He catches her on the way home from school that day, and she's relieved that not only Prim, but all of Gale's siblings are with her. Surely he won't bring anything up, not too obviously, at least.
"Hey, Katniss," he says, his voice quiet as he digs into his pocket. "I brought you that key, like we talked about."
"Oh," she says. "Okay."
She holds her hand out and he drops it into her palm, and she waits for him to leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks beside her.
"I think we should talk."
"I don't think there's anything to talk about."
"We didn't exactly finish things last night."
"There's nothing to finish," she says. "Look, it was a mistake. I get it. Don't worry about it."
"A mistake?" he asks.
She can't help but to look over at him at this. "I'm fine with things just being the way they were."
"If that's what you want," he says quietly.
"It's best that way."
It's quiet for a while. She wonders if he's going to walk with them all the way to the Seam.
"Will you be at the Harvest Festival?" he asks.
She fights the urge to roll her eyes. Everyone will be at the festival. Even if attendance wasn't required as a part of the Tour, the Capitol is funding the event, and there's nobody in the District that would turn down the chance to fill their stomach.
"Yes," she says. "We'll be there."
"Well, maybe I'll see you there?"
She nods. "Good luck on your tour."
"Thank you," he says.
"Wasn't that your turn?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at the Village, and his face reddens.
His mouth opens like he wants to say something but he settles for a sigh, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah. I'll see you later, Katniss. Bye, Prim."
"Bye," they both echo.
Her sister begs for an explanation, but Katniss doesn't have one for her.
They have a half day in school that day, specifically so that they can watch him leave. She goes home and watches on the TV.
It's impossible not to think about the kiss when she's in his kitchen. He must have realized that, too, because on the counter, beside the promised letter explaining things, is a little envelope with her name on it in careful cursive. She hates that she feels nervous as she opens it.
Katniss,
First, I want to apologize. If I had thought things through for more than a few seconds, I would have realized that kissing you was a terrible idea.
I can see now that it made you uncomfortable, and I want to apologize for that. I made bread last night, and I want you to have it. I doubt that it will make things any better, but you seemed to like the white bread when you were here.
I also want to thank you for still being willing to do this. I know that there aren't very many people that would, not after all of this. It really means a lot to me.
My original intent with this letter was to explain myself, but the more I think about it, the worse of an idea it sounds. I'm sensing a pattern here.
As much as I want you to understand, I want you to have the chance to ask as many questions as you would like. So please, please come see me when I get home and hear me out. I can't tell you how much it would mean to me.
Thank you, again.
Peeta Mellark.
She tries not to think too much about the letter as she heads upstairs, tries not to read too much into it, but it's the only thing she can think of. Kissing her was a terrible idea? He hadn't kissed her! She kissed him! She agrees that it was a mistake, but terrible seems like a strong word, but she doesn't have much to compare it to. Had she really been that bad at it? She had thought it was fine. Maybe even a little bit more than fine.
She reminds herself that she can't think like this as she pulls the door to the spare room open. Peeta is spoken for, and certainly not by her. She's here to clean, that's all.
The canvases that are out are all at varying levels of completion. Some on easels and tables and some propped up against the wall. Most of them are unfinished, but they're all striking, and each and every one of them depicts something from his arena. She's sure that they'd be absolutely lovely if the thought of the stream that he had stayed near when they thought he was dying wasn't so tainted with worry in her mind.
Her favorites are of the trees. They're beautiful and realistic, and they make her crave the woods badly.
She thinks of him while she dusts, realizing that she's not going to be able to push the thoughts of him or of the letter from her mind. He's safe and sound and on a Victory Tour to prove it, so why should these paintings make her so uncomfortable? None of them are gruesome or disturbing. She wonders why he paints them and if they make him uncomfortable the way that she is. Surely not, considering how many he's done.
The showcase of his paintings is that night. These ones are much more obvious: the fabric of the jackets, a silver parachute, the cornucopia, the bush of the berries that the girl from District Five ate. She's almost glad that he brought those with him, but it begs the question of whether or not he made this job up. No, he couldn't have. There's no way that he pities her that much.
"Is that white bread?" her mother asks from the kitchen.
"It's part of my payment from Peeta," Katniss says, only sort of lying.
"Very generous of him."
"He remembered I liked it," she adds, regretting it instantly.
"Hmmm," is all her mother has to say to that.
Prim snuggles up beside her during District Eleven, and they watch as Peeta delivers the Capitol-written speech. He didn't have any allies or kills from there, but his speech is appropriately emotional. He's presented with a huge plaque that she just knows he won't display in his house.
In the shots they get from the banquet that night, couples dance around, and Peeta sits and watches until he notices the camera. He actually smiles, lifting his hand and waving.
"Who do you think he's waving to?" Katniss asks, and her sister groans in irritation.
