A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it took so long for me to update. But I'm back! I actually have a plan for this one. Please, review, it means the world to me!
Enjoy this latest installment. It's kind of a filler chapter, but it is necessary for the plotline.
"So how old are you two anyways?" Haymitch slouched down into the plush armchair situated in the corner of their practice room, eyeing Santana and Blaine shrewdly.
Their practice session had just started, and Haymitch was already looking drowsy and uncaring. Blaine sighed. So much for a proper mentorship...
Santana spoke, "I'm 18. Pipsqueak over here is 17." Blaine rolled his eyes as she smirked at him affectionately. He was very used to her antics. They'd been close neighbors before Blaine moved in with Kurt in town. Both had grown up dirt-poor, and often found comfort in each other's company as small children. Blaine understood that Santana's bitchiness was only a front for her insecurities and rough history.
Haymitch nodded slowly, his eyes finally sparking up with life. "Well, let's get started. Now we need to decide what your personalities are gonna be." At the tributes' perplexed expression, Haymitch clarified, "No one goes into the Games as themselves. Real personalities are boring to the viewers. So we spice it up a bit and decide on show-faces. These façades, if you wear them correctly, could be the difference between life and death. They can determine your guys' scoring, how the other tributes view you, and how sponsors view you. And believe me, the sponsors are the ones we need to please."
Santana and Blaine nodded uneasily. Their minds were both reeling with the reality of their situation.
Blaine gulped and said, "So are y-you going t-to help us choose?"
Haymitch looked over to Blaine warily. "Yes, stupid, that's my job." He turned his focus over to Santana, who immediately straightened, threw out her hip and smirked. Haymitch looked her up and down, calculatingly. "Okay… okay…" Now he returned his attention to Blaine, who blushed and curled into himself, embarrassed. Haymitch scrutinized him shamelessly before nodding and gazing past them, as though envisioning something…
"Okay, I've got it," Haymitch said, clapping his hands together. Blaine and Santana glanced nervously at one another, awaiting their new identities.
"Santana – you've got a nice sexiness to you. Keep that. But instead of scaring everyone with your HBIC attitude, try upping the sweetness. Act like the typical girl-next-door. Sponsors can't resist a sweetie with a little bit of spiciness."
Santana looked a little shocked. "Mitch, I can't completely overhaul my personality. I'm a bitch. Do you expect me to just flip a switch and suddenly transform into Little Miss Sweetheart?"
Haymitch evaluated her rage for a second and retorted with a succinct, "Yes," before moving back to Blaine, ignoring her indignant glare. "Now you, Pipsqueak. To be blunt, despite your shortness, you're incredibly handsome. So we need to get you some confidence. I believe you can be the charmer, the leading man of this year's Games. The first thing we need to change desperately is that horrifying stutter of yours. No one appreciates petty flaws like that. When we get to the Capitol, I'll ask the makeover artists to fix it."
Blaine was speechless for a second. When he finally got over the utterly insulting aspects of Haymitch's comments, he asked, "How w-will they f-fix my st-stutter? I've had-d it-t since b-birth."
Haymitch snorted at his ignorance and replied, "The Capitol can fix anything it wants to. Don't underestimate them. They'll insert a language chip into your brain." Blaine was shocked. He unconsciously reached a hand to his temple, imagining having a miniscule piece of technology resting inside it, eliminating one of his flaws.
Haymitch finished, "Blaine, we need to do this if you want the sponsors to give a damn about you. So just do what I say. I know what I'm doing." This made Blaine furious – how could a sleazy drunk possibly be so arrogant? Blaine was a second away from telling him off when Santana butted in.
"Mitch, fuck you. You just sit on your saggy ass all day and slurp down drink after drink in Victor's Village. You've forgotten what it's like to be us and have to fight for what you want. You don't know anything." She sat fuming, trying to gauge Haymitch's reaction. Their mentor looked up at her with such contempt even Santana slinked away a bit. But hidden underneath the anger was a layer of pain.
