Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

"He's not my boyfriend."

Tilting her head, Nata leans forward and says in a conspiratorial tone, "He will be if you want him to be."

"Right, and how am I supposed to tell him?"

"I hear kissing works. You should kiss him." She nods once as if to emphasize her point.

"Why do I feel like everybody is rooting for Peeta and me to get together?"

"Because we are."

I sink into the chair and flop my head against the table, beating my forehead against the weathered wood. Why me? Why now?

Nata leans over and pats me on the shoulder. "There there. I'm sure everything will be better when you finally admit your feelings."

I'm sure Nata couldn't be more wrong.

oOo

Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy

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Chapter Twenty-Three: An Ordinary Individual

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"A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles."
― Christopher Reeve

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Even if I wanted to, I couldn't act on Nata's suggestion. I don't have the time. Not to mention Peeta's pretty much disappeared. Armistice Day is coming up, and from what Delly tells me, the bakery's been hip-deep in special orders for the Peacekeepers and Capitol personnel.

April 1st is a big deal in Panem. The day the rebels officially surrendered to the Capitol. Reaping Day is when the Treaty of Treason was signed, but Armistice Day is when the war officially ended. It's one of the few recognized holidays when the mines and the schools close, right up there with Reaping Day, New Year's Day, and President Snow's birthday - also called Workers' Day. So even though we don't really celebrate it in Twelve, almost everyone does get the day off. Which means I get the day off from working for Haymitch. The old Victor insisted. He even went so far as to park himself in my newly cleaned kitchen, put his muddy boots up on the table, pick Aven up onto his lap, and shoo me out of the house telling me I can get my brother tomorrow.

I can't help but be grateful to him. I haven't had the time that I've wanted to spend out in the woods, and I'm determined not to waste the day. Prim and Rory started off early this morning, and with Peeta getting slammed at the bakery, I'm left with only one choice of hunting partner.

Now to convince Thom that going out into the woods isn't going to kill him. Literally.

I find my best friend at his family's stall in the Hob. The old building is practically deserted, so it only takes me dropping a hint for his mother to wave him away with a, "Go have fun with your friend!"

Thom comes with me reluctantly. He knows what my idea of fun is. When we're out of earshot, he says, "Are we going under the fence?"

"Yup."

"Can't we just… set up traps in the Meadow?"

"No."

"What about the Victor's Village? We can set up traps there."

I tilt my head and look at my friend. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do!" He seems almost offended that I'd ask the question.

"Then trust that I won't let anything happen to you. You know how to climb a tree, right?"

He looks down at himself, at his larger than average frame, the muscles he's built lifting and carrying stuff for his family's stall, and nods. "Assuming it can hold my weight, yeah."

"Then you're fine! The bears haven't come out of hibernation and nothing else dangerous can climb trees!"

"Bears?" Of course, he focuses on that one word.

"They're still sleeping," I say, emphasizing every word.

"What about wolves?"

"They can't climb trees."

"Wild dogs?"

"They can't climb trees."

"Muttations?"

"I haven't seen any, and besides, they can't climb trees." I don't know if that's actually the truth. The ones in Games can, sometimes. But we're not in the Games. Frankly the worst muttation we have to worry about out in the woods are tracker jackers, but I'm not about to tell him that. He'll just use it as an excuse not to go. "Come on," I say. "I brought lunch." I show him a few sandwiches I made. "It'll be fun. I promise."

He grumbles but trails along after me obediently.

I spend the first hour showing him the best places to set traps. Thom's clearly been practicing; his skill with tying knots is almost equal to mine. And I tell him so.

He rubs the back of his neck a little bashfully. "I've been setting traps in Victor's Village and in the Meadow. I don't catch much, but every little bit helps, you know?"

I do. The little bits I was able to trap while my father was sick kept us from starving. We're Seam; we know the pain of going to bed hungry.

I lead him to the stream and he looks at me, sort of worried. "I don't know how to swim."

"That's okay. I do. Besides, it's not that deep." I show him with a nearby stick.

He eyes it with some trepidation. "Deep enough."

"If you're so worried about it, when the weather gets warmer I'll teach you."

"No really, it's okay." He holds a hand up. "I don't need to learn how to swim."

I cross my arms. "Well you're the one who brought it up. So we're going to do it."

He sighs but gives in.

When we finish setting our nets, Thom stands up and looks around. The trees are still bare but there's a definite hint of spring in the air. "It's not as bad out here as I thought."

"It's even better in the summer."

"I'll have to take your word for it."

I nudge his shoulder. "Why take my word? I'll show you."

Thom shakes his head. "I'll be too busy in the mines," he tells me. "I won't have time to come out here with you."

He's got a point. School runs through May 31st and eighteen year olds can sign up for the mines on June 2nd. There's always a long line; I'm not surprised to hear Thom plans to be in it. Unsurprised and saddened. "Oh." I bite my lip. "What if you didn't have to work in the mines?"

