a/n: i don't know how this happened or how i got here, but somehow, i ended up planning & writing a super a/u three-shot last night. this is my very first attempt at first-person and it's truly awful (first and last attempt :x) so please do bear with me. enjoy! xx
as usual, characters not mine and lyrics/title are from Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers
When we were younger we thought
Everyone was on our side
Then we grew a little bit
And romanticized the time I saw
Flowers in your hair
My eyes flew open, my heart beating too rapidly in my chest which was already constricting too tightly. My hands flew to my forehead on their own accord, finding the jagged scar that tore into my hairline, droplets of sweat already forming around it.
Despite the extravagance of the room – an extravagance I wasn't used to – I felt suffocated. I could hear my mother's light snores from her bed only a few feet from mine, and Prim's shallow breathing filling the room.
Trying not to wake either of the two as I slipped out of bed, I tip-toed to the sliding door on the opposite side of the room, drawing in a long breathe as soon as the crisp, cold air hit my lungs.
That image – the flipped over car and orange and red flames – haunted me, pushing me further into the dark, lonely abyss I've lost the ability to crawl out of. My palms rubbed over my prickling arms, my breath still coming out in short, ragged huffs. I reminded myself to breathe and clutched my arms closer, trying to ward off the biting wind as I mindlessly thumbed the familiar numbers on my phone.
Gale picked up on the third ring, his voice groggy and gruff as he grunted into the phone.
"Good morning to you too," I said into the phone in a hushed tone, managing sarcasm despite my current state.
"Nightmare?" He asked without pre-amble, though I didn't really expect one 3:12 in the morning.
I mumbled a "mhm" in response, and I could hear him shuffling in his bed, probably trying to sit up before he falls asleep with me still on the line.
"You want to talk about it?" He asks a moment later. He knows my reply, it's always the same but I still can sense the disappointment rolling off him the way it always does when I mumble a "no".
He wants to understand; to figure out how the hell my brain is wired but how am I supposed to tell someone how I feel when even I can't find the words to explain it. It's not that I want to keep all this shit holed up inside, but I literally don't have the words to explain – not even to the person I'm closest to in the world – what goes on inside my head without sounding like a lunatic.
I hear him sigh and cage my lower lip between my teeth, hoping he won't push it – at least not tonight.
"How's the trip going?" He asks after a moment of charged silence and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Ugh. The trip. It's an annual thing my mom's company goes on, and is one that she drags Prim and I along to each year despite my growing protests to stay at home. The only year I got out of it was the year of the accident, and that had more to do with my mother's inability to deal with grief in a way any sane human would, than her finally agreeing to my wishes.
"It's fine …"
"Make any friends?" Gale asks and I can tell the bastard is teasing me.
"Yeah lots," I shoot back, sarcasm coating my words like a thick gauze. Most of the people that work for Snow Inc. are pretty well off, and as a result, their children are all people I can't stand to associate myself with. My mother's been at the company for years, only slowly rising to her ranks unlike most of her friends who started with her and are now practically her bosses.
I speak mindlessly to Gale until I'm suppressing a yawn and tell him that I'll call him tomorrow as my eyes start shutting slowly on their own accord. I can hear Gale's breathing become shallow too as he probably slips right back into his bed, his voice relieved as he says a quick goodbye.
I stand up to dust my bottom off when I hear a loud shriek followed by an even louder hush that does nothing to keep whoever it is down there quiet. I lean over the railing, its cool metal sending shivers through my ragged cotton sweatshirt and spot two blonde heads, one more distinctly familiar than the other and my breath hitches in my throat, the frosty air icing my lungs.
I've known both Delly Cartwright and Peeta Mellark most of my life, although growing up on opposite sides of town my interactions with them used to be limited. That is, until Peeta decided to take matters into his own hands in grade two when he showed up at my lunch table – the one where I sat alone because Gale was a year older than me and had a separate lunch period, with a cookie in his hand for me.
I didn't understand him at first; he smiled too much, and was far too nice. Especially for someone who grew up on the other side of town. But it didn't take too long for him to grow on me – he kinda did that to people.
