Real or Not Real?

Chapter 5

The extremely momentary relief I had at not hearing Gale's name quickly vanished. My heart started pounding and my palms and upper lip began to sweat.

This isn't the worst thing that could have happened. I think. It's a solid second to worst. Oh god. The odds have definitely not been in my favor today.

I look at Peeta, who's pale and flustered, as he makes his way to the stage. The boy I've loved for years may be the literal death of me. How wonderful. I know I was being selfish thinking about crushes as a moment like this, but I couldn't help it. 

He finally steps on stage and makes eye contact with me, which I quickly dodge. I can't stand to look at him. What if he's plotting my murder at this very moment? No. He wouldn't. We may not have talked much, but I know that he is kindhearted. In fact, I'd be surprised if he killed anyone at all.

As Effie asks for volunteers, I force myself to take a quick look at Peeta. Is gorgeous, soft blond curls hang over his worried face. He's trying hard to stay composed, but his ocean blue eyes are raging with a sea of fear. I was to grab his hand, hug him, something. I need him to know that I'm going to be right by his side. But instead, I look away and stare at my worn-out shoes while the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason as he does every year.

Why is this happening? Why me? Why him? These questions repeatedly enter my mind. About halfway through the reading of the treaty, I try to divert my thoughts to something else. Of course, my mind goes to the first time I talked Peeta, which just adds to my sorrows. Still, it feels like an improvement.

I was ten years old, my father just died in the mine accident. We were all together mourning his death at home, when suddenly, this overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed me. I wasn't in a smaller space than usual, and yet I felt like I had just been buried alive. I needed to catch my breath, to be alone. I bolted through the front door, ignoring my name being yelled by my brothers and my mother. The wind against my face dried my tears and entered my lungs. This felt good. Well, as close to good as you can get considering the circumstances. I continued running until I reached the square. It wasn't crowded, but there were still quite a few people walking and conversing. The claustrophobic feeling came over me again, only this time I couldn't overcome it. 

I sat down of the floor, right in front of the bakers. I brought my knees up to my chest and cried into my (Y/H/L), (Y/H/C) hair. I sat there and sobbed for what felt like an eternity. I was dehydrated, hungry, tired, and out of breath. Suddenly, I hear the door of the bakers open. I bring myself to lift my head and see who it is. Beautiful blue eyes peek out and look at me. The gentleness in his stare sent a wave of calm through me, it soothed me. I had seen Peeta around before, at school and such. I always thought of him as good looking, but nothing more than that. We maintain eye contact for a for a few moments until he broke it. He looked behind him, into the bakery, with a questioning look. He turned to me once more before disappearing inside again. I let out a loud sigh as I began to get up. As soon as I stood on my feet, yelling from inside the bakery startled me. I jumped as Peeta ran back out, holding a small bag. When he ran past me, he grabbed my hand and pulled me with him.

"Hey!" I shout. I run with him, but mostly because I'm so shocked about what just happened. I think it was his mom yelling at him. What did he do? Why is he taking me with him? What's in that bag? Where the heck are we going? I had so many questions, but I finally manage to get a simple one out. "What are you doing?!" 

As Peeta runs around people and guides me out of the square, he finally answers. "You'll see, just run." Surprisingly, he pairs his response with a chuckle and a large smile. That didn't answer anything. But before I had time to ask another question, he stops. We were just out of the square and behind a building. He let go of my hand and plopped down next to a tree, gesturing for me to sit next to him. I hesitate, but eventually I sit next to him awkwardly. We take a moment to catch our breath before Peeta speaks.

"I can't stay long, but I saw you outside our shop." Any smile he had at our short adventure vanished. He runs his hand along the grass as he continues, "My dad told me what happened... I'm really, really sorry." He looks up at me innocently, almost like a puppy dog. 

I want to cry, but I don't think I have any tears left in me. So, I just nod.

"Here." Peeta hands me the bag that he's been holding. "I don't know if you like them, but I needed to give you something." He sighed, "I've got to get back. My mom is really mad. But I hope you like them." He smiles once more and disappears around the building. I quickly fumble around trying to open the bag. Inside was one perfect chocolate chip cookie, something I've never had the luxury of trying. 

I thought I didn't have any more tears, but Peeta's sweet gesture was able to squeeze a few more out of me. That was when I knew I loved him. From then on, I was too nervous to talk to him again. We crossed paths often, but I did everything I could to avoid him. But I will never forget Peeta and the kindness he showed me. Maybe before we die, I can work up the courage to thank him. Or maybe it will just be implied if I don't try to kill him.

I'm snapped back into reality by the mayor whispering my name.

"(Y/N), shake hands." He says.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

I take a deep breath and turn to Peeta. Our eyes meet first, then I feel his hand. Stong, yet surprisingly soft. Much bigger than the last time our hand met. He gave me what I think was reassuring squeeze. I returned his gesture with a smile as I felt my cheeks heat up.

Not the time for blushing (Y/N). Now everyone is going to see you has a silly girl with a crush. Bad timing.

We turn to face the crowd once more and the Anthem of Panem begins to play. At that very moment, I decided something. A rush of determination filled me and chased every ounce of fear away. 

Peeta is coming home. He will survive. He will be victor. He will live happily ever after. I'm going to make sure of it.

And that is my dying wish.