A Million Pieces - Hunger Games (Catching Fire & Mockingjay)

Chapter 33

We're on the beach, in the spot we always go after a day of sailing. I sit cross legged on the platform that leads from the beach to the water, fixing nets, and Caspian is below me on the sand, cleaning the fish we caught today. Coventina is at the house, Finnick and Annie have already disappeared with the first bucket of fish, and Malila is still in school at this time.

"So stay away from Two," I'm saying. "They will tear you apart without hesitation. Three should be fine. In fact, maybe you should ally with them, because they've got brains. Six is just sad, all their victors have some kind of addiction, except for the man who's about seventy and can barely walk."

Caspian knows most, if not all, of this. He's actually met these victors, while I've just watched all of their Games every night for the past month. The month since the Quarter Quell was announced. But I tell him anyway, because I need to help in any way I possibly can.

Caspian is watching me with an amused expression. "And Twelve?"

My hands still for a second to think. The District 12 victors have proved the most challenging. "Haymitch has always liked you. He might agree to ally, and he'd be valuable. Maybe Peeta too," I say cautiously. "Katniss is scared. And dangerous. But in a way, she might be an easier target than in the last Games."

"Why do you say that?" he asks, dropping his clean fish into the basket.

"I think she's going to try to protect Peeta this time," I admit. "So she'll make choices for him, not herself." I fix my gaze on Caspian. "Use that, Cas. Use that as much as you can, no matter how terrible it might be."

Caspian's expression flickers for a second, growing dark. It's happened more and more since the Quarter Quell announcement. When he practices with his spear, when he watches the tapes of the Games with me, when he sits alone for a little too long.

He stands up and splashes his hands in the water to clean them off. When he turns back to me, the look has disappeared and his smile has returned.

"You're really something, you know that?" he says. I toss my hair over my shoulder and shoot him an exaggerated wink, but he ignores my playfulness. "You can read these victors you've never even spoken to, you understand districts without visiting them, you interpret the most secretive person's expressions." I tilt my head to the side, a small smile on my lips and my brows furrowed. He hesitates. "And yet you can barely understand someone's feelings about you. I don't get it, Sapphire."

"What? I understand you perfectly well," I say much too quickly.

He grins. "What makes you think I'm talking about myself?"

I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. "Because you're very self-centred, aren't you?" I answer even though it's a complete lie. Quickly, I look back down at the net in my hands. "That's beside the point, I understand you just fine."

"Do you really?" he asks lightly, almost as a dare. I sense that Caspian will never stop bothering me if I don't address this. I nod - too vigorously to be convincing - and he walks over to stand in front of me. In response, I stand up, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Yes, you're completely in love with me but you want to marry your Capitol stylist - for the fame, of course. Oh, and your most desperate wish is to be a parrot and fly away from all this," I say dramatically, hoping to make him laugh.

He allows me a smile. "Maybe you're better at this than I thought," he says, and it doesn't sound like he's playing along with my joke.

I roll my eyes and take a step back, hoping to hide the very obvious hammering of my heart against my chest. "Exactly, don't underestimate me, Cas."

I feel Caspian's hand clasp around my elbow, and he pulls me back so I'm facing him again. He's suddenly a lot closer than I remember and I suck in a sharp breath. "Do you understand when I do this, Sapph?"

He leans forward. At first I have no idea what he's doing, but then his eyelids flicker shut and his mouth tips towards mine. My eyes are glued to his lips, at how they come closer and closer, how they wait for mine. I feel myself rooted to the ground and I hate it. I am not a tree, I am a current of water. I move and I'm free. But in this moment, I am frozen. I couldn't back away if I tried, but I can't lean in either, even though it feels like my stupid little heart is pulling at my chest, aching to reach Caspian.

He draws closer, his hand resting on my hip. There's a burning sensation as his skin touches mine, separated only by a thin shirt. His face is millimetres away. Just as his lips softly brush mine, I seem to regain the use of my body. I want to stay there, but then his other hand makes its way to my cheek and I panic. I leap away from him and blink about a hundred times, breathing hard. Caspian watches me, clearly trying to make himself look casual. But Caspian has never been as good at acting as I am and it's impossible to not catch the disappointment in his brown eyes.

I want to tell him that I want to, that I'm sorry. But that the Quarter Quell makes it impossible, that I can't. But he speaks instead.

"So?" he asks, not meeting my gaze. "What do you think?" As if he is asking about the weather.

"Caspian - I -"

Maybe he really is indifferent. Maybe he too is thinking about the Quarter Quell, but not in the way I am. The thought makes the confessions die on the tip of my tongue. I don't know what to say now, if I can even speak. Being at a loss for words is so unusual to me. Just like his lips were to mine. Yet, at the same time, it had seemed so natural.

"Sorry," he says quickly, losing his cool demeanour. "I shouldn't have."

I let out a breath. "It's fine. I understand."

"You do?"

"Of course," I say, trying to swallow my disappointment. "The Games are coming up. You're scared. The adrenaline is making you feel like you have to do...crazy things before it might be too late. It's fine, I get it."

I turn back to my net, trying to ignore the look of sadness and hurt he's attempting to hide. Maybe part of his confusion is because of the bitterness in my voice.

It's confusing me too.

We never speak of it again. Dinner is awkward that night, full of missed glances and meaningless small talk. The next day, it's like nothing ever happened. Then I am reaped, and I tell myself that the moment is gone and will never happen again. That it will just be a lost, meaningless second in history. That if anyone could see into my mind, they would wonder why I spend nights awake, fingers brushing over my lips, remembering exactly where his had been.

A/N: It's New Year's Eve for me, and this is a day late because time does not exist on the holidays. I'm wishing all of you (and myself) a happy New Year and the best of luck for 2022! I'm excited about lots of things coming up, including a few writing projects. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story through comments and votes. If you'd like, let me know what your plans are for ending 2021 and for 2022!