Nervousness, fleeting panic attacks, and waking up in the dead of night, overwhelmed by the crushing weight of what was to come—these were things that happened all too often. At times, distinguishing reality from your nightmares felt harder than it should have.

Warm arms wrapped around you from behind, as he had every night since your name was called and you were torn from your family for the Games.

A breath, warm and familiar, brushed your neck, and his arms settled against your hips, an almost automatic gesture. A tired sigh escaped his lips.

"Are you still awake?" he asked softly, careful not to disturb you if you had managed to fall asleep, until he felt the gentle press of your head against his chest.

Tobias knew your nightmares—the things that robbed you of sleep, the haunting thoughts that tortured you in your solitude—and he helped you fight them. He fought them for you. He had become your refuge, not just your mentor.

"I wish I could take your place," he confessed with quiet resolve. His forehead pressed against your back, as if memorizing the feel of you, your scent, your skin against his. "I wish things were different."