It takes three nights by myself before I cave and make my way to Peeta's compartment. My mind is fuzzy and drifting because I haven't truly slept in days. Not to mention Haymitch's confession has me worrying about President Coin's intentions. Even if he did say that he expects us to make it back from the mission to District 4 safely, Haymitch has planted a seed of doubt in my head that I can't shake.
"I don't know about the rest."
I want to tell Peeta about this. I want to see him, no matter how mad I still might be. I need to see him because I'm still so worried about him.
Maybe it's a result of the Games, then watching him in the Quell, and then thinking he was dead. I need to see him—to make sure he's OK. His apology the other night only adds to this frustrating need, making me feel absolutely feeble. What's even more infuriating is that I think I might actually be ready to forgive him.
I want to. Because the thought of going on this mission in two days with him thinking I hate him makes me want to vomit. But as everyone knows at this point, I can be particularly stubborn if I have a mind to be.
The closer I get to his compartment, the more desperate I start to feel, so I when I reach his door, I throw it open rather aggressively.
Peeta is sitting on the sofa, a sketchpad strewn across his lap. When he hears me his head shoots up and I watch his expression change from 'startled' to 'relieved'. His eyes lock on mine and he does nothing to attempt to hide the look of longing clouding his features. Seeing him in person makes my chest ache.
"I can't sleep," I breathe, disgusted with myself that it comes out as more of a whine than anything else. Peeta pauses only momentarily before getting up off the small sofa, his prosthetic buckling slightly from the change in position.
My chest clenches even tighter.
He disappears into the bedroom where I can hear Rye snoring soundly. For a second I think Peeta will leave me here to simmer in my own self-pity but he comes back shortly, clutching a pillow and blanket in one hand.
Peeta sits down on the sofa and places the thin pillow against the armrest. I watch silently as he unfastens his prosthetic and then sprawls out on the couch. He's far too large to sleep there comfortably but I know in this moment he is giving Rye a well deserved night's rest without the drama that seems to follow the two of us wherever we go. Peeta gestures for me to join him, which I do immediately.
I kick off my shoes without looking at him. Peeta places his hand on my arm and I can't help but glance up and meet his eyes. He doesn't speak but the heartbreaking look he gives me says enough. He reclines slowly, bringing me down to rest on his chest. When I'm settled, he throws the blanket over the two of us and then hugs me so tightly to his body I think he might be trying to absorb me completely.
I can't even pretend that I don't like it; I'm too content and comforted by the feeling of his steady, thumping heartbeat under my ear. Peeta presses his fingers into the small of my back and breathes deeply, the action moving the baby hairs on my forehead and lifting my head with the movement of his chest. I run my arms slowly up his, tracing the muscles of his biceps.
He sighs deeply as I stare across the room at the closed door, my fingers already having moved underneath the sleeves of Peeta's t-shirt. I'm probably squishing him, but I let myself sink into him further and finally allow myself to enjoy his body heat as it seeps into my skin.
We lie together for a while and I inhale the faint sugary smell that seems to cling to him wherever he goes. I'm so relieved I think I might cry.
"I'm still mad at you," I whisper, though my voice lacks the conviction I intended. Peeta runs his fingers over my braid, stopping to trace the shell of my ear.
"Okay," he whispers back.
The day before we are set to leave on the mission to District 4, I find Prim sitting on her bed, folding clothes. I had snuck out of Peeta's compartment early this morning, unwilling to face his sleepy-eyed morning face because my after spending last night in his arms I know that if he apologized again I would have forgiven him on the spot. Actually, I'm pretty sure all he would have had to do for me to forgive him was to just look at me.
It's kind of pathetic, actually: Katniss Everdeen—unfeeling District 12 hunter and Victor of the 74th Hunger Games—turned to putty in the hands of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed baker boy.
I left because I'm a coward.
"Prim?" I ask, when she hears me enter the room. Prim smiles and pats the spot next to her on the bed. It still surprises how easily she has adapted to life in District 13. While most people mill about, worn down and depressed, Prim has made it her personal goal to bring a smile to everyone's face at least once.
When I join her on the bed, she tugs on my braid, much like the way I used to do to her when she was little. Out of habit, I force a smile at her and poke her nose. I'm not the same sister she had last year. I'm not even the same sister she had a few months ago.
Everything has changed.
Prim puts down the folded laundry and shifts so she is facing me. I don't think she sees the point in avoiding the issue at hand, which is a shame because that's what I do best.
