Katniss:
Sighing deeply, I rocked my head backwards, feeling the cold, hard concrete hit against it in a soothing pattern. I was bored beyond recognition, constantly checking the time on my mobile and rolling handmade cigarettes to keep my mind occupied. Annie had left me to go off with some guy dressed as a merman, wielding a large rubber trident in his hand. I was contemplating on ringing a cab to get away from this sad excuse of a Halloween gig. Honestly, it had been hard enough for me to try to fit in as the new girl of Panem Secondary School, without the shitty nightlife that came along with it. And what was worse was that even my frigging lighter had committed suicide. Panem will eventually be the death of me, slowly and painfully teasing out my droll life until I join the rest of the social pariahs in this town. Fuck it. At least if I had gone off with someone like Annie had with that hot mermaid guy it wouldn't have been so bad. But this was just bad. My first outing in Panem since moving and I was wishing I was at home watching films, eating chocolate and tucked up in my pyjamas. But Annie had said that it would be worth it, although my hope was diminishing fast. And the nicotine demons in my head were screaming to be satisfied. I had to make a friend or attempt to make one if I was going to last the night alone. If only words weren't such a problem for me…..
Peeta:
Why do I bother going to these gigs? It's friggin' pandemonium here! The music is practically inaudible; girls and boys are shifting the faces off each other, tongues are darting and hands groping and skin showing and everything! Agh! And still the worst was yet to come as I ventured through the darkly lit club as I noticed Annie and Finnick, (who for some strange reason was dressed as a merman) totally and utterly consumed by each other. I smiled at those two, they were both good friends and it had taken Annie a while to open up to him. Tonight must've felt like all of Finnick's birthdays had come at once, she's draped her arms around his neck like ivy and is stroking his hair whilst he strums her waist with his hands, pressing himself against her as their lips tangle together. Purple strobes lights scan my skin, licking up my arms, illuminating the way out to the balcony, which serves as a smoking area. I crave nicotine right now it almost hurts my insides. Struggling through the mass hoards of young adults sucking face is making me light- headed. A foot away from the exit for the balcony is Gale Hawthorne. He's the dreamboat, the one the girls all fancy, just because daddy owns half of town, and maybe he is slightly good- looking with his broad frame, chest hair and the air of mystery that hovers over him. I did not just think of Gale like that, it's just what I have to overhear every day from my friend Delly. On closer inspection of Gale's lady friend, I notice that behind the head of blonde curls is the delicate porcelain face of one, Delly Cartwright, my best friend. I don't need this right now; she's practically my little sister. "Get out Peeta! Get out!" my brain screams at me, the cravings intensify from nicotine withdrawal and I can feel myself as a result. Pushing past the last couple, I make my way onto the balcony and reach into my jeans pocket. Success! I've got one cigarette left, a life raft until this god damn awfulness ends in an hour. There's only a few people out here; a couple of zombies making out on a bench. A red devil drags a girl with fairy wings back onto the dance floor. And that's it, apart from and a girl standing against a wall. She's not dressed up but there's something about her. There's an edginess that comes off her in waves. An attitude that's adapted a hardened approach to people, probably from being unique and different to everyone else. This girl was ostracised and I was going to find out why….
