Author's Note: Hi Readers. I'm not sure how many of you will enjoy this chapter, and although I would consider it partly filler, it does set up a story in this current arc. I wanted to go back and explore some backgroung into a relationship I have established as well as a prior event and shed more light on it while also telling it through another character's eyes. So as always, read and review. Warning: This chapter contains very cute and romantic dialogue... and sexually explicit material. Thanks for reading.

Peeta sat at his desk, his legs outstretched with his ankles resting on the window sill, Sonic Youth played softly in the background. With a burning cigarette in one hand, his free hand struck a key on his keyboard as he journeyed back through numerous old photos featuring he and Cato. They were so in love then, he wondered when that stopped being true.

The card Finnick had sent him on his birthday sat open on the desk with a few creases in it from being handled constantly, read over and over again. Peeta didn't know how he could treasure a possession so fondly, yet hate the very sight of it so much. The card had rattled him which was more than a little disconcerting. It was clear to him that he wasn't moving on, that he wasn't ready to let go, given the way he broke into tears after reading the words over and over again.

He wanted to destroy it, burn it, be rid of it. It was nothing more than a gesture filled with sad words detailing why he could no longer be with the man he loved. Like rubbing salt on a wound, what was intended to be an apology was - in Peeta's head, morphed into a hateful act of malice.

Whenever he had a chance to think, distract himself and focus on anything else, Cato's words echoed in his head. "I'm not going anywhere, I'm not giving up on us." The words repeated like a record jumping, the more he tried to forget, the harder it was. In the last week a question plagued him, one he constantly asked himself but could not bring himself to answer. Did he love Cato?

Cato had given him his space, calling only once, waiting patiently for Peeta to decide what his next move was. Despite trying to accept the notion of being alone, it saddened him to think how lonely he was without someone to call his own. He didn't like the feeling of needing co-dependence, in fact he hated it. But the loneliness was palpable and the more he thought about it, remembered what they were once like, the more he missed it and wanted it back so badly.

Maybe he could pretend like it didn't happen, that it was a bump in the road, a rough patch they needed to go through together to come out the other side stronger.

It sounded so stupid it couldn't possibly be true.

What was so bad about not being alone anyway? Cato loved him, still did, always would. Peeta didn't know what he was trying to prove with his refusal to forgive and forget, a sense of independence? To show others he didn't need anyone taking care of him? He already knew it was true, the idea of making himself miserable to prove something vapid to himself was what hurt more than anything else.

Peeta laid on his back on the cold cement with his head resting in Cato's lap as he watched the stars, wide eyed and curious. Cato took another swig from the shared bottle as he stared into the bright blue eyes, chuckling to himself as Peeta continued his rant.

"Who would betray his beloved in their hour of need?" Peeta asked nobody drunkenly, "The veriest coward would become a hero! Equal to the bravest."

They sat on top of a water tower, a secluded space only for them amongst the trees. Cato stared out into the night, watching the peaceful dim surroundings as Peeta provided him with endless stories of his current fascination, Ancient Greek History.

Cato couldn't be sure what brought on the sudden interest, it could have been the History class they shared together, or the eccentric teacher who had a way of captivating the smaller man with his long teachings of tales involving love, gods and power, maybe Peeta really didn't want him to flunk their upcoming finals. Maybe Peeta was just a young man in love.

"You're drunk," Cato chuckled, running his warm hand up through Peeta's shirt, fingertips brushing against soft, warm skin.

"Alexander the great fell in love with his boyhood friend, Hephaistion," Peeta slurred with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow, "King Cleomenes loved Panteus, the most beautiful, bravest, valorous youth of Sparta." A smile ran across his face, expressing his beautiful features as his fingers rose up to trace along Cato's full lips.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the guard rail while Peeta moved closer, tightening himself in the larger man's hold. "So what happened?"

Peeta sighed, his fingers wrapping around Cato's wrist as he looked up at him. "Cleomenes killed himself after he was exiled to Egypt. Panteus was so devastated upon finding him that he plunged a sword into his chest as he kissed his dead love in faithfulness and attachment beyond death."

