Chapter Text
Martyn walked down the streets of his town, glaring at anyone who looked at him. Once he reached a large luxurious house, he took down his hood and stepped inside. The sight that awaited him was the same he’d had to endure for a long time now, and was used to, but was still a depressing sight to see.
His mother and father, Roberta and Cringle, were screaming their heads off, yelling at each other about Lord knows what. Martyn sighed as they quieted down after realizing their son in the living room, and his mother softened her expression.
“Oh, honey! We’re so… wait, did you just come into the house.” His mom asked, observing his shoes. Martyn cursed under his breath. He had forgotten to take his boots off.
“Now, young man, that’s no way to act! Imagine what people would think if they saw you roaming the streets like a low-life hood!” His father yelled. Martyn didn’t react.
“How do you expect us to keep our reputation if our own son won’t stay in line! You could have been caught by a peace keeper!” His father continued, pacing. They had this discussion every night.
“Sorry. Won’t happen again.” The lie came so easily now, it was almost without thought.
“No, no.” His father wagged his finger.
“We’re not going to be spouting the same empty promises! You are to stay under your mother and I’s watch now.” Martyn scoffed under his breath. His mother always was getting drunk and his father always had work.
His father seemed to read his mind, because he glanced at Roberta and she nodded.
“Sweetie, your cousin will be coming to live with us for a while.” Martyn’s mother said. Martyn raised an eyebrow in confusion.
His cousin, aunt, and uncle lived not too far away from them and had a mansion bigger than theirs. Why would they need to live with them?
“Your uncle got laid off, sweetie.” His mother explained, answering his silent question.
“They're losing the house.” His father nodded.
“Your cousin will be able to keep an eye on you, so you can’t do anything rash.” Martyn swung his head up.
“What?! I don’t need a babysitter! Jimmy’s younger than ME!” Martyn yelled.
“Do not take that tone with me, young man!” His father said harshly, and his mother pointedly left the room. His father lifted him up by the shirt.
“First, you’re constantly sneaking out at night, now you talk back to me.” His father spat.
“Sneaking out like a dirty gay!” Martyn growled under his breath and bit his father’s hand.
His father dropped him, surprise overcoming his features before turning into anger. He back-handed his son across the face, sending Martyn tumbling to the ground.
Martyn gasped, back hitting against a nearby wall. He slowly brought his hand to touch his sore cheek, his hand coming back slightly bloody.
Tears pricked Martyn’s eyes. This wasn’t a new scenario, but it still hurt. Both physically and emotionally. Martyn stood on shaky feet to face his father.
“I leave the house to get away from you and mom’s stupid arguing!” Martyn yelled, pent-up anger breaking free.
“I don’t care about your reputation! I care about keeping my mental stability without your poisoning!” And with that, Martyn swung open the front door and ran into the dark night once more.
“You get back here, boy! No dinner for you!” But Martyn didn’t care.
He ran, and ran, and ran, tears streaming down his face. He looked up at the night sky, letting the stars guide him as he ran out of town into the woods. It was hell in district 1.
Hell dressed like heaven and luxury.
***
Scott sighed as he swung his sword at his opponent. Block, parry, stab, roll, duck.
The same routine.
He didn’t flinch when his opponent's sword cut his face, only swinging his sword to trip the other and point it at their neck, claiming the win.
His opponent, who happened to be his best friend, Gemini, sighed.
“Looks like we’re tied.” Gem said.
“Six wins each.” Scott nodded and took her hand, helping her up. Gem grunted slightly from the effort, but was unharmed from their various fights. Scott had a few small cuts, but was otherwise just tired.
“Dinner at my place?” Gem offered, wiping her freckle-covered brow, and sweeping red hair that stuck to her forehead away.
“Thought you’d never ask.” Scott said, and the pair headed left down a familiar green path.
Scott had a house the size of Gem’s with even more food than her, but the company there was less than pleasant. Scott was still so surprised he was able to be defined as male without the peacekeepers knowing.
He had snuck into the main capital building in their district, district 2, and changed his photo from his past self of long hair and dress to his current look of short hair and suit (the peacekeepers always made them wear dresses or suits for their citizen pictures) and changed the name from ‘Alice Major, female’, to, ‘Scott Major, male’.
It was not an easy task, requiring stolen clothes, security passes, and disabling cameras. He was almost caught twice. His parents, of course, found out and were disappointed.
They were already gritting their teeth about his style, his short, cyan-dyed hair, and his refusal to talk to them if they used she/her pronouns for him.
They especially were not fond of Gem, who was outwardly bi, and not afraid to show it. So most gatherings and meals were at Gem’s house, where her very accepting parents greeted them, asked about their day, and treated them with respect.
