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A few years have passed since the end of the war and District 12 has almost entirely reinvented itself. New shops and businesses are popping up all the time. The economy is rebounding, and so is our population. Our medicine factory has provided countless job opportunities in a way no one could’ve imagined. District 12 is almost as good, if not better, than what it once was. The latest arrival in town is an outdoor skating rink. Peeta says we should try it out, so that’s what we’re doing today. We’re bundled up for the weather. The buttons on our coats are cold to the touch. I’m wearing one of his sweaters that has basically become mine.
“Have you ever skated before?” he asks me on the walk to town. It’s a cold, sunny January afternoon. His hands are gloved and holding one of mine from the confines of his coat pocket. Peeta isn’t too proud to accept gloves, even if they were from the Capitol. He found a pair of warm winter gloves in his house the first winter after the war. Of course, almost a whole year had passed by then and he had all but entirely moved into my own house. Still, Peeta says he likes having something warm on his hands for his morning walks to the bakery or the odd time he comes to the woods with me. Those aren’t hunting days, he’s much too loud. He likes getting fresh air and seeing what the woods look like covered in snow, so we get out for a morning trek sometimes. The snow on the ground mixed with his rosy cheeks makes his blue eyes shine even brighter than usual.
“Kind of,” I tell him. “My father showed me once when he took me to the lake. I had a lot of fun but I kept falling. The weather that day was similar to how it’s been lately.” District 12 has been in a cold spell. It’s been one of the chilliest winters in recent memory. At least the sun has been out. My depressive states spike during the winter, so any bit of sunshine helps a little bit. When I’m not up for getting outside, Peeta tries to coax me into sitting by the window to get a bit of sunlight on my bad days.
The winter my father took me to the lake was the one before he died. I was ten years old. It had been a long, cold, winter and times had been tough. Not as bad as the next winter obviously, but it was almost a precursor of what was to come. I remember my father working extended shifts in the mines to try and get a little bit of extra money. He rarely had a day off but on this one particular day, I begged and pleaded with him to take me to the woods. He told my mother and I that he had something better for me. My father bundled me up, similarly to how Peeta and I are today, and off we went to the lake. The temperature had been consistently cold enough that part of the lake had frozen over — enough that he felt okay to bear his weight on the ice, let alone mine.
We didn’t have proper skates. I’m not sure anyone in District 12 would have back then. Maybe Delly, being the daughter of the shoemaker, but where would she have gone skating? We spent the morning sliding around the frozen lake on a piece of tarp my father found in the lake house. It’s one of the best memories I have with him.
Prim didn’t come with us. She was never a very outdoorsy child, always preferring to stay back with our mother attending to patients or doing her schoolwork. Prim never liked being cold and hated having to go outside for longer than necessary in the winters. My mother must have never found out we were on the frozen lake, because she never mentioned it. If only she had known there were worse games for us to be playing.
I must’ve gotten lost in my train of thought somewhere along the way. Peeta squeezes my hand, bringing my attention back to where we are now. We both wish he had gotten the chance to know my father as an adult, and not just the man who traded squirrels behind the bakery. Peeta has remarked before that he hopes he can be half the man my father once was. I think my father would have adored Peeta. He thinks highly of my father as is. It would have been good for Peeta to have an example of what a loving family should look like, but the best he’s got is Haymitch and I.
“What about you?” I ask Peeta, turning to face him. “I’m the one who showed you the lake so I’m guessing the answer is no?” I’ve taken Peeta there many, many times since we’ve grown back together. It’s a special place of solitude for just us. It may have been a place for just my father and I, but I don’t think he’d mind me sharing it with my best friend. The man I love.
He smiles back at me. “No, never. Not unless you count slipping on ice walking to and from school.”
I laugh and bump my shoulder against his. “You, falling on ice? Can’t see that ever happening.” Even now, several years adjusted to having a prosthetic leg, and a newer, upgraded model at that, Peeta still has bouts of clumsiness with it. He can be harsh on himself when it happens and I hate it. I try to offset these moments with soft words of affection.
Peeta laughs in response and rolls his eyes, then blushes. He remembers a moment he once thought would be “the most embarrassing day of his life.” I wait for him to open up to me, but he doesn’t. He just continues to blush and sheepishly avoid eye contact with me, clearly focused on something.
“Spit it out, Mellark,” I insist, nudging him in the ribs for added measure.