"What's wrong, Katniss?" she asks. Prim tilts her head to the side and gives me a small, encouraging smile. You'd think she was the older one. I swallow roughly and push a stray piece of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling shy.
"When I'm gone," I whisper, taking her hands in mine. "You need to look after Peeta. Can you do that?"
It's become obvious that he will not be fine when I leave. I'm particularly worried he will have another episode and if they're anything like the one I saw in the conference room, the idea of him relapsing is enough to distract me during the mission, which is dangerous for everyone involved. Prim squeezes my hands.
"Of course," she answers and when I don't respond immediately she adds, "It'll be OK Katniss."
I take a deep, shuttering breath, remembering how Peeta weaved his fingers through my hair last night until he was sure I had fallen asleep.
"He's just…he's too good. He's so worried and I don't want him to have another episode. And I'm so mad at him right now but…" I say, trailing off when I can't find a logical way to finish my thought. Prim taps my shoulder and I look over to her.
"I don't think you should be mad," she says with a small, sad smile. I never told her about our fight but I'd be willing to bet money that Johanna did. Not to mention that gossip travels fast in this district. "He lost his family and he loves you more than anything. He's just worried that something will happen to you, too…because everything he loves gets taken away from him."
Prim must see how much her statement upsets me so she leans up on her knees and pulls me into a hug. I take a few calming breathes as an incredible feeling of guilt washes over me. Guilt and frustration that I've been unable to see things from his point of view. There is always a reason for Peeta's actions.
Always.
"But we're with the good guys," I whisper over her shoulder, fighting off the feeling of burning tears behind my eyes.
"Doesn't change anything," Prim replies, patting my back. "He can still worry. That's what Peeta does when it comes to you," she laughs. "And he probably feels even worse because of Finnick. Peeta probably thinks that Finnick blames himself for everything when it has nothing to do with him. Not really."
I pull back from Prim and rub my temple. Finnick tried explaining this to me a few days ago but because I'm me, I refused to listen. The thing is, this whole thing should be about Finnick. It should be about our desire to save Annie and bring her back to him.
I'm so selfish.
Sitting here with Prim, it's all suddenly very clear to me. My stupidity for staying angry with Peeta makes me want to find him immediately. Or maybe it's just a lot simpler when I've decided that I want to forgive Peeta. That I need to. I already sort of have.
"You're too smart for your own good, Prim," I respond, wishing she didn't have to be exposed to all of this drama at such a young age. It's something I tried to protect her from and failed.
Prim giggles and twists her loose, blonde hair between her hands, blushing. I quack at her, which is probably ridiculous considering she's too old for such games now. Maybe that's why she laughs at me. I move to kneel behind her, taking her hair and twisting it into a long, single braid that runs down her back like a thick rope. I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of this: Prim and I discussing boys and on her bed while I braid her hair. It almost seems normal.
"I'll be so worried about him," I say when I'm finished, laying her braid over her shoulder. "But I can't tell him that because if he knows I'm worrying, then he'll worry and he'll get worked up and—"
"I know Katniss," Prim interrupts me, turning to look at me over her shoulder. When she notices how upset I truly am I see her features soften. Prim takes my hand and pats it.
"I'll look after him when you're gone. I'll make him draw me a million pictures of Buttercup and Lady," she giggles.
I can only hug her fiercely.
"You know I'm coming back, right?" I whisper into her hair. Prim stiffens but then composes herself. You'd almost think nothing was wrong.
"If you say you'll come back, I believe you," she answers. "It happened once before didn't it?"
I continue with training in a daze. I'm focused but at the same time I am distracted. The mission deadline is fast approaching and it's beginning to hit me what exactly is about to happen. We are set to leave tomorrow night and I think the severity of the matter finally hit me today as I watched Boggs show me the suicide pill I'm supposed to swallow if caught by the Capitol.
It's called nightlock. How ironic that the one thing that saved my life might be the one thing that ends it.
My mind is in a million different places, so when I arrive in my compartment after dinner it takes me a solid minute to realize that Peeta is standing in front of me and has apparently been waiting here for a while.
"I can't have you hate me before you leave," he croaks. I zone in on him, trying to get my mind to cooperate with me for just a second. Like me, he looks tired and worried. The only thing that's gotten me through the day was my plan to crawl back into his arms tonight and fall asleep on his sofa again.
After the nightlock explanation, all I wanted to do was run to Peeta.
