Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc.

Written for Starvation Forum's July prompt, 'Celebration'.

Angst ahead. That is all.

brittle smiles & pretty, useless gifts

There is no celebration when Cashmere Chrome is born. Her parents wanted her to be born the day after the annual Hunger Games reaping, you see – that way, she would have the most time to train for when she would inevitably volunteer.

Instead, pretty little Cashmere is born on the first day of the annual Victory Tour, and her parents never let her forget it. Gloss was born at the right time.

(As if it's her fault that her mother got pregnant at the wrong time.)

xx

Sometimes Cashmere thinks that Gloss is the only tolerable person in all of District One.

At four years older than her, Gloss protects her from the malicious attention of the older boys who think that she's a soft target, and he helps her with her own training. She isn't as talented as him, but everyone tells her she can make it on her good looks.

Like Cashmere should be proud that she was born so beautiful. As if she should celebrate the fact that people only see a pretty face, and never the far more complex person beneath the surface. Should she celebrate constantly being taken for granted? She hates the 'dumb blonde' stereotype that seems to follow her everywhere she goes.

(As if it's her fault that her brittle smile is so, so pretty.)

xx

On his last day as an eighteen year old, Gloss Chrome volunteers for the Sixty-Second Hunger Games. Her parents are ecstatic during the hour they have for goodbyes (not farewells, Cashmere tells herself; Gloss is going to be coming back), like they're already celebrating his successful return from the Games.

The siblings share a look, like, parents. Gloss doesn't look overly worried; Cashmere feels like she has that covered for both of them. She only manages a shaky, brittle smile, her arms trembling when she gives him one last hug before he is ushered to the train to the Capitol.

Back home, her parents break out the champagne and get royally wasted. They talk about Gloss' accomplishments – his successes in training, his almost impossible good looks – as if they are personally responsible for his abilities. Or as if they think of Gloss as a mere object that they have created and moulded, never mind all the effort that he has put in.

They don't say anything, but there's always a significant pause after every celebratory toast, and they glance at Cashmere. She can hear the unheard but this one, now...

(As if it's her fault that she isn't as talented as Gloss, never mind that there's four years between them.)

xx

Gloss returns, of course. Things are more or less the same. (Mostly less.) Most of his smiles don't reach his eyes anymore; they seem brittle, like the slightest pressure will cause them to shatter. His temper is shorter, though Cashmere is seldom on the receiving end of it. And he always stays as far away as possible from the decorative pond in the centre of the District's main square, when he absolutely has to walk through it.

Cashmere thinks it has something to do with his oceanic arena – but she never asks, after the first time when Gloss actually snapped at her for doing so.

Her parents are living the high(er) life. They were rich before, but Gloss' victory money gives them that much more wealth and status. It's like a constant party at the Chrome residence, to the point that Cashmere practically begs Gloss to let her move into his home in the Victor's Village. He lets her, of course.

(But then, neither of them can stomach the idea that their parents are celebrating their increased success and ignoring the damage that Gloss' victory caused him.)

xx

The only person who celebrates Cashmere's birthday is Gloss. Oh, sure, she gets lavish gifts every year – gleaming jewellery and expensive clothes and other beautiful things – but, you know, she's not interested in those things.

Gloss buys her gifts that she actually wants. He's the only one who even bothers to find out what she likes, instead of assuming she wants useless, pretty things.

Not to mention, her birthday is always overshadowed by the kick-off of the latest victor's Tour.

This year is different, though – this year, it's Gloss' Victory Tour. Cashmere has no one to celebrate her birthday with.

Instead, she spends her birthday alone in Gloss' empty house, surrounded by her latest gifts, useless, beautiful things like always. She watches Gloss spend a day in District Twelve, his now-brittle smile strained even thinner than it was when he first returned (broken) from his arena.

It's a sham: the people of Panem's most downtrodden District pretending to celebrate the man who returned alive at the cost of two of their own.

(But then, the same scene plays out in every District; mockeries of celebration and false smiles shining from her television.)

xx

Cashmere is reaped for the Sixty-Third Hunger Games when she is fifteen.

Somehow, no one steps up to volunteer.

When her parents and Gloss appear to bid her farewell (because that's what she thinks this is; she's not going to be coming back) there are no smiles, or encouraging words.

Gloss stands off to the side, his fists furiously clenched, a savage anger that first appeared during his Games in his eyes that seems directed as much at himself as it is at their parents.

Her parents look like they have already given Cashmere up for dead. They cast sidelong glances at Gloss, like, but at least we have this meal ticket.

Cashmere wonders if they'll go home and get drunk like when Gloss volunteered, except this time it'll be in honour of getting rid of their failure of a second child.

Her parents leave without a word to her, their faces serious. She can't help but compare this scene to the one from a year ago: the discrepancies are obvious.

(But then, this isn't a celebration, like when Gloss volunteered a year ago; it's a funeral, except she's still breathing.)

xx

The boy from Four – Phineas Odair – should have won. He was stronger, better, than she is. Cashmere knows this. (But, you see, Phineas isn't beautiful, like his brother will be, and things like this matter to the Gamemakers.)

Phineas staggers into the cave where she is hiding, blood streaming from a gash in his stomach. It stinks, and she knows that he only has a long, painful death to look forward to. Mutts have done her job for her, all Cashmere needs to do is draw her knife across his throat.

Trumpets blare, and Claudius Templesmith announces her victory. In the lull between this announcement and the hovercraft arriving to pick her up, the trumpets continue, accompanied by the cheers of the Capitol nearly drowning them out, blaring from hidden speakers around the coastal arena.

They're celebrating my victory, Cashmere realizes dazedly, her hands shaking from fatigue and hunger and shock.

In the whirlwind culminating in her interview on national television, Cashmere doesn't notice the haunted look in Gloss' eyes, so caught up in the excitement of people actually celebrating her for once.

(But then, she didn't actually kill anyone except Phineas and the mortally wounded girl from Seven, so she isn't wracked by survivor's guilt like so many others before her.)

xx

Her sixteenth birthday is the first day of her Victory Tour. District Twelve celebrates it with her, lavish meals and brittle smiles and pretty, useless gifts, so it almost feels just like home, you know?

That night, an overweight, alcoholic official from the Capitol celebrates her coming of age in an entirely different way.

(But then, none of her birthdays have ever been happy; why should this celebration have been any different?)

xx

And then, endless years later (but really, it's only eight; it just feels like longer though, you know?): the Quarter Quell.

Cashmere doesn't want to win. She's not sure she can survive being celebrated by the Capitol any more than she already has been.

But that's not going to be a problem: the Gamemakers won't be on her side, this time. Finnick Odair is far more popular than she will ever be (for which she is forever grateful) and there's Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, too. Not to mention, she didn't win on her skills, like most of the other victors did.

She's glad, though, that she has no chance to win. She runs up the beach with Gloss at her side, and doesn't feel any fear. This isn't a funeral, it's a celebration, you see.

(Cashmere smiles beatifically when Johanna Mason puts an axe through her chest; all she thinks is, finally.)

A/N: Somewhat related to '(this isn't a) Love Story' but at the same time not, because I changed Cashmere's age and other dates... The only thing that's really similar is Cashmere/Gloss' last name. Eh.

Feedback of any sort is greatly appreciated ~