Warning: Mentions of cheating, underage romance and prostitution. Major and minor character death and depression too. Tread lightly, please.
AN: Prompted by 27: 'Katniss, aged 22, falls in love with a boy, aged 15'. I changed Katniss' age to 23 and the OC's to 16, and this is in the same verse as my other one shot: Best You've Ever Had', which is a Peetmitch story. Enjoy!
Surviving, Existing and Living
With Peeta, I was existing. It wasn't something I wanted - to be locked down with the very boy I owed my life to - but it was something I pushed through, to save my sister, and my mother and Gale who didn't want to talk to me and my 'cousins'. We'd give each other chaste kisses in the morning before I would go hunting and sleep on the very edges of the bed so we wouldn't have to touch each other. He would make me cheese buns while I helped my sister with work and I would skin the game I brought home because he was too squeamish to do so. We'd have dinner with each other's families and then leave the house at night, only coming back when we knew the other was asleep.
We existed together, but we didn't live. We didn't survive. It was just something I dealt with to get Snow off my back.
I didn't miss the blush on his cheeks whenever Haymitch came over or the way our old mentors eyes would linger on my husbands arse for just a tad too long. I didn't exactly ignore the way I would always catch Haymitch limping out of our house with bruised, red lips and a big smile on his face. I didn't particularly care when my husband began having an affair, it was just something that I went though.
At least, until I met him.
-x-
I met him at the bakery. Despite his abundance of money, Peeta never stopped coming the bakery to work. He said it was home, and despite the awful memories that resided there - one of those memories was throwing that life-changing bread to me, no doubt - he still missed it if he was away too long. I didn't care either way, but we both knew it was an excuse to stay as far away from me as possible.
His older brother, Rye, had been rolling his eyes as I entered, and he gave Barley a pointed look of annoyance as soon as he saw it was me. No one - besides Gramule Mellark - in the Mellark family liked me - I was a Seam rat that had shackled their son and brother into an unloving relationship in their eyes. The worst part was that they knew that it was Peeta's idea and not mine.
Haymitch was leaned over the counter, tapping his fingers against the cool glass in which a large array of delicacies were shelved, talking to Mrs. Mellark in a low voice about something or another. She was nodding and grinning like he had told her some great big joke.
"Hey there, darlin'," he had greeted me, when he managed to catch my eye. I had turned away immediately, to avoid the look of snarky knowing in his eyes. I think the thing that hurt most was that he didn't care. He didn't care he was having an affair with my husband, didn't care that he could practically throw Peeta down and screw him right in front of my eyes and there would be nothing I could do because I'm forced to be married to that man. He didn't give a shit. I didn't either, but it wouldn't hurt to see a little remorse.
"Hello, Haymitch," I had replied, my voice shrill and uneasy when I wanted to appear as fierce and uncaring as he did. He smirks at me again, his eyes alight with amusement, before giving a low, breathy chuckle and turning back to drum on the glass and chat it up with Mrs. Mellark. Bastard.
"Oh my god, are you the Mrs. Mellark?" A voice, deeper than either Rye or Barley's was, despite the fact they were both well into their twenties. My head had been down at the time, so, reluctantly, I had looked up. He couldn't have been talking to the other 'Mrs. Mellark' because he used the word 'the'. As if I'm some big shot celebrity coming to his lowly establishment.
Right. I am.
When I did manage to look him the eye, I had to double-take. He was... breathtaking, truly. His eyes shined with the same blue-grey of Haymitch's 'mutt' mixture, but his were kinder and softer, even possessed a little surprised sparkle in them. Like a child getting what he really wants for his birthday. He was tall, taller than me and Barley because when Barley appeared next to him, he appeared small in comparison. And muscley. The tight little white shirt with the bakery's logo was practically stretching to accomadate his bodily strength.
Like his eyes, his hair was a mixture of Seam black and Merchant blonde. It's shaggy and ruffled, carefully tucked under a withering blue beanie that could have been centuries old with it's worn down look. His skin, the Seam olive despite his blonde streaks of hair and bluish eyes, were covered in flour and a few tendrils of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
He was beautiful. So, very, beautiful.