Katniss:
Kill me now. Dear God I can't actually stand this anymore. Not without my nicotine. There's hardly anybody out here anyways, just me, the zombies and a guy dressed in an apron with a baker's hat concealing the mass of blonde hair that grows underneath it. That's it. The air is cold for an October night, and I shudder involuntarily at the breeze that ghosts the back of my neck and hold onto myself to keep warm. I lower my head, letting my hair close the gap between the nape of my neck and the cold, admiring my black stiletto in the process. I didn't dress up like Annie and the rest of this place had. When I'm sufficiently warmer, I tilt my head back to the security that the concrete wall gives me and spy the baker boy looking at me intensely. He's cute; I'll certainly give him that, as he shyly glances down at his feet to avoid my gaze. He's taller than me, even in heels I'm no match for him and his broad frame. His arms are sculpted too, this boy works out. A lot. He looks like he could pick me up and throw me over his shoulder with remarkable ease, yet something in his manner and the way he avoids eye contact suggests that he'd rather give me a bear hug than show off his strength. He's fumbling around in his jeans for something that I recognise as a lighter. Result! Baker Boy smokes too! The muscles at the corners of my mouth pull into a smile before I can stop myself as I search my own pockets for my cigarette before popping it into my mouth. When I look up again, Baker Boy, the space invader, is standing right beside me, offering me a light. Nicotine demons finally satiated, Panem might not be such a bad place to be if this boy is here. Upon further inspection, I notice something else about him that I hadn't before. He's not cute at all…. He's somewhat striking, beautiful even. And his shyness adds to his beauty, as if he isn't aware of it at all. But he can't tell that from my stony faced façade. I can't immediately start thinking like that. But I can't help feeling the honesty that shines through his sapphire blue eyes as he tells me his name. Peeta. Of course it would be something bread related I think, with that costume he has on. But those eyes are perfect, too perfect in fact. His voice is soft, yet there's a manly deepness to it, even in whispers as he leans in closer on account of my deafness in this mad house. I don't think he'd ever raise his voice, even in anger he'd still be controlled yet soft. His closeness encourages my mind to wander further as he tickles my ear with his breath, telling me about school or something. My hormones are doing the thinking for me and it takes all I can muster not to press myself against him to experience the feel of his arms around me. Why am I like this? I don't know this stranger, and yet I'd be perfectly happy for him to hold me close against his muscled chest whilst his breath nuzzles my ears, in between the sweet nothings he whispers to me and the kisses he plants on my neck. I'm thinking not with my brain but with…something else. Which can't give off a good impression, but the way that Peeta is gazing into my eyes tells me that he too is wondering in a world of his own, and has forgotten about the cigarette in his hand, which is dangerously close to burning a hole on the denim of his thigh. It don't react soon enough and he jumps in agony as the embers singe his flesh, leaving a hole in the denim and an ugly open sore that will take forever to heal and eternity to fade away. I've handled these burns before, and without questioning, I grab Peeta by the arm and drag him to the ladies bathrooms.
Peeta:
I grabbed the chance when I she took out the cigarette with no lighter and boy was it worth it. After thanking me, she asked my name.
"It's ...um...Peeta..." I spluttered.
"Like the bread?" she giggled and blew smoke lightly in my face, finishing my sentence for me, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth as she took another pull.
"Yeah! I never heard that one before!" I added, smiling alongside her as I sparked up.
I asked a few trivial things but didn't really focus in on the answers; I was too engaged in her face to listen carefully enough. Her eyes are these wondrous grey colours that quietly demand attention and respect. She's got long dark chocolate coloured hair that ends at her waist and small nimble hands with thin fingers that I can only imagine have been through a lot on account of the faded, silvery scars and bitten skin that surrounds her nails. Her name is Katniss and she is so very different to anybody I have ever met. She's not bubbly and sickly sweet like the girls at school, but rather refined and elegant in her leather jacket and high heels that exaggerate her toned legs. Even the way she smokes a cigarette is just so utterly cool and sexy.
"When did you arrive in town?" I ask, my voice competing with the guitar amps inside.
"What?" she yells back, unable to hear my words.
