"You're not doing as badly as you think you are," Katniss said, her voice entirely too patient. I leaned forward against the table, rubbing my hands over my face and combing my fingers back into my hair. We sat on the floor in my living room on opposite sides of the coffee table. Our English textbooks were open on the table between us, with Katniss' notes from class covering the rest of the table.
"I'm n-never going to g-get this," I stared down at the page in front of me, the notebook beside it. We were meant to be writing a two page paper on the historical context of some essay on the state of the government before President Snow came to power. Even though Miss Krugel had pulled me aside to let me know I only needed to turn in one page since writing was so difficult for me, I was having a hard time piecing together enough to say to even do that. Every time I picked up my pencil my hand started to shake. I didn't even recognize my own handwriting.
"Do you want me to read it for you again?" Katniss offered, flipping back to the essay in her own textbook. She had already read the passage out loud to me three times, and we'd talked over it. Then Katniss had proceeded to write out two and a half pages in her tiny, neat handwriting while I struggled to string more than two sentences together. I sighed and shook my head, rubbing my hand over the bare patch of skin at the back of my head. It still itched, though the scab was finally completely gone, and I had to constantly remind myself not to pick at the scar. "Just read mine and rephrase it, she's not even going to care. It's not like there's a lot to interpret here." Katniss held her paper out to me and I took it, laying it on top of my open book. I pulled my hat back on to try and keep myself from scratching as I read.
Katniss all but dictated my essay to me before all was said and done, though she made sure I understood the concepts behind what I was writing. Our teacher had strongly suggested there would be a test of some kind on the material without outright telling us. By the time we had finished my mind felt like static. I dropped my head back against the couch as Katniss moved to sit beside me.
"You okay?" she asked as she leaned against me. I nodded, smiling to myself when I felt her lips on my neck and her head on my shoulder. I truly was okay, though it felt strange to be able to say so. I slipped my arm around her waist and turned my head just enough to rest my cheek against her hair.
The moment didn't last long. Over the past few weeks what had once been a light flutter in the muscles around my eye had turned into a flat out twitch, and it was getting impossible to keep ignoring. I shifted away from her as it began, and rubbed my hand hard against the side of my face, trying to get it to stop. Katniss turned to look at me, planting a soft kiss on my cheek before reaching toward the table and closing my textbook.
"I think we're done with all of that for today," she said. I smirked a little, trying to blink the spots of color out of my vision that had appeared after I stopped rubbing my eye. Even those spots couldn't take my mind off of the feel of her besides me, which was something I would never believe as real.
"Good," I said. There was no way I'd be able to focus on another minute of any of it. Katniss kissed me, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling against her mouth. That was something I would definitely still be able to focus on. As she pulled back I frowned, lifting my chin and inhaling through my nose. "Do you smell that?" It was the same smell that sometimes filled the bakery kitchen when one of us accidentally bumped the damper lever by the oven chimneys, though not nearly as strong. I wondered if Rye had overfilled one of the ovens. It wouldn't be the first time.
"I don't smell anything," Katniss said. The spots got a little worse and then Katniss' hand was on my cheek. She was close enough to me to nearly be in my lap—though I'm not sure how she got there—her face etched with worry. "Peeta? Are you okay?"
"I'm—yeah," I pressed my eyes closed, reaching up and touching her hand lightly. A headache was rolling up from the base of my skull, faster than I was used to. "I th-think, um—I should lay down."
"Okay," Katniss stood up, holding her hands out to me to help pull me to my feet. "Come on." I took her hands, clinging to them when I realized just how unsteady I was on my feet, and let her lead me to my bedroom, making a stop along the way for my pain pills. She stayed with me until they started to kick in, laying beside me and brushing her hand over my forehead, her fingers back through my hair. It helped more than the morphling.
Dad brought me to school the next day. I picked at the edges of my textbooks as he talked. Merx and Verne had given me a few days of peace, though I knew there was no way it would last. That's what Dad kept bringing up. It was bad enough when it was actually happening, rehashing it all the time just made me feel worse.
