Kurt stepped onto the green and squinted into the sunlight. He loaded an arrow and pulled it up, aiming as far into the distance as he could.

“Good shot.”

The voice didn’t startle him; he reached over his back to pull another arrow out but didn’t turn around.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, pulling another arrow into his bow and aiming in the same direction.

“Ready for tomorrow?”

Kurt sighed and turned around, lowering his bow. The light blue eyes of his mother bore into him; she had her arms crossed over a simple white dress which was bought together across her waist with a thin black belt.

“You know I am.” He said, raising his arm back up and turned back to face the open grassland. He released the arrow, watching as it disappeared out of sight. He turned to walk towards his mother.

“Your father’s home. He wants to speak to you.” She said before she turned and walked across the field. Her black pumps treading carefully across the grass until she reached the small path down back towards the house.

Kurt dropped his bow into one hand and followed his mother’s steps. He walked down the small winding path until it dipped into his lane, where he slowed down and slung his bow across his back, sitting comfortably over his sheath of arrows. One hand moved to brush through the front of his hair as the other found its way into the pocket of his jacket. He moved into the street, and headed towards his house.

“Hey, Kurt.”

He turned to the boy who jogged to his side, a big grin on his face.

“Hey Finn.” He replied, grinning.

“Excited for tomorrow?” The boy bounced.

“Of course I am. Are you?” Kurt smirked.

Finn scoffed and punched his arm playfully. “Shut up.” he returned.

“Oh don’t worry little brother. You’ll be eligible one day...” Kurt said, wrapping his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders.

“Next year!” Finn bounced.

Kurt laughed. “You won’t go next year. You’re going to be twelve, Finn.”

“I’m eligible once I’m 12!” Finn whined.

“Even if you don’t get picked, and you volunteer, twenty 16 year olds will volunteer as well, and who do you think they’re going to pick to represent District 1? A twelve year old boy, who has barely begun training or a 16 year old who has been training his whole life?” Kurt smirked.

“I’ve been training!” Finn defended.

“Alright. Just...don’t get your hopes up alright?” Kurt said, removing his arm from the younger boys shoulder and turning towards the door of the house on his left.

“Fine.” Finn mumbled before he jogged down the lane yelling after his friends at the end.

Kurt laughed under his breath and pushed the door open, letting it swing shut after him

“Kurt?”

Kurt kicked his boots off next to the door and walked through the doorway into the lounge.

“It’s me.” Kurt replied, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a contented sigh.

“In here, please.” His voice was stern, and Kurt headed towards the kitchen.

Kurt walked into the kitchen and saw his father seated at the table. His tie was slightly loosened, and his jacket hung on the back of his chair.

“Have a seat, son.” He motioned towards the chair opposite him, placing his mug onto the table. Kurt pulled his bow and arrows off his back and placed them in a small basket just to the right of his kitchen door. He unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off, his mother taking it from his grasp as she walked out of the room. He walked over and sat down opposite his father.

“Kurt, I’m very proud of you. You’ve trained exceptionally.”

“Thank you.” Kurt smiled.

“I think we all know this is your year, you’re 17 now and I think you’re going to be great. You’re stronger than any of the other districts can think.”

Kurt nodded. “I’m ready.”

“I know you are. Which is why I want you to take this,” he slid a small brown paper bag across the table. “with you. As your district token.”

Kurt slipped his hand onto the table and dragged the paper bag to the edge. He pulled it open and peered inside gingerly, completely unsure of what to expect.

His fingers latched around the small item and left the bag on the table, turning it over in his hand. His fingertips rolled over the engraved word.

“It’s a broach, Kurt. It was my grandfathers. He handed it to my father when he became eligible for the games, and my father to me, and I was going to give it to you when you turned 12, but I knew the year when you would step forward would be the year which you should have it. So, I want you to take it in with you, and never forget what you’re fighting for.” His dad explained.

Kurt nodded. “Courage,” he whispered, tracing his fingertips over the engraftment again.

“Something I know you’re not short of. Now go on, collect Finn and make sure he’s ready for dinner.”

Kurt nodded again and rose from the chair.

“Thank you, dad.” He said.

“You’re welcome, son.” His dad replied, pulling his mug back to his lips.