Cato leaned down and kissed the smaller man's forehead, "You sound like an audio book version of the damn text book."

"I didn't learn that in class," Peeta replied, reaching for the bottle and taking a large swig, his eyes squinting at the harshness of the liquor before letting out a small cough as it went down. "But since you brought it up, what did Plato say the best kind of friendship is?" he asked, referring to the practice exam but asking that question in particular for his own reasons.

He knew the answer already but kept it to himself for a moment as Peeta looked at him expectantly. "That in which lovers can have for each other."

Letting out a drunken laugh, Peeta sat up, moving his body into Cato's lap, the tips of their noses touched as his legs straddled the taller man's waist. "Socrates wrote-"

"-Who's that again?" he asked teasingly.

Peeta looked at him unambiguously, "The Greek philosopher. He wrote that a lover feels the utmost joy when he is with his beloved and the most intense longing when they are separated. The pain is such that he prizes his beloved above all else, utterly unable to think a bad thought about him, let alone to betray or forsake him-"

Cato cut him off with a kiss, brushing his fingers behind Peeta's ear. "You talk too much."

Peeta smiled into Cato's lips, "In time, the beloved, who is no common fool, comes to realize that his divinely inspired lover is worth more to him than all his other friends and kinsman put together," he said softly, kissing Cato again, slow and chastely. His thumb wiped across the man's lower lip, "Neither human discipline nor divine inspiration could have offered him a greater blessing."

He smiled at Peeta for a moment, wanting to laugh at his drunken rambles, to be embarrassed even if it was only the two of them, but unable to feel anything but love for the boy. "I want to say something romantic but I can't top that."

"You can tell me you love me," Peeta said, moving his lips down to his neck, placing soft kisses there, whimpering softly as their bodies began rocking into each others.

Cato closed his eyes again, his hands finding the button and zipper of Peeta's jeans. "I love you, Peeta."

Peeta stood on his knees, loosening his belt and pulling his pants down his thighs. He broke their kiss for a moment to remove his shirt, sighing heavily when two warm hands ran up his chest, back down to his hips. Peeta's thin hands reached for Cato's zipper, slowly pulling his pants down as their lips met again and Cato's hands pulled his body in closer.

"I love you so much," Cato whispered before letting out a low whimper as Peeta's hand wrapped around him.

Cato stood in the cold, his hands stuffed in his pockets providing him little relief from the cold air he was surrounded by. He knocked on the door almost too softly, remembering a time he didn't feel like an unwanted burden, when he could simply knock and be welcomed into a warm house by the people who used to feel like a second family to him.

Peeta had made his decision, one he simply could not accept. As badly as he wanted to take back the hurt and the pain, he couldn't. Now all he could do was plead for forgiveness and beg for a second chance to make amends, no matter how embarrassing and foolish he seemed.

When the door opened, he was greeted by Noah's displeased face. He'd been expecting that, was it too much to ask Peeta open the door?

"Hi," he greeted, cringing inside at how ridiculous he must have looked, waiting in the cold for someone who turned him down. "Can I come in?"

Noah shrugged, trying his best to look indifferent, knowing his hostile feelings were already slipping through the cracks. He pushed the door open and turned his back, moving down the hall for the stairs.

"Thanks," Cato offered, unsure of wether he wasn't heard or just ignored. "It's freezing out." He looked at Noah, hoping for something, a response, acknowledgement, something.

"Peeta!" Noah called up the stairs. He casually leaned on the banister, his blue eyes fixed on the taller man as they waited in the most awkward silence either man had encountered.

His body language, he abrasive attitude, even the way he watched him. Not staring, watching, as if the older man suspected him to be anything but good intentioned. Cato looked at the ground, finding it harder and harder to face him, even to the point of feeling a little intimidated. "Look man, I know you don't want me around-"

"-It's not up to me," Noah interrupted, tone less aggressive than both men expected. "It's Peeta's house too."