"Ma'am? I'm... I'm terribly sorry, you must not know me yet. I'm Marcel. I was at the orphanage, but the Mellarks kindly took me into their home to fill the spot of Peeta when he's not ho- here. I'm not replacing him by any means, of course," he rushes to add. "Just... a little bit of extra help during the busiest season." Busiest season? Every since the last Parcel Day, the bakery's business has been just as slow as every other business in 12. We're a poor District - almost no one can afford the rich, buttery bread of our District bakery.
"Oh, that makes sense," I smile warmly instead of voicing that - or, as warm I possibly can muster - and extend my hand. "Katniss. Katniss Ever- Mellark. But, it seems as if you already know that." Five years married to Peeta and I was still so used to introducing myself as 'Katniss Everdeen'. It's why when we were on camera or in the Capitol mentoring, Peeta did all the talking for us. Afraid I'll make some stupid slip-up like that and get both our families killed. The Capitol wanted to see me so madly in love that I get giddy when calling myself 'Mrs. Mellark'. Not some foolish girl who never wanted any of this in the first place.
"Yes ma'am, I do. At the orphanage, all the girls would braid each other's hair like yours, and all the younger boys would stomp around calling themselves 'Mr. Everdeen'," he smiles, as if the memory is fond. Maybe the community home wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be. Or maybe it wasn't as bad while Peeta and I were in the Games. "Uh, Mrs. Mellark... not you, I mean," Marcel had stumbled over his words, looking scaredly at Peeta's mother when she sent a small scowl his way. One thing I would also pity on any Mellark boy, cheater or not, is the way Starla Mellark abused them. Poor kids, the woman had no humanity. "Mother," he finally mutters, and from the look on his face, he looks uncomfortable with the word. "May I have the honor of serving..." Marcel had looked to me, his eyes wide with expectancy.
"You can call me Katniss," I assured him gently, placing my hand on his forearm. I will forever remember the little snort of annoyance that came from somewhere to my right. Haymitch or Mrs. Mellark, I'll never be able to confirm.
"Yes, whatever, Marcy. Make it quick, the pigs need to be fed," she had snapped at him. From the anger that flashed briefly over Haymitch's face, I can tell even that asshole still thought what she did to her children was wrong. Even scum have standards, I suppose.
"Yes ma'am," Marcel nodded, before scurrying behind the counter, discarding his apron and hanging it on a hook. "What can I get you, Katniss?"
"Uhm, a three of your doughnuts, a cinnamon stick, and a two of your jelly-filled pastries, please," I smiled. Marcel grinned wildly, nodding his head before hurrying to fill a small bag with my requests. I couldn't help but watch the stretch and pull of his shirt as he moved through the motions of filling a thin paper white bag with goodies.
"Careful Katniss," Haymitch had leaned over and whispered. "you're going to drop saliva all over the counter." I had glared at him and he had smiled toothily back. Now that I think about it, those times were the only times Haymitch and I truly had a bit of hatred put aside for each other. We eventually moved past it, but I will forever look back on those days and feel that small flicker of anger towards him.
Going the cash register, Marcel rang me up quickly. I noticed the small tremble in his hands and wondered just what Mrs. Mellark has done to this kid. How old is he, even? From the looks of his face, he's of age, but then again, Peeta looked eighteen when he was only fourteen so I wouldn't know. It seemed as if the baker boys - blood or not - aged much too quick. With a mother like that, they probably needed to.
Marcel eventually returned to me with the price and my order. I had pressed a small pouch of coins into his palm and his cheeks burnt like fire. He practically bolted behind the counter to return with my receipt, that I obviously wouldn't need.
I had turnt on my heel and made my way to the door, eager to escape the Mellark bakery. I would always love Mr. Mellark, who was always so kind despite his family's reservations, but everytime I walked in there it felt like the walls would come closing in on me. On my way out, I feel a hand on my shoulder, so tense it's like the person is afraid to touch me. Whipping around, I smiled. Marcel stands there, his boyishly shy smile out of place on his maculine face. His palm is extended, half the coins still remaining in the ponch. "Your change?"