After dinner, Kurt helped his mother wash the dishes and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he started towards the stairs.

“Please be awake on time, Finn.” He heard his father say from the kitchen. “We can’t afford to be running late because you’re sulking that you’re not eligible yet. You still must be present.”

He heard Finn groan and mutter a response and then he ran up the stairs past him. Kurt sighed and climbed the stairs after him, hearing Finn’s door slam before he was half way up them. He took the last few stairs two at a time and walked into Finn’s bedroom, clicking the door behind him.

“Hey monkey.” He said quietly as he walked a little towards Finn’s bed, where Finn was flopped on his stomach, facing the wall away from Kurt.

“Don’t call me that.” Finn muttered stubbornly.

Kurt pouted a little. “Hm. Too old for monkey, are we?” He grinned.

“I’m 11. I’m not 5.”

Kurt sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. “Oh I’m sorry. How you holding up?” He tucked a tuff of hair behind Finn’s ear that had spilt forward. Finn wriggled slightly, but not out of the way of Kurt’s hand.

Finn didn’t answer, and Kurt pulled his knees to his chest to sit more comfortable, hand still idly combing through his little brother’s hair.

After a few minutes, Finn sighed and turned a little to look at Kurt.

“I’m not upset about not being eligible. I don’t-” he sniffed. “I don’t even want to go in. I’m not strong or fast like you. I can’t fight and I don’t have any skills. I’m not training because I can’t. I’m-”

“Shhh,” Kurt soothed. “You’re perfect, just being Finn.”

Finn snuggled into himself a little bit, and Kurt’s face burrowed in confusion.

“Then why are you up here all alone?” he pondered.

Finn turned his head into his chest, avoiding eye contact.

“People die in the games.”

Kurt chuckled, it was a little dark really, laughing at something like this, but it was just so obvious.

“That’s sort of the point.”

“I know. But tomorrow you’re going and-”

Kurt smiled sadly; he watched Finn struggle for words but nothing came out. A single tear rolled down Finn’s cheek and Kurt’s heart broke a little bit. They’d always been really close, Finn wasn’t the brightest at school and people had made fun of him for a while, Kurt couldn’t count the amount of times he’d rocked Finn to sleep from crying and had to tuck him into bed, cheeks still damp from the tears.

“You doubt me too much,” Kurt grinned, trying to cheer the younger boy up a little.

Finn looked up at him through glassy eyes and Kurt just smiled.

“I’m going to win this thing, Finn.”

Finn sniffed, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.” Kurt nudged Finn’s knees with his elbow, and let his legs drop to the floor. He removed his hand from Finn’s hair with one final ruffle.

“Get some sleep; we have to be up early tomorrow.” Kurt said, standing up. He walked towards the door, pulling it open as Finn’s voice rang out.

“Love you, Kurt.”

Kurt smiled. “Love you too, monkey.”

The following morning, Kurt had just finished breakfast when they heard the horns in the street. His mother looked at him, and collected his plate to put into the sink with the others.

“Slip your boots on son.” She said, and then she turned to Finn. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Finn nodded, zipping his jacket up further and smiling at his mother, she ruffled her hand through his hair and then turned back to Kurt who was tying his shoelace.

Kurt stood and walked to open the front door, his mother and father filed out and Finn looked up at him with a small smile.

“Come on monkey,” he commented, patting him on the back and encouraging him towards the door.

“Not when we’re outside Kurt...” Finn moaned, and Kurt just laughed shutting the door behind him.

“As always...ladies first!” Polly Birch’s voice rang out melodically over the speakers surrounding the city square.

The large screens showed as her pale petite hand reached into the glass bowl and pulled out a tiny slip of paper. She moved painfully slowly back over to the microphone and read out the name.

“Susie Candlewood.”

A small girl from the front of the girls square – which told of her very young age – stepped forward, accompanied by two peacekeepers dressed in complete white uniforms. They escorted her to the stage, where Polly smiled through her bright red lipstick at her.

“As always, we must ask.” She paused and licked her lips. “Any volunteers for female tribute?” Her voice was loud, clear and sharp.

At the end of her sentence, close to a dozen girls stepped forward from the area closest to the back of the square – signifying their older ages – into the middle isle separating the male and females. Polly looked directly at Susie first, and when Susie didn’t appear to move at all, she turned back to the crowd.

