Author's Note: Back again as promised. I also changed the title of the story to something a little more fitting (to me anyway) This was actually one of the chapters I had the most fun writing, given the ammount of material and the characters I'm building into this arc, which is definately getting more intense. It's definately hard to keep my two main characters apart, I can only hope I've done it in a way that keeps the story interesting. I hope you guys like it. Read and Review! Cya soon!

Just like his older brother had taught him all those years ago, Peeta threw all his weight into the punch. A sharp pain bloomed in his hand as his fist collided with Cato's nose. When the taller man stumbled back in confusion, inadvertently stepping on the white box that now lay crumpled on the ground, Peeta stepped forward and delivered another effective blow to the man's face with his other fist.

The tall man spluttered and bent forward, his hands covering his face, "Okay. I kind of had that coming," Cato groaned, cupping his nose.

Peeta grit his teeth. He felt himself seething at the sight of the taller man. His eyes quickly trailed to the ruined birthday cake on the ground. Keeping his anger in check was all he could do to stop himself from striking again.

"Do you think you're funny?" Peeta grunted as he felt his pulse continue to race, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wanted to surprise you," Cato replied defensively, checking his nose for any signs of blood with the tips of his fingers. "It mostly worked."

"You're a fucking idiot." He shook his hand quickly, wiggling his fingers in an attempt to eradicate the pain.

Cato looked at him with the all too familiar look of tepid humour. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

The truth was he didn't know how he felt. Shocked crossed his mind before he realized it was too underwhelming a word to describe how it felt to be shoved against a tree and kissed by a man he hadn't seen in months. In the woods. Out of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" Peeta asked, frustrated, his mind still reeling.

Cato shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's your birthday," he replied matter-of-factly. "I missed you."

Peeta scoffed, blue eyes once again trailed down to the ruined cake. "Yeah. I bet you did."

The smaller man turned and continued walking as Cato followed him, a few steps away, keeping a very short distance between them and once again inspecting his sore face for any signs of blood.

"You didn't answer my question," Cato huffed, trying to catch up, finding his injuries slowing him down as low hanging branches hit him in the face as they rapidly walked on.

Peeta shook his head, "I'm not talking about this with you. I'm going home."

"Can I come?" He asked with a smile, "It's been a while."

"Three months."

"Who's counting?"

They walked in silence for a little while. Peeta, angry and confused that he was being followed, suppressing his inner-joy at his return while furious at his disappearance in the first place and Cato, laughing to himself at his failed romantic surprise and overjoyed to see the man he loved again.

Before too long streetlights and mailboxes came into view and Peeta was relieved that he was almost home, less so that he was now without the cake he worked so hard on with an ex-lover in tow.

"Hey," Cato said, grabbing the smaller man by the shoulder and slowing him down. "I'm sorry."

Peeta shrugged him off and kept walking, "Please just get the hell away from me. What did you think would possibly happen?"

"I thought you'd be happy to see me," he answered, grabbing Peeta's arm once again and slowing him down. "Can't we skip this whole thing?"

Peeta turned on him "I'm not happy to see you." The lie felt so good he wanted to believe it was true. The hurt look that passed across Cato's face pleased him. He wanted to hurt the man as badly as had been done to him. "Did you really think you could just turn up out of the blue, with no word in months? Did you really think I wouldn't be hurt that you just took off?"

Unsure of what question to answer first, or how to answer them, Cato hung his head and reached for Peeta's hand, only to have it smacked away. "What can I do? I promise I'll explain everything."

"Like what?" he asked, holding his hateful stare. "Why the hell did you leave me there? Fuck, I was so scared and all I could think about was you!"

"I know-"

"-You didn't care then. Why do you expect me to believe you care now?"

Once again, he didn't know how to answer. Peeta turned away and continued walking. Cato frowned, wanting so badly to make amends but unsure if he could do anything to fix what he had smashed into a million pieces. He was anything if not persistent. He was also good at being a hypocrite and decided he would not let Peeta walk away from something they both built, that he himself had walked away from.

"Please," Cato called, walking after him. "Just give me five minutes. Please, Peeta."

Peeta stopped. He was hesitant for a moment. As the snow continued to fall, he shut his eyes for a moment and let the sadness of the past year that he had tried to get past wash over him. He opened his eyes and turned back to the man a few feet from him. Cato had hurt him. His reckless abandonment played a part in making him turn to the unloving arms of Finnick, who he now knew would never love him, would never care about him the way Cato did when they were happy. For a long time, Cato was a constant in his life. Until the day he decided not to be, Peeta couldn't breathe without him. Now after the storm had finally begun to pass, he was getting a piece of the life he used to have back. The life he wanted so badly. Peeta knew he could forgive him.