"I have to talk with your principal, anyway. I think I ought to bring that up with him," Dad said. They were getting ready to add another class into my school day. Another thing I wanted nothing to do with. Two classes a day wasn't getting any easier.
"P-please d-don't," I frowned. As if I needed another thing to add to the list of reasons I was their favorite target.
"Grant Miller was in this morning," Dad said. I could hear the frown in his voice. "I seriously considered having a talk with him about his boy then and there."
"D-Dad," I sighed, rubbing my hand over my face. "J-just let it g-go. It's—f-fine."
"No, it's not," he said softly, almost to himself. I knew what he was thinking. School had set things back. Kicked off new symptoms. My headaches had changed; gotten worse. The lights in the building made me feel sick some days. Any improvement I'd had in my speech was gone. The pain in my wrist was near constant now, to the point that days when it didn't hurt were the ones that stood out.
"D-don't say anything—please?" I turned to look at Dad after we got through the doors to the school.
"I won't," he sighed, stopping outside of the offices as I took over pushing the chair myself. He was still standing there watching when I rounded the corner toward the classrooms.
The last class hadn't quite let out yet, giving me a chance to move through the halls without having to weave my way through the other students. I could feel people staring from the rooms as I wheeled myself past, and I tried to position myself as far out of view as possible outside of the English room. I tried to rub the ache from my wrist as I waited to go inside.
Class was excruciating. I could feel the flutters around my eye that told me a full blown twitch was not far off. I couldn't stop thinking about whether or not Dad would actually listen to me or what might happen if he didn't. I kept my eyes on the desk and on my notes, trying to listen and keep up, but mostly just trying to keep a level head. After collecting our papers Miss Krugel sat on the edge of her desk, asking questions about what we'd read that no one was eager to answer. I sat up a little straighter. For the first time in a very long time, I was able to keep up with the conversation. And then, of course, she called on me.
I knew what she was asking. I knew the answer. It was something Katniss and I had just discussed the night before. When I tried to call up the words to say it, though, I was drawing a complete and utter blank. I couldn't get it out. The longer my silence stretched, the more eyes turned toward me. Merx was turned around in his chair completely. The grin on his face made my stomach churn. I stuttered a brief apology, scratching my fingers up under the edge of my hat.
"Quite alright, Peeta," Miss Krugel smiled. I sagged in my chair, hoping she was about to let me off the hook. "I know you have trouble speaking from time to time." My blood went cold. She did not just say that in front of this entire classroom. Truth or not, whether they knew it already or not, the statement was followed by a few snorts of barely stifled laughter. The loudest came from Merx, who turned around as I sunk a little lower in my chair and pushed my hat further down my forehead.
"Good fucking going, retard," Verne hissed. I just clenched my jaw, allowing myself the briefest glance toward Katniss before dropping my eyes to my desk. She was glaring at Merx, sneering in response to something I didn't catch from him.
"Mr. Miller," the teacher snapped, her voice stern. "Something to share?"
"N-n-n-no m-ma'am," Merx said, joining a few others who laughed at the joke. I hunched forward, hiding my face behind my hands and willing the class to end. I was so focused on that and on holding back the hot sting of tears I felt threatening to slip out of my control that I didn't even notice the bell ring.
"Hey," Katniss said quietly, her hand sliding over the back of my neck. I startled, glancing at the rapidly emptying classroom before looking up at her. She nodded toward the door. "Let's go."
"I'm sorry, Peeta," Miss Krugel said as we passed her on the way out of the class. I just flashed her a brief smile, the look on her face too painfully apologetic for me to stomach.
"That guy is a fucking dick," Katniss snapped, arms folded over her books against her chest, her pace almost too fast for me to keep up.
"Wh—um, d-did he s-say s-" I bit down on my lip, unable to get the sentence out and too aware of the people around us staring at me. I knew she was talking about Merx, about whatever it was he'd said to her after that stupid scene.
"He-" Katniss shook her head and took a breath, slowing down enough to glance at me. Her shoulders dropped. "It's nothing. He's just a shithead. That's all." I frowned, wanting to ask again but afraid to open my mouth. The tension in her set me even further on edge, and I couldn't even find the words to ask her to calm down.