I can feel myself wanting….longing after this girl like nothing before. She's a mystery to me and perhaps my dick and my brain have swapped places during this time but all I can see are her perfect eyes, drinking me and my nonsense in. I lean into her, my breathing growing more and more erratic as I reach her right ear. She even smells fantastic, although she smokes like me. It takes every ounce of me not to touch her; not to run my lip over the rim of her ear as I whisper incoherent things to her. Not to see how my breath tickles her and causes goose pimples to rise on the skin of her throat, which looks so soft and smooth with the occasional freckle dotted here and there. Not to curl my hands in her hair, or feel her lungs expand through her ribcage as I fuse my mouth against hers. Chance would be a fine thing, yet Katniss doesn't seem to communicate too well through words. Perhaps actions give a better response. I look at her and she looks back at me with something different in her eyes this time. Wonder? Fright? Desire? It's a mix up of the three I think, but I'm willing to step up to the mark and be brave enough to lean into her. Before I know it, Katniss is expertly pulling my hand whilst I hop in agony through the mob of people on the dance floor, and gliding us for the bathrooms. She drags me inside the ladies as much as I protest I can't really walk that well and my attempts at playing it cool out on the balcony have just led to me burning my pants, not with desire, but with my own cigarette. At least it's a start. And a good start is always half the work as my dad always says, yet I had never tested that theory. I never had a need to…..until now.
Katniss:
I'm really trying hard to maintain composure with Baker Boy in the ladies, but the 'accident' is just too funny to control. Something tells me that I'll be the new juicy scoop of gossip in school on Monday. Could the other bathroom dwellers be any clearer? Eventually, the remaining girls leave and I instruct Peeta to sit on the counter where the sinks and mirrors are. I scan the room for a distraction that will give me the necessary ten minutes that I need to patch him up and prevent a nasty infection from happening. I find a sign for the door that should warn off people and close it behind me. And then another thought hits me, like a deer that's caught in the headlights of a truck. I'm alone with Peeta. There is no-one else here in the bathroom, with its crimson painted walls and golden magnolia coloured towels and soft velvet interiors that scream luxury, but us. No. You've only just met him, Katniss. Why do you always think like this when you make a new friend that's a boy? My mind barks. Putting on the façade again, I click my heels towards Peeta, carefully not showing any slight hint of discomfort on my part. That is until I see him on top of the counter, his jeans pushed down towards his shins, revealing the injury and a pair of boxer shorts that shy it by half an inch. Someone in heaven has a peculiar sense of humour putting me in this predicament. Peeta shifts his leg so that it crosses a sink, and I turn on the cold tap and let the water run into the wound. He twitches uncomfortably at the first feel of it, but it gradually becomes more soothing for him.
"It feels better", he says, relief spreads in his voice and he breathes deeply, looking in the mirror at my reflection.
Letting the water flush out the remaining ash, I tried to plan how I would bandage the wound, as toilet paper wouldn't work and we were running out of options. Hesitantly, I grabbed a few sheets from a cubicle, ran them under the cold tap with that awful antibacterial soap stuff that sits beside the sink. It would have to do for now. He winces at the pain as I press the mound of soggy paper into his swollen thigh, clearing the last bits of ash and what else from his skin until blood is left. Peeta is a good patient, he doesn't complain, and lets me get on with trying to fix him. The only problem is that I'm not entirely sure how to fix him. The water will clean the wound but it won't stop the bleeding which is flowing like a stream down his thigh, onto my hands, under my fingernails. I wonder does my face show what I'm thinking, yet when I look up, Peeta is staring at me, the dim lights that hang over the mirror illuminating the golden hair on his head, making him look angelic. I smile crookedly, wondering how I am going to stop the bleeding. He's got a shirt on but I think I've stripped him enough for one day. Sweeping my hair out of my eyes, I'm trying to focus, but failing.