“Very well. Volunteers please follow the peacekeepers.”

There were a few moments silence as the volunteers cleared the area and followed three peacekeepers behind the stage, and then Polly smiled directly at the camera.

“And now...gentlemen!” Polly winked at the camera, trying to add some kind of humour to this day.

She moved to the right of the stage and rummaged for a second before pulling out an identical slip of paper and moving back to the microphone to unravel the slip.

She coughs, as if delaying the process and then speaks the name clear and crisp.

“Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt tenses for a split second. He never thought that he would get reaped, it was just something that had never occurred to him. He was perfectly ready and trained to volunteer and present to the peacekeepers, Polly and the past victors what he could bring to the games, and he was ready to be selected from the volunteer selection.

He grinned at this change of events, and walked proudly to the stage, escorted by two tall male peacekeepers.

As he stood on the stage, opposite tiny Susie Candlewood, Polly stepped back to the microphone.

“Any volunteers for male tribute?” Her voice rang out high.

As expected, she looked directly to Kurt first. Kurt saw more than twenty boys step forward into the isle, waiting to be taken to the volunteer section.

“I refuse volunteers.” He stated blankly, and Polly nodded in his direction with a small smile.

“No volunteers needed.” She announced and the boys made their way back into the square.

She gripped Kurt’s wrist and threw it into the air and yelled, “I give you, Kurt Hummel. Male tribute representative of District 1 in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games.”

*

Blaine tied up his boots and checked his shirt in the tiny mirror in his lounge.

“Almost ready, honey?” His mother asked, her dark brown curly hair pulled back into a bun, one or two strands left to frame her face.

Blaine nodded, smiling a small smile at her. He smoothed his shirt down and made sure it was tucked smartly into his pants when his father trudged down the stairs.

“You look smart.” He smiled.

“Thank you father.” Blaine replied.

His mother and father sat down at the small table and he joined them a moment later.

“We saved some bread, for today.” His mother uttered.

“Thank you,” he replied, tearing it into three so they could share the small ration.

“I was thinking that maybe after the reaping I could go down to the Hob and try get a squirrel or something?” Blaine posed. His mother smiled and thanked him, but the tension around the table was so prominent.

“How many times this year?” His father worried.

“Thirty three.” Blaine replied gingerly.

“Good luck.” His father added, and Blaine just nodded at him.

By the time that noon had rolled around, Blaine found himself stood in the middle of a large square filled with all of the district’s children. They were all wearing the exact same outfit which chilled him. It was stupid to dress everyone up for a day like this. Blaine watched on bored as the Mayor said his usual speech about what an honour it is to have children representing District 12 in these games, and then he announced Haymitch Abernathy onto the stage, who drunkenly fell into a chair. The Mayor looked on with distaste and then turned to his seat as Effie Trinket took to the stage, her pink her bigger and brighter than last year, Blaine noticed.

“Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!”

Blaine cringed at the over used phrase and her pathetic Capitol accent, it sounded so unnecessary. She spoke a little more about how excited she is to be in District 12 again, which tires every single person listening to her. She finally mentions the reaping.

“As always, ladies first!” she announced, moving excitedly over to the glass bowl. She reached in her hand, grinning directly into the camera trying to build the suspense.

As she removed the paper, she walked back over to the microphone and unfolded it slowly.

“Quinn Fabray!” She announced chirpily, grinning as a small blonde girl made her way towards the stage hesitantly. Blaine recognised her instantly, she was 15 years old and she was friends with his best friend’s younger sister. She was a really sweet girl and he knew that she would do well in the games, she was a fighter.

Effie asked for volunteers, but as always no one stepped forward, Blaine knew that Quinn didn’t have any sisters or female cousins so her chances of a volunteer were unattainable. Effie moved on quickly.

“and now the gentlemen!” Effie announced, prancing happily back over to the adjacent glass bowl. She wiggled her fingertips inside the bowl, playing up to the camera. Blaine bit his lip hard, thirty three times to have his name entered was a lot and the odds definitely were not in his favour, but his mother had told him again and again, “think about all those boys who are 18 and have four brothers or sisters and their names are in there over 100 times, think about that Blaine and the odds are definitely in your favour.” Blaine sucked in a breath and focused on Effie’s zoomed face on the big screen.

