Summer keeps getting hotter and it seems that with the rising temperatures comes even more life into District 12. Peeta and I continue our work on the book, and with each memory we impart onto the pages I feel a little bit of life coming back to me, like those who we lost are once again being allowed to bring some of their light into the world.
While planning for the medicine factory is still in its relatively early stages, other parts of the rebuilding process are making a lot of progress. Finally some families are being able to move out of their temporary residences and into real homes. Crews finish construction on the new medical clinic, and are really close to finishing up the school. Delly has talked my ear off about it, because apparently she's going to be teaching there in the fall. She tells me about the new bureau of education and the types of things children will be learning now.
She says every child in Panem will learn the fundamentals of writing, math, and science, as well as about the structure of government and, when they are old enough to understand, the history of how we got here as a nation. There will also be music, art, and sports classes so kids can actually enjoy any hobbies they might have. Since our new industry will be medicinal production, the school in 12 will have classes for older students about the basics of plant identification and pharmacology.
Delly is incredibly excited to work with kids and to help them learn, and I honestly think she'll be great at it. I can't imagine someone better suited to spending all day with children, except maybe Peeta.
Peeta and I run into Delly and Maxwell - who are now officially together, much to her complete and utter joy - at the ribbon cutting for the new health clinic. It feels weird to host a celebration like this in 12, but I'm also incredibly excited for everyone in the district to have this resource. Making sure everyone in Panem has access to healthcare is just going to change the lives of so many people. My mother did her best for years, but I can't imagine how different 12 would have looked all of my life if we had something like this. So many more families would have been able to stay together.
It's incredibly hot out on the day of the opening, and we're all sweating as we stand out in the sun. Thom, Bristel, Alon, and Raphael all give brief remarks about the project and what it means for the future of our district, and Senda talks about what having a clinic like in each district will mean for the nation as a whole. It's refreshing and joyful to see the people of 12 really celebrate something that has a connection to the government. When Thom cuts the ribbon, people actually applaud and cheer and they look genuine. Things have never been like this before.
When the ceremony is done, Peeta and I stop by the site of the bakery. Rebuilding is just beginning here, but crews have laid a new foundation and started putting up some posts for the basic skeleton of a structure. Peeta wanted to come by to check in on how it's going, as well as think about what sorts of supplies he should order for the structure of the building.
I try my best to go with him whenever he needs to come down to the bakery, because I know that no matter what it's still really painful for him. Right now he's just standing in front of where the new front door will eventually be, just looking at the bakery and thinking with a pensive look on his face.
"What's going on in your head?" I ask him, coming up behind him and slipping my arms around his chest. He moves one of his hands to my arm and starts rubbing little circles on me with his thumb.
"I'm not sure I know," he says quietly. "I...it feels weird, rebuilding here. I just can't fully make up my mind as to how I should do it."
"What do you mean?" I ask gently.
"Just that...I don't know. I don't think I want to rebuild everything just as it was. I think that I would just get too bogged down in all of the bad memories, all of the pain. I think I'd just feel sort of...stuck. But I know that I desperately want to make sure my family's legacy keeps going, you know, through their recipes and things like that. I want to try new things too, but then I don't want to stray too far from what we've always done, because I want to make sure I'm still honoring them. I don't know, I guess I'm just kind of struggling to find the balance of it all."
"I understand that," I tell him. "I feel like figuring out balance while grieving is just impossible. I feel it everyday. I mean, when I think of Prim I'm so sad, even though I know she'd want me to be happy, but then when I am happy I feel like I'm betraying her, because I should still be sad. It's just this relentless cycle." He nods his head.
"Exactly," he says. "I want to make something of my own, but I also want to make them proud, and do their memories justice."
"Peeta, you would be making them so proud," I say, my voice very quiet. "Everything about you. Everything you've gone through and how deeply good you've managed to stay through it all, the fact that you're continuing on their legacy while also expanding it to include opportunities that never would have existed except for the world you fought to create. They would have been so proud." He gives a slightly sad smiley, and I plant a kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you," he mutters, his thumb still circling on my arm. I've realized that we both have developed a tendency to cling to the other in some physical way when we're feeling like we might get lost. Feeling the other person there, holding them, touching them, it all helps to keep us grounded in reality. It shouldn't come as a surprise, I realize now, as even in the beginning of it all, his arms holding me through my nightmares were the only thing that kept me sane on the Victory Tour. We are each other's tonic, each other's safety net, each other's life line.
Peeta spends a couple minutes walking around the perimeter of the bakery, sharing ideas with me for what he thinks things should look like. He describes what materials he wants to use on the exterior, what type of oven he thinks would work best for the kitchen, what kinds of display cases he wants to build in the windows.