Cato nodded, eyes still glued to the ground. "If he wants me to go, I'll go. But if there's a chance for me… I can't turn my back on him again, even if he doesn't want me." He could hear the way he sounded, a little desperation blended with genuine remorse.

Noah set his jaw for a moment, considering all the things he wanted to say to the man. "Yeah, I know," he replied, offering only the smallest of gestures as he remembered a time he didn't dislike the man before excusing himself back down the hallway as Peeta emerged from his bedroom and stood at the landing of the staircase.

"Hi," Peeta said with a smile.

"Hey," Cato replied, smiling back.

"So you're not even going to apply?" Cato asked, unaware that his mouth was gaping and his eyebrows were furrowed. He stood on the other side of the counter in front of the cash register, his arms slumping over the large metal contraption.

Peeta grinned from his place behind the register, "Why would I do that? Look around," he proclaimed proudly, gesturing his arms, "People go to college to get their dream jobs. I've already got mine."

Cato looked around as he closed his mouth. He saw a run of the mill bakery. Nothing special, very plain, exactly what a bakery should look like. A pristine glass display case filled with glossy cakes and delicious looking pastries and deserts in a wide array of baked goods, strikingly arranged. A few tables with chairs were situated in front of a large pane glass window beside the door. But he knew, this was were Peeta wanted to be. Peeta didn't see the crack in the beige wall by the entrance, he didn't notice the L shaped scratch in the counter, he only saw possibility. He was special that way, Cato grinned back. It made sense to him now.

"So you're going to wash dishes for the rest of your life?" He asked smugly, leaning over the counter, inching his face closer only to be shoved back half heartedly.

"Screw you," Peeta laughed, cringing in faux disgust, "I can bake. It's what I'm good at."

"You're good at lots of things," Cato reminded with an index finger pointing upwards, "Don't you at least want to go to culinary school? Can you seriously tell me you're okay earning $7.50 an hour-"

"-You're forgetting tips."

He frowned. He could certainly support Peeta's reasoning. He was a simple man. He knew Peeta would never be a lawyer, a doctor, a CEO of a multi million conglomerate. The young man wanted nothing more than to have passion in what he did in life and a living. Cato admired that passion that so many didn't have and never would. But at what cost?

"You're too smart not to at least enrol for a year. Take some classes, feel things out. How do you know things won't change?" He asked with a hint of desperation.

Peeta looked at him knowingly, a small smile appearing at the corners of his lips. "Thing's wont change."

"What if they do?"

"Cato," Peeta sighed, his smile wavered for a moment but didn't leave. "I'm happy here. The money is crap okay, but it doesn't matter to me."

"It should," Cato replied, feeling like what he said was a little too harsh.

"Well, it doesn't," he said with a simple shrug. "When I get up every day, I'm happy. I have everything I want. I want to wake up every day and be excited to come here and do what I do best, and I am. I can work out the rest later. I don't want to waste any time being miserable trying to find my calling when I already have. I don't want to resign myself to doing something my heart isn't in for something as simple as money."

Peeta sighed and looked down at the counter. "I'm happy. Why can't you be happy with me?"

Cato thumped his chin up with his index finger, before slowly moving in and kissing him gently across the counter. "I am happy for you."

Peeta smiled back warmly, "Thanks," he muttered into the full lips that remained pressed against his own.

"What do your parents think?" He asked, pulling back and resuming his position leaning over the marble countertop.

"They think I'm crazy, which I can't really blame them for. When I'm running my own bakery they'll be salivating." He chuckled and quickly peeked his head in the direction of the kitchen behind him, hoping his boss wouldn't catch him slacking off.

"What about Noah?" Cato asked, eyes eyeing the chocolate chip cookies predominately displayed directly beside him.

The smaller man tilted his head from left to right as if unsure of how to answer the question. "He's okay I guess. I expect he thinks he's going to have to write me a few checks from time to time, but we all knew he was going to be the big shot of the family."

Cato smiled as he idly let his fingers drift closer to Peeta's. "He'll probably talk your parents down."