"I don't hate you," I sigh, taking a step forward and running a fist over my eyes.
"You're angry," he argues back, brows pinched together.
"Of course I was angry. You were making stupid, hurtful remarks," I tell him and Peeta looks to the ground, ashamed. "And you didn't tell me the truth about your episodes. We promised we wouldn't do that," I add. "Remember?"
"I know," he whispers, daring to take a step closer. "I'm sorry."
"I know," I tell him. I know that he is very sorry for what he said. Hell, I knew the moment the words left his mouth that he regretted them. Peeta's eyes look so large they might swallow me whole. As if he's unable to stand being apart any longer, he quickly snatches my hand from where it hangs limply by my side.
"I understand why you volunteered," he explains. "But if something happens, Katniss I'll…I'll…"
"This isn't like the Games, Peeta," I interject, squeezing his fingers. "These are the good guys. They don't want us dead. I'm one of the Mockingjays, aren't I? They're protecting me," I soothe, taking his one hand in both of mine. I say the words for both of our benefit. I don't tell him that I'm scared.
"And Gale will be there," I add, glancing up at him.
Peeta's brow furrows when I say Gale's name. I haven't uttered it since arriving from District 12. Another reason I'm a horrible person. Sometimes I wonder why Peeta even bother's sticking with me. I couldn't fathom why Gale stuck around for so long as I was nothing but terrible to him.
"So you made up with him, then?" he asks. Maybe he thinks it ironic how Gale and I mended things while Peeta and I were fighting. Maybe he thinks it's ironic because Peeta is the one who kept pushing me to make things right.
"I think so," I respond lamely, even though I'm not so sure things will ever be right again. Peeta sighs and tugs me close.
"Well you were really mad at him and it took months for you two to make up. I guess it's not very promising for me, then," he says heavily, chancing a quick glance at my face. I try to hide the twitching in my cheeks but fail.
"I don't know," I consider. "You're pretty charming so it's a lot more difficult to stay mad at you. Plus I don't really know what to do with you when you grovel like this."
Peeta laughs quietly and I listen to the sound as it fades slowly. He swallows and then wraps me in a tight embrace. A small squeak escapes me as I collide with his chest but I return the gesture, relieved that I don't have to avoid him any longer. He always makes things so easy.
Peeta places a series of chaste kisses on my temple and cheek before nestling his face into my neck.
"Why did volunteer if you knew about your episodes?" I ask quietly. "Peeta. If you went and had an episode..."
Peeta stiffens after I speak. Does he know how dangerous it could have been if Coin allowed him to go on the mission? Not only for himself but for every person involved. Peeta would have been a sitting duck. I hug him tighter, until I feel him relax into my arms again.
"I wasn't thinking," he responds in self-hatred. "That was really stupid of me." His chest hitches and he kisses the side of my neck. "I can't control anything," he whispers into the skin. "I…I just…all I want to do is keep you safe. And it's so much harder now than it was before because I'm so messed up. I just want to keep you safe. It's all I've ever wanted to do," he pleads, a strangled sound. I run my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck before pulling away.
"We protect each other. It's what we do," I smile.
He doesn't return it.
"You need to have faith in me," I continue, tapping his cheek. "You need to have faith that everything will be alright. That I'll come back—with Annie—and we will get through this together, that—"
My voice cuts off and I swallow the painful lump that's formed rapidly in my throat. Closing my eyes, I try to ignore the fact that this moment right now reminds me so much of the time before Peeta went into the Quell. Of how desperate I felt and how hopeless it all seemed. Is that how he feels right now? Is that what his venom-riddled mind is telling him? Is that what this world has taught us?
Although to be fair, if Peeta were going on this mission I would be an absolute basket case. I wouldn't put it past me to plead for him to stay and I know that there's no way he would deny me because now we have the choice.
"Peeta, if you really want me to stay here…if you beg me to stay…I couldn't leave you," I whisper, resting my forehead against his. Peeta doesn't say anything and for a while the only sound in the room is that of our quiet breathing. I shift on my feet, leaning more heavily against him.
"No," he finally says. "I couldn't do that."
Peeta tilts his head and gives me a soft, tender kiss. It warms me, chasing away the fear that's been nipping at my heels ever since Boggs showed me the nightlock.
"And I have faith in you. Always," he murmurs.
Peeta smiles down at me, a stray piece of hair falling into his eyes. I grab him behind the neck and pull his mouth down to mine, kissing him firmly. Peeta chases my lips blindly after I pull away, frowning when I put a finger over them before he can kiss me again.
