To those of you that reviewed, you are beautiful lovely beings and you make this experience worthwhile! And for those of you that haven't reviewed in a while or at all, you're severely slacking! This is an eventful chapter and I expect feedback! So read it before I explode with anticipation for your reactions!
Oh and also a huge shoutout to MaTM97 for being such an amazing guy and editing these lengthy chapters even when he is super busy with life and obviously has more important things to do than listen to my crazy rants and edit my sloppy grammar. He's a sweetheart and I adore him.
Ch.8- District 2
The train arrived at the station for District Two in mid-morning. They had the whole afternoon for Cato to show Peeta around, another perk of the favored Career districts. But Peeta wasn't upset about it in the slightest. It meant more time with Cato. It meant more chances to bear witness to the spectacle that was a truly happy Cato. Peeta would hold onto the bad news, for now, that President Snow was unconvinced and that they were to go to their separate Districts after the Tour. As long as it meant he got to spend another minute with this Cato. Since their engagement, Cato had been moving with a lighter step and talking with a quicker wit. It was the easiest thing in the world to pull a laugh from him, and the affection he showed towards Peeta was intoxicating. Peeta could get lost for hours in just the simplest thing like touching Cato, holding him or being held, and pressing soft kisses against his sun tanned skin. They fucked once more in the morning before leaving, and two more times on the train ride to District Two. Peeta wasn't sure how much more he could take in one day, but he'd sure try. Anything for that smile that crinkled his nose and sparked his amber eyes.
Upon arriving in District Two Peeta's eyes were immediately captivated by their famous landmark, the Nut. It was quite the spectacle to behold. The mountain towered over all the interconnected towns of District Two, with railways intersecting them all and leading up to the behemoth of a mountain. The peak was capped with snow and Peeta wondered if anyone climbed to the top of it for sport.
Cato filled him in on how the inside was practically hollowed out for their industrial war complex. Ammunitions, tanks, hovercrafts and other machinations of war were stored there. It was also a major production hub of stone. If Cato's father hadn't won the Hunger Games, his family would still be working the stone quarries. It was weird to think that he owed the chance of even meeting Cato to the fact that his father first won the Hunger Games by way of his ruthless killing style.
As they walked through the town center towards Victors' Village, Peeta couldn't help but notice all the attention directed their way, or more specifically Peeta's. It was different than it was at home. The people here regarded him warily if not with outright hostility. Some children pointed and their parents quickly guided them away, while others sneered at the sight of them.
"I had no idea you were so unpopular here," Peeta whispered, as they made their way down a side street, hand-in-hand. Cato was nothing short of defiant in the way he held himself as he walked with Peeta to his home. His hand tensed in Peeta's at the statement.
"Well, I didn't want to tell you over the phone, but yeah, it hasn't been the easiest. Most people here want to continue their alliance with the Capitol. They think they have it good. They view my relationship with you as an act of treason," He replied rather blandly, like it was all terribly boring and not absolutely horrifying. "But it will all be better once you're here with me."
He said it so confidently Peeta almost believed it was true. Then he remembered Cato still didn't know. His gut twisted in guilt, but he ignored it.
"Treason?" Peeta asked.
"They think," Said Cato discretely, "You acted out of defiance to the Capitol and so, by association, I did too. My friendship with Dreg has been on the rocks ever since."
"Who's Dreg?"
"You'll meet him tonight. He's the Mayor's son."
Peeta felt embarrassed. He should know these things about his boyfriend, at the very least the names of his friends. But Peeta was quickly realizing how little he did know about the man he claimed to love. Cato didn't seem to want to say more and his grip was crushing on Peeta's hand, so he closed his mouth and focused on taking in the scenery. The buildings in 2 were even nicer than home, most of them having been built out of the respectable stone and marble they got from their quarries. Even all the streets were paved, a novelty only afforded to the very center of town back at home. The differences between the districts never ceased to astound Peeta.
