Jeremiah Wolfhart // D5 // FIN

. jeremiah wolfhart ♔ 18 ♔ district 5 .

I was inspired by fairytales.

The first time my innocence was subject to a turning page in a children's book, my attention was had--not from the magical images it concocted, glittering forests and medieval kingdoms, but a certain type of character that made a consistent appearance throughout them all. It wasn't the quirky creatures and fluffy monsters, nor the spell-casting hat-wearers and fluttering orbs of light-bearers. Not even was I particularly interested in the damsels in distress...

They were the princes and the knights--the heroes. Strong and noble leaders and fighters, it was an unspoken wish the past had made to the future:

I want to be like one of them.

And it would eventually become a promise as soon as I could be reaped.

Call me foolish.

Outside the words and the illustrations, it wasn't as black and white as they seemed; no, the world we know was probably the greyest goddamn landscape there ever existed. Striving to become a man of bravery and cloud-covered morals when there's white authority and battles for a bloodstained crown was definitely, to say the least, questionable. You could never be purely one or the other.

It was so easy to hurt someone, that's what we're taught. To see that as a normal thing wasn't anymore comforting. In a reading's end, there were instead rescued lives and happily ever afters, it just goes to show how opposite the directions these two planes run in are.

But if we can still show heart in a fight to the death, achieving this shouldn't be impossible, right? These are just different rules to play by.

So I still try.

It certainly helps to be raised by a quiet family who emphasizes the importance of manners. Mom and dad never want any trouble, they just wanna be the best they possibly could. Their footsteps are mine to follow, an honor gladly taken throughout the years and all the way down to the workplace.

She tends to house and home, he and I take our places under the roof of an oil refinery. He acts as a chemical engineer while I help the security department. There wasn't much to us, we weren't too interesting a name nor noticeable amongst the crowd in District 5...but we were content with that. We had devotion to our responsibilities and to each other, we had warmth radiating off our pulses.

And that was enough.

That was all we needed.

It's when the going gets rough where we part ways. Upholding simplicity, you can distinguish us by the emotions we have when it comes down to it. Dad's got a bit of a temper and when things turn haywire does he leave for some fresh air and walk it off. Mom's skin is sensitive, the tears will start coming and so she locks herself away with food in hand.

As for me?

It's as the saying goes.

Fake it 'till you make it.

That's the way I handle darker hours. It's all I can do.

Became a habit to wear a smile, regardless of the situation. You can spit in my face with the frost from your veins, you can hammer my ego into shards, even knee me in the gut. I know it's not welcome sometimes when I try to reach out to people, but I take the risk anyway. And I keep seeing to it that it's there until a reason comes along for it to be.

I guess that's another way my parents and I walk different roads. They'd rather run and hide, but I'll take you head-on. I won't let myself be shaken, my will shall remain metallic.

It's the quest of my story, anyhow.

Hold the door for the ladies with a nod, a bow and straightened posture to the men. Formal enough language and conversation my core can muster, please and thank you, be there for those who need it. I may look and sound ridiculous, but it's respect. We all deserve it, and so I'll show it.

That goes for the clothes, too.

Sweater vests and button-ups usually suffice, occasionally a tie, but I prefer the real deal. If we could afford it in plenty, it'd be all that's seen behind closet doors.

Cool hands to collar--blue eyes blink through long lashes and I comb golden brown hair before a mirror until the strands stay sculpted in place just like I like them. A suit around a strong frame in trying to fulfill the role I feel destined to play. We were going to dine out with friends that night, dad in a darker tuxedo and mom's dress modest with a line of pearls.

The door was open when she comes by and knocks upon it, me adjusting my cuffs.

"You ready?"

"Almost," I smile.

I still read when there's time to spare.

The themes have matured with me, of course, now rich in complexity and more parallel to our reality. But I plan to keep my promise with the past, so I continue to search for those role models he set for himself within the blocks of ink.

Even though their armor has since been stripped away, or they no longer wear fine robes, their courage remains ablaze. They continue standing out to me all the same. This can also be said for those in the Games, which I began watching with more intent a couple years ago. Glass barriers and raining crimson, yet their eyes repeat fiction.

Our rules are different, that much is for sure. But they, both the fallen and the victorious, they only reinforce my belief in trying to accomplish what young Jeremiah wanted.

"Let's go."

No one should have to go through any of that.

And though we still do, always are they fighting for each other, for the people they've left back home...

...always are they fighting for themselves.

As the three of us leave and start heading down to the restaurant, I pray for the rest of the dead and their loved ones. For the peace of the living.

One thing was clear.

If there was anything we didn't want, it's to be like the true heroes who exist in our universe.

The ones with the tragic endings.