I take on extra shifts for the rest of the month. It isn't long, but by the time the month's end comes around, I'm exhausted. It's probably better this way so I can't even think about what's gone on.
With Annie out of commission, Prim has spent the last week out of town getting a crash course in counselling from another centre networked with Posi+ive. Even though I know what she's doing is important, I can't help but miss her as she spends the week away at a hotel.
The discussion about her going had been a hard one - I hadn't originally wanted her to go, too fearful that something would happen and she'd be taken from me. But she'd won out in the end, putting her foot down and reminding me that she's an adult who can handle her health.
"It's going to be different for me, Katniss!" she'd yelled, slamming the door to our apartment and dropping her purse on the kitchen table.
Returning from Finnick's funeral, tensions were running high as my body was now completely devoid of tears and energy from the extra work and the refusal to face the situation between Peeta and I. Prim leaving wasn't making it any better; I'd found out at the wake and it had caught me by surprise.
The discussion had come up when I'd noticed Prim standing closely with Haymitch before I'd ducked away to avoid him. After, I'd pulled her aside to interrogate her as to what Haymitch had been saying about me but she'd countered quickly.
"You're being insane. I know this thing with you and Peeta is hard, but Katniss, these are people I see nearly every day. Haymitch wasn't saying anything bad about you! He was telling me about a course the centre wants me to take to bring me up to certification. That's all," she had hissed, shaking her head disparagingly.
The conversation had paused there, me not wanting to make a scene and instead heading out a little bit early. We both ended up back in the apartment, the discussion coming back full force as my worries compounded.
"But Prim, you'll be in another city!" I'd shouted back, closing the door behind me with a snap, overcoming the obstinate stick in the door frame. I watched her spin to face me, her eyes still swollen from the tears shed earlier in the day.
"I know that Katniss, but you need to get it through your head that I can handle it! The centre needs someone to help with everything going on right now and I'm pretty much the closest to certification. I'm going, that's the end of it," she'd finished and began pulling out the makings of her comforting smoothie snack.
Watching her fiddle with our crappy blender, I felt myself giving up any will I had to fight with her further. Too tired to function, I'd let it go.
And now she is gone and I am home alone again, another double shift under my belt pushing me closer to the edge of a breakdown.
Sitting, watching the wall instead of reading the book I've picked up, I can't stop thinking about how things have spun so viciously out of control. It hadn't taken long - one slip in a critical moment and I'd lost everything. Now I spend my hours working so I don't think about how I much miss Peeta and the way he made me feel. Or worrying about Prim.
It doesn't help that I too am dealing with the loss of Finnick and whatever small friendship with Annie I had started to build. With Finnick gone and Annie dealing with the loss, I am alone, exhausted, and missing my best friend.
And I don't know what to do.
I try to focus on the book again, reading the same line over and over again until I hear a key in the lock, surprise and concern ricocheting through me.
"Prim?" I nearly shout, my breath caught in my lungs. I hear a stumble in the hallway and leap to my feet to investigate.
"Woah, Katniss," Rue's unexpected voice rings calls out, her hands up in the air. "Sorry, I thought you'd be at work. Prim wanted me to check on her plants, she wasn't sure you'd remember."
Rue is the last person I expect to be in my apartment right now, her presence confusing me as I try to process her words through my tired mind.
"Katniss, what's wrong? You look like someone killed your dog," she asks gently, her voice low. I look up to meet her eyes and it's as though her question is a crowbar tearing me apart, my walls weakening as my body shudders.
"I'm fine," I mumble and though I say the words, we both know they're a lie.
"Oh, babe, you are not fine. Sit down, we're going to talk this out or get you drunk or something," Rue insists and grabs at my arm, tossing her bag on the floor and pulling me over to the couch and forcing me down. "Where do you keep the booze?"
"Kitchen," I state and Rue disappears, a ruckus rising from her digging through the cupboards, pulling down cups and popping out ice. When she returns, she holds two mixed drinks in her hands and has the bottle tucked under her arm.
"Now, we're not going to get drunk because that would be useless-fun, but useless. But we're going to have drinks. Because you need to talk, I can see it written all over you, and Prim won't tell me anything. Spill."
