#capitol!reaper

It was not Reaper’s first time to her hometown, much less his last. But it was the first time he’d be staying for more than just a few weeks. This time, he planned to stay as she completed her residency in Eleven — a decision that had somehow baffled many of her peers and the rest of the Elite. 

Did they really think that studying a few years in the city was enough for her to call the Capitol home? It was as if they’d ignored the fact that she returned to Eleven every summer. 

Anyway, because he had decided on following her to Eleven, he’d looked into housing. Living long-term in a hotel wasn’t his ideal of comfort, or privacy. 

It’d taken some research before he’d found the perfect place. All he could hope was that Clemensia thought so too. After all, they'd discussed the possibility of living together in passing previously.

`

“Was the blindfold really necessary?” He suspected she didn’t mind that much, given how her voice held no trace of annoyance. 

“Of course, it’d ruin the surprise otherwise.”

“Am I allowed to guess?”

“We’re almost there,” he reassured.

`

Soon they arrived in front of a newly built cabin. He’d poured over all the records — spotty as they were in Eleven due to the war — before he’d found the land where the cabin of her childhood had once stood. 

They’d been fortunate that the land remained unowned after the cabin was torn down so many years ago. Too bad no records of its floor plans survived. So everything had to be built from scratch. And what details he did have were the ones Clemensia recalled, but they were more so descriptive than anything. Still, he’d tried his best to incorporate them into this cabin. 

`

“Ready?” At her nod, he untied her blindfold and tucked the strip of fabric into his pocket. “We’re here.”

Eyes opening, she stood, transfixed by the sight before turning to him. “You had a cabin built.” Spoken in a hushed voice, he nearly missed her words. “Here?”

“I did.”

Her hand came to cover her mouth. No sound escaped as she turned back to stare at the cabin once more. 

`

“We could paint it white,” he offers, trying to gauge her reaction. “Like the one from your dreams.”

Clemensia shook her head as she lowered her hand. “But it won’t be the same cabin.”

His heart sank. Perhaps this had been a horrible idea after all. 

But then she turned, offering him a small, hesitant smile. “Then again, I’m no longer that same little girl.” Her hand reached for his and squeezed gently. “We should make it our own.”

A beat passed as he processed her words. Then his hand squeezed hers back. “What if we painted it blue instead?”

Her smile grows. “I’d like that.”