#short lang kasi inaan2k na ako and gusto ko mag-cuddle na sila asap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ㅤ ◟ ï๑ ♡ the victor's village was supposed to be a reward, a sanctuary. every child in district four grew up dreaming of these sprawling mansions, with their high ceilings and endless rooms. at the combat academy, the trainers instilled it in their minds—this was the life worth fighting for. the life worth killing for. but now that beau had it, he realised it wasn’t a dream. it was a cage. a polished cage designed to make him forget he was still trapped. the house was larger than anything he’d ever known, its furniture luxurious and its pantries always full. yet, it offered no comfort. the nights were too quiet, the silence punctuated only by the sound of the sea—it only reminded beau of the freedom that was always out of reach. he had survived the games, earned a life free from the reaping, free from hunger, free from fear of the arena. but in exchange, he had traded his soul.

district four was privileged compared to others, sure. its fishing industry brought wealth and resources, but most of it was shipped to the capitol. poverty still thrived in the shadows of its docks, where families scraped by on what little was left. and even as a victor, surrounded by plenty, beau felt like he had nothing. no freedom, no future. the capitol owned him, body and mind.

in spite of it all, beau had fallen so quickly—so easily—for tj. a peacekeeper. an enforcer of the capitol’s cruel order. someone who was supposed to watch him during the day, escort him to public appearances, and then leave him alone to fend off the night. but tj never left. not really. every time beau whispered a quiet request, tj stayed. it would’ve been so easy to walk out and leave beau alone with his nightmares. but he didn’t. beau felt a flicker of warmth—something close to happiness—at the thought.

“you don’t have to sleep on the couch,” beau said, his voice almost shy. “there’s plenty of space in my room.”

it was strange, how tj respected his space so deeply. he was the only one who did. in the capitol, boundaries didn’t exist. people took what they wanted from beau without hesitation, without care. and now, here was tj, offering something so simple yet so foreign—respect. beau wondered when he’d started soaking up the bare minimum like a sponge. when something like this—a single person treating him like a human being—began to feel like a rare gift.

he hesitated before speaking again, his fingers curling into the fabric of his own shirt. "come with me to bed... please?" he then reached out, gently taking tj's hand and guiding him toward the bedroom. their footsteps echoed softly in the hallway, the sound blending with the distant crash of the sea.

beau's room was immaculate, cleaned daily by a housekeeper who arrived like clockwork every morning. the bed was perfectly made, its pillows fluffed and its sheets smooth. it looked inviting, like a haven, but beau knew better. no matter how comfortable it appeared, he could never find peace in it. couldn't ever sleep properly. he settled on the edge of the mattress, the covers cold against his skin. his heart pounded as he gazed at tj, suddenly nervous. not because he was scared, but because the thought of being this close to tj—of sharing a bed with him, of being held—made his chest tighten. the scent of his last capitol visit still clung to him, the expensive perfume faint but suffocating. it was all beau could smell, and he hated it. he wondered if tj noticed, if it bothered him.

* ㅤ ₊ ౨ৎ ˚ it’s impossible to miss the sudden shift in beau’s gaze. it’s so subtle, so fleeting, that anyone else might overlook it— but tj doesn’t. he sees the wetness forming in his eyes, the tiny cracks breaking through the foundation, powder, and eyeshadow he just wiped away. beau is breaking, unraveling, shedding more layers of himself than just the makeup that hid his face. tj sees it all in his eyes— the pain, the exhaustion, the unbearable weight of everything he’s carrying. and as he looks at beau’s drained, fragile state, tj feels the same ache rise in his own chest. it’s startling, almost cruel, to realize he can still feel this way— this pull of compassion and care— especially for the man who took his sister’s life. but he does.