Peeta:
She's stressing out over this, it's not as bad as she thinks, but I don't think that Katniss is the kind of girl who does what she's told. I'm sore, and the cold water hurts at first, but gradually numbs the pain. She's working away at my leg, pressing drenched toilet paper against it, concentration painted on her face, her fingers brushing her long hair out of her eyes. Dedicated and beautiful at the same time. She looks up at me, and catches me smiling at her, her eyes wide open and worried. Her hands are covered in my blood and it doesn't seem to cease at all. Then it hits me, Katniss is looking to stop the bleeding somehow. I rip the long sleeve of my shirt from my arm and wind it round my thigh, my hand brushes her hand a little and she stares at my hands as I secure the sleeve. Pushing my hands away, she takes over, her nimble fingers working quickly to fashion a makeshift bandage of toilet paper before pressing it into the wound and covering it with the sleeve of the shirt, before tying it in a double knot. It's better than anything I could've done. Satisfied, she smiles at her finished efforts and looks at me, her lips curled up at the corners into a grin. I hitch my jeans up around my waist again and the vessels in my cheeks flush red.
"Thank you, Katniss. I'm sorry for this, I know it's weird and awkward and if there's anything that I can do to help you at school or anyth…."I don't get time to finish my sentence.
Katniss has, in a blindingly fast movement, pressed her lips against mine. Dear God, this girl is hot. SMOKIN' HOT! She's so soft, her hands are gently steadying my shoulders, and maybe she's scared that I'll fall off or something. Her hair bristles against my cheek, and her hand ghosts up my neck to feel the stubble on my jawline. Her eyes are closed, and I notice the little freckles dotted along the bridge of her nose and cheeks. The kiss deepens and my hands drift from the bench to her waist, strumming her ribcage as her breathing grows and I can't hold back any longer, she's more than just some girl to me. I hoist myself off the bench and stand beside her, her eyes widen as our lips part, but I let my arms encircle her, cradling her to my chest and she instantly relaxes. Screw the pain in my leg; this is a new torture that I can tolerate. I look down at her, brushing a strand of wispy brown from her face, pushing it behind her ear and smile, before leaning in for the second time and brushing my lips against hers. She just oozes loveliness, her soft hair in my hands as she traces the plains of my back, before tracing my bare shoulder, and following down my bicep, feeling my muscles contract around her more. Curiously, I trail my lips away from hers, and travel steadily down her neck, the breath in her throat catches and I get a little sigh from her for my efforts causing me to smile against her skin, before pressing another into her.
"You're welcome Baker Boy", she grins as my face meets hers.
I'll never understand women. I don't think I ever want to, though, and I can feel my mouth smiling that ridiculous Cheshire cat grin that spreads like wildfire. She can call me Baker Boy any time she wants, she's worth it. Here, right now, those perfect eyes are all I can see.
Katniss:
I do it before my confidence goes. Before the nerve to do it fades away and never comes back. I genuinely like this boy, and feel that after causing him harm, I should at least do something good. But that's not entirely the truth either. I feel that thing again…that want to be held by him, to be touched by him, to wrap myself up in him again. I don't know what it is about Peeta, he is after all, just a boy, but there is something…something attractive in the way that he carries himself. The way he came over to me in my nicotine enraged time of need, when I wasn't big enough to come to him. Peeta looks out for people, regardless if he knows them or not, a truly admirable thing to consider, seeing as he didn't know how I would've reacted. And now I was looking after him, by cleaning his leg up, yet I felt that he needed more. He deserved more and I owed him for it. That's why I did it. That's why I kissed him. I cut him off half way through his sentence and pressed myself against him cautiously in case I hurt his bad leg. But I was not prepared for the aftermath of my advances, as Peeta slides off the bench, my eyes peel back as our lips part thinking that the kiss was too much, before Peeta leans back down and pulls me flush against him. My breathing is shaky, my heart ricocheting around my chest like a pin- ball machine and I feel light headed as his feather light lips trace the skin of my neck. He wants me too; I can feel him pouring himself into the moment, just as much as I am. Focus Katniss, you need to focus, my head says, but it's so hard when all I can concentrate on is how his mouth moves the same way as mine, the stubble of his jawline rubbing abrasively against the palm of my hand, his soft hair curling in my fingers as he delicately traces my ribs, feeling my lungs contract and expel air.