I chew my lip at her words, unsure of where to start, what to say and how to go about it without sticking my foot in my mouth.
"You can say whatever, Katniss," she adds, practically reading my thoughts. "I won't judge you. I've been around people all my life who've said and done stupid shit because of my HIV. I know you've been dropped in the deep end and I don't care if your thoughts are still mixed up - I'll tell you straight and not hold it against you. So talk to me," she insists and clinks our glasses together ceremoniously. I take a hesitant sip and nearly sputter at the burn of liquor in my mouth.
"Oh man, what the hell is in this?" I ask only to be answered by Rue's maniacal laughter. It breaks the tension between us and I take the leap. "I feel like I'm losing it."
"Welcome to the club," she counters quickly, dryly, before taking a sip of her own drink.
"No, really. This, everything," I wave my hands around, nearly splashing my drink, not really caring, "It's heavy. I thought it would be fine, I thought once I got the money under control things would go back to normal, but - " I pause, taking another drink and looking at my feet. "It's not normal. Nothing is the way it used to be and all the decisions I used to make without a second thought are just… So hard now."
"Like what?" she prods, leaning back into the couch and getting comfortable.
"Like, saying sorry."
I let the words hang in the air, the full realization of their meaning hitting me like a brick wall and bringing tears to my eyes. "Like saying sorry to Peeta for leaving, for not being there for him. For not knowing how to support him with Finnick or being able to be strong enough for him."
"I'll be honest, it doesn't get easier," Rue cuts in, her hands moving with each word. "I've been doing this a long time-Kaniss I've had HIV for 22 years…" Her eyes go misty for a moment, but then snap back into focus. "Death sucks. But it's a part of life whatever your status. I don't know the full situation with you and Peeta, but I'm betting you were as strong for him as you could have been in that moment. And I've seen you with Prim and at the centre and babe, you are amazing. But you need to stop thinking it's possible to be everything for everyone. Cus, you can't help anybody if you burn yourself out."
I know other people have said it, but I feel like I'm hearing it for the first time. Tears well up as she scoots closer to me on the couch.
"Look, I don't know Peeta the best, but I do know he's got a lot of 'life experience' in his past, if you get what I mean. And I've known people fighting smack habits and let me tell you I know that sometimes, you can't be their sole pillar of strength for them. It doesn't work like that. The strength they need has to come from inside, otherwise you just get sucked down too. It isn't your job to 'fix' him. Try to remember that, see if it helps. Now, what else is on your mind?" I pause for a moment and consider my next words as Rue waits patiently.
"I'm sorry for all the ways I wish Prim was still - " I bite my lip to keep the words inside.
"Not positive? Girl, you shouldn't be sorry for wishing Prim didn't have HIV," Rue replies quietly as the tears begin to spill out of me for even thinking it. "Anyone with HIV has probably thought that at some point in their lives. It's not something we like, it's not something we want, but it's something that is. My mother wished since I was born that I didn't have it, but that's not the way it worked for us. We can't change it so we have to adapt to it. But that doesn't mean we don't wish we didn't have an incurable disease that costs a fortune to treat and could kill us, you know? So it's okay to wish for it, just be realistic too."
Her words resonate inside of me and the pain I've locked inside threatens to pour out.
"Keep going," she urges, and I take a shuddering breath.
"I hate that deaths are going to keep happening. That I'm going to lose more people I've come to love. I don't think I can handle that… Handle losing people like Prim… Or Peeta…" My voice cracks and soon Rue is pulling me in and letting me cry deep shuddering sobs upon her shoulder, our drinks temporarily abandoned on the table.
We sit together on the couch for a long while, my breakdown starting to ease and my head coming back to me. In those moments I realize the weight that was once so heavy has been lifted a little from my shoulders by saying it all out loud.
"Death is life, no matter who you are," Rue pauses, nodding slightly to herself. "I lost my mom when I was young from this disease and it still hurts to think about, but we have to go on. And you can lose people even if they aren't positive. Prim told me about your dad. Meanwhile I've had HIV for decades and my health is great. You take the meds, you do just about as good anyone else. You worry about Prim, but you let her drive don't you? That's more likely to kill her than HIV.
