a/n: i know, i know. it's been too long. i'm sorry :( but alas, here it is! hope you enjoy!
as always, thank you thank you thank you for the reviews/alerts/favs. you all are so, so amazing and i don't think i say it enough!
Katniss clutched the wooden bow in her fingers tightly as she suppressed an eye-roll, the snap of a twig sounding loudly in her ears.
She turned to Peeta, trying for both of their sakes to disguise her frustration with a patient, cool look as she half-heartedly cautioned him to watch his step; she knew he couldn't help it though, his steps were just too heavy, too careless.
She walked a few strides ahead of him, her own steps much softer than his. It was from practice, she supposed. Practice from years of hunting with her father, and then with Gale. The two men she'd always hunted with were just as experienced as her, if not more, and somehow had mastered the art of treading across the fallen twigs and branches and leaves without so much as making a noise.
This was just Peeta's first time, she reminded herself. He probably didn't even know how vital and necessary stealth and quietness was to hunting.
Her breath hitched as her eyes caught sight of a small, round ball of fur; a beautiful rabbit, it's coat different shades of gray. She took a step closer to it, signaling with her fingers to Peeta to remain quiet, to not take a step.
She pulled her bow up, grasping it tightly with her left hand. She determinedly pointed her shoulder towards the small animal as she pointed the wooden contraption towards the ground, placing the shaft of the yellow arrow on the arrow rest. In quick, swift moves she attached the back of the arrow to the bow string with the nock, placing three fingers on the arrow before drawing it, aiming the sharp edge towards the rabbit.
She pulled it backwards just a tiny bit more, and – crunch.
She released the arrow, and it flung a mere three feet before landing into the dark soil in front of her. She sighed as the rabbit looked towards the two of them, eyes wide and alarmed before he scurried deep into the depths of the woods.
She turned to Peeta, forcing a smile on her face that she was sure looked somewhere between a grimace and frown and he rubbed his neck, a nervous habit.
It was his first time in the woods, hunting, she reminded herself for the tenth time, and drew a long breath.
Despite her growing aggravation, she found it difficult to even pretend to be angry with him.
He had made such an effort – finding her the bow and arrow, driving her all the way into the only forest he knew – she simply couldn't be angry
But she also couldn't accept his efforts or bow without giving something back to him. She never even allowed small gestures of kindness to be sent her way normally, in fear that she'd somehow have to reciprocate them – and here, with Peeta, he'd done more than just mere gestures of kindness. She already owed him far more than she cared to. And with that, she remembered that she wasn't here to hunt – she had no need here, where there was never a lack of food. She was here to teach Peeta.
Peeta embarrassedly muttered an apology, kicking the small twig he'd snapped under his foot, a dark shade of red creeping up his neck.
Katniss shook her head, almost smiling at him as she stuck the bow out towards him, waiting for him to take it from her before walking the short, few steps to where the arrow landed.
"Well, normally," she started a she walked back towards him, noting that the blue in his eyes was almost a darker, turquoise shade, surely a reflection from the green of the trees and the grass. The yellow freckles on his skin danced across his skin wildly, making him seem a just a little bit younger. "Normally, the arrow would go straight ahead and plunge right into the animal but …"
"But," he interjected, his eyes annoyed, "I'm really loud and not only did I scare the rabbit away, but I startled you and made you mess up."
He huffed loudly, sticking the wooden bow back in her direction, "Maybe I should just let you hunt out here while I wait in the car – at least that way you'll actually be able to do what you came all the way here to do."
Katniss bit her lip. The idea did seem perfect; she'd missed the woods, the stillness and quietness that was so familiar to her, the thrill of watching an arrow fly through the air before shooting straight into her prey. And with Peeta's incessantly loud, thumping steps, she was sure to get not one kill on what she was sure was her only day in the woods until she was back home.
But she couldn't let him do that. And in a weird way that she couldn't quite understand, she didn't want to, either.
Peeta had brought her to these woods, and he deserved to share them with her. Kills or no kills
She shook her head at him, smiling as she shielded the sun from her eyes. "Don't be silly, Peeta. We're here to teach you to hunt."
Picking up her arrows, she neared him, standing behind him, his back against her chest and pulled his hands up, securing the bow tightly in his fingers. He was taller than she was and bulkier, and she had to extend her arms far to hold his fingers over the wooden bow.
