I disclaim any ownership of The Hunger Games characters. ILY Suzanne Collins.
District 12 - Post 50th Annual Hunger Games/Second Quarter Quell
After losing Maysilee things were never the same. Although it hadn't been his fault at all, they had hated Haymitch for coming home. Until the funerals for his family, then his girlfriend. It surprised no one when he started to drink.
Peony wasn't as affected as Maysilee's twin sister Ellabelle, who spent months indoors unable to function.
Peony was distracted, where she had once been warm and present. She floated off inside her head most days. No one tried to bring her back but him. She knew him, but they did not become friends until one day when he found her sitting by herself at school, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. He sat down and said nothing. She started talking. He was a good listener, he didn't have much use for talking if there wasn't a need. He preferred to observe. She needed an ear. She cried on his shoulder late into the night. Things were difficult at the apothecary. The whippings were becoming worse. Rumors were that Snow was not happy about something, and he had taken it out on Twelve. Some blamed Haymitch. The sudden deaths of his family indicated that he was not in good standing despite being a victor. No one saw him anymore except in the Hob looking for white liquor, or stumbling through the streets at odd hours.
….
Young Mr. Mellark was tired and not his best for work at the bakery, but he didn't care. He was delirious at his growing closeness to her, despite her sadness. She had started to open up, to blossom again. He wanted more than her friendship, but he was gentle and patient; he thought they had time. He should have known, time was a luxury and District Twelve was nothing but poor.
The world he was building for them in his head collapsed the day she told him about the capable and charming Mr. Everdeen. How he would come in to the apothecary with the most amazing things. Herbs to make medicines no one could get from the Capitol anymore. "But he is from the Seam," she whispered. Her parents were furious. Things moved quickly between them. She was lit from within, she glowed. It was hard to bear, to know that someone else could make her so happy. She was beautiful, his Peony. Except she was not his. Not anymore. She clearly never was.
He started to avoid her. She noticed. So he told her. He hadn't meant to, but she looked at him with such genuine concern in her wide blue eyes. She knew she was pretty, but she had no idea how beautiful she was. It all spilled out of him. How he loved her. How long. Why. Her eyes only got wider and further away, as her concern turned slowly to pain. He said the words that had been in his heart all this time. Throwing everything he had into them. Hoping she'd hear how much he wanted to be with her and maybe want it too.
She said nothing. She only turned and went away.
He found her a few days later. Apologized. Tried to take it all back. Promised to never mention it again. But it was too late. He said he just wanted to be her friend. That was all. She sighed and said "Maybe." But she missed his shoulder and his ear, so she tried. It was of course never the same. Those things never are.
When she told him of her engagement he wanted to die right there, wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "I want you to be happy." he said after a long silence. "I won't fight for you, if it means you'll be happy. Even if it means that you'll never confide in me again, never speak to me again, never look at me again. I just want to know that this is what you really want."
"I'm so happy." She sobbed. "I love him so much." She said it even though she knew it was a dagger through his heart. She had to. It was true.
He held her in his arms for the last time as she cried herself dry. It helped a little that this hadn't been easy for her, even though it was a pinch in his heart to have caused her pain. He clutched her hands reassuringly and smiled at her, to convince her he'd be okay. Then he watched her go.
At the wedding party in the Meadow, after the toasting he couldn't bear to go to, the new Mrs. Everdeen's husband sang to her and every single bird stopped to listen. One by one they joined in. And it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, her face when that happened. No one could find him for a whole day afterwards.
His parents fixed him up with a sour-faced girl that they approved of, a girl they'd been trying to get him to see for years. "She is a good match," they told him. "Her parents are our friends, and she is a strong, handsome girl. And you are such a strong, handsome boy." She didn't remind him anything of Peony, and that was good. He didn't need a cheap imitation or the reminder. His new wife knew about Peony, apparently everyone but Peony had seen it in his face this whole time.
….
He watched the parade of wives and children and mothers and husbands receive their medals of honor and their one month compensation for the loss of their family member. She was among them, with her two daughters. He knew he might give himself away, watching her shuffle across the stage; led subtly by her elder daughter's hand at her waist. Her other side was gripped tightly by the tiny hands of her younger daughter, the one who was nearly the spitting image of her. Her face, which had just so recently had been luminous and flushed with pink was grey and gaunt, her once-bright hair and eyes limp and dull.
Little Peeta's eyes were fixed on Katniss, who was unable to hide the grim determination and grief on her face. She and her father had been very close, everyone knew it. She is so much like her father that one, they said. And everyone loved Mr. Everdeen. He was easy going and kind, fair in his trades and skilled at what he did. He was respected. He was mourned.
So no one's eyes were on Mr. Mellark except his wife's, whose lips smashed together until they disappeared, her flint eyes sparking. He'd pay for his lapse in control later. He was beyond caring. His heart, which had never fully healed from its first break, shattered again. Just as easily and just as hard.
He continued to keep an eye on her family from a distance, saw that she was not getting better. He never saw her leave the house. Her children got thinner and thinner. He was afraid that one day someone would seek them out for some reason; an unpaid tab at the market or some other thing, and find them all emaciated and cold as stone. It was not unusual.
It was Peeta who was finally brave enough to help them. Mr. Mellark was grateful, and he was proud. And more than a little ashamed of himself. He had no idea, that boy. How much he affected the people around him. He simply did what he did because it was good, because it was right. He'd accept the consequences with all the dignity he could muster, whatever they were. There was nothing but love in his soft little heart.
A/N: Peony: From the English word for the type of flower. It was originally believed to have healing qualities, so it was named after the Greek medical god Pæon.