“Blaine Anderson!” She announced, crisp and clear. Blaine felt a hand on his back and realised his best friend Wes had tears in his eyes, comforting Blaine softly.

Blaine’s heart dropped but it felt like it was going to pound out of his chest all at the same time, he could hear his heart beat all around him and the peacekeepers were hurrying him and he felt like he was going to collapse. He could see his face on the huge screen displaying to the entire country who he was and he was suddenly very aware that he was going to die, he was going to die and he would never get to have dinner with his family again or to sleep in his own bed, or to ever work in the mines or any of that, he would never get a chance to live.

He found himself on stage as the Peacekeepers marched back down the aisle to their positions.

Again, Effie asked for volunteers, but as an only child Blaine knew that none would step forward. He stared on into the distance, knowing that he wasn’t to cry on stage. Last year the female tribute in District 12 had cried on stage and when the games started every other tribute knew exactly how vulnerable she was, and instead of killing her instantly they had all banded together to agree on how they were going to slowly cut away her limbs throughout the games. It was completely barbaric, but that was the games.

Effie turned to him and Quinn and motioned for them to shake hands. They did so, somewhat hesitantly and then Effie gripped both of their wrists and thrust them into the air.

“I give you your District 12 Tributes in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games...Quinn Fabray and Blaine Anderson!”

Within minutes of the anthem being played and ended, Blaine and Quinn were quickly and quietly surrounded by Peacekeepers and marched into the Justice Building. It was simple usual procedure but Quinn kept close to Blaine which Blaine wasn’t sure if he liked yet. Only one person lived, he didn’t want to get too close to anyone right now. He was escorted into his own private room where he sat gingerly on the edge of a large plump leather sofa and waited. The waiting seemed to go on forever, and he stared around the room, eyes fixating on a small clock on top of a mantelpiece. Time ticked on, and on, he wasn’t particularly paying attention to the time at all, just the way the little gold pointer moved mindlessly around the clock face. A loud click of the door opening snapped him out of his trance and his mother ran straight in, gripping his shoulder in her hands and throwing herself around him, sobbing heartfelt tears over his back.

“I’m so sorry Blaine, I’m so sorry.” she cried. He wrapped his arms around her, still refusing to cry, but he gave her a tight squeeze before she let go, bringing her hand to her mouth to calm her sobs. His father stepped forward and Blaine stood up, meeting the older man’s gaze. His eyes were teary, but they both knew that neither of them were to cry.

“Good luck, son. I love you so much.” His dad said before pulling him in for a hug. Blaine wrapped his arms around his father’s back and whispered “I love you too,” back to him. Blaine heard a new wave of sobs wrack over his mother and he felt so horrified to leave her like this.

“Look after her?” Blaine asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it out loud.

“Of course, son. Take care of yourself. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Blaine and his father exchanged a brief smile before his dad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold ring.

“Your district token,” he nodded to it. “We wanted you to have the family ring. It’s been something we were saving until your 18th birthday, but this seems more appropriate.”

Blaine took the ring out of his father’s hand and rolled it in his own. His fingertips lightly trailed over the simple pattern of circles and lines intertwining each other.

“Thank you, its beautiful.” he breathed.

“We were hoping that you could give it to the person you’d one day fall in love with,” Blaine noticed the use of the past tense and his body tightened at the loss of his family fresh in his mind. “And maybe you can, once you win.” His father winked at him, and Blaine smiled, relieved at the lightness of the conversation.

At that moment, the door swung back open and the Peacekeeper signalled for his parents to leave. His mother let out one last cry and kissed his cheek, gripping his shoulders so tight as if he was about to disappear. His father patted his should and wished him luck, and then they were gone. Blaine sank back into the leather sofa and put his head in his hands, slipping the ring onto his right hand ring finger.

The next hour blurred for Blaine. The Peacekeepers had come in pretty soon after his family had left and they escorted him silently to the car which would take him to the train station. He was quite glad for the silence; it gave him a chance to think. When they got to the train station, Quinn clung to his side again. Her face was strong but there was something in her eyes that screamed her innocence to Blaine. She was 15 years old, short with long blonde hair tied back into a messy bun. She had a handmade band around her head and Blaine couldn’t help but wonder if she had made it herself, he wasn’t sure why but he found it very intriguing...the way that the small green flowers entwined themselves with small white beads. It was beautiful, Blaine thought.