She felt his muscles, taut and defined under his cotton shirt, tense and she lowered her voice, attempting a soothing voice she only really used around Prim.
"Don't be nervous, don't be tense." She said, her lips close to his cheek, her voice hushed. "Just relax. When you move, try to pivot your body. Try not to step, and try not to make any noise."
With swift moves, she placed the shaft of the arrow on the arrow rest as she had done before. She reached for his right hand, guiding his fingers, attaching the back of the arrow to the bow string, silently instructing him. She placed three of his fingers on the arrow before scanning the grounds, her eyes scouring through the green of the forest for prey.
She squinted her eyes as she saw movement in a tree eight feet from where they stood. An innocent looking grey squirrel crawled from the corner of the tree, its eyes focused on the trunk of the tree that loomed above its small body.
"Now." She whispered into Peeta's ear, and he nodded, drawing the string back as she had shown him before.
The arrow flung into the air, whizzing past the trees they stood beside, flying a mere inch above the startled animals head.
Katniss' eyes widened, impressed. "That was really good! Especially good for your first time."
Peeta turned towards her, his blonde hair tousled from the slight wind in the air, the hazy light from the sun dipping low into the horizon, pale against his skin.
"Thank you," he said graciously, "but I'm sure that without me here to hover over you, you'd be going home right now with about ten dead animals instead of none."
She smiled at him. He was right, she would be going home with a lot more kills – for both her, and Gale. But that wasn't the point, not today at least.
Today, she had food at home, waiting for her. Today, she didn't hunt out of necessity, because her and Prim were close to starving. Today, for the first time in a long time, she did what she loved simply because she wanted to, not because she had to.
And she had the smiling boy in front of her to thank for that.
Katniss watched as Annie checked her phone for the seventh time in the past hour, sighing as she tucked the chunky device back into the pocket of her worn out jeans.
It was one of those days for Annie; the ones where the only thing she could think of, the only thing she wanted to talk about, was Finnick.
It's weird, Katniss thinks. When she first met Annie, first saw how deeply she loved Finnick, it baffled Katniss. She couldn't comprehend allowing your happiness, your well-being, your world to depend on one person – one person who could easily up and leave with nothing to hold them back, nothing that truly tethers them to you in a way that a sister, a brother, a father or mother would, turning your world upside down.
In fact, she thinks bitterly, even a mother could up and leave you.
She couldn't understand depending on anyone, anyone, but herself.
But the way Annie's face lit up when she received a call or a text message from Finnick, the far-away, dreamy look in her eyes as she talked about the beautiful bronze man, the complete faith she put in him to not break her, to not hurt her – it wasn't foreign or foolish or absurd to Katniss anymore. It was almost endearing. It was brave.
Though she still could not say that she fully understood it, or could do so herself.
She just knew that when she saw Annie, saw the green in her eyes brighten at just the mention of the man she loved, Katniss felt a weird sensation of hope that was completely, wholly foreign to her. Hope that maybe, maybe someday she could be as brave as Annie.
She smiled at the older girl as she wiped her last table, lifting the chairs that lined the table onto its wooden surface. She looked back towards the kitchen, catching Peeta's eye as he wiped down the counters, a rag slung across his shoulder, his apron hanging loosely from his bright blue shirt. He smiled at her, his blue eyes matching his shirt, his mouth moving along to the jazzy rhythm of the music that blared from the small radio.
She smiled back at him as she walked towards the counter he'd just cleaned, and pressed her palms against the old wood, lifting herself up onto it. Annie finished vacuuming only moments later, pulling out her phone again as she followed Katniss, a deep frown on her face as she pulled herself up onto the counter, her legs dangling in the air beneath them.
Annie pushed her phone to the side and turned towards Katniss, a smile plastered on her face.
"What are you two up to tonight?" She asked, though Katniss could tell she had no real interest in knowing.
Annie was a girl's girl – the kind who liked to talk about her boy problems while eating ice-cream straight from the tub, a chick-flick playing on TV.
She was the kind of girl Katniss didn't know how to be.
But she knew Annie was itching to talk about Finnick, and Katniss decided to indulge her.
"Not much," she said, quickly glancing at Peeta as he walked towards them, "holding in his hand a plate with a large brownie and a fork. "What about you?"
Annie smiled at Peeta gratefully as he handed her the plate, her fingers immediately clasping around the metal fork.
Katniss smiled at Peeta, too; he knew how to read people better than anyone she knew. He always knew what people needed, sometimes before even they did.
