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It had been the longest, hardest night yet. Primrose had terrible nightmares, waking with tears at the sound of her name being pulled from the bowl over and over. Her mother had had another one of her bad days, with short answers and curt responses at dinner. Katniss herself had spent half the night in that strange space between alertness and sleep (where you never quite feel rested enough) and wakefulness with dread for the coming day. Knowing what was in store for her the next day had never been helpful for her rest.
The Quarter Quell had been announced at the end of January, and Peeta had had her training essentially every day since. Her only off days were Sundays with Gale, and those were so tense that she doesn’t know if she would call it a rest day. Now, in May, the coldness in the air and the soreness in her muscles had worn off, but the bitterness of Peeta’s plan had not.
It had been obvious, perhaps since the minute she walked out of Haymitch’s house the night of the announcement, that Peeta would be doing everything in his power to get her home. His efforts had included intense workouts, long runs, and hearty meals to build as much muscle and stamina as possible. At first, she was bitter about his attempts. Then, confused and conflicted. And finally, sad. Sad that Peeta had not valued his life enough to consider that he could be coming out alive. Or, perhaps, the fact that Peeta himself feels expendable enough that Katniss herself wouldn’t do everything in her power to get him home. Was that all he could think of himself? Useless and expendable and under appreciated?
Today, especially, had stretched long with his intensive training. His wrestling background had obviously helped him to understand the best movements and excerises to piece together, and he had developed quite the schedule. The day had started with four miles around the District, and pushing heavy barrels and crates in Katniss backyard for hours. After a brief lunch provided by her mother (and a small wound check by Prim for Haymitch), they moved onto push ups and sit ups and jumping and climbing and general moving. It seemed to have never stopped. However, after Peeta had made Haymitch do one final pull on the bars stacked around 6 and a half feet up, he had retreated home with mumbling and grumbling. Katniss would give credit where credit is due, and he had definitely worked hard to appease Peeta. His face had sunken in and although his attitude hadn’t changed, his focus clearly had. It made her sad, though, that even cunning Haymitch, for all his years of gambling his liver and brain with the alcohol, couldn’t think of a way out of this one. In just two short months, only two Victors would remain in the Village.
Now, she and Peeta are the only two to remain. They sit on the back porch of his home, and Katniss cannot remember how they got here. They had finished another dinner with her mother and Prim, and she walked him over to his house with the premise of reviewing various plants. The plant book sits in between them on a small table, along with a bowl of raspberries for a treat. She sits in one chair and he sits in the other, slightly turned towards one another. The sun has just set and the sky is beginning to grow dark. Usually, she would be home by now.
Instead; the silence has grown between them and they each pretend to understand their other half. Peeta’s eyes are focused in the distance, watching what appears to be a bird in a tree making a nest. The pinks of the evening are fluttering in the sky. His orange is there, too.
Katniss can’t focus on the sky. Not when such a distraction sits right beside her. He is beautiful tonight, not just in the kind way he speaks to her when the physical part of training is finished and Haymitch has left, but also in his appearance tonight. He hasn’t gotten a haircut in some weeks, it seems, because his curls are unkempt and frizzy atop his head. His skin shines with what she is sure is sweat from his hard work today. His eyes are as bright as they have ever been, and it’s evident that his arms have become larger and his shoulders broader with all of the excerise. She hadn’t noticed until maybe a week ago, but he had definitely gotten taller in the last few months.
No matter what she does, she can’t keep him off her mind. She misses the inside jokes and the humor he shines, and the way he silently protects her from the gaze of the men in the Capitol. She misses the nights in bed where she very rarely ever had her nightmares and even then she knew he would be there beside her. She misses her friend, and having someone she enjoyed speaking with from day to day. If nothing else, he had always made the Capitol so much more bearable and, sometimes, fun. Will he be the same way when they have to go back?
Secretly, she misses their physical interactions most of all. His hugs and warmth, and the way his hands would work through her hair to rub the base of her skull. His right leg bouncing beside her to calm his own nerves (his only tell that he was nervous). Even more secretly, and even more deep down, she misses the smallest of kisses that he would give. A peck on the forehead in the crowds to calm her and keep up the show, or a press of lips to her nose when they’re out in the cold. His mouth to her hand or cheek after a nightmare. And most of all, the brush of his lips when he leans down during their hugs.
