title: heartstrings
summary: four times she pulled at his heartstrings, and one time she snapped them. — glimmermarvel
disclaimer: i own nothing.
i.
She was six years old, shy and beautiful. She met the boy named Marvel when her hair was still down and she liked to skip in the wind. They smiled at each other from across the playground.
Her laughter was silver and her hair was gold, and their childlike promises ("I'll be with you forever") blew away like the seeds of a dandelion, but they were everything.
ii.
He was twelve years old, and they sat next to each other at the training academy as the instructor explained how everything worked. They weren't really listening, and she whispered excitedly into his ear, a little possessive.
He smiled back at her, half-dreaming. His oldest promises were no more than wisps now, but so were hers. They didn't mind; they were still together.
iii.
She was fourteen years old, and began taking an interest in boys. Her hair was curled and put in waves and braided and styled every way imaginable. She learned to tilt her head a certain way, smile like this. Her instructors said that you can hit someone mentally, too, if you wanted to win.
He saw her flirting, smiling that not-Glimmer smile at someone one day, and he felt a little sick. Did it matter, though? No, back to training. If it worked, it worked.
iv.
He was seventeen years old, and he'd forgotten her. She'd forgotten him as well, too wrapped up in not-Glimmer smiles and silver laughter that was more like faux jewelry. Maybe a word or two was exchanged in training, but that was nothing.
He remembered her at the reaping, though, and I volunteer suddenly meant death to him. She shook his hand, and the touch of her skin made him shiver — the dandelion promises had suddenly come back.
v.
She was seventeen years old, and her cannon rang in his ears.
He watched her fall, no smiles, her hair falling out of its braids. She was sort of beautiful in death, but not in the same six-year-old way. Who was this? Who was he?
And it hurt. Faded memories that were nothing before fell, so crushing.
He turned and ran — what else could he do?