"I love you, you know," I smile.
Peeta grins and my finger falls from his lips and onto his teeth. He reaches up and places a hand on my cheek. For a moment it looks like he wants to say something more—his smile wavers and his eyes cloud over—but he replaces that look with funny smirk.
"And I guess I love you, too. At least a little bit," he shrugs. Before I can come up with an equally snarky remark, Peeta molds his lips to mine and my response disappears on my tongue.
The Mockingjay suit they designed for me is too tight. It's suffocating, but that might be because of the bulletproof vest that is built inside. The suit reminds me of Cinna and I wonder, for the hundredth time, where he might be.
If he's alive or if they've killed him like they killed Portia. I wonder about Effie, too.
But I can't think about them now because I'm leaving tonight. I scan the large hallway our team is standing in. I see Gale off in the corner, speaking quietly to his family. He bends down and gives Posy a kiss on the cheek.
Prim said she would be coming with Peeta shortly. I haven't seen him since this morning because of my demanding pre-launch schedule. Things have become particularly tense and foreboding over the past day. Everyone in 13 seems to be anticipating this recovery mission and I wonder if this is what it was like before I was rescued from 12.
I'm anxious and I want to see Peeta because the fear that, for some reason, I might not see him before I go presses on my chest like an anvil.
The longer I wait the more uneasy I become and it isn't until I see a flash of bronze move around the corner that I stop worrying for a moment.
Finnick looks awful.
Seeing him is the exact push I need, though. I'm reminded of Annie and just how important it is for me to succeed because if I don't, and I come back empty-handed, I definitely won't be the same and Finnick will disintegrate.
I refuse to let that happen.
"Finnick," I say, touching his shoulder gently when he's near enough. Apparently he didn't notice me because he starts at the contact and turns around; his face is painted in a combination of terror and worry. At the sight of me, his lips twist up into what is supposed to be a smile.
"I will bring Annie back to you," I tell him quietly. Finnick's face goes blank for a second, as if at the mere mention of her name he needs to protect himself from the possibility of heartache. "When I come back, she will be with me," I vow, taking care to enunciate each word. "I promise."
There's nothing more for me to say to him. And I realize that if I were to have spoken to him before this moment, in this way, I would have said the exact same thing. I will bring her back to him the same way he brought me back to Peeta. I promise to do it, because the only reason I will fail will be if I die, in which case I don't come back at all.
Finnick stands on shaky legs before pulling me into a tight hug. He doesn't have to say anything because I can feel—in his embrace—what he wants me to know.
It's please. It's I owe you. It's I'm sorry. It's thank you. It's good luck.
He pulls away and shoots me a quick grin that fades too quickly.
"I don't know what Delly is going to do when Annie comes back, though. I think she has a little bit of a massive crush on you," I say, attempting to lighten the mood. Finnick chuckles lightly before looking over my shoulder and frowning. Glancing behind me, I see Peeta walking around the corner as Rye grips his shoulder tightly. I look back to Finnick but it's clear that whatever improvements I made in his mood have been dashed by Peeta's obviously distressed state.
I exhale loudly, pat Finnick's cheek, and then turn around to face Peeta. When he's only a few feet from me, Rye lets go of his brother's shoulder, giving it a light shake before walking away. Peeta doesn't even acknowledge him and his eyes don't leave mine.
"Rye was nervous I would have another episode at seeing you leave," he says weakly.
I close the distance between us in two steps, moving my hands up to cup his cheeks. Haymitch proved himself again by 'accidentally' giving the filming crew the wrong launch dock. He'll be chewed out for it later, no doubt, but in the time it takes for them to find the correct location, Peeta and I can have a private moment. I shuffle us into the corner so we're partially obscured from view. We're still a bit of freak show and even though the people in this area are supposed to be professionals, uncaring about our personal lives, they can't help but stare sometimes.
"Will you?" I ask hesitantly, knowing that if he does, indeed, have an episode, I won't be in the right mental state to complete this mission. Peeta gives me a small smile and shakes his head.
"No," he replies, curling a hand around the back of my neck and resting his forehead against mine. "We wasted so much time being angry with one another," he whispers. I close my eyes and nudge my nose against his.
"Don't be melodramatic."
Peeta's fingers twitch at the base of my neck and when he doesn't respond I open my eyes to look up at him. It's very obvious that he's trying to hold himself together so I run the tips of my fingers underneath his eyes in an effort to calm him somewhat. Peeta looks up to the ceiling and blinks rapidly.
