Chapter Text
The question came out of nowhere: “Have you ever been to the slag heap?”
Until that moment, they had been lying together in silence, trying (and failing) to let the steady rocking of the train lull them to sleep. When she asked it, he could feel her hand tightly grip his t-shirt, and the gesture — accompanied by the question — confused him.
“Of course I’ve been to the slag heap. Multiple, in fact,” Peeta said. “Believe it or not, I did grow up in District 12, too.”
The slag heaps near abandoned entrances to the mine had always been popular with the teenagers of the district. They were tucked away from the prying eyes of town and Seam adults alike, making them one of the only places that teenagers wanted to hang out. Which in District 12 meant getting drunk off of cheap moonshine and hooking up with anyone who might say yes. Peeta had gone to a couple parties with his older brothers or when his friends dragged him along, but he hadn’t been since returning from the Capitol. He’d lost whatever appetite he’d had for teenage revelry after the arena. Couldn’t stand the sympathetic but wary looks snuck his way, the fragile manner they treated him, the occasional attempts to see if he was truly as smitten with Katniss as he’d said in his Games interviews.
She lifted her head from where it was on Peeta’s chest, and in the gleam of the moonlight, he could see that she was annoyed with him. His eyebrows furrowed further when Katniss moved away from Peeta and removed his hand from her waist. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she sighed, her tone indicating the exact opposite.
Peeta didn’t believe her — Katniss had never been good at lying — and he told her as much. She glared at him but remained silent, refusing to reveal anything about her sudden change in mood. “Did you ever go to those things?” Peeta asked. “With… your friends?”
Katniss scoffed. “No!” she said with a harrumph, unbelievably offended he could ask her such a thing. “I was too busy trying to put food on the table to go… to go kiss a bunch of idiots!”
Her statement only served to confuse Peeta more. “There was some kissing, sure, but there were other things to do there.”
“Oh, yeah, instead of sticking your tongue down someone’s throat, how fun it must have been to stick your hand up some random girl’s shirt,” Katniss retorted with an eye roll.
“Katniss, what are you talkin’ about?” Peeta asked as he sat up. “I didn’t stick my hand up anyone’s shirt. Who even told you that?”
“You did, just now! ‘Of course, I’ve been to the slap heap,’” she exclaimed in a mocking tone. “‘Multiple, in fact.’”
“First of all, I don’t sound like that. Second, you asked if I’ve been to one, and I said yes because that’s where my friends hung out.”
Katniss’ eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know that. How was I supposed to know you were askin’ about other girls with ‘have you ever been to the slag heap’?” The question made Peeta wonder something else. “And why do you care if I’ve been with other girls or not?”
“I–I don’t!” she sputtered. Katniss scrambled out of the bed and furiously stuffed her feet into her shoes — as furiously as one could put on slippers — before stomping out of the room.
Peeta’s mouth hung open as he stared at the door she had just left through. “This is your room!” he called out to the air.
The next morning, Peeta and Effie sat in companionable silence at they ate together. Haymitch rarely made an appearance at breakfast, but Katniss had started showing up on time once she and Peeta had started sharing a bed. “Where are they?” Effie tittered nervously. “We have to go over the schedule for when we reach 6.”
Peeta knew better than to say they wouldn’t reach District 6 until the next morning. Instead he brought up her normal rehash of the previous District’s stop. “We could start with that, then they’ll be here for the schedule,” he suggested.
“They have to be here for that, too, Peeta,” Effie replied with a sigh. She looked at him and gave a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for trying to fix things, though, dear.”
Peeta’s smile in response was strained. Something about Effie’s sentiment settled uneasily with him, but he couldn’t figure what. Before he could respond, one of the dining room doors opened, and Katniss trudged in. She, quite frankly, looked awful — like she had fought a couch to sleep on it and lost. Effie did her best to remain calm, but a small squeak at the sight of Katniss’ disheveled appearance came out of her mouth.
Katniss glared at her, obviously displeased, but this meant she was now at an impasse. She could either sit next to Effie, who was looking at her like she was mangy cat, or she could sit next to Peeta, who had… Peeta still didn’t understand what he had done wrong last night. He was hoping to figure it out today and apologize. Katniss stood there staring at the two of them as she tried to make a decision, and Effie was just about to tell her to sit down and stop being rude when the other door opened and Haymitch stumbled in.
