BLEEDING ⭒ the hunger games¹ [DISCONTINUED]

fourteen ⭒ heartache

FOURTEEN _ HEARTACHE

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COMFORT CROWD _ CONAN GRAY

❝this hurt that i'm holding's getting heavy, but imma keep a smile on my shoulders 'til i'm sweaty. begging on my knees: screaming, 'someone come and help me' ❞

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MY HANDS SHAKE as I walk into the waiting room, trying to desperately hold onto the charm of my lightning bolt necklace in hopes of gaining the slightest bit of confidence.

I'm only now seeming to realize that I am completely alone.

I'm on some kind of drug that is keeping me upright, I don't have Caspian for an ally, or anyone for that matter, and I barely did any training for the interview.

I force myself to suck in a heavy breath and move forward.

The holding room is walled with sleek metal and many tables and couches fill the floor space. Every available surface is covered in platters of food and drink, some of which I've never even heard of. I'd be glad to try each of them any day, but I'm afraid that if I eat now I'll throw up all over Caesar Flickerman.

Other tributes, stylists and even mentors and escorts lounge on the sofas and huddle by the buffet. Jax and Amber are whispering to eachother as they look around at the other tributes, him dressed in a sharp dark blue suit, her in a blush pink ballgown. Winnifred and Lincoln look extremely pale, and they sit stiffly next to eachother, both dressed in white with small halos and angel wings floating on their bodies. Moonie is near the buffet, although she isn't eating or drinking anything, and Flint isn't here yet. I don't blame him- the district twelve kids have a long time to wait. All of the careers are laughing and joking with anyone they can find- that is, anyone but the tributes not included in their pack.

And then I catch his eyes.

He's dressed in an all black suit, with dark gloves and shined shoes to match. His hair has been slightly swept aside to give it that rugged, boyish look that Finnick Odair pulls off so effortlessly, and even though I think it's meant to be discreet, I can see hints of makeup on his face.

Caspian studies me, and I watch his lips part into a small 'wow' that sends a blush creeping up my cheeks. As if he suddenly remembers he's not supposed to like me, he clears his throat and turns to the buffet, pouring himself a glass of some kind of beverage.

An ache settles in my chest, and it feels like all of the breath has been swept from my lungs. The dizzy feeling returns to my head- I'm so dizzy- and I collapse onto a plush armchair in the corner of the room.

An avox hands me a drink, and I think it must have some kind of medicine in it because it tastes abnormally sour and bitter. All of them must be watching me now, I think, risking a quick glance to my side. On alert for when I finally pass out.

Suddenly, a screen infront of me explodes with color and noise: flashing spotlights, the cheers of a crowd- the cheers of a crowd that I don't need a TV to hear. It seems as if they're right next to me. The probably are.

"Introducing your favorite hunger games host, Caaaeeeesaar Flickermaaaaan!" The same moment that Caesar appears on the screen, standing on an epic stage infront of a million towering screens that show images of him laughing, smiling, being the Capitol's darling celebrity, Harmony from district one is ushered to a side door by a serious looking man in a black suit. People around me with headsets and controllers are speaking hurriedly into walkie-talkies and rushing around the room.