"Ooohh…."
Did I really just moan at his touch? It spurns Peeta on; I can feel his teeth skimming my collarbones, barely nipping them. What a tease! Who knew Baker Boy had game? I clutch his hair tighter, and hear the breath catch in his throat as my nails claw the back of his neck, his arms contracting around my waist tighter than before. One. A kiss slowly planted on my mouth, his lips tugging on mine. Two. The delicate feel of Peeta's body completely pressed against mine, flooding me with waves of warmth and desire. Three. His hands; one tangled in my hair, the other cupping my jaw whilst his thumb caresses my cheek in small, soft circles. These three things sets me alight and I'm glowing in the dimly lit room. I don't want this moment to ever end, I doubt I'll ever feel this torturous hunger that's almost too much to bear. But only almost. And this was meant to be about me doing something nice for Peeta as a means of making it up to him for saving me on the balcony. Reality had set in, and drifting down to the world that consisted of the bathroom and of the gig, I had forgotten to respond to his attempt at a thank you. With agonizing pain, I kissed him one last time on his swollen, cherry coloured lips that had endured my more vigorous and rougher kisses and smiled shyly before saying:
"You're welcome Baker Boy", and he positively beams at me through hazy eyes and a curtain of blonde curls that have fallen into his eyes, making him look even more irresistible.
How can I give him up when he's looking at me with such an adorable smile playing upon his lips, and his eyes mirror what he's feeling internally? Peeta takes my hand in his, looking down at our fingers intertwined as his thumb rubs over my knuckle. He doesn't say anything, but the silence is not an awkward one. If anything its comfortable, reassuring, safe even. Peeta leads me out of the bathroom, our hands still linked together and we walk alongside each other on the packed dance floor as a band play a song I know. We're still holding hands, I still matter to him. After all, I am the girl who put him on fire….literally.
Peeta:
Instead of fleeing from the dance floor and couples, I'm beginning to embrace it, just like I'm embracing Katniss, with my hands hugging her against my body, as she leans her head on my chest. I spy Finnick out of the corner of my eye, he's still cradling Annie as his eyes flicker up and meet mine, a knowing grin splayed across his face as he sees Katniss in my arms. I don't want this to be the first and last time I hold her like this. Feel her breathing through her shirt. Taste the nicotine from her lips. Addictive and intoxicating, she has no idea of the hold she already has on me, and for that I can only promise myself to watch over her, look out for her if nothing comes of this. Katniss doesn't seem to be the doting girlfriend type, and even if she isn't, I can never let her go away from me now that I've let her in. I don't want to forget this. I don't want to forget her. I motion for one of her hands, to hold in mine and leave the other resting on my shoulder. Her head looks up at me in wonder at what I'm attempting to do. When she realises, her fingers slide against mine and lock into place perfectly, as she flashes that layer of pearly whites at me once more. I lean into her, pressing my forehead against hers, feeling the flutter of her eyelashes catch against my own. In this moment, there is no one her and me. Me and her. Lost in a state of bliss and….something a little deeper, but not quite as deep as love, but maybe just as powerful. My hormones came through for once, I think, smiling to myself at my private joke. Her hand moves from my shoulder to the hair at the back of my neck, and I start drowning in her eyes again. She saves me, before I lose myself and kisses me lightly on the mouth, so lightly that I can feel the corners of her mouth curl and form into a smile as I sway us to and fro with the music. And for this one moment in time, I feel as if there is balance in the world, as if I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, holding her near in case I ever need to help her the way she helped me. In case she ever needs me to extinguish the flames should they envelope her. There's nothing left, no need for words, the music already speaks for me, and I can honestly say that in this moment, with Katniss, there's nothing more perfect in the world than her in my arms, as the last song echoes through the walls…
"Thoughts read, unspoken, forever in vow,
And pieces of memories fall to the ground.
I know what I didn't have so, I won't let this go,
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you…"