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Your head lies limply on Johanna’s lap, your face expressionless as you stare deeply into nothing in particular. It was just one of those days for you. One day you’d wake up and be completely fine, skipping down the tile to the shops that make up the streets of District 7. The next, the memories would come surging back twice as strong and ferociously crippling as the last. The images of the dead stained under your eyelids; family, friends, even the soldiers you’d hardly taken the time to know during your fight against the Capitol. Some lost to your own hands, but most to Snow. It seemed impossible to think that he couldn’t reach you here, trying your hardest to forget about the Hunger Games and the war and the people you’ve lost. You’ve been trying to enjoy the little things again in this past month, taking a train out to District 7 with your girlfriend after Snow was assassinated, if you could call it that, really. Swarmed by the mob after Katniss’ arrow found Coin’s heart instead.
It happens to Johanna, too, so she gets it. She simply rests one hand in between the strands of your hair, her fingers brushing through the pieces as she fights with her own memories. She never knows quite what to say with these things, how to help. Often she opts for silence. She hasn’t cared for someone like this in so long. But Johanna has come to learn that her touch helps you more than words ever could. The feeling of her hands stroking your hair calms you, sedates that awful feeling that always seems to rise up into your throat like bile. It hasn’t taken long for her to learn how to calm your fears with just one simple touch, even if it’s something that goes unspoken between the two of you. Like a covert oath held together by the most lenient of hands, gentle fingers that have a tendency to care. Johanna’s touch is the type that draws all of the emotion out of you, like a magnet to its opposite end. Her hands absorb your fear and lead your mind to simpler things. A lantern in the dark, the only star in a polluted sky. Your mind wanders as you try to remember what you wanted to say to her.
“Did you know that before Panem, there was this holiday? About love. And you’d buy stuff for them. Like, your lover. It was called Valentine’s Day. Reading about it always made me wish I was alive back then.” you say, your brain reeling back to all those history books you’ve been reading to pass the time. You can almost feel Johanna’s eyebrow raise above you.
“Who wouldn’t? Worrying about stupid shit like that instead of getting reaped for a death match,” Johanna sneers, although the ferocity in her words isn’t directed at you. It never is. She’s always seemed to have a soft spot for you in that way.
“Yeah… it would have been today, you know. February 14th.” you say hesitantly, and your mind wanders back to those pages. The stores with the synthetic white lights overhead that illuminate the rows of heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolate delicacies. You’ve only ever had chocolate in the Captiol because of just how expensive it is. You’ve never been able to wrap your head around the idea of it being sold for so cheap, so common that it was purchased by millions to offer to their lovers. How simple their world seems to you. So different from the Panem you know. The Panem that condones violence, prejudice, the slaughter of children. But that Panem is one of the past now, too. Maybe humankind could return to such a silly holiday that revolves around love and stupid things like chocolate and flowers. Maybe Panem could finally heal after all the damage that was dealt.
Suddenly, you shoot up from Johanna’s lap, an idea forming in your head. Johanna just stares at you expectantly as you attempt to sort your thoughts into comprehendable words. Usually, it’s to no avail, but you need these words to reach Johanna’s ears right now or you’re going to explode.
“We should celebrate! We can both go out into town and get a gift for each other. It doesn’t have to be traditional, or anything too fancy. But I want to get you something. We can just pretend we really did live back then, before Panem. Before any of this.” you say, pushing the words out excitedly at the thought of celebrating anything at all, really. The aftermath of the war has been heavy and overbearing. There hasn’t been much room for fun or excitement or any of the childish feelings receiving a gift entails. This prospect is what has your eyes looking expectantly up at Johanna, on the edge of your seat for a response from her.
“Sounds stupid, but fine. Only because you look like you’re about to throw up.” Johanna decides, rolling her eyes, but you can see the small smile on her lips when she stands up. The excitement fizzes in your stomach as soon as the words leave her mouth. Something to look forward to! Not only that, but you get to give a gift to Johanna in return. This was the best thing that’s happened to you probably since you saw the life leave Snow’s eyes. Your life was filled too much with remorse and grief for your liking; even this small celebration was sure to bring some light back to your world.
