Fluid Heart, Firey Soul (Peeta Mellark x Reader)

Chapter 22 - Awake

"So, Cato and Thresh, huh? I guess it's too much to hope they'll simultaneously destroy each other?" Peeta says.

The thought of it makes me uneasy. I can't imagine facing Cato or Thresh, so maybe it would be better if they killed each other. In another life, under different circumstances, maybe Cato, Thresh, and I would all be friends. I don't want either of them to die, but this isn't something that victors go around saying in the arena. Despite my best efforts, I can feel tears pool in my eyes.

Peeta's face contorts with concern as he looks at me. "What is it? Are you in pain?" he asks, his voice filled with worry. I give him a different answer, one that is equally true and can be interpreted as a brief moment of vulnerability instead of a terminal one. "I want to go home, Peeta," I confess, my voice sounding childish as the words escape my lips.

"Don't worry, you'll be back soon enough," he says, leaning down to give me a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"I want to go home now," I insist.

"Tell you what," Peeta suggests, running his hand through my hair, "you go back to sleep and dream about District 4. And before you know it, you'll be waking up there for real. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, "wake me if you need me to keep watch."

It's evening when Peeta wakes me again. The rain has turned into a fierce downpour, sending streams of water through cracks in the ceiling. Peeta has placed the broth pot under the worst leak and helped me reposition myself to keep the water off. I feel a bit better, and I'm able to sit up without getting too dizzy. I'm famished. So is Peeta. His stomach growls loudly as we inspect what little food is left: two small fish and a handful of berries. It's obvious he's been waiting for me to wake up so we could eat and I can tell he's eager to get started.

"Should we try to ration it?" Peeta asks.

I shake my head. "No, let's just finish it. The fish is already starting to get old and we don't want to risk getting sick off spoiled food," I reply, my stomach grumbling in agreement. Dividing the meal into two equal portions, I count each berry to make sure we have the same number. I push a couple extra into Peeta's pile and hand them off to him. We both try to savor our food, but hunger overpowers any attempt at slow eating. Within a matter of minutes, our portions are gone, leaving me with an unsatisfied ache in my stomach. "Tomorrow's fishing day," I tell him.

"I won't be much help with that," Peeta admits, "I've never fished."

"I'll kill and you cook," I tell him, "and if all else fails, we can always gather some berries."

A wistful smile tugs at Peeta's lips. "It would be nice if there were a bread bush out here," he chuckles.

"Maybe there is," I laugh, "maybe Thresh found it and that's why he looks better fed now than when we started the Games."

"Either that or very generous sponsors," Peeta says, "I wonder what we'd have to do to get Haymitch or Finnick to send us some bread."

A sly smirk crosses my face as I taunt, "well, they probably spent a fortune helping me knock you out."

"Yeah about that," Peeta says, entwining his fingers with mine. His face falls serious.. "Don't ever try something like that again."

"Or what?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.

"Or..." his voice is tinged with frustration as he struggles to find the words, "just give me a minute."

"What's the problem?" I ask, unable to contain my smile.

"The problem is we're both still alive, which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing," Peeta says.

"I did do the right thing," I argue, no longer smiling.