I spent the next class in a haze, staring down at the open textbook in front of me. Every noise echoed in my ears, compounding the ringing in my head and the dull throb of pain in my wrist. I wish I had just stayed home; feigned sleep when Dad came in to get me or just flat out refused to come, citing one pain or another as the reason. The chapter we were meant to be reading was nothing but a blur, even the few illustrations accompanying them were out of focus. To top everything off I was too hot. Sweat soaked into my sweater, though most of the other students had their arms hugged against themselves to stave off the cold in the classroom. A ball of paper bounced off of my forehead and I startled, snapping upright to see Merx turned around in his desk, flipping me the middle finger. Our teacher was nowhere to be found.
"Will you stop it? You're such an asshole," Katniss snapped, her face pinched and angry.
"You need this seam rat sticking up for you, Mellark?" Merx smirked, turning to Katniss. "No wonder Mommy beat the shit out of him for so long. He's fucking spineless." Verne snorted beside me, the only break in the tense silence that followed that comment.
"I swear to fucking god, Merx, I'll-" Katniss cut herself off as our teacher stepped back into the room. He stopped short, his eyes flicking between Merx and Katniss before he looked back toward me.
"Is there a problem here?" he demanded, closing the door behind him. I turned my attention back to my book, trying desperately to ignore the leer I could see on Verne's face out of the corner of my eye.
"No," Katniss said before Merx got the chance to repeat the stunt he pulled in our last class. I glanced up at her. She was turned to look at me and waited until I made eye contact, an apology written on her face. It just pushed me over the edge. I felt the hot sting of rising tears and slouched down in my seat, pressing both hands against my hat and pulling it down over my forehead. There was no hope of holding it back, and no way to hide it well enough. I just hoped that I wouldn't have to hear about it; that I could escape the building as soon as class got out without any more damage.
The muscles in my face and neck hurt from trying to hold back the tears, and my chest was tightening to the point where it was becoming difficult to breathe. The harder I tried to control it, the more the tears seemed to come. To top it all off, the strain was making the glare of the lights and the pounding in my head even worse. My thoughts raced and the fog clouding up my mind was making it difficult to think. Class had ended just before I lost all semblance of composure.
"Are you okay?" Katniss set her hand on my arm.
"You'll b-be—late," I said, glancing back toward the classrooms as we neared the front doors.
"It's fine," she shrugged. "Are you okay?" I looked up at her, letting the wheels run through my hands. My expression said what I couldn't find the words for. She sighed, quickening her pace and opening the door for me. I pushed past her, and she grabbed the back of the chair before I got too far out the door. "Peeta?"
"Yeah?" I stopped, turning to look at her.
"I'll be by after school, okay?" Katniss leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. The gesture drew a brief smile from me, and she repeated it before going back into the building. Rye grinned at me as I approached where he stood waiting, leaning against a low brick wall that lined the path from the doors. The smile dropped from his face as I got closer.
"What's wrong?" he frowned, his voice flat and stern.
"Just—shit day," I said, shaking my head as I wheeled myself past him. Rye blew out a breath as he pushed off the wall and followed behind me, taking ahold of the back of the chair to take over pushing.
"Well, if you'd been at home you would have gotten to watch Dad put some really fucking awkward moves on Mrs. Everdeen for a solid hour and a half," he said. I just pressed my eyes closed. Of course she would be there when I got home. God forbid I catch a break today.
Mrs. Everdeen was sitting at the worktable when we stepped into the kitchen, her posture painfully rigid, a tight smile on her face as she greeted us. Dad was leaning against the counter across from her, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and looking anywhere in the kitchen but at the two of us. The tension in the room was palpable, and I couldn't help but wonder how either of them thought we wouldn't notice.
"Hello boys," Mrs. Everdeen said, her voice stilted. She got up off of the stool and lifted her bag onto her shoulder. "Shall we head upstairs and get started, Peeta?"
"Y-yeah." I nodded, following her to the stairs. I glanced back before climbing up behind her, only to catch Rye smirking at Dad and earning an eye roll and a light shove in return. I slumped on the couch, tugging off my hat and running my hand through my hair with a heavy sigh. Mrs. Everdeen paused, her notebooks in hand, and looked up at me for a moment. "C-can we just—get this over with?"
