Triggers: PTSD, language
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Stay strong. You never know who you're inspiring.
~Unknown
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Sometimes I would wake in the middle of the night or early in the morning and feel her hand toying with my hair. Or outlining the edge of my face with a gentle finger, or rubbing my back underneath my shirt with her palm reading each rift in my skin. And I would stir just to see what she would do, and she would wait until she thought I was asleep and I would feel her plant a kiss on my face and pull me closer. And I let her hold me. I reveled in her touch and the soothing sensation it brought, and the feel of her hands over my skin, massaging as they went along—almost as if she could rub the scars away. And on some nights I would touch her too. We didn't talk. It was just these moments of silence with her that were so endearing. They were gentle notions—caressing her cheek and neck, running my thumbs over her curves, my hands through her hair. Sometimes they weren't, and we would touch and kiss and lose ourselves in each other, even if it was just for a moment. I could get lost in her for days and days and days.
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And one night she tells me she loves me. It's barely a whisper, but when I hear the gravel in her voice I nearly drown in a floodgate of emotions. My body reacts before I can conceive proper words and she holds my head between her gentle hands and our lips meet. Her hands leave trails of fire as they run over my bare skin and I can taste the saltiness of our tears as we kiss. And she keeps telling me she loves me, she loves me, she loves me so much it hurts. I can't even bring myself to say it back to her without the dead screaming in my ears.
And it gets so hard to breathe that when her lips part from mine for air I break right there in her arms, pulling away. My body is wracking uncontrollably as I struggle for oxygen and I wonder briefly if my little sister had ripped out my lungs along with my heart when she succumbed to the fire.
("I never thought I would be able to say these three words again but we're safe now and I love you. I want you to know that, okay? I love you.")
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We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
~Anaïs Nin
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"And she needs a release. And she needs closeness, even if she doesn't trust intimacy. She has to find comfort in people that will be safe for her."
~David Fincher on Lisbeth Salander, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) director commentary
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I used to wander President Snow's mansion. I could wander and hide in a closet in the farthest corner of the damn place and it would take hours for authorities to find me.
But it didn't take long for her. It never took long for her—an hour at the most. Not that I kept track.
I don't know how she does it. I thought it was my growing paranoia from withdrawal at first, and I began watching my back in the hallways. Of course, there wouldn't be anyone. But she always found me.
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We are sitting on a bed in a room furnished after the color fuchsia on the third level of the mansion. Our feet meet halfway between our bodies and she is hunched over a book in her lap. I watch as she turns the page.
I know I'm not the only one with issues in this room. I know she's got her own demons and addictions and I want to be there for her like she is for me. I want to get better for her. I want to be able to tell her.
"What?" she says quietly, looking up. "You were saying something," she adds at my confused expression.
I don't say anything. I can't say anything. Instead I feel a tear roll down my cheek and then her hand brushing it away, pulling my face into her shoulder as she closes the book. She rubs my ear and runs her fingers through my hair as I try to force the tears away. In this moment I don't think it's possible to feel any more pathetic than I do right now. I still feel her hand in my hair, gently massaging my scalp while her other hand draws circles on my back.
"Jo?" I say. She hums a quiet response and buries her face in my hair and kisses my head.
I sit up so our faces are level and press my lips to hers briefly, pulling back with the hesitation sitting on my lips but she melts into the kiss, running her hand down the side of my face. I break the kiss once more, my face cupped between her hands.
"Johanna, I…" My voice catches in my throat as her eyes flick up to meet mine. I bite my lip, keeping my eyes focused on the delicate curve of her collarbones.
"I know," I hear her say, pulling back. I feel the warmth from her body leave me and I retract my lips between my teeth, feeling the heat in my cheeks dissipating. And as I sit here in front of her, I think back to every moment I was forced into saying something I didn't want to say. For the Capitol. For the rebellion. Everything that was scripted, pre-written, thought out. And then I think about this moment right now. When those are no longer an issue. But I can't muster enough courage to actually do it. The one moment when I want to say something I actually want to say, I can't. I can't even say it.