Annie forked a large chunk of the chocolate brownie into her mouth before offering it to Katniss, who took a bite of her own, the chocolate taste melting into her mouth.
Weeks later, and she still wasn't used to having whatever food she wanted available to her at any given time. After the last few years, she wasn't sure she'd ever be used to it.
"Nothing…" Annie said, the word muffled by her chewing. "I just …" she sighed, "Finnick hasn't called or texted me in two days. I'm just worried about him – he normally calls every night."
Katniss nodded, slowly chewing another bite of the brownie, not quite knowing how to comfort Annie. As always, she wasn't very good with words.
Peeta sidled to the other end of the counter, lifting himself to the counter with half as much effort as it took Annie and Katniss, passing both of the girls large, plastic glasses used for soda, instead filled halfway with milk.
He touched his hand to Annie's shoulder, rubbing his thumb over her skin as Katniss silently took a large gulp of her milk.
"He's probably just busy – being on the team and stuff's gotta be rough." Peeta soothed and Annie nodded, her back leaning into Peeta.
They both looked at ease, completely comfortable with each other – Katniss felt a twinge of something inside her, something she couldn't pinpoint. Longing, maybe?
"I know," Annie breathed, her voice still sad. "I just, I miss him … I haven't seen him in over two weeks."
Peeta nodded, though his eyes seemed conflicted – not completely himself. The blue was just a tiny bit cloudier, but he pushed it aside within a second, the easy smile she was so used to back on his face. "I know – when is he supposed to come back, next?"
Annie's shoulders slumped, and she shoved a larger piece of brownie in her mouth, "I don't even know. He hasn't told me. And I would ask, if he'd answer his phone!"
She checked her phone again, waving it in both Peeta's and Katniss' face for good measure, showing that there was still no text message or call.
Only, a moment later, Annie's eyes widened, the green in them brightening as she did so.
"Oh, my God. What's the date?"
"July 18th" Katniss said, checking her own phone to make sure.
Annie's face lit up completely, a smile spreading across her lips, threatening to swallow her face whole. The fork fell from her fingers, clanking loudly on the glass plate as she handed it to Katniss, her hands frantically reaching for her phone.
Annie scrolled down her phone, her face pinched, eyes squinted as she read something quickly.
Once she put the small device down, the smile returned on her face, somehow even larger than before.
"I've just had the most perfect idea!" she said, her velvet voice excited, jumping off from the counter, leaving just Peeta and Katniss on the wooden surface. "I'm going to go surprise Finny! He doesn't have any competitions this week so he'll be on campus, just training!"
Katniss watched silently as Peeta's mouth opened, and then closed, twice, as he tried to make sense of something – what, Katniss wasn't sure of – before he just closed his mouth, his lips a thin line.
Annie turned to Katniss, her mind completely enveloped in her excitement, not even noticing the clear confliction displayed on Peeta's face.
"Katniss, Sae will probably want to take on my shifts, but the days that she can't, can you? I should only be gone for a few days!"
Katniss nodded, looking between Annie and Peeta, confused by the look he was giving her.
Katniss thought back to the look Peeta gave Finnick when he'd surprised Annie at the diner before – the odd look of anger in his eyes had only flashed for a moment, and Katniss could have easily imagined it. But she didn't, she knew as much. Despite the fact that the look in his eyes had only lasted a moment, the frown on his face only lasting seconds, Katniss was sure it was there. And though she'd seen a similar look on Johanna's face almost every time Finnick was even mentioned, Peeta's look disconcerted her, only for the reason that he never even frowned, never disliked people.
Annie leaned towards Peeta, her green eyes wide, the small specks of gold shining brightly under the dull lighting of the diner. She smiled, widely, clutching at his calloused hand. "Can I please, please, pretty please borrow your car?"
Peeta heaved a sigh, the confliction, the cloudiness evident in his eyes once again. His frown deepened, his eyebrows knitting together, a crease in his skin forming in between them.
Annie took a step closer to him, noting his hesitation, and her smile almost faltered, almost, but she mustered enough enthusiasm, stretching her lips far across her mouth.
"Please?" She repeated, squeezing his hand.
Peeta's lips twitched, his eyes visibly relaxing as he squeezed her fingers back.
"Fine." He relented, though Katniss could tell his voice was still strained, uncomfortable. Strange.
