So, here's my next Everlark one-shot written for promptsinpanem on tumblr. I like this one better than the last one, Thank You, Sir, but I've always been biased towards the twenties. Anyways, enjoy!
Katniss Everdeen was not supposed to be at a party. Even more so, she was not supposed to be at this party, drinking the night away. But it was the twenties, she was young, and she had every right to do what she wanted.
Instead of thinking about how she was supposed to be home in her boring little apartment, she just laughed and took another swig of her gin.
"This is the life," she crooned and shook her long hair loose of its braid.
"You bet-ski," replied her friend Madge with a giggle. "Ooh, who's the new boy? He looks posi-tute-ly edible."
Katniss looked through the mass of dancing bodies until she found who Madge was talking about. A blond boy was laughing amidst the crowd, his blue eyes twinkling. His suit was oddly rumpled around one leg, as if it didn't fit quite right there, but Katniss wasn't worried. She'd seen her fair share of odd clothes, and this definitely didn't qualify.
She stood up and brushed off her beaded dress. "I'm gonna go talk to him," she declared. She pushed through the crowd, careful not to spill her drink, until she reached the boy.
"Hello there," she said. "Swell party, isn't it?"
"It sure is," the boy let out a low whistle. "Never seen nothing quite like it."
"Well, Delly can sure go all out. You want a drink?" Katniss held her glass out to him, but the boy shook his head. "Anyways, I'm Katniss. And you are?"
"Peeta," the boy said. "Peeta Mellark."
"Nice t'meetcha, Peeta Mellark. You're not from around here, are you? No? Well, me and Madge were just gonna go walk around, see the city at night," she lied, "d'you wanna come with us?"
"Okay," Peeta replied. "I just need to grab my coat. I'll meet you at the front door in five."
As he walked off, Katniss squealed. She wasn't sure where this spurt of courage had come from. She'd probably had a bit too much giggle water. She'd pay for it in the morning, but right now the boost of energy was exactly what she needed.
"I'm taking off. I need to check on Prim," she told Madge, pecking her on the cheek. "See ya later-ski!"
Peeta stood by the door, taking in the crowd. Young men and women were laughing, which he could do, drinking and smoking, which he wouldn't, and dancing, which he couldn't. These were young, healthy people with friends and two working legs, their whole lives ahead of them. He sighed. Suddenly, he felt someone grab his arm.
"C'mon, slowpoke. Let's go!" Katniss cried, pulling him out the door.
Outside it was cool and quiet, a stark contrast from the smoky haze of the party they had just left. Katniss pulled him along, silent except for the occasional "hurry up, mister!" until they reached a bridge overlooking a canal.
Katniss hopped up on the wall of the bridge, but Peeta just leaned alongside it. No need to test his balance here.
"Isn't it just beautiful out here?" Katniss asked. "It's my favorite place to go at night and think. I like to watch the boats. Their lights are so funny, the way they just bob along the water like that, so free. They can go wherever they want; there's no limit for them. God, I wish I could do that. Wouldn't you love to be a boat, Peeta?"
"I'd never really thought about it," he said, and she was quiet.
They sat there like that for a while, both of them just staring into the water.
"Peeta?"
"Yeah, Katniss?"
"Where are you from?"
He didn't want to think about this right now. He'd come out here to escape what had happened. Of course, looking down at his pant leg flapping in the wind was a constant reminder.
He didn't want to talk about the bright glaring lights of the city stopping you from sleeping, how he'd gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and how they'd turned on him, the joy on Cato's face as he'd dragged his knife into Peeta's leg. He didn't want to remember the pain as the smog of the city filtered into the wound, the cold sneer on Clove's face as she watched his struggle, and the screaming of his brother when he'd found him lying by the stoop of their building in the morning. He could bear to remember the little sun-filled bakery on a corner, with its smell of baking bread and cinnamon, but with it came his mother's shrieks as she beat him senseless. No. He wouldn't remember.
"Oh, I'm from nowhere," he said.
"Nowhere, eh? Everyone's from somewhere," Katniss replied. "I'm from here, my sister's from here, Madge's from here, you're from not-here. That's somewhere."
"Yeah, I suppose it is."
Peeta looked down for a second, staring at the void in his body made by being from not-here. It was amazing what being from not-here could do. When he looked up, he saw Katniss standing on the wall of the bridge, her dark hair flowing behind her. She was one of the few girls he knew who hadn't bobbed her hair. It was refreshing, actually, to find someone who was different, so truly herself.
"Wheee!" she squealed, arms outstretched.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" Peeta asked.
"Maybe a little," she responded, staring down into the canal.
"Well, come down from there," Peeta said.
She didn't seem to have heard him. "Do you ever think about jumping, Peeta? Do you ever just want to get away from here, as far away as possible? Is it ever just too much sometimes?"
All the time.
"Katniss, really. Come down."
She was silent for a moment, before turning. "No," she said, the giddy light gone from her eyes. Her face was raw emotion, pain and terror. Peeta wondered what she'd seen, what had left her so broken. He knew the scared look in her eyes, had seen it in his own so many times.
He watched her begin to step backwards, and swooped in, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her back onto the bridge. As she blinked confusedly at him, he leaned forward and kissed her.
He didn't expect her to kiss back, but she did. She was soft and warm, but sharp, all elbows and knees. It was a bittersweet reminder that nothing could be perfect. Every good thing came with pain.
He pulled back, looking into her sobered face. She was someone new. She was no longer the giggly flapper he'd met at a party.
"Hello," he whispered.
"Hello," she responded, her voice soft and low.
"I'm broken, too, Katniss," Peeta shifted his pant leg just enough for the metal of his prosthetic to catch the light of the moon. "We all are, and we have to live with it."
"I know," she replied, pulling down her glove to reveal a rippling scar about the size of an apple on her forearm. "I'm broken, and I'm going to live with it."
He took her damaged arm, the most beautiful thing about a beautiful girl, and led her down the bridge. "Let's take a walk," he said. "I want to tell you my story."
What did you think? Was it okay? Review review review review!