"I know," she says again. She reaches for the book on her end of the bed. "You want me to read to you." A laugh escapes my choked throat.
"Yes," I say, hastily wiping at my eyes. "Yes, please read to me."
I end up lying with my head in her lap as she read. Her free hand is at the nape of my neck, her fingertips just grazing the edge of the hem of my shirt. I realize I'm not even listening to the words. My mind is focused on the flow of her voice, letting it spread throughout my body and fill me with such a warmth I felt like I could lift off the bed at any moment. I could almost see her smiling as she read, and when she pauses to begin the next chapter, I interrupt her.
"You stayed," I say, surprised at the clarity of my voice. I can't think of anything else so I sit up to face her, unsure of what to do next. "I—"
She hushes me with a peck to my lips. "I'm reading here, Everdeen." She laughs at my feigned somber expression and pulls me so close I could count every fleck of color in her chestnut eyes. I find that my cheek aligns perfectly with the palm of her hand. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." She kisses me again and I tug her closer when she parts as the book clutters to the floor.
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Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.
Hafiz
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"I want to go back to 12."
"I thought you'd never fucking ask," she replies, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Snow's tapestries were beginning to make my retinas burn."
"We're not required to stay here," I say, scrunching my eyebrows. "They don't really need us here anymore."
"I've got nowhere else to go," she replies nonchalantly.
She lies beside me in silence, and then turns so her eyes meet mine and her hand goes to caress my neck, her thumb flicking my earlobe.
"Are you sure you want to go back?" she asks simply. "I haven't been back home—to 7 since I was reaped."
"I'll be okay," I say quietly. "You'll be there." I see the glint of light in her eyes when they focus on me. "I mean—if you want to be," I stutter. "I mean I want you to be there."
Her face softens. "You're an idiot," she says, kissing me before I have any time to think. I break away, grinning sheepishly and hear her laugh. "I want to," she whispers, stroking my cheek. "Of course I want to, brainless." Her eyes gaze into mine warmly.
"You're all I have, too, you know," I say after a pause.
Her hands stop moving in my hair for a moment as she absorbs my words. She places a kiss on the top of my head and responds with a murmured "I know."
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Let someone love you just the way you are—as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.
~Marc Hack
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I hear the faint humming of the train as we travel at lightning speed across the country. Our luggage is by the door of our compartment, neatly packed into two backpacks.
She's awake, lying on her side as I lie on my chest on the bed. Her hand is running down the length of my bare back along my spinal cord in a soothing motion. I close my eyes at the contact.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispers, her voice almost drowned out by the humming of the train. Her hand briefly massages my trapezius muscles before they return to my back. Shifting to face her, I link our fingers together and bring my face close to hers to press a kiss onto her forehead.
She tilts her chin up, her lips slightly parted and I close the gap in a kiss, cupping her cheek in the process as we melt into one another. We stop as quickly as we start, sharing breaths for a moment before fitting our bodies together in an embrace. There are no nightmares tonight.
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Finding you was like coming home.
~writingsforwinter, 6-Word Story #81
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A/N: Ugh. I need to learn how to depict love in writing. And I finally played the Brainless card in there. BUT we've got over 100 followers on this story now! I cannot believe this, I really can't. Also, all you guest reviewers out there, I see you. I read all your responses, I just wish I could thank you all properly. But no matter I appreciate your feedback all the same. Everyone's feedback, actually.
Anyways, a massive thank you to all who are keeping up with this. Every time I get a new email it brings a smile to my face. I feel like when I'm not writing these author's notes I have so many things to say but when I actually get down to writing them I forget everything I'm going to say. I'll remember eventually. ALSO: I've uploaded an Everlark video edit to my YouTube channel! It's not even to the songs I was thinking of using in my other update, but I'll probably get around to editing those too. My YouTube user is KSKLAG. Yes, I love Katniss and Johanna together but I also love some Katniss and Peeta too. Let me know what you think of it if you watch (if YouTube doesn't keep taking it down)!
As always, thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, and/or follows this story. I cannot say this enough but I do appreciate and am thankful for all your support. Until next time! I hope you have a splendid holiday, and happy finals (?)