Juliet says, "Hey, it's Romeo, you nearly gave me a heart attack"

He's underneath the window, she's singing

"What are you doing here?" She whispers anxiously.

I want to chuckle at her expressions, about how worried she looks. The negative expression doesn't fit right on her pretty face with the delicate features. I reach out my hand and rub my thumb along her jawbone, hoping that I don't smear her pale town skin with the coal dust I tracked with me from the Seam.

"I wanted to see you," I respond. "Why? Am I not allowed to come visit the beautiful girl I'm in love with?"

She sighs. "You know what my parents would say –"

"That is a Seam boy and my daughter is much too good to be seen with riff-raff like that, let alone be kissing one." I imitated her mother's high pitched voice as best as I could. Though I thought I was quite spot-on, she didn't laugh.

"That's exactly what my mother would say before my father shot you."

I laughed. "What's your father going to shoot me with, darling? Weapons aren't allowed in the Districts, remember?"

"He'd take your head off with a kitchen knife," she argued with conviction. "And I can't bear to see you get hurt just because you wanted to see me."

"What if I thought it was worth it?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. "What if I thought the danger of your father wielding a kitchen knife hardly mattered in comparison to seeing your beautiful face?"

She rolled her eyes good naturedly at my heavy theatrics. "Then I would say you're a sweet boy."

I smiled. "Sweet enough to get a kiss from said beautiful girl?"

She glanced over her shoulder, trying to peek into her house. Yet, the whole thing was dark. Her parents were tucked into bed, just like she had been before I had sauntered over and interrupted her slumber. Satisfied that no one was spying on us, she slid her hand around the back of my neck, and I willingly obliged to the pull. I pulled her tightly against me, not caring that my hands were probably leaving filthy traces on her expensive, overly fancy nightclothes.

She clung back to me just as desperately, kissing me until we were both out of air and then kissing me again. I couldn't bear to release my hold on her at all – every moment we had together was precious; stolen. We both knew that we could never have one another; the townsfolk didn't mix well with the dirty little tramps that resided in the Seam. It was a point that she mentioned often – along with her parents disapproval if we were to ever tell them that we had fallen in love. She talked about a baker too, about how her parents had seemingly chosen him to be her destined partner. I hated when she talked like that; talked about an end. As far as I was selfishly concerned, she would be mine forever.

"You're beautiful," I murmured into the soft, florally scented crook of her neck. I twirled my fingers through her long blonde hair and thought of how true the words were. Though she was a classic town beauty, there was something more about her. Yes, most of the people from town had blonde hair and blue eyes and pale, pale skin. Yet, there was something beautifully magnetic about her – something that made all of these traits somehow more. Just by wearing these stereotypical features, she made them more beautiful.

"And you are handsome," she returned back, kissing the very tip of my nose.

I wanted to laugh at that. How could she ever see me under the coal dust that coated my skin? I was born covered in coal; I doubted anyone had ever seen what I truly looked like. Besides, what was so beautiful about olive-skin and dark hair? I blended into the crowd – or was just never seen at all. Not that I minded; I didn't want to shine. I didn't need to. I was loved by her and there could be nothing better in comparison.

"More handsome than your baker?" I taunted.

She looked almost offended that I had mentioned him – the boy from the life she was allowed to live.

"Yes," she said firmly. "More handsome than a thousand of the baker."

I smiled at her. "Funny; I thought the handsome men always got the lady."

She scoffed, showing disdain for her parents' ideals for once. "No; the rich, respectable choices do."

I released her. I stood in front of her and fell into a bow that was meant to be comical. "I'm a respectable choice. Hello sir, as you can see, I scrubbed off three out of four layers of dirt in order to meet your acquaintance today. And, as you may notice, I even wore my fancy, clean clothes – why, they were washed but a week ago!"

She giggled behind her hand. "I wish I could marry you."

"You could," I said bluntly, "but I understand why you don't."

"You are my first choice," she informed me. "If this were a different world –"

"If this were a different world we could be happy together." I pulled her to me again. I picked out a tune my mother used to use to sing me to sleep, and I sung it in her ear as I turned us in slow, relaxing circles.

Her fingers dug into my shoulder blades as she pulled me closer to her. Though I think she was trying to hide it, I could feel her trembling; I could feel the hot wetness on my shoulder that signified her tears.

She stretched onto her tiptoes, bringing my ear to her lips. "Ask me again," she begged, referencing the night not too long ago when I had tried to propose.

So, I took a step back. I took both of her hands in mine and sunk to the ground, down onto one knee. I fumbled for my inside jacket pocket where I had tucked her ring – the one I had desperately tried to keep from getting covered in the dirt that lived on everything in the Seam.

