It happened on a Sunday. It was a warm summer morning, with the sun rising over the distant tree tops just as Peeta Mellark rose from his sleep. His bed wasn't as comfortable as usual, in fact it wasn't comfortable at all, and as Peeta's eyes and mind adjusted to being awake he realised why this was.
Why had he slept on the floor?
Standing shakily up and shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight that glared through the window, Peeta tried to remember how he could possibly have ended up here. Why had he spent last night asleep on his living room floor? It only takes a few moment, the dizziness in his mind clearing, to realise that this isn't his house. It's Katniss's.
Had he come over last night?
The last thing Peeta could remember was sitting down at his kitchen table. He'd just finished his dinner and had moved on to finishing his book. It was one Effie had sent on the recent shipment train from the Capitol, and though he wasn't particularly enjoying it at least it was better than sitting around with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy his mind. But after that, surely he'd just gone to bed like usual? Could he possibly have been sleepwalking? Shit, what would Katniss do if she woke up and found him in her house? Things between them had been stony in the few months since the end of the rebellion. In fact, they'd barely spoken at all.
And this, thought Peeta, is hardly going to make things any better.
A sharp sting runs up his arm, causing Peeta to look down his hands for the first time. Or rather, what's covering his hands. It's dark red and thick and he hopes to God that it isn't what he thinks it is. He takes a step backwards, and hears a crunching noise beneath his feet. It's a china vase, or at least what's left of one. And over by the door, smashed against the wall, is the table it used to stand on. The more Peeta looks, the worse the situation becomes.
Torn curtains, a deep red stain on the sofa, smashed pieces of furniture, the front door lying open and slightly askew….
"Katniss!" Peeta calls out rushing up the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly through the house. There's no answer though, even as he bangs loudly on her bedroom door before swiftly pulling it open and rushing in.
She's not there.
The bed is made neatly, the curtains are wide open, and her hunting jacket is draped over the back of a chair on which Buttercup is sleeping soundly. The room is entirely undisturbed, a stark contrast to downstairs.
"Katniss!" Peeta tries again, more weakly. He knows for sure this time that there'll be no answer.
He catches sight of himself in the mirror against the far wall. His hair is dishevelled, there's a large bruise forming on his forehead and his previously white t-shirt is now deep red down one side.
Things definitely weren't getting better.
For Haymitch, the morning started in a fairly similar way. He too, had found himself waking up in a place that wasn't his bed, though this wasn't much of a change for him. Over the years he'd grown used to simply sleeping wherever he found himself. The kitchen table was the most common; in fact he hardly ever bothered to go upstairs anymore. Unlike Peeta though, he wasn't awoken by the sunlight. He had the good sense to keep his blinds permanently closed, in an attempt to ward off bright lights and any potential visitors.
On this morning though the blinds failed when it came to the later, and Haymitch was awoken by the sound of his front door being thrust open- the sound of the empty bottles behind the door clanking together awakening him to full alertness.
"Haymitch!" he hears the boy call. Cursing himself for not using the lock on the door, he drags himself up from the table and into the front room.
"What the hell do you want at this ti…" He cuts off before he can even finish the sentence. The boy being here at all was unexpected and unwanted enough, but finding Peeta shaking and covered in blood in his doorway was definitely not Haymitch's idea of a pleasant wake up call.
"You uh…You want to tell me what's going on here kid?" he asks, half hoping that this is some surreal dream. Some side affect of his home-made alcohol perhaps.
"Haymitch…" Peeta suddenly seems to snap to his senses. He quickly comes further into the room., closing the front door firmly behind him.
"I think something's gone wrong"