Annie's smile bubbled over into a high-pitched squeal, followed by a giggle as Peeta reached into the pocket of his jeans, handing them to her.
She leaned forward, placing her lips to his cheek before ruffling his hair with her long, slender finger. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you."
He wrapped his arms around her, burying the unsettling look on his face into her long, dark hair. "You're welcome."
He pulled her back, keeping her at arm's length, his expression suddenly solemn.
This time, Annie was not oblivious to the unusual shift in his mood – this time, she seemed like she almost expected it.
"I… I want you – I need you to be careful, okay, Annie?"
He drew the words carefully, slowly, his voice gruff and low.
Annie nodded, her green eyes earnest as she patted his cheek fondly, as one would do to a little sibling. "Don't worry, it's not like that anymore. Everything will be okay."
He nodded, and though Katniss was beyond confused, completely out of the loop in the conversation, Katniss could tell Peeta didn't believe her.
From the look in Annie's eyes, she could tell as well.
Annie smiled once more at Peeta before releasing him, wrapping her arms around Katniss next.
Though hugs from Annie were not anything new – at least not anymore - she was still mostly uncomfortably when it came to affection of any kind, and Katniss awkwardly patted the older girls back.
"Thank you!" She breathed to Katniss, the excitement clearly edging back into her voice.
Katniss was momentarily confused by the thanks, until she remembered that she'd agreed to take on her extra shifts. She groaned inwardly; that probably meant she would have to work with Johanna alone. And although the two had reached to some sort of … truce, or agreement, she still didn't enjoy being at work with just Johanna to rely on.
Maybe she would find a way to only work when Peeta was working. He seemed to get her through the customers – the overly enthusiastic, and the incredibly rude – with his easy smiles and happy chit-chat. Not that she minded Sae much, either. The old woman was sweet, and only spoke when she absolutely had to, a trait they both shared. They both often appreciated the silence when they worked together, getting lost in the chaotic hustle and bustle that was the diner.
Katniss snapped out of her thoughts as chimes echoed in her ear, her eyes tracing the source of the noise.
Annie stood by the door, waving at them, pure joy bubbling in her eyes, her smile. She blew a kiss at them, "Love you guys!"
Peeta forced a smile, and Katniss waved back before she jumped off the counter, finding the Styrofoam box that held her dinner behind the wooden counter on a metal surface. She picked it up, and wondered if Peeta and her would go to the beach, or back to his garage as they had been for the past few days, to continue working on the portrait. Or, if he wanted any company at all.
Judging from the look on his face only a few minutes ago, Katniss assumed it would be the latter.
Katniss shifted her body towards him, wanting to say bye quickly in order to leave him alone, as she was sure some solitude was what he truly wanted. She'd never seen Peeta upset, and though she wasn't sure she knew the words of comfort to pull him out of the bad mood, she did know that when she was upset, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
But he surprised her. A smile, albeit strained and strange, spread across his lips as he grabbed the remaining Styrofoam box.
"Wanna go to the beach?" He asked, his voice tired but still light, and Katniss had to wonder how he did it, how he veiled his sour mood so well. It was something Katniss struggled with on a daily basis. He continued, "I don't really feel like painting right now…"
He let the words hang in the air, not elaborating, but Katniss could understand.
Peeta wasn't her; he didn't like to be alone. He liked to talk, he liked company.
She nodded, pulling out her phone to text Prim, letting her know she'd be home late.
As she hit the 'sent' button, her mother's name appeared in block letters on the small screen.
Katniss sighed inwardly. Her mother had called fifteen, maybe twenty times since they'd arrived, and Katniss had only spoken to her once so far. The first day they got here.
She tried, she truly did try to not be angry, or at least to suppress her anger long enough to carry a short, maybe two minute long, conversation with her mother. But she couldn't. And so, she didn't.
Instead, she ignored the calls, each one of them that came around the same time – ten to eleven PM – and let Prim do the talking for her.
She ignored the questioning look that Peeta sent her way, the same look he'd been sending her way since they'd started their nightly escapes to the beach, and now to his garage, since the first time he noticed her ignoring the calls.
But he didn't ask about them, never ventured further than his questioning looks – not even when they played 'truth' - and for that, she was grateful.
Katniss slipped her phone back into her pocket, "Let's go."
Katniss chewed on her lips as she swallowed the last of her burger, wondering if she should ask about Annie, or not.
