Jason Todd remembered the Games like they had been yesterday.

He remembered being reaped on a sunny day with no clouds to hide away the blue sky. For a day so morbid, District Five had been unusually beautiful.

He remembered his childhood friend being reaped that day, too. Part of him had thought, at least I won't die alone, but that had been cruel; you didn't deserve that, you had done nothing wrong. Instead he vowed to keep going, just so he could die without you to mourn him.

He doesn't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, he had fallen in love with you.

Kind of stupid of him, he had thought when ten of the twenty-four tributes died the first night. Very stupid of him, he had realized when both of you had almost died to a Career, and he had to patch you up without the proper supplies as the rain poured down. Extremely stupid, he had known when you were the last two standing.

For what it's worth, Jason had tried to kill himself so you wouldn't have to die. You had tackled him and wrestled the knife out of his hands before he even had the chance to. It was jarring, really— he had never seen you cry like that.

And for what it's worth, he had tried to figure out a better plan. But you had handed him a nightlock berry and kept one for yourself, and he hadn't managed to come up with anything else.

He doesn't know what happened— time had been nothing but an illusion ever since the reaping, but it was getting slightly out of hand— but now he stood by your side, pretending to be your star-crossed lover, on a Victory Tour across Panem's twelve districts. He made sure not to be too genuine in the way he looked at you; just enough to fool those he wanted to keep at bay.

(He wondered if you knew he wished it wasn't all pretend. He wondered if your affection was hidden with the same sincerity as his.)

"Careful," he grunted as you wove through the crowd at the banquet held in Capitol. He scrunched his nose at the people attending, eyebrows knitting together with distaste. "I hate this so much."