She isn’t allowed to miss it, she knows. One of them will be dead in a few weeks and it’s best that they keep this up as a friendship more than anything. It will hurt the other less when one of them is gone. You can’t miss what you’ve never had.
She has had it, though. In the arena, tucked into the cave. Happiness and familiarity in a place where that should never have formed? How did he have the power to create it? In the Capitol after, when she was finally allowed to see him after the games. The power and hunger she felt for him when he swept her off her feet and into the air in the hug. Nothing could’ve stopped her from reaching him that day. The Victory Tour almost made it worse. Sharing a bed with him and spending day in and day out beside him. Learning his hobbies and his interests and the books he had read. The reason he let his brother win the wrestling match that day, and the msot complex recipes at the bakery. How could she not miss the happiness that emulates off of her when he stands beside her? She herself could even admit that she actually wanted to know everything that makes him Peeta.
Looking at him now, it’s hard to not let it all flood back to her. It’s comes in echoes and flashbacks and buried deep memories. It’s hits her hard, suddenly. She looks at him right on this time, and not out of the corner of her eyes. Why had she denied herself this for so long? The realization that she could have all of the things with him that she had missed? What could have been if she had just opened her eyes farther than the next day of survival? Could she have found a confidante and friend, and someone even more? Could her worries have been eased at the reality that she wouldn’t face it alone? That there would be someone by her side through it all? If she had given into her wants when she got home, instead of cowering alone, would this Quell have never had happened? Would she and Peeta be left alone to have lived their lives in District 12 and inevitably grown together the way that they wanted to?
He closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds and his eyelashes hit his cheeks. She recalls and thinks back, that day with her ankle hurting and propped up and his hands so close to her. How she didn’t act on this feeling then, she doesn’t know. But now, the light of his lashes are too much at this point. For the first time in months, he looks relaxed and calm and not overwhelmed with the pressure of slowly dying. He doesn’t even seem to be in pain, his bad leg outstretched and comfortable.
She only has a second to do it. To take all of the courage she has ever had and act upon feelings she has kept in the smallest corner of her heart for as long as possible. Take the games out of the question, her mother and Primrose safe in their new home, and President Snow far from her mind. She doesn’t even think of Gale, because anything that would’ve ever occurred between them was obligation and not love. All she focuses on now is his crown of blonde curls and the final wisps of sunlight reflected on his face.
It isn’t instinct, it isn’t required. It isn’t anything about the Quarter Quell or the Hunger Games that she had fought in. It’s the bread in the rain and the glances across the school hall and the bruises he endured. It’s his kindness and the way he inspired her to go on, go on long enough so that they could find each other in this lifetime. Find him, she did.
She gets up quickly, stealthily and quiet. There is just enough room on the side of the rocking chair for her to squeeze in, resting her legs across his thighs. She lowers herself into the spot gently, waiting on him to react. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize until she lies her head on the side of his arm, where he startled the tiniest bit and opens his eyes. He looks over at her with the smallest squint in his eyes.
“Peeta,” she whispers when their eyes lock on. The glint in his eye is bright and beautiful and almost hopeful. He smiles at her for the briefest of seconds. It’s miles wide to her. In the corner of her eye, she sees the smallest spot of glistening grass from the short rainstorm.
“Hey,” he says to her. She can’t smile back, though. Not when this is the only true happiness she has found within herself in weeks. This is serious. His smile fades when she doesn’t return it. His hand reaches up and cups her face, examining her closely, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She almost breaks down and cries right then and there. If only he could understand the power he has over her, and the fact that this is the reason she couldnt let herself feel it earlier. How wrecked she wouldve been if he didn’t come home, or if he had been taken from her. And now, the fact that he thinks she only wants for him when she is hurting and needs a cure. No, she wants for him all the time. She wants none of the time she has left to go to waste.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, surprised at the way she has managed to speak so freely. She moves closer to him, almost placing herself in his lap.
“I’ve been right here,” he says, putting his other hand on her knee. He is so calm and free and in control of his actions. She wants to be the same.