Something had happened, though, between grade two and grade seven, when he didn't come to school for three days before stopping by once, only to tell me he was switching schools.
There wasn't an explanation attached, nothing but the apology his bright blue eyes conveyed, but that was the last time I'd seen him.
I was too angry, too hurt and most of all, too prideful to go to his house and to make sure Peeta was okay at first. But after going days without seeing his always-persistent smile, I found myself knocking his brick red door, my teeth gnawing painfully on my lips, hoping against all odds that it wouldn't be Mrs. Mellark to open the door.
It wasn't, it was Mr. Mellark at the door instead; the man whose smiles mirrored his son's, his gentle words always a calming pacifier. Though, somehow, that almost made it worse when he told me Peeta had left for boarding school, and wasn't expected to come home for at least another few months.
The few months turned into a few years, and as I watched him wrap his hand around Delly's pulling her into the lobby of the hotel and out of my sight, I realized I hadn't talked to Peeta, the boy who used to be closer to me than virtually anyone else in this world, in nearly four years.
I shook off the feeling that suddenly seemed to take over me – the pull that always brought me closer to the boy with blonde hair that sparkled in the sun and blue eyes that always seared right into you, and tip-toed back into the room and into my bed.
Considering I had precisely zero intentions of leaving this room tomorrow, let alone this bed, there was a good chance that mine and Peeta's streak of not talking would continue for another few years at the least.
Prim's blue eyes stared at me unhappily, her eyebrows frowning as she contorted her features into the puppy dog look she'd perfected over the years.
"Please, Katniss, please. Just come outside with me today and I won't bother you again until we go home," she pleaded, and I gave myself an internal lecture, sternly chastising myself for always giving into Prim. Not this time.
"Prim, why can't you go with one of the other kids? You're friends with Rue, right?"
She shook her head despondently, her yellow pig-tails tossing on her shoulders. "But I need someone old enough to ride the snow mobile with!"
"Why don't you ask mom?" I tried to coax her, knowing that the puppy-dog eyes worked just as well on my mom as they did on me. My mother may have lost a part of herself when my dad died – a part of her so integral to her very being that I haven't fully recognized her since the day we lowered my father's body into the ground. But still, when it came to my sister Prim, she found a way to indulge her even if every fiber in her body told her to do what she did best – shut down.
"She's going to brunch with Mr. Mellark," she said, climbing onto my bed and under my covers now, trying to steal a cuddle in efforts to sway me.
And as her arms snaked around my neck, her lips puckering in pout that made the dimples in her cheeks dimple, a plea escaping her lips once more, my conviction withered and her triumphant blue eyes told me she already knew it, too.
My ski pants hung from my hips more loosely than they had in previous years and the material of my jacket chaffed my neck. But with Prim's hand clasped tightly in mine and her blinding smile that seemed to stretch from New Jersey to Washington, I trudged forward and kept the complaints to myself.
The line for rentals was usually long, but by the time we got to it, it seemed to be wrapping around the complex twice. We got on line behind a guy I'd seen around before, but didn't really know and turned to Prim.
"You don't have to wait here if you don't want," I told her, spotting a few of her friends attaching comically huge snowboards to their much smaller bodies. "You can go talk to them while I stand on line or something.."
"No it's okay, I don't—"
I didn't really hear what she said next; my attention was thrown off center – off the planet, really, when a familiar voice called out my name sounding almost as astonished as I felt.
"Katniss?" Peeta repeated as he walked closer to us, peeling his gleaming-orange goggles away from his face and onto the mess of blonde hair that sat atop his head.
It was odd; seeing him yesterday from afar, I couldn't really see what he looked like. I'd kind of imagined more of his physical attributions than actually seeing them. But now, with his face so close to mine, closer than it had been in years, I realized Peeta almost looked exactly how I remembered. His eyes were still the same shades of blue – brighter in the middle, duller on the edges. His blonde hair was a little longer now than the buzz cut he used to sport in middle school but still bright enough to look white in the sun, and his face was still littered with freckles from constantly being outside.
My quiet report of his description came to a halt when his eyes scrunched in confusion – and almost a hint of hurt – when I realized I hadn't even said a word back to him yet.