He sighed and nudged his head in the direction that led home. Cato smiled at him thankfully, closing the gap between them in a few steps.

As they continued walking, the taller man chanced a move by caringly reaching for Peeta's soft hand, and lacing his fingers through it.

"Did you make a cake?" Cato asked sheepishly.

"Can you stop talking until we get home?" sighed Peeta, letting his hand go.

The two men walked in silence the rest of the way. Anxious to get home, out of the cold and to the bottom of Cato's reasoning, they walked at a fast pace. Occasionally his shoulder would brush against the taller man's arm and the lightest of any physical touch or contact would be felt on his skin for minutes. Besides the silence, the entire walk felt so familiar, only missing the loud drunken behaviour. It felt nice to be reminded of a time when Cato would take his hand and walk him home. It almost seemed as if time hadn't moved them both on. It seemed as if Cato had definitely decided to play his return that way, by brazenly reappearing in his life as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed. The thought of it made Peeta angry, but it was still nice. He was no stranger to distorting the truth.

By the time they reached the front door, Peeta's fingers felt numb. Cato, too was visibly cold despite his effort to hide it. Opening the door, the warmth inside his house was inviting and an instant relief.

"I can't imagine Noah will be too happy to see me," Cato said softly.

Peeta shot him a look as he hung his jacket on the coat rack and removed his gloves and hat, "That would make two of us."

Cato blew off the comment, taking offence to it all the same. "Jesus," he hissed quietly, "Can you at least hear me out before you write me off as the worst person in the world?"

He didn't reply.

They walked down the hallway, past the living room and stairs to the kitchen. Peeta immediately noticed the small wrapped box on the counter next to a red envelope with what he assumed was a card inside. He smiled to himself and wondered what it could be, recalling his gift of a car in need of restoration the previous year.

As Peeta moved for the fridge and Cato gingerly took a seat at the dining table, Noah's footsteps descending the stairs were heard.

"Happy Birthday man," Noah called as he moved down the hallway and into the kitchen, missing the sight of the tall man at the table. "I knew you were working the late shift tonight, so I thought now would be a good time to-" He immediately noticed Peeta's half smile and shrugging shoulders. "What?"

He followed Peeta's gaze and turned around. He could feel his own eyebrows furrow. "Cato," he nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to his brother and shooting him a questioning look, only to have the same look mirrored back at him.

"Yeah, I've been getting that look a lot tonight," said Cato in an ill-fated attempt at humour.

Peeta noted the look of concern in his brother's passive face and turned to him. "Can you wait for me upstairs?"

His presence had shifted everyone's mood. "No problem," he replied casually, the note of awkwardness in his voice betraying his confidence. "I'll just be…yeah…upstairs," he stammered, pointing his finger up and quietly exiting the room.

Both men stood in silence for a moment and listened to the sound of retreating footsteps. When Peeta was sure the man was out of earshot, he retrieved the carton of milk from the fridge and closed it behind him. Noah handed him a glass from the high cabinet before leaning over the counter. Peeta took a seat on the opposite side and poured his glass.

"No cake?" Noah asked after a silent moment, still unsure of how to approach the situation.

Peeta took a sip from his glass, "I didn't have enough time. Work was pretty busy tonight." He found himself lying already, unsure wether or not he wanted to disclose the fact that Cato ruined it. It seemed as though mentioning it would merely add more fuel to the fire. He knew Noah didn't need another reason to think poorly of the man upstairs.

"What is he doing here?" Noah blurted, confusion and concern still covered his face.

"I don't know," Peeta replied defensively, noticing the look in his brother's face accusing him of not being completely honest. "I really don't. He just showed up tonight on my way home."

Noah nodded. "Are you two-"

"-No." He knew what the question would be. Even if he was wrong in his guess, he knew any question associating he and Cato couldn't be true. "I really don't know anything. Where he's been, why he's really back. This all just happened half an hour ago."

"Do you really think you should be seeing him now?"

"What else am I supposed to do? He's here."

"Do you want him here?" Noah shot him a knowing look.

"I don't know." He held the gaze. "I need to think about things. Nothing's happened yet. Jesus, are you not getting that he just showed up? I didn't plan this."

Noah crossed his arms and sighed. "It's just that… after everything you told me about Finnick and what happened, the fact that you're unsure of what's going to happen, that you'll even consider hearing him out is troubling."