“No, you haven’t,” her face lifts now, looking at him more closely. She can see the freckles that dot his cheeks through his sun-kissed tan. He doesn’t speak now. Not because he can’t, but because he would rather hear what she has to say this time. He doesn’t need to rectify or clarify for her.
“I can’t ignore it anymore,” she says to him, almost under her breath. How could she? “It can’t be pushed away any longer.”
Now it’s his time to be confused. His brows furrow and he becomes even more focused on her. She wants his smile back. Shouldn’t she be happy about what she has now discovered she wants?
“Listen, I know you’re not happy with the training schedule. Maybe we can work it out so that we have a few more hours free in the morning, but it’s really important to me that you’re fit enough to take on some of these tributes. Have you seen any of the careers from 2? It doesn’t matter which one is reaped, they’ll tower over you regardless and I want you to-,” she interrupts him before he can finish the spill of words. Of course, for him, it all comes back to her protection.
“Peeta,” she’s shaking her head so that he knows it’s not about the training. “Us. We can’t ignore us anymore.”
His confusion falls and instead his face turns stoic, “just a few more weeks, Katniss, and then it’ll probably all be over. You won’t have to act anymore.”
Of course he thinks that this is her wanting to cut all ties. Maybe he thinks that she doesn’t even want to be friends with him anymore. How could he know that it’s exactly the opposite? That she wants more? He wouldn’t, because she’s never given any solid clues. How painful it must be for him, to never be the first choice. To always come up last. Not anymore, not if she has any say.
“No! It’s not like that,” she almost shouts now, but she doesn’t because she wants no interruptions, “Peeta, I was never good at pretending.”
She starts slow, maybe that’s the easiest thing to do.
“I was good at pushing it away. And not giving myself any grace and only focusing on the survival of it all,” she’s stuttering here and there, tripping on her words, “and I’ve never been good at saying it all like you have. But I can’t do it anymore, I can’t pretend that I can go on like this. I really can’t.”
He shifts in his spot, which causes her to move even closer.
“I don’t want to be just your friend. I’ve been thinking it all over, the quell and the games and even the bread, and if I had just allowed myself one minute to breathe before, maybe it would all be different. Maybe I could’ve done this sooner. But I can’t keep being your friend and then going to bed at night just to wish you were there.” She has to give it all she has so that she can be sure he knows, so she keeps going, “and friends don’t do that. I know that much. I’m not supposed to want you there or miss you when I know I’ll see you the very next day. And im not supposed to think about kissing you when you’re holding my feet down during the sit ups.”
His eyebrows go back to being creased and his lips form the smallest of ‘o’s. He looks like he is certain it’s a dream.
“I think I’ve known for a while now, even without telling myself. I think I knew it had to be you. And whether it was fate or luck or both or even some sort of curse, we got here together. And I don’t want to go anywhere else without you here, too. No more steps forward without you,” she swallows a breath, “and it’s not an obligation. And it’s not a sudden thought. It’s built up and up and up to where I can’t keep it contained anymore, and if I have to do one more weight throw without knowing I’ll go home to a kiss from you, then I might just let the peacekeepers find me with a squirrel long before the games.”
He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t make any motion to wipe the tears that unknowingly begin to warp down her face.
“Say something!” She says louder, because when things don’t go her way she gets so angry she could cry.
“What are you saying?” He whispers when he finishes taking such a breath. She lets out a sob.
“I’m saying that,” and she needs another breath, “I’m saying that I can’t keep going on like this. And that it was always you. And that I think I might’ve known since the bread, but at the very least the first games. And that no one else was ever going to fill your spot in my bed, or in my head, and that I wouldn’t let them anyway. Because I want you.”
His eyes glisten again.
“And that I should’ve kissed you anyway. All those times I thought about you, or looked at you, or needed you at night. Despite all my anger and all my worry about what would happen to us, I should’ve kissed you anyway.”
There. It’s done. It can’t be taken back now. It’s laid out in the air between them. He looks amazed and bewildered, and maybe even a little scared. But the happiness is unmistakable.
Suddenly, she is scooped into his arms and lifted into his lap. Her head resting against his shoulder, her face pressed into his neck. His smile is so wide that she can feel it when he presses his cheek onto her temple. Because it’s all she has wanted all this time, she wraps her arms around him too, tighter and tighter and tighter until it’s all she can think about.