So he and Gem walked under the night sky, laughing. Unknowing of the tragic events over the next few months that would start tomorrow. At the Reaping.
***
Tango sighed as he fiddled with his tablet. It had a design of a house that would never be built. Tango wished he could have some sort of technology job.
Most would believe that there were many technology knowledge folk in district 3, but there weren’t any. Not real ones, anyway.
Tango and Impulse seemed to be the only ones.
Speaking of his best friend, Impulse, he was pacing his living room, panicking.
“Dude! I have this project due in, like, one week and I’m not even close to finishing it! What if I get fired? What if they don’t like it!? What if-” Tango took his friend by the shoulders to stop his rambling and pacing.
“What am I? A slice of meat!?” Tango asked. Impulse looked confused for a moment before realizing.
“Oh… but is it okay to have help? Wouldn’t that technically be cheating-?” Tango cut off his friend.
“I don’t have a job. I’d love to have one, but… you know how my parents are.” Impulse winced in sympathy.
Tango’s parents were very overprotective, and rightfully so after the fire accident that still made an impact on Tango’s life, including his shaved head he covers with a hat, only his bangs peaking out, and his scratchy voice from the smoke.
“This might be my only chance of experiencing something close to having work! Please?” Impulse sighed and nodded.
Tango squealed, hugging his friend in joy. Impulse chuckled and patted his friends back.
“You won’t regret it, Impy! Promise!” Impulse grunted slightly as Tango hugged him tighter. Impulse had more muscle and was bigger than Tango, but Tango still had muscle. Not to mention Impulse wasn’t really in the best of shape around his middle, where Tango was tightly squeezing.
Tango let go of his friend, apologizing quietly. Impulse just shook his head with a chuckle.
“Let’s get some fresh air, you need it.” Tango suggested. Impulse sighed, and nodded in agreement. The duo went out into the night, breathing in the cool, soothing air. Usually, Tango didn’t like the cold, but this time, he welcomed it gratefully.
“This is nice.” Impulse stated. Tango hummed in agreement. The two best friends stared into the night sky, Tango leaning his head on his friend's shoulder.
They both had been asked many times if they were dating, and even got bullied for being, quote on quote, ‘gay’. They had both politely declined dating or being gay.
Well, technically they weren't, they were bi, not gay. At any point, they were close. They were closer than anyone else could be as friends.
And both of them wouldn’t have it any other way.
The night sky glittered with stars, the moon shining on the two friends, and they both appreciated its beauty silently.
***
Grian sighed as he leaned against a nearby tree, pulling in the string of his rod before releasing it back into the stream.
He watched a peacekeeper standing guard a few feet away from him warily, making sure not to draw too much attention to himself. If you didn’t make yourself invisible, you were punished.
If you did anything they didn’t like, you were punished. It was the rules in district 4. And Grian followed them.
But Lizzie did not.
“When do you think we’ll be done?” She whispered to Grian. Grian shot her a weird look.
“I don’t know… must be soon, it’s almost midnight, and we’ve been working since sunrise.” They had also been given very few breaks. Mostly just for food, water, or using the restroom. In the woods. Grian grimaced just thinking about it.
He was exhausted, hungry, and in need of a shower. Except he didn’t have food. Or a shower. He’d have to look for berries and wash in a nearby stream without being caught after they were done with their fishing work.
It was absolute torture, catching fish, watching it be cooked, and then eaten by someone else. The fishermen couldn’t even eat the fish they caught. Only bread, cheese, berries, or, if they behaved and were lucky, a small piece of turkey.
Lizzie huffed at his answer.
“I’m gonna go ask.” Grian’s eyes widened in shock, but he tried to act normal so the peacekeeper wouldn’t get suspicious.
“Lizzie no-” She was already gone, heading towards the closest peacekeeper she saw. The peacekeeper glared at her.
“Why aren’t you working?” He asked.
“We’ve been working since sunrise and it’s almost midnight. Shouldn’t we be done?” Lizzie demanded. Grian winced, trying to get her attention by widening his eyes frantically at her without alerting the peacekeeper.
She ignored him.
“You will be done once we say you’re done.” The peacekeeper stated. Lizzie gritted her teeth.
“How do you expect us to work like this!? Treated like slaves, not allowed to eat anything we catch, and not even paid! Most here are homeless!” Lizzie was full on yelling now, and workers around her were staring at her with wide eyes.
“You will not speak to me like that.” The peacekeeper spat, raising his hand to slap the pink haired teen. Lizzie didn’t flinch, staying where she was. Grian sighed.
He had to do something.
Before the peacekeeper could strike, Grian caught his arm. Both Lizzie and the peacekeeper looked at him in surprise.
