"culd u pik me up?"
Katniss reads the text message with confusion. Was everything alright? "Of course Peeta! You ok?"
Immediately after sending the message, she gets one back. "i dunno"
"Tell me what happened."
But before Peeta can respond, Cato takes a seat next to him and offers him a smile. It's a bit weird seeing Cato smile, almost goofy and slightly unnatural. He looks back up to his friends and waves as they all say their goodbyes.
"Bye, Cato. Feel better," Clove says. "Goodnight, Peeta!"
"Bye, Peeta," Marvel says as he waves his hand.
Gloss says his goodbye with a, "Later, guys. Thanks for having us over, man."
"Bye, guys." Peeta says shyly. He wasn't expecting them to be so nice to him. But he's definitely happy about it. And then he realizes he's alone with Cato, who is staring at him with a look of apprehension on his face.
"Everything alright, Peeta?" the taller blonde asks.
Unsure how to answer, Peeta just shrugs his shoulders. "I'm okay. I think Katniss is going to pick me up."
"When? Now?" Cato asks in disbelief. "I thought you were spending the night."
The air feels heavier in the room. "I… forgot something… at home."
Cato just stares at Peeta for a long moment, his face plain. "You're a terrible liar, Peeta."
It makes Peeta blush with embarrassment of being able to be read so easily.
"Are you upset about what I said earlier?" Cato asks. "It was just a joke."
"It… wasn't very nice," Peeta says barely above a whisper. He expects Cato to get upset or call him stupid, dramatic, or something among the lines.
He doesn't.
"I'm sorry, Peeta. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I pick on everyone, but it's not because I'm trying to be mean. It's just my way of being friendly, I guess," Cato admits with a shrug.
Recalling Cato's interaction with Clove, his explanation definitely made sense. It makes him feel a little silly for having gotten so offended in the first place. He wonders if Cato thinks he's acting like a bit of a child. "Oh. Well… okay. I'm sorry for getting upset then… I guess I just don't like feeling like I'm being picked on."
"Were you picked on a lot at your old school?" Cato suddenly asks.
Taking a deep breath, Peeta tries to distract himself from his thoughts, observing the room. The carpet, he notices, is maroon, complimenting the creme colored walls and black flat-screen television. He wonders if Cato or his uncle picked out the colors. What was Cato's favorite color? His favorite movie? His favorite food? It suddenly dawns on him that he doesn't know very much about Cato, and that unnerves him.
When he looks back at Cato, he sees the older blonde looks especially perplexed. "Huh?" he asks.
"I asked if you were picked on a lot at your old school," Cato repeats.
"Oh, um…" But Peeta doesn't like to talk about his old school. It's all in his past and he wants to leave it all behind him. Then again, how can he expect to know anything about Cato if he isn't willing to tell him about himself? Would they still like each other once they really got to know one another? It's confusing, and Peeta doesn't understand why any of it is bothering him now. "Not really. I mean, not at first. I guess people left me alone until they found out I was gay."
Cato doesn't ask anymore questions regarding the matter. He can sense Peeta's distress, and, frankly, he doesn't altogether care what the circumstances were. He could guess that much himself. Peeta didn't have to humiliate himself by repeating what had happened.
"What's your favorite color?" Peeta suddenly asks. He isn't sure why, but the question is rather important to him. It was such a simple, tiny question.
"Blue," Cato answers without hesitation. "I don't have to ask yours. I can tell it's orange."
"What makes you say that?" Peeta asks incredulously.
Cato shrugs his shoulders. "When you paint your pots in Cinna's class, you always use orange paint. And when you doodle in English class, you draw a lot of sunsets. It's dominant in your art. Was I wrong?"
Peeta's breath gets caught in his throat. He never knew that Cato had noticed these things about him. He feels embarrassed that he didn't know what his favorite color was by observation. "No, you're right. I'm just… surprised."
He's smiling again, but this time, it doesn't look so strange. He seems softer, if that makes any sense. But there's also a fire in those fierce blue eyes; determination, strength, confidence. It's with those eyes that Cato has Peeta captivated in his stare, leaning in until their lips touch. It feels different this time. Much more gentle, sweet, and...
And then the phone rings.