"What does that mean?" Peeta asked, taken off guard by his brother's accusatory tone.

"It means that I think you're lonely. That despite the effort you're making, you're still not thinking clearly. And to be honest, I'm concerned that you'll jump at the chance to get back together with him when he spoon feeds you a bullshit story as to why he left in the first place."

Feeling insulted by the comment, he couldn't help but feel angry even as he recalled how quickly he let his heart run after Finnick or running into Johanna and propositioning her. Noah was right. Every single word of it was right on target. Since Cato had left him, he'd been trying to fill a void in his life. Peeta didn't know if he was angry that it was the truth, or angry that his brother knew him better than he knew himself.

"I don't want him staying here," the older man said carefully. "I'm serious. If he's going to be around you need to be careful, you can't go back down that road with him again."

"What road?" Peeta found his voice raising a little, "Being a big fuck up? Or getting fucked?" he spat bitterly. He was completely aware of how he sounded and the venom in his tone, but he didn't like the question and the implications that came with it.

Noah looked at him angrily, "Both."

The younger man made a note of the vein in his brother's temple and the anger in his voice. He didn't know what he wanted, but it definitely wasn't an ultimatum.

"I won't let him take you back there, Peeta," Noah continued, speaking in a calmer but firmer tone. "If you think I'm going to sit back and wait for you to get arrested again, or watch as you turn into a cokehead you're out of your mind."

It was a side to Noah that Peeta rarely saw. As he looked up from his glass of milk and into the blue eyes that looked almost like his own, he knew the man was serious.

"I mean it. If it happens again, I'll kill him." Noah didn't make threats. But Peeta knew it wasn't an empty one.

Peeta nodded his head, anger gone and feeling a little scared by his brother's words. "You have to trust me. I'm not going to screw things up this time. I don't want to be that guy anymore."

"I do trust you," Noah replied, "It's him I don't trust."

"If we do manage to work this out… I'm not saying we will, but if we do, it won't be like last time. I'm not using anymore, I don't think he is either."

"You don't know that. You haven't seen or spoken to him in months."

"It won't happen again because I won't let it happen," Peeta replied, "If things don't work out it won't be because of any of the crap I was using."

"Okay," Noah looked at the counter and nodded. "Just remember to come to me if things get bad. And if I catch you using again, I'll kick your ass. You know that right?"

"Yes," he said with a nervous drum of his fingertips. He swallowed the lump in his throat, "It wasn't him. It was me."

"What are you talking about?"

Peeta sighed, always hating to bring the topic of his dark days up with the brother he put through hell. "After mom and dad died, I was the one who came to him and asked for the stuff. I wasn't just going along for the ride. Cato was trying to keep up with me."

Noah frowned in disappointment, trying his best to constructively reverse the blame and keep it directed at the person he deemed responsible. "He was getting it for you. You were in grief, he should have known better than to screw with your head the way he did."

"Yeah, but I was the one who decided to do it," Peeta replied, surprising himself at the lengths he was going to defend someone who hurt him. "In hindsight, it was wrong, but you can't blame anyone but me for my actions. I know you're my brother and it's your job to defend me, but you can't here. I knew what I was doing the whole time."

"Okay," said Noah replied with a sigh, "You're not telling me this to defend him are you?"

"No," Peeta replied with a shake of his head. "I'm trying this new thing where I hold myself accountable for my mistakes. Next, I'll try working on my selfishness."

Noah laughed and gently shoved his shoulder, "Look at you, growing up."

Peeta's eyes trailed to the small wrapped box on the counter, next to the red envelope. "What did you get me?" he asked with a smile?

"Open it," sighed Noah, crossing his arms in anticipation, a large grin brightening his features.

Peeta slowly pulled the wrapping off the small leather box. He looked up at his brother for confirmation before opening the lid. A silver watch sat in the velvet lined box. He carefully pulled it out. Ticking sharply, silver and chrome, a genuine Rolex. "Holy crap."

Noah chuckled, amused at the reaction while at the same time complimenting his own gift giving abilities. "I thought you'd like it."

"Thank you," Peeta said, looking at his brother before turning his attention back to the watch, in awe of the gift.

"I rescued that from the snow." Noah nodded to the card, drawing Peeta's attention to it. "Found it sitting on the doorstep when I came back from work."

Peeta looked at it for a moment, "Probably a card from Grandma Mags," he chuckled, turning his attention back to the watch.

"She might have put $10 in it this time, after all you are 19."