Johanna is someone special. The only person left on this earth you’re sure you love. She’s not just anyone to bestow a gift upon, she’s Johanna Mason, for fuck’s sake, so you have to make sure you buy something meaningful. Something that she’s sure to cherish until her dying days. You sling some coins in your pocket and head out the door, heading in the opposite direction as Johanna into town so that you don’t run into each other while buying the gifts. Although, you’re both pretty famous around here so you doubt the shopkeepers will actually charge you for anything. The entirety of the country knew you as survivors of the Hunger Games, so most typically go pretty easy on you and Johanna. Even if their pity makes Johanna want to tear their limbs off one by one.
Your excitement shows by the way your feet bound you out onto the streets, taking quick glances at all of the shops open in the middle of the week. But as you bounce down the tile, you suddenly slow and realize you have no idea what a meaningful gift for Johanna would actually be. Being so soon after the war, chocolate was out of the question. Flowers were too simple; hell, if Johanna wanted flowers, she could have picked some in your yard herself. You think of getting something to aid her hobbies, but she doesn’t have many hobbies really except for cutting wood with an axe, and she’s already got plenty of those.
You begin to feel a bit defeated now as you wander around town, your bag of coins still clutched unused in the palm of your hand. You haven’t known Johanna for too long, but you thought you at least knew her better than this. You almost turn around until your eyes catch on the blacksmith shop.
On the front of the stand hangs an axe that must be completely forged out of metal, the sleek black and silver parts illuminated by the sunlight. It’d be impossible for it not to catch your eye walking down the path, the way that it shines in the very front of the stall. It must be a premium, because you’ve never seen an axe with a steel handle like that before. It’s heavy, sure, but Johanna’s managed to rebuild a lot of the muscle she lost when captured by spending so much time hacking away at firewood. Now that you think about it, the axes she uses must be older than she is because when she comes back home, you always have to fish splinters out of her fingers with your tweezers. As soon as that shiny, new titanium reaches your eyes, your coins are practically already in the blacksmith’s pockets.
No matter how much of your trauma was broadcasted on national television, a weapon like that is going to cost you a fortune. But the blacksmith recognizes you and offers to put something on the handle for free. You watch intently as he carves you and Johanna’s initials onto the handle with a small, neat heart on the end. Just the sight of it makes your lips raise in a smile with pride.
On your way back to Victor’s Village, you pick up a small box for the axe and buy some red ribbon to wrap around it, just for added effect. When you arrive home, Johanna’s already waiting outside for you, a larger, flatter box slung under her arm. She looks a bit bored, but her green eyes catch on you as you approach.
“Sorry. Took me forever.” you mutter through your grin as you walk up to her, already placing your box in her hands. Johanna smiles similarly, her lips a small smirk as the sunlight catches in her eyes. You can see the small flecks of brown in her eyes, a brighter green in the light than typical. Her hair has grown back curlier than before, the wavy strands ending just below her ears. You miss the red streaks in her hair. You wonder if she will dye them again once hair dye begins to be produced and sold again.
When Johanna takes the box from your hands, it’s almost like she can recognize the weight of an axe instantly. Growing up in District 7 will do that. “Nothing light, huh?” she grins, her eyebrows raising a bit knowingly as she tostles the box around a bit, hearing the metal slosh against the cardboard of the box. You can’t help but think she looks beautiful like that, with the sun dappled over her skin. You watch her almost distractedly until she hands you the box she had kept under her arm.
“Here, before I open mine.” Johanna says, her smirk widening just a bit as she looks at you intently. You smile back up at her as you take the box from her hands. It’s quite flat and almost weightless. You nearly drop it from expecting something heavier. You look up at her in question, and she just tells you to open it again. You roll your eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave your face as you gently take the top off of the box.
Your brows furrow in confusion as you slowly take your hand to touch the fabric in the box. It’s a piece of clothing. You gently unfold it, letting the box fall to the floor. It’s a dress, originally white, but cream around the edges with age. But it’s clear it’s well cared for, not a single stitch missing or a piece of lace misplaced. It’s beautiful. You nearly gape your mouth in shock as you run your fingers along the white satin, the pattern forming small flowers, and it feels silky smooth beneath your touch. Your eyes raise back to Johanna, the emotion clear in your gaze as she looks back at you with pride in her small smirk.
“I looked into one of your history books. White for weddings, right?”