"Hey," I soothe, leaning into him. "Remember what I said? They're sending all their best soldiers with us. I have two personal soldiers flanking me at all times," I remind him, pointing to Boggs, who stands at attention by the door to the launch pad. "It's a simple rescue and we're not supposed to be gone for more than a day. This is for Finnick."
Peeta nods curtly, struggling to stay something, and his Adam's apple bobs precariously in his neck. Quietly, I pull him to me, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing light kisses onto the skin of his throat. Last night, Peeta didn't sleep. We lay together on his bed, exchanging nothing more than the occasional simple kiss. I think he was far too upset to attempt any other physical activity but I was just happy that we had reconciled. And to be honest, I fell asleep rapidly, exhausted by my time in training during the past few days and by the stress of the mission at hand. Surprisingly, there were no nightmares.
I can feel Peeta's throat tighten under my lips so I pull away, lean up and place my mouth on his.
"I need to ask you a favor," I whisper against his mouth while my fingers tangle in his hair. Peeta's arms are locked around my waist and I have to stretch to make eye contact with him when I pull away. "They're very strict about the dress code for this mission," I explain, pointing my eyes to the ridiculous black jumpsuit I'm wearing. I disentangle myself from his arms and reach down to pull something out of my boot. "They won't let me keep this with me," I say, showing Peeta the blue sea glass he gave me all those months ago on the beach. His eyes widen a bit as he looks down at the object. "And I haven't let go of it since…" I trail off, unable to even mention the Quell. Because this is not the same and this is not goodbye.
"Will you keep it safe for me?" I ask, holding the glass out to him in the palm of my hand. I nearly had a fit when Boggs told me I wasn't allowed to carry anything with me because I've had this piece of glass with me at all times for the better half of a year. Peeta locks eyes with me before tracing the edge of the glass with his finger. I take his hand, flip it over, and place the glass inside.
"I want it back when I return, though," I tell him, almost scolding. This makes Peeta smile for the first time since before we went to bed last night.
"I won't let go of it," he responds, wrapping his fingers around the object tightly. Peeta's eyes flick up to mine and we hold each other's gaze for a long moment before he swoops down and gives me a long, heated kiss. I'm so thrown off by it that I stumble a bit and have to grip on to the front of his shirt to keep from falling over. He places his hands on my cheeks and kisses me deeper, breathing raggedly through his nose. It makes me dizzy and the way he whimpers when he pulls away makes my stomach turn into knots. I can taste his desperation.
"I wish I'd have given you a proper sendoff," he says breathlessly. I catch my own and notice that the twinkle in his eye is dimmer than usual.
"Me too," I tell him. "But when I get back, we'll lock Rye out of your room and you'll make it up to me."
I blush at my own words, not used to talking like this. Peeta's eyes darken considerably, though, and I smile at the way he licks his lips. Feeling daring, I leaning up onto my toes, press my check against his and whisper into his ear.
"And then you'll make it up to me again," I whisper, taking note of how he bends lower, curling his body over mine. "And again after that."
Peeta shivers and he grips my hips tightly, pulling my them to his. This is definitely not the time or place but I can't bring myself to care.
"Is that a promise?" he whispers back, the dark edge to his voice making me tremble. I wanted to be with him last night so badly but we both seemed to know that sex between the two of us would equate to a 'goodbye' of some sort and like I've said a million times before, this is not goodbye.
Absolutely not.
"Yes," I affirm, pulling back and pecking him once on the lips. When I pull away, I can't help but grin at the hazy look in his eyes and his dilated pupils, happy with myself for successfully distracting him from the upsetting part of this moment.
"That's cruel of you. To leave me with that image," he whines.
"Well I have to give you something to look forward to, don't I?" I ask, raising my eyebrows and nudging him with my elbow. Peeta's smile slowly fades again and I know that what I've been putting off has finally arrived. Especially since the camera crew has just tumbled into view, complaining loudly about 'misdirections'.
Peeta loosens his grip on my waist and moves his hand to smooth over my braid.
"I'll miss you," he whispers painfully. It's clear he would have liked to choose a different set of words. But we both know better.
"We're not doing this," I chide. I told him last night this is exactly what we weren't going to do. None of this stuff—the stuff that alludes to the fact that we might not be seeing each other again.
Because we will.