He wasn’t drunk, but he was definitely hungover, and he practically collapsed into his regular seat next to Effie. Their escort wrinkled her nose at the smell of their mentor and delicately scooched her chair further away from him. Peeta couldn’t tell if Katniss was relieved at not having to make a choice or peeved that she waited too long and now had to sit next to him.
“Katniss, Katniss, please sit,” Effie implored. “We are already behind schedule for today because of you two.”
“Today’s a travel day,” Katniss said as she reluctantly took her seat.
Effie waved away the statement and replied, “That doesn’t mean it isn’t a big, big day. You’re already going to be late for your session with your prep team because we still have to go over our time in 7 and our schedule for 6!”
Katniss scowled at the mention of her having to get poked and prodded by Flavius, Venia, and Octavia, but wisely kept quiet as Effie launched into her recap of the District 7 Victory Tour stop. When he was sure that their escort was engrossed in her speech, Peeta leaned over to Katniss and whispered, “Can we talk? After this?”
She stared resolutely at her scrambled eggs and said, “I have to go meet with my prep team.” As if that was the only thing standing in the way of them talking.
“After that then,” Peeta responded. “Please? It’s important.”
Only then did Katniss look up from her plate and make eye contact. She stared at him for a couple moments, and she must have been convinced by what was in his eyes because she relented and said, “Okay.”
“Katniss? Peeta?” Effie’s voice cut through the hazy air between the two, and their heads whipped to face their escort. “Honestly, you two, do you not care one bit about how this Tour goes? And don’t think that your little… nightly escapades have gone unnoticed by the team and crew; I’ve been meaning to have a very serious chat with you two about that.” She threw her hands up in exasperation as she caught a look at Haymitch beside her — asleep in a pool of drool. “You three will be the death of me,” she squeaked as she got up from her seat and strutted away.
Katniss and Peeta’s eyes met after the door closed, and they both smiled wide at Effie’s little conniption. “Poor Effie,” Katniss quipped as she stole Effie’s pot of clotted cream and began to scoop some onto her eggs. She began mixing the cream into the scramble and continued, “At the rate she’s goin’, she’ll have a heart attack before we get to District 1.”
Peeta stared at her as she resumed eating her eggs and felt completely unsteady despite being seated quite firmly in a chair. “I bet we can force one before District 4.”
She snorted in a very unladylike manner at the statement and had to stop from spitting the eggs out of her mouth. Peeta couldn’t figure out what to make of the cryptic way she stared at him. Certain emotions would pass by quickly before she smoothed her face back into neutrality. After she finished scarfing down the rest of her eggs, Katniss stood up and offered a hand to Peeta. “Come on, let’s talk.”
They walked in silence to the sitting room car they would all watch television recaps of their visits in. Katniss took a seat on the edge of the plush couch and crossed her arms. “So? What’s up?”
Peeta didn’t know if he was allowed to sit next to Katniss or if she was still mad at him. He took a deep breath and began, “About last night: I’m sorry for… what I said. I never wanted to offend you.”
Whatever reaction he had hoped from Katniss, an eye roll and grunt was not one of them. “You don’t mean that,” she said.
“What?” Peeta sputtered. “I do too mean that!”
“No, you don’t. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”
“What do you mean?” Peeta hadn’t known that being friends with Katniss would be so confusing.
She sighed and put her face in her hands. After several seconds, Peeta took a seat next to her and gingerly placed a hand on Katniss and softly scratched her back. “I think,” she murmured, “I have to be the one to apologize to you.”
“What for?” Peeta asked.
“I… snapped at you for no reason last night.” She sat up and made a move to get closer to Peeta but ultimately decided against it. “I can’t get mad at you for kissing other girls.”
Wait, what? “Wait, what?”
Katniss furrowed her brows as she sunk into the couch. “Please, Peeta. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
But he wasn’t pretending. Sometimes Peeta thought it would just be easier if he didn’t try to figure out Katniss Everdeen. Sometimes he felt that Katniss was still trying to figure herself out too. He turned to her and tried to look as genuine as possible. “I promise you, I don’t. Please just explain it to me.”
She looked at him warily but eventually relented. “I asked about the slag heap because I wanted to know… what you did at the slag heap.” Katniss brought her knees up on the couch for her chin to rest on before continuing, “But then when you said you’d been, I got–I got mad at you, but we’re friends, and that’s not fair.”
