Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Nor do I own anything by Fascinating Aida, which provided the basis of this oneshot.
A/n: Despite being basically retired from this site to work on my own project, this suddenly hit me and I found myself writing it. Hope you enjoy.
Two People
I watched two people fall in love and one of them was you.
All those hours I watched you and her talk. Your gentle manner, your easy-going humour, your stolid presence seeped out of you. It encompassed everyone around you. We were all drawn to you.
And in the end it came to nothing. Because I watched two people fall in love and one of them was her. But it wasn't with you. You were so wonderful but your hair was the kind of blond which reminded me of summer, not coal-dark and dashing. Your voice was quiet and calm but it didn't cause the birds to fall silent when you sang. You loved so desperately but you couldn't sweep her off her feet.
I watched two people fall in love and one of them was him.
He took her to the Seam. I rarely saw her. I rarely saw him. I only saw you and the crushing devastation she left you with.
I watched two people fall in love and one of them was me. It was never just that you were from the town as well or that you could be a talented baker. Everything you tried to give to her, I wanted for myself. Someone solid as a rock. Someone kind. Someone funny. Someone who could smile at you and make you feel like you were the only person in the world.
That's why I spent time with you. Not just to help you get over her but to make you realise that there were other women in District 12 who would love you even if you couldn't cause birds to fall silent. One specific woman in fact.
And it worked. Slowly but surely, I watched two people fall in love and after a time, one of them was you. That's what I thought. You proposed to me on that warm, summer evening and handed me a beautiful ring. You always thought I craved the best. I don't think you realised that for me, anything you gave me was perfect.
We were so happy then. Everything seemed so perfect. The man from the Seam was gone from our lives and we had a son. And another son. And another son. At the same time as our third son, she had a daughter, who looked just like him. But for me, it didn't matter. I watched several people fall in love and three of them were our sons.
I don't know when it changed. I don't know if it changed. One day, I watched you and you were still in love – with someone else. It only took one innocent question from our eldest son for me to snap at you. You protested your devotion to me in that gentle manner which no longer made me smile. Your hair flopped over your face and I felt nothing. Winter sunlight shone over us. I felt as cold as I had done watching you watch her.
You tried to talk to me but your humour seemed to fall flat. I shouted at you. The boys cried so I shouted at them too, unsure of what to do.
Our conversation became more and more polite. I looked at you, some mornings, and wondered why I married a stranger. You'd tell me stories about customers you'd spoken to during the day but it was no longer fascinating. I'd complain about bad bargains I'd gotten at the butchers while you would nod absently, your mind clearly focussed on someone else.
I've never been perceptive but I listened to my sons, back then. Even though I would get so angry that they would hide from me. And after our youngest son's first day at school, I knew what was going to happen. I would watch two people fall in love and one of them would be him. But I couldn't let him. I wouldn't let him end up like us.
Things got worse. I discouraged her and her family from coming anywhere near us. You continually watched her. Their youngest daughter had her blonde hair. I heard you start giving them lower deals. It wasn't to be a good neighbour. It was for the little girl who looked like her. I confronted you about it. You shouted at me, when the boys were asleep. It was the first time. It passed for the longest conversation we had had for weeks.
We went on in mutual disagreement. Your quiet manner stopped making me feel content and started sounding suspicious. The look you gave me was reserved for someone else. You couldn't make me laugh. You spoke to me only to tell me to stop shouting at the boys. But they took your side and you weren't perfect. No one could see that. No one except me.
And one day, we woke up and you asked me where we could go from here. I looked away, not even willing to answer your question. You asked me what you could do to take us back to that happy time. I simply left the room. You didn't ask me again. Your hand stopped trying to reach for mine. You still watched her when you could. But we both knew what had happened. I had watched two people fall from love – and both of them were us.