Peeta pulls away with a start, wondering who could be calling him at that very moment. It's Katniss. He forgot to tell her that he was alright. She was probably worried.
On any other day, Cato would have been infuriated, if not at least irritated, but right now he seems patient and even understanding. This alone is a new concept for him, being so docile towards a situation like this. He doesn't feel the need to break anything, yell, or hurt anyone. The tightness that used to compress his chest and swell his head with hot heat doesn't exist right now. He feels… normal. He excuses himself and makes his way back to his room, giving Peeta the privacy of his phone call.
"Hey, Katniss."
"Peeta! Is everything alright? Do you still need me to pick you up? Where are you?"
There really isn't a better girl in the world. It makes Peeta's chest feel warm. "Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry I left you hanging. I'm with Cato."
"You scared me! Do you still need me to come get you?"
"No, that's alright. Did you talk with Gale yet?"
Katniss immediately freezes in place. It isn't that she had forgotten, but she might have been delaying to speak with him, afraid of the possible outcome. "No. I guess I've just been too scared to. He spends all of his time with Domi and Myka now. I think I just need to accept that he's not my best friend anymore."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Katniss. Um- you know… you've kinda always been my best friend," Peeta admits.
"Really?" Katniss asks. But she knows it's true. It fill her chest with joy, and then she realizes- Peeta has always been there for her; the best friend she could ever need. He is caring, loving, full of heart and compassion for others. Peeta would die for her, and there isn't anyone in the world that could tear their friendship apart. "Thank you, Peeta. You're my best friend, too." After a long, peaceful moment of silence, she asks the question that has been burning into her skull. "Peeta… what should I do about Gale?"
Gale has to be the most complicated person Peeta has ever met. The man confused him with his constant mood swings. He wonders why Katniss treasures their friendship so much, and why he means so much to her. He wasn't exactly the nicest person on earth. But, in all fairness, he also likes Gale despite those traits. "Call him. You won't really know what to do until you're both on the same page, right?"
Katniss sighs on the other line. "You're right. I think I'm going to call him now. Are you going to be okay?"
"Of course," Peeta says. "I'll call you if anything changes. Will you do the same?"
"You know it. Thanks, Peeta. I love you."
"Love you, too, Katniss."
The line goes out. Katniss has a thoughtful smile on her face, but it slowly fades away. She needs to talk to Gale, figure out where their friendship was going. She doesn't think she and Domi will ever get along, but perhaps she could maintain her friendship with Gale. She picks up her cell phone, dials his number, and waits for an answer.
"Hey, Catnip."
"Gale! Hi. Um… how are you?" Katniss asks.
"I don't know. Shit sucks over here. Myka and Finnick are acting weird and I think it's because Finnick hates me. He's so fucking weird. I don't know what Myka sees in him," Gale admits without a second thought. "I think Finnick thinks I'm fucking him or something. Acts all possessive and shit when I'm around. He should be scared though. I'd kick his ass any day. He think he's tough and he thinks he's some fucking God, but he's nothing."
Disliking where the conversation is going, Katniss can't help the words from escaping her lips. "Gale, what are you talking about? Finnick doesn't hate you-"
"Yes, he does. And you know what? I don't care that his dead parents left him this place. I don't have to take any of his shit! If he wants to start something, we'll fucking go!"
This was too crazy. Even for Gale. "Gale, you're scaring me. Are you on something?"
"What the fuck? No! You're just blind to the obvious! That's your problem, Katniss, you've always been blind to everything right in front of your face! Fuck, why is everyone so fucking stupid?"
"Gale!" Katniss cries. "Stop it! What's wrong with you?"
"I've figured it all out, Katniss. I've figured it all out. You see, people were put on this earth to learn the meaning of it all, but they're too fucking stupid to figure it out. But I did. I know what's going on, but we're doomed because everyone is so fucking stupid."
"So you think I'm stupid?" Katniss asks with a sob.
"It's not just you. Everyone is. That's just the way things are," Gale explains.
"Everyone but you?" Katniss demands. "What about your friends? What about Peeta, and Rue, and Madge? What about your girlfriend, Domi? And Myka? Are they stupid too?"
"Of course! Don't you fucking get it? Everyone is! That's the problem with the world. Everyone is so fucking stupid! Not Myka though. He gets it. But he's broken. Not like me. I'm going to change everything."
