Chapter 36: Perfect
Kurt’s P.O.V.
If you had asked me yesterday morning, I would have said that there was no way in a million years that being in The Hunger Games would be boring, but boring is the only word that can be used to describe it.
I sit with my back to the cliff wall, staring out across the vast arena below me. I do wonder where it ends. Is there a point where it just stops and everything beyond that is an illusion or is there simply an invisible wall separating us from the rest of the forest? I doubt I will ever know.
I have spent most of the day thinking of pointless and folly things like this, more to keep my brain occupied than anything else.
Rachel and Blaine – for the first time in hours – are silent. They have spent the entire day singing of all things; sharing songs from the Districts, doing what they could to remember songs we heard in the Capitol and on a few occasions attempting to write their own. I have learnt four things today:
1. Blaine’s voice in inhumanly perfect.
2. Rachel cannot write songs.
3. Apparently this is a better hiding place than we originally thought because no one has seen or heard us, even with all the singing.
4. There is a point when even the most beautiful voices begin to grate on you.
After the first two hours, they realised that I was not going to join in and gave up asking. At first I was glad, because I was almost ready to jump off of the cliff just so I didn’t have to put up with their questioning anymore, but after an hour of sitting there in silence I started wishing that they would start talking to me again just so I had something to do.
That was about three hours ago now.
Six hours since they started singing. Six hours since that last time I heard what silence sounds like, so as is imaginable, the change is startling.
“Did your voices finally get tired?” I ask, uncrossing my arms and turning my head toward them.
“No,” Rachel replies, but her voice, which is scratchy and course, states otherwise.
I just nod and go back to staring at nothing. The view from up here is extremely spectacular, there is no denying that, but after six hours of looking at the same things with the only action being the Careers occasionally moving around their camp down by the river and for a few hours leaving to ‘hunt,’ even the most amazing landscape gets boring. I didn’t see either of their kills, but two canons have sounded over the course of the day so I can guess that they were successful.
When the wind is blowing in the right direction the spray from the huge waterfall on our right hits my face, as it is doing now. It is refreshing and this morning, I had the ingenious idea to turn one of the backpacks inside out so that the water-resistant side was facing outwards and then place it near the edge so that water would gradually pool in it. I do have my moments. At least this way, we will not run out of water. Our food supplies on the other hand are a worry. We have enough to last us tonight and probably tomorrow as well – strictly rationing it of course – but after that I am not sure what we will do. We will face that when it happens.
“It’s too quiet now,” Rachel pouts, shredding a leaf and throwing the fragments over the edge, watching them float gently down and land in the water below.
“You’re more than welcome to start a conversation,” I say. “As long as it does not involve singing, that is.”
“What’s wrong with our singing?” she huffs.
“Nothing! Well apart from that song you wrote about your shirt. There was a lot wrong with that.”
“It was about my jacket, not my shirt!”
I purse my lips and nod, a smile fighting to break through.
“Let’s play a game!” Blaine says, moving to sit between Rachel and me.
“What are the rules of this ‘game’ you have in mind?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.
“I don’t actually know,” he admits. “I was hoping someone else knew something we could play.”
After quite a few long moments of silence, Rachel says cheerily: “We could play a game to get to know each other better? I hardly know anything about you Blaine, and I am growing to trust you – maybe – so I think I should!”
“Sounds good to me,” I say flatly.
“Sure, I’ll start,” Blaine says. “Rachel, when did you first start singing?”
I sigh and turn back to the stare at the landscape. I don’t want to so much as hear the word ‘singing’ for another week.
~
Santana almost laughed out loud at how pointless it was to assign a guard when the attack could easily come from within. Her footfalls were silent on the hard earth as she crept forward to where her allies slept. She would take them out one at a time, she decided. One tonight, another tomorrow and another the day after that until they were all gone and victory was hers.