It wasn’t fair. She was the one who had said most of their Games had been an act. She was the one who kept secrets from him about presidents visiting and threatening their families. She was the one who had someone else to kiss. And to make things worse, Peeta had never done any of the things she’d thought he’d done at the slag heap. Peeta’s first kiss was when — in an effort to get over his futile crush on Katniss — he bashfully gave the girl whose family ran the general store a peck behind her house. His second was when his friend Delly Cartwright was freaking out about turning 15 without having kissed someone, and he agreed to help her get it out of the way. And that one barely counted because it was like kissing his sister. They had both felt as gross as that sounded.
Regardless, Katniss’ admission made Peeta feel terribly awkward. What did friends even do in this situation? “Well, not that it’s any of your business — and not that it should matter — but I only ever talked to my friends at those things before heading home early.”
“You’re right,” she agreed, looking somewhat contrite. “It’s none of my business.” Peeta fell back against the couch like she had and loudly exhaled. They sat together in a soft sort of silence, both of them unsure how to proceed from here. “I’ve never been, you know,” Katniss said after a few minutes. “You asked last night. I’ve never been.”
Peeta first bitterly thought it was because the woods would have offered plenty of privacy for all sorts of kisses, but then he immediately felt ashamed for thinking so poorly of Katniss. Her love life was also none of his business. But what she said when they were in District 11 came back to him: that Gale had only kissed her once. “Katniss,” Peeta began, “who was your first kiss?”
She narrowed her eyes at him and asked, “Why do you want to know?”
It’s none of your business. The words hung heavy in the air. “Just humor me,” he told her. “I kissed Isla Potting after I walked her home from school one day and then I ran home and never spoke to her again.”
The story made Katniss laugh, and she visibly relaxed a bit. “That’s terrible, Peeta. Please tell me you were seven or something.”
“I was 13,” he said as his cheeks reddened.
She laughed some more. “Oh, man,” she said as she looked lighter than she had in weeks. “That is hilarious.”
“Yeah, yeah, make fun of me all you want.” Peeta tried to sound annoyed, but there wasn’t any bite to his tone. “But now it’s your turn. First kiss, go.”
Katniss almost instantly stopped laughing. Now it was her turn to be bashful. She muttered, “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Peeta raised his brows and said, “How would I kn–oh. Oh.” Apart from the millions of people watching on television, he had been the only person there. A wave of pity washed over him; Katniss would kill him if she knew. No one deserved to have their first kiss in the middle of the Hunger Games, but Katniss especially didn’t. “I’m sorry I made you do that,” he mumbled shamefully.
“Don’t apologize, Peeta,” Katniss said. Then she surprised him by moving next to him and curling into his side. “I started it, and besides, it saved us.”
As far as Peeta knew, Katniss had been doing just fine on her own before the rule change, and any dumb romance had been purely for his benefit. Not for the first time in the past couple months, Peeta felt that he really should have died in that arena.
Katniss interrupted his thoughts by clearing her throat. He looked down at her as she said, “You know, I’m… I’m glad it was–” she hugged him tighter and buried her face in his chest “–I’m glad it was you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do too mean that.” She picked her head up and made eye contact with him. It was like she was searching for something on his face, but Peeta couldn’t figure out what. Then her eyes dropped to his lips, and Peeta’s breath hitched. They sat like that for a while, staring at each other’s mouths but both too afraid to make another move.
The door between cars opened, and Octavia’s shriek made Katniss and Peeta jump back from each other. Katniss shot up to her feet and focused on smoothing her shirt and trousers as her prep team surrounded her. “We have been looking all over for you, Katniss!” Venia practically squealed. “Effie’s going to have our heads if you’re not ready on time.”
Then the three Capitolites looked down at the couch and saw Peeta. Each of their smiles looked as though it would split their faces from how wide they were. “Oh, you two are just so cute!” Flavius gushed. He looked at Katniss and said, “We’ll forgive you, just this once. After all, who could resist all of that?” The man gestured toward Peeta with a suggestive look, which made Peeta want to squirm. He knew Flavius meant well, but those sorts of comments would never stop making him uncomfortable.
The prep team began ushering Katniss out to wherever they got her ready. Right before they left, she turned around to face Peeta and gave him a small smile and wave. He returned the gesture and collapsed back into the sofa as soon as they were gone.