"I'll see you very soon, Peeta." When his frown doesn't dissipate, I add, "And I'll miss you too, obviously."
Boggs taps my shoulder and informs me that we are set to launch in five minutes.
In other words: wrap it up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Prim move into view. I said my peace to her, and my mother, yesterday and she understood the way only Prim can. I told her I'd come back.
I mean it.
I did it once before.
Peeta lets go of me and backs away only to surge forward again and kiss me quickly on the mouth.
He knows not to say it. We won't say the words because it would be too much like the Quell. Too much like the Games. We're with the good side now and there's no need to worry. Nonetheless, before Peeta pulls away, I plant my lips firmly on his and silently scream what I've been thinking this whole time.
I love you. Always.
I pull away in a huff and Peeta straightens, swallowing thickly. I can't be around him anymore or else I'll never leave. Boggs tugs on my shoulder and I give Peeta one last smile before turning to Prim.
"Go find Finnick and tell him to stop pulling his hair out," I say. "This Annie girl might not like him so much when he's bald and I don't feel like wasting my time."
Peeta smiles tightly and I can tell it's taking every ounce of strength he has to keep himself composed right now. He's strung as tight as a wire and I doubt anyone else notices how hard his jaw is clenched or the way his arms are shaking just slightly.
Prim takes him by the hand and pulls him towards the hallway. Just like I told her to.
"Hey!"
I turn quickly to the left at Gale's voice. It reverberates off the walls of the hall, disrupting the otherwise quiet place. Gale looks like he might be sick and I watch in confusion as he stalks forward. My eyes travel to his intended target.
Madge stands in the corner, her blonde hair pulled into a loose, messy bun at the base of her head. She looks to be frowning.
When Gale is not two feet from her, her mouth falls open in confusion. Gale yanks her forward by the arm, captures her face between his hands and kisses her. Madge stumbles a bit but finds purchase on Gale's shoulders. The moment is over quickly but I've seen it and I can't look away from the two of them. I try to find a distinct moment in the past months, while in District 13, when the two of them got together but I can't.
I've been focused on myself.
Gale whispers something to her before turning around and walking straight out the doors and onto the launch pad. I'm too shocked to blush at noticing something so private. The last thing I see before Boggs nudges me forward, forcing my eyes away, is Madge smiling into her hand, blushing crimson. She looks like she might cry.
I'm ripped from the surprising images of Gale and Madge when I hear the District 13 soldiers start to shout commands into their ear pieces. They start checking their guns, and I allow myself a moment of panic. Because the guns and soldiers and camera crew have suddenly invaded my senses and I what I've forced myself not to think about this entire time is literally shoving itself in my face. Gale and Madge disappear. Finnick goes and so does Prim. Peeta fades away.
I'm going to war, aren't I?
In a terrified daze, I follow Boggs to the door of the launch pad, turning around at the last minute—out of instinct more than anything else.
Peeta leans against the wall. When he sees me turn around, he tries to smile—really, he tries—but it's a forced thing. Slowly, he lifts his hand, holding out the sea glass between his fingers.
He'll always get the last word, won't he?
I love you, too.
Always.
I give him a jerky nod and force my feet in the opposite direction, following Boggs onto the launch pad and into a hovercraft. I'm handed a bow and a quiver of arrows—designed especially for me—and the doors to the hovercraft shut with a loud, final clank.
Someone behind me starts to count down, and I wish I had my sea glass with me.
I remind myself that I won't be killing children and that the terms 'Tributes', 'Victors' and 'Games' don't apply this time around.
This time is different.
A/N: Excuse any typos—I'm very sleepy.
I'm sad to say that there are only either 3 or 4 more chapters (plus an epilogue) left in this story. I can't believe the response it's gotten so far, so thank you for all the follows, favorites and especially the reviews, which make me the happiest person in the world and force me to smile like an idiot when I read them. If you're sad this story is coming to a close, so am I! Maybe that's why I've dragged it out for so long :)
I have (good...?) news, though! With some serious help from my friend girlwiththebangs (hey gurl!), I've been thinking up a new modern day AU story that has me CRAZY excited. As sad as I am to see this story go, I'll be honest—I'm pumped to start a story where the main characters don't have the ever-present fear of death hanging over their heads...
The prologue for that story will probably be posted simultaneously with the epilogue for this one and I will let you know what to look for when that happens, if you are interested!
I'll try my best to update quickly but if I don't, please me merciful! Remember—the real world sucks!
Reviews are the BEST!