Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

Train Rides

Sorry that this is a such a late update, and I apologize in advance for this chapter, since it's not really close to the actual writing of the book. I can't remember what exactly happens--such as exact dialogue, clothing, when certain characters come into play, decorations-- in the book and I don't have a copy of it right now so things that are really close to the series will probably be based off the movie. Not entirely sure though. 

Despite my terrible job of writing it closely to the actual book and/or novel, fingers crossed it's a good chapter! Enjoy!

After your good-byes, everything is a blur. Before you know it, you're onboard the tribute's train, sporting a one-way ticket to the Capitol. As much as you would like to forget it, there's no way you can; your surroundings are hell bent on reminding you exactly where you're heading.

The train is posh, the picture of the Capitol's lifestyle. Comfy looking, plush seats beckon your aching limbs, but the food is what catches and holds your attention. There's probably more food on that one table than you, Katniss, and Gale have eaten the entire year. Five different appetizers, three different bubbly drinks, and probably a dozen different kinds of expensive deserts are spread out across the table. However tempting it may be, you practically vomit at the thought of ingesting that much rich food.

Effie motions for you and Peeta to sit down and await the arrival of your mentor. Just the thought of it makes you role your eyes. You know who your mentor is, and he's hardly responsible or understanding. The likelihood of him getting either of you out of the arena alive was slim to none.

Lost in thought, you barely notice Peeta's attempts to start a conversation. Eventually his voice breaks through your irritated, muddled thoughts. "It's Y/n, right?"

You glance at him in surprise. The two of you have rarely, if ever, interacted directly or personally. Yet he knows who you are. You nod slowly. "I didn't know you knew my name."

"Of course, I know your name. You and Katniss always bring me those perfectly shot rabbits and squirrels," he paused, "Do you... know who I am?"

Your eyes narrow involuntarily. Do I know you, bread boy? Of course I know who you are. Your parents' bakery services most of District 12. And how could I forget? You saved my best friend's life once. And now I'm going to be forced into an arena with you to fight to the death.

Shaking off your inner rant, you answer, "Yeah, you're Peeta. The baker's son. Your bread's delicious."

Peeta laughs just a bit, but it fades away quickly. "That was really brave. What you did," he says suddenly.

You turn to him, eyes wide in surprise, and try to think of a decent response. Like it or not, you're going to be stuck with this boy for the next few weeks—maybe until you die. Proceed with caution. "I couldn't watch either of them go into the Games. I was just protecting them. It was reflex, I guess."

"Good, you'll need a lot of that."

You spin around and come face to face with your mentor. Haymitch Abernathy—District 12's resident Victor and professional drunk. He stumbles into the train car, hair falling in his eyes, drink sloshing out of its glass. You wrinkle your nose and suppress a groan as the smell of alcohol smacks you in the face. Great. He can't even show up sober once?

You brush your hands off on your pants awkwardly. "So, when do we start?"

"Whoa, a bit eager there, aren't we?" Haymitch laughs, hiccupping, as if this is just as amusing to him as it is to the Capitol.