The Fighters: Luxury Item
Series: The Fighters
Author: Drew Demeter
Pairings: Marvel/OC
Rating: T, just in case, though I don't think it'll really be that bad
Summary: The un-written story of Marvel, District 1 male in the 74th Hunger Games. Part 1 in the Fighter's series, pretty canon
Warnings: scenes of domestic violence and substance abuse, nothing worse than HG
Disclaimer: any characters, settings, and plot lines you recognize belong to Suzanne Collins, unfortunately.
Luxury Item
He wakes up to the sound of drums outside his window, and for a moment he blinks in confusion, wondering what today is. Then it hits him. Today is the reaping.
Anticipation floods through him. The reaping! If he is chosen, he will be fighting against 23 other kids between the ages of 12 and 18. Some will be bigger than him; most will be smaller and underfed. But it doesn't matter. He's been training for these games since he could walk.
His mother calls up the stairs, "Marvel! Breakfast!" and the smell of fresh-baked bread reaches his nose. His father is good friends with the baker, and he gets bread half price.
Marvel eases himself out of bed, squinting from the sunlight pouring in through the open window. At least it's warm, he thinks grudgingly. He hears that northern districts like District 12 are freezing cold in the winter.
His reaping outfit is laid out on the end of the bed, ready to be worn. Charcoal black dress pants, white shirt, a silver tie with glittery embroidery. Everything in District 1 is luxury. Even his shirt had diamond buttons.
He throws on his outfit and moves to the other bedroom, where his little brother Terry lies in a heap of blankets. Marvel shakes him, but the little boy just moans and rolls over. Marvel sighs. He tried.
Downstairs, his mother and father sit at the glass table, eating bacon and toast. When they hear him come down, his mother looks up from her newspaper and smiles, getting him a glass of orange juice.
His father looks at him over the top of his coffee cup.
"Big day, son. The reaping." He's never said it out loud, but Marvel knows his father is praying for him to be thrown in the arena and do the district proud. Join up with the other Careers; maybe even kill some scum from the poor districts. Well, Marvel thinks, this year he might finally get his wish.
His father continues, as he shovels in his breakfast. "Marv, if your name gets drawn, remember your strategy. Give your old man bragging rights."
Marvel just nods and butters his toast, shoving it into his mouth. He has to make it to the square.
Before his father can jump in with any more encouraging words, Marvel jumps up from his chair, hugs his mother, and flies out the door and down the stairs to the butcher's shop that his father runs. The shop has always scared Marvel, just a little- when he was younger, he used to pretend that the shop was the arena, and he, Marvel, had to fight off the other tributes. But he knows better now. The arena of his childhood was fake, and the tributes were only harmless slabs of meat. He knew, the real Hunger Games were different.
He has yet to learn that really, it is exactly the same. The arena is one big butcher's shop; the tributes are only hunks of meat, easily replaceable.
And the Gamemakers are the bloody butchers.
##
The sky is clear blue and the palm trees sway gently in the breeze. This is the one thing Marvel will miss if he goes to the arena- the beauty of One, the warmth, the sound of distant waves hitting the sand.
And, looking ahead of him to the middle of the square, Marvel knows he would also miss her.
Jade. Her long, blondish brown hair flies into her face as she stands, waiting for him. He can't see them from this far, but he knows her green eyes, as bright as the gem she was named for, are sparkling. To him, she is the most beautiful girl in the district.
The most beautiful girl in all of Panem.
The most beautiful girl ever.
She sees him coming and waves, smiling widely and showing dimples. She's not the traditional District 1 blond beauty, he thinks to himself. She's worth a million of them.
When they're close enough, Marvel reaches out and wraps his arms around her slender, well-built frame, so familiar, yet so unexplored. He holds her close, wishing that he could stop anything bad from happening to her. Almost wishing that he could take her slips out of the reaping ball.
Jade's parents are different from his. They sheltered her from the world for so long. She would never survive the Hunger Games- the other tributes would tear her to shreds before she even stepped off her platform.
He wishes fleetingly that he was a girl, so he could volunteer in her place.
But he can't.
Jade pulls back and holds him at arm's length, twisting a strand of his blond hair around her long finger. She has no idea how her smell intoxicates him, how he can barely restrain himself. Her own ignorance only adds to her appeal.
"Worried about today?" she asks, her voice coming out soft and fluttery, like one of the butterflies that sail across the district. He shakes his head in response, although that's only half-true. He wants to be strong for her.
She doesn't believe him, he can tell by her face, but she moves on anyway, to avoid hurting his pride.
"Well, there're only two more years left for us, right?"
"If you include this year," he says quickly. He doesn't say it, but he wants her out of the reaping as soon as possible.
She pulls back this time and laughs, a tinkling, happy sound. Marvel's heart hurts to think that he might never hear it again after today. "Don't worry Marv; you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine, even if I am sent into the arena. And you will be too."
Then her mother calls from across the square and she turns to go, planting a quick kiss on his temple that linger even as she floats away. He notices for the first time that she's wearing a white dress, the one with the lace trim and no sleeves.
His favorite.
Turning away quickly, he joins his friends before he can cry.
##
A boy from his class, Glint Hart, is reaped. Marvel feels his father's eyes on the back of his neck, almost daring his to volunteer. Quickly, before the other boys do.
Before he knows it, he's walking up to the stage, calling out in a loud voice that he volunteers to go to the arena in Glint's place. As he stands next to Glimmer, this year's girl tribute from One, he looks out into the crowd and sees Jade. Her eyes are filmy with unshed tears.
As he's broadcast all over Panem, standing on the stage, shaking Glimmer's hand, being herded to the Justice Building to say goodbye to his loved ones… he feels numb.
##
She flies into his open arms, trying to be strong for him.
And she's saying, "You have to win Marvel, you just have to." And then she's kissing him like it's the last time they'll ever see each other.
Which may very well be true.
All he can do is promise to try and win. And then kiss her back.
##
As the spear enters his neck, he tries to tell her that he tried so, so hard to come home to her. That he even killed an innocent little girl in his desperation to go home.
That he loves her, has always loved her, and wants her to move on and be happy.
But he can't make a sound as he dies in a puddle of his own blood.
A/N: So did you like it? I hope you did. :)
I'll be posting more one-shots about other tributes in Katniss and Peeta's Hunger Games soon, so check back or whatever for more!
And while you're at it, check out my story Broken Promises if you haven't already. It's a multi-chapter fic about Posy and to find out more information, you'll have to read it :)
One final note: Peeta is baking pastries right now for everyone who reviews…