She'd been curious since she'd seen Johanna's reaction to Finnick, slightly more confused when she saw Peeta's and only a little thrown off when she witnessed the two girls fight, his name a constant in their biting words … but now, she was completely baffled.
But conversation had been stilted so far, and Peeta seemed to be deep in thought, encased in his own mind, his own world.
Katniss nudged him lightly with her shoulder, her voice low, almost inaudible against the clash of the waves "Penny for your thoughts."
The phrase reminded her of Gale – it was his go-to when Katniss' moods went sour, when she lost herself in her own world, which was often, to be honest. She smiled at the thought of her oldest, closest friend. She missed him.
She turned towards Peeta, and abandoning their on-going game of 'truth', asked him the question she'd been holding in. She didn't want to attach their game to it, didn't want him to feel obligated to answer.
"Is everything okay? With Annie?"
He was quiet for a moment – a long moment, and Katniss silently wondered if she'd stepped over some sort of invisible boundary, if it simply wasn't her place to ask. She needed to retract. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want …"
He shook his head, his blonde hair flopping from the action. He rubbed a tired hand across his face and set the white Styrofoam box next to his foot, leaning back on his palms.
He heaved a long sigh, "It's just … Johanna and I just worry for Annie, you know?"
He paused, taking a second to organize his thoughts, drawing a breath before he continued.
"Annie just has such a good, pure heart. And she's so trusting … and, and unsuspecting. And Finnick's just … I just, I don't trust Finnick." He paused again, but this time his eyes were hard, and when he continues, his voice matched his dark blue orbs. "I mean, he's given us all plenty of reasons not to."
Katniss' mind immediately raced back to the conversation – the argument – she'd witnessed between the two girls weeks ago. She couldn't remember much of it, but she did remember Johanna throwing around accusations, something about Finnick.
Katniss' heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and she suddenly hoped, hoped with everything she had that Annie wouldn't come home from UNC broken-hearted. It was in Katniss' nature to protect people, to shelter them from pain, and this habit only strengthened when it came to people that she liked, people that she loved. And in the past month, she'd come to love Annie.
"Has Finnick ever …" She let the accusation hang, linger in the air. She wasn't sure what she wanted to tack on to the sentence. Had Finnick ever cheated on Annie? Had she so easily forgiven him?
"Once." Peeta said, nodding his head. "At least, only once that we know of."
"How…?"
"She was surprising him, just as she is now. But instead, he surprised her. She caught him with some girl from his floor – it was his freshman year."
"And … and she stayed with him?" Katniss could hear the bewilderment in her own voice, but couldn't find a way to disguise it.
She hadn't wanted to be right about this, about relationships and love and all that other crap. She had wanted to believe, to clutch with all her might at the hope that Annie and Finnick's love had provided her for that short bit of time. But she was right, and that small inkling of hope had just dissipated before her eyes.
Her own resolve strengthened, she would never fall in love. She'd never put herself through that.
Peeta nodded his head a beat later, his lips turned down from the corners. "They broke up at first, and she was a mess for days. But then he apologized … and yeah, she forgave him."
Katniss could hear the disapproval, the disbelief in Peeta's voice.
The tone of her own voice echoed his, "But why?"
He shrugged, "She says she loves him. Says that's enough."
Katniss shook her head, silently disagreeing. Love wasn't enough. Love wasn't enough to overlook a betrayal like that. Love wasn't enough to forgive like that. It simply wasn't.
Something clicked in Katniss' mind. "So that's why you were hesitant to let her take your car? And that's why Johanna hates him?"
Peeta nodded in affirmation, "We saw how badly she was hurt last time. It's kinda hard to put the image of a sobbing, broken Annie out of your mind."
Katniss simply nodded, not knowing what else to say. Not knowing if there was anything she could say. She didn't know if Annie would come back broken or not, couldn't see that far into the future. She just knew that she truly, truly hoped that she wouldn't have to see a broken, sobbing Annie. She wasn't sure she could handle as much.
Peeta seemed to have enveloped himself into the tendrils of his own thoughts, and Katniss allowed him the silence.
Only a few moments later, Peeta turned towards her, a smile on his face more normal than the one he'd plastered on before. The blue in his eyes was dark, camouflaging with the night sky but the whites stood out.
He stood up, stretching his arms over his head, suddenly infinitely more relaxed and Katniss puckered an eyebrow at him.
He nodded towards the boardwalk, back towards the general direction of the town. "Wanna work on the portrait?"
