unbreak my heart | {mackenzie / jacinta}

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

She was a recluse these days; Jacinta shrouded herself in the shadows of solitude, for she wasn't comfortable any other way. It was just easier—no one could hurt her if she was alone.

Her relationships were fraught, even more so than they were before. She hardly spoke to her parents, or even her siblings. They were busy anyway, she told herself, running the crime ring that should have been hers.

Surprisingly, the person she talked to the most was Justice—and they didn't even do much talking during their visits. Jacinta knew that what she was doing with him was wrong, not only was Justice a drunk but also because he was a notorious adulterer.

She smiled at Elara when she saw her, but then slept with her husband behind her back. It was cruel of her but she did not truly care. She didn't do it to hurt anyone; she did it for herself, because she could and because she wanted to.

Jacinta didn't need justification for the affair, but she often told herself that whether Justice was married didn't matter. His marriage was a sham, born from a ridiculous reality TV show. She did not believe that he loved Elara; if he did, he wouldn't be looking elsewhere for someone to warm his bed.

She and Justice had an understanding, though; neither of them could hold down a stable relationship.

There were likely still rumors of her affair with Justice lingering in the tabloids. Jacinta didn't read them anymore, but even though she and Justice were hardly regular with their meetings, she was sure the journalists of the Capitol speculated further than the truth.

For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, Jacinta emerged from the quiet solitude of her room and attended a Capitol sponsorship party. She wasn't sure what prompted her to go—perhaps she missed the limelight and the thrill of social interaction.

From the moment she entered the room, she felt heads turn, felt eyes uncomfortably stick to her skin. Jacinta was wearing one of Colt's designs, a sheer golden dress with intricate beading from the crossed halter neck to the hem.

She chatted with socialites, those brave enough to approach her, but she found none of the conversations entertaining. Just as Jacinta thought that perhaps she wasted her time by coming here tonight, she saw him.

He was standing across the room, his hair groomed, wearing a suit and tie. It had become easy to block him out over the years, to avoid eye contact, to ignore how strikingly handsome he was. It was easy to swallow down her bitter feelings—but now, as she allowed her eyes to find his, she felt them rise to the surface.

She looked away and disappeared to the corner of the room, but it wasn't long before she heard her own name on his lips.

"Jacinta Salazar,"

She nearly jumped in surprise, her heart migrating to her throat, nearly choking her.

"slumming it at a sponsorship banquet. I can't even remember the last time I saw you at one of these."

Jacinta couldn't either, but she didn't say that out loud. She tried to steady herself as she turned to face him, but she couldn't help but feel on edge. It was much more comfortable to be alone in her room, she decided. This was what she got for trying to branch out.

And of course, Mackenzie just had to add: "You look beautiful tonight."

She would have froze like a deer in headlights if her willpower to remain composed had not been so strong. Jacinta had too much pride to allow herself to look like a fool.

He offered her a glass of champagne and she took it without a second thought. Once it was in her hand, she realized that she may have just accepted an olive branch.

She didn't understand why Mackenzie was even trying to talk to her—he'd been done with her for a long time now.

Jacinta regarded him inquisitively, but she could not mask the hint of hostility in her eyes.

"Thanks," she said, taking a sip of champagne. Although Jacinta was trying to sound nonchalant, her response was ever so slightly sharper than she would have liked. "You don't look so bad yourself." Jacinta forced her tone to soften this time.

It was true what Mackenzie said, that she had not been to one of these parties in ages. There was a reason, of course, they both knew. She had slacked on her mentor duties, withdrawn from the public. Jacinta wondered where this conversation was headed, if Mackenzie was going to chew her out for leaving the burden of mentoring to rest on his shoulders. It didn't seem like him, but she knew how people could change and they had barely spoken since their breakup.

"I didn't come here to support the tributes, in all honesty," she told him casually. "These functions are boring, save for the refreshments." She hadn't been a good mentor since Mackenzie was in the Games and she was not going to pretend that she was changing now.