"Keep it," I smiled back, patting his cheek. He had blushed again, this time his whole face going red. "You deserve it more than me."
Little did I know, that he would put an end to my existing days.
-x-
A few months later, at the reaping, I had shaken with anticipation. I always hated reapings - seeing those kids in the crowd just reminded me too much of that day seven years ago, when Effie had pulled my sisters name from the bowl and changed my life forever. It was always worse when one of the new hunters - Gale had taken to teaching a few kids how to arm themselves with a weapon, for everyone's sake - looked a little too much like myself.
A new escort - Effie was moved up to District 8 sometime after our Victory, but she hadn't changed a bit and she still kept in touch - clambered onto the stage in her ridiculous go-go boots and began doing her usual yearly speech. I almost felt bad for the woman - seven years as an escort and she still stumbled over her words and stuttered whenever she had to say a particularly unusual name. One year, she called our tribut Leem, when her name was Leme.
Lilica Pond, aged seventeen, was dubbed as that years female tribute. From the way Haymitch relaxed beside me, she must've had some hidden skill stowed away. Especially since - not uncommonly, as our District had formed a habit of convincing the stronger kids to volunteer for the weaker children - she had lurched forward to Volunteer for a twitchy twelve-year-old girl that I know as Vera. Despite her striking Merchant look - blonde hair so pale it's almost white, and blue eyes almost the color of the night sky - she has the same Seam survival that I see in most tributes. The way she shuts off her emotions as not to appear weak, the stiff tensity in her stance, the way she balls and unballs her fists, as if waiting for a fight to spring up.
I don't see it immediately, but I had noticed it in the Careers, in Haymitch himself, and in most of the Victors. That isn't just Seam survival that all Seam kids have. She's a scrapper. One of the kids that are always wreaking havoc, one of the kids that parents tell their children not to act like.
Chances are, she knows how to throw a good punch. She knows how to fight, and if she's the same Lilica Pond of the Pond family that owns the Butchers, she knows how to weild a knife pretty well and wrangle a moving target. I hope it's not too much to ask she'd been one of the smarter kids to join Gale in the woods.
I can practically feel the excitement bubbling up in me when the male is called. Whatever male we get this year will only make Lilica look even better, no matter the outcome, and we may just have a Victor on our hands.
"Marcel Irivera."
My heart slams into my chest and I feel Peeta gripping my hand. Marcel. Marcel is this year's tribute. I rake my brain, trying to figure just how I pissed Snow off this time. What did I do? Too much time in the woods? Not enough time with Peeta? Not enough time at home? I've done everything by the book, why am I being punished?
And that's when it hits me.
I haven't done anything. Or else, they would have targeted Prim, who turns nineteen in a few weeks and is still eligible for the reaping. I catch her eye in the eighteens, at the very front of the female line. She gives me a sad yet reassuring smile. Not a tribute. Not Lily. Not dead. Here. So that means, it wasn't I that have ticked Snow off.
"Peeta," I hiss, biting back tears. "you... you... you bastard." I keep my voice low, as not to catch any microphones, but he hears anyway, because he gives my hand another squeeze.
"I know," he mutters. "I killed him." The words sting, more than they're supposed to. I'm supposed to see Marcel as a distant brother-in-law who I'm suddenly forced to accept as family. But he's so much more. He possesses some of the same qualities of Peeta himself - nurturing, kind, loving when he needs to be... even a fierce protector of everyone who is innocent or undeserving of certain pains. But, I think of him as something more than that.
And that terrifies me a little.
"He's not dead yet," I whisper back fiercely, before turning to look straight ahead, not bothering to even glance at Marcel. Despite my reservations about it, it'll be Haymitch and Peeta mentoring this year, since I mentored with Peeta last year and with Haymitch the year before that. Meaning I'll stay helpless in 12 while Peeta and Haymitch screw around and let this year's tributes die. Including Marcel.
