Prompt: Hello, dear! I hope you are having a good day. Here's a prompt: Imagine person A lightly tracing "I love you" over and over again on person B's back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, "I love you too." Bonus is that's the first time person A has ever declared their love for person B. Haymitch could be person A ;) or do it however you want. Thanks !
Goodbyes & Hellos
They had known it would be coming for a while now, since Katniss' mother had bailed out on them really, but things were still moving more quickly than she had anticipated.
She wasn't sure she was ready for the dawn and what it would bring.
She wasn't sure she was ready to send Haymitch off to Twelve like it was old times, like it didn't mean anything, like…
She wasn't sure she was ready.
He shifted behind her. He wasn't asleep, she knew, but she kept her eyes shut and her breathing even. She didn't want to have an unnecessary conversation about how they hadn't promised anything to each other and they were both free to do what they wished until they reunited – if they ever reunited, there were no more Games to bring them back together now.
It scared her.
The knowledge that they had nothing in common saved for two children they held as their own.
The knowledge that the only reason they had even gotten together in the first place was dead tributes.
The knowledge that he wouldn't have chosen her if they had met elsewhere.
The knowledge that…
He curled his body behind hers, spooning her. The contact was almost too much to bear. She rolled a little more on her stomach, burying her arm under the pillow and her face in the crook of her elbow. It took all she had to keep the pretence of slumber, to swallow back the lump in her throat, to keep the tears from spilling out.
She had never been good at goodbyes.
Meaningless farewells, she could handle with all the proper theatrics… but goodbyes?
He let out a long sigh but followed her after a second. She could feel the warmth of him against her side. His hand was placed on her back, so familiar it was almost painful. His palms were always a little dry and calloused. She loved how they felt on her smooth skin.
His thumb drew lazy circles for a moment and then his hand slowly ran up and down her spine, as if he couldn't be still. Maybe he couldn't. He had troubles sleeping. In the months after President Coin's death and the time it had taken to settle Katniss' trial, they had fallen into a parody of domesticity. He had come to stay with her in her apartment because the other options didn't suit either of them and they were used to a sharing a penthouse, she was used to his roaming at night or his collapsing when the sky started lightening.
He came and went out of her bed as he pleased, like the perfect metaphor for their whole relationship.
It was rare that he spent the whole night there.
When he had come back with the news of his leaving for Twelve – Twelve, the last place he wanted to go back to – they had naturally fallen in bed. It was their answer to everything. She had been surprised when he hadn't fled as soon as the deed was done, holding her instead until she drifted off – or pretended to. It wasn't that unusual for him to let her cuddle now, not since the war, but it was unusual for him to initiate it.
His fingers were brushing against her skin now, tracing spirals and random patterns before freezing just over her shoulder blade. The new design his finger drew was hesitant. It took her a moment to realize it was an I. An L was left on her left shoulder blade, a O in the space in between, the V on her right shoulder blade and the E followed the curve of her spine.
She would have thought she was imagining things if the touch hadn't become that little bit firmer, so deliberate that…
An Y was left at the small of her back.
The O was playfully traced right above her ass, the joke obvious but not quite owned up.
The U caused her breath to catch in her throat because it came from his tongue and not his finger. He erased the ghost-like letter with a kiss pressed on her shoulder.
He retreated then. His warmth left her side as he gave her back the space she had claimed.
She wasn't sure he knew she wasn't asleep. She had always been good at pretending but he had always been good at calling her out on it.
Her heart was racing in her chest.
She didn't know if his confession made things better or worse.
They would still have to separate at dawn for an unknown amount of time.
They would still be on opposite sides of Panem.
He took a deep breath, one of those that usually meant he would give in to sleep, and she made a rash decision. She wasn't reckless, not quite, but sometimes… She had her moments.
She rolled on her other side and snuggled against him. The comforting weight of his arm immediately fell around her shoulders, settling the debate for her: he had known.
She mouthed the words back against his neck, barely breathing them out.
There would be a proper time for those words to be uttered aloud but not as a goodbye, never as a goodbye.
Perhaps…
Perhaps as a hello.
When everything would be settled and she would be free to bring Peeta back to Twelve…
Perhaps then…
If he wanted her…
The weight on her chest wasn't as oppressing now.
There was hope for a future.