Fluid Heart, Firey Soul (Peeta Mellark x Reader)

Chapter 6 - The Rooftop

With a soft beep, Fletcher pushes the button and the elevator glides smoothly upward. As we rise, I turn to look behind me and notice the dimness of the late hour blanketing the city. It's well past ten, and the entire facility is likely settled in slumber, everyone preparing for the early wake-up call of our first training session. The reality of our situation hits me anew, a surreal awareness that this is actually happening. The anticipation and fear twist together in my stomach, making it hard to swallow. I can't imagine what must be going through Fletcher's mind right now. After all, he was the one who volunteered for the Games, a choice that defies comprehension.

Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I pose the question that has been lingering in my mind. "Why did you volunteer for the Games?" The words slip out before I can second-guess their impact.

Fletcher's reaction is subtle but unmistakable. His eyes twitch imperceptibly, a brief display of emotion before he falls into an unsettling silence. I immediately regret bringing up such a sensitive topic and mentally chastise myself for being so tactless.

"Never mind, sorry," I murmur softly, an apology tinged with a hint of guilt. It's not my place to pry into his past, especially at a time like this.

But then, in a moment of raw vulnerability, Fletcher begins to speak, his voice wavering slightly. "When Eddy was sent to the arena, I was terrified. He volunteered so that I wouldn't have to face this fate," he begins, his tone heavy with honesty and emotion. "He wanted me to be safe from the Games. And I watched him on the television, I held onto the hope that he would come back home. But when it came down to the final three, he was killed by a boy from District Twelve."

A heavy silence settles between us as Fletcher relives the loss of his brother. After a few moments, he begins to speak again. "I watched him die and I felt so helpless. Eddy was more than my brother, he was my best friend. And when he was gone, I didn't know how I could possibly go on without him. I would love to win this game for him, but if I don't... well, at least I'll get to see him again."

As Fletcher stands before me, his composure a mixture of endurance and inner turmoil, I'm struck with a pang of regret. I hadn't taken the time to consider his emotions before judging him for his actions. "I'm sorry," I apologize, feeling guilty for my lack of empathy. "I didn't even think to consider how much that affected you."

His response is measured, a small nod that held more weight than words could. His eyes flicker with emotions, his lips pressing into a thin line as if to hold back the flood of thoughts and feelings threatening to overwhelm him. With a deep breath, he turns to face the elevator door, his slight shift hinting at the vulnerability he had just revealed. "We made it to the penthouse," he announces softly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. There's a flicker of relief in seeing that smile, a glimmer of reassurance that maybe our conversation hadn't weighed too heavily on him.

Fletcher pokes his head out of the elevator, scanning the halls for any signs of potential interference. He gives another nod, one that I'm assuming means that the coast is clear, before he ventures further, beckoning me to follow suit. My heart is racing with excitement as I step out into forbidden territory; there's a certain thrill to breaking the rules, a sense of rebellion that feels intoxicating. We move stealthily and silently, our footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floor, toward the door of the District 12 penthouse. I reach for the door handle but the handle doesn't move. "What now?" I whisper, jiggling the locked door. Without missing a beat, Fletcher produces a bobby pin from his back pocket.

"Where did you—"

"I stole it from your room," Fletcher says, an amused smile playing on his lips. I can't help but stifle a laugh. It was an audacious act, stealing from me, but it feels strangely fitting for this moment. I don't bother questioning when he snuck into my room, instead watching Fletcher manipulate the pin, working at the lock with ease. I wonder when he learned how to do this. And why.