She selected a small, single edged blade from within her jacket and knelt down next to Marble. Apart from Finn, she was the most expendable and they would not suffer at all without her. She had her order of kills planned out perfectly. First she would kill Marble, because she was not good for anything and she needed the help of the others to take down the rest of the non-Career tributes. Tomorrow night, when some more were dead, she would get Karoffsky, because it was best to eliminate someone as deadly as him while there were more people to side with Santana in the event that he fought back. Next she would kill Puck – which was a shame because he did have extremely nice arms and if things were different she would have made sure to hook up with him, but things were not different and what needed to be done needed to be done. After that she would kill Quinn and then last of all Finn. Hopefully by that stage all the other tributes would be dead, but if not, she would be able to take them out without any problem.
She silently knelt down next to the other girl and swiftly pulled her knife through the prominent vein on her neck, killing her before she could wake up or make a noise.
In the end it was the canon that woke the rest of her companions and if she had been expecting at least some anger, she was surprised because everyone seemed glad to be rid of Marble. They watched as the hovercraft reached down and picked up her limp body, leaving no trace behind except a dark red pool of blood and soon even that would soak into the earth and Marble would be gone forever.
~
Kurt’s P.O.V
It has been three days now since we entered the arena and everything has been quiet. Since the bloodbath there have only been three deaths – the two girls yesterday and one mystery tribute not five minutes ago. We sit around a tiny fire in the mouth of the cave which we managed to light using a few dead vines.
“This is the last of our food,” Rachel says dismally as she throws the fish onto the fire. How it has not gone rotten yet is beyond my comprehension. It must have something to do with the leaves we wrapped it in, or maybe it is a special Capitol creation. I will probably never know.
“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Blaine asks. “I can climb down and try to catch some more fish if you want?”
“If you’re going down we are as well,” I say.
A thick worry hangs in the air, mixed with fear and the tiniest bit of sadness. Everyone is quiet, staring into the flames and watching as the fire eats away at the kindling. We took a risk lighting a fire at night time, but it is colder tonight than it has been so far and we needed to heat up out food – the concept of eating fish that although not rotten was beginning to go an unhealthy shade of green cold being a very uninviting one.
I look up and my eyes land on Blaine, his olive skin almost golden in the firelight. The reflection of the flames dances in his hazel eyes and I honestly don’t think I have ever seen him look this beautiful. He is grimy and dirty and his hair is oily. His cheeks are somewhat sunken and starved and there are dark rings under his eyes and for the first time ever he looks less than perfect, and somehow it makes him even more perfect than he was before. Heavy shadows cast by the darkness around us endeavour to swallow him up, but the soft light cast by out fire fight them off, leaving him half dipped in blackness and half in light. His back is hunched and his head bowed in the first sign of defeat or despair I have ever seen him make. I think we are all feeling similar – mental exhaustion and hunger fighting to break out spirits. Although we have literally done nothing but sit around for the last two days, something about the arena seems to want to suck the life out of you, leaving you empty and broken and so much more willing to succumb to the Capitol’s wishes.
He must sense my eyes on him, because he looks up and meets them, giving me a tiny sad smile. My hand absentmindedly strokes the watch in my pocket and the phrase engraved on the lid runs through my mind: Pugnare pro credis, non quod alii volunt. Fight for what you believe in, not what others want. These two people in the cave with me -- Rachel and Blaine – are worth fighting for if you ask me. I believe in them; I believe in a better world to live in, one without poverty and sick games like the one we are in now. I don’t know what suddenly did it, but I now understand the phrase more than I ever have before. Pugnare pro credis, non quod alii volunt. It does not necessarily have to mean ‘start a rebellion’ like I thought it did before. Maybe there was a deeper meaning in my mother’s letter than I realised. I felt bitter because of how my mother wrote a letter in case something happened to her and dedicated it purely to telling me how much she hated the Capitol, but now I see that she was – although in a rather cryptic and odd way – telling me to do nothing more than fight for what I believe in, whether that be freedom in Panem or something smaller if that was what I wished, like better chairs for the school back home. I’m sure she never guessed the things I believe in would be a girl with an attitude much too big for her small body and a boy with the kindest and most gentle personality on earth.