{ wearing }

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

Guilt was unbecoming of her.

Even when she felt it, that awful pang in the pit of her stomach, she seldom allowed it to be shown.

"Well, Diana seems to be doing a fairly decent job. I'm just trying to make sure it stays that way."

Perhaps an apology would have been appropriate at that moment, but Jacinta refused to show any vulnerability. To express remorse was to reveal weakness and Mackenzie was the last person she would allow to see such a thing. She would never admit, not even to herself, that Mackenzie had hurt her before—and she didn't want him to have the power to do it again.

Jacinta knew that shoving aside her mentor duties and leaving them all to Mackenzie had been cruel of her, but she did not linger on it for long. Instead, a clutter of images began to fall through her mind. She had kept them under lock and key for years now, but talking to Mackenzie like this must have snapped the bolts open.

In a matter of seconds, she relived the timeline of their history, from the moment they met after the 79th Reaping to the last time they spoke until now. Worst of all was not the intimate moments they shared, but rather the late night conversations they had in the dark of one of their rooms. Jacinta had almost forgotten how many secrets she had spilled to him, things that now she wished she had never said.

"It's a bit loud," Mackenzie remarked, the familiar sound of his voice focusing her concentration back onto the present.

She wouldn't look at him, really look at him. Instead, Jacinta was staring at the tie around his neck. It was easier than meeting his gaze; she was afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

"Wanna go somewhere and talk?" he asked.

Jacinta felt her breath catch in her lungs at the question. She had a gut feeling that it was not a good idea to try to face Mackenzie in private, where she was not under the public microscope.

There were so many words in her head, so many things she had wanted to say for so long. She wondered if it was the same for him, if that was the reason why he had asked to speak to her in private.

But she could feel the bitterness that once laid dormant in her heart beginning to well up again, as it did when she saw people from her past. She didn't hate Mackenzie but she knew that she had a grudge.

Mackenzie went silent when she did not answer and kept her eyes on his tie, waiting for him to say something more. But when the pause grew long, she realized that he was waiting on her.

Jacinta finally looked up and met his eyes, her expression indifferent. But she immediately regretted it as her face grew hot with chagrin and her composure began to melt. Her body moved before she could make a concrete decision. She nodded yes even though she knew she shouldn't, even though she knew that this private conversation could possibly end in disaster.

"I... suppose that would be fine," she replied cautiously, bringing her eyes down to her champagne glass and taking a much larger sip this time. "Lead the way."

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

Her nerves began to burn as they stood in silence in the elevator. She watched as Mackenzie pressed the number 7, where their living space was. Did he intend to lead her to his bedroom? Or perhaps just to the balcony, or the living room?

Jacinta was starting to question what he wanted. It didn't seem like him to stay out of contact with her for so long and then try to sleep with her out of the blue. She had to remind herself that Mackenzie wasn't Justice; he was actually a decent man.

It had been so long since she had stood this close to him. Part of her wanted him to kiss her and tell her that he was sorry for everything; the logical part of her was preparing her defenses for whatever was about to happen. Her guard was up now, more so than it usually was.

They had not even said a word since leaving the party and she was already on the defensive. Sometimes, even though four long years have passed, her mind would forget that she was no longer fighting for her life in the Arena.

The uncomfortable, burning silence continued until they reached their living space. Mackenzie dismissed the avoxes, leaving them alone in the entry room.

They were standing across from each other, but she acutely noted that Mackenzie was keeping his distance from her.

Her heart was pounding against her chest with such force that she could hear the roar of blood in her ears. She hadn't been this anxious since—she tried to stop that train of thought, but the damage had already been done. Since the first time she and Mackenzie kissed.

"I— I don't—" he seemed to be at a loss for words.

Jacinta was not. There were already sentences forming on her tongue, half of them soft and forgiving, the other half acerbic and harsh.

