This is the new story! I'm not going to make is Katniss and Finnick.
Johanna walks right into my bedroom without knocking and presses the space bar on my laptop, which rests on my stomach. That old clunker is burning me because the vent is crappy and can't get out any hot air.
Johanna Kate Mason; my roommate.
"What? Why are you pausing my music?" I ask.
"You need to see this." She says. I grew up with Johanna in Springsteen, New Jersey. After my other half moved clear across the country to Los Angeles, California to start his music career, we moved to New York. I work as a cashier at Target. It bites, but it brings in money for me to room with Johanna, who works at Walmart as the person who is in the jewelry department. I hate my job. Johanna wants to be in movies and I want to be a singer.
Our dream is to be in a movie together, though. We both have two dreams.
We have a shitty apartment but we're happy. One, because we're twenty and don't have to listen to our parents, and two, because we have money and we can buy what we want.
"Okay, can you knock?" I ask.
"Oh fuck of Brainless. We both have the same tits and tacos." She says.
"Taco's?" I repeat.
"Vagina's,"
"Vag-oh!" I start laughing.
"Yeah, yeah, scoot the fuck over. You really have to see this." She says. I sigh and scoot over, closer to the wall. She drops down next to me and lays down, taking my laptop from my burnt stomach and typing "Springsteen" into YouTube, pulling out the cheap dollar tree earbuds from the headphone jack and dropping them on my stomach. "I'm getting you some good earbuds for your damn birthday, Brainless." She says.
"Can you please explain to me what you're doing?" I ask.
"Peeta moved to California because he wanted to be famous right? And he wanted to sing?" she asks.
Peeta Ryan Mellark, my ex-boyfriend. He was my entire world and more. He moved to California before Johanna and I moved to New York City. I revolved around him. After he moved, and we kept losing signal, I got really upset and said "I'm breaking up with you." and then I hung up. He called for weeks.
No, he called for months. He begged and left me desperate voicemails. After nearly a year, the calls and texts lessened and lessened before they stopped completely.
I hate myself for leaving him. I loved him so much and I left him because we were having trouble. That was two years ago.
He doesn't know I kept all the voicemails. He doesn't know I never moved on.
He doesn't know how many songs I've written about him. He doesn't know I'm still broken.
He doesn't know. Johanna does, though. She knows it all. She's heard all the songs; she's comforted me when I cry. She's been there for me.
I never left him. Not really. Maybe physically I did, but my heart didn't. My heart is still connected to him. I bet he moved on.
I miss the nights when I would sneak out and he would take me to that cliff in his Jeep Wrangler. I miss when I begged him not to let me get out of the car. I miss when I would sing to him and he would sing back. I miss him. I love him.
I remember, back when we were in high school, in senior year. He threw rocks at my window at three in the morning and woke me up. I climbed out onto the roof.
Clunk, clunk, clunk…clunk.
"What is that?" I hiss to myself as I throw off my comforter and stand up.
Clunk.
It's coming from the window. I creep forwards and open the window. A rock hits me in the face and I swear under my breath and climb out onto the roof.
"Peeta, what the hell are you doing here?" I whisper.
"Jump down; I want to take you somewhere." He whispers.
"Are you crazy? It's three in the morning, I am not-"
"Please? Please, for me?" Then he gives me that look that makes my heart flutter and my limbs turn to jelly. I sigh.
"Let me get dressed first-"
"Are you wearing shorts and a tank top?" he asks.
"Yes-"
"Do you have a bra on?" he demands.
"Yes but I need-"
"I've got your shoes. Come on baby, jump. I'll catch you, I promise." He begs.
I look back into the house and sigh.
"How am I going to get back in the house?" I ask.
"I'll find a way." He says.
"Fine, you better catch me. I can't fucking believe I'm doing this!" I whisper. He just laughs and opens his arms. I step off the roof and he quickly catches me. He kisses me on the lips.
"Hi," he says as he sets me down.
"Hi," I whisper. He takes my hand and pulls me to his jeep, getting my flip flops from the backseat and buckling me in. He always buckles me in and puts the seatbelt as tight as it goes. I asked him why once and he replies by saying, "I could never live with myself without you. I want to keep you safe with my forever." I whispered "Forever?" and then he promised that we were going to get married one day. I slide on my flip flops and prop my feet up on the dashboard. He links our hands. "So where are you taking me?" I whisper.
"To a tattoo parlor." He replies.
"For what, Peeta, I am not getting a tattoo-"
"You're not. I am," He replies.
"You are?" I repeat.
"Yup, your name, your full name, right here." He says. "Well…not your full name, just Katniss Joy. When we get married your last name will be Mellark, not Everdeen. So I'm getting Katniss Joy tattooed on my arm." He taps his bicep.
