Author's Note: Well Hi there readers. I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this story up for you. It's been what? Three weeks? Sounds long. Thank you for your reviews, I can only hope they continue to come in. I am still developing this story so please don't assume how it's going to end or what is in store for the characters next, you just may be surprised. I'm sorry this chapter can't be longer, but I am very happy with the way this chapter makes the story progress. Your reviews mean the world to me. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading and staying tuned. Enjoy.
Peeta sat by the bar alone, deep in thought. A glass on single malt scotch sat in front of him, just out of reach of his fingers. He didn't intend to drink it, but having it there made all the difference to him.
The glass of scotch served as a reminder that things could change, but they didn't necessarily get better. He told himself it was just a drink, that he'd abstained from the liquid poison for long enough that one drink couldn't really help him, nor could it hurt him. But he knew better. It was a slippery slope, one that had taken him weeks to move past and regain some sort of semblance of who he wanted to be.
That was the problem. The more he fought to make things right, to cram the old pieces of his life back together, the more things would turn out differently than what he wanted, almost like a puzzle of which it's pieces did not fit correctly. His expectations were becoming skewed and now he didn't know what he could do to correct his life.
He wasn't sure wether he was safe from it anymore, that being the uncertainty and constant state of confusion at what his life was becoming. Peeta began to wonder what he really wanted, but his mind drew a blank. It seemed as if nothing, no man, no action, no words could make him whole and complete again. Too much had happened. A thought occurred to him, maybe he was destined to end up this way, constantly pondering every decision and life choice in hopes of one gesture making it all better again. It was as if his mind was ever in a state of complete uncertainty about everything, much like a piece of information on the tip of a person's memory, but unable to process.
Peeta was falling into a pattern, trying his best to reclaim old fragments of a time when he was happier and bringing them into his present world of unanswerable questions and complete and utter doubt.
He sighed and reached forward for the glass. He held it carefully in the palm of his hand. The smell was utterly intoxicating and familiar. He tilted the glass to rest on his bottom lip as he angled it up and the aroma of scotch filled his nose as the delicate amber liquid graced his lips. For a moment he set the glass back down with an audible clink. His scotch tinged lips twitched at the taste and Peeta reached for the glass again and tossed the rest of the drink back much to his satisfaction.
"Fancy running into you here."
Peeta was visibly startled as the words filled his ears. His hand automatically jolted and knocked the now empty glass over on it's side as he turned in his seat, his blue eyes instantly locked on the tall man he hadn't seen or spoken to in weeks.
"You scared me," Peeta said nervously, quickly reaching out and setting the glass upright as his eyes stayed fixed on Finnick, noting the usual charming smile was oddly missing from his handsome features.
"This seat taken?" Finnick asked politely, pointing at the row of empty bar stools waiting for a response for several delayed seconds as he watched the younger man contemplate how to respond. "I just saw you sitting here and-"
"-You can sit down," he replied, using his right leg to casually push the seat out invitingly.
His smile reappeared and Finnick nodded in acknowledgment as he removed his jacket and sat down.
Peeta immediately recognised the scent of his cologne, the tiny features about him that had started to fade from his memory came rushing back in an overwhelmingly arousing way. As he watched Finnick signal the bartender for two of the same drinks they shared over long nights, he remembered just how much better he instantly felt when he was in such a close proximity to him. His eyes trailed up the long arms that had spent so long rightfully wrapped around him caringly, the sea green eyes that had stared reflectively into his own, and the full lips that had placed kisses over his body on nights when Peeta felt exceptionally low, night's like the present.
"This is weird, isn't it?" Finnick asked, a light lilt in his voice suggest he found the humor in the situation.
"It is now," Peeta remarked, his eyes fixed on the glass and his lips pursed in a half smile. "It's good to see you," he commented softly.
Finnick took a slow sip from his glass, a mischievous smile crossing his lips, "What was that?"
"I said it's good to see you, Finnick." Peeta sighed and grinned to himself, completely oblivious of any of the worries in his life. At that moment he hadn't a care in the world.
Finnick nodded slowly and placed his glass back down on the bar, noting that Peeta hadn't touched his own. "It's really good to see you too."
The younger man watched him speak carefully. He noticed as Finnick's mouth opened to continue speaking, before deciding against it. He knew whatever the man was planning to say had been revoked. He also noted the subtle way he reached for his glass and took another sip that he was nervous. What could it have been? A secret desire to express affection, a thought or feeling better left on the forefront of his mind, not spoken out loud, subject to uncertain feelings and vulnerability.
"How have you been?" Finnick asked, breaking the silence and turning his attention to Peeta's blue eyes.
The younger man shrugged evasively, unsure of wether or not to reveal the truth. "I'll have to get back to you on that one. Things tend to always be a little complicated with me."
