't protect you.

The Capitol told me to stop. They sent messengers and messages, clear as could be. They threatened me, but they didn't threaten you. If they did- I would have been- I wouldn't have- Never mind.

I thought, then, that I wanted to marry my beautiful boyfriend. And even more so, I thought that maybe people deserve to be free. But those in control of my life would never have allowed that. I thought maybe, if I fought them, and their power, I could win. I have killed children before, Sean, with my own hands. I am stronger than them, because I have survived. I survived my own conscience.

That's my story. That's all. I thought I could win. So I said things. Out loud. Where people could hear them. I wore a pin. I was dumb, and I couldn't win, and they wanted to punish me, so they took you. My beautiful, beautiful boyfriend, the best part of my life, who they, the most hated people in my life, got to know about, when I had to keep it a secret from everyone else.

They dragged you away where I could see it, and I saw you trailing blood all the way onto their hovercraft.

I thought about crying.

Did I betray you? I didn't keep you safe. The Capitol told you that you were the rebel, that I reported you to the authorities. The Capitol told me that after I killed someone else's daughter, or son, they'd leave me alone.

They lied to us, Sean. Both of us. I am not lying to you right now. It's my fault that they took you. I didn't betray you.

Do you believe me?"

Sean shrugged.

"Will you let me stick around so I can prove it to you?"

I don't want to believe what the lady told me, Sean thought. I don't know if I would have survived if some part of me didn't believe you wanted me back.

"Okay."

Back in District Four, Naba walked Sean out to the sea every day, asking him to take one more step in each time.

"It's cleansing," she explained. "The water washes away their lies, and the salt reminds you it's okay to cry."

"Whose lies?" Sean had asked.

"The Capitol's," Naba had said, looking confused. "Who else?"

"I think Kevin might have lied to me."

That made Naba laugh out loud, but she took Sean's re-re-education efforts in stride, keeping Kevin at arm's distance.

"I want to see him," Kevin said.

"I want him to trust you," Naba said. "I don't want your heart to get broken."

"Well, I don't either, but-"

"Trust me, neither of you are ready for this."

"If you'll recall, I was the one who went all the way to the Capitol to pick him up. And he came with me, remember?"

Naba sighed. "I just want your reunion to be perfect."

So Kevin watched Sean's silhouette in the water, aching to pull him in and dunk him under. He would pretend to be happy again, if Sean would get close enough to let him.

It occurred to him that he might even really be happy again, if he had Sean and Naba and the never-ending ocean.

But he didn't- he had all three to watch and none to love.

It was long past midnight when Sean tip-toed into Kevin's bedroom one night.

"Naba says I can see you now." he whispered.