"You know what? You used to be my best friend, but since you've started drinking and snorting shit, you've changed! You hear me? You've changed, Gale. And nobody likes what you've become. This isn't you!" Katniss screeches.
"So says the chick that fought with my girlfriend for me," Gale laughs. "I don't need people like Rue, or Madge, or fucking Peeta. They're nobody. They don't get it. You don't get it either. I thought you were smart, Katniss. But you're not. Domi and Myka get it."
Before Gale could say anymore, Katniss hangs up the phone. Gale had to be on something. There was no way he could say those things without being on something. Still, it was outrageous, insane behavior. And if he was going to continue to get high like this, something bad was going to happen. Her feelings are hurt beyond repair. She isn't even sure she wants to speak to Gale ever again, but she needs to do something to keep him from eventually getting so bad that he kills himself or somebody else. She decides to call Finnick.
"Who the hell is bothering me now?" Finnick asks aloud to himself when he hears his cell phone ring. He looks down at the number, sees that it's Katniss, and ignores the call. He knows what she wants. It's the same thing she always wants; Gale. And Gale is the last person on earth that he wants to be thinking about right now. Who does that pompous brat think he is, anyway? He'd better not have anything going on with his boyfriend, or there would be hell to pay for it.
Finally arriving at his destination, Finnick parks his car and makes his way into Thresh's house. They've always had an open-door policy with one another; a mutual trust. And right now, Finnick really needs someone to talk to. He makes his way into the living room, where Thresh is reviewing some notes and drinking a beer. He takes a seat next to him and reaches for the bottle that's been put aside for him.
"Everything alright?" Thresh asks as he bobs his head in Finnick's direction.
"Yeah…" Finnick answers, taking a gulp. He sets the beer back down on the table, buries his face into his hands. "No…"
"Want to talk about it?" Thresh asks simply. That's always been Thresh's strong point; he's the friend you need when you need him and when you don't. He never pushes.
Finnick shrugs his shoulder. "Do… do you think it's possible Myka and Gale are… you know?"
Thresh lifts his left eyebrow as if in disbelief, but then takes a moment to think it over. Finnick watches him with large, desperate green eyes. When a moment has passed, Thresh speaks. "I don't think so. Why do you ask? Think they're up to something?"
Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, Finnick looks up to the ceiling. "I don't know."
"Okay. Well… why would you think they were?" Thresh asks.
"Well, it's like this…" Finnick starts. "They've been living together."
"Okay, but lots of people live together. Doesn't mean they're sleeping with each other," Thresh points out.
But that's not the point. "It's more than that. They shared the same room. Isn't that kind of weird?"
"I guess, but didn't you tell me that Myka was a foster child living in some piece of shit neighborhood and that Gale-"
"Yeah," Finnick interrupts with an answer. "Yes, I know. But then we went to get tattoos and sushi, and there was some weird guy there that said he knew Myka because of his 'reputation.' And then Myka started to act all weird, and the guy said that Myka and Gale had been fooling around, and now my head feels like it's more scrambled than breakfast eggs!"
Taking in Finnick's panicked state, Thresh tries to see it in another perspective. "Maybe they had a fling and it ended when you two started dating."
"Is that any better?" Finnick asks in disbelief. "And you know, those two are too close for a normal friendship. It's driving me crazy not knowing! We're all living together now! And when I tried to ask Myka about it, he got mad at me and blew me off!"
"Maybe," Thresh suggests, "you should really talk to him about it. Don't get crazy about it. Just ask him what the deal is between him and Gale. You never know, this could all just be some big misunderstanding."
"I… I guess you're right," Finnick admits with a sigh. He stares at his beer, trying to decide if he needed a couple more or if he should just go straight to the inevitable. They needed to talk. Waiting, it seemed, wasn't going to help his nerves any. "I'm going to call him. If he won't take my call, then I'll just go over to the bar and talk to him there."
Thresh nods his understanding and takes another sip of his beer. "Good luck, bro. I'm going to work on this paperwork while you do that."
Excusing himself from the living room, Finnick makes his way into the kitchen. He dials Myka's number.
But when Myka sees who's calling him, he presses the ignore function on his cellphone and grunts in frustration.
