Terra doesn't answer.

"I'm sorry," I say, answering myself. "Just... forget I said that."

"Well, I can't forget it, because you fucking said it!" she snaps, then takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't be mad at you. That's not a good reason to be mad."

"It's really not," I respond, annoyed by her anger. 

"You aren't allowed to say that," she says quickly, her tone harsh. "I'm mad at you. I don't got a good reason, but that doesn't matter. You can't agree with me--that's not how it works."

"There's no rules to anger," I say, although my voice is too quiet, and I can't bear to look at Terra. 

"There's rules to everything," Terra counters. "We're tributes, you should know that. Here we are, in this bloodbath free-for-all, and there's still rules."

It takes me a second to answer, as I process. "Okay. Fine, I get it. You hate me, you're mad at me, whatever the fuck you just said--I don't care. Why haven't you killed me yet? I'm right here. You know well enough I'm not a fighter."

She hesitates, and I work up the confidence to look over at her face, glancing away quickly when I see how hard she is thinking about that. I said I don't care, but that's not true. If Terra says that she doesn't know why she hasn't killed me yet either, it will ruin me. 

"I'm not gonna kill you, Daphne," she says, and not only is it not the answer I wanted, it's barely even an answer at all. 

"Why not?" I stand, leaving my makeshift fishing pole abandoned on the beach. We haven't caught anything anyways, that won't matter. My gaze finds Terra again, locking on hers, glowing with confidence that I'm not sure I actually feel. "Why not, Terra? You've got a sword. I'm not going anywhere. Why not bring yourself one step closer to winning? To going back home, safe?"

"Because I can't!" she snaps again. She's still sitting, but her posture is tense, her shoulders squared. 

I suck in a breath. For a moment, we don't speak. 

Surprisingly, Terra is the first to break the silence. "I don't hate you."

I meet her gaze. "That's not an answer."

"It's an answer to your other question. I don't hate you."

"Please, Terra, just say yes or no. You love me or not," I say, my voice shaking slightly, looking off into the distance. I know that this will be a turning point--if Terra says no, if she says that she doesn't love or even just like me back, what reason could she have to keep me alive? And she's not going to say yes.

Terra hesitates. My breath catches in the back of my throat, forming itself into what feels like a tangible lump. 

"Yes, then," she says quietly, and the lump in my throat releases as a sharp exhale of surprise. 

I turn to her, all solemn feelings forgotten. "What?"

Her lips curl up into a slight smile, one I don't think would be visible if I hadn't already spent so much time studying Terra's features. "I want to say no, because I'm mad at you. But I know that this is my last chance, so... yes. Yeah. Sure."

I can't help the smile that's fighting its way onto my face. "You love me."

Terra shakes her head, but the smile on her face is nothing if not happy. "I like you," she corrects, and the slight change does nothing to sadden my demeanor. 

I lay back on the sand, reeling with delight. Terra likes me. 

And yet, the day continues as normal--but with less glares of hatred and more slight, cozy, brushes of arms. I catch a fish, and Terra laughs and praises me for it. We cook it over a fire, not afraid of intruders who probably wouldn't think they'd ever stand a chance against the careers, and have a hearty dinner. 

Once the sun goes down, we lay on the beach and watch the names of our fallen comrades slide across the starry night sky. There are no new deaths we haven't already heard of, seen with our own eyes. Apollo is alive. 

Surprisingly, I find myself thankful for that fact. However narcissistic and annoying Apollo can be at times, he is my District partner. In this huge, lonely arena, he is the closest thing I've got to home. 

I wonder if Terra felt the same way about Orion. Seeing them interact earlier in the Games, I would've thought she was terrified of him, but the look on her face now isn't one of fear--it's more remorse than anything. I don't mention it, but Terra seems to feel like talking. 

"He wasn't always like that, you know," she says softly, her voice barely audible amid the calm sounds of waves lapping on the shore. "I knew him when he was young. He was a sweet boy. But you know, things happen, and people fall apart..." her voice trails off, as if she can't continue. And yet, a few moments later, she does. 

"I mean, no. We didn't fall apart. We were barely even friends, but Orion..." A deep breath. "His parents died when he was maybe about ten. A kid living on the streets doesn't seem like an appealing friend for the daughter of two important public figures. I don't know what happened to him in those years we didn't talk, but he's different now--obviously. That life changed him."

That and growing up, I think, but let Terra keep talking. 

"I honestly don't know what to think," Terra says, and I think this is most truthful she has ever been with me. "He died, and I feel bad. But... he killed people. His friends. And he was going to kill you. I mean, I know I've killed too, but watching someone do it is just different, you know? It doesn't feel... human."

I'm silent, partially because I like listening to her talk and partially because I don't know what to say. A long moment passes. 

"I'm sorry," I say finally, even though it doesn't feel like enough. What are you supposed to tell someone who's been through something like the Hunger Games? 'I can relate?' I can, of course, but it doesn't feel nearly sincere enough.

There is a dark spot settling beneath my ribs that has been there ever since the first time I watched the Games, and in recent days, it has been growing faster than ever. That hole mourns Orion, even when my logical brain tells me that he was a monster, a killer who thought of no one but himself.

The funny thing is, those words don't even apply to Orion. In his last moments, he was selfless. He only came at me because of Vulcan's death. Truly, Vulcan was the selfish one, the one who murdered only for his own gain. 

But then again, Vulcan was insane. The Games changed him, as they do many people. He wasn't good in the first place, but by the time of his death, he was psychotic. 

The spot beneath my ribs aches for Vulcan, for Orion, for Mei, for those who tried and failed to end my life, finding themselves dead instead. 

I ignore it. They don't deserve my remorse. 

happy valentine's day! here's a bit of a sweet little chapter for you guys in honor of the holiday. there's also some character development going on in here, and some orion backstory (probably the most you're gonna get lmao)

hope you enjoyed! love youuu <3