"Did something happen today?" She straightened up and sat back in the chair across from me, setting the notebooks in her lap.
"I j-just want to—sleep," I said, trying to shrug her off. A few moments of silence passed between us.
"Peeta," she began, her voice soft. "You really do need to talk about these things at some point. I know it's not easy. That's part of what I'm here for, though. I'm not going to repeat any of it, and I won't say anything to anyone unless you ask me to. You may feel better if you talk about it." I chewed my lip and glanced toward her notebooks. I didn't have much talking left in me, and I knew she still planned on running through one of those lists of questions. She looked down at the notebooks, a faint smile crossing her face before she tucked them back into the bag she'd set on the floor by her feet. "We'll skip that today if you'll talk about the things that have been going on at school."
I frowned at the floor, unsure of where to start. Or if I really should start. Mrs. Everdeen waited patiently, watching me as I picked at the seam of my pants. It took me a few long, tense minutes to get my thoughts in order. When I started to speak, though, more came pouring out of me than I expected. I told her about running into Merx and the twins in town at the end of break and about how quickly they'd started in on me once classes started again. I told her some of the things they'd said and the laughter it drew out of some of my classmates.
"You know these things they're saying to you are complete garbage," she shifted, concern etched in her face.
"It's-" I pressed my lips together, trying to get my words in order and stop the trembling in my lip. I began to cry again and quickly wiped the tears away, humiliated I still hadn't gotten that under control. "When th-they call me—retard. Or t-tell me I'm d-defective, they're just—saying what I think ab-about myself already."
"Peeta, look at me," Mrs. Everdeen said. There was a commanding edge to her voice that I wasn't used to hearing. I snapped my attention up towards her. "You are neither of those things. You've suffered. You're still suffering, and you still have a lot of work to do. None of that makes you abnormal. None of it makes you lesser than anyone else. You're stronger than any of those people."
I blinked dumbly at her for a moment; the anger in her voice had me thrown off. Was she angry with me? For thinking those things? With them for saying them? I opened my mouth to speak, but completely lost whatever it was I had to say and turned my attention back to the hole in my pants instead.
"I'm sorry, Peeta," she said, sitting back with a sigh. An awkward silence fell. The longer she watched me the more uncomfortable I felt, and I found myself starting to fidget. "Katniss told me you've been having lunch with Madge and Delly at school. I've figured out a bit about how your friendship with Delly went just from what you, your father, and Katniss have mentioned in passing. How has reconnecting with her been?"
"Um—strange," I chewed my lip, staring at the floor. "I th-thought she would have c-come to see me sooner. Than she did, I mean. That hurt. She d-did, um, apologize though. It's just, um, she's the same—as b-before. But I'm not. I j-just don't, um. I don't-" I cut myself off, unable to put the thought together and growing too frustrated to keep trying.
"You don't know how to relate to her anymore," Mrs. Everdeen said, pulling exactly what I was trying to express from my head. I nodded. She smiled at me for a moment. "I want to pose an idea to you, and I want you to try not to shut out the possibility immediately. I know it'll take some work to get there, but I do think it will do you a lot of good. Not just emotionally, but physically."
"Wh-what?"
"Please don't be upset with him," she said with a smirk. "Your father has shown me some of your artwork. It's good, Peeta. Very good. It's also clearly a huge part of who you are. I think you should start painting again." I couldn't even stop myself from rolling my eyes. There were too many reasons that wasn't going to happen. I could barely hold a pencil for more than a few minutes at a time, and I didn't really have enough motor control to write, let alone draw or paint. It didn't help that that particular hobby was always a point of contention with my mother. I'd never be able to do any of it without my thoughts going somewhere much darker than I could handle. "I'm not going to force it on you, and I'm not going to let anyone harp on the subject with you. It would give you an outlet to express yourself again, and it would be a much more effective physical therapy than any of the things I've shown you for that injured wrist. Just promise me you'll consider it a possibility in the future."