My head is in a strange place tonight and it may just be the hunger and hopelessness speaking, but I suddenly want to fight. Against the other tributes, against the Capitol… it doesn’t matter. I just want someone to know how wrong all of this is and how much I love these two people and what I would give to see this – all of this – be over.
My thoughts of revenge and redemption for those who were wronged are interrupted by Rachel reaching over to pull the fish off of the fire before it burns.
“Dinner’s ready,” she says in a half-whisper, almost as if she is reluctant to break the heavy silence. She divides it amongst us and we eat without further conversation happening; only occasionally glancing over at one another thinking that maybe we should lighten the mood but then deciding it would be too hard and what would be the point anyway? We are all too depressed.
Just as I finish of my last mouthful of food, the anthem begins to play so we quickly walk out of the cave and watch as the face of the hulking girl from District Two appears in the sky.
“Well I wasn’t expecting her to be gone this early on,” Blaine says quietly.
I nod in agreement. “I know.”
The silence again takes hold until Rachel mutters “I’m going to bed” and skulks off into the cave.
I sigh and sit down, my legs hanging over the side of the ledge. I swing them back and forth, enjoying the feel of the cool night air biting at my exposed ankles. I take the pocket-watch out and turn it over and over again, watching the way the moonlight reflects off the golden surface. I don’t know how long I sit there, doing nothing; I am not even thinking about anything. It’s almost like I have worn out the ability to think. After all it is almost all I have been doing for the last … I have lost track of how long it has been since I left Twelve. But since I was reaped I have been constantly thinking and worrying and just wishing things were easier.
That it when I realise that I am in fact still deep in thought, even though that thought is about my lack of thinking.
I feel someone’s eyes on me and look over to see Blaine staring intently at me. “Is this going to become a habit with you?” I ask.
“Is what going to become a habit?” he furrows his eyebrows.
“Sneaking up on me at night while I’m unsuspecting. That made you sound creepier than I meant it to, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he smiles and the mood suddenly gets quite a bit lighter, “But I can leave if you want. All you have to do is say ‘hey Blaine you’re being really annoying and I don’t actually like you sitting with me so could you please go away.’”
I smile and shake my head, staring down at the ground dozens of metres below me. “No, I don’t mind,” I say.
A moment of silence passes, much more comfortable than before. “That’s a dragon,” Blaine says finally.
I look up at him in confusion. “What?”
“On your watch. The winged lizard thing is a dragon.”
“Oh.” I glance down at my hands to see that I have still been fiddling idly with it, tracing the engraved patterns with my thumb and flicking the latch open and closed.
“In stories, dragons are these massive fire-breathing lizards that can fly,” he continues.
“How are you so smart?” I ask with an edge to my voice.
“I’m no smarter than you are. I just know different things.”
I shake my head and sigh. “If you say so, but who has actually ever heard of a dragon?”
“Lots of people,” he shrugs. “But obviously not District 12.”
“Were they real?” I blurt out. “Before Panem?”
He laughs, but not patronisingly. “What, dragons? No I don’t think they were. I mean they could have been a long, long time ago, but they are just stories and as far as I can tell they were just stories before Panem as well.”
“Well I knew that of course,” I say icily.
He laughs again (I think he is trying to kill me) and reaches out to touch the face of the watch, his hand dangerously close to mine. Yes, he is most definitely trying to kill me. Death-by-near-contact-with-Blaine-Anderson sure would be a unique way to go.
“What does that say,” he asks, suddenly more serious.
“Pugnare pro credis, non quod alii volunt. It’s Latin for ‘fight for what you believe in, not what others want.’”
He stares up at me through half-closed lids, his eyelashes and hazel eyes also trying to kill me. “And now who’s the smart one?”
“I only know because of my mum’s letter,” I say before I can stop myself. I clamp a hand over my mouth and glance worriedly up at the sky as if that’s where the Capitol is and they are about to send Peacekeepers down to kill me for saying… saying what exactly? I didn’t actually reveal anything dangerous. I let my hand fall away from my mouth. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you anymore because…” I let my voice fade away, not sure how to finish the sentence.