“Fine. So I don’t know if you remember — but if you do — remember the year we had that really severe ice storm? When we didn’t have school for a few days because it was that bad, and it took even longer for the layers of ice to be suitable for walking on?”
I nod. I remember that year. I think it was the same winter I went to the lake with my father, or maybe the one before it. We had a prolonged period of freezing rain, followed by the temperature rapidly dropping. The electrical grid, which was already dismal at best before the war, could not withstand the heavy weight of the ice. District 12 was without power for days. Town got it back before the Seam did, of course. I couldn’t even be excited about being home from school because it was so cold. Prim and I huddled up under the blankets. The ice was another issue on its own. Bags of sand were a luxury only the highest class of merchants could afford to spread on their entryways. It wasn’t uncommon at all for children to show up to school with bruises, scrapes, sprains, and broken bones during the winter. My mother did what she could to help out, but vitamin and calcium deficiencies were rampant.
“Prim slipped a lot that winter,” I tell Peeta. “I was always worried she’d get hurt. Clumsy little duck.” He squeezes my hand again at the mention of my little sister. How hard I worked at protecting her from getting hurt… and look at where we are now.
Thankfully Peeta continues his story before I further spiral about Prim. “Well, what you don’t remember, and I really hope you didn’t see it, was the day Delly and I were walking to school and… I saw you. You were coming up to where the road to school merged with your road from the Seam. I got distracted by the sight of you and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Anyway, I slipped on a patch of ice, went flying, fell down, and ripped my pants. Right in the butt — it’s not funny!” Peeta playfully scolds me as I snort with laughter, the hysterical, belly aching kind. “All I could think about was how much I hoped the girl I had a crush on didn’t see my underwear! I didn’t even care that much about how mad Mother was when I came home right away with ripped pants!”
I continue to laugh at Peeta’s story. No, I don’t remember this. I wonder what it would be like if I had — the way I remember the bread and the dandelion, the sign that spring was coming. That little symbol of hope now holds my hand as we walk to town. Another thought does come to mind and I can’t help but tease him about it.
“So you don’t want me to see your underwear? Got it,” I tease. “I won’t ever take off your pants again. Unless there’s a different girl you don’t want seeing them? In that case, I can go back to taking your pants off if that’s what you’d prefer.”
Peeta rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, releasing a large cloud of condensation. “Katniss, I encourage you to continue taking off my pants. I would like to continue taking off yours as well,” he deadpans. “If you’ll allow it.”
“I’ll allow it.”
We’ve arrived at the rink. It’s small and not too fancy. I’m sure there’s nicer ones in the Capitol, but for District 12, this is a novelty. There’s two employees working: a nice, young guy from the Seam named Owen, and another who Peeta thinks is named Shiloh. Owen and Shiloh explain ice safety to us and offer up helmet and skate rentals. There’s even a canteen that sells hot chocolate, which is my favourite, although Peeta’s adamant he can make me a better cup at home. I have no doubt that his hot chocolate is better, but I can’t help but think of how exciting it is that it’s no longer a luxury contained to the Capitol trains. It’s the little things like this that slowly make me believe Panem is truly a better world than it was before the war.
We’re pulling our skates on when a potential problem hits me. “Peeta!” I gasp. “Will you be able to skate with your leg? I didn’t even think to check with you!” He is the one that suggested we try skating, but I don’t want Peeta to miss out just for my benefit. He has no troubles with swimming now, and even has a leg specifically made for water submersion, but skating is new territory for us. The last thing we need is for him to get hurt, or have to take an unexpected trip to the Capitol to get his leg repaired.
Peeta nods. “I should be able to. It’s not like we’ll be going very fast, and I’ve fallen with my leg as is. And besides,” he winks at me, “I’ll have you to hold on to.” I roll my eyes but hold out my hand to him as we take our first steps onto the ice. I’m strong, but not strong enough to hold up Peeta.
The first bit of skating goes by slowly. I’m more hesitant on the ice than I initially anticipated. Peeta slips a few times but manages to save himself from fully falling. The rink isn’t too busy. A few families are gathered at the other end intended for children. I hear joy and laughter coming from their direction.
I start to get the hang of things after a while. I manage to balance and skate without gripping the fence for support. I even manage to do a circle, albeit a slow and very tiny one. I decide to show off my new skills for Peeta.