"Katniss?" he repeated, this time more cautiously and I finally snapped out of it long enough to manage a reply, my face heating as it shaded pink and my fingers automatically grasping the edge of my braid.
"Hey Peeta …" I said, trying for some enthusiasm but failing entirely.
It didn't matter; Peeta's excitement made up for the lack of my own and I almost took a step back out of habit as he leaned in to hug me, his arms encasing and squeezing me tightly.
"Man, for a moment there I thought you forgot me. He said, his words holding the same relief his voice did. "Wow… you look so – so different!"
It probably would have been the socially accepted thing to say 'thanks', or 'you too' but instead, I found myself saying "guess that's what happens when you don't see someone in four years" in an embarrassingly bitter tone.
He bowed his head, wisps of blonde falling into his eyes. "I know, it's been a while." He said, his voice genuinely sounding remorseful and I immediately felt bad. It wasn't likely that I would see him after this, the least I could do is be a decent person for the two minutes of interaction we'll probably have for the next few years.
He didn't seem to take my tone too personally though, as he reached and fluffed Prim's hair. "And Prim! You look so much older too! And very pretty now," he said, winking at her with a gentle smile on his face that always belonged just to him.
He shifted his focus back to me, running a hand through his hair. "So, what are you guys waiting in-line for?"
"Snow mobile – Prim's wanted to ride one since we got here." I told him, gesturing towards the fleet of shiny silver machines.
"Oh, you know what, we already rented one and I don't think anyone's using it right now. You're free to use it if you want …" He said, his hand pointing towards a snow mobile that sat a few feet from where Delly stood, trying to strap her feet into skis.
"Oh, no that's okay…" I started, feeling uncomfortable using something that wasn't my own, but my Prim cut me off, her voice almost shrilly with excitement.
"Could we please?"
Peeta laughed good-naturedly and nodded, already walking back towards the machine and leading us away from the line that hadn't moved nearly enough yet.
He handed me a helmet before turning back to me, "You know how to work this thing, right?"
I shrugged, "I mean … I guess. How hard can it be?"
His eye brow cocked, his features immediately concerned. "Have you ever ridden one before?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice as Peeta continued to stare at me with those piercing blue eyes that made me feel like I was thirteen again.
He looked between Prim and I for a second, before pulling another helmet over his own head.
"How I about I go on one round with you before just to show you how it works before you and Prim take a spin on it?" He asked, apparently not waiting for my answer before lifting his leg over the black seat and starting the mobile up.
I looked at Prim, and she nodded her head, "Yeah, you should probably learn first Katniss. I'll go hang out with Rue until then."
I sighed internally; sitting behind Peeta Mellark on a potentially very dangerous machine in the freezing cold was not what I had intended for today. My plans went more along the lines of reading a book and sleeping on the bed that was infinitely more comfortable than the couch I slept on at home.
But apparently, the greater forces had other plans in store for me to day, so instead, I climbed in behind Peeta and cautiously pulled my arms around his waist.
"Hold on tight, Katniss."
It wasn't more than five minutes after Peeta had steered the snowmobile away from the herds of chatting people and into the mostly-deserted slope that the snow began to pick up. Flakes, large and fluffy, flew in our direction and coated my goggles, making me anxious for Peeta as he steered the mobile with one hand, using the other to wipe away at the plastic screen protecting his eyes.
Apparently, my anxiety over Peeta's struggles were unfounded as he turned around, snow dusting his nose lightly, with eyes wide with excitement as he gestured to a large slope coming ahead.
"You wanna try going down that?"
I didn't, actually. It looked a little bit terrifying. But I nodded, anyway, coating my slight fear with indifference.
Peeta flashed a smile excitedly, and my nerves settled instantly. It was disarming, the way he could always do that, make me feel safe without even knowing he was doing it. It was also startling how comfortable I felt around him in the last few minutes despite not having talked to him in years. That wasn't how I normally worked – it took too much strength and work, most of the time, for me to feel comfortable even being around others, let alone talking to them. But then again, that's kind of how it always was when I was around Peeta.
