[A/N] The last scene in The Hunger Games. I rewrote it, since it was too… "tough" for me. I made it softer? LOL. I never mentioned a train in here. :P
"So all the things you said at the Games... that was for the audience?"
"Not all of it," I whispered. I blinked, and I was a bit surprised to find that tears came out. "Peeta..." But then, I was so overcome with emotion, I dropped to my knees and started to cry. So much for keeping feelings to myself.
"Katniss! Are you ok?" Though Peeta truly sounded sympathetic, there was no mistaking the pain in his voice.
By breathing hitched and broke. "Yes." No. I wasn't. Honestly, I felt horrible. I told Peeta the true, kind of sickish reasons for how I acted during the Games, and, though he probably knew it, I was losing him. No words could ever express how sorry I was.
Peeta helped me to my feet. I was still crying, but the tears now streaked down my face, and I was silent. I put my head in the crook of his shoulder, and was half expecting him to shake it off. He didn't, but I did feel a slight twitch. Ha. And I thought he was abandoning me. "How sick," I muttered.
We walked silently back to the train, and went our separate ways to our rooms. I couldn't help but notice how sad Peeta looked.
Ha. Because of me.
The next day, I headed toward the bathroom. In the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot. Not from tiredness, but from crying. a fresh wave of tears came to me right before I went to sleep, in a way, it actually was from tiredness. When Effie called us for breakfast, my eyes were just a bit pink now. Peeta had seen better. He looked... tired. His skin was paler, dark circles under his eyes. At least no bags. Yet. He even did things more slowly.
I wanted to punch myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID truth. Just at the most appropriate time.
It wasn't until Effie gestured to my untouched food that I came out of my reverie. Everyone had had a bit of theirs already. Effie was looking at me funny, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Cinna and Portia appeared to know slightly of what was going on, based on what Peeta and I looked like. Haymitch knew better. He gave me a sympathetic smile. But nothing could bring back my former happiness.
The boy with the bread was slipping away from me. It was all too, too late.