Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Suzanne Collins. The plots are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

This applies to all drabbles included in this collection. Okay, so I know drabbles are supposedly stories of 100 words, but I don't know what else to call these, so let's go with drabbles. Spiralling Dillusions is a collection of my "drabbles" or shortshortshort stories (one-shots) that are in no way related to each other, unless I say so.

Title: Real

Character/s: Katniss/Peeta

Genre: General/Angst

Time Frame: Post-Mockingjay/Pre-Epilogue

From across the table, Haymitch stares at me.

I don't know why he is staring at me, or why I stare back, but I just do.

He holds my gaze as he twirls and empty bottle in his hands. It's like we're sharing a private joke - but we aren't. It's the first time I feel amusement since Prim had gone.

The amusement doesn't last long because suddenly, Peeta pushes his food and crashes onto the floor. I push my chair back and rush forward to help him but he crawls away from me.

He curls up a few feet away from me, in the corner of the room. I walk across the room and slowly sit down next to him. I feel him shiver beside me. Then he holds on to his shirt and crumples it in anger. His eyes widen as he rocks his body back and forth.

I hold on to his hand.

I don't bother trying to sprout soothing words because I know it won't get through him. Lies won't get through him. I don't say, "It's gonna be alright," because I know it won't. I just sit there in silence.

The shivering intensifies.

I don't squeeze his hands because it might just frighten him. After all, I am most likely the antagonist in his current fit. So I wait.

When the shivering stops, his hand loosens its grip, and his eyes return to their normal size; he turns to look at me and states, "I tried to kill you."

When I have no reply, he asks, "Real or not real?"

After a few seconds, Peeta repeats the question in frustration. It takes me a while before I reply, "Real."

This doesn't calm him down. He pulls away and hugs his knees. Then the pattern repeats itself. From crawling and crumpling to shivering and rocking, it takes me twelve whole minutes to him calm down again.

From across the room, Haymitch stares at me.

This time, I don't stare back.

There will be other pairings like Annie/Finnick, etc.