I am, however, allowed to walk with them to the Train Station, choosing to deny the car offered to us. We walk in a smoldering silence before Haymitch speaks first, daring to slice the tension and move on already.
"So, obviously, this ain't Katniss' fault," he announces, when we're in the stretch of empty land between the District and the station. No cameras, no microphones... we're genuinely alone. If we wanted, we could make a run for it. But the Peacekeepers know how long a walk from the Justice Building to the Train Station, and if we take too long, they'll send authorities. And whether or not we're caught, our families will be killed.
"Yeah, no shit," I snap. "What were you two thinking?"
"If it makes you feel better, we've never... gone to our bed. Always on the floor somewhere, where we know you won't go. It's a... conscience thing," Peeta offers lamely. I can tell he's humiliated, and if I wasn't so angry with him, I'd pity him. But I'm livid, and pity is the last thing that Peeta Mellark is receiving from me.
"You just got your adopted brother reaped and you're telling me about where you've had sex? Honestly, Peeta!" I hiss, throwing my hands up in frustration. Peeta flinches - loud noises and abrupt motions always startle him a little, too long living with his mother then - before taking a step back.
"We'll try," Haymitch sighs, stepping between what could escalate into an argument. "Katniss, don't think we've missed the way you look at him. You love that boy. And, I think, the least we can do is bring him home to you. I've got plans to stage the perfect divorce... it'll put you two on the market but I mean, you won't be shackled to Peeta. You'll be allowed your own relationship, and he, his." The way Haymitch glances at Peeta, I can tell that I'm not the only being kept away from being with someone I truly love.
Actually, it's sort of... tragic, the way this hurts us all.
"We'll produce a Victor," Peeta says firmly. "If not for us, then for Marcel. We owe that much to the kid, after all."
"And Lily?" I ask, feeling guilty for writing the poor girl off so quickly, especially considering she has a chance. Haymitch sighs, running his hand through his wild dark curls. His prep absolutely refuses to allow him to show even a few little greys, despite that he's almost fifty.
"We'll figure something out. We're a team, remember?"
"A team," I echo drily. For some reason, it doesn't have the same ring to it like it used to have. It feels all wrong, too wrong and mismatched. Like we're betraying Effie somehow by even thinking of uttering the words.
"We have to go," Peeta says, jerking his thumb towards the station. "I know, you're upset Katniss. But I am too. After all, he is my brother." Peeta places his hand on my shoulder and I look into his eyes. Blue, the same blue that fed me bread, and the same blue I walked down the aisle to. The same blue I survived a Hunger Games with.
But they're old with age and withered down with tire. I don't owe him anything, but if I could, I would pity him.
"I trust you," I reply, placing my hand over his. "Bring one of them home, Peeta. Or face my wrath." He nods solemnly before pulling his hand away from my shoulder and turning his back to me, jogging up catch up with Haymitch, who had already begun to walk away. I turn and walk back towards the District, dread and the dangerous spark of hope lingering on my skin.
-x-
It's two days after that I return home to find my mother dead.
She lays on the floor, her tongue swollen from the ingestion of nightlock. I almost laugh at the way Snow does it - irony is a bitch, after all.
Not only a day before, during a 'Where Are They Now?' interview, Peeta had confessed that our marriage had been rocky. He had spun some overzealous tale of both of our infidelities, weaving words that painted sad stories of our mistakes. He'd finished the interview by running, over dramatically, into Haymitch's arms. The crowd had gone wild over the news, Effie had called to check on me only minutes after the airing. It had taken the Capitol by storm. Peeta Mellark cheats on his wife with mentor twice his age. Media ate it up.
And President Snow, obviously, is pissed. I do have to give that sneaky bastard props - he made sure to do it where my sister wouldn't find her first. That's all I could ask for.
A girl named Aster and Barley go missing four days later, when the newspapers reach Twelve. On the cover? Haymitch and Peeta, curled up together in Mentor's Central, sharing a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.
