Never Yours (Peeta Mellark X Reader)

Chapter 11--A Night with a Career

"Cato?"

You were shocked now to see the male tribute from District 2, on your floor, simply staring out from your balcony at the Capitol down below. His back was originally faced towards you, but the moment he heard you whisper his name, he turned around, his grey eyes flashing under the bright lights of the Capitol in alarm. The ends of his dark blond hair were also glowing, and you could even make out his pale face, a sweater unzipped and hanging over his upper body, and his blue track pants.

"(Y/N)? Didn't, um, expect you to be awake," Cato finally said, laughing nervously, not moving from his position.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?" you hissed, half-surprised and half-angry at the same time. "Is this even allowed? Do they know?"

Cato laughed hollowly. "I doubt they'll ever have the chance to ask. Clove's pretty much dead asleep right now, for all I know. As for everyone else...well, they're too busy partying hard. And yeah, you got me, (Y/N). I can't sleep. Like, at all."

You nodded as you felt your feet move you forward towards Cato. "Me neither. Just...worried about things." As you finally made your way towards the balcony, you leaned against the railing, resting your hands against the metal bar as you looked on at the Capitol and all its glam. For all you know, this could be the last time you would see those lights for a very long time.

"Just...just listen to them," you muttered. "They're just cheering for our demises. Whoever would die during the Games, I mean."

Cato nodded as he leaned by the railing beside you, brushing his hair back with his hand. "It's insane, I know."

"Says the Career," you retorted quietly. "You've trained your entire life for this. What are you so scared about?"

You half-expected Cato to start boasting about himself and his strength like he probably would, but instead, he shrugged. "I...I don't know. I'm just scared about the Capitol completely changing me. I'm already dying somewhat, you know. I...I don't know if I can keep up this image."

"What do you mean? You're a fighter," you remarked. "What with your amazing strength and speed, no one can compare to you."

Cato shook his head. "No. There is one person, and she's standing beside me right now."

You turned to him in alarm. "So you're regarding me as a threat?"

"No no. Not at all," Cato said. "No threat whatsoever. Remember that first day of training? When I complimented you on everything you've done--the fire, the knives?" Cato then gave you a naturally charming smile that made you feel an unexpected rush of warmth from head to toe. "You're something, (Y/N). Maybe you could be a threat, but you're a fighter, and I accept that. Hey, I'm surprised you even outscored me and outshone us at the tribute parade."

"Says the Career," you repeated cheekily.

"Hey!"

The two of you then shared a good laugh as you both looked out again at the night sky, at the lights below, though this laugh was pretty short in comparison to the ones you shared with Peeta.

Peeta. That traitor. You had to stop yourself from balling your fists, because right now everyone on your floor is asleep and the last thing you wanted to do was wake Peeta up and engage in a fight before you entered the arena tomorrow.

"I'm being serious, (Y/N)," Cato said, a hint a sincerity in his voice now. Then he took in a deep breath and let it out in a fast exhale as he raised his hand to his hair again, clearly stumped as to what to say next.

"What--what's wrong?" you dared to ask, inching slightly closer to Cato.

Cato shook his head. "Nothing. Just...I'm sorry about you and Peeta," he finally whispered.