Orlick's POV, 9 weeks before the beginning of the 73rd Hunger Games

I look around. The working age in District 12 is technically 16, but no one's really been known to care about that. In fact, there have been 12-year-olds that they've let into the mines. I guess that if you're eligible to get sent off to the Hunger Games to your death, you can be old enough to risk your life for a good cause: money.

Do you think I really want to go into work? I'm 14. I wanted to go in earlier but my Mom wouldn't let me. I don't blame her.

Allow me to introduce myself first. I'm Orlick Bannister. I just turned 14 and I'm ready to go to work in the mines. It's what I have to do to keep my family alive.

Both of my parents are still alive, but barely. My Dad has a weak immune system. He can't stand to work… I can't blame him, he's almost always throwing up. And, when you're starving, that's bad news.

I take his old helmet and jacket before silently walking out the door. I don't want my Mom to watch me go. She'll get emotional, and that'll hurt her.

The team I'm assigned to consists of some of the teen workers. There are three of us total.

There's me, the smallest and the youngest, an 18-year-old with these really interesting eyes, and a tall, strong, and inked 16-year-old whose name I don't know. I've seen the 16-year-old around before. I think he's been drinking with some of the Peacekeepers in our District. And I recognize the 18-year-old, too. That's right, I remember now! He was the one that was whipped the other day! God… I can't believe he's back up and working already…

The 16-year-old is the only one to speak, "A little young to be working, arentcha?" he asks with a teasing smile, putting a pickax in my hands.

"As far as anyone here knows, I'm 16. But I'm actually 14."

"Well you look 10," he jokes. Then he adds, "Just kidding! You are small but you look mature enough to be 16. Which is, uh, the less subtle way of saying that you're pretty hot."

I feel a blush crawl up my neck.

He laughs, "And that's Sylvester. He doesn't talk much. I call him his last name, Stallosky." He slaps the 18-year-old on the shoulder affectionately. Sylvester cringes and he frowns, "Sorry, buddy… I keep forgetting…" he suddenly snaps back to life, "And I'm Dennis Kasparek! But you can call me whatever the hell you like." He holds out a hand and I shake it.

"It's very nice to meet you," he says with a wink.

"Nice to meet you, too," I force out weakly. My stomach is churning.

"Come on," he says, "Let's get into those mines!"

He walks and Sylvester follows. I hesitate before walking after them.

"It's real nice around here," Dennis says as we walk past some Peacekeepers. Then, when they're out of earshot, he adds, "Well, about as nice as it gets when you're starving."

"T-That's good, I guess…"

"Yeah, I suppose it sure can be."

We descend into the depths of the unknown. Dennis walks and we follow. The two older boys reach up to their heads and soon two lights appear from their helmets.

I soon do the same, finding the switch and turning it on.

"You're a quick learner, arentcha?" Dennis asks, smile still evident in his voice.

"So far, I guess…" I stammer.

The pickax soon grows heavy in my hands and I have to stop every couple of steps to put it down.

"I can take that for you," Dennis says, picking it up along with his.

"You don't have to," I mutter.

"Believe it or not, I started working at 12." He pauses, "I dunno if you're old enough to remember that huge mine explosion that happened a while ago, but I still do. I wasn't in the mines at the time, no, but I saw it happen first-hand. The grieving kids… But I guess Stallosky had it even worse than me because he knew some of the kids who lost their parents. And, frankly, I think it's amazing that kids as young as you are still brave enough to face it."

"Drastic times call for drastic measures," I say simply.

"I suppose that's true."

Dennis nods to Sylvester, "Let's stay closer to the entrance. Just for his first day, yeah?"

Sylvester gives a nod. His lunar yellow eyes seem to glow in the dark.

Dennis puts the pickax in my hands and says, "I suppose we should get to work, now."

He and Sylvester start and the noises they make in the dark cave spook me.

But soon I get to work, too.

Dennis walks me home that night.

"You don't have to do this, you know?"

He shrugs, "I'm on my way to the Hob, anyways. You're right along the way, arentcha?"

I nod.

"Besides, in all honesty, I've been through this before and I always wanted someone to do this for me."

"It's very sweet- er, um, thoughtful of you."

"You can say sweet. You know, that sounds like it's giving off a romantic feeling."

"A…Are you…. Are you hitting on me!?" I squeak.

"Aw, you're so cute!" he says with a wide smile.

"Answer the question!" I demand, even though I'm blushing all over.

"Of course I am. You're adorable. Who would not hit on you?"

"Lots of people."

