t's the fourth time Katniss has tried calling within the last hour. Gale doesn't know what to do. He doesn't really want to talk to her, but maybe he needs to just hurry up and get it out of the way. The cocaine has helped him settle down quite a bit anyway. He picks up the cell phone and finally decides to answer it.

"Yes?"

"Gale, we need to talk," Katniss begs. If they kept this game going any longer it was going to drive her crazy. Well… more crazy than she already felt. She couldn't believe the events that took place earlier.

"Are you in love with me?" Gale blurts out. Might as well just get straight to the point and face this shit straight on, right? He's in a state of uncaring anyway.

There's a long silence on the other end of the line. Katniss doesn't know how to answer that question.

"Well?" Gale presses on, becoming irritated by her silence.

She still doesn't say anything. It was hard to get her feelings across, and she still wasn't sure what those feelings were. Things weren't right the way they left off. Everything was much more simple before, but now? Now she was just lost. "Yes, Gale. I'm in love with you."

"I'm not in love with you," Gale says bluntly.

Katniss's breath gets caught in her throat. She was just rejected and it hurt more than she expected it to. "Why?"

"I don't know," Gale answers honestly. "I don't want to lose you as a friend, Katniss. But that's all I'll ever see you as, a friend."

The tears build up and Katniss begins to sob uncontrollably.

The guilt begins to sting just a bit. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I'm not trying to be an ass, but you need to know this before you get the idea in your head that we can be anything more. I just don't have those feelings for you."

"But why not? I've always been there for you." She doesn't say it, but she knows this isn't right. If he were to write down a list of the qualities he was looking for in a lover, it would be her. She knows she's the perfect match for him.

"It's got nothing to do with that, Catnip. That's like asking why some people prefer chocolate to vanilla. It's not something you just decide." He lets the message sink, wondering what it meant himself. "You're one of the best people I know. You're everything I could ever ask for and more, but I just don't feel it. I don't know why. It's not that I don't care about you, because you know that I do. I mean… there was a time I thought I had feelings for you, Katniss."

"You did? What changed?" Katniss asks eagerly. She never suspected that he ever had feelings for her.

"Honestly? I think I just gave up. I waited a long time for you, but you weren't interested. Maybe it just wasn't meant to happen," Gale explains.

Katniss ponders his words for a moment, but she can't get it out of her mind. "When?"

"I don't know… I guess when you told me I was being cheated on. I knew I could trust you, and the feelings were definitely there," Gale's head begins to spin. "But… you just weren't interested, Katniss. I don't know what else to tell you."

But that isn't good enough. "Could you love me now? Knowing that those feelings could be returned?"

"You know I'm dating Domi now. I can't think like that." Then the memory returns. "Why were you two fighting? I've never seen either of you act like that before."

"You know why, Gale." Katniss says bitterly. "I can't believe you chose her over me."

"What? I didn't choose Domi over you!" Gale yells. The drugs in his system are helping increase his anger. He's losing it. "You know what, Katniss? I'm sick of this. You need to accept that I'm with her and that there is nothing between us. We can still be friends."

"No, we can't. If Domi is so important to you, you can have her. But you've lost me in the process." And with that, the lines clicks and she's hung up.

Feeling betrayed, confused, and frustrated beyond his tolerance, Gale slams his fist into the dresser. His wrist bangs against the edge, immediately beginning to bruise. But it doesn't hurt. The physical pain is nonexistent in comparison to the fire burning in his chest. He needs to drown it all out. Liquor isn't enough. He needs more cocaine. When he looks at the dresser, he realizes he's already used it all. So he does what needs to be done; he goes searching for more.

A man by the apartment complex tells him where he can score more. He jogs across the street to a small, broken down home where another man dressed in jeans and a white shirt is already waiting for business. They nod their heads in greeting and money is exchanged for another powder. This man does not carry cocaine, but what he does carry will get rid of all the pain and all the problems in the world. It's called cheetah, he says.

Gale doesn't care what the substance is. He just needs for everything to stop. So he inhales the white powder, taking in a much smaller dosage due to the warning from his seller. It feels better than cocaine, more freeing, but it also makes him sick. Slumping down the streets, he can't seem to focus on where he is. He remembers his cell phone in his pocket, wanting someone, anyone, to tell him everything will be alright. He calls Domi.

