finally, it was over. the hunger games were over. they had let you win, together. of course, your are sure they weren't happy about it, but there was no fight against you to. the capitol people must've loved you both too much.

you tried to remember what had happened after being picked up off the ground, before ending up in some hospital bed. nothing here to stop you, yet the walls felt small, caving in on you. and the moment that fucking doctor came in, to the next moment you watched cato fight and pull against doctors while they pulled him back to god knows where, your heart began beating faster, and faster, and faster.

you had hid in the corner while the docter tried to soothe you, but gave up and walked out defeatedly. the words, in the areana, still running in your head, not safe. it reminded you. not long after, the door opened, exposing a familiar face. cato.

he too was in some kind of doctor's gown, however, he was much calmer. the doctor stood behind him, seemed to have had escorted him here. he walked over, before crouching onto his toes, taking your hands in his before settling back on his butt, humming a soft song.

"it's okay," he murmured, his thumb rubbing across your once smooth skin. now it was labeled scars of your days in the arena. "it's over, we'll be in victor village soon." he soothed. "those docs are only making sure you're alright." he informed quickly with a glance toward the door, which was once again closed.

"how is your leg, hm?" he asked, taking a glance down a large, pale cut over you shin. running his finger over it.