Two weeks later there's a change in their routine: Peeta surprises her one afternoon, his dad having allowed him the day off. She smiles and ushers him in, explaining she was just about to head to the woods.
Peeta sheepishly glances at the bag on his shoulder, and Katniss curiously peers at it.
"What's that?" she asks, and Peeta slides it down his arm to show her the contents.
"I thought I'd show you how to paint, you know, or something like that," Peeta tells her, and from the pensive look on her face he can't quite tell if this was a good idea.
"That would be nice," she says carefully, leading him to the large dining table, and Peeta glances around her house, trying to remember if he's ever properly looked around. It's set up quite similarly to his, though he notes his kitchen is much larger, equipped with better baking tools.
He spreads the paintings supplies across the table, pointing to each one and offering a short explanation of what is the best to use when trying to draw certain things.
"These are pastels..."
Katniss attentively listens to him, focusing on each piece that he speaks of. He offers her the drawing pencils to start with, explaining the different shades.
A low rumble sounds from outside, and they both look at the darkening sky.
"I hope the rain holds out," Katniss says, though it doesn't sound as though she really thinks it will. Peeta shrugs, unconcerned.
"It's the weekend. Prim won't have to walk home in the rain."
Pause.
"Where is she, anyway?"
"With one of her friends in town. I think she plans on staying over."
Peeta doesn't comment on the flat tone of her words, and instead tries to make conversation as he watches her quietly draw. The absolute silence of her house bothers him for some reason he doesn't understand, especially because his house is usually this quiet. He briefly thinks of why she's alone, where her mother might be, but he flinches at the thought of Mrs. Everdeen. He hasn't seen her since she helped him recover, and because of that he sees no reason to break that streak.
He looks out the window, thinking of town and walking there after leaving her in his house to watch the oven, knowing she would be there when he returned...
"How's Gale?" he blurts out, and from the way she instantly stiffens he can tell this was the very, very wrong thing to say.
"As well as you can expect him to be," she answers testily, and he knows that the challenge in her voice is one he isn't supposed to rise to, but Peeta's never liked feeling confused, stupid, or weak, and he can't help but ask her.
"As well as I can expect...?"
"He works in the mines now," she snaps, and Peeta wants to smack himself for asking. The mines are a sensitive subject for her, he knows, and he tries to respond accordingly.
"I'm sorry, Katniss, I forgot—"
She clenches the pencil in her hands, and Peeta doesn't understand the suddenly stormy look on her gray eyes.
"I'm sure he doesn't forget, Peeta," she says sharply, and his blue eyes narrow at her words.
"I didn't realize—"
"Really, Peeta, where else would Gale go? He can't just take over the family business like some people can."
The harshness of the words is too prominent, and Peeta can feel anger beginning to simmer in his chest, but he can't help but think she's only parroting someone else's words back to him.
"Katniss, I didn't—"
"It isn't fair, Peeta," Katniss cuts in, throwing down the pencil in her hand. It rolls over to him, poking him with the tip.
"It isn't fair that people that live in the Seam have to work in those— mines, forced underground, when people like—"
Katniss abruptly stops, her face flushed and her eyes wide as if she's realized all that she's said, and to whom. Peeta states at her, frozen, and he watches her panicked reaction, quiet.
Inside it feels as though everything that defines him is crumbling, as if everything he thought she felt for him is suddenly just another big joke. And if he doesn't know what she feels about him, what she thinks about him— then who is he, really?
Who is he if he isn't Peeta Mellark, the boy who's loved Katniss Everdeen since childhood?
"People like what, Katniss?" he asks softly, still staring at her as they sit beside each other at the table.
"Peeta—"
"People like what?"
She silently looks at him, really looks, and she lowers her gaze a moment later, resigned. Thunder rumbles again from outside, and the steady sound of rain pounds against the windows, the roof.
"People like you."
"When people like me, what, Katniss?" Peeta says sharply, and the amount of anger behind his words is too strong for this error. He knows this, but he doesn't care. It's as if all the anger he continually works to suppress, to ignore is rushing out now; all the frustration and fury Katniss has made him feel as she yanks him around, deciding to like him, erratically choosing to ignore him, then back again—
Katniss stares at him, her eyes wide at the meanness of his tone, and Peeta hates it.
He hates her for twisting him around, pretending to love him; he hates her for seeking him for comfort; he hates that he gave it to her; he hates how she ignored him— smiled at him— randomly became his friend— made him think they could be something more—
He hates it, he hates it, he fucking hates it.
Peeta hates how she has this much control over him and he can't do a thing about it.
He's out of the chair in a second; his throat tight as he wonders— seethes— over how things could be so wrong.
"This was a mistake," he says, his fists tight, and he doesn't bother to gather his supplies. And maybe it was. Maybe it was a mistake to think that this, whatever this is, between them could work. That the special something he thought they shared could be repaired, even though Katniss wrecked it.
It was a mistake to pretend that all those times she hurt him never existed.
The anger he felt begins to drain away, somewhat, and as it recedes the same tiredness he feels after trying to deal with the emotional scars she's left stings him.
"Peeta, wait—" Katniss is standing now, reaching for him as a panicked look makes her gray eyes glassy.
Peeta's suddenly so fucking furious at these words that it surprises him, but he doesn't linger over his surprise.
Wait.
He always would have. He would have fucking waited for her even if the fucking world was ending and he should have been running to someone that loved him. He's always waited for her to realize she loves him. He's always waited for her to just finally care.
Wait.
Peeta doesn't.
A/N: Part One of the climax! Please, review, and I have to admit that it does inspire me to update faster. Also, I'd really appreciate many reviews for this chapter because I was a bit unsure of it…
(Does the increase in swearing bother people?)
...But really, your reviews would mean a lot to me. I wanted to wait a bit longer to post this (until I completely finished the next part) but I feel guilty over not updating in a while. Also, I am working on a oneshot/small mult. chapter story to help me figure out where to take Like Crazy and to help 'inspire' me. So keep an eye out for that, yeah?