I'm sorry for abandoning my mentor duties. I should have been there to help you. There doesn't have to be bad blood between us. You hurt me but I forgive you, it was a long time ago. I wish we would have talked before now and I'm sorry that we didn't.

You used me and then you didn't need me anymore so you cast me aside. I was just your shoulder to cry on, that's all. I was an emotional crutch to you, nothing more. Why are you coming to me now, when you could have easily knocked on my door?

Both reflected how she felt but she couldn't decide which one was more powerful.

Mackenzie finally found his words, but they were not what Jacinta had expected.

"I miss you."

Though his words were soft, it felt as if he had slapped her in the face.

She nearly staggered back against the magnitude of what he just said but she held herself in place. Her heartbeat grew unsteady and her cheeks began to flame; she felt her composure slip completely, giving way to a conflicting expression of confusion, hurt, and vexation.

Her eyes found his and then she just blinked at him, her mind suddenly empty of words. She looked down, considering what she would say and how to find a balance between the chaos of mixed feelings that were starting to boil over.

Jacinta was split in two, her emotions a jumble of compassion and anger. She said nothing at first, her mind and her heart still debating, but then one side finally won over.

She looked back up at him, her confidence renewed by a surge of aggravation.

"It's been a long time," Jacinta began. Even though it had been well over a year, she knew that it wasn't too little, too late. Deep down she wanted to mend things with Mackenzie, but she was too prideful to approach him first or let him off easy.

"Why now?" she asked. "I thought that by this point, you would have found someone else to entertain you."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew that she shouldn't have said them. But they would have come out sooner or later and it was Mackenzie who initiated this, not her.

She was in no position to provoke this topic; she was the one sleeping around, not Mackenzie. There were never any tabloids of him sneaking out the back door for a not so clandestine affair.

But her bitter feelings had to manifest somehow, and it was easier to be jealous and petty than talk about what was really bothering her.

mackenzie: i miss you
jacinta: xxx

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

Jacinta wished that she could be heartless. Then, she wouldn't have the feel how it melted when she met Mackenzie's gaze or have to feel the wave of crushing regret that followed. She wouldn't have to feel everything that she had been suppressing for the past year.

Her feelings for Mackenzie came sharply into focus and her anger quickly fizzled out, ebbing into chagrin.

She wanted to hate him. It would have been easier if she did.

Regret burned on her tongue. Jacinta had come with her iron and fire and was ready to use it. She had been expecting a fight, only to be met with an apology. She had to remind herself that not everyone fought fire with fire, as she often did.

Jacinta had not wanted Mackenzie to be the better person — she wanted him to lash out in response, wanted him to show her that she was righteous one. But she wasn't; Mackenzie was better than her. His heart was made of gold and hers was blackened with the bitterness of solitude, grief, and anger.

No, Mackenzie, as always, was the hero. (And Salazars are not heroes.)

He should have come after her — but she shouldn't have walked away in the first place. Jacinta remembered regretting it, remembered wanting to turn back and say she was sorry. But she had been too prideful to turn the other cheek. She paid the price for it.

"I'm sorry, too," Jacinta said. She couldn't lash out at him; it would be like shooting a man who raised his hands in surrender.

Her mind took her back to two years ago, when she greeted him in the medical center after he was brought back from the arena. She had fought tooth and nail for his survival, searching for any sponsors she could find. Jacinta had failed to save her sister and so she wanted to save someone, just for once. She was a liar, a cheater, and a killer — but she was also Mackenzie's savior.

"I just —" Jacinta closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. When she opened them, she caught Mackenzie's gaze. "I just wanted you to stay. And you didn't."

And then I was alone again and I had to re-learn how to live.

When Violet died, it killed something inside of her. She was never the same after that; she knew that it was her fault her sister was sent into the Games. President Snow had told her so when she confronted him.

"There are always consequences for our actions, Miss Salazar," he had told her, taking a sip of his blood-red wine. "Always."