"I don't want to, but it's not like there's tons of job opportunities out there for people like me."

He's not wrong. The options for those of us from the Seam are slim. "I can see if Haymitch would be willing to hire you full-time," I offer, knowing he'll probably say no. Nobody likes charity in Twelve.

Thom shakes his head. "You and I both know that once you get his place cleaned up, there's not going to be a spot for me. Not that will pay like the mines do."

I do know that, and it makes my heart sink.

"Hey, cheer up," he says, flicking my forehead with his finger. "If I'm in the mines, that means you get to have Peeta all to yourself."

I can't stop the blush that steals up my cheeks.

Thom stares at my reaction with an open mouth. "Holy shit! Delly was right! You do like him."

I sit down on a log by the stream. "So what if I do? It's not like we have a future together." I pick up a nearby stick and start breaking it into progressively smaller pieces. "I'm Seam, he's Merchant. I've seen how that story plays out. It doesn't have a happy ending." I sigh. "Besides, I don't think Peeta wants me."

Thom breaks out into gales upon gales of laughter. "Mellark? Not want you?" He sits down next to me. "Has Delly told you about Peeta?"

"No. Maybe. What about him?"

"Apparently he's been in love with you since he was like… six." He plucks the shredded stick from my hands. "Girls have come, girls have gone, but it's always been you. According to her, the only times he ever dated were when you were dating somebody else. Like he could only date somebody when he didn't have a chance with you." His head tilts as he thinks. "I bet that's why he dated Nata when he did."

"But I wasn't dating anyone then."

Thom gives me a look. "You were dating that Peacekeeper. Danius."

"Darius."

He waves a hand. "Close enough. But even though you didn't end up with him, you were definitely dating him."

"Oh." Without the stick, I pick at my pants as a way of dealing with my discomfort. I guess I can see how people would think that.

Thom tosses the rest of the stick into the water. "Do you want to date Peeta?"

Envying its escape, I watch it float away and shrug. "Yeah. I think I do. I'm just worried. His mom hates people from the Seam. I mean, she's been nice to me ever since I started working for Haymitch, but that's as a customer with money, not as the girl who's dating her son and heir. I'm sure all of her niceness would fly out the window as soon as she found out."

"Maybe. But it's not like his parents have final say over who he dates."

"Yeah," I say the word with no real conviction.

"And there's no saying that you and Peeta are going to get married."

"Yeah."

"So just… let it happen. What do you have to lose?"

"Peeta's friendship." My voice is small, like a child's.

"Considering everything that happened earlier this year, I don't think that's going to be a problem. If you guys could come back from the whole calling each other names thing, I'm pretty sure you can come back from a breakup."

I twist my hands in my jacket. "Maybe."

Thom slips an arm around me and gives me a quick hug before pulling away. "Hey. Trust me, I get it. I'm the one who's in love with Delly. I'm the one who's asked her to marry me. We're going to get married as soon as I'm no longer eligible to be Reaped."

That's news. I give him a look. "How's that going to work?"

"Easy. She'll stay in school - there's nothing saying she can't go if she gets married - and I'll work. Married couples get houses."

"But why now?" It makes more sense to wait until they're both safe.

Thom understands what I'm really asking. "I didn't want to miss my chance, you know? She's it. She's the one. I'm not about to let the best thing that ever happened to me slip away because I'm scared. Or because the rest of the district will look down on us. I don't know what tomorrow's going to bring. I could fall down a flight of stairs and break my neck. But just because something bad could happen is not going to keep me from going after something good."

It makes sense now that he's explained it. I envy the surety both of my friends have when it comes to their love lives and their future together. "When did you become so wise?"

"About the same time Delly came into my life." He nudges me in the ribs. "Just think how wise you'll be if you let Peeta into yours."

No, not wise, I think to myself. But happy. Being with Peeta would make me happy.

oOo

Thom's words strike a chord in me. Maybe I should give Peeta a chance. I have the feeling Peeta wants to give me a chance. But I don't know. We're friends and everybody says he cares about me, but does he like me that way? I don't know.

I don't know.

I hate not knowing.

Uncertainty is dangerous in Twelve. Not knowing can lead to starvation and death. Planning, certainty, routine. That's what we strive for. It's why the Games are so terrifying. It's the whole 'leaving something to chance' which makes it impossible for teenagers to get long-term jobs or start a family. It's why for seven years birthdays are celebrated with a hint of desperation as well as with song.

It's why part of me is still on tenterhooks. I have a job, a good job, with Haymitch. But what if I'm Reaped? What if my mother dies? What will happen to Prim and Aven?

I need certainty where I can get it. Delly and Thom and Nata can all say that Peeta wants me and wants to be with me. But, until I hear from Peeta's mouth, it's just hearsay.

I need to hear him say the words.

After everything that happened this winter, I know that I have to make the first move. Peeta's not going to take a chance on me again; if I were in his shoes, I know I wouldn't.