According to Prim, Aster was the bastard child of one of Haymitch's one night stands. Only thirteen, poor kid. A flock of Peacekeepers later recover their bodies in the woods, dead. The cause of death is announced to be thirst, but everyone knows better. No one misses the shiny axe that's pulled out of Aster's head on the swollen tongue of Barley Mellark.
I vaguely wonder how much more damage Haymitch can do. How many bastard children until Haymitch is broken completely? How long until President Snow runs out of leniency for our mentor and turns to our family's to keep him in check?
Prim is heartbroken, of course. Barley and her had been close - everyone suspected she'd be the new Mrs. Mellark - and she'd just lost her mother. I didn't see her, and I didn't force her to go to school. I let her lock herself away in her room and tried hard to ignore the wracked sobs that pierced the otherwise too quiet and too large house.
Peeta calls after the Training Scores are shown. Marcel gets a 10, which is better than most but makes him a threat. Lily receives a 12, and paints a huge target on her back. The Careers are demented this year, and they'll go after her first.
"Sound familiar?" Peeta asks, after our pleasantries. I snort, choosing to ignore the condescending sarcasm in his tone.
"What did she do?"
"Okay, get this. Remember last year's Head Gamemaker, Danus Nicholson? How he went 'missing' because he let the underdog of District 11 win?" Yes, I do remember. Marigold Allyn, aged 13, bypassing Finnick as the youngest ever Victor. She'd won by waiting out the entire Games - including the final two battle with the two Career boys. She'd gotten by on whatever Chaff wrestled up from sponsors and everything she knew about plants, not once killing a person. Lucky for her, after the District 1 boy died, the 2 boy had been so withered that when she drove her knife into his chest, he hadn't even put up a fight. She beat Annie's record of 4 for least killed people, being the Games most marveled at Victor. According to Haymitch, she'd been on the private market this year, at 14.
"Yeah, okay?" I ask, Prim's nearby sniveling snapping me out of my thoughts. So she comes out from hiding.
"She hung him." I freeze. There's no way that Lily had hung Danus. That man had been missing for over a year.
"What?"
"Not literally," Peeta scrambles to recover, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Of course she hadn't hung the actual Gamemaker, that's being stupid. "No, she hung a dummy looked like him. Painted all his tattoos to the perfect point. The girls rebellious, and it's bringing us down." Peeta's voice sounds strained.
"Let me guess, unlikable, can't keep her in check, runs too rampant?" I can't help but laugh maniacally at the bitter irony. Snow bites me in the ass twice then, and he didn't even have to try the second time. I know I can't blame him, but it's nice to blame somebody.
"Has a family at home that she desperately wants to go home to? A single mother and a sibling? Maybe we should have just let you mentor again," Peeta says drily. I roll my eyes, turning for a moment to look at Prim, who's staring sadly at a picture of our mother.
"Tell her to snap out of it," I grumble, and Peeta laughs. "I'm serious. Tell her to cut it out, it won't do her any good. Oh, and Peeta?" I decide to tell him at the last minute. After all, his family doesn't have the means to do so.
"Yeah?"
"Barley's dead. And so is my mother." The words feel weird on my tongue, and I realize that I've never said them. It hits me at that moment. My mother is dead. The woman that I'd lived with for 23 years of my miserable life, is dead. I bite back a sob and ignore the pain in my nose I get when I want to cry.
Silence on Peeta's end.
"Okay." And then the phone goes dead. Makes sense. I put the phone down and turn towards my sister.
"Prim? I, of all people, know that you can't bottle it up. Want to tell me anything? Scream at me, cry, let me hold you. Something to help."
"Mom is dead," Prim whispers. "And it's all your and the stupid Victors fault. Peeta, Haymitch and you, all killed mom. I know you didn't like her much, but she was my world, Katniss. How could you be so stupid?"
"This is a start," I breathe shakily. "I don't know what to say. I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because it won't bring Barley and mom back. I've changed, Prim. I'm not the girl that put food on the table, not anymore. I'm Katniss Everdeen, Girl on Fire. And you're not my kid sister that I volunteered for at the reaping. You're... you're all grown up. We'll never be those girls again. But it's me and you now, kid. So we have to try."