She nodded and stood as he took the empty take-out box from her hands, throwing both of their Styrofoam boxes into the trash before leading her from behind the dunes, across the sand.
"So, was that your 'truth'? Because I think that means it's my turn …" he said, smiling as they climbed the short steps from the sand to the wooden boardwalk.
She smiled back, "Sure. Your turn."
Katniss stretched as Peeta lowered his hands from the canvas, a paint brush in his hand, and lifted herself from the couch. She casually trailed towards his easel, and he smirked at her before throwing the black sheath over the easel, securing the painting from her curious eyes.
"Not yet …" he reminded her in a playful, chiding tone.
She groaned, huffing her chest out a bit.
He chuckled in response, his blue eyes swimming with amusement as she crossed her arms.
"Just a little bit longer," He said again, his voice placating her, "and a little bit more patience."
"Whatever," she mumbled, stealing a look at the clock. It was late, but she wasn't yet tired, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't either.
He chuckled again, lifting the easel off the ground and planting it to the far corner of the room, away from her. "Listen, how about I make it up with some hot chocolate?"
Katniss grunted incoherently, and his smile widened.
"With some bread, too" she mumbled a moment later, feeling a low rumbling in her stomach.
"Of course," he nodded, walking towards the small cabinet that held his utensils, his plates and mugs. He pulled two black, glass mugs from the wooden cabinet before reaching for the small pull-out drawer. A small frown appeared on his face.
"I think I ran out of hot chocolate mix…" He said, pausing for a moment. "You sit tight here for a moment, I'll go get some from upstairs."
Katniss shook her head, she didn't want to have him go out of his way to find the hot chocolate. She could do without. She'd just go to bed instead.
"You don't have to, it's okay…" she started, but he cut her off.
"I'm not taking no for an answer." He said, tossing her the remote to the small television set he owned. "Just hang here, and I'll be back in a minute."
He tossed a smile at her, rushing out of the room before she could tell him no.
Resigned, she slumped back into the couch, flipping the television on. She flipped through the channels aimlessly as she scanned the room for the thousandth time. Despite the fact that she'd been in this exact room more than a few times since she accidentally fell asleep here, she still felt her cheeks warm and her fingers tingle when she was here. It was probably from the embarrassment, she thought.
Her eyes swept the room; each time she did, she felt there were new colors in the room, new paintings. His room, so much like him, was never dull, never quiet. It was loud, it was vivacious. It was the opposite of hers – two bare walls, because Prim could only decorate her side of the room, and two beds, and not much of anything else.
She stood a moment later, wanting to admire the paintings up close. Not for the first time, she was drawn to the corner of the room where black sheaths were haphazardly thrown over a few paintings, maybe some easels. The black cloths formed a lumpy formation, small mountains of something.
She'd never asked him about them, and he'd never offered any sort of explanation, though she knew he'd noticed her eyes lingering in that general direction more than a few times.
She leaned towards them, her fingers skimming the cotton black sheets. As if on their own accord, her fingers began to pry at the sheaths, though she couldn't quite remember making the decision to do so.
She lifted the black sheaths from the canvasses, a weird, apprehensive feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. She should just let the cloth fall back into place, she shouldn't pry into Peeta's business, his paintings like this. She didn't know what she would do, or say if he caught her here, in this position.
But she couldn't help it. She was curious by nature, always had been. She always preferred to be in the know than to be left wondering.
Without giving it another thought, she pulled at the black sheath, and blinked.
There were a dozen or so paintings, some small, some big featuring the same thing, the same person.
It was a girl. A girl with a long, beautifully twisted braid that fell down across her front, just skimming her rib cage. She wore a smile – not a big, glorious smile, the kind that she'd become used to seeing on Prim, and Annie and Peeta. Not, it was a small smile. A smile that almost didn't exist, almost was close to just a small grimace. But it was a smile, Katniss could tell from the smallest of lift from the corner of her lips. Her eyes sparkled a shimmery gray, like small shards of glass, and there was a small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, where the two lines knit together. A few tendrils of hair escaped her braid, forming almost a halo around her face.
The paintings weren't all the same – though those details were featured in almost every painting, the differences among the paintings varies. Some had different settings, different lighting, others were painted using different colors; black and white, blue and green.
Katniss' eyes squinted as she saw a small square of paper, held to a wooden easel with a large, rotund white clip. She tugged at it, a quiver in her hands she hadn't realized was there.
