The second time we fuck, it's me that goes to her.

It's something in the pit of my stomach. Something small but fervent, smoldering like a coal in the depths of me. Something. Because in 12, I'm dead. Ever since the Capitol was overthrown, I haven't been able to feel a damn thing. I watched Peeta grow away from me and to another woman, Haymitch drink himself into isolation, my town rebuild itself into something that I can't bear to be a part of - and felt nothing.

Then, Johanna fucking Mason comes out of nowhere and makes me feel again. It's physical, but it's something. And I'm drawn towards it like a rabbit to a snare.

"You're depressed," Haymitch says to me one day. He checks up on me from time to time. Don't know what for. Never ask.

I want to counter with 'you're drunk'; but he's always drunk and there's really no bite or brawn to it. "So?" I say instead. We all are, in our own ways.

"You should do something," Haymitch replies. He rubs his chin like he's thinking, like somewhere through the fog in his mind there are wheels turning. He wants to help me. What he doesn't understand is that when a teenager becomes the leader of a rebellion, loses absolutely everything that has a piece of their heart and then has to live with it - there's no coming back. Not from something like that. "Pick up a hobby. Try something new," he finally says. "Maybe you could travel. The districts are different now. You might like a change of pace."

"Maybe," I say. Not because I'm considering it, but because he's trying to help and I'd rather he not. He nods, picks up his flask, and raises it to me in a one-sided toast.

"It'd be a shame," he says, finger tapping on the side of his flask. He takes a swig, contemplates another one. His brows furrow like his thoughts are unpleasant. "It'd be a shame for us to have fought so hard for freedom, and then not be able to enjoy it. It'd be a shame," he pauses. Burps, because he's so drunk. "If Snow still had that power over us. Shouldn't we try to be better than that?"

I look at him and my chest tightens painfully - because somehow, I can imagine Prim saying the exact same thing.

xxx

I wait four months. I wait until I can't bear it any longer, until the days that used to pass quickly and quietly became something slow and aching. I swallow down my pride and walk myself to Peeta's new home, and ask him how he got into contact with Johanna. He gives me the most curious look and a sideways smile, like he might just know. But he also gives me an address.

Seven. Of course she's in 7. Is it completely desperate to take a six hour train ride and show up at the house of the girl you fucked that one time after that one party, that you still can't stop thinking about?

Yeah, it's desperate. But it's Johanna Mason and I doubt she'd give a damn.

I'm on the train and it reminds me too much of the Games. Effy, shrieking that the table is mahogany. Haymitch, telling us we're probably going to die. Peeta, running to my room when I can't stop the nightmares from making me scream. I almost get off at 4, just so I don't have to go through with it. Make up the excuse that I went to go visit my mother. But she hasn't come visit me since two years ago, and that's when we decided it wasn't a good idea. We remind each other too much of Prim.

I think these sort of thoughts the entire train ride there. I've only been to 7 once and it had been raining at the time. Now, it was sunny out in a too-bright, too-friendly sort of way. The landscape is so beautiful it's almost like I shouldn't be there. I'm glad the Capitol didn't blow it up.

I think these thoughts when I hop off the platform, pull out a map, and wave down a cab.

I'm thinking these thoughts when I'm standing in front of a large wood cabin, knocking on the door and hoping to god or whoever else is up there that I can speak a coherent sentence when or if it opens. I hope it doesn't open. I'm too nervous and this is silly. This is insane. This is -

The door opens and I feel my breath hitch. I'm face to face with Johanna and she doesn't even have the decency to look surprised.

"Took you long enough," she says, a small smile playing at her lips. She pushes the door open and lets me in, starts away without letting me respond. I follow her to the kitchen and something manic thumps against my ribcage. I look around. The cabin's homey and spacious, most things made of wood. The furniture has the fineness of being handcrafted, delicate. I'd never imagined what home would look like for someone like Johanna, but she fits right in and I'm glad she had something to go back to.

"What, were you expecting me?" I ask, tentatively putting a hand on the marble counter. I hadn't told anyone I was coming.

She just gives me a look. A look that says 'I'm not the type of girl you sleep with, then forget about'; 'I'm not just anyone'. And she's not. She's good. Attractive. Too good and too attractive for someone like me. Her personality screams in the face of what mine's become, and I'm really just nothing in the wake of it. She must know I know that.

"Do you want something to drink?" Johanna asks, opening the cupboards and taking out a mug. She turns the kettle on.

"No thanks," I say. I bite my lip. How can she be so casual? Like I'm a neighbor who's dropped by for a visit. Like the last time we saw each other we weren't pressed impossibly close, breathing each others' names. "Listen," I start, because if I don't say it now, I never will. "I came here because -"

"I know," Johanna says, waving it off. I pause, waiting for her to say whatever it is she's about to say. But she doesn't. She puts down the cup while the water boils, coming over to me. She comes too close. She puts a hand on either side of the counter, effectively trapping me in the middle. And then there's that smirk. Because she knows why I'm here and she's up for anything, can do anything. I swallow.

It's like the first night all over again. She's all over me in an instant, hands riding up my shirt, mouth moving against mine. I don't say a single word, I just kiss her back like something about me is on fire. I haven't been in her house for five minutes and she already has me gasping her name before she even has my clothes off. She does whatever I ask her. She likes when I beg. When I tell her I can't take it any longer and I absolutely fucking need her, she just wraps her hands under my thighs, lifts me up onto the counter, and fucks me in the kitchen.

She starts slow, completely at ease. Like she's done this before a million times over. Maybe she has. It's the opposite of me, all nerves and curled toes and she's going down on me on a tabletop that's meant for preparing food and it's so damn scandalous. My fingers tangle in her hair and I've never been a moaner, but I'm definitely moaning now. Loud. Frequent. I can tell she likes it. When I'm finished, she just pulls me into a sitting position, closer to the edge, presses our foreheads together and fucks me with her fingers. She fucks me so hard I get lost in her. I could get lost in her for hours. Days.

We hurt each other. I can't help it. I tear my nails down her back, I bite her shoulder, her bottom lip. When she has me flat on my back again, she's pinning my hands above my head with so much force I know my wrists are going to bruise. I don't care. She can take me however she wants. She can have all of me, because all I know in that moment is Johanna, and I can't think a single other thought.

She raises me up and tears me down again. Brings me to the edge and then pushes me over. She does everything. I forget everything. Her touch is fire, she sets me aflame. By the end of it I'm trembling, lips a quivering mess. She smiles something wicked, leans down and nudges me with her nose.

"Welcome to Seven," she says, and her voice is rasp. I blink myself down from the high and then I actually laugh. I'm still embarrassed. I'm shaking like a leaf. She chuckles and kisses me softly, stirring me back to her.

Second installment to whatever this is lol. Got one more to post to wrap it up.

Enjoy :)