"Your shots off."
The voice from behind startled him so much that when he went to turn, he caught his foot in the roots of a tree. If it was any serious threat behind him, he would have made out as an easy target, tangled on the ground, half covered in snow with his leg caught beneath the branches.
Gale made his was over to where he lay, held up in a sitting position by his arms. The two didn't make eye contact, Peeta adamantly holding his gaze towards the ground. His breath was visible in the bitter winter air, sharp puffs of vapour appearing and dissipating quickly around him. He didn't care that the snow was slowly seeping through his thick winter gear, he could feel his legs getting wetter and colder the longer he sat. He had enough clothes at his disposal than he knew what to do with now, the thick black hunting pants he wore now would probably never be in use again after today. What a sight it would be, Peeta Mellark, the fearless, powerful Victor, conqueror of anything in his path, Hero of District 12, brought down by nothing but clumsiness and wallowing in his own shame on the forest floor. The Capitol press would eat that up if they ever got a chance to see it.
His hand was well numb by the time he finally gave up his ignorance, pulling it out of the snow behind him and meeting Gale's extended hand. He pulled himself to his feet, dislodging his foot from the roots as he went. Brushing the snow from what left of his dry clothes, he finally met Gale's steely gaze, his eyes surveying everything as a hunters eyes would, but his body was visibly tense and hesitant. They both stood, mirroring stances in the brisk winter chill. Silver eyes met silver eyes, the two young men stood, looking more alike than ever. Thick unkempt dark hair native only to Seam folk tangled with snow, heavy breaths visible in the cool air, wrapped tightly from head to toe in whatever warmth that could suffice a trip to an area like the woods.
"Don't think I've ever seen you shoot like that," Gale mutters, breaking the tense atmosphere that had surrounded the two. Peeta let out a stale laugh, which seemed to calm down Gale to the point where he didn't feel pressured into treading lightly around Peeta, smiling along with him.
Peeta broke his stare, letting his eyes drift to the forest floor and then out over the clearing they were standing near. The sunrise was well over now, the soft yellow hues that broke the tree line when he first arrived that morning faded in with the dull grey that now coated the sky. It would be mid-morning now, and those in the District that didn't make their way to the mines this morning would be waking to ready for another day. It wouldn't be long before he had to be at Haymitch's house, the train for the Victory tour was set to leave for District 11 later that night and he could only guess his mentor had some sort of plan to explain to them.
"Yeah, well my mind hasn't really been on point lately." He trails off his words into silence, the tense atmosphere slowly settling in again after moments of silence pass between the two.
"Haven't seen you out here in a while," Gale perks up, sitting on a fallen log and turning towards Peeta. He pulls a hunting knife he had hidden in his game bag, scratching at the bark and twisting the knife deep into the log.
"No need to come here anymore."
Gale's expression dies down with that, the air still and void of any noise apart from the rustle of branches or the light snowfall. Peeta could tell that Gale was uncomfortable with the way he was acting towards him, quick and hostile, but he couldn't find it within him to dig himself out of the rut he built up in his mind over the past few weeks, even to spare Gale a few moments of himself.
He should be happy Gale even made the effort to talk to him today. It's been weeks since he last saw his old hunting partner, with the two of them finding no time between Gale working in the mines and Peeta's' new role as Capitol Superstar. For a moment, he wants to blame Gale for the lack of communication between the two. Sure, Gale gives up any and all of his days to work in the mines now, but that doesn't mean they can't meet in the woods late at night, or early before the dawn. He's almost sure that Gale hasn't once paid him a visit in Victor's Village since he moved in. Plus, Gale won't even show his face in the District if he knows that Katniss will be with him.
His moment of anger passes quicker than it came, and he scolds himself mentally for even thinking of placing the blame on Gale. How could he? If any of this is anyone's fault, it's him. He's lost count of the days he's spent alone, locked up in his huge mansion, nothing to entertain his thoughts or keep him busy. He takes almost daily walks through the district, down through the town square and into the heart of the Seam. Every time, he walks past Gale's house and sees the silhouette of his family painted against the closed shades, pangs of guilt fill him at the knowledge that he is capable of making their lives so much easier, but his cowardliness and Gale's stubbornness are a terrible mix.
"When does the tour leave?" Gale asks, breaking Peeta from his thoughts. He turns to see Gale, pulling to his feet and turning to leave back down towards the district. Peeta stands and looks at his retreating form for a moment, but when he turns and signals for Peeta to follow him, he grabs his bow and quiver that he discarded near the clearing and breaks into a light jog to catch up to him.