With agonizingly slow movements, she brought the white paper to her face, and with hesitant fingers, twisted it in her hands.
It was a picture of her.
The braid, the smile, the eyes, the wrinkle – it was her.
It was an older picture, taken sometime before her father died; she could tell in the way her lips tugged upwards, even if it was just a tiny, small bit. The photo wasn't a new one, the edges of the old paper were bent and a small tear on the right corner appeared.
The picture of was of her. The paintings were of her.
Katniss blinked hard, trying to make sense of this, trying desperately hard to understand why a boy she'd met only a month ago would have pictures of her, would spend hours painting her.
How had he done all this?
She blinked again, finding some sense of comfort in the depth of the darkness in her eyelids, away from the images of herself.
What did this mean?
She pictures Peeta in her mind – his tousled, unruly blonde hair, his sparkling blue eyes. His smile, his sweet, kind smile that almost never wavered. Only now, she could also picture the deception.
And then the unwelcome image of the paintings came to her mind.
Had he been stalking her?
It made sense – she barely knew anything about him, he seldom talked about himself, his family. And he'd found a way to wiggle into her life, into her uncle's life.
With a shocking startle, she realized that she'd let her poor, unassuming sister near him. Near her stalker. Without knowing it, she'd put her sister in the most dangerous situation possible.
She clutched the picture of herself a little tighter, sneering at the paintings with disgust and began to turn away, wanting to get out of here, needing to escape.
She paused when she heard a sharp gasp.
She turned around, accusations evident in her eyes to find Peeta standing not five feet from her, two mugs and a plate of bread settled on the tray in his hands.
He hurriedly dropped the tray onto the table in front of the couch, the dark brown liquid jumping from the mugs and spilling onto the orange tray in his haste.
He turned towards her, his eyes wide, earnest. "I – I can explain…"
He stuttered, his cheeks glowing a bright red, the blue in his eyes bright. "I can, trust me."
She wanted to scoff at his use of the word 'trust.' Right, she could trust her stalker. The man who kept pictures of her and painted her in secrecy. The thought of it all made her sick.
She looked at him, her eyes distrusting, afraid almost. She lifted the picture of herself from her chest, thrusting it in his face as he neared her.
"Why do you have this?" She asked, her voice low, deadly.
He ran a hand over his face tiredly, his expression bleak.
"I can explain, I really can …" he repeated, his eyes shifting between the paintings and her. "Do you wanna take a seat?"
Her eyes drifted towards the couch, and the image of her and him, sleeping, his arm around her, edged its way back into her mind. Instead of the odd tingles she felt before, this time she simply shuddered.
She shook her head fervently, "No."
He nodded, and she knew he wouldn't press her. He knew he couldn't change her mind. He had to know it would go the same for this. She wouldn't understand, no matter how well or how he explained. He was a sick-minded bastard, and it made her feel ill.
He lifted his fingers, dropping them to his neck. He was nervous, she knew.
He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it a moment later, not a sound croaking from his lips. His lips drew into a small line.
"Explain." Katniss snapped, her patience running thin.
"He nodded wearily, rubbing the pads of his finger up and down over the skin of his neck, and clutching the back of the couch with his other hand, his skin stretching over his knuckles, turning the skin into a pasty white color."
"I just … I don't know how to start. I know – I understand what you might thinking and it's just … It just—"
"Are you stalking me?" She asked, interrupting him. She hadn't meant to ask so blatantly, but now that it was out there, she didn't care if she offended him. Why would she?
His eyebrows knit together, and his lips twitched, suppressing a smile.
"No. No, I'm not stalking you – although I understand why you would think so … I just … are you sure you don't wanna sit?"
She shook her head, unrelenting.
He nodded again, "When – when I was younger, my mom, my mom's means of punishment were a little bit tougher than what most kids are used to."
He gulped, and she watched, her lips puckered together closely, as his apple's adam rose up and down.
"Sorry," he croaked a moment later, his voice softer, hushed. "I've never really told anyone about this. No one who didn't already know, at least."
She wanted to tell him he didn't have to tell her all of this, he just needed to leave her and her family the hell alone. But she couldn't find the words or her voice.