Blaine seems to understand because he nods and bites his lip, glancing up at the sky as well. “It’s easy to forget sometimes isn’t it? Like, even though we just saw today’s kills, it’s almost like we are separated from the rest of the arena up here. Like we are back at home watching it on TV instead of here ourselves. Do you get what I mean?” he finishes, looking over at me.
“Yes,” I answer and I really do understand. In this secluded corner of the arena we could be on a camping trip, not in the Hunger Games! I would much rather – obviously – that we were on a camping trip, but I guess that if we were, I wouldn’t be with Blaine, because he is from District 4 and I am from District 12. We have nothing in common; I am nothing special. If not for the way things are we would probably never be friends. I feel a flicker of hope inside of me and for the first time I do truly wonder…
“Blaine,” I ask, before I can decide against it. “Why- why did you choose me to ally with? There are plenty of tributes who are more likely to survive than I am.”
He sighs and tilts his head, his eyes so full of unreadable emotion that it’s all I can do not to gasp. He looks torn and conflicted as he looks away and for a moment I think that he is not going to give me an answer, but then he takes a deep breath and says, “Kurt… there- there’s a moment when you say to yourself ‘oh there you are,” he lifts his head and stares back into my eyes and I think that my heart is literally about to stop, “I’ve been looking for you forever.’” He hesitates again and then takes another deep breath and moves closer. He reaches out, like he did when he was touching that watch, but this time he actually grabs my hand. Tingles shoot up my arm and I feel like I am about to collapse and fall off the cliff. “Watching you at the interviews the other night; seeing how brave you were – that was that moment for me… about you. You- you move me Kurt, and how could I not when this would be the only way I would get to spend more time with you.”
He stares into my eyes and I stare back – hazel meeting apparently-not-just-blue. He leans forward and rests his hand softly on the back of my neck and as I try not to explode from the sheer emotions, his lips meet mine. The kiss is everything I ever hoped it would be. His lips are soft and his rhythm is slow and steady; hesitant. I reach up and cup his face and his skin too is as soft as I dreamed. A new type of fire – one that I’ve never felt before – ignites itself in the pit of my stomach. This one is warm and pleasant and if I could feel like this all the time, I would.
We break the kiss at the same time and for a moment we just sit there, staring into each other’s eyes, a whole new plethora of meaning and emotion opened up.
“We should- we should be…” he gasps, but I don’t think he really knows where he is going with the sentence, so I say, “Shut up” and press my lips to his again. Both of our eyes flutter closed and although this kiss is no different, no harder or hungrier than the last, it is somehow even better. His hands make their way to my shoulders and our lips find the perfect rhythm and I know that in that moment -- despite the thirteen dead tributes and despite the fact that we are in the Hunger Games -- everything is perfect.
A.N. SADJHVKSNFBVSJMBDNFCSD I AM DEAD AND I AM THE ONE WHO WROTE THAT SDVFJHS ARE YOU AWARE HOW LONG THAT CHAPTER HAS BEEN IN MY BRAIN? THIS SCENE WAS WHAT SPAWNED THIS ENTIRE STORY!!!!
Did you find that chapter enjoyable? I did. The best part was that I was forced to watch the first Klaine kiss about 10 times just to, you know, get in the zone. It was so hard and I don't know how I did it! And it's not like I know that the Klaine scene starts at 17:26 in Season 2 Episode 16- Original Song. No that'd be obsessive!
Since the last chapter (which I didn't even think was that good) got 15 votes and comments (in the first two days. I love you all so much) I thought that maybe our goal for this chapter could be 15 because a) I know you guys can do it because you are awesome and b) KLAINE KISS SDVFHJBFFJSDFHDSJSKFH.
I am going to go cry now,
from me.
P.S. I hope it was everything you hoped it would be, and there is plenty more fluff and kisses where that came from.
P.P.S. Today I learnt that I am so much better at writing violence and angst than I am at writing things that are actually nice.