A/N:- I don't own the Hunger Games. Also, this fanfic is highly inspired by Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet.
"For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
It comes in flashes. Like a flicker of light from the matches. The sizzling sound clashing against the thunderous clouds, the light warding off the darkness brought about by the storm abound.
It burns, the flames licking his fingers but he doesnt mind. It hurt more when his face got burned. Hurt the most when she burnt.
He laughed darkly for he seemed to mock the entire world for their idiocy. Indifference. Only he knew who the girl on fire was. Who the real Mockingjay was. Without her, the world would be having none. And now they have none.
Did you not know Gale Hawthorne that these violent delights have violent ends and in their triump die, like fire and powder which, as they kiss, consume? For it is safe to keep a distance from the flames. You are bound to get burned when you get closer. But who are we to comment. A rebel's heart is what lies within you. It's all about breaking rules for you. Hasn't it been always?
The flame burns out with the last flicker, plunging the entire room into darkness only to illuminate for a moment with the lightning outside. Like a dark beast waking up from its deep slumber.
Another matchstick. Flames. Burning. Light. Dark.
He repeats the process again and again until the sticks run out. Until his hand are burned beyond repair and yet he yearns for more. For in that momentary flicker of light, he finds her. In its soft glow, in it's radiance, in it's yellow... in it's unfaltering ways to harm and in it's forbidden beauty.
It's a prosaic routine. He get's up. Goes to work. Comes home. And he wonders if it's really a home or a house of bricks and cement?
But it is the time at midnight that he lies awake in his bed. Awake for real. For it is then that he feels her presence more than ever. In the soft chime of the grandfather clock in his living room. The light from the flames in his fireplace reflecting on the black, pristine, untouched piano ringing out a heavenly tune so unique that it is only him who hears it. Her laughter reflecting in the stillness of the night as both of them, risking all for love, being a bit rebellious in their own way, play out the soft tunes of melody in the room attached to her back foyer while her father is at Justice Building and her mother lost in her morphling induced sleep.
"Give me my Madge," he wishes before going to bed every night. Peering out the window into the night leaking with stars, clear of clouds. "And if she is meant to die, then take her and cut her out in little stars. She will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will fall in love with the night."
A smile graced his features, first time ever since her death, his eyes shining with the light of stars reflecting in his eyes.
The shot from the gun cut open the night, ripping the silence in half.
"And pay no garnish to the sun."
A/N:- I know. Pretty depressing. Would love to hear from you guys. Like it? Hate it?
Also, if you haven't noticed, I changed my name from Aquiliz to Zyuette. :D
I will be posting occassional one-shots but I really don't have the time to type out an entire chapter. Please bear with me till I am done with my studies. Thankyou so much!