***
Katniss didn’t get to see Peeta again until dinner since she was stuck with the prep team going over potential outfits, makeup looks, and hairdos. As she walked into the dining cart, her face felt tight from all the scrubbing, and a headache was slowly forming after a day of incessant chatter and hair pulling. She stopped in her room to change into her favorite pair of lounge pants and the first t-shirt she found at the top of the drawer. The shirt was so large it felt like Katniss was swimming in it. Cinna had had to start taking in her dresses around the waist because of the toll the stress of the Tour and Snow’s threats had on her, but she didn’t remember losing this much weight.
Everyone else was already in the dining car when she entered. They all looked up from their plates and conversation to stare at her, but Katniss’ attention was focused on just one of them. Peeta’s eyes widened at the sight of her then he immediately bowed his head and fixated on his plate of chicken and rice. The rest of hers and Peeta’s teams had been so kind as to save her a spot next to him, so Katniss reluctantly sat down and quietly thanked the servers as they served her food.
Both of the prep teams tittered about something, but Katniss was too famished to pay attention to what caught their eye. Effie felt the need to go over tomorrow’s schedule in District 6 again while Haymitch tried not fall into his soup. Cinna, Portia, and Peeta did their best in being attentive to Effie’s speeches, but Katniss couldn’t care less. How was it going to be any different from their visit to District 7? Or 8, 9, and 10? Katniss and Peeta would be forced to make some milquetoast speech to grieving families and act sickeningly in love, have some terribly extravagant dinner then leave in the dead of night to face their nightmares. They were living the same day over and over again, and Katniss was terrified that none of it would matter. Her and Peeta wouldn’t be able to convince President Snow, and their families would suffer for it. Gale would suffer for it.
Her imminent doom made her lose her appetite. Katniss waited until she could politely leave the dinner table then headed to her room. Figuring she could take a shower while she waited for Peeta to finish up, she went into the bathroom and stripped. Katniss turned the knob to as hot as she could stand and stood under the steady stream for what felt like hours. The water had a somewhat calming effect as Katniss took deep breaths to try and soothe herself.
Maybe she was catastrophizing. Had Peeta ever failed her before? They would get through this and be as safe as they could be in this country. Someone else would be crowned a victor next year, and they would be old news. Peeta could find someone who would love him as he deserved: fully and openly. Katniss could sleep easy knowing Prim and her mother were safe.
Once out of the shower, Katniss realized she didn’t bring in an extra pair of underwear, so she shrugged on the shirt from before — it really was quite cozy — and carried the pants into the bedroom. She stopped at the threshold when she saw Peeta perched on the edge of the bed. He looked up at her and bit his lip as he took her in. “I… I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to spend the night together,” he stammered out. “I can leave if you want me to.”
“No!” Katniss blurted out, which made her inwardly cringe. “No. Stay. Stay with me, please?”
Peeta’s face looked to be full of pain when he replied, “Always.”
Katniss scurried to the drawers of clothes and told Peeta to turn and face the wall. Once he had done as he was told, she quickly found some plain cotton undergarments and pulled them up along with a pair of shorts. “Okay, I’m all good.”
As she crawled onto her side of the bed, Peeta bent down to unlatch his prosthesis. Katniss snuck a peek from behind him and felt entranced by the way his hands moved. They moved so nimbly; it wasn’t hard to imagine how skilled he was at painting and sketching and baking and frosting with fingers like those. She wondered what else his fingers could do.
The intrusive thought made Katniss squeak and fall backward onto the bed. Her face burned when Peeta turned around and looked at her with concern. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, never better,” she assured him then scrambled under the covers. “Let’s go to sleep now.”
“Okay…” Peeta drew out as he joined her in bed. As soon as he was settled, Katniss curled up next to him with her head resting on his chest. She felt his arm wrap around her back and his hand rest on her shoulder and had to fight the urge sigh with pleasure. It didn’t make sense to her how this helped her sleep when the pills couldn’t. How Peeta was the only one who could bring her down from the terror of her nightmares. It felt almost… unfair. Like she was once again using Peeta for her own gain, knowing full well she would never be able to give him what he wanted. “I didn’t realize I’d left that shirt in here,” he mumbled, voice coated with sleep.