it’s ironic, merciless, how his heart betrays him, flipping his convictions because of a growing curiosity about beau. and now, all he wants is to wrap his arms around him, to hold him close and promise him safety, love, and comfort. to tell him he’ll never have to live in fear again. but tj knows that’s a lie. it’s the cruel truth of their world: fear is inescapable. no matter the luxuries the capitol gives the victors, no matter the glimmering facade of their lives, they will never know peace. not while the capitol still owns them.

he almost wants to risk it all— to share the dangerous plan he’s been turning over in his mind with beau and see if he’s willing to take the gamble. it’s reckless, perilous, a choice that could end in life or death. they both have families, people they care about, and tj knows the capitol’s cruelty well enough to predict the consequences. if they were to run away together, disappearing into the woods and making the desperate trek to district thirteen, it wouldn’t be long before the capitol retaliates. their families would be the first to pay, their lives brutally taken as a warning.

running away would be selfish, an escape paid for by the sacrifice of others, and as much as tj has tried to harden himself, to become the heartless peacekeeper he’s supposed to be, he can’t stomach the thought of it. he still wants to keep them safe, to protect the people who mean the most to him. if there were any other way— any path that wouldn’t cost so much— he would’ve taken it long ago. but the weight of that impossible choice lingers, the kind that could either free him or destroy everything he holds dear.

it’s selfish— unbearably selfish— that his first thought of running away was with beau. since when did beau become his priority? tj glances at him and no longer sees the man he once hated. now that he’s uncovered beau’s truest self, the cracks beneath the capitol’s mask, he knows without a doubt that he’s willing to risk his life for him. that’s his job anyway. as a peacekeeper, your life isn’t your own. you’re trained to take lives, knowing yours could be taken just as easily. soldiers like him— whether skilled or overlooked— are replaceable. a single shot, a harsh punishment, and you’re gone.

so tj thinks, if he’s destined to die, then losing his life to save beau would be an honorable way to go. that’s how much he values him. enough to want him to live, even if tj can only watch from a distance. enough to want to see beau smile again, to learn how to love, and to finally live without fear. tj would do anything to protect him— anything to make sure beau gets a chance at the freedom his sister never had. it’s the least he can do, even if it means giving up everything.

will you stay with me?

there’s no doubt about it— he’d say yes without hesitation. curfew is long past, but no one cares where he is. tj has made himself so invisible among the peacekeepers that he’s certain none of his comrades would even notice his absence. so, of course, he’ll stay the night if it means ensuring beau’s safety. there’s no real danger in doing so. he knows better than anyone that if someone so much as lays a hand on one of the capitol’s victors, they’ll be hanged by morning.

but deep down, tj knows this isn’t just about safety. this is the perfect excuse to linger, to be around beau a little longer. to learn more about him beyond the public facts the capitol makes available. he wants to see the unfiltered version of beau— the good and the bad. he craves the small, intimate details of his life, the parts of him that don’t make it onto screens or in interviews. it’s selfish, he knows, but tj can’t help wanting to understand him better, even if it’s only for tonight.

“ of course, ” tj says without hesitation, the words slipping out before he even thinks. at this point, he knows he couldn’t refuse any of beau’s requests. “ i have nowhere else to be. ” and it’s true— he’s chosen this solitude. tj never let himself make friends, never allowed anyone close enough to share his secrets or thoughts. attachments meant vulnerability, and in his line of work, where death could come at any moment, vulnerability was a risk he couldn’t afford.

yet here he is, already too attached, too close to the man he once wanted dead. the man who, against all odds, made his heart start beating again. tj swallows hard, resisting the urge to reach out— to take beau’s hand, to walk him to his bedroom and tuck him in like someone who deserves comfort and safety. but he stops himself. he knows beau’s boundaries and refuses to cross them. the last thing he wants is to make him feel unsafe, even around him.

“ um, i can take the couch, ” he offers, keeping his voice steady, though his chest feels tight. “ or, if you don’t want the couch messed up, i can sleep on the floor. just hand me a blanket. ” tj forces himself to maintain that distance, that unspoken boundary, even though deep down, he hopes beau might ask him to stay closer instead.