"Gale, where are you, lovely?" She asks anxiously.

"Uh… somewhere across the street from the apartment, I think. I'm not sure." Gale manages to say. "You know, I think I feel much better now."

"What did you take, pumpkin?" Domi asks knowingly. This isn't the Gale she knew.

"Cheetah?" Gale says, unsure.

"You're on heroin?" She screeches. "Hang tight, I'm on my way."

It doesn't take long for Domi to get Gale. She's had to ask around to see if anyone knew where he might be and got lucky when his neighbor pointed her in the direction of the house he recommended Gale go to. She's relieved to see that he's alright. When she parks her car in front of the curb he's walking on, she offers a soft smile.

Gale is also relieved. He's beyond happy that for the first time today, he isn't getting yelled at. Domi doesn't force him to say or do anything he doesn't want to. She simply asks what happened, if there's anything she can do to help him. He tells her everything that happened from the fight with Katniss, being escorted to the office, and how Myka had taken him home because it was his eighteenth birthday and he was now considered a legal guardian. He also tells her that Myka wants to get rid of him. She shakes her head and escorts him back into the apartment and into the bedroom. He instantly lays down on the bed, exhaustion and euphoria taking over his mind and body. She strokes his dark hair until he falls asleep. Then she sends Finnick a text message.

"Gale had a mental breakdown. He's fine, but you should talk to Myka about it. Also, it's his birthday today. Gale says he doesn't want anyone to know."

Shocked and a bit saddened by the message, Finnick decides it's time to pay Myka a surprise visit.

Myka is at the bar, trying to keep busy. He's working on an absolutely breath-taking drawing of a woman he saw on his way to work. The detail is perfection. In fact, the drawing looks more like a black and white photo than anything else. It's a slow night, so he's trying to keep himself as busy as possible. He's already cleaned the entire bar area, table tops, washed the dishes, reorganized the liquor… the place is spotless. Now that there wasn't anything else to do, his thought were beginning to pick at his brain, driving him mad. He needed a distraction.

Lucky for him, that distraction comes straight into the bar… standing at 6'4" ft tall with a rockin' body, alluring green eyes, and a charming smile.

"Finnick?" Myka asks, amused. "What are you doing here?"

Flashing his million dollar smile, Finnick offers a wink before taking a seat at the bar. "I wanted to visit my boyfriend at work. I remember you saying you don't take breaks, so I figured I'd bring you dinner. I made it myself."

He hands Myka a warm bag, earning a soft smile. "Thank you," Myka says as he places the bag in a storage spot underneath the bar. He'd eat it later. Right now, he had company. And his company was leaning in for a kiss.

Why the hell not? Myka meets Finnick over the bar and they peck lips. Nobody is really paying any attention, or showing that they care. "Want something to drink?" Myka asks.

"Sure. Know how to make a birthday cake shot?" Finnick cocks his eyebrow.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Myka asks, "Gale told you?"

"Yes and no. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that I already took the liberty of getting you a cake. Open the bag. It's beneath the food," Finnick beams.

A little stunned, Myka does as he's told. On the bottom of the bag is a small, vanilla cake with blue and green frosting. Myka smiles at the gesture. It was a nice difference from his typical birthday "celebrations," which usually ended in bruises, broken bones, or worse. "You didn't have to do that," he says.

Finnick shrugs. "I know, but I wanted to. How come you didn't tell me it was your birthday?" he asks, obviously sad that Myka wouldn't share something like this with him.

"I hate birthdays," Myka answers honestly.

"Why? Is cake and ice-cream so terrible? Worried it will all go to that divine ass of yours?" Finnick teases. Myka offers a sad smile, not wanting to discuss this any further. "Why do you hate your birthday so much?"

"Doesn't matter. What can I make you to drink?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

"I could always go for something sweet and salty." Finnick winks. He just had to go there.