Letting out a laugh, he smiled, admiring his watch and his brother, forgetting about Cato who was patiently waiting for him. "He's waiting for me."

"Right," Noah said, a little disappointment in his voice. "He killed our plans tonight." He grasped the carton of milk and returned it to the fridge. "I thought there'd be cake and openly mocking some stupid reality TV show."

"Sorry to disappoint," he replied with a raised eyebrow. "We'll do something cool tomorrow."

"Okay. Just remember what I said." Noah said with a pang of concern in his voice.

"I will," he replied as his ears pricked up to that familiar note in his words.

He anxiously walked away from where he sat, finding his stomach already in knots as he began to ascend the staircase.

"Do you have anything to drink?" Cato asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I don't drink anymore," Peeta said quietly as he sat on the window sill, admiring the way the snow felt heavier than it did a short while earlier.

The streets would be covered with snow come morning, the notion of a white Christmas would ordinarily make him feel giddy. It was the tall man sitting on his bed that stopped the rush of excitement. Cato looked at him patiently, ready to give him answers to the questions he didn't know if he wanted to ask.

Things were getting better while getting worse. A year could pass by in what seemed like an instant, leaving a long path of destruction in his life. The thought of confronting one of his problems directly and digging up strategically repressed feelings seemed daunting for that time of night, on his birthday no less. The idea of simply glossing over it seemed nice, pretending it didn't happen and continuing on none the wiser. Peeta knew he could never do that. The answers he wanted when Cato was gone were no longer a nagging pinch. Cato was in his room, on his bed, willing to explain it all away.

"Where did you go?" Peeta asked, eyes still focused on the falling snow outside.

"I went to stay with some friends," Cato replied, nervously running his hand up and down his thigh. "I wanted to come back earlier, but the longer I put it off, the harder it was to explain everything."

Peeta snorted an obnoxious laugh, "Can't argue with that logic, can I?"

"I know, it sounds stupid-"

"-That's because it is stupid."

Peeta reached for the half empty packet of cigarettes that sat on his desk while Cato sat quietly, clearly uneasy with the direction the conversation was heading. As Peeta held the cigarette in his lips and lit it, he found himself enjoying the silent moments, enjoying watching the man squirm, all the while knowing there was a healthier way to handle the situation.

"Why didn't you call me?" Peeta asked, carefully exhaling a cloud of smoke out the window, knowing how much Noah detested his smoking indoors - or at all. "Taking off is one thing, but you completely disappeared."

"I didn't call because I didn't want to talk to you," he confessed, exhaling deeply as getting the words out in the open was a huge pressure off his shoulders. "I knew if I spoke to you, you would convince me to come back, and I would have been desperate enough to."

"How can you say that?" Peeta asked, mouth gaping and hurt. He knew Cato was about to confirm his worst suspicions, that he was the cause of their demise, that his attitude and personality had changed so much, Cato had to leave him. "What happened, what did I do that was so bad you took off without a word?"

"Shit," he sighed, running his hand across his tired eyes, "I couldn't take it anymore, Peeta. I didn't know how to handle all of it. You were just so unhappy…"

When Cato saw the hurt register on Peeta's face, he stopped talking. His own words were hurting himself as much as they were the man by the window. Peeta took another drag of his cigarette and looked to him, nodding his head once to continue.

"I didn't know what to do. When you would lie in my arms and cry, I could handle that. When you would sit here without talking for a whole day, I didn't know how to help you… and the worst part was, I don't think you wanted my help either." Cato rested his hands on his knees and hung his head, waiting for Peeta to respond. "It was almost impossible to help you when you wouldn't help yourself."

Peeta shook his head angrily, "So it's all my fault? Fuck you." He could hear his own voice raising, but he didn't care. He stood to his feet, flicking the cigarette out the window and moving over to where the taller man sat. "You didn't say anything to me and I wanted to get better, and I did without you. Are you really going to sit there and blame me for this?"

"I'm not blaming anyone!" snapped Cato, "I was failing you-"

"-So your solution was to take off?" Peeta interjected, "You think you're failing me? and leaving without so much as a goodbye makes up for it?"

"No!" Frustrated he slammed the headboard of the bed with his hand, silencing Peeta's berating. "I wasn't thinking clearly, in case you had forgotten we were trashed the night I left. I wasn't planning to leave until I did. I'd considered it a few times, but that night, you were so out of it you could barely walk, let alone run. You dropped in the alley, I tried to help you but you wouldn't get up, so I left. I figured there was no point in both of us going down. When I got home I started packing a duffle bag and I blew town without thinking."