“Hm?” Katniss hummed in response, not knowing what he was getting at.
“The shirt you’re wearing,” Peeta explained. “I didn’t know I left it in here.”
Katniss’ eyes shot open, but she didn’t dare make a move. So many things made sense now: the shirt’s sheer size, the prep teams’ snickers, the look on his face when she walked in with just it on and nothing else. What was she to do? Rip it off and throw it away? Ask him if he wanted it back? “I–I didn’t realize it was yours. I’m sorry,” she told him. Her heart felt like it was beating out of its chest.
“It’s fine; it’s yours if you want it. I don’t mind.”
But she did. Katniss minded very much. The once cozy shirt was now burning her skin wherever it touched. She needed it gone immediately. It was the most comforting article of clothing she had on this train. It reeked of her guilt and selfishness. A whiff of cinnamon floated from the collar. Katniss’ grip on Peeta tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut to prevent any crying. With a whisper, she thanked him for the shirt and everything else.
Katniss didn’t wear his clothes outside of her room after the first time. But every night, she would don a shirt multiple sizes too big and fall asleep nestled between Peeta’s arm and chest. The clothes’ undeniable Peeta scent helped her calm down when she woke up thrashing and screaming from a fresh nightmare. Sometimes she would stay awake long after he’d fallen asleep and watch the way the moonlight reflected off his ashy blond hair. It took a bit of self-restraint to stop herself from running her fingers through his curls. That was just another thing Katniss couldn’t allow herself to have.
She became almost obsessed with his lips: the way they formed words at their Victory Tour stops, the perpetual cut in the bottom corner that he constantly worried with his teeth, how they ghosted her own when they kissed in front of the crowds. Not for the first time, Katniss noticed the way other women reacted to him. Peeta made them all blush and giggle, smiled easily when members of their prep teams made inappropriate comments about him, always danced at least once with anyone who asked him. Those were the nights Katniss didn’t want his arms around her as they slept. She knew she was being unreasonable; Peeta wasn’t hers. Not like that. But it didn’t stop her from feeling vindicated every morning when she was the one who woke up in his embrace despite the previous night’s frustration.
Their group left District 2 late in the evening. It had been an awful day, having to stare at Cato and Clove’s mourning families as her and Peeta babbled on about being honored to be part of the Games and the generosity of the Capitol. Cato had a younger sister, around 14 years old with short blond hair and a face that looked just like her brother’s. She stared at Katniss and Peeta with a mix of grief and anger the whole time they were on stage. Katniss squeezed Peeta’s hand so tight she saw a grimace flash across his face before he quickly put on an impassive look again. She didn’t care; his hand was the only thing tethering her to this earth.
The dinner after hadn’t been that much better. People were polite but distant. After all, they were the reason District 2 hadn’t had a victor this year. Not that Katniss wanted to be a Career, but she was beginning to understand that the training was not just about honor, not really. If you had to send two children into the Games every year and there was the chance of increasing your odds of bringing one of them back, why wouldn’t you do it? And not only did you save one of your own kids, but their victory brought a year’s worth of gifts and prosperity to the entire district. But this year, District 2 had failed. They had lost two children for nothing because, despite their age and size, Cato and Clove were children. Katniss would hate herself too if she was the reason her kids were dead. She already did.
Once the train left the station to District 1 — where an even worse nightmare awaited — Katniss headed straight for her room, simultaneously hoping Peeta would and wouldn’t follow her. She didn’t deserve his comfort tonight. She didn’t deserve it ever if she was being totally honest. But Peeta didn’t care what Katniss thought she did or didn’t deserve and was right behind her as she stepped inside her room.
She muttered something about taking a shower and went into the bathroom to begin taking off her heavy dress and unpinning her hair. After gingerly laying the gown, Katniss stepped back to observed it; it was a deep blue velvet with diamonds studded all the way to the hem. Like every time she had looked in the mirror after Cinna dresses her, Katniss wondered how he had managed to make her look so beautiful. The sapphire blue had gleamed against her tan skin and had complemented the rich purple velvet of Peeta’s suit. She wondered what Peeta had thought of her in that dress.
In the shower, Katniss watched her makeup go down the drain and rested her forehead against the tile. Tomorrow they would be in District 1, both of whose tributes she killed. If today had been terrible, tomorrow would be even more so. Tonight more than ever, Katniss needed a good night’s sleep, but there was little chance she would get through the night without any nightmares. She looked down at her fingers and saw they had long since pruned. It was probably time to get out of the shower.