Myka rolls his eyes and smirks. He could play this game. He tips a glass into water then salt to coat the brim. Selecting only the best liquor in the house, he mixes tequila with a splash of syrup and places the drink in front of Finnick, who cocks an eyebrow at him. "I was thinking more along the lines of what's below the bar."

Beating him yet again, Myka pulls out an orange from beneath the bar and garnishes the drink, offering a wicked smirk when he knows he's just won. Finnick grins when he thinks of a perfect response. "I think you might have short-handed me. I know you've got more you can offer."

"Shut up and drink your damn tequila," Myka laughs.

Finnick chuckles as well, then takes a sip of the drink. "Love it. So when can I steal you?"

Myka shakes his head. "I'm closing tonight, Fin. I won't be off until nearly three in the morning."

"Then I'll keep you company." Finnick smiles. "And you can explain to me why you hate your birthday so much."

Myka begins to sketch away again, distracting himself. "I don't want to talk about it. Can we talk about something else?"

Finally understanding the distress Myka was feeling, he decides to back off with the questions. He could ask again when they were alone, in a more private place. He looks down to see what Myka is working on and his breath catches in his throat. "That's amazing!"

Confused, Myka looks up at Finnick and notices he's looking at the drawing. He smiles, loving the compliment. "Thanks."

"Why didn't you tell me that you could draw? And what the hell are you doing wasting your talent away working at a bar when you could be doing something with those hands?" This time, it wasn't a sexual joke. Finnick is completely serious.

"You think it's that good?" Myka asks incredulously. He always suspected he was okay at drawing, but never had the confidence to do anything with it.

"Of course it's that amazing!" Finnick says. "You know, my uncle works at the Art Institute. I know he'd give you a scholarship for this kind of work. How about you lend me a couple pieces to show him?

It's more than he could ever dream of. "Yeah, I'd love that."

"Great! We'll pick up some of your drawings after work," Finnick offers.

"Uh… Finnick, I'm not off until three, remember?" Myka reminds him.

"I know that, but I assumed you'd be spending the night with me. I'm intent on delivering some amazing birthday lovin'," Finnick winks.

Myka blushes at the comment. "I have to talk to Gale. I'm moving out and I need to know if he's moving in with me or going back to his parent's place. I'm hoping he'll go back home, but I wouldn't object to a roommate to help pay the rent."

"What are you talking about? You're moving in with me," Finnick states flatly.

Myka rolls his eyes at the comment. "You know I'm not moving in to your uncle's place. That's just weird."

"When did I say we were moving in with my uncle?" Finnick asks with a grin. "My parents left me the house. I just couldn't live there alone because I was underage. Now we can move in together."

"Whoa, slow down there, Salem. Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Myka asks.

"Of course I do. I'm asking my boyfriend to move in with me." He reaches out and strokes the brunette's hand. "I want you to stay with me, Myka. I know it hasn't been long, but I want to settle down with you."

Shivering at the thought, Myka doesn't know how to respond. He's afraid of being trapped into a relationship again. What if Finnick became a completely different person when they were alone? What if he was controlling and abusive? Could Myka get out of it? Sure, he isn't the small, weak child he used to be, but Finnick was still considerably strong and towered a good three inches taller. "I can't just leave Gale."

"It's a four bedroom house," Finnick tries to sway him.

Myka knew he could trust Gale. If Gale was okay with the living arrangement, then Myka supposed he could be to. Besides, Finnick has never given him any reason to believe he'd be any different than he was now. He's never given him a reason not to trust him. "I'll talk to Gale about it."

"Good," Finnick beams.

A thought creeps up on Myka. "How's Peeta, by the way?"

"Peeta?" Finnick asks, momentarily forgetting about him. "Oh! I don't know, to be honest. I haven't talked to him since the night of the party."

"Maybe you should give him a call. He seemed really upset with the shit he's got going on with Cato. See if he wants to swing by the bar tonight," Myka offers.

Finnick nods his head in agreement and sends Peeta a text message.

It doesn't take Peeta long to respond. He was dying to talk to anybody right now. Katniss wasn't answering his calls, Rue was busy with her dad, and Madge had a date. He thought about giving Finnick or Myka a call, but didn't know how appropriate it would be. When he got the text message from Finnick, he nearly fell off his bed in excitement.

