Hunger Games Klaine! Because I had to. I really did.
Enjoy!
"Don't die, kid, you hear me? Promise me!"
"Promise me you'll make it home alive!"
"Promise me you won't die on me, Kurt!"
So many promises that Kurt couldn't keep. He was from District 9, and didn't know much more than what plants would kill him. However, compared to other deaths he could experience in the Arena, he wondered if it would come to swallowing a handful of nightlock after shouting apologies into the air for his father, step-mother, and step-brother.
The train-ride to the Capitol was tear-filled, but not from his end. His best friend, Rachel, had been chosen as the female tribute, and had to leave behind the love of her life, Noah. Kurt just stayed silent and stony-eyed, holding the petite girl as she cried. He had no more tears to shed though-they had all leaked from his eyes as he said goodbye to his family. He wondered how much longer he had with Rachel, though. She was small and quick, but the Careers were quicker and bigger, a deadly combination that Kurt knew would have his best friend most-likely dead at the Cornucopia.
Rachel only stopped crying when their mentor, Santana, entered the room, only a few years older than them. She had won a few years before them, the only District 9 victor in the history of the Games.
"This is all their giving me to work with?" Santana scoffed, sitting across from the scarily-calm Kurt and the red-eyed Rachel.
"Shut up," Kurt scoffed. "Everyone knows the only reason you won in the 54th is because you waited in the trees while the other tributes killed one another until there was one left, and then you just sent one arrow into her heart. I remember how every Capitol citizen was bored because they wondered whether your strategy was clever or just spawned from laziness."
Instead of getting pissed off like Kurt had expected, Santana just smiled sweetly.
"You remind me of myself. That's good," she said before shifting her gaze to Rachel. "You, on the other hand, well, let's just say hobbits don't do so well in the Arena."
"Have some compassion, will you?" Kurt said angrily, immediately holding Rachel again. "You know damn well how terrifying this experience is, and don't pretend like you didn't cry into your pillow every night before the Games. Behind that tough exterior, I can see some scared little girl hiding behind a victor's title. Now, are you going to give us tips and advice, or are you just going to sit there and try to break us just like everyone in the Capitol!"
That was when Santana snapped. She grabbed Kurt by the collar and pulled him across the table so they were face to face, her eyes flaming with rage.
"I am nothing," she growled, "Like anyone in the Capitol."
And she was gone, her manicured nails (looking nothing like Kurt's, which were caked with dirt) slamming the door shut.
Kurt sighed, sitting back down and holding Rachel again, pressing a kiss to her forehead as her tears leaked out again.
"It'll be over soon, honey," he cooed, squeezing her tightly. "It'll all be over."
And Kurt knew that was the truth; he also knew that the way it would end wouldn't be how Rachel would like it.
~oOo~
After arriving in the Capitol, Kurt didn't even give it a second glance. He refused to look out the window, or greet the people. All he wanted was to go home. He didn't care about the lavish buildings, or the strange fashion of the Capitol citizens (when were these people going to learn that neon green eye-shadow didn't look good on anyone); he wanted to go back to the boring District 9 and see his family, hang out with Rachel in the wheat fields, design his own fashion designs! He wanted his life to be normal again.
He pushed those thoughts aside with a sigh, taking Rachel's hand and leading her into the Training Center.
"Welcome, welcome!" Effie Trinket trilled from a podium in the lobby. "Tributes of the 56th Hunger Games, this is where you will be staying until your flight into the Arena! Oh, how exciting!"
Kurt rolled his eyes at the woman, taking this opportunity to look evaluate the other tributes. He saw the ones from 3,6,7, and 11, ones who didn't look like too much of a threat. He knew that if it came down to who to kill, he would go after them. The Careers stood in the corner, smirks on their faces and their arms crossed defiantly…all except for one.
His curly hair was tamed with gel, his eyes a soft hazel that glowed in the pale light of the lobby. Kurt knew that the only thing the boy would need from his prep team was that gel washed out of his hair. Kurt had a feeling it would look much better that way. His jawline was strong and defined, his lips set in a frown. He looked strong, fairly on the short side, and very, very familiar. Kurt cocked one eyebrow, wondering where he thought he had seen the boy before.
Then he saw a small, crescent-shaped scar on the boy's tan cheek, and everything clicked…
"But you can't leave!"
Kurt desperately gripped his best friend's forearms, his small fingers digging into the skin.
"Ouch, Kurt!" Blaine complained, ripping his arms away with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Kurtie, but I have to leave."
"No, you don't!" Kurt insisted. "You can stay with my daddy and me! I need someone to help me take care of him! He's really sad because my mommy died, and he lets me cook dinner sometimes! You can help me make your mommy's famous chocolate cake, and you can sleep in my room, and you can still play with me! You can't go to District 4!"
"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine said again, taking Kurt's hands. "I love playing with you, but my daddy is making me go with him."
"How are you going to 4 anyway?" Kurt demanded angrily. "We're not supposed to leave our Districts!"
"My daddy got a special job offer from President Snow," Blaine said sadly. "He said I couldn't stay here with you. That it'll be good for me. That maybe one day, I can learn to fight and then volunteer to be in the Hunger Games."
"NO!" Kurt shouted desperately. "You can't go into the Games! I won't let you!"
"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine said. "I don't think I have a choice."
And then he leaned in, pressing a small kiss to Kurt's cherubic cheek. The seven-year-old let one tiny tear slip free as Blaine pulled back. He reached out and wiped Kurt's tear away. Kurt reached out and stroked the scar on his cheek, catching a tear from Blaine's eye. Kurt knew that this was it, and if he was going to do what he felt like doing for a long time, it'd be now. He leant in and pressed a light kiss to Blaine's lips, feeling fireworks go off in his brain. Blaine sighed with a tiny, bewildered smile before turning around and walking away with a tiny "Goodbye".
It was Blaine Anderson. His old best friend.
Well…that happened.
Will continue soon! Hope you liked it!
