Why can I write all this but I can't update my SYOT?
Hazelle doesn't ask. She never questions where he goes during the airing, never wants to know. She won't press him for questions because she knows how hurt he is inside, how his heart is tearing into pieces in his chest. She can see the pain on his face, the eyes now filled with torture and sadness, and she won't force him to talk.
He sees them sometimes, in the square. The two blondes, one disorenited and distant, the other alert, eyes always brimming with tears just threatening to fall. They confine themselves, don't speak to anyone other than him, when he delivers them food. Her face, so small and broken, softens slightly when she hands him her goat cheese, her small hand squeezing his lightly in the passoff, the only reassurance she can hope to offer him.
The first night, the night of the chariots, he finds himself wandering the streets before it starts, hoping to run into a Peacekeeper or two, hoping to be punished, brutally so, for not watching. Hoping to feel something, anything, for the first time since she volunteered. Instead, he finds her.
Pain laced on her face, kneeling beside the door of her extravagant house, the skirt she wears stained from the mud on the ground, sobbing helplessly into her hands. He stands there for who knows how long, staring down at her until, sniffling, she looks up at him. They don't speak as their eyes meet, sharing sadness and pain and loss and hopelessness, and he realizes that maybe Katniss means as much to her and she does to him. After too much time has passed, she stands slowly and offers him her hand. He takes it without hesitation and she leads him inside, through hallways more extravagant than he's seen in a long time, even with threadbare carpets and peeling wallpaper, into a room he can't identify, with four chairs and a television. When he realizes the implications, he backs up, but she turns it on anyway.
It's already started. He can see the tributes from Two roll out, looking triumphant in gold plated armor, two warriors ready for battle, huge and lethal and horrible and fear grips him so tight he couldn't hope to make a sound. More tributes pass, each more extravagant than the last, beautiful and powerful and commanding in their own ways, and he can't breathe, can't speak, can't move as their chariot rolls out.
And then Madge is gasping, rushing closer to the screen to get a better look, her fingers reaching out tenderly to touch the flames as if they might actually burn her, and he sighs because she's so beautiful, so rapturing and complete and whole and it doesn't seem as if she was even still alive until this moment, seeing her all aflame in the chariot.
"It's…." Madge whispers, as if the slightest sound might extinguish her flames, make her any less glorious than she actually is. He takes a deep breath, then another, and another, and hope grips him for the first time. Hope that maybe she'll be returning to him.
"Perfect." He chokes out, finishing for her. Her head turns, eyes blue and sparkling and red from tears, and she smiles, ever so slightly, and the tender feeling of hope stretches to her, radiant in her eyes and shining in her smile.
Without talking about it, he shows up to her doorstep three nights later, to see training scores. They huddle together on a couch, nerves locking their limbs and making her shake with anticipation. She sighs in relief when the boy scores an eight, but tenses almost immediately as they announce Katniss's name. He barely has time for a prayer before the "Eleven!" rings out through the room, and Madge is gasping, tears of relief staining her cheeks and splashing onto his shirt, and she's hugging him, an embrace that holds so many unnamable emotions and hopes.
He shows up again the next night, and they sit in anticipation through the others, their faces tightening for the Careers and softening for little Rue, so angelic and wispy and tiny and unprepared for what the next day holds, and then finally becoming even more frightened as Katniss shows up. Madge is less than impressed after her interview, but he's just happy that she made it through without completely breaking down, as he saw she was close to doing.
But then Peeta talks, and his confession rings out over the crowd, and Madge turns to him, her face a mask of horror and fright, and he's frozen in shock, completely unaccepting of what just happened. Her fingers find his and grip tightly, whispering over and over the thing that he hopes is true, that it's just for sponsors and it's not true and there's no way it's true and her face shows up on every screen in Panem, mouth open in shock, almost identical to his, her cheeks tinted with a blush that he's only seen twice in his life, looking so lovely and perfect, and he's so angry. So angry that it was him that caused her to look like that, so beautiful, with her eyes shining and her face tinted and her lips open slightly, and he jerks free of her grip and storms out the room.
