What are you doing, Mellark? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
Those horrified thoughts are barely able to race through my head before I break off the kiss and take a couple steps back as the full enormity of what I just did begins to sink in. With that realization, I can feel the blood drain from my face to settle as an anvil in my stomach.
"Katniss… I can explain." Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! "I… I really don't know what came over me." You call that an explanation? The whole while that I'm rambling, I have my hands held out in front of me as if they'd keep her from fleeing from my presence.
And why wouldn't she? I had to go in barge through her personal boundaries like the complete idiot I am! All of the last couple months that we spent painfully building up a level of trust and friendship — at least that's what I hope it was — are now possibly for naught because I couldn't keep control of myself.
However, instead of fleeing, all Katniss does is just stand there silent and frozen where she is, with her eyes wide and fingers held to her lips. Then again, why should she flee? This is her house. I, on the other hand, am merely a guest.
Wait… I'm the guest… I'm the guest, and I just violated her in her own home!
What I think is an apology barely has time to leave my lips in a whisper before I make my departure; in other words, I scramble away as fast as possible. In my flight from Katniss' house, I forget about a loose plank on the front steps, which my left foot catches on to send me careening forward to faceplant in a sprawling heap on the footpath. Yet, despite the stinging that I feel on my arms and face, I immediately get up — okay, add to that probable bruising on my legs and torso — and don't stop until I find myself leaning against the counter in my own kitchen.
It's only when my breathing begins to slow that my thoughts begin to clear despite the physical ache that throbs throughout my body. Of course, that mental clearing doesn't exactly help things as I'm confronted with the full enormity of my indiscretion.
Except… part of me can't help but think about how those lips felt on mine, even though they only made contact for just a briefest of seconds, and it almost feels like it caused something to spark within me; I'm not exactly sure what, but it seems to be almost familiar. It also seems utterly terrifying, and whatever fleeting moment of… whatever I may have gained from that is not worth the fact that I may have caused irreparable damage, even when things were beginning to look up for all of us.
Forget about the probable wrecking of the friendship we carefully repaired and propped up; what if my actions ended up setting her recovery back? What if my proximity to Katniss means that I'll continue on the trend of hurting her, knowingly or otherwise? I didn't even stick around to see how she's taking it but rather fled like a coward.
I need to make things right. Granted, I don't know how I'd be able to do it, but I have to think of something fast before— … the hell?
All prior thoughts are forced out of my mind the moment the vision in my right eye gets obscured with an accompanying sting, and my hand automatically goes to it to wipe it. It's then that I realize that my whole face is slick with a warm wetness, and when I remove my hand — for a brief instant, it feels almost glued where it is until becoming unstuck — I see that it's completely coated in a glossy rippled crimson that drips onto the floor… which I now can see has been painted in splotches in that same color and leading all the way to the door… splattered splotches that are fed with a metronomic pattering falling from my arms and face… splattered splotches that coalesce and pool into a larger mass at my feet… like the pool grow at where Boggs' feet use to—
NO! I work to force the image out of my head as I rush to the sink to clean myself off. However, no matter the amount of water that's splashed into my face or how my trembling hands are being scrubbed, the flow of crimson just won't stop; rather all it does is blossom in the basin and swirl in a spiraling vortex down the drain.
I can't help but take a step back from the red cyclone that has formed, but in doing so, I fail to take into account that puddle I had created; it only take my foot landing on it for me to lose balance and be sent crashing to the ground. It's only now that I realize first aid should have been applied, but those cabinets are looking really high right now. There's something almost familiar about how I feel right now.
All that's missing are the berries.
Wild berries… sugar berries… poison berries… she's trying to kill—no, she's trying to protect me. That's what she does. Protect me. But she needs protecting too. I need to protect her! I… I…
Except all I can do is lie here as oblivion tears through the space to reach my useless form.
Though even as the darkness consumes me, I can almost swear that my name's being called…
~oOo~
Through the murky darkness punctuated with a tableau of death and destruction, a soft melody cuts through it all and becomes accompanied with a sweet herbal aroma that I can't pin down. Heralded by a muted light that grows in radiance, those intertwined tendrils of song and scent seem to banish away the darkness while gently embracing me in warmth as I'm lifted into that ever brightening light. The sensation feels strange… yet strangely familiar… and comforting.
It doesn't last however, and light begins to gain shadows and forms within it as I'm pulled into full consciousness.
It must be evening already; because sunlight streams through the window to bathe the girl kneeling next to me in a luminescent golden-orange. I can't believe that I even briefly thought of her as not particularly pretty; even without the light giving her skin a glow and bringing out the shining strands of her anthracitic hair, Katniss is absolutely radiant.
She also seems to be unaware that I'm awake now; rather humming an old tune to herself — I actually think it's one of the military hymns from Two, though her voice adds its own touch to the song — as she works on what looks like a poultice; the contents of the modern first-aid kit and various wild herbs lie amongst each other in strewn contrast at her feet. It occurs to me that this is a reversal of a situation we went through during our first Games; I don't even have to ask whether it's real or not as it's just something I'm completely sure about.
"Hey." Of course, me being me, I just have to ruin the moment with the inability to keep my mouth shut.