"We have to be there for those around us who are still living. Prim and Peeta - they're not going to just keel over. Focus on all the time and memories you get to make with them and forget all that death stuff - it's a waste of energy. Anything else?"
I shake my head and press my fingers to my eyes, the pressure lessening some in my head.
"Have you thought about maybe seeing someone professionally? I know it helped me a lot, maybe it would help you too," Rue adds after I'm able to sit back and take more sips of my drink.
"Yeah. I was supposed to talk to Annie but…" I pause and Rue nods her head knowingly. "I guess I can look into it, at least. Thanks Rue, I really appreciate it," I say. Rue simply shrugs and flips her hair over her shoulder.
"No problem, babe. Anytime you need to get away you just come find me. I won't always have the right answer, but I'll sure as hell know at least someway to get your mind off your troubles. We should go play paintball sometime. I'm a professional assassin at it, you'd be impressed," she grins and turns to flick the TV on to some infomercial. I watch her; young, healthy and beautiful. She's going to school, I know, and Prim tells me she wants to be a lawyer so she can advocate for people. She's like the face of hope for HIV. At least that's what I find myself feeling when I stare at her.
"Mind if I hang out a bit?" she asks. "My roommates are partying and I'd prefer hanging out here with you."
"I'd like that," I agree and open the bottle to top up our drinks.
Morning comes to the unwelcome blare of the phone, my eyes casting upon the clock and seeing it's later than I had thought. Sleep was an unforeseen blessing after the ringer I'd put myself through last night.
"Hello?" I answer groggily, unsure what's waiting for me on the other end of the line.
"Katniss? Is that you?"
Johanna's voice is there, a shadow of what she normally sounds like.
"Yeah Jo, it's me, what's up?"
My memory flicks back to seeing her at the funeral with Gale, her face hard and blank of emotion as Peeta gave his eulogy. I had been envious in that moment for the way she was able to shut down and lock out her emotions but now, after, I couldn't help but wonder what she'd been through to be able to turn off like that.
"How are you?" she asks, bringing my attention back to the present. I look down at my pajamas and the mess that is my room and I shake my head, recognizing I'm a bigger disaster than I want to admit.
"I'm getting by. How are you doing? How's everyone… at the centre?"
I want to ask how Peeta is - to know that he's doing okay - but I can't bring myself to put her in that position.
"That's actually why I'm calling so don't hang up. I'll tell you straight because I think, from what I've heard from Haymitch, you've both messed up. I know you didn't do it on purpose since I get the impression you're not the vindictive type. Yeah, I know-" she counters, before I even get the words out of my mouth to protest Haymitch gossiping about me. "Haymitch only let me in because I asked where Peet was. Don't worry about him - he's an asshole but good intentioned, you'll get used to it.
"Okay, so you need to know this: everyone fucks up their first loss, that's just what happens in this community, so you need to get that through your head. When someone dies, any range of people can get pissed about any sort of thing. So I'm saying this for one, because I'm your friend and you're still new and two, because Peeta's been taking it rough. I wouldn't be calling you unless I thought you could help."
She continues on to explain how Peeta has been shirking his duties at the centre, how he's missed more shifts than he's attended and how he looks like death warmed over. The description makes me feel like someone has walked over my grave, a cold shock in picturing Peeta back to using with a needle in his arm.
"And how am I supposed to fix this?" I break into her account of how he's worn the same shirt three times this week. I don't want to be rude - I want to help - but I haven't talked to Peeta since he told me to leave at the hospital and I'm not sure he ever wants to see me again.
To be honest, I know I've probably royally fucked it all up. And I don't have any idea how to start to repair the damage I've done. I don't want to think about it.
I'm a coward.
"Well, Brainless, you can start by using this phone you're holding to call him. Or call Rye, I scammed his number from Peeta's phone. Or go over there and talk this out. Look, this is fucking ridiculous. We've already lost one, don't destroy something that makes that almost bearable - "
"Jo!" I hear the shout on the other line and Johanna sighs, a rustle audible.
"Gale didn't want me to call. Said you'd figure it out. But fuck it. Can you just try?"
