A/N: And I'm back with yet another fanfic! xD
This one, as you can see, is a Hunger Games one, with a startling twist; the last two tributes have fallen in love, and there are no berries to save 'em this time. Gamemakers are out to destroy, and only one of them is making it out of there. Most likely a one-shot; tell me if you'd like more.
He had told me to drop. Fall. Lose myself in matter, erupt soundlessly into the night.
And I did so, sprinting away from him, from the world, from my destiny. I had leaped off a cliff and did the impossible; survive. What's more, this was the Games. This only added to my disbelief.
Some ally; left with an imploding volcano that had exploded into the ground, heating the right side of the arena into rubble, Yarrow had dodged my advice to run and shot me with his own.
Great, just great; I had to take his crap when he wasn't prepared to handle mine. I loved him too much to confront him about it.
Whatever: within a few days, we'd all be screwed anyway.
I should've known there was something wrong with this side of the arena…it was too peaceful. The searing heat served me an earned agony, and I ran faster, sweat pouring off my face in relentless waves.
I can feel Yarrow behind me, his hot breath in my ear, encouraging me to run on, run faster.
Searing bubbles of lava swirl from the ground in fire geysers; we're not ever sure where they'll pop up next, so we make a beeline for the lake in the center of the arena. Ironically, it's the one place cameras get a good look at us, so we were planning to avoid the open space.
Undoubtedly, this was a change of plans.
With silent communication, we brush hands and head for the lake. I feel like falling, crumbling to the ground and allowing the lava to finish me off. What's the point, anyway? Of living, when I don't have Yarrow?
Yarrow wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me along, tossing me easily over his shoulder as if I'm nothing but a doll.
And yet, I'm 5'6, sixteen, and verging on 127 pounds.
I can see the undergrowth approaching, the rocky ground halting as we crash through brambles and dive head-first into the lake.
Instantly, the heat is gone. Yarrow pokes his head up, and I do the same.
Our gazes meet, and his deep voice softens as he says, "We're still alive."
I push away from him as he tugs me close in warm embrace. He looks surprised. Normally, it's him refusing to cuddle.
"What a victory. Alive for another day," I say, voice cracking. "This isn't right. They'll let you out if I die, Yarrow. It doesn't have to be like this."
Alarmed, he shakes his head. "Roze, if you die, what makes you think I'll want to live?"
I don't reply and start stripping to bathe in the water, peeling off my black jumpsuit and throwing it aside.
Yarrow rises out, summoning strength from those large muscles of his. "I'm heading for the tress, Roze. I'm going to bring us Wanda's backpack."
Wanda. That was the girl from District 11, the girl who'd really believed she could make it. Wanda was our 13th backpack, meaning Yarrow and I had been together for 13 deaths.
What a lovely way to measure our love.
"Won't you take Tike's as well? He had some dried fruit, and frankly, I'm starving," I input, waiting for him to leave.
Yarrow stiffens—if it's at the sight of me or the mention of Tike, I am not sure. Tike was the brute from 3 who had tried to kill us more than once with either his fists or his wit…And occasionally, his large, bloody spiked ball.
He nods. "Wanda had a first aid kit and such. She packed smartly; I'm going to fix us up and hope the Capitol allows a sponsor to reach through."
"Doubt it," I say back, my tone tinged with sadness. Does nobody have enough authority to question President J. and just send us a stinking gift? Or are they all so horrible that they don't care about us?
Yarrow looks at my face, studying me closely before wordlessly turning and sprinting for the jungle.
I dipped my head under the water, the bubbles lifting and breaking the surface, popping in the blink of an eye as I enjoyed temporary serenity.
"Yarrow!" I call to him as I splash to the surface, suddenly frightened he won't return.
I get silence as my reply. I can feel it in my heart; something is terribly wrong with Yarrow. I shouldn't have let him out of my sight, I shouldn't have…
With the sun glinting down on my peach skin, I rise and race, barefoot, toward the jungle. As I get closer I can hear his cries of agony.
It's a mutt, ferociously attacking my boyfriend.
"Yarrow!" I scream again, salty tears hitting my mouth over and over.
I am weaponless; we left our bounty of weapons at our camp deeper in this forest. I would race and go get them, but I dare not leave him now.
He is fighting the large, brown, wolf-like creature, but it's no use. I watch desperately as the wolf takes a bite of his large bicep. It won't be long before that's all that is left of him.
Yarrow's agony is too much for my ears. I slam my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears. I can smell the blood though; taste the tears that have managed to break through.
Yarrow's voice breaks through, a high-pitched scream of last words. "I love you, Roze!" he says, and I can feel my mouth moving, hear my own voice ruined with sobs and pain.
"I love you too Yarrow, I love you, I love you," I say, opening my eyes, flinging my arms wide, and running straight toward the beast.
I fling myself in front of him and get lashed repeatedly, feeling the sting of its' claws cut open my face.
I turn and face Yarrow, flinging my arms around his neck as I kiss him full-on, squeezing him so tight that it stops his struggling.
It also stops his heart.
XxX
I hear the canon fire and see the mutt fade away, getting a glimpse of the spikes on his huge tail as he growls victoriously.
"Shoo!" I scream through my sobs, releasing the limp Yarrow, bending over him to sob. I don't want to leave the arena. I don't want to leave him. This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Why wasn't it me?" I scream again, banging my head to the ground. Whoever is watching me know, Capitolite or citizen of the Districts; even if it is the most calm person alive viewing me scream insanely, they must believe very strongly that I've lost my mind.
I recognize the demanding voice of the announcer who is smoothly instructing me to abandon the bodies.
What, so that they can wrap him in white, cover him and salt, and put him beneath the ground? I can hear the voice again, stern this time, demanding that I make like a pigeon and fly.
My hands trembling, I tap Yarrow's heart twice and lean over. I kiss the corpse and whisper nonsense in his ear—I take a hand, wave, sigh, and trample away, blindly hacking at the brambles that sting my face.
I can see a hovercraft pick up Yarrow's body; I suddenly see red and turn over in a bi-polar fashion, handing my heart to insanity.
"No, Yarrow, come back!" I yell viciously, my throat becoming raspy from all of the sobbing and screaming. I beat my fist against the ground and see my vision slipping.
As I faint I can hear the voice on the speaker excited and bubbly; "Congratulations! Roze Irappe, you have become the victor of the 74th Hunger Games…."
The last thing I see is a hovercraft with its' single claw extended toward me, plucking me from my safe haven of sadness and transporting me into reality.
A/N: R&R!