“Look, Peeta! Look at me!” I call, as I try to twirl. Instead, I stumble over my feet and find myself laying on the ground.
“Katniss! Are you okay?” Peeta does his best to scramble over to me to make sure I’m not hurt. I think I’m fine, but I know he won’t relax until he’s checked for himself. In the process, he stumbles and falls, nearly landing directly on top of me. Once we’ve confirmed neither of us are hurt, I lean up and kiss him directly on the mouth. Surrounded by snow and the light of the sky starting to fade, this kiss reminds me so much of that first one we shared in months as we kicked off the Victory Tour. There’s no faking for the cameras with this kiss. Peeta kisses me back ferociously. We’ve forgotten we’re in a public setting until we hear the sounds of other patrons coughing and huffing. When Peeta pulls away, I can feel how red my face is, and it’s not from the cold. Peeta doesn’t seem to feel any embarrassment. To be fair, it’s not unusual for District 12 to see us in a moment of affection anymore. We’re almost always holding hands when we walk around town and we’ve had more than one customer walk in on us kissing behind the bakery counter. Peeta and I spend a lot of time kissing. All sorts of kisses too: forehead kisses, cheek kisses, kisses good morning and goodnight, kisses down each other’s bodies, kisses in places only Peeta would ever see.
“Sorry, folks!” Peeta apologizes. Most of the other skaters go back to what they were doing before, but Owen from the desk seems to be gawking awkwardly. “Turn around, Mr. Sparrow,” Peeta says. I don’t question how he knows the boy’s name. We help each other stand and return to skating. It’s getting cold but we’re determined to stay out a little longer. Peeta’s balance improves and I eventually brave little twirls with more success than I had earlier. We’re full of smiles and laughter. It’s one of the best winter days I’ve had in a long time.
By the time the sun has disappeared for the day, a light dusting of snow has started to fall. Everyone else has gone home for dinner, so we have the rink to ourselves. Peeta pulls me close to his chest and holds me there. I curl further into him, just as I always do. I feel so safe and warm in his arms. If Peeta were asked, he would say something similar. How holding the girl he’s loved forever gives him stability and comfort.
"I love you," he whispers in my ear.
I grin against his chest. “I love you too. Always.”
"Always," he reaffirms.
We stay in our embrace for a couple more moments until Peeta slowly starts to move us in a small circle. He shifts his hands to my hips. With the snow falling softly around is, it’s as if the two of us are dancing inside of a snow globe. We stay this way for a bit. I get lost in his eyelashes, those blonde eyelashes that have fixated me for many years now. Even the snowflakes are drawn to his eyes, as a couple fallen flakes have landed on them. Peeta gazes into my eyes too. I’m sure he’s conjuring up his next painting of them.
The snow starts to pick up. Peeta gently cradles my face and kisses me on the lips, warm and soft. I lean into his kiss until he pulls away a moment later. “Let’s go home,” he whispers, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate and light a fire. Sound good?”
I nod my head, eager to get back inside. I’m getting hungry, too. We link arms and head for home. We’re quiet on our walk back to Victor’s Village. Other than the sounds of our footsteps in the snow falling around us, the world is silent. I’m tired and a little sore from falling, so I collapse on the couch the moment I get inside. Peeta rubs my feet and wraps them into fuzzy socks, very similarly to how he did in the cave. I reach over to rub his foot in return but he stops me. “You just let me take care of you for a while,” he says. His smile is so soft and tender. He said that in the cave too. I start to protest, insisting I want to take care of him, but he jumps up to take the cheese buns out of the oven. I must be so tired because I don’t even remember him putting them in. He returns with a plate of them and I grab one immediately. It’s the perfect snack to warm up with from a cold day outdoors.
After I’ve scarfed down a couple more and returned to my attempts to massage Peeta’s foot, we head upstairs. Peeta runs a warm bubble bath for the two of us; it’s the best way to end off our day. We sit engulfed in the bubbles for a while; I rest between Peeta’s legs and chest. He places a line of light kisses from my jaw to my neck, which causes me to melt further into him. I hum little sounds of contentedness and relief when his lips linger on the last kiss.
“You’re my best friend,” he whispers into my skin.
I crane my head around to look up at him, our shoulders brushing.
“You’re my best friend, too,” I whisper back. I could spend my whole life trying to put into words how deep my love for Peeta Mellark goes. At the end of the day though, he is my best friend. My better half.