Hey:)
So I'm 19 today! Happy birthdays all round!:)
This is my one shot for complicatedness…hope that it's okay ish and also kills two scenarios with one stone (the kitchen with Delly and the conversation between Katniss and Haymitch over Peeta's sex life). Anyways, enjoy and Review as always, are highly appreciated!
"Katniss, please, sit down…"
"Haymitch… what's up?"
Oh Boy, how am I meant to break it to her gently that I not only need her and the boy to act all lovey dovey around each other again for the Victory Tour when Peeta is saddling up half of the girls in District Twelve, like a team of polo ponies, eager for the ride.
As Katniss sits herself down in front of the fire, facing me, as I decant single malt scotch whiskey into a glass from a crystal vessel that it harbours, the fingers of my other hand pinch either side of my nose as my eyelids shut ; trying to think of something smart to say. How can I break this to her? Is there an easy way to tell a girl that the boy who she secretly loves is that screwed up that he's on an endless downward spiral of self-destruction?
How can I tell her that I saw Peeta sprawled on top of Delly Cartwright; her legs hanging off the edge of the kitchen table, their mouths glued together, and his hands holding hers above her head, his hips grinding into hers during their antics? I hadn't intentionally planned on spying on the boy, but the scene in the kitchen had caught my attention too much to interrupt. Part of me felt exuberant, delighted even for him, the kid deserved some sort of normal return and balance to life after the emotional ordeal of the Games. Or rather, the emotional ordeal that credited Katniss with his survival, but also left Peeta has a shell of his former self. The guilt courses through me at the thought of our game plan…
"Make the crowd love you Katniss, that's how you'll survive…"
"But Haymitch, I can't… I'm not like…"
"Then you learn how to make them… even if it means losing a bit of yourself… just survive Katniss… even if that means using the most dangerous weapon in your arsenal…"
"What?"
Her voice falls on the last syllable.
"…Love, Katniss, is stronger than hate… I'm saying that, if you were to… connect on an emotional level with Peeta…"
Enough flowery shit, she needs it straight.
"Look, Katniss, everyone in the Capitol is a sucker for a good love story… and I need to keep the pair of you safe whilst in the Arena… even if it's just for show…we'll even fill Peeta in on it…"
Although the boy had already told me that he was a goner… and everything had seemed so easy that way…
And now how can I say to a damaged, scared and messed up teenage girl that the boy who claimed to love her was actually managing perfectly well for himself, with the help of other girls? Girls who aren't Katniss. Girls who are a quick fix to the irrevocable gap that she left in his chest; the scars of both emotional and physical agony that he had endured for her survival; for her sake…all out of love. Girls, who are disposable pleasures, and not meaningful pursuits; girls like Madge Undersee. Sure, she's the Mayor's daughter, and I meant what I said when Peeta was over, about wanting to get a leg across her if I was young again, but apart from boobs and legs, there isn't much to be explored beyond the physical aspects of her character. It only happened once, that carnal adventure, I mean.
I should mention to Peeta for future reference that I don't particularly relish the view of him chasing a half-naked Madge up the stairs, their clothes like breadcrumbs leaving a trail all along the floor of Peeta's room. At that point, I'd seen enough to know that the kitchen had been enough for one sexual encounter for young mister Mellark. I did see her slip out an hour and a half later, hair tousled, skirt crumpled from where it had been yanked up over her thighs. And now, the guilt burns brightly from within, as realisation hits me that it was my fault for this. However much they blamed each other for the fucked up messes that their lives had become, I was ultimately at the epicentre of it all. And now I had to tell Katniss, a kid who was just as lost and confused as Peeta, just as terrorised and scared, that the Victory Tour required the union between them to be genuine and sincere in the eyes of not only the other districts, but also Snow…
Her eyes are wide with curiosity; the anticipation of the last few minutes has been building up.
Spit it out, Abernathy. Spit it out while you still can. Taking a deep breath, and a slug of the scotch, the flood gates open before I can control them…