The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader

4 | The Comfort

Warning: Mentions of suicide

Once I reach my bedroom, I fall face first onto the massive bed. I don't want to hurt Newt, but I don't want to get attached to him, either. It'll hurt him more when I die or when he's forced to kill me, which will be the ultimate result. I don't want to hurt Newt.

A few hours later, it's evident that I won't be able to fall asleep. I'm too distracted. In the morning, I'll meet my prep team, and my stylist, Thomas. They'll dress me up in traditional District Twelve clothes to represent my district, which is usually a coal miner outfit or black dust covering my body. I'll show off for the Capitol. Then, in a week, I'll be sent off to the Games to kill or be killed.

I slowly rise out of bed and feel immediately cold with only the grey tank top and short black shorts I decided to wear as pyjamas. I walk round the room for five minutes or so to warm up. I don't want to get back into my bed to get warm; I have too much energy for that. I reach the button I can press for food, and know what I can do to get warmer. It's only a few hours until breakfast, but I need to feel a sense of comfort, of home. I murmur 'mint tea' into the microphone for the fourth time since leaving the district, and a steaming hot mug appears two seconds later. I take it in my hands, absorbing its heat and slowly open the door of my bedroom. I don't want to go back to bed, and I know where I can go. The door swings open easily, and this surprises me; I thought we would be trapped inside. I suppose we'd be stupid to try and escape - we wouldn't make it a metre out of the train without being caught. I close the door behind me and I enter the compartment we were watching the coverages of the reapings on just hours ago. I take a seat on the three person couch and try to fall asleep. I don't know why, but I feel so much more comfortable here than in my bedroom - it might just be that I feel less enclosed, or maybe it's the fact that the couch smells of pine needles, dirt and mint - just like Newt.

I set my empty cup down on a table next to the couch and fall asleep to be woken up only minutes later by a figure standing next to the couch.

"Hello?" the figure calls. I sigh. Who else would it be?

"Hey, Newt," I reply from the couch. He jumps three feet into the air.

"Bloody hell, y/n!" he yelps. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought I heard someone up, and I come out and you're sitting right there."

"Yeah," I offer him a small smile that I doubt he can see in the dark. I pat the space on the couch next to me, and he must be able to see the movement of my hand, because he comes and sits down next to me.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks kindly.

"Yeah," I respond tiredly. "But you kind of woke me up."

"Sorry about that, love," he says. I'm suddenly grateful for the dark; he can't see the blush on my cheeks. Love? If he wasn't so perfect, maybe it'd be easier to ignore him for the sake of him being able to kill me.

"Are you okay?" he asks me. "You're quiet."

"No, Newt, I'm not okay," I tell him. "I'm going to the arena, Newt. The arena. And I'm going to die!"

"No, you're not," he says. "Hey, I know it's dark, but look at me, y/n/n." I turn my head to look at his silhouette. "You're not going to bloody die, okay? I forbid it," he tells me.

"Yes I am!" I snap at him. "I'm going to die and you're going to win and come home and live with it! Because you're strong and smart and brave and perfect and I'll kill myself before you die, Newt!" I breathe heavily. Then realise what I just said. I admitted that I would kill myself for him. He's never going to agree, and now he'll play the hero and say no and now he'll kill himself for me!