"You've been to my district, haven't you?"
Mir's voice stretched out across the Gamemakers lounge in which Minho was, well, lounging. It was straining to ask his best friend such a question when Mir had been born and had grown up in district 10. It wasn't exactly a topic the two came across very often.
"Yeah, I live here," Minho mumbled distractedly, one leg across the other and his arm draped over the back of the bright green sofa. Mir supposed this was the colour of the grass that he was supposed to remember the smell and feel of from his district. The way it felt with dew dribbled over the tips and the way it sounded when the animals chewed at its roots. Mir was supposed to remember that, wasn't he?
But all this was just re-created imaginations. Perhaps his past of having his memories erased had dug into his brain and convinced him that it was better that way. As if he'd forgotten how to remember. As if he were a very new being who had no past but had only constructed one in mind so that they felt alive. However, right now, Mir felt numb.
Mir shook his head and strolled over to his friend slouching down beside him. He had expected the sofa to be hard from the sturdy look of it but was strangely surprised by the comfort of it. "I mean district 10."
Minho's eyes snapped towards him and gave Mir a slightly bizarre, bewildered look, "No, of course not."
At that point, Mir felt hurt and it was obvious that Minho could see that on his face as he drooped his shoulders, pulling his arm from behind the sofa and patting Mir on the shoulder. "I mean," he continued. "I'm not in charge of your previous district. I think Jinri is. Check with her?"
Mir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It sounded as if his district, his childhood home, was non-essential, not important. Was that really how Mir wanted his home to be seen as, the place where his family were living now? And how did his parents view him now that he was a gamemaker? Had they disowned him? Decided he'd died in their minds in the first games he'd ever been reaped for? Was it because they couldn't bare to see him die so had determined that he was already dead when he'd first left for the Capitol for that first session of training?
So many questions that hurt his head. Mir growled under his breath and stood up, striding towards the exit.
"Hey, wait," Minho shifted in his seat, a little more upright, a little more alert.
Mir turned round slowly to face his best friend. He raised his eyebrows and let a smirk tint his lips as a guard to make sure no one saw his true feelings.
"Why did you want to know anyway? You're not thinking of going back there, are you?"
Minho genuinly looked concerned, as if he thought he might lose Mir. That if Mir took a single step outside of the Capitol, that he was lost for good. Like the Capitol was some kind of protective forcefield that only worked for those inside. Mir shifted on his feet. Was Minho right?
Mir shook the thoughts from his mind and showed his friend a grin. "'Course not; couldn't leave you, could I?" Minho mirrored Mir's smile. "I just wanted to know what it looked like. You know, after these years being... away."
With a smirk, Minho nodded, letting out one of his short laughs. "Cows?" he shrugged with a chuckle, suggesting what district 10 might look like. "
Mir reflected his best friend's laugh but he felt far too empty to laugh with feeling. Cows. Was that all he was going to get from anyone as an answer to his question?
Cows.
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