"I—um, I g-guess." I tried to shrug it off, hoping for a change in subject. It only took a few moments for Mrs. Everdeen to find a way to break the silence. We talked about the classes I was taking, about the plan to add a third to my day, and the way the schedule would work out. The entire prospect made my chest feel tight. Mrs. Everdeen's plan was to work me up to a full school day within a month or two, and she made a cryptic reference to some sort of idea she had to ensure I'd move on to the next grade with the rest of my class. I wasn't thinking that far ahead. Honestly, I was hoping to find a way to convince Dad to just let me drop out once the school year ended. Especially if they were planning to hold me back a year.
"Why don't you try to get some rest?" Mrs. Everdeen nodded toward my bedroom down the hall. "You look exhausted. I think I've put you through enough for one day."
"Th-thanks," I smirked, pushing myself up off the couch. A headache was creeping in again and my speech had gotten far worse as the conversation went on. I kept my hand against the wall as I walked toward the bedroom. As soon as I closed the door behind me I yanked off my sweater, threw myself in bed, and tried to ignore the way the room kept spinning around me.
I woke to Katniss lowering herself onto my back. She stretched out on top me, brushing her lips against my cheek before resting her head against my shoulder. I smiled to myself, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. It had gotten dark, and I tried to figure out how long I'd been asleep.
"Hi," Katniss said quietly.
"Hi." I smiled.
"You were asleep every time I came up to check on you," she said, her voice soft and low. I could feel it vibrating through her chest and against my back and absolutely loved it. "I couldn't leave without making sure you're okay, though."
"I'm okay," I said, closing my eyes and burying my face against the blankets. I felt her fingers in the hair at the back of my neck. "What time is it?"
"A little after eight." Katniss scratched her fingers into my hair gently. I felt myself let out a soft hum of approval. "Your dad wants me to learn how to do the books. I stayed to close with him today. Rye had to do all of the kitchen work. I know you love when he gets all worked up; you missed out today." I chuckled quietly and felt her smile against my shoulder.
"S-sorry I slept through it," I said quietly. And I was. Not because of Rye, but because I missed out on an afternoon I could have spent with her.
"Maybe I'll come early tomorrow," she said as she trailed her fingers down my arm. "Since you hid from me today."
"I w-wasn't hiding," I said. I felt her shake against me, trying to hold back laughter. I chuckled softly. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and kiss her, but the way she was laying on me felt too good. If I moved that would be ruined. I took her hand instead, knitting our fingers together and bringing her knuckles to my lips.
"In that case I guess I don't need to come early," she said.
"You, um—you still can," I squeezed her hand. She laughed softly before sliding off to lay beside me.
"I will," she said as I turned to face her. She pressed her lips to mine. "But I have to get home."
"Okay," I said softly, hoping my disappointment didn't show. Katniss didn't move, just smiled faintly and kissed me again, deeper this time. I set my hand on her waist, smiling against her mouth as she shifted closer and slipped her tongue into my mouth.
By the time Katniss reluctantly pulled away from me we were both bordering breathless. Her face was flushed, her lips full and wet, and I wanted nothing more than to take her hand and drag her back into my bed. She kissed me softly, promising she'd be back in the morning, and I watched her leave with a smile on my face.
The taste of her mouth stayed with me, tinged with sugar; something sweet she'd eaten before coming upstairs. I unbuttoned my pants, lifting my hips to slide them down, breathing deep as I curled my hand around my cock. I could still feel her lips on mine and smell her beside me. I tightened my grip as I thought of the way she'd nudged her leg between mine, rubbing her thigh against me as she threaded her fingers in my hair. I couldn't help but wonder if she thought of me after any of the times we spent alone together. The idea of her touching herself had barely even formed in my head when my hips jerked off the bed, a wave of dizzy heat rushing through me. I bit back a grunt as my balls tightened, shooting come up onto my stomach. I dropped my head back against the pillows, swearing quietly and staring at the ceiling as my breathing slowed.