I press my fingers to my temple blearily.
"Okay," I mumble, listening to her thank me with my tongue thick in my mouth. When she hangs up I bring my hands to my face and rub brusquely until the cold feeling from before has dissipated.
The call forces me to remember all that has happened since the hospital. The way I'd spent days avoiding everything, how I'd gone to the funeral and hidden in the back to stay out of Peeta's way. Once or twice I'd seen him staring at the crowd and I'd been sure he was looking for me but I'd ducked out of the room each time, not wanting to make his day any worse. Each time I'd left I'd had to hide out in the washroom until the tears stopped coming.
Finnick's ceremony had been funny in the way that some funerals can be recollections of the greatest aspects of a person - Finnick had made a mark on so many that the stories of his jokes and playboy ways had stuck with people, bringing them out in droves to laugh and cry about the good times and the bad.
Peeta's eulogy particularly had broken my heart, his caring words speaking about their relationship and the way Finnick had helped Peeta stay above board on so many occasions. In those moments I'd been sure that Finnick had been as much a brother to Peeta as Rye was. It only seemed to make the loss hurt more.
I'd cried silently for a long time after that, tucking myself away amongst the crowds until it was time to leave the venue.
After, as the group moved to the centre for the wake portion of the afternoon I'd stopped Annie and tried to offer my condolences but she'd been so spaced out that I'm not sure that she remembered any of it. When Prim came home a few hours after me I'd asked her about it, only to be informed that Annie was on medication and was being treated as an outpatient for her mental health as a result of the scene at the hospital.
The loss of Finnick had been more than just a death in the typical sense. All around me, ripples of his impact were fracturing and causing pain and suffering that I wasn't prepared for. Peeta and I were just the first piece to crack and that in itself was enough to break me down. Thankfully after Rue, I feel like I have some kind of handle on my grief, but I still struggle with how I feel about Peeta and the mess we made of our relationship.
Sitting on my pillows, I chew at my nails as I try to figure out the best way to go about this. Johanna's call has moved my worries about Peeta once again to the forefront of my mind and once there, they blind me like an unbearable light.
It's not enough that I regret the way I'd behaved at the hospital; my actions afterwards, even now as I avoid calling him - have marred me and undoubtedly soured me even further for him.
Opening my phone again I see the text from Johanna with Rye's number. My thumb hovers over the call button for a moment as I debate chickening out.
"Hello?"
An exhausted voice picks up on the other end and I contemplate hanging up for a moment longer, unsure of whether it's Peeta or Rye on the other end.
"Rye?" I ask quietly, unsure of the reception I'll get with this call. The pause of silence is deafening to me.
"Katniss? Is that you?" he asks carefully, whispering. I clear my throat, guilt and shame blossoming in me.
"Yes. I'm sorry to call-"
"No, god, no. Katniss, look I'm glad you called -"
He sighs and I can hear in the background as he closes a door. "He's here. He's okay. Just, we've been having a few close calls. He called me over after the funeral because he was sitting with a hit kit."
I suck in a breath and feel the tears prick at my eyes. I can't believe what Rye is saying - I can't bear the thought of Peeta relapsing. Not because of this.
Not because of me…
"It isn't your fault, Katniss," he states as though reading my mind. "Peeta's told me everything and I'm telling you straight up Katniss that it's not about you. But I think you need to make a move here now if you want to stay in this. He needs you but he doesn't want to put this on you. He won't do that willingly because he cares too damn much, the fool."
Rye's voice is sure, his words, calm and supportive, and I can see why he'd been a lifeline to Peeta when he was in too deep to get out on his own.
"Does he want to see me?" I ask tentatively, nervous.
"It's not about what he wants - what he wants is chemical and there's not much that can be done about that. He'll get over it. What he needs is to believe he deserves some happiness. You know as well as I do how much having a support system can help you get through the worst. Peeta needs his and you're a big part of that no matter how you left it. Can you stop by tonight if it's not too late? We'll be up for another couple hours having a Golden Girls marathon," Rye finishes, giving me his address before hanging up.