"Well," the man interjected with raised eyebrows, "Cut out the bullshit and lay it out for me."
The response forced the man to let out a sigh of relief. It was the same sort of effect the older man always had on him, to make him sift through the complicated layers and simply give him the motivation to find the root of his problems, even if there were too many to count.
"Do you think it's possible to love two people at the same time?" Peeta asked with his eyes fixed on the glass in front of him, noting how tightly his hands gripped it.
"You're asking the wrong man, Peeta." Finnick immediately felt a pang of hurt in his chest. He spent the next few seconds observing the younger man, watching his blue eyes slowly become more and more vacant, knowing it hurt him much more to summon the courage to ask the question. It was all too clear to him why such a question would be uttered. "There's someone else, isn't there?"
Peeta nodded solemnly. "Yeah."
"And what?" Finnick asked, almost bitterly, his somewhat cheerful demeanor had already vanished as he reached for his drink again. "You're not in love with me anymore?" In one swift motion, Finnick tossed back his drink and roughly placed the glass back on the bar.
The move startled Peeta who shot the older man an angry, unapologetic look. Finnick's apparent anger confused and bewildered him, making him nervous and more inclined to shut his mouth. It was only the man's perplexing demeanor and unjustified response that gave him the vengeful motivation to keep talking.
"That's the problem," Peeta mumbled, "I want nothing more than to forget about you, forget that I even met you and give my heart to someone else. I have somebody who loves me and I can't love him back because whenever I get a moment to let my heart catch up, it just continues coming back to you." He paused for a moment and let his eyes drop half-lidded, "I fucking hate you for that."
Finnick pursed his lips and scoffed sarcastically, "You hate me because you can't control your feelings?"
"No," Peeta murmured, "I hate you for not loving me back. I hate you for making me love you, making me think about you all the damn time with your fucking card and you showing up when I just wanted to be alone."
"Do you want me to go?" He asked, contemplating the answer he wondered if this would be the last time he saw the young man.
Peeta stared at him for a moment, he too wondering how his answer to the question could possibly impact his future. "No. I want you to stay."
Finnick nodded, his feelings still bruised yet feeling somewhat validated. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he said without breaking his longing, lustful stare, "Do you want to come home with me?"
"And what would that accomplish?" Peeta asked with a frustrated sigh, "I can't keep falling into old patterns, especially not with you. You're bad for me and I'm bad for you."
"Bullshit," Finnick mumbled, sliding his hand closer to Peeta's arm and letting two fingers gently brush along it. "I want you now as much as you want me, that's obvious."
Peeta's fingers drummed along the side of the still full glass of scotch, he was surprised how accurate the man's observation was and how tempting the offer to be with him again was. He let himself consider the offer for a moment, "What about your girlfriend?"
"You mean the one you recognized and tried to pick up?" Finnick asked as he watched Peeta's face flush with embarrassment at being found out. "Johanna is not my girlfriend."
"Then what is she?"
"Like I already told you, she's my friend."
Peeta felt a headache approaching as their discussion continued. He knew no matter where it would lead, it wouldn't be a good place. He also knew their present encounter would more than likely be their very last. He had come to this revelation in the past, but they had both found a way to hurt each other some more, even after their brief relationship had ended.
"I'm seeing someone," Peeta replied after deciding not to go back down the path that led to debauchery and reckless behaviour.
"Someone you don't love," Finnick reiterated tiresomely. He felt his last fleeting hopes of a passion fueled sexual encounter disappear. "Why do you want to be with someone you don't love?"
"Why do you?" Peeta snarled. He finally reached for his drink, picking it up he watched the scotch inside swirl as the beckoning aroma reached his nostrils. He paused for a moment, "Just say it."
Finnick hesitated, looking into the pleading blue eyes, "Say what?"
"Tell me you love me," pleaded Peeta desperately, gripping the glass tightly. "Just say it so we can be together, so we can both be happy. I'm so tired of being miserable without you."
He didn't reply.
Peeta had never felt more unwanted and vulnerable as he did in that moment. Seconds turned into long moments of silence, his blue eyes still locked on the older man who didn't look back and still wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" Peeta asked glumly as he picked up the glass and quickly swallowed the contents in a matter of seconds. He could immediately feel the alcohol travel directly to his head, causing him to feel light headed for a few seconds. "I'm so sick of feeling this way."
"I'm sorry I can't tell you what you want to hear," Finnick offered, inching a little closer and resting his hand on Peeta's knee. He truly hated seeing the pain and sadness in the young man's face. "But I need you in my life, Peeta."
Peeta scoffed and pushed the hand on his knee away, "Well, you don't get me, you can't even love me."
"Maybe not," he replied almost coldly, "I don't care if there's someone else, I just need to be around you from time to time."