He's back the next night though, unable to stand the compassionate looks of his family any longer. She doesn't speak as he sits down, having let himself in. He tries to apologize, but she waves him off. She knows what he's going through, and she's always been forgiving. When the tributes rise and their eyes scan the plates, they find her simultaneously, so helpless and confused and scared, but fixated on a silver bow and arrows, and they know the weapons are her key to the games, her key to survival, and they know how she can run and they're secretly urging her to run, to go, and they see her lock eyes with the boy, her face grow confused, and the gong rings out, and she's too late. He's angry again, so angry that the boy has ruined her chance, her only chance at getting the weapons that might save her life, but his anger fades into worry as she's pursued by the girl from Two. She escapes quickly into the woods, and they sigh with relief together and relax slightly as they watch the rest of the games. Until they see Peeta join the Careers.
He sees red, wants to curse and scream and cry and kill the boy himself, but the cameras pick up on what the Careers say to each other, and he knows that he won't have to worry about it, because they'll get there first.
He comes back, every night to watch, because her company is better than anyone elses, because she understands the pain of seeing her fight for her life everyday. He stays because they need each other, though they admit it or not. He stays because as much as he hates to say it out loud, he needs someong to hold on to while his world crumbles around him, and she's there. She calms him down when he needs be, and he holds her as Rue takes her last breaths and Katniss begins to sob deeply, as though she can't even contain her heart to her chest anymore, and he knows how it feels, to feel someone you love slip slowly away from you, growing more and more foreign and distant every minute of every day. They watch, their feelings growing more hopeful and scared at the same time every day, until they announce the feast and she gets the parachute. As soon as he's eaten it, they both know her intentions.
She makes it out of the feast alive, only for the pardon of Eleven, and as the field grows more and more narrow of contenders, Eleven dying in a bloody battle between him and Two, and Five killed unintentionally by Peeta, they come to grip each others hands tightly.
The night that it actually happens, it's so unbearably horrible that Madge can't even watch, she just hides her face in his shirt and gasps for breath through her tears, but his eyes are sharp, catching every single movement that she makes. If this is the last time he sees her alive, he wants to make it count. And though it lasts hours, it seems to go by quickly, and then they're holding out the berries, proclaiming defiance of the Capitol, and the voice is ringing out, announcing them victors, and he's crying for the first time, actual tears running down his face and dripping into her hair, and she's screaming, shouting so loud that he can't even make it out, and he's frozen, unmoving but so grateful and the screen goes black and he just collapses from relief and she's gasping, grabbing at his hands and pulling him to his feet and they waltz around the room without a care in the world.
There's more interviews, but they barely watch. It's more propaganda about how in love they are, but he knows it's not true, it was just for sponsors, and the romance won her her life, so he can't really argue. And then they're home, and she's there, so tangible and real and alive that it's almost as if he's afraid to see her.
But when he finally does, it's not the homecoming of his dreams. The cameras are gone, the façade is down, but still she's different, confused. They don't talk about it, but whatever happened in that arena changed her. He gets that one kiss, just that one. That perfect moment of his lips against hers, her fingers clutching his shirt and his calloused thumbs running over her cheeks, and that's it. They hunt, every Sunday, just like normal, but it's not normal. It's not the same. It won't ever be the same. He's more confused than ever.
The Victory Tour is the worst. His public proposal, kneeling down in front of the entire Capitol audience, practically foaming at the mouth at the happily-ever-after unfolding before them, and he curses everything there is to curse, not even looking back as he takes to the streets destructively.
And then there's the announcement for the Third Quarter Quell. He comforts her, helps her train, but his heart breaks more and more. He knows she's capable, but so is everyone else in the arena. He doesn't even watch the interviews, but he picked up on what happened in the mine. She's pregnant. Married, and pregnant. And she's going to die.
So the first night of the actual games, when he shows up at her doorstep, she doesn't ask questions. She doesn't ask how he's been, or why he hasn't bothered to see her since the last games ended, because she gets it. She understands his pain better than anyone else could hope to. She just takes his hand and leads him upstairs, and they hold each other tightly as the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games begin and the terror starts anew.
Reviews, opinions?
Also if you guys want to PM me prompts or something... I'd be totally fine with that. :3