I hadn't committed over the phone, hesitant to burst once again into Peeta's life, but now that I look at the clock and the numbers that read nine at night, I feel a yawning chasm open up inside me at the thought of Peeta sitting on a couch watching old TV without me. I remember his laugh and that sad look he could get in his eyes. I remember his breath and the feeling of his heart beat against my cheek. I realize I need to do this. Not for Peeta; however bad he's struggling, he's been doing fine for years before me. Not because for Rye or Finnick's memory. But for me.
I need Peeta like I need oxygen. I can't lose him over this.
Getting up, I take in the sight of my current state in the bathroom mirror. Before me my reflection looks haunted, my colouring pale and my lips chapped from the way I've been biting them, my hair now messy and frayed and my eyes hollow. I don't look like I did a month ago, before everything went wrong and I had to endure weeks without the laughter or the touch of comfort that Peeta gave me. The pain from not seeing Peeta, from losing everything that he is in my life since I've met him, has made me a shadow of a person.
I make quick work of showering and pulling on clothes, wrapping my hair in a loose braid before slipping out the door and into the night. The cab I take to Rye's seems to take forever, driving across town with me in a daze. When I reach his building, Rye buzzes me up quickly and I take the stairs two at a time in my haste to quell my nerves.
Standing outside of Rye's door I eventually stall, my heart in my throat and my pulse ricocheting all over the place.
Can I do this?
Can I live with not doing this?
I know I can't. It's that knowledge, the need I have for Peeta and the way he completes me, that makes me step forward and knock lightly on the door.
I feel like I'm going to pass out.
"Pizza's here!" Peeta shouts out from the other side of the door. I hear the lock click open and I freeze, my breath lost, as he swings open the door and looks down at me.
He goes completely still. I can't read his expression.
"Hey! You were supposed to bring pizza!" Rye shouts from behind Peeta, coming over to the door and opening it wider for me. I stay stuck in the hallway, my gaze focused on Peeta as he looks over and above my shoulder, unable to make eye contact. "Are you going to come in?" Rye prompts.
The invitation has Peeta turning and walking away from the door leaving me unsure of whether he wants me to leave or to stay.
"Are you -" I start to ask Rye but he just reaches forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the room.
"Sit, I'll call an actual pizza place," Rye instructs, pointing to the couch where Peeta sits in the corner practically huddling into the arm rest. I sit hesitantly on the other end, my thumb between my teeth as I watch Peeta pick at his nails, his nervous habit returning in full force. Before us, the Golden Girls plays in mind-numbing fashion fulfilling its purpose as a distraction.
Rye doesn't come back and all of a sudden I realize I've been sitting on his couch for ten minutes with someone who clearly doesn't want me here.
This was a mistake.
Getting to my feet, I move around the room, desperate to put some space between us until I can form the words that I want.
"Blanche always had the best life lessons," I hear Peeta state from the couch, breaking the silence between us and surprising me. I pause, turning to see him get to his feet with his arms wrapped around himself protectively.
For as strong as he can look, I can't help but notice how broken he appears now. There are bags under his eyes, like the ones Johanna told me about. There's also a hunch to his posture that rings defeat. My heart seizes in my chest at the battles he must be fighting with the loss of his friend and what's happened to us.
"Blanche is my favourite. Rye puts this on whenever things are… hard. He says 'the soothing problems of aging women are more comforting than anything else in existence'," Peeta adds, finally looking up to meet my gaze. Our eyes lock for a moment and all I can think about is the way he'd felt beneath me and the way he'd made me feel safe in his arms.
"I never actually saw much of Golden Girls," I reply lamely.
"Mom always had it playing when we were growing up. It's kind of bittersweet to watch it, with all the bad memories I have of her but all the good ones I have with Rye."
His words register and make me falter, nervous at the edge of this chasm of suffering that he's had to endure in this life.
"You know I was scared," I blurt out abruptly, cutting through all the thoughts in my head.
"I know."
"And I didn't know what to do. So I was running. I'm not going to lie. I was terrified and I was running away from it. But then I saw you and… I saw you. I realized I didn't want to run away from you," I pause, catching my breath and searching his face for any sign..