"Troubles with the new boyfriend already?" Tommy, the lead Bartender, asks.
Myka shrugs off the question, not entirely interested in discussing the matter. "How'd you guess?"
Tommy offers the young man a warm smile. "I was your age once. He seems like a good guy. Just give it some time."
"He accused me of cheating on him… with my best friend… who's living with us," Myka admits after a moment of silence. He figured Tommy is his only friend that he can openly discuss this with.
"Ouch," Tommy says, rubbing the back of his balding head. "What brought that on?"
"I don't know," Myka says with a sigh. He honestly wished he could figure out Finnick's change in behavior. It was entirely possible, of course, that this was simply who Finnick was once you got to know him. That thought, however, disturbed him. "I have a feeling my ex has something to do with it."
"The big black guy that came in here the other night?" Tommy asks.
Myka nods, making a mental note not to mention that Wes is also his past foster parent. When he really thinks about it, he realizes his childhood was incredibly fucked up.
"Didn't think he was your type. He's kind of scary, to be honest," Tommy admits.
"You have no idea," Myka mutters under his breath, taking out the glasses from a small washing machine in the bar and setting them upside down on a mat on the counter to dry.
Tommy suddenly looks up at the sound of the door opening and closing. "Speak of the devil… do you want me to ask him to leave?"
Wes is here? Just when Myka couldn't believe things could get worse…
"Hello, Myka," Wes says with a click of his tongue, taking in the stunning figure before him.
"Wes," Myka says between clenched teeth. "I thought I asked you to leave me alone."
"I'm not here for you," Wes says, taking his seat at Myka's side of the bar. "I'm just looking to get a drink. Are you going to refuse me service?"
It was probably best if Wes did leave the bar, but Myka can't help but feel desperate to know what his ex had said to his current lover. He looks over at Tommy, who looks ready to throw punches, if need be. Myka shakes his head, letting him know it's nothing to worry about. Tommy nods his head in understanding, and walks away to serve a man on the opposite side of the bar.
Without even asking, Myka pours a glass of whiskey for Wes and places it in front of him.
"You remember my favorite drink," Wes points out, impressed.
"How can I forget when you were so kind as to bash the side of my skull with the bottle?" Myka retorts heavily. He had a scar on his scalp just behind his ear to prove it.
"You know," Wes says, "while you did deserve to be punished sometimes, I actually am sorry that I did some of those things to you."
"What do you want, Wes?" Myka asks, wanting to cut straight to the point in his visit. He was fed up with these games.
Wes smirks at Myka's question, impressed yet again. "You've changed."
Was he referring to the blatant hostility or the fact that Myka was not cowering in fear like an abused puppy? "You're right. I did," he says. He hopes Wes will interpret the message that he won't take his shit anymore.
"It doesn't surprise me," Wes admits. "I always knew you had a fire in you, just begging to be released. It suits you perfectly, you know."
"What did you say to my boyfriend? Today, at the sushi restaurant."
"What do you mean?" Wes asks. He seems almost completely sincere.
Not knowing if this was one of Wes' tricks, Myka isn't sure how to answer. If he tells him about Finnick's change in behavior, he could easily twist the situation. But if he didn't say anything, he'd never find out what was bothering Finnick so much. "My boyfriend's been acting different since your visit. What did you say to him?"
The strong muscles in Wes' face relaxes, giving him an almost soft touch to his otherwise harsh features. "I never said anything to that kid. It's none of his business what happened between us."
Unfortunately, that did seem like the likely scenario. Wes has never been one to openly speak of his relationship with Myka. It isn't that he's ashamed. No; in fact, he has a tremendous sense of pride in the fact that he's taken the brunette with the cat-like eyes as a lover. But he also has a certain front to keep up, and that meant not discussing any relationship that isn't simply platonic for the once-underage child he'd been a foster parent to. The age difference alone was an issue for most people.
"So…" Wes says, snapping Myka out of his daydreaming stare into space. "You're having problems with the new boyfriend already?"
"Shut up," Myka hisses.
"Hey, I'm not trying to piss you off. I'm sorry things aren't working out with him. You were always special to me, and you deserve the world," Wes coos in a soft manner.