He agrees to come to the bar, accepting Finnick's offer to drive him. It's about half an hour until Finnick arrives, looking absolutely gorgeous, as usual. Peeta can't help but blush at his presence. To this day, he still has a very heavy crush on him. The drive over doesn't take long. They chat about school, their teachers, and gossip they'd heard from friends and classmates. Peeta was beginning to feel a real bond with Finnick, happy to have a friend he could talk to.

When they make their way into the bar, Finnick and Myka share another peck on the lips. Peeta looks away, a little embarrassed and slightly jealous. He wasn't sure who he was jealous of though. He always had a crush on Finnick, but now that he's gotten to know Myka a bit better, he can't help but kind of like him too.

"Hey, Peeta," Myka welcomes him.

"H-hey," Peeta manages to respond just above a whisper. He wasn't sure why, but he was feeling a bit intimidated. Maybe it was his surroundings or the fact that he was hanging out with two tall, incredibly good looking men.

"How are you? Can I make you something to drink?" Myka asks.

Peeta nods his head. "Um, okay."

"What would you like?" Myka asks, already reaching for a glass.

Peeta shrugs, not really knowing anything about liquor. "Um, anything, I guess."

"Any preference in liquor? Rum? Whiskey? Vodka? Tequila?" Myka presses. He had an idea Peeta probably wouldn't know anyway.

"No," Peeta shakes his head. "Whatever you like, I guess."

"Well I definitely wouldn't recommend that. You probably wouldn't be able to walk," Myka chuckles. He was a man that could handle his alcohol, and he usually drank it straight. "I know what I'll make you. Do you want something sweet? Maybe a shot?"

"Okay," Peeta says, not really knowing how else to answer. He's only tried a couple beers and a margarita or two. He just hopes the drink isn't super girly. He watches as Myka mixes coconut rum, peach schnapps, tuaca, and cranberry juice into a cocktail shaker with ice and shakes it before straining the liquid into a shot glass.

"Dirty Bizzo," Myka explains, handing Peeta the drink. He and Finnick watch as Peeta swallows down the drink with ease. Poor kid probably didn't realize the alcohol would probably take a while to hit him.

Taking advantage of the situation, Finnick says, "We should all do a shot."

Catching on, Myka grins and begins to take out a new cocktail shaker for the occasion. "I've got just the recipe for this."

Four shots later, the trio are feeling rather good. Peeta is, to put it nicely, a little messed up. He sways a little in his seat, feeling warm, and smiling. He can't remember ever feeling this happy. Myka starts wiping down the bar, still sober, letting them know he's going to close down early since there isn't any customers. They nod and start packing up.

"Need a ride home, sunshine?" Finnick smiles.

"Well, you were my ride here," Peeta smirks. He is especially giggly and adorable right now.

Myka suddenly intervenes, uncomfortable with the idea of Finnick driving. "Um, Fin, you just had four shots, a beer, and two drinks. Maybe you should hang tight for a bit."

Finnick waves his hand at his boyfriend. "I'm fine, baby. Don't worry about us. I'll be right back and then we can… celebrate some more."

Myka rolls his eyes in defeat and continues to clean up. Finnick offers his hand to Peeta, who takes it while scooting himself off the bar stool. They walk hand-in-hand until they reach the red convertible.

"Hey, Finnick? What happened to that silver van you picked me up in the other day?" Peeta asks.

"Oh, that's just the backup car. This sexy thing is my baby, but she can only take two at a time, so I couldn't take her to get you last time," Finnick explains.

"Oh," Peeta giggles. That made much more sense. Then Finnick's last comment comes to his drunken, dirty mind, and he says, "So she normally takes two guys at the same time, huh? Is that how you like it?"

By now, the liquor has definitely begun to affect Finnick, and it's all hitting his lower region pretty badly. "Nah, I prefer to take my time with just one at a time, so they can get the full experience of the Odair magic," he winks.

Oh... wow. Peeta feels his face get warm. "Yeah? What kind of magic tricks does an Odair usually entail?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Finnick smirks. He looks over at Peeta, his eyes dark with lust. "But I wouldn't mind showing you a trick or two."

