The Capitol buzzed with its usual synthetic excitement, but the arena looming just beyond the horizon felt like a distant storm. Tomorrow, the Games would begin, and the tension hung thick in the air, almost unbearable. Despite the luxurious surroundings, the rooms felt small and suffocating, as though the walls were inching closer by the second.

You stared at the ceiling, the lights dimmed to a soft glow, but sleep wouldn't come. Every time you closed your eyes, the faces of the other tributes flickered in your mind, the weight of the upcoming battle pressing down on you. You tried to steady your breathing, but it was no use.

A soft knock at your door broke the silence, and before you could react, the door creaked open. Peeta stood there, his face tired, eyes shadowed with the same weight of the night.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly, stepping into the room without waiting for permission. His voice was calm, but you could hear the nervous energy in it, the same restlessness that mirrored your own.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. There was a sense of understanding between you, the kind that needed no explanation. This wasn’t just a competition to him. It wasn’t just about survival. There was something more in his eyes—a connection, a bond that felt as fragile as it was strong.

"I thought maybe you wouldn’t be able to sleep either," he added, moving to the window, his silhouette framed by the city lights. “It’s... a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

You nodded, letting out a slow breath. You had been trained for this, prepared for this, but it didn’t change the fact that tomorrow would be a fight to the death. A fight that would strip you of everything human and force you into something else entirely.

"You’re not alone in this," Peeta’s voice broke through the stillness, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. "We have each other."

He brushed a lock of hair from your face, his expression telling you he was just as scared.