"Santana, baby… Don't ever tell me what I do or don't know. I've been through more than you two will ever imagine. Don't EVER judge me. If you haven't noticed, I won the goddamn Hunger Games. That ain't easy. I'm stronger than either of you will ever be." His menacing eyes drilled straight into Santana's. She didn't look away, though her hands were shaking.
Blaine jumped in. "Haymitch… w-we understand. T-tell us what t-to d-do, and w-we'll d-do it."
Haymitch's eyes stayed glued on Santana's for a while longer, before glazing over and sealing off his true feelings once more. "Okay... let's get to practicing…"
Kurt hugged his legs close, burying his red and blotchy face into the coarse fabric of his pants. The party occurring downstairs was quiet and respectful, but to Kurt, each voice was the equivalent of ten. He just wanted everyone to leave him in his own miserable silence.
Finn and Rachel had nervously gone through with the wedding, per Kurt's insistence. He had slumped in the back pew as they read their vows. He couldn't feel truly happy for them, not when his life had just been cut so short. The person he loved more than life itself had been sent to face death.
The wedding was especially painful, because it reminded him harshly that he would never get one with Blaine. He fingered the little ring box in his pocket sadly. He'd hoped to propose to Blaine shortly after next year's reaping, once they were for sure safe. Now he might never get the chance to.
His horrible sadness was overwhelmed by his immense guilt. How could he have let Blaine go through with volunteering? Kurt hated himself more and more every minute. If his name hadn't been called, then they'd both be safe and in love and alive, right?
Kurt's eyes began leaking again, for the ten-millionth time that day. He couldn't handle any of this. He was so broken, so tired, and yet he could not sleep. He was a complete mess.
Telltale creaking sounding out in the hall alerted him that his dad was approaching. Burt opened the door slowly, carefully, eyeing his son with weary eyes.
"I brought you some food, Kurt," Burt began, placing a small plate loaded with duck and vegetables on the floor next to his son. Kurt sighed, burying his head in his hands. Burt slid over.
"Kurt…" Burt murmured as he wrapped his strong arms around his son's quivering form.
"Dad… Dad, Blaine's gone. The love of my life is gone, and he's probably never coming back. How am I supposed to just keep living as though nothing bad has happened?"
Burt breathed out deeply, a morose sound that spurred Kurt to cry harder. Burt rubbed his hands along Kurt's freezing arms. "I don't think you're supposed to son. No one around you expects everything to be the same. That being said, you shouldn't either. Let yourself be sad if you want to. Be human. It's okay to do that sometimes." Kurt burrowed his head into Burt's chest and gripped at his dad's shirt.
"I just miss him so much…"
I know Kurt. I know."
"So are either of you dating anyone?" Haymitch inquired. They'd just begun another practice session. The first had been grueling for both tributes as they practiced to perfect their new personas. Haymitch was ecstatic about his ideas, but the teenagers were borderline furious with him.
They'd been granted short lunch break, which turned out to be an incredibly awkward affair. Effie was still upset by breakfast and sat a few chairs from everyone else, occasionally harrumphing in their direction or tutting attendees at their mistakes. Santana and Blaine each scarfed down a hearty meal, feeling full for the first time in their lives. Haymitch was absent, as he'd apparently requested his lunch be delivered to his room.
Now here they were, back in the practice room, facing an extremely difficult question. Santana glanced nervously at Blaine. How were they supposed to know how Haymitch would react?
Santana took the lead. "Yes," she said stiffly. Haymitch raised an appraising brow, willing her to continue. Santana steeled herself, and said smoothly, "I've been with Brit for just under a year, and Blaine's been dating Kurt for a year and a half."
Haymitch's eyebrows shot even further up. "So you two are…" he pointed at both.
Blaine nodded quickly. "G-gay, yes." He worried his lip.
Haymitch nodded to himself slowly. "Well, this certainly changes things…"
Santana opened her mouth to argue with him, but he held up a silencing finger. "Santana, no more bitching. I thought we've been working on that." Santana snapped her mouth shut, her gaze steely with anger. Haymitch continued, "Well, I personally have no problem with who you guys date. It doesn't matter to me. But the sponsors are strict and I can't see them liking any of that… not to mention how the other victors would view you. Especially you, Blaine. We can't let them know…" Haymitch looked up at them apologetically. "From now on… you two are the Games' newest couple."