"Lemme tell you something: I'm pretty damn good at getting people out of the closet. I've been working on Stallosky over there. I mean, he always looks awkward, sure, but he gets twenty times worse when the topic of homosexuality appears in conversation. But I think you just made the top of my list."

"I…I did!?" I'm not sure what to think at this point.

Sure, I've always thought that there was something special about guys… But I always figured it was because I am a guy and I have pride for my gender… But, uh, geez, this is incredibly terrible and oh dear…

Dennis picks me up like I weigh nothing and rests his forehead against mine. It's then that I notice his chocolate-brown eyes for the first time.

"Think about it, Orlick."

Then he gives me a harsh kiss on the lips. Something about it is unsettling, but mostly I feel overwhelmed with adrenaline. And something about it was so… Endearing.

Dennis drops me at my doorstep and says, "I'll see you later, Coffeecake," before continuing on his way to the Hob. I just stand there, bewildered.

Then I turn around and walk inside my house, exhausted. Every time I blink, I can see those chocolate-brown eyes in front of me again. And I don't know a lot… After all, I'm still pretty young. But what I do know is that I want to kiss Dennis again. Soon.

I sit in the train after getting reaped for the Hunger Games and feel numb.

I may've only had one shot but that's still a lot for a 14-year-old and I feel awful.

Scratches cover my arms, legs, and torso. My stomach is bruised, as is my eye, and I almost feel like I have a concussion. Someone would think I was in a bad fight.

Or maybe that my parents abused me.

I wish. But it's a lot more mature than that.

Do I regret sleeping with Dennis? More than anything I've ever done.

Dennis told me once that the injuries weren't from bad intentions… He said that's what love is.

I'm not exactly sure about that, though.

Is there a line between passion and love? There has to be. But I guess it just got really blurry last night… I mean, I was kind of drunk. Just kind of…

I mean, Dennis is certainly passionate. There's no doubt about that. And when he gets passionate, his fingernails go into my arms, and legs and torso, and he tends to beat me around. I think I saw some injuries on him, too… Thinking that I probably did that makes me sick in my stomach.

I've lost sight of love. And that's even more horrifying to me than an Arena.

Geno's really great. I don't think I could have a more lovable ally if I tried.

Yeah, love. Geno emits it. His smile is infectious, his laugh is the most joyous noise I've ever heard. Those navy eyes cause me to melt, the same way Dennis's used to, that first time I saw them up close.

He's the person I want to spend my time in the Arena with. He's really really great.

And, I'd be just fine with dying if it means that he'll win.

Dennis's POV

If you had told me three weeks ago that Orlick was going to die all because of me, I wouldn't have believed you. In fact, I may've laughed at you. And told you that if Orlick was reaped for the Games, I most certainly would've volunteered for him.

My word isn't so reliable, unfortunately.

I can't believe he's really dead and I can't believe I let it happen.

And now he's gone.

Dead, sure, but now, to me, he's both dead and gone.

I have to face it sometime: he absolutely adores that kid from District 3. Knowing that he died and it's all my fault hurts. But to know that he never even loved me in life… Hurts twice as worse. More than twice…

Losing Orlick like that just proves how incredibly broken I am. That I can never tell anyone that I love them without hurting them!

Alone.

It's such a powerful word.

I never even thought about it before because I was convinced that I could keep Orlick for the rest of my life.

God, I can't believe it… I don't have anyone anymore.

Sylvester's probably taken Orlick's side on all of this.

Well, I take Orlick's side, too. A terrible guy was abusing him, using him, possessing him, restricting him from being the boy he wanted to be. After all, he'll never get his virginity back. He'll always have scars. I'll always have them. He'll always have the memories.

I'll never be able to even think of him again without thinking about the trouble I've caused him.

When I love someone… When I genuinely love someone like I genuinely loved him…. I become abusive.

I wanted to force Orlick to love me and only me. Make him stay with force.

Maybe it's because I never liked myself and I always thought he'd leave me if I didn't force him to stay by my side. But it really only did the opposite. It was just a selfish relationship on my part. I got what I wanted from him, even if it included pressuring him into alcohol and, more importantly, sex.

So maybe I have a "charming" smile, maybe I'm built and inked in a sexy way. But I would give up absolutely everything to go back to when he was mind and alive. And slap myself across the face. Yell at myself to hold on to what I had and to not hurt Orlick. To kiss him softly and tell him how much I loved him, not to hurt him. I'd scream at my own, awful face… That when Orlick gets reaped, to volunteer for him.

But I can't.

So now I'm frozen-hearted and alone and there's nothing I can do about it.