I don't sleep well. I spend the night tossing and turning, working my way through the various options in front of me. But through sheer chance, the best one appears as the sun lightens the early spring sky.

I slip out of bed and pull on my clothes, taking extra care to braid my hair nicely, in one of the styles my mother used to do for me. I wish I'd bought new clothes, but the ones I've got will have to do.

I weave my way through the Seam to the town, slipping past miners on their way to work and Peacekeepers on their rounds. The district's alive but quiet. Almost as if it's not quite woken up. The sun stains the sky a pale orange. Not the brilliant russet of sunset, but something more demure. It's a beginning. Hopefully a new beginning for me and Peeta.

The bakery comes into view, and my feet grind to a halt. I stare at the brightly lit windows as the sun creeps over the horizon. I know Peeta's in there. I know he's awake. All I have to do is just put one foot in front of the other. All I have to do is screw up my courage to go in there.

I can't.

I'm so close I can smell the bread, but my feet refuse to move. All I can do is stand there in the middle of the street, staring at the bakery like an idiot. Which, of course, I am.

The door opens, and Peeta slips out with his jacket on carrying a basket of what I assume is bread underneath one arm. I know the instant he sees me because his whole face lights up like the sky overhead.

"Katniss! What are you doing out so early?"

My mouth becomes drier than the dust underneath my feet.

Peeta's brow furrows. "Katniss, are you okay?"

I open and close my mouth like a fish out of the water, but no words come out.

"Is it Aven? Or Prim? Are they okay?" His voice becomes more panicked with each question. "Katniss, tell me what's going on!"

"Doyoulikeme?" The words tumble from my mouth in a sudden spill.

"What?"

"Please don't make me say it again."

"I'm not sure what you said. I got 'do' and I got 'me'. The rest sort of blurred together."

I take a deep breath and do my best to still my suddenly pounding heart. "Do you, Peeta, like me, Katniss? Like, like me like me, not just like me."

Peeta blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"That wasn't what I was expecting."

The lack of an answer sends my heart plummeting toward my shoes. He doesn't like me. At least, not in that way. And he doesn't want to tell me that. He's too nice. Too kind-hearted. He's trying to let me down gently.

I turn around, mumbling, "Never mind," and start the long walk toward Haymitch's. Maybe if I bury myself in work, I'll be able to forget the moment Peeta broke my heart.

"No! Wait! Katniss!"

I don't stop. I don't want to hear whatever false platitudes he's going to tell me. His first reaction told me all I need to know.

He runs in front of me, and I move to swerve around him. He doesn't let me. "Damn it, Katniss, stop!"

"What?" I cross my arms over my chest and put what I hope is an annoyed expression on my face.

"You didn't let me answer your question."

"I got the answer." Not the one I was looking for, but an answer regardless.

"No." His fingers steal up to fiddle with the end of my braid. "You didn't. That wasn't an answer. I was surprised. The good surprise. At least, I think it was the good surprise. But to answer your question, yes. I like you. As a friend, yes, but as more too."

My heart jumps. "Really?" I hate how desperate my voice sounds.

"Yes! Really. But I need to know… the truth. The real truth. Do you like me?" His voice is so soft, hopeful. Like he's afraid the worst is going to happen.

I nod once, then bite my lower lip and do my best to not stare at my feet.

"Words, Katniss. I need to hear the words."

"Yeah," I say barely above a whisper. "I do like you."

"As just a friend?"

I shake my head and then remember what he said before. "No, not as just a friend."

"As what then?"

"I don't know? Something more." I raise my eyes to his face "What do you want?"

"I think I made it pretty clear what I wanted."

He's referring to what he said before our fight. "But that was then!" Months ago. Lifetimes ago. "That's not now. What do you want now?" I need to know. I need to know if I have a chance.

"Katniss, is this your way of trying to ask me to be your boyfriend?"

I nod again, my head tilting down to stare at my feet. I trace a half-moon in the dirt as I wait for his response.

It isn't long in coming. Rather than words, he slips a finger underneath my chin and tilts my head up until my eyes meet his. In this pale dawn light, his normally light blue eyes are so dark as to almost be the color of midnight. As I watch, a slow smile spreads across his lips to brighten his whole face. "I'm going to kiss you now."

He's giving me the choice to say no. I have no intention of saying that word. Instead, the word "Okay" slips from my lips.

He lowers his head, his mouth covering mine. It's just what I expected: sweet, with a hint of spice hiding underneath. He tastes of cinnamon and sugar and of home. And I've never felt anything so right as Peeta's lips on mine.

oOo

AN:
Written: 9/21/18
Revised: 1/6/19

Everlark! Finally! Congratulations to everyone who stuck with us: the match has finally been lit. That's not to say that the story is over. We may have achieved preliminary Everlark, but that doesn't mean that we've reached the end of our tale.

There's still more we need to cover. We'll hope you stick with us! We promise you won't be disappointed.

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