"Show me," Peeta dares, feeling overly confident and bothered. He wants to see what it is that Finnick has everyone raving and dreaming about.

Too drunk to decipher the issue, Finnick pulls over near the bakery. That little boy had no idea what he was getting himself into. He turns the car off and leans over the seat, immediately locking lips with the blonde in the passenger side. His kisses feel more amazing than the liquor, it's unreal. Peeta hungrily kisses back, loving every moment. He wraps his arms around Finnick's neck, who tangles his fingers into the golden locks, deepening the kiss. After a moment, Finnick breaks away and huskily asks in his ear, "Is anyone in the house?"

"No," Peeta breathes, feeling Finnick's hands caress between his legs. "No one's home."

"Let's go inside," Finnick purrs, wanting to touch the smaller youth beside him even more.

Peeta hastily nods his head and nearly sprints to the door with Finnick following close behind. The moment they're both inside and Peeta closes the door, Finnick smacks his body against him, continuing their lust-filled kisses and touching. They work their way to the bedroom upstairs, growing more excited by the second. The door closes and they're in a haze of such heavy passion, it's hard to contain it.

Wrapping his arms around Finnick's neck again, Peeta immediately seeks for more deep kisses, to which Finnick happily obliges, his hands slipping down Peeta's waist. He whimpers in desire, feeling Finnick grab hold of his bottom before lifting him up. He wraps his legs around Finnick's waist for support as the auburn-haired playboy carries him to the bed, gently placing him down on the blankets before crawling on top of him.

Finnick breaks away from the kiss only long enough to pull off his own shirt, to which Peeta instantly takes advantage of, feeling up and down his chest. It's so muscular, so smooth. Finnick's body is exactly how Peeta imagined it. Reaching below, Peeta hesitantly begins to unzip Finnick's jeans, wanting to see the rest of his body. Taking the hint, Finnick leans back so that Peeta can get better access. He pulls the jeans down, slowly, letting the black boxer-briefs roll down with them.

Gasping at the sight of it, Peeta freezes in place.

Finnick smirks at the display, leaning in to kiss him again when his cell phone rings. Annoyed, he pulls out the phone from his pocket and looks at the caller ID.

"Oh my God," Finnick nearly shouts, now completely sober. "Shit! I can't believe I let this happen." He pulls his pants up, zips his fly, and buttons the jeans. "Shit, shit. Oh my God!" He grabs his shirt from the ground, quickly putting it back on.

Peeta watches him from the bed, confused.

Finnick looks straight at him, worry lines in his face. "Please don't tell Myka about this. Promise me you won't tell him," he begs.

Suddenly sobering up enough to comprehend what had just happened, Peeta slowly nods his head.

"I'm serious, Peeta. No one can know what just happened. Fuck, what is wrong with me?" He begins to rant to himself. "Shit, shit, shit, shit! I just cheated on my first serious boyfriend! The one that I fucking fell in love with for a quickie with a little boy with pretty blonde hair and blue eyes! How fucking cliche can that be? Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He starts slapping his head with every word. He fucked up bad.

Peeta doesn't move from his spot in the bed, but the mood has completely changed. His heart starts racing, warning him of a feeling that he had felt before.

It was the same feeling he got when Cato rejected him.

What was Cato doing right now?

The doorbell chimes and Cato knows whoever is at the door is there to see him, so he wastes no time in answering it. When he opens it, Marvel is waiting for him at the front step.

"Hey," Marvel smiles.

Excited to see his best friend out of the hospital, Cato pulls Marvel in for a loving hug. "Marv, you bastard. Why didn't you tell me you were getting out today? I would have picked you up."

"I know," Marvel says. "I wanted to surprise you."

"I am surprised. Get in." Cato scoots to his left so that Marvel can come inside the house, then gently closes the door behind him. "So what did the doctor say? Are you coming back to school tomorrow?"

"She said to take it easy for a couple weeks," Marvel says. "I might go back sooner than that though. Sitting around the house all day is driving me crazy."