Kurt finally ceased crying and pulled back, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, from his father's chest. "Sorry, Dad, I haven't freaked out like that since…" He gulped.
Burt shook his head and whispered, "Kurt, you have nothing to apologize for." He wiped away a few of his own tears before saying gruffly, "If it's hitting all of us hard, I can't even imagine how you feel, son."
Kurt whimpered and snuggled into himself again. "I can't imagine life without him." In a sudden burst of anger, he slammed his fists to the ground. Burt didn't even flinch. "It's just not fair! First I lose my mom, and then I lose him! And Santana! Brittany doesn't understand what's happening; no one has the heart to explain it to her. Life's just not fair…" Kurt's eyes blazed. "He had nothing, Dad. His mom died during childbirth. His dad died in that goddamn mining explosion. And Cooper…" Kurt trailed off, realization hitting him like a freight train. "Dad, Cooper died there. Cooper died in the games." Memories flashed in his mind of that day, the day he first encountered his beautiful boyfriend.
Kurt shook himself from the haunting thoughts and whispered, "This must be so hard on him…"
Burt shuffled closer to Kurt and hugged him again. Kurt sniffled quietly, finally calming down.
"Kurt," Burt said, raising Kurt's chin to look into his eyes, "Blaine had something. He had you. And I know for sure he will fight for you. He loves you so much Kurt. Don't give up hope on that."
Santana flipped as soon as Haymitch uttered those words. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Blaine felt nauseous. His head swam. Kurt wouldn't be able to handle seeing him dating Santana. He himself couldn't handle that big of a lie.
Haymitch looked honestly sorry. "Look guys, I know this will be hard, but this isn't a game. It's survival. We have to do this, or else it will be as though you two have targets plastered on your foreheads. Misfits always do in the Games… I just want to protect you two."
Santana looked ready to continue arguing, but then she saw the earnest look in their mentor's eyes. She paused, and then nodded resignedly. Blaine was dizzy with emotions. "What d-do I t-tell Kurt?" He inquired.
Haymitch turned to him and said sadly, "You won't be able to talk to him until after. You can't explain it to him."
Blaine bit his lip, tearing the skin. He nodded and turned his head away. The metallic blood dripping into his mouth from his newly split lip made his stomach toss. He wouldn't be able to tell Kurt it was all a lie. His beloved boyfriend would be so confused, so heartbroken. Blaine felt so guilty, so sad.
Haymitch looked at the two as they tried to contain their emotions. "Listen, guys, I think that's enough for today. Why don't you two head out? We can finish up tomorrow." He had never felt anything more than a remote sadness for his tributes, but these two were different. He couldn't stand to see them like this any longer.
The two nodded, both lost in their own thoughts. They filed out of the room.
Dinner passed quickly. Haymitch escaped to the privacy of his room again, but Effie sidled back up to the two as though they were forgiven, and chattered their ears off. Both tributes just wanted to be on their own, but neither had the strength to tell Effie to leave.
Blaine was just about to return to his room after the meal when Effie squealed and began pointing feverishly at the windows of the train. "Oh goody! We've arrived!"
Blaine turned his head to see, instead of the whizzing wilderness he'd grown so accustomed to on the train ride, a shining metropolis, with gleaming buildings stacked high into the air and dazzlingly clean roads stretching and weaving through the city. It was a place more spectacular than he'd ever witnessed in his life. He felt Santana approach beside him, and he hesitantly grabbed her hand. Both were completely overwhelmed with a tumultuous wave of emotion. Blaine's eyes pricked with tears. This was really happening.
Effie beamed, spun around, and shrieked in her shrill voice, "Welcome, my dears, to the Capitol!"
A/N: So they've finally arrived! Makeovers next, and more angst. I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts!
Review please!