"What?" Katniss asks. "It's an honest question."
"Nothing," her sister says. "I didn't say anything."
Districts Ten through Six are all pretty much the same thing. He makes a speech, accepts a plaque, and is shown chatting at a party. Normally, watching it would irritate her, but she doesn't mind it as much this year. She can't help but to wonder why he can make something that she normally finds so boring interesting.
Her job is tedious, but she's not about to complain about it. He's paid her more than enough to make it exciting to wipe the nonexistent dust off of his canvases every day.
District Five is terrible. The girl that Katniss had nicknamed Foxface was Peeta's first kill, and it was entirely by accident, and she can tell just looking at him how guilty he feels over her eating those stupid berries.
At the end of his speech, which was much quieter than the rest of them have been, he adds, very simply that he's sorry.
She doesn't think anyone has ever apologized to the district of one of their kills before. Certainly not on any Tour she's been old enough to remember.
He doesn't seem much in the mood for a party that night.
His mood is perfectly fine in Districts Four and Three. He smiles during the party that night, engrossed in a conversation with, of all people, Effie Trinket. Katniss sort of smiles, remembering their conversation, until she remembers that she really shouldn't.
She knows that Districts Two and One will be awful for him, but he manages slightly better than he did during District Five. His voice is still apologetic, but all of the shots of the party show him talking and even sometimes laughing.
Madge Undersee invites her to watch Peeta's Capitol interview in the Square, and she agrees, because it really couldn't be all that bad, and, as Madge had reminded her, they are friends. Her sister comes with her, and the three of them sit on the grass, watching the screen.
"Peeta, tell me," Caesar says as Peeta takes his seat on the stage. "You've been back in District Twelve for, what? Six months, now? How are you settling back in?"
"Very well," Peeta says. "You know, there's a shower in there. I think I'm finally getting the hang of it."
Caesar laughs.
"It is very nice to be at home, though. As great as everything is here, there's really nothing like District Twelve,"
"Is it the people?" Caesar asks, raising his eyebrows, and Katniss knows that it's a trap, but Peeta walks right into it.
"Mostly," he admits. "Though, Haymitch is my only neighbor,"
The audience loves this sort of thing, people having fun at Haymitch's expense. Even the crowd in the Square is laughing at the thought of it.
"Now, did your family move with you or is it only you?"
The question surprises him. Katniss can tell, because his face locks into place the way that it did when she apologized about his eye the first time.
"It's just me," Peeta says. "They have the bakery to run, you know."
"Your girl didn't move with you, then?" Caesar asks.
Peeta chuckles. "No. She didn't move with me."
"I have to ask. How are things going with the two of you? How did you tell her?"
"I didn't. Not yet."
From her spot in front of Katniss, Delly Cartwright actually groans. Katniss remembers Peeta's last interview after the Games, and how convinced Caesar was after seeing the interviews that Delly was the girl Peeta had been talking about. It took a story about them telling people that they were brother and sister to make him let go of that idea.
"Why not?" Caesar asks.
"I don't know how," Peeta admits. "She scares easily when it comes to this sort of thing. I learned that pretty recently, actually."
"Recently? So the two of you have spent time together, then?"
"Yes, we have," Peeta says.
"Is she what you thought she would be?"
"So much more, Caesar. She's so much more than I thought she would be."
Katniss isn't sure why, exactly, but the feeling rising up inside of her feels an awful lot like jealousy. She reminds herself to stop being ridiculous. She has absolutely no claim on this boy. She should be happy that he's happy.
"Do you think you'll tell her soon?" Caesar asks.
"I'll tell her when the time is right. I'd rather take things slow than put her on the spot."
"I understand where you're coming from, Peeta, but believe me when I say that your girl, whoever she is, is the most envied girl in the country. She would be thrilled to have you put her on the spot."
Peeta chuckles. "I'll keep it in mind."
The interview shifts back to his new life as a victor; but somehow, his girl is always brought up.
"I don't think I'm alone in saying that we had hoped for some sort of a portrait during your showcase," Caesar says when they talk about his art.
"Oh, no. I'm not any good at those yet."
"So all that cooking… Is it for someone in specific."
"I'm just trying to figure out what's good."
Katniss wonders if he's getting sick of talking about someone else during his interview. She thinks that she would be.
There's no footage of the party, since cameras aren't allowed at the president's mansion.
That night, when she can't sleep, she pulls the blanket up to her chin and wonders if she should even be allowed to miss him.
Author's Note:
Extra chapter, what?! So the story hit 100 followers here on FFN, and 50 reviews, and since the chapter was finished, I figured I could post it. This is mostly Everlark/Peeta angst and miscommunication, and I'm terribly sorry, but things will be continuing in this pattern for a little while. Thank you all again for the reviews. They make my day!