You both are in love with her.
And others don't understand this, because she is plain in almost every way imaginable from the clothes that shield her skin to the dark braid that hangs down her back. Her voice is monotone, and scratchy from lack of talking, and she carries a scowl on her face that obscures her soft features as well as scaring off any one in range. She carries more than that though. The dark dread of responsibility that hangs over her head casting a dark barrier over her heart, and the memory of her father who had passed both lie on her shoulders, taking their toll as the years go by. She comes from a poor family, with a mute sister and a mother who's gone mad, and she herself is a bit off. And no amount of reasoning could ever convince her to eat an extra portion of food for herself because god knows she needs it with all of the hunting and gathering she does for them, but in her mind they need it more. In truth, she is sad, and broken, and no one could ever understand why she was the one you both wanted. But you both hear the sound of her melodious laughter, and feel the sunlight pour through her cracks, and both long to feel her rough hands against your body, as you imagine the cracked taste of her lips.
You both would do anything for her.
And anything really does mean anything. You both would scale mountains, cross rivers, travel through hell and fire, be beaten over a hundred times with a whip, cast all your hopes into the wind, sacrifice yourself, and so much more just to hear the shaky whisper of her breath against your skin. And it's so horribly pitiful, but you do it anyway because love makes you both do crazy things. Crazy things like get beat because you threw bread out to save her from starvation, or crazy things like protecting not only your whole family but hers as well, and crazy things such as pretending that every day when she isn't with you, you're not broken beyond repair. You both pretend that your heart isn't being ripped out and throttled by emotions of lust and longing, and stomped into dust by a feeling of suffocation. You can't breathe without her. And you both tell her this, that you'd do anything for her. That you would protect her. That she has nothing to fear. But no matter how hard one of you tries, kissing away the pain won't always work, and for the other, you'll never understand what she's going through enough to keep her sane.
And it's an endless battle between the two of you.
Because there can only be one. You know this and she knows this, but the fact still stands. You love her so much it hurts. And it's not fair for either of you really. No, because one of you was the first, and you've been closer to her than anyone else and you could never understand why she would ever choose him over you. Because you've protected her more times than you can count, you've seen her grow, and you know everything about her because she's told you everything (everything but what happened in that goddamn arena), and you don't think it's fair that she would pick someone whom she barely even knew who practically forced her to fall in love with, and you don't understand how she could ever forget about the memories you both shared. You hold onto these grudges and they fuel your pain, because you know that if you both would have just ran away she could have been yours, and it's a selfish thing to think really, but it's true. And what hurts more is the fact that you'll never know how to comfort her because she's seen things that no one should ever have to see, and that your own mind can barely even fathom, but what makes it worse is that you know you're the cause of her nightmares. Because you can still hear that barely audible scream of terror that came when the bombs went off and her sister was no more.
And the other one of you has loved her since the beginning, and never loved anyone the same way. And the reason your love works is because you've both been through this sickening game of hell and you both find solace in the fact that there's someone else who knows how it feels. But sometimes in the night when your arm is wrapped around her waist and you feel the bones underneath her skin, you can hear her voice tremble things about a boy and catnip, and broken vows and feel your heart break with every word. And you know that she will never be fully yours because there will always be that part of her heart which has never quite given up on him, and every beat of it pounds with his name. And no matter how many times you try to kiss away the memories, she'll never let them go because they're engraved into her mind like a tattoo, the words district 12 written in dark bloody ink. But you still would never stop loving her. Because her voice silences your demons, and her hands warm the ice that is your body, and every time you hear the nauseating booming sound of those cannons in your mind you instantly feel better because when you look beside you, she's okay. Yet, your heart still breaks with every passing day, and you don't know how much more of it you can take.
You both are so blind.
Because how could either of you be so ignorant? Why can't you realize that this is not some game. This isn't a love story, or some teen romance novel, it's a fucking war. This is a story of oppression, injustice, and a girl who is trying desperately to prevent it. Maybe the reason she is always so quiet is because her voice is worn out from all the screams of terror that took place in that arena, and from all the times she woke up in the middle of the night crying from visions of death and gore. And maybe the reason she carries a scowl on her face is because if she didn't people would think it's okay to mess with her. And those things she mumbles in her sleep are pleas of terror from her nightmares. And the reason she could never run away with you, is because she has responsibilities holding her back, and drowning her. And if either of you ever took the time to see things from her point of view, you might realize. But no matter how many tears she sheds you'll never understand. You'll never understand that she can never get close to anyone. Because everyone she ever cared for has died.
And you both wonder why she's so afraid to love.