Prompt:I love your stories could you do one with the song "starring role" from marina and the diamonds because it just fits them perfectly ;)

It was a popular song because I had this prompt 3 times ^^ As usual, it's a serie of drabbles 100 words each.

Starring Role

You're hard to hug, tough to talk to
And I never fall asleep, when you're in my bed
All you give me is a heartbeat

They never talk when they're in bed.

She doesn't even understand how they always seem to end up in bed in the first place.

They never talk, period. They shout. They scream. Sometimes she slaps him, he never did raise a hand on her but he came close more than once. She would almost prefer it if he actually did, at least it would be something.

They just had sex and they're lying side by side, not looking at each other, not saying a word. She wants to reach out, she knows it wouldn't be welcome. She's sick of it.

I've turned into a statue
And it makes me feel depressed
Cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed

Their last tribute dies and she reaches out for his hand.

Mistake.

He storms out with a sneer, leaving her smiling pleasantly at the crowd around them, shaking her head and sprouting jokes about sore losers. She feels as if she's dying inside.

He comes back to her later, so late in the night she's already in bed. He's drunk and he's rough but she lets him take what he wants because these are the only moments when he admits he needs something from her. She will take despair over contempt. Naked skin on naked skin, they're not so different.

You don't love me, big fucking deal
I'll never tell, you how I feel

"I hate you." he mumbles.

The words don't hurt anymore. She's numb to them, he had spat them to her face one too many times. It's almost funny, she thinks, how hopelessly twisted they are : he hates her and she loves him.

She wonders what sort of a masochist she is to keep torturing herself like that.

She wonders what sort of a woman she is to fall in love with a man who never looks at her with anything other than loathing.

Sometimes she thinks he would destroy her if he could.

He already did.

He would never know.

It almost feels like a joke to play out the part
When you are not the starring role in someone else's heart

She catches him staring at an old frayed pink ribbon. He doesn't give her any explanations, he barely glances up at her. Even the way he brings the glass to his lips is mechanic.

He's lost to her, lost to a past and to the ghost of a District girl who was nowhere near as pretty as she is.

It's unfair.

He doesn't react when she snatches the glass from his hand or when it shatters on the floor. He pushes her hard when she reaches for the ribbon. For the first time, she's afraid. He leaves and she cries.

You know I'd rather work alone, than play a supporting role
If I can't get the starring role.

She avoids him but she doesn't think he notices.

She laughs louder, smiles wider, plays the part of the happy little escort to the perfection. Twelve might have lost but she's the darling of this season. Everyone copies her dresses, her hairstyle, her make-up… She's interviewed every day. She's on the cover of every magazine in the Capitol. Her face is everywhere in the City.

He doesn't even see it.

All he sees is the frayed ribbon and the ghost he can't reach.

Effie is only convenient. She can't bear it anymore. She has never been second-best in her life.

Sometimes I ignore you so I feel in control
Cause really, I adore you, and I can't leave you alone

Seneca is the perfect man : rich, well-mannered and on his way to be the next Head Gamemaker. They have chemistry. The whole city is fawning over a possible love affair between them. A fairytale like story : the escort and the Gamemaker.

She doesn't know how much is part of the Games anymore. Seneca is sweet so she lets him take her to bed one night.

He's the perfect man, she tells herself again and again, yet, she feels nothing.

It's awkward and she runs out of his flat as soon as propriety allows her.

Apparently, she's made for imperfect men.

Fed up with the fantasies, they cover what is wrong
Come on, baby, let's just, get drunk, forget we don't get on

Haymitch scowls as soon as he sees the hickeys on her neck but it turns to a frown when she reaches for his bottle with trembling hands. She swallows enough liquor to make her head spin.

He doesn't ask anything but his fingers are gentle when they brush against the marks. She doesn't want gentle, gentle does nothing for her. She grabs and tugs and pushes until he gives in and pins her to the wall.

She doesn't want to be second-best but she'd rather be second-best than nothing at all.

She hates him for that.

She'll never tell him.

I never sent for love, I never had a heart to mend
Because before the start began, I always saw the end

Strangers love her, worship her, but she can never get people she loves to love her back.

She learned that lesson a long time ago. It's carved in stone.

She's starving for love but she never wanted to fall in that trap. Too late. It hurts just as much as she knew it would.

He brushes a tentative hand against her cheek before leaving her bed, glances back, he never did that before. She doesn't know if it's apology or something else. She wishes he hadn't.

It hurts even more when he's nice.

She wants his love not his pity.