"You're crazy. What happens if we break up?" I demand. He snorts.
"That will never happen. You love me, right?" he asks.
"Yes. More than anything." I whisper.
"And I love you. We're in love, why would we ever break up?"
He was my first everything, and I dropped him. We'd dated since we were fifteen. Three years without a single argument and I broke up with him. He wanted to marry me. He got the tattoo in forest green letters that said Katniss Joy. His parents were so pissed off but neither one of us cared.
Fuck me.
"Brainless, come on, don't cry." Johanna says, patting my head. I wipe my eyes on my blanket.
"Sorry…yes, he went to California to be famous." I whisper.
"Well…it worked. He wrote a song. He wrote a song about you."
"No he didn't-"
"It's called Springsteen and you are in the music video. There are more than a million views. He's famous Brainless. He's a one hit wonder. Now everyone knows he's got a ton of songs." She says insistently.
"No Jo, he-"
"I'm serious! Look it!" She clicks on the first link.
It starts and I recognize him even though I can only see his back. He doesn't turn though. He's staring at a house.
He's staring at my old house. My family moved out of that house. The video blurs and splutters into another video, and there's me sitting there.
"Alright then, if you won't answer that, then who is your perfect guy?" he asks me softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The blush that appears on my cheeks is evident. My eyes flick to the camera, and I start laughing.
He smiles that one smile that he only used when it was directed at me. "Like music to my ears." He murmurs.
"What is music to your ears?" I whisper.
"You, your laugh, your voice," He kisses my lips sweetly.
"What's with the camera?" I whisper.
"Nothing, I just love you and want to remember you forever. Back to my-"
"I love you too," I cut him off, making him smile.
"Back to my question," He whispers. "Who is your perfect guy? Or what?" he asks.
"That's easy." I smile. "You, Peeta; you're my perfect guy."
It splutters again, and then it's back to Peeta. He looks at my old house again, and I see him pick up a stone and look at my old bedroom window, clearly remembering the night he got the tattoo. The camera zooms in on it to show that is what he is looking at, and then goes back to him. He sighs and shakes his head, tossing the stone.
He's in a muscle shirt, and the camera is purposely caught that tattoo that says "Katniss Joy" on it.
"Have you seen this before, Brainless?" Johanna asks.
"No, have you?" I whisper.
"Nope, only heard about it." She says.
We turn our attention back to the video.
It starts with a piano playing a fast melody with a guitar and drums in the background, with a picture of me at seventeen in my driveway with cut-off jeans, a tank top and flip flops on. And that ridiculous spray tan that I was obsessed with. Then we're racing down the highway, another video without the noise though, just the music. We're laughing and singing stupid songs. He's drumming on the steering wheel and me on the dashboard.
I was singin' to you, you were singin' to me
I was so alive, never been more free
Fired up my daddy's lighter and we sang, ohStayed there 'til they forced us out
And took the long way to your house
I can still hear the sound of you sayin' don't goWhen I think about you, I think about seventeen
I think about my old jeep
I think about the stars in the sky
Funny how a melody sounds like a memory
Like the soundtrack to a July Saturday night, SpringsteenI bumped into you by happenstance
You probably wouldn't even know who I am
But if I whispered your name
I bet there'd still be a spark
Then it shows a picture of that night. He's sitting in the tattoo parlor and the guy is tattooing him. I'm sitting on his lap. We made another worker take this picture. I remember that clearly.
Back when I was gasoline
And this old tattoo had brand new ink
And we didn't care what your mom would think
About your name on my armBaby is it spring or is it summer
The guitar sound or the beat of that drummer
You hear sometimes late at night
On your radio
The rest of the video is various clips of Peeta and me. One was on the day he left. I'm crying into his chest, but you can't tell. He's rubbing my back, looking close to tears.
Funny how a melody sounds like a memory
Like a soundtrack to a July Saturday night
Springsteen
Springsteen
Whoa Springsteen
Next is screenshots of our text messages.
Katniss: you promise to call me, right Peeta Ryan Mellark?
Peeta: I promise. I love you, Katniss Joy Everdeen; so, so much.
Katniss: I love you too; so, so much.
It flicks through random pictures for the rest of the video as the song drowns out.
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-ohWhoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-ohWhoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-ohWhoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Johanna and I are dead silent.
I can't think of any words to say.
"He still loves you." Johanna whispers. "He didn't give up. He thinks you don't care." Johanna whispers. She shuts my laptop and stands up. "Start packing." She says after a few minutes.
"Packing?" I whisper, fighting tears as the memories come crashing into my heart again like a tsunami into a house.
"Yes, packing. Brainless, we're moving to Los Angeles, California."
I have to admit…I was hysterical while writing this…