Fluid Heart, Firey Soul (Peeta Mellark x Reader)

Chapter 10 - Improvement

The warmth of the sun hitting my face jolted me awake, my eyes snapping open in a panic. My head whipped back and forth, frantically scanning my surroundings. I was still on the rooftop, and there, beside me, lay Peeta, blissfully asleep. Images from the night before rushed back — the dance, the laughter, the candid talks. 

The song had ended, and we had laid back down on the blanket, delving into the depths of our lives— homes left behind, the haunting specter of the Games, and our unexpected friendship.

Becoming friends with Peeta was a refuge from our present. But, in the quiet recesses of my mind, an unsettling thought crept back— the fear of Peeta and me standing alone in the final two. The idea of having to hurt him was inconceivable, and I doubted he would be able to do the same thing. But one thing was sure— we couldn't both emerge from the arena, and that very idea pierced my heart with an ache I couldn't deny.

We had also spoken of our future if we hadn't been chosen for the Games. I had painted a picture of taking over my father's shop, him lingering in the background, a constant source of humorous banter and warmth. He would have finally retired, content and worry-free. Peeta shared his future of owning the bakery in town, free to do whatever he wanted with it. The possibilities were tantalizing, and in those fleeting moments, the weight of the arena seemed to momentarily dissipate.

We had to have been talking for at least a few hours and somewhere amid our conversation, exhaustion overcame me, and I succumbed to sleep.

"Peeta," I whispered urgently, getting a half-asleep grumble in return.

Undeterred, I leaned over and shook him awake, the motion proving more effective. He bolted upright, his eyes widening as he came to the same panicked realization— we had fallen asleep, and now had to sneak me back through his floor. Haymitch was an easy obstacle; a simple excuse about inebriation could suffice. However, the district's escort and the other tribute would prove to be a bigger challenge.

"We need to get out of here," I hissed, a blend of a whisper and shout.

Peeta nodded, rising to his feet and extending his arm for me to grasp. With his help, I rose to my feet, and we both moved hastily towards the door. As we descended the stairs, my senses were on high alert, scanning the floor for any signs of wakefulness. A woman with hair a soft hue of green caught my eye, her coiffed hair towering above her head like a sculpture. She wore a poofy teal dress, reminiscent of the loofahs provided for our showers. Busy with touching up the breakfast table, she momentarily disappeared down the hallway.

"Haymitch! Peeta! Lily!" she called out, her heels echoing in the opposite direction. Lily was likely Peeta's counterpart, the unfortunate girl chosen to represent District 12.

I see the distraction as my opportunity, swiftly and silently making my way to the door and closing it softly behind me. A surge of adrenaline coursed through me, the thrill of narrowly avoiding detection amplifying the urgency of my mission. I just had to get back to my floor; if no one was awake, a stealthy approach would work, otherwise I would need a plausible excuse.

I opted to take a flight of stairs down to the fourth floor, purposefully increasing my pace until a thin sheen of sweat coated my forehead. As I reached the District 4 door, I eased it open with a soft touch.

Inside, Fletcher, Finnick, and Victoria were already gathered around the table, engrossed in their breakfast. I greeted them with a slight smile and a nod, hanging my coat up by the door.

"Where have you been?" Victoria screeched, her tone sharp with concern. "We had no idea where you were!"

"Sorry," I responded with a sheepish chuckle, "I thought I'd get an early start on training. Every bit helps, right?" My explanation carried a casual tone. I knew that taking the stairs was a smart approach— it made me look the part.