i.
She was a sad kind of beautiful in her reaping clothes. Katniss Everdeen was a tribute and a hero before her story had even begun. Her love was honest and her determination blazed brutal and wicked. She was a good person, and your throat felt as if it were filled with cotton.
You were wondering whether or not she would come to regret her decision (because she had to have acted on impulse) when Effie Trinket called your name.
Neither of your brothers moved to volunteer. You didn't expect them to.
ii.
You couldn't help but be on your best behavior when around her. She demanded respect and you tripped over your feet trying to prove your worth to her. She accepted none of it. She didn't trust you.
You weren't offended because you understood, but it didn't help ease the pain.
iii.
You decided that she deserved a chance to return back home and back to her sister. You told Haymitch to split your sessions, and together, you planned.
The words rolled off his tongue like the liquor that sloshed at the bottom of his glass. "You need to soften her up," he drawled. "Make her desirable for the Capitol crowd."
iv.
You pieced together a love story: an unrequited childhood romance removed of all potential growth. The tale came so easily that you thought you might have begun to believe it yourself.
You thought about the story of the Boy with the Bread and the Girl on Fire in the rain.
v.
Katniss was in a tree and you steered the group away from her.
You told them it was all a story and they believed you.
vi.
She was a godsend and her face was your salvation. You thought, for the first time since the start of the games, that you may just have a chance.
vii.
You melted into her touch — even if it were the simple of brush of dirt from a scrape. She gave tailored recounts of her life back home and you let yourself think of what could be if you were both back in twelve, maybe with some money and food waiting on your kitchen counter.
She listened and nodded because she had to.
It left a dark tarnish on your thoughts. You forced yourself to ease into the situation and smile just a bit wider, past the grimace (the pain in your leg is a real bitch) in hope that she'd feel your radiance and smile back.
Her kisses moved you to a different plane of existence.
viii.
You flirted with death. Fuck, you made out with death.
You weren't sure if this was part of a plan or if she was clever enough to kill you off in the sweetest way possible. Oddly soothed, you embraced her proposal.
The berries felt like tar against your fingers and raw grits against your palate.
The seconds dragged into hours before you coughed with bleary eyes, realizing that for the first time in twenty-four years, your district wouldn't completely starve.
When you slipped into unconsciousness, she slammed her fists against the door and her name was the last words on your lips.
ix.
Interviews. Serves One.
Two-parts show, one part genuine.
It's the recipe for your demise.
x.
She was never telling the truth and you were completely aware of the fact because you weren't supposed to be either. You don't know why you were so blindsided and so hurt. You resolved to suck it up because she deserved to be happy.
But even that was selfish, hopeful thinking, because who said she would give a flying fuck about you?
Your words were always your only weapon and you managed to make her frown anyway. Nice work.
xi.
She fell into her sister's arms again, and in the end, your mission was complete.
A/N: Peeta's maybe looking a little ooc? this is basically a "what if Peeta didn't love Katniss from the start?" fic so i think it's more or less warranted, but if it's horribly unsettling, feel free to call me out on it!