And ruining the moment is indeed what happens. For as my monosyllabic greeting leaves my lips, the melody dies in the air the same moment Katniss freezes on the spot before slowly turning her head to regard me. When movement finally returns, the expression of surprise morphs into that patented scowl as she pours all her energy into the work at hand… and away from me.
Yep, she's definitely pissed off. Granted, it's better than her shutting down or something similar. And I don't say anything further as she finishes off the poultice.
Finally, after she gets done applying it to my forehead — after the initial sting, I can already feel an ache begin to fade away — Katniss leans back to mutter, "Don't ever scare me like that again."
With her demand hanging in the air, I might as well say something now: "Katniss, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, but I know I shouldn't have kissed you. Do… do you think we can move past this?"
For some reason, my apology causes an unreadable expression to cross Katniss' face, and her eyes bore into mine when she states, "I wasn't talking about the kiss."
What? "What."
Before I can express my befuddlement any further, she leans in and locks her lips upon mine.
That sensation — the one that I just got a brief taste of when I kissed her earlier — returns… it returns in a tidal wave that threatens to drown me where I lay. Except… I welcome the torrent; I allow it to carry me away to be drowned in a state of being that could only be described as absolute euphoria… the type of euphoria that doesn't satisfy but leaves me yearning for more as it courses through my body.
To my surprise — considering my usual thoughts about, as well as the usual reaction to, anyone's hands on me for a prolonged period of time — when her calloused ones roam under my shirt and across my skin, I actually don't feel an overwhelming urge to struggle against them; I actually don't feel afraid when she lays her body on mine. If anything, I feel myself calmed and grounded by her presence. So I allow my own hands to slide along her back and our limbs to intertwine as the scars on our bodies complement each other before merging as one.
In this moment, there's nothing and nobody to stop us.
In this moment, we are inseparable.
Of course, all good things must end, and both of us part — the scent of earth and leaves still lingers upon me — short of breath as if we'd just nearly escaped the fate of drowning. As we manage to get our bearings back on track—well… almost all of them; though if Katniss notices anything, she's not saying anything about it. Granted, she's not really saying anything right now but lying next to me with a flushed complexion and hunger in her eyes.
Despite every urge within me to try and sate it, I pull myself up to a sitting position and scoot back to rest my head against the counter.
"That… was… that was wonderful. Real or not real?"
"Real."
~oOo~
I move into Katniss' house the same night of the kiss, and we end up resurrecting the routine of sharing the same bed. While our lips and hands find each other way more than those nights on the train, we still keep our clothes on and don't progress beyond that. What's more important is the fact that we're there for each other when the nights become unbearable. And with sleep becoming more stable as a result, we find ourselves ready to tackle the days more invigorated than before.
Just as well considering how good Two is on its word.
We didn't even have to say anything initially. Rather, within a couple days of Two's proclamation, news came from Paylor that there were plans to build a medicine factory here. It took us a while for the implication to sink in: that we would have a place to offer jobs that don't involve workers going into cramped spaces as their lungs fill with coal dust.
When said implication did finally sink in however, even Katniss was cautiously pleased about the turn of events. And when our initial bout of ecstasy wore off and after some discussion about the coming factory would look — in other words, it'd be some pre-fabricated structure set up cheaply — we found ourselves looking at the contract given to us by Marcus. Because of as silly as it may be, we were actually toying with the idea of having a place that would look nice. So with nothing to lose, we asked for specifications as to what sort of space the factory would need, drafted rough ideas about how it may look like, and sent those concepts with the specifications to the address provided on the contract.
Within a week, a detailed blueprint was sent back to us with a request for feedback, which we responded to with approval. Another week later, and just as the ground was being broken, a train arrived laden with shipments of brick and limestone.
While the new construction machines are from the Capitol, most of the workers coming here are definitely from Two, with many of them recognizable from previous visits. Some have even confided that they're planning on settling here.
So that's how, in less than a few months, we've gone from merely hoping that our district didn't keel over on itself… to drafting plans and concepts to rebuild our square better than before.
With the rebuilding going on and it being clear that Twelve is not going to be consigned to the fate of a mere tragic footnote in the history books — the fact that we have on the way helps — many people start moving back in earnest; because in the end, it's still home. Before long, all the houses in the Victors' Village — I had to make sure that the paint room was completely cleaned out first before anyone moved into my former house — are filled to capacity, and temporary prefabricated ones are being brought in to house the excess until construction commences. Of course, despite not being the ones to fix the place up in the first place, there are a few who don't hesitate to voice their displeasure about Two having such a strong presence in Twelve. True to his word, Thom lets those dissenters know as to just how welcome their opinions are and makes sure to point to the train station if they are that displeased about the situation; more often than not, they suck in their pride and stay.
One person who's not returning is Delly. Even if there wasn't something painful for her about lingering here, she tells me that staying in the Capitol — her brother moved to Two at summer's end to live with the Hawthornes; no surprise as Eli and Rory have been close for years — and using it as a base to help people there is a rewarding experience. She's even planning on enrolling in the university there, and the work she does allows her to attend classes free of charge. That my best friend is not going to live here is bittersweet; bitter for the obvious reason, but sweet because I'm glad she's found a niche that suits her. Besides, the other benefit of her job is that it allows her to visit frequently; for which we always have a room available.
At this exact moment though, we're not hosting any guests, and it's just as well.
Because this night, as Katniss and I embrace in bed, we leave the clothes off.