Myka could tell him to shut it again, but he's never heard warm words like that from this man. It confuses him. This could all be some sort of mind-fuck, but Wes has never looked more genuine than he is right now. "Th-thank you," Myka mumbles, rubbing his arm in discomfort.
Wes nods his head in respect. "It is my pleasure, Myka."
Hearing his name, Myka snaps his head up from his arms, watching Wes with large, unbelieving eyes. "What… what did you call me?"
"I called you 'Myka.' Did you want me to address you as something else?" Wes asks. There is no menace in his voice, no sign of game-playing or disrespect. It strikes Myka completely off-guard. He'd expected to be called "pet," "toy," or some other derogatory pet name.
"No," Myka says, shaking his head. "That's perfectly fine. Um… thanks."
Wes offers him a kind smile, then looks ahead, drinking his beverage without another word. He pays Myka no mind. Or, at least, it seems like he's not paying him any attention.
Tommy had left the bar for his appointment, no longer worried about the threat of an ex in the bar. Wes does not bother him either, just drinks his whiskey and watches a TV screen at the bar. The room quickly fills with people, the noise overpowering. Myka had even forgotten that Wes was there, he was so busy making drinks for the large crowd.
About an hour later, an older woman with bright red hair tied back in a pony-tail arrives with a man close to her age. He's probably in his forties or so. They walk up to the bar, and the woman reaches her hand out to Myka.
"Hi, honey. I'm Lindy," she says, shaking his hand. She introduces the man next to her. "This is Joe. We're the bartenders for this night of the week. I usually come in a little later, but Tommy tells me he needed to leave and that you were covering for him."
"Yeah, I'm Myka. Nice to finally meet you, Lindy. You too, Joe. Do you guys need anymore help?" Myka asks. He should go home and talk with Finnick, but he'd rather just work and keep his mind distracted.
"Nah, we've got it from here. You look like you could use a drink though. Take a seat and loosen up before you go," Lindy offers.
Myka shakes his head. "Sounds tempting, but I've gotta…" he stops mid-speech, realizing how much he doesn't want to go home just yet. "Nevermind. Make it a dry martini."
Lindy nods her head with a smile. "You got it, honey."
Taking a seat near the end of the bar, Myka makes himself comfortable while Lindy makes his drink. He taps his fingers against the counter, absently watching his hands as a cloud of despair washes over him. She sets his martini down, along with a shot, knowing he probably needed it. He smiles in thanks and takes the shot without a thought. Truth was, he'd probably need a few more before the night was over.
As the martini glass touches his lips, a man approaches him on his right side. He looks like Finnick, but not nearly as gorgeous. His eyes are blue, not green, and his hair a soft brown instead of auburn. Regardless, he is still extremely attractive. The man smiles at Myka, asks, "Mind if I join you?"
Myka may not be getting along with Finnick at the moment, but he'd never cheat on his boyfriend. He debates his options. He could tell the man to go away, but that would be rude. And chatting while having a drink hardly means anything other than a simple, friendly gesture. He makes his decision. "Yeah, that's fine."
The man smiles and takes his seat. He has that same charming smirk that Finnick has. It's rather annoying. "I'm Dametri. If you don't mind me being so forward, it is a pleasure to meet you."
What is this man- Finnick's brother or something? Myka offers a tight smile, somewhat uncomfortable. "Thank you. Um… I'm Myka."
"Well, Myka, can I buy you a drink?" Dametri asks.
No, no, no, no, and hell no. "I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend. But thanks anyway."
"A non-sexual drink then. To new friends?" Dametri offers with a half smirk.
That didn't seem so dangerous. "Okay," Myka finally agrees. Dametri orders them a martini. Before they take a drink, however, Myka notices that Dametri is looking at something behind him. "Is something wrong?"
Dametri looks at Myka, a strange look on his face. He nods in the direction behind the brunette. "Do you know her?"
Myka turns around and looks behind him, looking for what it is that Dametri is talking about. There's too many people. He continues searching for anyone who might look familiar. He doesn't notice Dametri drop something into his drink. After a moment he asks, "Who?"
"There was a girl in a black top looking this way. I thought she might be a friend of yours, but it looks like I might have been mistaken," Dametri says. He lifts his own drink. "A toast; to new friendships."
Myka lifts his drink and they both consume their beverages.