He is all consuming, it seems, because everything around her is Peeta, Peeta, Peeta. There is no longer the sky or the ground or the raspberries in the bowl or the unnaturally large house beside them. It is just him. Just blonde curls and wispy eyelashes and strong arms that would do anything to protect her. She’s crying now, not because she is sad or upset, but because she wants him so much and to know that the bounty on his life is so high means she would miss him forever. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. It won’t be him. It’ll be her, and he will go home. She will love home while she can and then he will move on after her death, and find a pretty girl to call home.
Suddenly, her face is being pulled from the crook of his neck, and she is looking down at him from her spot on his lap. It isn’t long before both sets of eyes flicker down to the others pair of lips, and then kissing him is as natural as it has always been. It isn’t something she has to do but something she wants, craves, and even thinks she is pretty good at. Kissing him is her purpose right now. Maybe it always has been.
It’s a little salty, with her tears mixed in, and she accidentally bumps his teeth with her own once or twice because she can’t quit smiling. Not when she is finally getting a little bit of the happiness she might’ve deserved. And that’s always been her problem, isn’t it? She had always thought she wasn’t worthy of happiness. Well, she isn’t worthy of Peeta but somehow he loves her anyway. That much she knows. So maybe, she can have some happiness, too.
The kissing continues. It continues and continues and she doesn’t notice that the sun has gone down for the day, and that this was her last day spent without any of her feelings out in the open. Despite it going on, he pulls away all too quickly.
When they back away, they’re making eye contact and she sees the smallest hint of a smile on his face. His words shock her, though.
“Katniss,” he says, and she begins to frown. His tone is much more different than she expected it to be, “it’s all I ever wanted.”
She shakes her head. Of course she knows that.
“But it can’t happen now,” she is appalled, honestly, and breathes in through her nose very deeply. What could he possibly mean? “Not when the Quell is coming. Not when I’ll be gone in a few weeks.”
“N-no,” she says, shaking her head. Her loose dark hair is cascading around her shoulders. Her hands go up to his neck.
“But it is. And if I have any say, you go home. If it comes down to the two of us, it’s you who leaves the arena,” he says with a sense of solemn that hurts her chest. “And if you let yourself feel this way now, it’ll never be the same for you. You won’t be able to see any rebellion through, and you won’t be able to come home and live the life you deserve.”
What is he talking about? She doesn’t want a life without him. She wants him here, in the Victor’s Village or in the Merchant sector or even in the seam. In the woods for all she cares.
“There has to be some way,” she says, “something we can do. Haymitch got us both out last time, maybe he’ll get us both again.” Katniss doesn’t plead and she certainly doesn’t beg, but something has to give.
“I think you and I both know that this isn’t the case this year,” he says to her, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “And you know how I feel, and how I have felt for the longest of times. I would give anything for this to go on right now. But I know we’re going back into arena together. And I know only one of us is coming home. And it will be you. So it’s not fair for me to let you feel this way, not when you could come home and find somewhere else for your love to go. A few months of happiness for the two of us isn’t fair, not when you would have to come home and balance a lifetime of sadness on your shoulders alone.”
Her nostrils are flared and her eyes are pouring rivulets now. How could he do this? When she finally knows what she wants, how could he deny her now?
“But I won’t come home,” she says, “not really. Not without you. Even if I’m alive, it’s not home without you.”
He smiles up at her then, and she wants to count his freckles. Forget the terror they are facing and do something so domestic that her teeth rot.
“But someone else will be home for you,” Peeta says, breaking her heart. “I think we both have someone in mind.”
She shakes her head. She doesn’t want Gale. She never could. She was delusional and blinded by the survival pact they had built. She can survive without him now, but not without Peeta.
“If we do this,” he says, and she can see him holding back his tears. Always the strong one. “If we ruin this now, then nothing will ever be the same for you. Not in a hundred lifetimes. You never get what you deserve. So we can’t. As much as I want to, we have to stay friends. Only friends.”
She can’t stand him anymore, she hates him so much (she could never hate him). She rushes back into his chest, crying her eyes out and sobbing loudly. She wouldve never guessed that he might’ve denied her this. And he doesn’t deny her the comfort now, with his hands moving up and down her back and a subtle rock back and forth. Sweet nothings in her ears and reminders that she is loved. Even if he won’t let her accept that love.
She doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually he stands up with her in his arms. Her legs around his middle and her arms round his neck. She still cries, but just silently now. She doesn’t bother to see where he is going. It isn’t until he opens the door to her house and she notices the empty couch in the sitting room that she realizes how late it probably actually is. He quiets his footsteps as much as he possibly can and takes the back staircase, the one closest to her room, to lay her gently in her bed.
She slides down gently, to tired and depressed to try to resist. She keeps her fingertips on his neck though, and it causes him to put a hand to her cheek once again.
“Peeta,” it’s one last plead. One last chance at their happiness.
He doesn’t say anything, but presses a kiss to her forehead before turning to leave.
“When this is all over,” she says aloud, “when it’s all done, we’ll ruin it.”
“When Haymitch figures out how to get us both home, and when we don’t have to ever see another Capitol face again, we’ll ruin it,” her eyes close, “because we will. I want us both to come home.”
“We will,” she hears him whisper in the most resigned way possible. “I promise.”
And with that, the door clicks closed. She watches from the window as he crosses the street, into his own home, and flicks on the light to his kitchen. After that, the want for sleep and relief is too much.
In the morning, when she wakes, a steaming batch of cheese buns is waiting for her on the counter. She is the first to rise, and finds the note with them.
For Our Friendship.
-
They don’t train for another week after that. She hunts with Gale the day she finds the cheese buns, and Peeta cancels the training sessions for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. There isn’t an official notice for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, but it seems as though everyone just understands. They notice the tension when she has lunch with her mother, Prim, and Haymitch. He mentions Peeta by explaining that his excuse was busy season at the bakery, since the 18 year olds are celebrating their conclusion of school.
The first day back to training is an impromptu Sunday session, where Katniss is surprised to see Gale sitting on Peeta’s porch. The two are busy spreading rope and making pairs. There is something resembling small talk, but not much.
Katniss crosses the gravel path and barely wipes away the single tear falling from her eye before Peeta speaks.
“Katniss,” he says. She thinks even Gale can pick up on the tension. “Gale is going to show us some knots today, in case we have to sleep in any trees in the arena.”
“Told him you’re already a pro, Catnip,” Gale responds.
“Well, Gale said there’s one you might not know. Something about it being strong and dependable, but easy to undo when the time comes.”
“Yep, it won’t let you down. You’ll be able to tie it before you ever need to use it, and just use it when you need to. Not something you’ve got to tie on the spot. It’ll hold, and you’ll think you’ll never be able to get it lose, but it’s easier than you’d think.”
Peeta shoots her a look then, and she understands the message he is trying to convey. It’ll be easier for her to let go of him if she never tries to make their bond tighter in the first place. He is saying that it will be easier to let him go than she thinks.
She knows that’s not true.
-
Later, in the grass, she is standing up at a makeshift table while Gale stands across her on the other side. Haymitch and Peeta are at the other, standing in a similar way. Haymitch, being the shortest of the three men, sort of gets lost behind Gale’s shoulders.
“That’s it, Catnip!” Gale says, after she finally ties the perfect knot. “See how easy that was. You’ll use it in the arena, but you’ll be able to use it when you’re home, too, in the woods.”
She just nods, short and curt.
“Now undo it,” he says. And she obeys.
And just when the knot pulls apart so easily, she looks up. Gale doesn’t notice, watching her hands instead, “and you’ll see, too, that this one is great because it’s easy to re-tie it. The rope doesn’t wear down.”
Over his shoulder, she can catch a glimpse, Peeta looking at her. When her eyes catch his, he smiles at her and nods the tiniest bit. It’s all she can do to smile back.
So be it, then. If he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship because he’s afraid of what it’ll do to her. She’ll continue to act the way she always has, unsure and hesitant. It won’t change anything, though. They both know how they feel for the other. Charades and masks and pretending can do nothing to hide it.
She knows that he doesn’t intend to get home. She knows that he will do whatever it takes to make sure she returns to Twelve. But she won’t forget his promise, and somehow, some way. They will. They’ll get back and they’ll come together.
They’ll ruin it.