On the eleventh of July, his heart came crashing down.
one— She had always thought that concepts were hard to explain. You could try all you wanted, but no one was going to know it like you did.
No one understood that sympathy was a concept that you couldn't reject. But yet she did reject it; always. He didn't.
She stands there in a black mourning veil, not needing to fight the tears. He stands there with a white rose (September's favorite) and a black hat, unable to fight the stinging tears.
The rain drums down on rooftops and rolls off the gravestones. On the coffin it makes a cheerful noise; a plink! that would make a child laugh. He hates the way it sounds so cheerful. She loves the way it sounds enlightening.
"September Hayes, placed second place in the seventy-third Games on July eleven. District Four is, um, was, her home. She was nearly nineteen."
In the drenching cold of a District Thirteen field, the memorials are completed and the remaining few citizens of Panem leave their respects. He lays his rose on the coffin. She blows a kiss weakly in the coffin's direction.
He chokes back tears, crying softly. His tears in the crowd of four couldn't go unnoticed. She stares at the coffin. Somehow she knew that September didn't deserve her ending.
"She was your..." her voice trails off.
"fiancée, yes," he finished for her, burying his face in his hands.
two— Rag and bone. The bare minimum. He knew not to ask for everything. But had he asked for anything? Not since September died. But he still asked her.
Her hand sneaks onto his shoulder.
"I...I'm so sorry," she says. "She shouldn't have ended like that."
His smile looks so sincere, even when matted with tears and sorrow, she can't help but embrace him in a sympathetic hug. Looking down into her watering eyes, he tucks hair behind her ear with a subtle laugh and a smile.
She gasps. "I-I'm sorry, I can't do this. It's just that- you're not over her yet, and I can't fall for you. Not here, not now," she admits, turning away from him and staring at the coffin in tears. "These are memorials! For those poor, innocent children. Some of them stood there as they were murdered, and I just can't forget them all. You can't either. She was your fiancée! You're asking me for your rag and bone sympathy. You're asking me to cover you with a coat I'm not sure I have. It's like you forgot about her already, and..."
The truth stings him like the knife stung September. Standing in a pouring field, he stares at the empty fields in shock. He lays a quivering hand on the coffin. "How...how can I go on like this? How can I go on without September?" He had for years. This wasn't new. But somehow it was entirely different when she confronted him.
three— His heart was as hyper as anyone's. Truth had cracked it and left it starving on the water.
"Don't." His words came fiercely, without tears.
She gave him a look. "Don't what? Don't tell you the truth? To me, it's all lies, and-" She could hear her voice break with tears.
"Don't leave my heart alone on the water... that water is life and I can't go on with love any more. I don't want to get over you."
They were both in tears, turned away from each other. She let her tears run into the rain. He wiped his furiously, trying to keep his composure. But of course, you can't keep something you don't have.
He didn't hate her. She didn't hate him. They hated themselves for everything now.
Turning around, they locked eyes for a moment. "I didn't mean it," she whispers. He sniffs and wipes a tear.
"Because...'cause I don't want to get over you." She throws her arms around him, crying.
"Well, you don't have to. As long as you don't forget September, because..." she drops the sentence in tears.
"Because she died awfully," he finishes for her. She nods. "I won't forget her."
On the sixteenth of May, his heart came lifted up.
And they said "I do" like September would have three years earlier.
Prompt: "Don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water; cover me in rag and bone sympathy, 'cause I don't want to get over you." From "Sorrow" by The National