"I don't want to try," she says with finality. "I don't even know who you are anymore." And with that note, my sister is storming up the stairs. I don't yell after her, or chase her like I want to. There are things we both need to figure out right now, and the last thing she needs is for me to crowd her.
Besides, I have a tribute to worry about.
-x-
Three weeks after that, Prim and I hurry to meet our Victors at the train station. She's changed, in three weeks. But she's lightened up, and I just have to be grateful that she's alive. While her depression does often take hold of her, in the classic Prim way, she defies it and fights it with a passion. And miraculously, she forgave us all.
Our escort steps off first, waving excitedly to the District who is less than thrilled to see her. Haymitch and Peeta are next, Haymitch's arm protectively around Peeta's waist, and Peeta's eyes dead and hollowed out. Probably from being whored out - I cannot imagine what Snow put him through during that month in the Capitol. I rush to greet them, giving each of them a brief hug. Peeta clings to me a little longer than usual, and I truly feel for him.
Pulling away, I turn to look at the train doors, opening to welcome our Victor. I hadn't watched the finale. Nor had I watched any of the post games ceremonies. I wanted to be surprised on which tribute was brought home. All I know is that District 12 won this year, bringing home it's fifth Victor in all of history.
I don't think anything matches the relief that floods through me. I practically attack Marcel, kissing him despite the cameras and the riled up photographers. This years publicity gave the Capitol a story, which resulted in Marcel's sponsorship and saved his life. So I'll give them another and let them rave about it until next year. Let's hope Snow doesn't decide to use my last tether to sanity in the mean time.
"Katniss," Marcel breathes, his hands cupping my face. "You're alive. You're alive, I love you, you're alive." He holds me to him, wrapping his arms around me tightly and pressing me to his chest. I can hear the District buzzing, the cameras clicking and the reporters demanding answers, but I don't care.
Turning to Lily's family, I hug her brother first - a boy I went to school with. Bo hugs me tightly, whispering forgiveness in my ear. "I know you wanted him to come home," he says, not yet releasing me. "but I also know your team isn't unfair, and they did everything they could to help her."
"They did," I confess. "That 12... that had nothing to do with Haymitch or Peeta. They both fought for her, they both tried their best for each of them. But she... she carried everyone on her back, I just know. She was a good girl and I'm truly, honestly sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Bo nods. "My mother couldn't make it but... she forgives you as well." This is the first time that a family hasn't blamed me, or Haymitch or Peeta for their child's death and it brings unimaginable pain to my chest. I pull away from Bo like he burnt me and throw myself back into Marcel's arms, fighting the tears in my eyes.
He'll talk to the family later - like Haymitch had to talk to Maysilee, Dirk and Ruby's family, like I would have had to talk to Peeta's or vice versa - but right now I want to cry over a lost girl and her sick brother and my lovers life and just be with Marcel.
Because the odds never will be in my favor, and no matter what I did, I was forever surviving. But for a moment, if only for a single moment, I could live.
AN: I know this is bad and leaves so many loose ends, but I tried. Sorry .-. I hope you liked it, but I could understand why you wouldn't. I'll try and answer some questions here.
Okay firstly: While I do ship Prim and Rory, Prim falling in love with one of Peeta's brothers seemed like the perfect taste of irony to add to this slightly dark story.
Secondly: To answer the way Katniss reacted to her mother's death. Katniss seems like (well, from what I can tell, she is) the type of person to push her emotions away and not want to face them. The only way she will is if Prim herself needs her solace. Otherwise, Katniss doesn't try to linger on her emotions.
And to explain Peeta and Haymitch, Katniss didn't want Peeta if she had to be forced to love him which is why their relationship fell apart. Of course Peeta tried, but even someone like Peeta has his limits. Of course, he winds up with the one person who's exactly like Katniss and nothing like her at the same time. Bitter sweet reminder sort of thing. In the end though, he does fall in love with him.
Okay, that should clear some things up.
R&R with constructive criticism, please c: Thanks for reading!