“Look, man, we’re just tired. Maybe we could let this one go? It was… my fault, anyway. I… asked her to ask you.” Grian lied. The peacekeeper narrowed his eyes before dragging Grian by his arm into the woods.
Grian yelped and Lizzie tried to follow them, but the peacekeeper ran, effectively losing her. Lizzie stomped her foot in frustration.
“Grian! Oh God, why did you do that…?” Lizzie sobbed and buried her face in her hands.
Back with Grian and the peacekeeper, the peacekeeper took the poor boy by the front of his shirt and raised him off his feet and slammed him into a tree.
Grian gasped from the painful impact. The peacekeeper slapped him across the face and dragged his back up against the tree.
Grian gritted his teeth as he felt the rough bark tearing across his back. The peacekeeper threw him on the ground and took out his metal bar.
Grian didn’t close his eyes, not wanting to show his fear, so he focused them on the night sky. It was better to blend in. To do what you were told.
If you didn’t make yourself invisible, you were punished.
***
Ren pet his dog that was whining at his feet, gazing at her, but not really seeing her. He was too busy thinking about the reaping tomorrow.
Ren felt a slap against the back of his head, and he startled out of his daze, meeting the eyes of his sorta-friend, Mumbo.
Sure, Mumbo was nice enough, but he wasn’t really the type of friend Ren wished for. And Ren knew Mumbo felt the same way.
“Buddy, sulking won't stop it from coming.” Ren sighed. He knew Mumbo had a point, but he still was worried. Mumbo sighed, reading Ren’s thoughts.
“Just… remember to feed your little brother.” Ren nodded and got up to go outside. His dog, Cleo, wined at his feet, but he pet her head and headed outside.
Ren breathed in the night air, relaxing in the slight breeze. Memories popped into his head. His mother and father were both called for reaping when he was five. His little brother, Martin, was only a day old at the time.
Ren raised Martin on his own, but Martin was a difficult child. Throwing tantrums, complaining about the little money, food, and home space they had.
Ren tried to lighten the spirits, and point out the positives, but Martin never listened. Ren sighed as he heard his little brother, now 11, coming out of his room.
“We’re’s dinner?” Martin said gruffly. Ren growled under his breath.
“I wasn't able to find any squirrels or berries, so I’ll have to buy one at the market.” Ren replied through closed teeth. Ren’s little brother rolled his eyes.
“Whatever.” He said, starting to head back to his room. Ren sighed, tears pricking his eyes. Buying something from the market meant putting his name in the jar, and Martin knew that. He just didn’t care.
‘Be stern with him.’ Mumbo’s advice echoed in Ren's mind. They had sat down to talk about Martin’s problem, and Mumbo had not held back.
‘He’s spoiled, mate. Tell him about how if it weren’t for you, he would be dead. Let him have it. Make him understand he has to be more appreciative. Give him a consequence! Anything!’ Ren had argued, but now he knew what he had to do.
Ren took a deep breath, blinked back his tears, and hardened his eyes.
“Martin.” Martin stopped, turning back to him with a raised eyebrow, slight confusion on his face.
Ren had only called him by nicknames like ‘little bunny’ (since he could jump pretty high), and ‘rabbit boy’, never ‘Martin’. Martin widened at the dark glint in Ren’s eyes, and his hardened expression.
“Have you ever done anything for me?” Martin blinked, surprised by the question.
“Um… I don’t-” Ren cut him off.
“No.. I’ll answer it for you. You have not.” Martin gulped.
“R-ren-”
“No, let me speak.” Ren took a deep breath.
“I love you, brother, I really do. But if you’re not going to make a single effort in helping with food, water, clothes, heck, even cleaning the house once in a while, you have no right to complain about the way I do things.”
“You want to know the truth? You're a spoiled brat who expects everything to be given to him. You can’t do a single thing for yourself.”
“You can’t cook, you can’t clean, you can’t gather food or water, you can’t do anything. And yet when I do all those things for you, I get attitude, no appreciation, and hateful words.”
“So you better straighten your act, young man. Because I won’t be doing much for you anymore. I’ll give you berries every now and then, and clean my part of the house, but you're going to have to learn to clean your own room, and get your own food.”
“Tonight can be your first test.” And with that, Ren walked out of the house, gazing at the night sky instead of focusing on the tears streaming down Martin’s face. Ren stopped for a moment, turning to look at his brother.
“I love you, Martin. Which is why I’m doing this. If I’m gone, you won’t be able to care for yourself if I do everything for you.” Martin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that.
“I… I love you too.” Martin choked out. Ren smiled slightly, and headed out into the night to gather some food. For the first time, he didn’t have to worry about gathering food for another. Gathering food just for himself.