I stretched out on my back after cleaning myself off, trying to sort through the day in my head. The anger and embarrassment I'd felt at school started to return to me, and I struggled to hold it back. It didn't seem fair that I had to go through it all. What had I done to deserve it? What made my mom dislike me so much that she was willing to hurt me that way? I hated those thoughts that played in a constant loop in my head, but no matter how bad they got, it always seemed to end with the knowledge that I have Katniss. She would never be in my life otherwise, and even though I often imagined what life would be like without the injury, it was impossible to imagine going back to any sort of life at all that didn't include her. Rye shoved the door open, interrupting my train of thought as he crossed the room and dropped down onto his bed. I had never really minded the lack of privacy before, but it seemed like whenever I needed it—with or without Katniss—it was impossible to get.
"You know, once Dad figures out what you're up to when she comes up here you're fucked," he smirked, tugging off his shoes.
"I d-don't know what you're—talking about," I said, holding back a smile.
"Please," Rye scoffed. "You're lucky Katniss ducked out before he saw her bouncing through the kitchen all red and disheveled." I chuckled, rubbing my hand over my face. Rye whipped his sweater across the room at me. "Lucky son of a bitch."
"You send D-Delly home all red and d-disheveled every time she's here," I threw the sweater back at him. "Once without pants, ap-apparently."
"But I don't get her in my bed." He caught the sweater and dropped it to the floor before laying down. "Any progress there? She still ripping off her clothes for you?"
"N-none of your business." I smirked.
"I'll take that as a yes," Rye said, laughing quietly. "Make me proud, Peet." I rolled my eyes and chuckled. As much as I wanted more, I couldn't bring myself to think about it—or her—the way Rye did. It felt good to be able to relate to him about all of this though, especially since I had nearly resigned myself to never having any of it.
Eventually Rye's breathing evened out, leveled into a snore, and I was left alone with my thoughts again. My mind raced without any sort of distraction, bouncing from relief at the two day break from school the weekend afforded me to premature dread of going back to class on Monday. I thought of Katniss, too, and the new side of her I was learning. She had always seemed distant and quiet. Aloof. I hadn't seen any of that in a long time, though. She was affectionate and kind, and seemed to see what I needed before I did. It was surprising to see all of that coming from her. I don't think that I, or anyone else for that matter, would have ever expected it. I'm sure most of the people in school wouldn't believe me if I ever had the opportunity, or desire, to tell them.
I got up and pushed the bedroom window open. The room felt like a sauna, and I pulled my shirt off over my head before laying back down. Rye snorted in his sleep, tugging the blankets up around his ears. His snoring evened back out, but he'd be up in a few minutes to close the window, muttering something under his breath about it that he thought I couldn't hear. I stared at the ceiling and waited for it.
"Fuck," Rye hissed under his breath. "Dammit, Peet." He threw the blankets off of himself and leaned over the dresser to shove the window closed. I glanced over at him as he laid back down to huddle under his blankets. It only took a few minutes for his snoring to resume. I rolled out of bed, snatching a t-shirt off the floor and pulling it on as I slipped out the door.
There was a light on in the living room, and I walked quietly down the hall to find Dad sitting on the couch with a notebook in his lap. He glanced up when I looked in, flashing me a faint smile. I returned it before moving into the kitchen and pulling a glass down from one of the cabinets.
"Trouble sleeping?" Dad asked. I glanced over my shoulder as I moved to the sink. He was leaning against the door frame, hands shoved in his pockets. I nodded before pouring myself a glass of water and turning around to lean against the counter. "Me, too." He lifted the notebook in his hand, waving it briefly before dropping it back to his side. I recognized it immediately. "I was hoping a little, uh, reading would solve my problem. Not that your health would put me to sleep, Lavender's just, ah-"
"Painfully thorough?" I supplied, surprising myself with the ease the phrase came out of my mouth. Dad chuckled and nodded.
"If you blink she writes it down," he smirked, glancing down at the notebook. His voice grew soft, almost wistful. "She's a good woman." I bit down hard on my lip, trying to hold back the laughter I felt bubbling up. Dad caught one glimpse of the look on my face and rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping. I couldn't hold it back any longer. "Will you stop?"
"I'm—s-sorry," I said, trying to get my laughter under control. Dad smirked and shook his head. "How, um. How is that going?"