It was easy to tell when they arrived in Victors' Village, the houses all looked similar to the one he lived in except for the third story they each held. Three stories, now that was something unheard of in District 12. The street was even being expanded at the end with mute Avoxes scurrying about building a set of four new homes.
"You've actually run out of victory homes?" Peeta asked in disbelief.
Cato shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the meanings of it all—that he came from such a world where as Peeta had only ever known poverty and the art of barely scraping by. Peeta was too busy analyzing the houses they passed that he didn't see the woman approaching in time and his shoulder just happened to graze against hers.
"Watch it." The woman hissed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see—"
"You don't need to apologize to her, she could have just as easily moved out of the way," Cato jumped in to interrupt. His brown eyes focused in a steely gaze on the fearsome looking woman.
"You'd do well to keep your boy on a short leash while here, Ryves." The woman sneered again and Peeta had to contain a gasp at the sight of her razor sharp teeth capped in gold.
"If you keep an eye on where you walk." Cato retorted before tugging Peeta's hand and continuing them on their path down the street. Once they were out of earshot he explained, "That was Enobaria. She's a true psychopath. She's infamous for ripping out the throats of her victims, which is why when she returned she filed her teeth to sharp points."
"My god," Peeta looked back, worried she may be following. She was someone he never wanted to face alone. "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble with her now."
"Fuck her, I'm not afraid of her." Cato's chest swelled in righteous anger. "She doesn't get along with people well. My father said she never truly adjusted after returning."
Peeta then felt an odd sense of sadness for her. It wasn't her fault she was this way, just another victim of the Capitol's cruelty. His mind was quickly taken from such matters though, when a bright red flame burst forth from one of the homes to their right and a sharp squeal rang down the street. Even some of the Avoxes looked up from their work to see what the source of the racket was.
"Cato, Cato, Cato!" The little firecracker shouted before running in her gold sandals and purple jumper.
Cato let go of Peeta's hand and bent his knees, swooping her up in his arms when she lunged at him and he hugged her close. Peeta looked on fondly, knowing this must be his precious Cassadine. That was one thing he knew for sure.
"I missed you oh so terribly!" She sighed into his neck. "Papa was horrible of course, making stupid little comments every time you were on the TV. But I made sure he'd be on his best behavior today!"
"Thank you, Cassy." Cato kissed the top of her head before setting her back down.
She then turned and held out a delicately small hand to Peeta. Her presence was much grander than the actual size of her body.
"You must be Cassadine," Peeta said, shaking her hand in his lightly. "I've heard only great things about you and I must say nothing does justice to the real thing."
"Ooh, I like him." Cassy replied, a tremendous smile breaking out across her face at Peeta's charming words. She rolled back on the heels of her feet to stare him up and down before turning abruptly serious. "So you're gonna marry my brother?"
Cato laughed watching their interaction.
"I sure hope so," Peeta smiled in reply.
"Good. You have to keep him happy. I hate it when he's sad and he's just been unbearable without you." She spoke with her hands on her hip and a large amount of confidence for young girl.
"Hey!" Cato mocked hurt.
She turned to Cato and made a face he'd never seen on such a young girl, one that managed to portray her exasperation with her brother while also communicating the subtler notes of her affection for him. She was a fierce and independent little girl, and she knew exactly who she was already. Peeta liked it.
"C'mon, Mom and Dad are waiting and you know how they hate that." She marched off back towards the house.
"How old did you say she was?" Peeta asked, trying to contain his laughter at his sister's attitude.
"Eleven, almost twelve." Cato noted. His eyes glassed over probably with fond memories.
"Bossy little thing," Peeta noted. Cato turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.
"You have no idea. Now let's get this over with." He took Peeta's hand once more and led him to the second house on their right.