The younger man failed to see any sort of compliment in the proposal if there even was one, the request only served to mount on top of his many confusing problems. "Why?" he found himself asking after a beat.
Finnick's green eyes stared into the deep blue ones. In a moment of weakness, he reached out and brushed some of the blonde hair behind the man's ear as he allowed his fingers to linger for a little longer than required. "Because you're the best person I know. Despite what you may think, I'm better when I'm around you, and I need you around me from time to time… even if you are just my friend."
"We'll never be friends, Finnick," Peeta sighed as he turned in his seat and stood to his feet. "How the hell can you expect us to just pretend we don't have feelings and act like nothing happened?"
His arm reached out, his hand gripping Peeta's wrist tightly to stop him from getting too far away. "I don't. Just like I can't pretend you don't exist anymore. For better or worse, you're a part of my life now."
Peeta stilled as the words came out of Finnick's mouth. "Okay," was all he could think to say as the hand released from his wrist. "It's late, I should go."
"Okay." Finnick nodded and remained in his seat, a sad look washed over his face. He could hear the sound of footsteps beginning to retreat. He quickly turned in his seat, "Peeta, wait-"
"What?" he asked, confused.
He gaped for a moment, once again unsure wether or not to ask a question. "Do you really hate me?"
"I can't hate you." Peeta chuckled and shook his head. The smile felt immensely good, so did the flash of relief he witnessed in the older man's beautiful face. "I thought you were going to let me go."
Now Finnick wore a confused expression. "What?"
"In your card, you wrote that you were going to let me go. But now here you are again, here we are again."
The man paused for a moment, obviously having never given the matter much thought himself. "I came in for a drink and saw you sitting here looking so sad." He looked down at the floor, "I can't ever stand seeing you look that way… especially if I'm the reason, I figured maybe I could make you feel better."
Peeta smiled politely, "You did. Goodnight, Finnick."
"Night," he replied with a small smile as he watched the young man he was crazy for walk away. It felt very good to know he would see him again soon.
On a small quiet street surrounded by picket fences and bright street lights, Peeta sat down on a small white bench at a bus stop a few streets away from his home. He found himself still slightly shaken from his encounter earlier that night. Fortunately the same encounter seemed to have done him some good, the worries that had been driving him crazy for nights seemed like distant memories of problems that once were.
He'd come to this place for a very specific reason. Still uncertain as to what his next move would be, Peeta waited patiently, tired of weighing the pro's and con's he just wanted to do what felt right to him. His stomach was in knots as he felt the pressure mount of his shoulders.
Peeta smiled to himself as he saw Cato approach, emerging out of the darkness and into plain view, drawing closer with each uneasy step. "Took you long enough," he remarked as the tall man approached.
"I wasn't exactly expecting to hear from you at this hour," Cato replied as he gingerly sat down on the bench beside the smaller man. For a brief second it seemed as if on instinct he was going to place an arm around Peeta's shoulders. His hands instead remained in the pockets of his jacket. "I'm glad you called."
Peeta nodded, "Yeah, I figured we needed to talk about things."
"I know what you're going to say," he sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, "After what happened with us… I know I had no right to say the things I did the other night-"
"What things?"
Cato paused for a moment and took a deep breath, "Telling you I loved you, putting you in that position."
It was a position Peeta was all too familiar with. As he listened to Cato's words, he couldn't help but sympathize with him. The pain of not having his feelings reciprocated was unbearable, he knew exactly how the man felt as he began to question his own moral fibre.
"I'm glad you said it, that you still feel that way," Peeta said evenly, "And I'm glad you're here."
A look of relief flashed over Cato's face, "I wasn't expecting you to say that."
Peeta smiled warmly. In an effort of kindness he leaned across and placed a light kiss on Cato's lips. As his eyes closed and their lips met, Peeta could only hope the gesture would be enough for the time being until he was finally able to summon his feels and tell Cato that he loved him.
"I don't want things to be up in the air with us," Peeta said softly, his lips and inch away from Cato's, "I want you to know I'm in this."
Cato's hand cupped Peeta's soft cheek, his thumb brushed the underside of his lower lip, "Can I ask what brought on the change of heart?" he asked with a happy lilt in his voice, "I mean, I thought you called me out here tonight to tell me you didn't want to see me anymore."
"I just realized how happy you made me." Peeta lied. Terrified of the truth himself, he certainly wasn't going to reveal the truth about the only man who had the kind of power to stir up such passion inside of him, the kind of passion Finnick had himself, the kind Peeta could bring to someone else.
Cato leaned in for another kiss, capturing Peeta's full lips with his own, cupping his jaw in one hand while his other fisted in the man's shirt. As Cato's tongue entered Peeta's mouth, he exhaled deeply through his nose as his mind tracked back to earlier that night. His heart began to beat faster, not because of the kiss he was receiving, but because of the promise that he would see Finnick again.