"Darling – I know that it may not be fair to ask you to give up the life you have here, and the way you live now, but you must know that, no matter what our life in the Seam is like together, I will make you the happiest out of everyone. I love you, with my heart, my soul, and my body. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

There were tears streaming freely down her face now. "I know no one will like this, but I have to make myself happy, not them. I love you too, with all that I am. I will marry you."

I jumped to my feet, wrapped my arm around her waist, and kissed her deeply. Nothing could be better than this.

"Hey, la, my boyfriend's back

You shouldn't come around here, singing up at people like that

Anyway what you gonna do about it?"

"Come on, Katniss." I hoisted my daughter – my first baby, the second love of my life – up onto my hip. Her tiny hands tangled in my thick hair, hanging on.

"Can we go see Mommy?" She asked, her high voice sweet.

"Yes. And guess what?" I told her, feeling a warmth grow in my belly as I even thought of the news that I would deliver to Katniss.

"What?" She looked up at me – large grey eyes anticipating my next words.

Before I could utter a word, I dropped a kiss to her forehead, between the strands of dark hair. She looked like me – pure Seam – but with her mother's beauty; though she had the same basic features as most of those who surrounded her, she still stood out. She wrinkled her nose at my show of affection before throwing her arms around my neck tightly, kissing my cheek in return.

"What?" She pushed again.

"The baby arrived."

"The baby?" Katniss repeated, brow furrowing. "What kind of a baby?"

"A girl baby," I told her. "You have a sister."

The house was coming into view; the house I shared with my beautiful wife and our two beautiful children. Though the past few years hadn't been easy – I couldn't give her the town life she was used to, but she had fully embraced the Seam and all that came with being married to a lowly coal miner – they were still the best years of my life. I picked up my pace, eager to greet my newest daughter and to see my eldest greet her new sister.

I pushed open the door, calling out my wife's name.

"Mommy?" Katniss cried, squirming down from my arms.

Together we approached the bed where she was holding a bundle of blankets. I picked up Katniss again, taking a seat on the bed and placing my dark-haired child on my lap. She reached out her pudgy hands, aiming for the blanket. She knew what was contained in that bundle and her severe curiosity was burning.

"Do you want to meet your sister?"

Katniss nodded eagerly, but as she readjusted the new baby in her arms, Katniss leaned back into my chest. I secured my arms around her and leaned forward. I had been waiting nearly as long as my wife to meet this new life we had created together and my excitement was reaching its tipping point.

"Here she is," she trilled, almost as though it were a song.

The blanket fell away from the new baby's rounded face. She had fine, pale hair – almost the exact shade of her mother's. And when her eyes opened, they were a bright blue, brighter than any of the eye colours I had even seen in town. As much as Katniss was my image, this new child was hers.

"What's her name?" Katniss asked. She reached out a hand, almost touching the silent baby who was watching her sister with as much interest as Katniss was watching her with.

"I don't know," we answered in unison. We hadn't wanted to talk about names – I was too afraid of jinxing it and she hadn't wanted to decide on anything until we knew the gender for sure. Though all of the old wives tales had told us that both our children would be girls, she was a skeptic at heart and needed to see it for herself. We had gone through the exact same process when Katniss was still in the womb.

"Why?" Katniss looked up at me, brow creased. "Everything has a name. You teach me all of the names."

"That I do," I agreed.

"So why doesn't my sister have a name?"

"We need to pick one out for her, sweetheart," my wife explained gently.

"Oh." Katniss pursed her lips. "When will you do that?"

"As soon as we find one that fits." I jostled my daughter on my knee. "Do you have any ideas?"

My wife gave me a look for asking our four-year-old daughter what to name our newborn daughter but I brushed it off. It wouldn't do any harm to ask Katniss about her new sister; I thought it might help them bond. Katniss had already proven that she was a solitary creature by nature and I wanted to help her accept the new baby in any way that I possibly could.

"I'm a plant." Katniss stated and I nearly laughed.

"Yes, you are." I had named her after the Katniss plant – something that had once been my only source of food and the reason for my survival to this age.

"She's a plant." Katniss said seriously.

"What kind of a plant?" She asked, looking down at the bright face of our newly dubbed plant.

"A flower." Katniss crawled out of my lap and onto the other side of her mother's lap. She let the baby take her thumb into her tiny hand. "She's a Primrose."

I looked into my wife's eyes and saw her blue eyes warm.

"Primrose," we said together.

I smiled. I kissed my wife on the lips before kissing each of my daughter's foreheads.

I couldn't have asked for a better life.

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my beta: Noble6. The song is Romeo And Juliet by The Killers.

~TLL~