Most of it doesn't mean much to me, as I have little knowledge or particular interest in the technical aspects that go into making the perfect kitchen, but I love hearing him talk about it just because I can hear how genuinely excited he is. There have been times where I've worried that working here and taking on this project might be too much for him, that it would be too painful and end up doing more harm than good. Hearing him so genuinely excited, even though the pain is still very much real, helps me realize that I was wrong.
We start making our way back to Victor's Village not long after, and I make sure that my hand is locked firmly in Peeta's as we walk. He swings our arms a little bit back and forth and I laugh.
"You're so dumb," I say, but he just smirks and kisses me on thee cheek. He has long since realized that this is just a term of endearment from me.
When we get back inside Peeta's house, I'm fanning myself with my hand. Peeta pours us both glasses of ice water, and I drink mine gratefully.
"Thank you," I say after taking a big sip. "It's so hot."
"I know," Peeta says. "I feel disgustingly sweaty, I'm sure I stink." He sniffs at himself, and I laugh while vividly remembering he and Cesar Flickerman sniffing at each other during his interview. Somehow that memory feels both like it could have been yesterday and like it happened a lifetime ago.
"I'm gonna go shower," Peeta says.
"Ok, I'll wait for you," I tell him, and he kisses my forehead before heading upstairs. I'm not entirely sure what I want to do with the rest of my day. It's too hot to hunt. I do feel sweaty, maybe I should go home and shower. The thought of being alone is unappealing today, though.
I fluctuate in my feelings on this topic more than I used to; I used to always cherish time alone, not wanting to be around anyone except for Prim and sometimes Gale. There still are certainly days where the idea of company is exhausting, but Peeta is now included in the small list of people who don't count as company. In fact, I now have some days where it's the idea of being without him that I enetireley can't stand. Today's just one of them.
As I hear the water turn on upstairs, the idea becomes very clear to me of exactly what I should do with myself right now. Frankly, the answer is entirely obvious. I slide off the counter stool I had been sitting on and head upstairs. My tread is quiet when I open the door to his bedroom, and then his bathroom. It's not that I'm trying to sneak up on him or scare him, I just think he might end up liking the surprise.
The glass shower door is fogged up and I can just make out his outline through it. Without saying anything or making my presence known, I silently slip off my clothes and let them drop onto the floor in a pile. When I step a little closer to the shower door I can see that Peeta's back is to me, which is good for the element of surprise. I open the door and step into the shower. He notices the sound and turns around, and his jaw goes slack when he processes me.
"Hi," I say. He just looks at me and his mouth breaks into a smile.
"Hello," he finally responds, pulling me into him and kissing me. He adjusts us a little so I'm also under the stream of water, and it feels nice.
"To what do I owe this absolutely wonderful surprise?" he asks with a little laugh after breaking the kiss. I shrug my shoulders.
"I don't know. I wanted to get clean, and figured it would really just be a shame to waste water by running two showers at once."
He laughs at my sarcasm, and soon after I've wrapped my arms around his neck and we're kissing again. He has some little soap bubbles still sticking to his chest from where he'd lathered himself before I came in, and I like the way it feels to press up against him there. I can feel him starting to get hard, and I slide my hand down his body until I'm holding him. He moans a little bit at the contact, and I can see the pleasure and lust clouding his eyes.
Whenever we're like this, his eyes get dark. It's not like when he flashes, though; then it's like his eyes are black, because his pupils expand so much. When it's desire and want in his eyes, they are distinctively blue, but they look to me as if they are a darker indigo color than their usual sky blue. I like it.
I slowly drop down to my knees, never breaking eye contact with him the whole time. I keep my hand gripped around his base and move up and down his length a little while I start making gentle circles around his tip with my tongue. I'm barely touching him, the pressure from my tongue is so light I know I must be teasing him. He lets out a sort of strangled groan that makes me smile a little bit. In the back of my mind, I think of all of the times he's told me I don't understand the effect I have on people. Part of why I like doing these things with him so much is because I can see it.
I take him into my mouth, this time with a little more confidence in my ability to maneuver without issue. I start bobbing my head so I'm moving him in and out of my mouth, taking him a little bit deeper each time.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moans, tangling his fingers in my hair. "Fuck, don't stop." His sighs and moans only increase as I keep going, speeding up my pace and cautiously testing how deep I can take him without gagging. In all honesty, I'm strangely proud of myself for how it's going so far. Now he's bucking his hips forward into my mouth involuntarily, and I know he's close. He groans and his head tilts back as he finishes, and I swallow before standing back up to meet him. He looks exhausted but ridiculously happy. The look on his face right now is one of overwhelming giddiness, and it's adorable to me.
"I love you," he mutters. I smile and plant a quick and chaste kiss on his lips.
"I think," I say. "Now it's time for me to actually get clean."