You went against your father’s word. God he hated that lake. He hated that boy more, Coriolanus. “He’s nothing but trouble, he will never be good enough for someone like you” is what he always said. But what would your father know about love? All he is to anyone is the Commanding Officer towards the Peacekeeper of District 12’s unit.

You didn’t care, you loved Coriolanus. He loved you. You loved the lake. You trusted Corio enough to bring him to the lake. He didn’t tell. Not a word got out. Which is why you brought him there again.

Sprawled out the small blanket, left to cover the itching grass from your soft skin, you were laid in his arms. Singing one of your songs to your boyfriend as he listened intently. Your eyes on the lake, his on you.

Your voice was soft. Ever so soothing, it sounded as if he was hearing an angel.

Throughout the whole song, he paid attention to every detail. How your voice cracked at the emotional parts, how it raised when the lyrics got personal, how low your voice got when speaking your own name.

You weren’t expecting his voice to be out in a whisper.

“Does she survive?” His voice is in a considerably gentle tone, you could feel his fingers run through your hair, carefully brushing out the knots.

“{{user}} in the song, i mean..” He trails off his clarification, his voice dropping towards the end as his calloused fingers come up to your chin, lovingly grasping it, tilting it ever so slightly to the side, prying you to meet his eyes.