"She always slapped us around when we acted up or whatever, but it wasn't too bad, because my dad was always there to stop her, to protect us. But when he died, she had nothing left to stop her, there was no one left to protect us – my brothers and I. She just … she got a little carried away, I guess the grief from my dad dying must have had its own role in all…"
Katniss shuddered. Her mother had been an awful mother, she was aware of that. She'd been aware of that for a long time. But she'd never once raised her hand to either one of her daughters. Never once yelled too loudly at them. Katniss couldn't imagine feeling unsafe in your own home.
But that didn't explain why Peeta had pictures of her, why he had painted portrait after portrait of her face.
"But when it got too bad, when … when," he sighed, "when I couldn't take it anymore, I moved out."
"What about your brothers?" Katniss asked, her voice matching his. She hadn't meant to ask, was supposed to be silent. But the words tumbled out anyway.
Peeta shrugged, a helplessness in the gesture, "They moved out a year after my dad died. They were both old enough to. I haven't really heard from them."
Katniss' eyes widened; she was infuriated with his brothers. She couldn't imagine leaving Prim to a mother like that – she'd stay if she had to, but she wouldn't leave her baby sister's side. "They didn't take you?"
He shook his head, "Nah, they said I was too young. I don't blame them, I guess. They shouldn't have had to deal with that if they didn't have to."
Katniss' opened her voice, to argue that he should blame them, but he spoke before she could.
"Haymitch eventually found me though, and in his drunken stupor, he took me in." He paused, his fingers rubbing his neck ferociously. "He – he knew my dad, they were friends for a long time. And he knew my mom, what she was … what she was capable of.
"But when I moved here," he continued, "I realized that maybe Haymitch needed me more than I did him. This place," he said, gesturing towards the room, the house. "It was all a mess. Everything was in boxes. It looked like he's just moved in, though he'd been living her for a while. And while I was unpacking…"
He paused, his voice somehow lower than before. He lifted a finger towards the photo she held, "I found that."
She stared at him, still uncomprehending. The ordinary thing would have been to toss the photo back, not give it a second glance. Why did he keep it? Why did he paint her picture over and over again?
She asked him, and his eyes cast downwards, his frown deepening. His eyebrows knit closely together, and a jagged crease formed between them. He aimlessly drew a circular pattern on sofa behind him, leaning into it.
He heaved a sigh, loudly. "I know this is going to sound weird. And I'll understand if you don't want to speak to me again, I will."
Her breath hitched in her throat. Was that what she wanted? She didn't know. She didn't know.
"But … I just, I dreamt of you. That first night, when I found it. And then I dreamt of you the next night, and the next. And-" He paused, lifting her eyes to her, seemingly gauging her reaction. She forced all emotion from her face, maintaining a vacant look on her face, in her eyes. "And before that, before I found that picture, I almost couldn't sleep, not for long at least. I would have these crazy, violent nightmares. But then, somehow, your face starting appearing, and even though the nightmares persisted, kept plaguing my nights, somehow … somehow your face made it better."
He kept his eyes on her as she took the information in. She could understand about the nightmares; she was all too familiar with the nightly terrors herself. But he dreamt about her?
It was all too weird for her to comprehend.
"So, when I woke up, I would just – I guess, I would just paint, or draw what I saw. It somehow … it made me feel less afraid. Less alone."
It didn't make sense. It truly didn't. Katniss couldn't manage to make herself feel less alone, how could she make him feel less alone – when she didn't even know him.
Fleetingly, she wondered if he realized just how insane he sounded.
"I …" Katniss started, her voice breaking. She didn't know how she felt, didn't know what she thought. She could relate to him, could connect with what he felt. But at the same time, she completely couldn't.
She took a breath, holding her photo to her side, "I think I need to go."
Peeta nodded, his eyes a cloudy blue, the hurt in them palpable. But she didn't know what else to do, couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I understand."
She nodded, stepping away from him and rushed towards the door. She closed it quickly behind her.
She could feel her heart racing, beating wildly in her chest as she raced around the corner of the house, the grass wet from dew under her feet.
It wasn't until she was in her bed, Prim's body pressed against hers that she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.
What was she going to do?
a/n: so, just a heads up - there are only three more chapters left in this story, and maybe an epilogue after that! so we're nearing the end, but that is exactly why so much was revealed in this chapter! the next few are also gonna be a bit packed with information as well!
also - notice that there are significantly fewer typos in this chapter? well, that's because i finally have a beta reader! welcome zenleigh, everyone! she is so very awesome! and thanks to all of you who offered to beta, as well!
as always, reviews are so very appreciated, as are all alerts and favorites! thank you all so much for the support!