A light blinking on the dash shakes me from my reverie and then the ship shudders and jolts me into a straight-backed sitting position rather than being slouched over onto my neighbors shoulder. They just turn to the other side however and resume sleeping, and though I try and try, I can't and it's a shame because I haven't slept in a long time. I don't dare peek out the window and I suppose that's best, because seeing the barren land of the surface of D13 compared to the lush land of the Capitol would probably just throw me back into a dreary mood, and I wouldn't want that. It's going to be my first time back in three years after the initial escape and I'm praying the familiar faces I missed everyday had still stayed the same. It was an unusual wish seeing as I had changed, drastically. My bright blonde hair was replaced by drab hanging sheets of an off grey-yellow color, and my full face was now defined, my eye sinking, my cheeks hallow and sad. I was taller but still much too skinny and my placid work uniform from the Capitol hung off of my bones like damp rags. One would think I would become a nurse of sorts, but the new medicines were foreign to me, no one cared for the things myself and my mother did, so I tried some jobs. The flowing gray skirt came to my knees, and began halfway up my stomach. My blouse is the smallest size and still it hangs off my slight frame, the sleeves rolled up and my tiny arms sticking through like sticks, never adorned with jewelry. My heels, however, have been replaced by my tough combat boots from when I was in the military and heavy woolen socks, heels never would have lasted in the cold, frigid air. My warm, fur-lined coat is laid on the floor, folded neatly because the flying ship is warm, much too stuffy.
We arrive shortly after this, bumping down onto some barren landing strip and the few off us that arrived are hustled into a small compartment in the ground which later reveals itself to be an elevator and down we go. I'm not prepared for what I'll see beyond the sliding doors, but I inhale anyways and hold my breath for fear I might cry and close my eyes. But what I see is worse than what I expected, first there's my mother, tears streaming down her gentle face, and then there's the Hawthorne's, standing tall and proud, all showing different emotions.
I'm sixteen now, but I feel ages old staring at these people who are barely recognizable, those who used to look like home. There are distinct traits that let me know who they are, and I soon realize someone is missing, someone important.
"Welcome home sweetheart, how have you – ". I cut her off and she looks rejected, but we'll have a lifetime to catch up now, and I have more pressing issues to attend to.
"Where's Rory?" my voice is hurried and filled with worry, I'm used to losing people and his missing face leads me to think the worse.
I can see his mother looking around with a startled expression; I can tell she didn't know he was missing either. It sooths my heart a little but I step forward and fix her with a look that could kill. She mumbles something about him being in his room in the boy's dorm, room 137, it has a dent in it so it shouldn't be hard to find. I ask my mother which way and she points, her tears now dried, her face showing pain from my obvious ignorance, she notices I've changed and I don't care, in all honesty.
At first I ran, and then a feeling washed over me, dread, so I slowed to barely a crawl. I had sent a letter saying I was to arrive, and now it was apparent that he didn't want to see me, my perfect Rory didn't want to greet me, how sad. A second feeling came over me and I stopped in my tracks, regret. Why had I left to work at the Capitol, I had such a good reason before, but now I couldn't even remember what it was. Shit.
I found myself at room 137 shortly after, and heard the faint noise of a radio, telling me he was inside. I paused a moment and ran a hand self-consciously over my hair, realizing nothing could fix it I raised a hand to knock.
Rap-rap.
At first I don't hear movement, then a loud crash, the radio cuts off and the scuffling of feet can be heard. The door swings open and I come face to face with a boy that was no longer a boy. I'd forgotten he was now seventeen, he looked so much like Gale now it was hard to look, but hard not to stare.
"Mum, I told you I'm not coming –" He stops and falters a moment before clearing his throat and moving to close the door. That of which I can't allow so I throw my hand out and before it can be crushed, the door opens fully again and he stares me down, his emotions unreadable.
"Primrose."
"Rory." We're strangely formal and I hate it, I want to throw my arms around his neck and hug him close but it doesn't seem like he'll let me.
"Welcome to District 13, I guess." He shrugs, but doesn't invite me inside.
"I had a wonderful welcoming committee, our families were there." I throw in a cold tone just to see if it registers some emotion, but it hurts me more than him. Shit on this day.
He stands there, poised and statuesque. He's taller now too, of course since it's been three years, and his hair is cut in a buzz cut, something I assumed he would hate. He's wearing a tight grey shirt and it shows off taut muscles, and a broad chest. He's paired it with khaki pants and he's standing in his socks, his toes curling and uncurling. He reaches up to scratch his head and his muscles twitch, his jawline still steady and broad-set. I envy his looks, I changed into a drab girl from the capitol and he looks divine, as well as ass-kickingly strong. I push past him into him room and take in my surroundings. It looks like it's just for him and it strikes me as odd, wouldn't he want to room with his family, but instead he chose to live on his own, how strange. It's bare and his bed sheets are the only ounce of color in the room, a deep royal blue, probably dyed by his mother at her job. Itake a seat on his bed and he saunters over to a chair in the corner, and buries his face in his hands. Until now he had done such a good job at being ignorant, but if Icould press further, maybe we could talk.
"How've you been, Rory?"
"Fucking swell, you?" I cringe at his rude language but he doesn't look up so I answer him, without the sarcasm I detected in his voice.
"The Capitol was pretty, but pretty awful as I suspected. My job paid well but it got boring, so I came home. I spent a year in the military but I didn't like it, I almost got shot, it was unnerving. A month ago I decided to go home, I did and I saw Katniss and Peeta, they're well if you were wondering. Peeta's fully recovered now and Katniss is fitting in well, opening herself up a bit more. She offered for me to stay with her but I wanted to come here with my mom and your family, it seemed right." I sigh, looking to him for a response, he shifts in his chair. "I missed you so I came looking, and here I am."
This gets his attention and he stands so quickly the chair falls open, scraping the wall, but he doesn't look to see. He looks angry, or rather, he is angry. He explodes in a fury and all I can do is wait this out, like a fierce storm he opened up to me.
"I thought we were friends! And then you go and leave us all for the fucking Capitol, how cruel do you have to be? You saunter here like you expect a warm welcome, well too fucking bad because you don't deserve it, and you're wasting my time!" He sits down exasperated then after going on for several more minutes, and he looks sad, real sad, almost like he could cry.
"You look different, but I suppose I look different too." I whisper, as I stand to go over to him, he doesn't look up and I run my hand over his head.
"Your hair was so nice and soft, why'd you cut it?" He still gives me no response.
I take his hands and lean down in front of him, begging him to look at me. Soon, after what seems like ages, he looks up and his eyes brim with tears that don't match his hardened face and calloused hands.
"I'm sorry for leaving while you were stuck underground, but you have to understand, I didn't want to be around all the pain." He knows what I'm referring to, and I know he understands why I left while Katniss and Peeta were recovering and why I left him and my mother alone.
"Posy and Vick missed you." Code word for him, I accept this and pull him to his feet.
He hesitates a moment before smashing me against his chest and I melt, he mumbles a comment about how thin I am and I nod into his chest, knowing he won't accept any excuse. He smells of gunpowder and cinnamon, a strange combination but I lean up and kiss his jawline, squeezing him tighter.
"I missed my best friend everyday" I whisper into his collarbone, not wanting him to know I kept a picture of him on the dingy mirror in my small apartment, every day for three stinking years I stared at it, missing home.
We aren't disturbed for a long time and we stay like that, holding each other, making up for time lost. He squeezes me tighter every so often and I brush my fingers along his shoulder blade. It feels nice and I could stay there forever, held in his arms.