Cato's childhood home was surprisingly conventional. It had almost the same layout as his victor's home, but it was decorated with much nicer furniture. A large grandfather clock stood sentry at the end of the hallway by the stairwell that led upstairs. To the right they entered the kitchen and dining room where a massive oak table was placed with seating for eight. This is where they found Cato's parents.
Cassadine was next to her father, who had his face hidden behind a book while his mother sat down at the end of the table putting on a toxic, glittering pink nail polish. Neither of them looked up from what they were doing when they entered.
"Papa! They're here!" Cassadine said while tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.
He finally set down the book and took in his guests. His eyes slid over his son disapprovingly before coming to land on Peeta with an infiltrating stare. He had hard brown eyes and sharp eyebrows of displeasure, but he was instantly recognizable to Peeta as Cato's father. His blonde hair matched that of Cato's save for the grays that peppered it. His shoulders and chest were just as broad and massive as his son's. Everything about him was big and foreboding, something Cato pulled off well at the beginning of the Hunger Games.
"Hello then," he said. "You may call me Mr. Ryves or Sir, welcome to my home."
"It's a nice to finally meet you, sir."
Peeta walked around the table with an extended arm that was met with a speculative stare before he shook it for no more than a second and let it go. Peeta swallowed reflexively and backed away, hoping he hadn't made a mistake.
"Mama!" Cassadine said forcefully. She finally looked up from her task with a bland look on her face. She might have been pretty at one point with her petite frame, soft feminine face and red hair, but the apathy of her life had drained any uniqueness from her existence, leaving nothing but a shell of a woman desperate to adorn herself with fine styling's and jewelry to distract from her banality.
"This is him, then?" She asked her son, taking in the sight of Peeta before making a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth. "I don't see what's so special, but then again I missed the games this year."
She went back to applying polish to her right hand now, which required a finer pace with her non-dominant hand. Peeta felt sick to his stomach for Cato. His mother hadn't even watched the games he was in! He shot a look at Cato, but his face was already closed off, hiding any of the true emotions he was feeling at the moment.
"Well I wanted to introduce you all to him and that was it, we'll be leaving now." Cato motioned with his head towards the door for Peeta to follow his exit. At the door he stopped to ask, "Will I be seeing you at the Mayor's house tonight?"
"Of course, he's a dear friend of ours. You know that." His father replied dismissively.
Cassy followed them out of the house and continued with them on their tour of District Two, interjecting her commentaries on top of Cato's or correcting him when she thought he told something wrong. It was extremely endearing to see Cato interact with his sister. He was a doting and protective brother and Cassy could easily get whatever she wanted from Cato, all she had to do was pout. He took copious notes.
Slowly, day bled into night and before they had realized it, the time was upon them for the festivities to begin. There would be a whole feast for the District to participate in after the speeches. Peeta and Cato's stylists collected and styled them before they delivered their scripted remarks before an unenthusiastic crowd. Most people seemed offended by the mere presence of Peeta, but he noticed a few with a hopeful glint in their eyes. They were mostly quarry workers shoved towards the back of the large crowd.
Clove's family stood off to the side of the stage where the families of the tributes that died typically stood. They all had the same inky black hair and pale skin. Peeta supposed the woman looking off into the distance with a frozen look and tears in her eyes was her mother. Even sadistic tributes like Clove had families that missed them. Peeta was more than glad to get off that stage and join the Mayor and other politicians of the district for dinner.
The sounds of music and festivities could be heard filtering in through the windows at the Mayor's home. The Avoxes were still preparing dinner and they all lingered in the foyer while cocktails were distributed. The Mayor marked the arrival of the Ryves' boisterously and it was startling to see such a different version of Cato's father. He was friendly and warm with the Mayor as they both hugged and even his mother, dressed up to the nines, was found to be engaging in lively gossip with his wife. They didn't even pay notice to their son or his fiancé. One could even forget the evening was in honor of them.