The cameras around them flashed and several people were shouting towards them as Blaine saw Haymitch drunkenly stumble onto the train, disappearing into one of the carriages.

Effie hurried Blaine and Quinn onto the train, telling them that they needed to get to the Capitol as soon as possible because tomorrow was going to be a big big day!

Blaine settled on the train in the first carriage Effie pushed him into and settled onto a small leather sofa, much alike the one he sat on just an hour or so before when he said his last goodbyes to his parents. He put his head on the armrest and let his body curl into a lying position as he idly spun the ring on his finger. Quinn sat opposite on an identical sofa, but she sat upright, as close to the edge as she could get.

“Is that your token?” her voice rang out, sweet and high.

Blaine nodded and closed his eyes after he saw her shoot him a pitying look. He let himself drift asleep there, but was woken up some time afterwards by Quinn pushing his hair off of his face and whispering to him.

“Blaine, you can’t stay here.” she hushed to him.

Blaine scoffed and pushed himself up, thanking her for waking him. Two Peacekeepers escorted Blaine to his own room on the carriage and Quinn to hers a few doors down. Blaine smiled at her as she walked past him and then clicked the door closed behind himself. He walked over to his bed, stripped off his jacket and climbed under the covers. It felt too strange, extremely surreal and definitely unwelcome. He felt as though they were raising him like a pig for slaughter. After a short while, he drifted off into a restless, uneasy sleep.

The morning after Blaine was woken by Effie knocking rhythmically on his door and declaring “Up up up!”

He stretched and dropped his feet down next to the boots he shrugged off after getting into bed the previous night. He saw a simple outfit laid across a chair for him so he shrugged out of his clothes from the day before and slipped them on. The dark black jeans fitting snug around his legs and he tucked the plain black shirt into them, allowing his boots to slide over the bottoms of the jeans before he grabbed his jacket and left the room.

*

Kurt’s smile faltered as his parents left the room and a small boy tiptoed around the corner and the door clicked behind him.

“Hey monkey,” Kurt whispered forcing a smile.

“You said you’d stop that.” Finn replied as he came and cuddled up next to Kurt on the plump sofa.

“I would never say that, Finnybear.” he teased.

“Okay that one. That one you promised!” Finn complained. Kurt laughed.

“Okay, okay yes that one I did I’m sorry.”

Finn sighed and cuddled into him more, automatically forgiving him.

“I told you you’d be going today” Finn said softly.

“No, I told you” Kurt said, smiling.

“Are you excited?”

“I’m determined. I’m not sure excited is the right word, but I’m ready to fight.”

“I’m excited.” Finn confessed with a wide grin.

“Why are you excited?”

“Because you’re my brother and now I’m going to be famous.”

“You’re using me to be popular? I’m hurt...”

Finn laughed and whined. “Nooooooo....”

“Yesssssss...” Kurt mimicked back.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Finn said as Kurt ran his fingers through the younger boys curling hair.

“I’m gonna miss you too. But I’ll be back home before you know it, and then you’ll be sick of me because I’ll be a victor and everyone will want to be my best friend instead.”

“I’m your best friend?” Finn said.

“Of course you are.”

“Always and forever?” Finn looked hopeful.

“Always and forever.” Kurt repeated pressing a kiss to his brother’s hair.

The door opened and a Peacekeeper signalled that it was time for Finn to leave. Finn clutched possessively around Kurt’s waist.

“I love you, I love you.” Kurt said over and over again.

“I love you too” Finn replied each time, never letting the chain end.

He walked towards the door and a Peacekeeper put his hand on Finn’s back, escorting him out.

“Bye monkey.” Kurt said softly.

“See you soon.” Finn replied. And Finn knew he would.

The door clicked shut and Kurt stood, knowing that the Peacekeeper would be back to collect him now to go and meet the other tribute. The volunteer.

Right on schedule, the Peacekeeper escorted him down a dimly lit corridor and into another large living area. The Peacekeeper then swiftly left the room, and another entered, followed by a fierce looking Hispanic girl. Kurt recognised her immediately. Santana Lopez.