Wrapping a towel around herself, Katniss left the bathroom and found Peeta already asleep in bed. His hair was damp; how long had she been in the shower? Silently, she found some undergarments and pulled a maroon t-shirt over her head. She opened the drawer with her pajama bottoms and found it was empty. The staff on the train was normally pretty good at doing laundry, so Katniss had no idea where her clothes could be. This was getting ridiculous. There had to be a conspiracy on this train to make Katniss as uncomfortable as possible.
Fine, she thought stubbornly. After tying her damp hair into a loose braid, Katniss crawled onto her bed into the covers. She stared at Peeta’s sleeping form for a moment, and a sort of peace washed over her. Katniss felt an overwhelming need to protect him all of a sudden. It was then she realized that keeping her family safe also meant keeping him safe. Despite their confusing relationship, Katniss suddenly understood that… she cared for Peeta.
Well, she had always known that to some degree. But now, this aching in her chest made the feeling all the more potent. He was everything she wasn’t. He… he made her want to be better. Not for the first time, Katniss thought to herself how lucky she was to be Peeta’s friend.
It was in the Training Center that Katniss suggested her and Peeta should be engaged. With a sigh, Peeta said yes then excused himself to his room, saying he was tired. Katniss was confused. This was what he wanted, she thought, and she told Haymitch as much.
“Not like this,” Haymitch said. “He wanted it to be real.”
Now it was Katniss’ turn to escape to her room and hide under the comforter. She tried and failed not to wonder how Gale would take the news of her impending engagement. It was so confusing; Katniss had never wanted to be married. Not to Gale, not to Peeta, not to anyone. She could just feel the disappointment and betrayal Gale would feel once he heard the news. It wasn’t her fault! It was Snow’s and the Games’ and the Capitol’s incessant need for vapid entertainment. She had just been trying to stay alive. Where had it all gone so wrong?
Maybe Gale would say it was better to die with integrity than become such a pawn. That was what Peeta told her the night before their Games. Katniss had made such a mess of things: denying Peeta’s dying wish and hurting her best friend. She wished Peeta was here to tell her that it was alright. That they would get through this together.
A couple hours before their interview with Caesar Flickerman, Katniss’ prep team came into her room to begin the makeover process. She was silent as they gushed about the impending proposal and let them do whatever they wanted to her face and body. It was barely hers anymore, anyway. When Cinna entered, Katniss had to do everything in her power to prevent an emotional breakdown. He showed her the dress she was to wear that night, and it made her want to sob even more. It was strapless and made entirely of crimson tulle; red flowers made up the neckline and dotted the skirt. It was so utterly, completely romantic that Katniss felt nauseated looking at it.
When Peeta saw her backstage, the way he looked at her made her think she might not be that irredeemable. But Peeta had always seen the best in people. Katniss walked up to him and took his hands in hers before saying, “You look nice, Peeta.”
It was such an understatement. Peeta looked like everything a victor should be. Broad-shouldered, with his tuxedo perfectly tailored to his body. His prep team had allowed his curls room to breathe, and they were elegantly arranged on his head. “You look nice, too,” he told her.
“You don’t mean that,” Katniss teased.
“I do too mean that.” He kissed her cheek, and her face burned. “I like the flowers in your hair.”
They were small real-life versions of the ones on her dress. Katniss absentmindedly touched one near her ear. “Thank you,” she breathed. Her fingers brushed his cheekbone, and she suddenly threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry,” Katniss whispered. “I’ve really messed it all up.”
Peeta held her back so he could face her. “It’s okay, Katniss. We’ll get through this together, like always.”
She nodded, looked up to the ceiling, and rapidly blinked to prevent her tears from falling. “Like always,” she repeated.
President Snow met Katniss and Peeta on stage after the proposal to personally congratulate them. He clapped Peeta on the shoulder and kissed Katniss on the cheek Peeta had before the interview. Yet another thing of hers he had ruined. His nails dug into Katniss’ arms, his stare pinned her to where she stood, and she silently asked with the raise of her eyebrows what had been plaguing her mind. Was it enough? Was giving over everything of me and Peeta enough?
In reply, President Snow gave the smallest shake of his head. No.