Cassadine was dressed in an emerald green tea dress and flounced over to her brother's side. It was an interesting experience after having been the center of attention the whole tour to feel so sidelined and unimportant at their festivities in Two. Effie made her rounds soaking up the party, while Haymitch stood by the Avox with the wine jug, harassing him to top his glass off after each gulp. Lyme eschewed the company of most, sitting on a secluded bench near the stairwell eating a plate of hors d'oeuvres.
While they talked amongst themselves on the fringes of the party, a young man close in stature to Cato, but maybe an inch shorter with wiry brown hair and a scar across his nose came over to them.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your fiancé, Cato?" The man asked with a deep timbre. His rusty brown eyes held a cruel mirth that offended Peeta, which he assumed did the same for Cato as he bristled beside him.
"Dreg, this is Peeta," Cato motioned with a stiff hand between the two of them. "There, now you can go back to schmoozing."
"You mock me Cato, but you might try it yourself sometime, or you may just find no one has your back when you need it most." Dreg's thin eyebrows slanted up in a knowing look.
"I'll have his back." Peeta interjected, stepping forward with his arms folded over his chest in defiance.
"Me too!" Cassy quipped on her toes trying to seem taller than she was.
"That's so sweet it makes my stomach ache. Or perhaps I'm just hungry. I think I'll go harass the cooks."
Then Dreg swept from their presence, throwing one final smirk over his shoulder. Peeta heard the distinct sound of Cato's knuckles cracking and rested a hand on his shoulder to try and soothe him.
"Don't listen to him, plenty of people have your back."
"Not here." Cato grumbled before turning into Peeta and pulling him close, nuzzling the side of his head with his nose. He inhaled the scent deeply. "That's why it will be so much better once you're living here. You can change minds, I know it."
Peeta felt his cheeks redden, and it wasn't because of Cato's compliment and so he deflected.
"You're messing up my hair," Peeta huffed a laugh and extricated himself from Cato's arms.
It was finally time to be seated for dinner as a woman in a polka-dotted black and silver pantsuit announced dinner was ready. Peeta didn't feel so well just yet and he pulled back from the crowd.
"I'm going to use the bathroom first," He told Cato. He motioned with his hands for him to go and get seated, not to wait on account of him. "I'll be right there."
Peeta floundered at a loss in the foyer for a moment before taking up the stairs two at a time. His stomach felt oddly hollow and discontent. He just needed a moment to collect himself. This was all going to be over so soon and he wasn't sure he could do it. Was this what the rest of their life would be like? Months separated from each other, only to have a few weeks out of the year reunited, probably as mentors at the Hunger Games? It was too hellish of a torment to imagine for the time being, and so Peeta quickly scanned the hallway for a bathroom.
Instead he ended up inside a large study, probably the Mayor's workspace. The television played idly in the background with images of Peeta and Cato dancing and kissing at the Capitol party. There we vast amounts of memos and notepads scattered across the mahogany wood desk. Peeta wondered if any pertained to them. He shouldn't be here. Just as he turned to leave, a sharp beep emitted from the television and drew his attention. Two more beeps followed before the image switched from the television to a monochromatic studio.
A woman appeared on the screen—she was not like any news anchor Peeta had ever seen. She had straggly gray hair and spectacles that were perched at the edge of her nose as she read from a piece of paper just handed to her. This wasn't meant for Peeta, he could get in even more trouble if caught listening to her report, but then she began to speak and Peeta couldn't move away.
"This is an update on the situation in 8. We are raising the threat to a level 3 alert. The textile factories have been completely shut down and all production halted until further notice. More forces are being moved into the area as we speak."
The television screen flashed from the studio to a clip from the town square of District Eight. Peeta recognized it because they had just been there the week before. It was an ugly, urban district that stunk of industrial fumes and everyone lived on top of each other in tightly-packed buildings and squalor. In the town square, banners of Peeta and Cato still hung in the background, tattered and frayed, swaying in a turbulent breeze. But that's not what caused Peeta's breath to hitch and his heart to stutter. No it was the images of a vast mob of angry people wearing rags and homemade masks over their faces rioting in the town square. A building was on fire. Bricks and pipes were thrown with violent force at the army of Peacekeepers marching on them. The Peacekeepers opened fire with their automatic rifles indiscriminately on the crowd. It might have been the same scene from District Twelve before they left for all he knew. Was this happening across all of Panem?