"Probably," Peeta agreed with a nod as their fingers met across the counter. "Don't worry about me. Things are going to be good."

He truly believed they would be.

As they continued to kiss, Cato's large hand gently rested around Peeta's neck tenderly while the other slipped underneath the back of his jeans, gently caressing his behind. Peeta's own hands fisted in Cato's shirt, pulling at it forcefully as he fell back on the bed, pulling the large man down on top of himself.

It had been too long since Cato had a chance to kiss Peeta the way he wanted to, whenever he wanted to. He didn't take the opportunity for granted, knowing that it could end at any moment, he was lucky to be given a chance to go that far with him. He took what he could and treasured every second of it.

Peeta broke the kiss, furiously unbuttoning Cato's shirt and sliding it off but not before he let himself take a few seconds to shamelessly feel the curves and rips in the man's upper body, his strength and scent was more overwhelming than Peeta could remember. He shuddered as Cato's warm hand once again found it's way down his pants, wrapping around and pulling at him tightly. He looked into the man's eyes, watching each other as he was touched by expert hands that knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how he liked it. His breathing began to increase as the movement in his pants became more frantic. A gasp followed by a loud groan issued from his trembling lips and Peeta had to remind himself to be quiet, biting down on his lip. A slick wet sound in Cato's hand reached his ears as his pants turned into quiet moans. "Stop," he gasped, the words almost killing him.

Cato retracted his hand immediately, running it through his hair in confusion as Peeta collected himself. He moved in, kissing Cato's full lips slowly, his hands pulling at his own pants while he removed himself from the denim confines slowly, the larger man helped him out of his shirt. Peeta laid naked in front of Cato, desperately hard and stroking himself slowly as he watched the tall man smirk and follow suit, pulling down his pants and freeing himself before slowly moving in and wrapping hooking his arms underneath Peeta's shoulders, resuming their sweet kiss as he comfortably settled his weight on the smaller man.

"I missed this," Cato whispered fervidly, hot breath dancing on the shell of Peeta's ear.

Peeta smiled and shut his eyes, "So did I," he replied quietly as he rolled his hips upward.

They began to move together again, kissing anxiously as their groin's pushed close, Peeta squirmed for a moment as he adjusted to the weight and his hands clung to the large muscles in Cato's back. Cato pushed himself back up, holding the smaller man by the hip as he lined himself up with his entrance. As always, he looked down at Peeta as if waiting politely to go on, with a quick nod from the man he slowly pushed past the first ring of muscle, groaning softly. Once inside, he grasped the man's arm tightly before thrusting up and sheathing himself completely inside of him.

"Fuck," Peeta gasped, using both of his hands to pull the large form down on top of himself, his lips pressed against Cato's neck as his legs wrapped around his hips. His body involuntarily continued to buck against the larger man, moving his hips up and down slowly as Cato met his rhythm and began thrusting in and out. Peeta stared at him for a while, losing himself in ecstasy as the familiar pain began to diminish and the sublime pleasure settled in and took over. He smiled at the look of concentration in his eyes. He let himself remember how good it felt to be touched again. He was going to take what he could get, even if it was something he was unsure he wanted, from the only man he was unsure about.

Cato didn't mean to hurt anybody. It certainly wasn't his intention that night. Fuelled by the intoxication of alcohol and the surge of adrenaline that the cocaine provided him he kissed the man he loved in a bar one night. His mouth opened against Peeta's, he thrust his tongue inside and tasted the warm caverns of his mouth, enjoying the sweet aftertaste of vodka. Deep and passionate, he wanted to do it forever. To Peeta, it was just another kiss, an afterthought. He watched his little blonde haired love slump back down in his seat, eyes half lidded, drowning the uncontrollable pain away in a hard drink.

He frowned because he'd feared for quite a while that Peeta was indifferent to his presence, that the man wasn't as in love with him anymore. Nothing was ever enough, not the dulling alcohol, the euphoric drugs, not even his lips. He'd spent the past weeks mentally saying goodbye to him, wishing it wasn't true, telling himself it was all in his head. Peeta didn't have to say it, Cato knew it was already in motion. They were falling out of love. First Peeta, then him. Peeta's growing depression only fuelled the uncertainty.