Cato nods in understanding. Neither of them were likely to just sit around and do nothing. They needed to physically and mentally keep themselves busy at all times. That was probably a large reason why they maintained such a solid friendship. Nobody else could keep up with them. "Have you seen the gang yet?"

"No," Marvel answers. "How are they?"

"They're good. Are you up for company? Clove wants to see you," Cato explains.

Marvel would love to see them, actually. He wasn't allowed to have many visitors at the hospital. They were very strict about family being the only ones allowed in. Of course, they made an exception for Cato, but he suspects it might have come with some physical threats. "Yeah, sure. Just, uh… not too many people, okay? I mean, it's cool if Clove comes over, and Glimmer, Gloss, and Cashmere, but I'm not really up for anyone else today."

"You want to see Gloss?" Cato asks, a little disappointed. They still haven't made their amends.

Marvel lets out an audible sigh. "Cato, you two are going to have to talk this out and put it behind you. Gloss has been our friend for a long time, and even though you kicked his ass, he still backed you up when the investigator started poking around."

"He did?" Cato asks, shocked.

"Yeah, he did." Marvel shuffles from foot to foot, nervously fiddling with his hands. "Actually, I was hoping we could talk."

"Is it about what you said at the hospital?" Cato asks, watching him carefully. They both take a seat on the full, comfortable sofa in the living room.

Marvel shakes his head sadly. "No. I've accepted that it's not mutual, Cato."

"That's not true," Cato says uneasily.

"It's not?" Marvel asks, hopeful.

"Well," Cato starts. "I don't know, to be honest. I mean, I love you, but I don't know what that means, Marv. Or I do, but it's not the same. Fuck, this is weird. It's hard to explain." Cato ponders his words. "I love you, but I'm not in love with you."

"Is it because you're in love with somebody else?" Marvel asks. There is no jealousy or malice behind the question, it's more-so a curiosity and need to understand what Cato was trying to say.

"I don't…" Cato scratches the back of his neck, uncomfortable. How the hell was he supposed to explain this part without sounding like a complete jackass? He lets out a loud sigh. "I don't know, Marvel. I still kinda have a thing for Peeta."

"Really?" Marvel asks, amused. "The shy little blonde kid that hangs out with Katniss and Gale, your arch-enemy? Why? You two are nothing alike."

Cato shrugs his shoulders. "I know. I think that's what I like about him. I'm not so angry all the time when he's around."

The words feel like a ton of bricks have fallen on Marvel, thinking about their recent encounter. How could Peeta make him feel that way, but he couldn't? It just didn't seem fair. "Oh," is all he manages to mutter under his breath.

Quickly realizing his mistake, Cato instantly apologizes. "I didn't mean it like that, Marv. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Marvel shrugs. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Wanting to change the topic as quickly as possible, Cato asks, "Want anything to drink? I've got a couple beers in the fridge."

"Sure," Marvel tries to smile.

Cato immediately leaps from his seat and heads for the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of beer, anything to break the tension a little. When he arrives back in the living room with a six-pack, something begins to stir in his head. It feels like a migraine, and it's hitting pretty hard. He's had headaches before, but this one is particularly painful, and doesn't feel like the other ones he's had. Dropping the beer on the table, Cato holds his forehead, covering his eyes with his hands.

"Cato? You okay?" Marvel asks. He's never seen Cato act like this; if he was ever in pain or felt sick, he always managed to hide it.

"Yeah," Cato manages to mutter, but Marvel can tell that something's wrong. Leaning against the sofa, Cato begins to empty the contents of his stomach, the vomit making its way onto the carpet.

"Cato? Are you sick?" Marvel asks, beginning to grow more worried by the second. Cato didn't seem sick just a moment ago.

And then it happens. Cato drops onto the sofa, his body stiffens, and his eyes begin to roll up the back of his head. Then his body starts to convulse, jerking violently. He doesn't seem conscious at all. His lips turn blue and strange noises emit from his mouth. Cato is suffering from a seizure.

"Cato!" Marvel screams, panicking like he never has before. He races over to his best friend, holding onto his shoulders, trying to wake him from his seizing state. "Cato! Oh my God! Cato! Cato!"

An ambulance arrives and takes Cato to the hospital.