"Oh god!" Peeta gasped when the images turned too bloody and violent for him to look on any longer. Bodies, blood spattered and lifeless, fell to the ground and more rushed forward to take their place in the fight.
No, this wasn't just a fight this was an uprising. Peeta swung about to rush from the room.
"Terrible, isn't it?"
Dreg stood blocking the doorway with his arms folded neatly over his chest, his biceps bulging. The sneer on his face whitened the jagged scar across his face making it stand out against the smooth tan of his skin.
"I'm sorry, I was just looking for the bathroom—" Peeta began to explain.
"See what you've started? All that violence and death is on your hands. You're the boy on fire, and everything's burning because of you."
Dreg inched closer to Peeta as he simultaneously backed away. Peeta was unsure of his intentions, but his hostility was apparent. It radiated off him in waves like air warped by heat. The sounds of rioting and gunfire filled the silence between them like a prelude.
"We should get back to the party," Peeta said.
Sweat broke out across the back of his neck. No one knew he was up here, Cato thought he was in the restroom. Peeta edged closer to the mahogany desk.
"I was wondering what it would take," Dreg speculated. He brought the meaty fingers of his right hand up to his chin, stroking the stubble there.
"Take what?" Peeta asked in confusion. The sounds of the uprising from the television suddenly ended as the broadcast ceased and the channel switched back to clips from the Capitol party.
"What it would take to break your spirit."
Dreg lunged forward at a frightening speed. Peeta dove around the mahogany desk, but his kneecap slammed into the chair which was behind it and he grunted in pain. Dreg pulled back, faking his forward attack, and then laughed cruelly to himself at Peeta's flailing.
"You don't seem to know much about combat, you just might want to start learning," Dreg warned. Stray strands of his wiry brown hair hung across his face through which his calculative eyes watched Peeta, deliberating.
"What's going on here?"
Cato's voice broke through the stagnant air of fear and uncertainty like a beacon. Peeta saw him standing just inside the doorjamb, his face slack with confusion, but his eyes darted about drinking in the scene before him.
"Oh look, its Peeta's bitch, come to save him." Dreg sneered at Cato, turning away from Peeta so he could face the newest arrival. "Tell me Cato, what's it like to lose all self-respect? It must hurt. Luckily you've got Peeta here. I bet he's good at stroking your ego, or is that something else he strokes?"
"That's it!" Cato roared as he launched himself forward, fists at the ready.
Dreg was prepared for it and he dodged to the side. Cato tried to course correct but his velocity and blind rage dulled his reflexes. Dreg tackled him from the side and they both slammed into the desk. The lampshade rattled and fell off, crashing against the floor.
"Cato!" Peeta shouted.
He ran around the desk to try and help, but Cato snarled at him to stay out of it. Dreg cracked Cato's head backwards against the table, but Cato rebounded upright into a head butt that split Dreg's lip and knocked him back a few feet. That gave Cato the time and room to pull up and charge Dreg. Both of them smashed into the wall behind them. The noises that escaped their lips made it sound as if two rabid dogs were fighting to the death. Dreg landed a punch to the ribs, but Cato was unfazed. He just used his tight grip against Dreg's shirt to pull him forward and slam him back against the wall harder. Then he pushed his arm up and against Dreg's windpipe, crushing down against it until he was gasping for air. His fingers scrabbled against Cato's forearm, desperately trying to get purchase and pull free.
Peeta watched in horror as Dreg's face slowly turned a worrying shade of blue. The situation had deteriorated from bad to worse in seconds and suddenly Peeta found he was worried for Dreg's safety. Dreg's eyes darted back and forth from Cato to Peeta pleadingly. He obviously wasn't prepared to lose his life tonight.