Jacinta had not known it then, but she traded Violet's life for her own when she speared Cynthia through the skull. She had been on her dying breath, it was all supposed to be over — and then it wasn't.

But she didn't have to feel miserable when she was with Mackenzie. She didn't have to feel like she was made of ice. They had leaned on each other; he needed her and she needed him. Until suddenly he didn't anymore — then he was gone and she let him go.

She was left to deal with her emptiness alone. Now, she was accustomed to not having to feel—or at least, being able to ignore what she felt. It was why she had carried on with Justice for so long. The two of them had an understanding and it was simple and emotionless. She never had to worry about how Justice felt or contemplate how she felt about him.

Damn you, Mackenzie, she thought to herself. You just had to go and make everything complicated.

"I felt used," she admitted. "All my life, I was taught that people were tools. I used people to get what I wanted — in and out of the Games." Even Clementa Lowe was not exempt from this; Jacinta would have killed her in the blink of an eye had it been necessary. "But I never used you. I thought we were above that."

It was okay for Justice to use her; she was using him, too. But with Mackenzie it hurt like nothing ever had before. It was a different pain than grief but it was agony all the same. She never treated him like he was less than a person — she loved him.

Jacinta did not know exactly how she felt now, but the past was clear as day.

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

"Jaci," Mackenzie called her, as he used to before everything fell apart. She missed hearing her nickname on his lips — she missed him.

"I didn't — I never meant to use you," he told her, lifting her chin with his fingers so that her eyes would meet his. Mere moments ago, she would have slapped his hand away, but all the residual bitterness within her had been washed away and now she wanted nothing more than Mackenzie's soft touch.

"I never meant to hurt you," Mackenzie continued. She felt something in her break; this was all too much for her. Overwhelmed by his sweet apology and soft gaze, Jacinta was at a loss for words.

I know, she wanted to say, but it seemed that the walls of her throat had turned to sandpaper.

"I —" he started, but he never finished, for the tension that had been building between them finally burst. Mackenzie's lips were suddenly against hers, lightning a flame of desire within her. She returned the kiss, reaching her hands up to tangle them in his air and pulling herself closer to him so her hips pressed against his.

Nothing else mattered in these moments of pure passion. Nothing — not her failures as a mentor, not Mackenzie's betrayal, not Justice Fray, not the vicious rumors surrounding Jacinta's private life, not her grief over Violetta's death. She no longer cared for the past and how much she had hurt over losing Mackenzie. The only thing that mattered was the two of them, now, in the present, and how much she wanted him.

Jacinta's entire body had grown hot and her heart was beating like a hammer in her chest. Somewhere deep down, she had known that their conversation would lead to more ever since Mackenzie asked to speak with her in private. And yet somehow she was completely unprepared for this — it had been so long...

It dawned on her how vulnerable she was right now, that Mackenzie could crush her heart in an instant. Part of her was afraid that he would, so much that she could almost feel herself trembling, while another knew that he couldn't bring himself to hurt her again.

"Forgive me," Mackenzie pleaded once he pulled away. Jacinta maintained their closeness, their bodies hardly an inch apart. She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but affection and gentleness, reminding her that he too was in a vulnerable position. She could easily push him away and tell him this was all a mistake; he too was taking a risk. And just like that, her fears and doubts dissipated like mist.

A slight playful smirk graced her lips. "Only if you make it up to me," she said quietly into his ear, her voice nearly a whisper.

Jacinta did not have a forgiving heart; she was a creature of stone and ice. But Mackenzie had broken through her defensive barriers once and was already doing it again. In spite of the wound he left behind, she didn't want to keep him shut out.

She did not know what she wanted in the long term; all she knew was that she wanted Mackenzie right now. She allowed herself to get lost in Mackenzie's warm touch, pushing away any worrying thoughts about the future.

Jacinta leaned in and kissed him again, this time much more softly. Her hand moved towards the collar of his shirt, suggestively pushing one side of it down with her thumb.