"I won't lie to you Katniss, watching you get on that elevator hurt so much, I didn't think I could stand it. I used that hurt against you when you came back because I was struggling. But when I woke up the next day and Finnick was gone and so were you, it hurt even more, and it was kind of like this well that I wanted to get out of but couldn't figure out," he admits and I can't bear the feelings bubbling inside me. "What you did that day - I remember my first loss and it was vicious. She was too young to go and her sister, god, she's still not past it. So I get it, I think, I just… I thought…"
His words trail off and I'm left wondering about it all - about who he lost and how his life has been altered by every person he's known. About the way he almost relapsed when he was at his lowest, but held it together enough to get past it and reach out for help.
"I want to be strong, but this is all so big. I want to keep trying but I need to be able to fail too," I admit quietly, recognizing that we both let ourselves get carried away with our emotions that day and that we need to be aware of our own actions if we're going to get past this.
I look up to find Peeta nodding. "I understand, I think. I want to keep trying, if you do," he smiles slightly, finally stepping towards me. I take the effort as a greater gesture of his willingness to meet me halfway, or at least part of the way.
"Can I -" I pause and bite my lip, wanting to ask but afraid of the rejection.
I don't have to finish asking.
Peeta strides towards me without another word, wrapping me in his embrace and holding tightly to me as though he's afraid he'll lose me.
"I've missed you," he mumbles against my neck, his face hidden but his voice belying the sorrow.
"I missed you too, so much. I'm so sorry for everything - "
I don't get to finish because soon his lips are upon mine and he's kissing me fiercely. His hands are against my cheeks and my body is flush to his so that I get lost in his kiss until he's breaking away and I'm forced to realize he's staring at me intently.
"I don't want apologies. Please stop apologizing. We can get through this," he whispers.
"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to," I quietly reply, finding solace in his arms around me holding me close. The tears of relief seem to overcome us then, Peeta's soaking into the shoulder of my shirt like a reminder of the mark this will have on us and how we will need to learn from it.
Carefully, I toe off my shoes and steer us back towards the couch as Peeta's tears subside and he begins to come back around. I wait patiently, my hands gripping his and offering whatever support I can while I fight my own tears.
"Ugh, I'm sorry," he mumbles after a minute, sucking in a deep breath and shaking his head. "This month has been the worst."
"I know," I add, unsure of what else to say. Where before I would have had some words, now I find myself struggling to say anything at all.
"I um, didn't see you at the funeral?" he questions carefully, his gaze finally holding steady with mine. Though not accusatory, it still stings a little that he'd question whether I'd go.
"I was there. Finn and I were friends too, I couldn't miss it just because of what happened with us. I just… needed to not make your day worse by getting in your way. Your eulogy was beautiful," I add and Peeta nods.
"I wouldn't have pushed you away if I'd seen you. I couldn't stop wishing the whole day that you were there by my side."
His words stab at me with their quiet vulnerability, haunting me in the way we both could have sought comfort on that day.
"I wish I'd been by your side too," I murmur before scooting closer. Silently thanking Rye for the privacy, I lean in tentatively and press my lips to Peeta's, gentle at first until he responds and pulls me until I'm sitting in his lap.
The kiss tells of so much more than just our physical attraction. It reminds me of the hours we spent just talking over a meal, of the closeness that we found laying together in his bed, and of the sweet way he'd smile crookedly at me when he had something to tell me.
When we do pull apart, it's only to be greeted by Rye's clapping and the laughter that accompanies it.
"I was a little afraid that the fake-out pizza would make this reunion a little more difficult, but I see it's going well. Sorry to interrupt though but -" The bell interrupts his words and Rye moves to the door to buzz someone else up. "The actual pizza guy is here. Katniss, would you like to stay for dinner?"
I look to Peeta who stares at me with a hopeful expression and I nod towards Rye.
"Sure. But only so long as there's no fruit on that pizza."
AN: So, this chapter has seen a lot of editing, both before and after the feedback from the last chapter. I wanted to give a huge thank you to both Opaque, my amazing beta, and you guys, the readers, for your amazing feedback and support for this work. You've been incredible and I value all of you to the end and back. Only a few more chapters left...