"Cato, stop this!" Peeta begged, coming to his side and trying to rein his unhinged boyfriend back under control. "This isn't you!"
Cato finally broke his crazed stare from Dreg's face to glance at Peeta before it dawned in his eyes what he was doing.
"You used to be my fucking friend!" Cato spat at Dreg before pushing off of him and stalking away towards the door, dragging Peeta by the wrist behind him. Dreg coughed and hacked as he tried to breath in quickly, refilling his lungs with much deprived oxygen. Peeta watched him to make sure he was okay, but Cato kept tugging.
"And you used to be the star child of District Two, I guess things change," Dreg snarled, wiping the blood from his lip across the back of his palm. Then he collapsed in a chair against the wall and Cato swept Peeta from the room.
Dinner was an anxiety-inducing affair, but Dreg never came down to join the feast. Peeta worried to the point that his stomach grew upset and he ate no further than the first course. Cato's friendship was forever severed with Dreg now, and Peeta couldn't help but feel responsible. It seemed that everything that went wrong anymore could be linked back to Peeta. The most troublesome of all though was Cato. Peeta watched him throughout the remainder of dinner with a wary eye. He had seemed wholeheartedly prepared to choke the life from Dreg, and it terrified Peeta. This wasn't the man Cato was supposed to be.
Then things only got worse as the festivities in District Two came to a close later that night and Peeta realized he was out of time. They were walking back in a strained silence to Cato's house. It was a cloudy night as nary a star was visible in the roiling black sky. It reflected the thunderous mood that had been rolling off Cato in torrid waves since the fight. Cassadine had left with her parents earlier, but not before telling Cato to quit being so moody.
"Peeta! I've been informed we have half an hour before we must report back to the train," Effie suddenly appeared behind Cato and Peeta, effusing inappropriate amounts of enthusiasm. "Time to say our goodbyes."
Cato's brooding face sharpened as he looked at Peeta with a new skepticism.
"Oh—okay, thanks Effie," Peeta said jarringly, trying to communicate with Haymitch—who stood behind her—to give him a moment. He quickly attuned to the situation and guided a confused Effie away.
"Haymitch, this dress cost more than a month's salary! Do not stretch the sleeves!"
"What's he saying? You're staying though, right? We haven't heard anything from Snow, no news is good news, right?" Cato asked in a breathless rush. His voice dropped in volume. Bit by bit he was growing more panicked in tone, his eyebrows slowly creeping up his forehead. "Right?"
Peeta reached for Cato's hand, but he snapped it from reach. Peeta pulled back from him, beseeching with his eyes for Cato to listen. Cato's body was coiled tight like a woodland critter he had stumbled upon and frightened, but it wasn't yet sure whether it should run or stay.
"Cato—" Peeta clogged up. Fuck, he didn't know how to do this, but he knew it shouldn't have come to this. It was too late. "I—I wanted to tell you, I did, but I didn't want to ruin things. We were so happy there for a moment and…"
"What are you saying?" Cato demanded. His voice had an uncharacteristic quaver to it that tore at Peeta's heart.
"Snow approached me the other night at the Capitol Party," Peeta finally revealed. It killed him to have to tell Cato this and even more so as the look of comprehension and betrayal spread across his face. His whole body tensed up and then he lashed out at Peeta like the crack of a whip.
"You lied to me?" Cato just about screamed. Peeta flinched. He raised his hands to plead his case, but Cato turned his back to him and stormed down the empty street. Then just as quickly he whipped back around and marched up to Peeta who didn't budge an inch. "You let me believe we had hope! You let me think this whole time it was all going to be okay! How could you do that to me?"
Peeta opened his mouth, but found it arid as the desert they passed through to get to District Two. His gift with words failed him.