"Haymitch said around dusk," He puffs, breathing heavily from the short run in the winter chill.
"So you're free until later tonight?" He asks, craning his neck around to look at him while they continued along the narrow trail, pushing fallen branches and kicking snow off the path, "It's been a while since you've been back home, I know Posy has been dying to see you for weeks. You should come and stay for a while."
The memories of Gale's family and his own together brought a small smile to his face. They were as much a family could be without actually being blood related. He missed being able to look out his window and see Gale's brothers and sister, as well as his own, running up and down the dirty streets and playing with the other Seam kids, all worries and fears cast aside in their brief moments of childhood innocence. He missed the sound of their conversations over dinner, when the two families would meet to feast on whatever the two boys had managed to hunt in the woods that day. He missed Hazelle Hawthorne's caring ways, how she would be as much a Mother to him as she could when his own was so caught up in grief and agony. He missed how things used to be with Gale.
He sighs before he speaks up again. "I don't think I can. I promised Katniss that I'd help her get ready for the tour today." Gale stops moving for a moment, turning his neck to look at him. Peeta sighs, knowing what's about to come.
"You know, I kind of figured you two would be done with this whole love act by now." He says, the softest tones of anger riding on his words.
"Well, we can't really just back out of it now, can we?"
"You've certainly been very persuasive up until now," he replies, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Peeta closes his eyes and sighs, figuring it best not to provoke Gale any longer, and just prolong the inevitable until after he gets back. The air settles between them again as neither make another attempt to speak, walking in silence through the snow ridden trails back towards the fence.
When the two go to part ways after clearing the fence, Peeta grabs the loose hanging sleeve of Gale's coat and stops him from moving.
"Gale, look. I-"
"Peet, I'm sorry, I don't have time to argue," He says. Peeta sighs, knowing he's not going to get anything more.
"Come find me when you get back." Gale yells over his shoulder as he makes his way back down the beaten paths towards the Seam.
He pushed his way through Haymitch's cluttered hallway, pushing aside the stray clothing and empty bottles and butcher paper littering the floor. Clattering echoes from the kitchen down the hall, and assumes that Haymitch is stumbling around looking for more liquor.
But he hears mumbling from the living room and heads towards there, finding a passed out Haymitch sprawled out on the sofa, lying in a ragged pair of pants and a stained shirt, his hair tangled and greasy in thick black knots.
He sighs to himself. Of course he would pick today to drink himself into oblivion. He moves over towards him, kicking stray bottles from his path.
"Haymitch!" He yells into the mans' ear. Sometimes, if he's lucky, yelling will get him to wake up, but today it won't be enough.
He walks up behind the sofa, and digs his arms down behind the cushion. With some effort, he manages to use enough force to throw his mentor off the couch and land him stiffly on the floor with a thud.
He sighs again when he still doesn't wake up, but the light stirring coming from him is a good sign that he's close. Just a little more encouragement from the bottle should wake him up just fine. And with that, he grabs a nearby half empty white liquor bottle and soaks Haymitch with the substance, causing him to wake in a stupor.
"What the hell, Boy?" He spits when he sees Peeta holding the now empty bottle and the liquor drenching his body.
"Its tour day, and you need to get ready. We have things to go over." He says calmly, dropping the bottle and extending an arm to his fallen mentor.
"And you thought the best way to wake me was to drop me and douse me?" He accuses as he takes Peeta's hand and pulls himself to his feet.
"I tried to call for you, but you were out cold."
He staggers out of the room and Peeta follows closely behind. "I could really use a drink, but you just drowned me in my last bottle," He mumbles to Peeta as they move towards the kitchen.
"I stocked your pantry a few days ago, your latest shipment is in there too."
Haymitch pauses and purses his lips. "You're lucky you have your virtues Boy, because I'm still pissed about what just happened."
Peeta almost laughs at the statement as Haymitch pushes the half-open door to the kitchen open and makes his way in, slumping down against the table.
When Peeta walks in a moment after, it's the first time he sees actually sees Katniss, considering it must have been her he heard when he first arrived.
Her golden hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and the thick, woollen coat she must have worn here was left hanging over one of the dining chairs, leaving her in just a light blue dress.
"Hey," Peeta greets when he walks into the room. Katniss turns to him, giving him a weak, but nonetheless easy-going, pleasant smile in return. "I thought I heard you come in," She says as she places a plate of eggs, sausage and hot grain in front of Haymitch.
He lifts his head at the smell, and eyes the plate of food before looking up and staring at the girl. "I'm not hungry."