Peeta crossed his arms and leaned his back on the wall, "While I got arrested," he spat, shaking his head, disgusted, "Shit, I can't believe I cried over you, that I was worried about you. You clearly had a different set of priorities. I was a mess, what the hell was your excuse?"

"A mess?" Cato repeated in disbelief, "Mess doesn't even begin to describe the way you were at your worst. You were so angry, the way you lashed out at everyone, you were a different person." He suddenly heard his own words and the way they sounded, he didn't like putting Peeta on trial, but he had to make his point. "It was only a matter of time before you turned on me." Cato almost choked the last words out. Defeated, he dropped his hands in his lap and sighed heavily.

"I know I share some of the blame in this, but it was your choice to take off," he muttered, agitated and frustrated, "God, you should have told me. I hate you for what you did."

Cato looked at him, gritting his teeth, "I couldn't stay. I knew if I stuck around I could never leave you in the state you were in. I needed to be away from you."

"So why the hell are you back?" Peeta raised his arms in frustration, "You needed to get away from me so badly, why did you come back? Why would you subject yourself to burden again, Cato?"

"Because I made a mistake," he said softly, rising off the bed and standing in front of the smaller man, "I missed you so much, every day I missed you. I couldn't breathe without you." He placed his hand along Peeta's jaw, rubbing gently, "I want us to be like we were a year ago. I'm so unhappy without you. Can't we just… start again?"

Peeta pushed him away gently, reminding himself of the hurt and betrayal he had felt for months. "No… no, I don't trust you anymore."

"You have to forgive me, Peeta," Cato said quietly as his eyes filled with tears while his hands grasped the smaller hips and held him against the wall.

He rarely saw Cato so vulnerable. "Why?" he asked with a croaked voice.

"Because I love you," the man answered, moving his lips forward to capture Peeta's mouth. After a few seconds of resistance, the smaller man opened his mouth, allowing Cato's tongue to enter his own. The large hands pushed into his hips, holding him still as their kiss continued. After a few moments, Cato pulled away, panting softly, "Do you still love me?"

"I don't know," Peeta admitted. It was the truth. He'd had a hard time identifying what feelings were real, and what were substituting something else.

"You have to know how sorry I am," he replied, pulling away, "Please. Give me a chance to make things right," he pleaded, reaching for Peeta's warm hand, grasping lightly.

Peeta stilled for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Noah thinks I have a tendency to jump into things impulsively… He's right. I think I need to be alone for a while."

Despondent, Cato released his hand. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not giving up on you, on us."

He leaned in for another kiss, which Peeta returned gently. Just when he thought he had started getting his life in order, life threw him another curve ball. When Cato kissed him, he knew he'd have to fight to resist him.

Peeta sat at the counter admiring his new gift. It took him a few moments to notice the red envelope in the corner of his eye. He placed the watch down and reached for the card, carefully opening the envelope and fishing it out.

The glossed card, plain white with the words Happy Birthday printed on the front. He opened it. Blue eyes immediately widened when he realized who the card was from.

Peeta,

It hurts to write this because I know you never want to see me again. I'm still not sure what I wanted for us or what I wanted from you, but I will always regret the way we left things. I hurt you and nothing I say or do can take it back.

There are moments I want to call you, hear your voice and your laugh, and times when I want nothing more than to feel you in my arms again. I don't write this because I hope to change your mind about me, but to remind myself once more what it was like to be with you, how important it was, and how much I cared for you, before I let you go for good.

I can't change. I can't give you what you want, if I could I would be telling you this in person. I don't want you to change either, I hope you find someone who will treat you the way I couldn't, the way you deserve to be treated.

You are so special to me. Happy Birthday.

- Finnick.

Breathing slowly, he read the letter again, slowly and carefully in the hopes he misread it, missed the subtext, an underlying meaning in Finnick's carefully constructed words.

There was nothing more to it. Finnick wouldn't change. He ran his fingertips across the cursive black ink slowly as his eyes filled with tears, one stray tear rolled down his cheek and landing on the words. He had hoped for Finnick to ask for another chance, a promise that things would be different so he could finally return to his rightful place in his caring arms.

Finnick was going to move on now. The card was the man's final act before letting him go. Peeta didn't want to be let go, he just wanted the man's love.

He set the card down and buried his face in his hands as he sobbed uncontrollably for a little while. Wounds were still fresh and his heart still hurt. As he cried, Peeta told himself he would shed the last of his tears before he too, let go of Finnick once and for all.

He would only allow himself the relief of his tears for that one night, his birthday.