Just for him.
***
Pearl was having one of her better days. She didn’t have to worry about her power job, or putting food on the table, or cleaning the house. Joel had offered to take her place for the day as a birthday present, and now, she could just relax.
It was a bit odd, being able to just do nothing. Sipping some fresh water while leaning her back against a tree, watching the running water of the stream in front of her.
She would occasionally throw some rocks into the river, watching the splash and hearing the satisfying sound of the water as it broke through the clear surface, and sank to the bottom. She was also practicing skipping rocks, something Joel was able to do, but something she didn’t have time to learn. Now she did.
Pearl sighed. It was quite boring, though. And a little scary. She had nothing on her mind, and she knew, soon, she’d start thinking of her past. That’s always what happened when she had nothing to think about, which is why she busied herself with tasks so she didn’t have time to think about nothing.
It was both a curse and a blessing. Being able to do nothing, but being forced to think about her past. Her past in general was filled with happy, but also sad memories. Her mother and father, holding her tight as a toddler, filling her heart with warmth. Her twin brother smooshing her face between his tiny hands, giggling. Pearl smiled at the memories.
But then came the sad ones.
Her little brother. Her sweet, kind, little brother being carried away. Her father and mother screaming, her own little cries echoing in their small house.
That was ten years ago.
Her brother and mother were forced to be moved to a different district after her mother was found guilty of attempted escape. From rumors she heard of past events she couldn’t quite remember, her mother had fought back, trying to protect her brother from being sent to that awful district.
The peacekeepers were ‘forced’ to put her down.
Pearl tucked her head in her knees, but the memories kept coming. Her father had grown sick from not being able to care for himself. The stress, and trauma from his baby being taken, and his wife killed took a toll on him, and he didn’t last a year after they were gone.
Pearl, still only six years old, was taken in by a lovely couple who found her on the side of the road, where she met their son, Joel, her now best friend.
Pearl didn’t know if her brother was still alive, and the thought made her cry every day. She knew she would be able to recognize him as soon as she saw him, which was why she knew he hadn’t died in the Hunger Games, but she still was worried.
District 4 was one of the harshest districts out there. Pearl wasn’t even sure if her little brother knew her, or remembered her. Most likely not. Pearl only remembers because of her legendary memory, but even it couldn’t conjure up her brother's name from her mind.
She would find her brother. For now, she enjoyed the relaxing day, which was almost coming to an end. The sky was dark and full of stars. She began to count them, but soon fell asleep under the night sky.
***
Scar gazed up at the dark, star filled sky. The sky didn’t care who he was, why he was, where he was. It treated him like everyone else. Like Skizz treated him.
No one else seemed to appreciate it, so Scar did. He appreciated the light, though little it was, coming from the moon.
He appreciated the bright stars that also held some light, the darkness that held quiet beauty and peace. The few clouds that would bring rainfall soon. The acceptance.
The night sky had no judgment, just beauty to give. And Scar appreciated it. He took it. He worked to earn it each day. For just a moment of this.
Scar’s stomach grumbled loudly, but he ignored it, focusing on the beautiful night sky. Better to focus on pretty things than the things that can’t be helped. Like Skizz, his best friend, who was always so kind to him, and treated him like the moon did. With acceptance.
Focus on the pretty things. That was his motto. And he would stick to it.
He had come out here to get away from his problems, mostly the eating hunger, but also his parents. They were overbearing, checking on him constantly, offering their small portions of food for him.
“We don’t need it.” They’d say.
“We’ll eat in the morning.”
Scar knew it was just because of his disease. He wasn’t sick, just… broken. At least, that’s what the other kids said he was. He wasn’t, though. Just couldn’t walk without a cane, or, if things got real bad, a wheelchair made of wood and steel that was barely being held together.
His family couldn’t afford to buy one, though, with their lumber job, so he had to stick with what he got. Not that his parents hadn’t tried to buy his one that they couldn’t afford.
And Scar appreciated the gestures, but he was treated as if he was fragile. Broken. Bound to break all the way. Scar almost appreciated the bullies at school who didn’t treat him like glass more.
Almost.
Scar sighed heavily as loneliness started to creep into his heart. It was always lonely in district 7, but especially for Scar and his ‘clingy issues’. His separation anxiety always made him come back home when trying to run away.
He’d think about having to be alone for days on end, and shiver in fear. He was always going to be trapped here. Just another nameless person in district 7 who would, one way or another, die.
‘Focus on the pretty things.’ Scar repeated in his head, gazing up at the night sky once more.
‘Not the things that can’t be helped.’
Scar closed his eyes as he felt a few raindrops hit his hair.
***