Katniss sighs, folds her arms and looks straight at Haymitch. "Today's an important day for all of us, and you're more than likely going to ruin something if we don't fix the problem now," she says, "So here's what you're going to do. You're going to eat this, then you're going to go upstairs and clean up because you smell like a liquor factory," She says, scrunching her nose up at the stench.
"You can thank your boy over there for that," he mumbles.
He looks up at her steely gaze again, holding it. "And then," she continues, "You're going to come down here again and help us get through the rest of the night."
She stares him down as his dull grey eyes hold her own sparkly blue ones. "Eat." She reprimands as she slams down cutlery in front of him. He mutters something under his breath before slowly grabbing the utensils and grudgingly eating his meal.
Peeta lets out a chuckle at the small exchange, causing Katniss to look over at him leaning against the kitchen bench. Their eyes meet momentarily, and he can see worlds swimming in her eyes before she looks away, a small look of sadness on her face. The air in the room grows heavy, and the pair stand awkwardly, not knowing what to do with themselves.
"So you two are still cold shouldering each other, huh? Great progress we've made then." Haymitch mumbles from his seat.
"Shut up and eat your food," Peeta snaps from the other side of the room, causing Haymitch to return to eating and for Katniss to look at him again with hurt in her eyes. He feels a pang of guilt strike his chest, and he opens his mouth to say something to her, but ends up turning and walking to the living room instead.
He slumps down on the couch where he found Haymitch earlier, and runs a hand through his hair, still wet from the snow earlier that morning.
He was not looking forward to the torture that the Victory Tour was ensured to bring, or any of Snow's mind games that would follow suit. If this morning was anything to go by, Haymitch was right about the lack of progress that He and Katniss had made. Sure, in front of the cameras they were a whole other the story. The love struck teenagers painted a fairy tale by the Capitol press. He could act well enough and Katniss conveyed her feelings on screen flawlessly. But behind closed doors they were almost hostile to each other. Still awkward and pained after their harsh meeting after the last games, and every time he would see her after that day he would be filled with guilt over the pained look in her eyes when they would lock eyes over the town square, or through the windows of the Victors Village.
He sighs when he thinks about the fact that this is just the beginning.
A knock on the door frame startles him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see Katniss peering at him curiously. Her demeanour changed immediately when she noticed him looking back at her, and she coughs quietly before speaking.
"Effie called ahead this morning. Wanted me to tell you that they would be here early, to help get the area ready, and Cinna and Portia need to make some alterations to our outfits for tonight." She says quietly, fiddling her hands as she stands in the doorway.
"OK, uh thanks, Katniss." He say. He gives her a soft smile and stands, walking over to the window and propping his hands up on the ledge, looking out over Haymitch's snow covered yard.
It's quiet for a few moments, before he feels Katniss walk quietly and stand beside him, looking out through the window. The two stand there, a relatively comfortable silence between them, opposed to the regular awkward atmosphere.
"You look tired." She says softly.
Peeta hears her speak beside him, and turns his head to see her looking at him, again with that deep, curious gaze locking him in.
"Haven't been able to sleep much. It's hard sleeping in that massive cloud-like bed by yourself when you've gone your whole life sharing a bed just bigger than yourself with someone else," He says quietly, holding her deep blue eyes with his own. Her irises shine with innocence, wonder and so, so many other things that he has trouble naming them.
They find each other just standing, looking at each other for a while, the late afternoon light spilling through the half closed shades.
Peeta is the first to break the contact, sighing and looking down at his feet, running a hand through his hair, dishevelling his dark curls again. "I guess the nightmares don't help too much either, especially when there's no one there to wake you," He finds himself saying, laughing bitterly at his statement. He looks up again to find Katniss' eyes trained on him again, and he feels himself getting drawn back into the luster of endless blue that he always finds there.
"I know, I get them too." She whispers, and he barely hears what she says because he's too busy looking at her.
The pair jump apart suddenly, when they hear a loud crash from upstairs, followed by a muffle, vulgar outburst from Haymitch. Katniss steps back, her eyes trained on her feet, as she makes her way out of the room. "I'll go check on him." She mumbles as she leaves the room.
Peeta sighs, and leans against the window sill he was at before. With a thousand thoughts plaguing his now spinning mind, the best thing he could have done was walked across the courtyard, back to his house, and locked himself in and shut off all the lights, leaving himself to wallow and wonder his house as he had done for so long now. It definitely seemed preferable when he started cleaning all the trash from Haymitch's floor, readying it so that Effie wouldn't be subjected to an aneurysm when she arrived.