My arms tightened around his waist involuntarily as we sped down the hill and I automatically buried my face in his neck without quite thinking about it, only realizing I'd done so when I felt his chuckle reverberate through his chest.
I punched his arm lightly, and for a moment, I felt like it hadn't been four years since I'd seen or talked to my best friend. I felt like those years simply hadn't happened. I felt like he'd been here all along, going through my ups and downs with me like he used to.
But that was the thing; he hadn't been there, had he?
Despite my gloves, hat, scarf and coat that were meant to keep me warm, my body felt frozen to the core in a way that was painful and I was sure we'd been gliding down slopes on the steel contraption for at least an hour now, getting further lost as we mazed around trees and slopes.
And we didn't seem to be any closer to our resort – or any civilization, for that matter.
Every direction I looked in, all I found were hills upon hills covered in the gauzy white dressing.
And as the flakes of snow fell down harder and faster, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to see, let alone breathe. We had to stop soon; we just had to figure out where, first.
Peeta slowed the mobile and twisted around to face me. His skin was turning pink the way it always did when he was too cold.
"I think I know where we are!" He said, his voice loud, battling with the roars of the wind and whistles of the trees as branches shook violently.
My lips perked up slightly, thoughts of warmth and hot chocolate filling me. "You think we'll be home soon? Are we close?"
He hesitated before answering and any semblance of warm and (potentially) happy thoughts diminished from within me. "Not … not exactly. There's a cabin down there – I used to go there when I came here with my parents before. I think we should stop there until the snow lets up a little so I can actually see where I'm driving. Is that okay?"
I wiped my goggles, trying to find the cabin Peeta was talking about. He was right; we couldn't go much further like this. We were either going to hit a tree or die from hypothermia, and I couldn't really afford dealing with either option.
I nodded, "yeah, that's fine."
He managed a smile, albeit a weak one for Peeta, and turned back around, taking a sharp right before heading straight, faster than before.
It didn't take too long for the cabin to come into view. It was small and didn't look like anyone had been in it for ages. I wondered what the heck it was doing here, in the middle of nowhere but couldn't really bother to ask for an answer.
Peeta stalled again only a few minutes later, this time right in front of the cabin and took off his helmet, his blonde hair sticking up in a million directions.
"Wait here," he told me, pulling his goggles from his face. "I'm gonna find a way in."
I nodded and took off my own snow-mobile gear, trying to move my fingers around as I watched Peeta try the front door unsuccessfully at first before disappearing around the corner.
He appeared again, after what seemed like merely seconds and held his hand out to her, helping her up before guiding her into the cabin.
"Are you okay?" he asked as soon as I stepped in, his blue eyes scouring me concernedly. I nodded, my mouth unable to form a word as it continued to chatter maniacally.
He pulled my gloves off, rubbing his hands over mine just enough to thaw my fingers so I could pull my own jacket off and he stripped out of his own jacket and ski pants.
As I watched Peeta kneel by the fireplace, striking up a fire, I felt my legs give in from under me and I fell to the couch. I was more tired than I'd realized, and not having eaten breakfast on account of Prim's insistence on hitting the sloped the instant I woke up was taking a toll on me.
He was in front of me in an instant, his eyes too wide with worry.
"Katniss! I thought you said you were okay!" He said, his tone almost accusatory as he pulled my ski pants off and wrapped the woolen throw that sat to my left around my body, cuddling me in.
"I was … I am, I just haven't eaten anything and…"
"Shit!" he exploded, cutting me off in the middle of my sentence. "Wait here, okay, I think I should have some food in the storage under the seat of the mobile."
He ran outside seconds later, abandoning the fire he'd barely just lit up and forgoing his jacket or gloves in his haste.
As I sat in the empty cabin, I realized I was going to be stuck in a cabin, alone with Peeta Mellark, for God knows how long.
And suddenly, all the feeling of familiarity, comfort and ease I usually felt around Peeta disappeared, replaced by anxiety and nerves.
Cause it's a long road to wisdom
But it's a short one
To being ignored
a/n: part two and three to follow soon. reviews are appreciated, as always! and if someone has any tips on how to write first-person better, please do let me know! :)