An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Dear Little Brother,
If you’re reading this letter then that means Katniss made it home instead of me. I just want you to know that’s ok. I mean, it kinda sucks for me, but that doesn't matter really at this point. What does matter is that her winning doesn’t have to suck for you. Not for long anyway. You can grieve for a year, and let me go. Be sad if you want, until the next reaping. And if you’re not chosen, then have to stop moping. Because if she’s alive and you’re not going into the Games, then you still have a chance to keep your promise to me. You still have a chance to be happy.
I mean it, Peeta. You deserve to be happy. I know you would never wish for me to die. But shit happens, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do. Just because you’re all sensitive and in touch with your emotions and crap doesn’t mean you can’t go after what you really want. And I know you want Everdeen. You have since before you could tie your shoelaces properly. That’s ok. You’ve always been the one to take after dad the most. But don’t follow in his footsteps. Don’t let your opportunity pass you by. And for the love of God, don’t fucking settle. Especially not to make mom happy. If you want to marry a wild Seam girl and have a dozen brown barefoot babies then just do it man. You deserve the life you want. You probably deserve it more than anyone.
BE HAPPY. I don’t care how you do it, or how long it takes, or even how much happiness you find. Just find a way to do it okay?
Love you and all that crap,
-Lev.