That was when the voices were heard from across the room. They sparked his attention immediately, and after a moment Peeta's too. Anger was a lethal substance to add to the list in his system that night. Cato wasn't sure if it was the taunting directed at him and Peeta, or his inner most fears about him coming to light, but he found his hands turning into fists quicker than they should have.

A new fear introduced itself to him as the three men cornered them outside, eyeing Peeta over him. They were going to hurt him, the once almost innocent, optimistic and hopeful man he couldn't help but love. As his fists connected with their flesh, he kept an eye on Peeta, disorientated and clumsy but easily able to hold his own.

"Get up, Peeta!" Cato desperately tried to get Peeta to move, yelling at him stridently, frustrated that the man was emptying the contents of his stomach in the back alley. "Get the fuck up! We have to go!"

As the sirens approached he panicked, pulling Peeta to his feet with blood stained hands and trying to bolt. They didn't even make a mile before Peeta gave up, falling to his feet and groaning in sickness.

"I can't," Peeta whimpered, shaking like a leaf, "Please."

He removed his hand from Cato's hair, letting it lie flat on his stomach and shuddering as he felt the man's warm breath tickle his thigh. An overwhelming sense of anxiety filled him as lips gently kissed his thigh, slowly moving up to the blonde patch of hair below his navel. He let his legs lie flat on the bed. Everything suddenly felt unwelcome to him, making him want to dress as he watched the larger man remove his face from between his legs and move to sit on his knees.

He laid back down, promptly pulling the cover over his naked form as Cato moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and pulling him in tightly, their fast cooling skin stuck together as the man's lips kissed his neck.

"I love you," Cato said softly, pulling at Peeta's shoulder and moving him to face him. He kissed Peeta slow but passionately before staring at him, waiting as painful seconds turned into long moments. He noted the way Peeta looked away from him, knowing the words he wanted so desperately to hear wouldn't emerge from his mouth.

"Look…" Peeta said softly as Cato's hand moved off his shoulder and fell onto the bed.

"It's okay," he said. Peeta had admitted the way he felt by saying nothing, exactly what he was afraid of.

Peeta drew his knees to his chin and sighed softly, "I'm sorry. Things aren't the same anymore."

"Will they ever be again?" he asked, reaching out to hold his warm hand before placing his lips on it. "I know things have changed, I fucked it all up and I'm so sorry, but please tell me there's a chance for me to make things better."

Their eyes finally met. Peeta was silent for a moment, crafting his words carefully, deep in thought. "We can try."

It wasn't much, but Cato took it. At that point even the hope for something was something. "You can learn to love me can't you?"

Again, he was quiet for a moment, knowing his silence and reservations were killing him, but unable to help but tread lightly and not make promises he couldn't keep. "Yeah."

"Then we'll be just fine," Cato muttered, feeling his heart break a little only to be pierced by a tiny pang of hopefulness as Peeta leaned in and kissed him gently.

"Please, Peeta!" Cato snapped in frustration. "I can't carry you! You have to run!"

Peeta's eyes closed. Cato knew he'd passed out, ignoring the horrifying thought in the back of his head that told him he needed medical attention. He looked up ahead, a faint glow of red and blue lights coming closer and closer as the whine of the sirens began drawing in on them.

He had no choice. He'd prepared himself for the time they'd have to part ways. Even without the drugs he'd supplied, Cato knew there was no healing Peeta. The irreparable damage had been done. He had tried so hard to fix him, mend the broken pieces every way he could, but it was done. He was beyond repair. Peeta had given up. He felt like he had no other choice but to do the same. He'd spent months caring about him, showing him the love he refused to offer anyone else. He didn't know if he had it in him to abandon him, not the way he was, not at all. But he was running out of choices quickly.

As Peeta laid semi unconscious in the deserted street, Cato took one last look before running away.