"I didn't lie, Cato!" Peeta gasped. "I just didn't know how or—or when to tell you."
Peeta reached for Cato again, but he was shoved back. Peeta's heart jumped into his throat. Cato drew in on himself, not even realizing he'd just shoved Peeta.
"Wait, wait," Cato said. Peeta watched Cato's mind reel before him as he paced quickly to-and-fro. "You knew when you proposed, didn't you? You knew it then and still you asked me to marry you? How are we supposed to get married when we live a thousand miles apart?"
Peeta looked downcast at the stone pavement. He didn't have an answer for that; he didn't have an explanation for why he did any of those things now that the time had come. How were they supposed to marry?
"I don't know if I can do this again!" Cato shouted. He turned his back to Peeta and lifted his head towards the sky. The black clouds swirled in distress above them.
"What are you saying?" Peeta asked wide-eyed with fear. This couldn't be the end. Not now, not so soon. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.
Suddenly, Cato spun around and came at Peeta. He cowered in on himself, internally scared of what may happen, but not willing to step back. Cato didn't hit him; he clung to Peeta's shoulders with a wild fire in his amber eyes. When he spoke it was with a controlled agony that sent electric shocks throughout Peeta's nervous system.
"We could run away, tonight. Just you and me! You know we can make it on our own out there! Please…"
Peeta was shocked by the desperation in his voice and the absurdity of the idea Cato was clinging to. Peeta pried Cato's sweaty hands from his shoulders and held them in his. He looked directly into Cato's eyes with nothing but sympathy and love, but shook his head.
"You know we can't do that. We have responsibilities, people that need us that we can't just leave behind. You've got Cassy. I've got Prim, my dad. The Capitol would come for them and use them against us."
Cato deflated in an instant. It was an absurd long shot and Peeta knew he was just grasping at straws. But then, just as quickly he swung back to fury. His emotions fluctuated uncontrollably.
"So what, this is how it's going to be? We wait another five months only to have a few weeks together during the Hunger Games? This is bullshit!" Cato kicked at the ground with his outburst.
"What do you want me to do about it?" said Peeta. Now he was furious too. It was unfair to cast the blame entirely on his shoulders when he was just as much the victim here as Cato, but in his rage he seemed unable to see that, just the lies by omission Peeta made. "You don't think I feel the same way? That every day apart from you is like a toxin to the heart? It's like eating the nightlock all over again, and it eats away at my heart every waking minute until one day I'm going to wake up and there's nothing left, it's all withered away!"
Peeta stopped his rant to catch his breath, staring furiously at Cato who didn't even have the courtesy to look at him. He just continued to look over Peeta's shoulder.
"You forget I'm not the bag guy here."
"We're all bad guys to someone." Cato stated before his face fell completely, all the fight leaving his body as his body pulled in on itself like a child reprimanded. Then he started to walk away. "Looks like it's time for you to go."
Startled, Peeta turned to look behind him to find Haymitch standing by an open door to another black car. He stood watch with an unreadable expression on his face. Peeta swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth and turned back around to Cato, but he was already halfway down the street, almost to his home. It was a swift kick to the gut and he struggled to find his breath. A crushing pressure had enveloped his rib cage, squeezing in on his lungs and heart. It struggled to keep beating against the crushing of his spirit. Then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and a strangled sob slipped from his lips before he pulled it together.
"Let's go home, Peeta," Haymitch said as he delicately guided Peeta back towards the car, arm over his shoulder in sympathy.
As Peeta watched the houses of Victors' Village sweep past in the car before they pulled out of sight, probably never to be seen by him again, he wondered where home truly laid. If not with Cato in District Two and not in District Twelve, where was Peeta meant to belong? Winning the Hunger Games was supposed to be the end of it, an endpoint he never even thought they'd reach, but now that they had, he found that it was really only the beginning of a much larger struggle. There was no home left to return to, only the forward march of progress and a wake of burning ruins behind him.