"How is it going with Katniss?" Dad asked, raising an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. I just looked away; I could feel my face burning. "That's what I thought."
"Shut up." I drained the rest of the water before turning around and setting the glass in the sink. I could hear Dad chuckling behind me. As soon as the sound died down all either of us could hear was Rye snoring in the other room.
"Is that what's keeping you up?" he asked.
"One of the th-things," I shrugged as I turned around.
"Did he close the window, too?" Dad stepped into the kitchen and dropped the notebook onto the table. I nodded as he set his hands on one of the chair backs and leaned forward against it. "Still whining about it?"
"He thinks I d-don't hear what, um, what he says," I frowned, looking at the notebook and trying to figure out if I'd be able to sneak a look at what she was writing about me in there. "I think, um, that he thinks I'm s-still as-asleep."
"Would you like to have the room to yourself?" Dad asked.
"Are you k-kicking Rye out?" I smirked.
"No. Not yet, anyway," he chuckled. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and sighed, shifting and glancing toward the hall. "I thought we'd clean out that office. We don't use it. It's big enough," he shrugged. He didn't have to say it. That was Mom's room. Where she hid from us when she just couldn't even handle being in the same space as her own family. "I have to go through everything in there anyway, figure out what we actually need and what I can just... throw away." Dad chewed his lip, his expression blank and distant. After a moment he rubbed his hand over his face. "Sorry."
"It's okay," I said quietly. I wanted to talk to him about her. I needed someone who knew her and loved her to help me untangle everything that wrapped so tightly around my heart every time she was mentioned. There was no way I'd be able to figure out where to begin, though.
"So how would you like your own room?" Dad asked, wiping away any trace of that distance I'd seen in his face and smiling at me. I nodded. It would be nice to end the argument over the window, and nicer to have quiet at night. The laundry room separated our bedroom from the office, even though I'd probably still hear him, the same way I heard Dad snoring at night, it would be quiet enough to ignore a bit easier though. It would mean more privacy with Katniss, at least until Dad decided to ban her from the second floor the way he had Delly. That would also leave me alone, though. For the first time in my entire life. What would it be like to fall asleep without the sound and feel of someone else on the other side of the room?
I couldn't help but think back to when Phyl moved out; when Rye and I were able to dismantle our bunk beds and spread out a bit. It had been so strange to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling instead of the bottom of Rye's mattress that I went a solid month before I could sleep through the night. How long would it take me to adjust to this now? Any deviation from the norm sent me into a panic. When Dad swapped our bedding for the heavier winter blankets in November, I was near tears at the change, and that was something expected. Something that happened every year, our entire lives. Sleeping in a room by myself was wholly new and alien, and the idea of being alone was already starting to terrify me.
"It's going to take a while to get that room cleaned out," Dad said, as if he could see the panic rising in me. He smirked, chuckling to himself. "And to convince Rye that taking the smaller room is not the end of the world." I flashed a brief smile. The idea that he wouldn't be the one to move out of the room hadn't even occurred to me. I couldn't take moving out of the room I'd called my own my entire life. My panic was starting to get a firmer grip on my chest, and I turned away from Dad. The feel of his eyes on me was only making matters worse. I reached for the glass I'd left in the sink, filling it again and setting it on the counter before fumbling with my diazepam bottle. Rye snorted in his sleep and Dad chuckled quietly. "Want me to tell him to sleep on the couch tonight?"
"N-no," I stared down at the pill in my hand before shaking out a second. I hated them; hated taking extra. It wasn't just because of how they made me feel. I knew how expensive those damn bottles were and how little we had to spare. With the panic over sleeping alone taking so thorough a hold on me I needed it, though. And I needed Rye to stay right where he was. "I'll b-be fine."
"Okay," Dad said. I dropped both the pills into my mouth before draining the entire glass of water, my eyes trained on the darkness outside the window over the sink. I tried to look past my reflection. And Dad's. I could feel him watching me. "Goodnight, Peet."
"Goodn-night," I said, glancing back over my shoulder as he reached for the notebook on the table and disappeared down the hall toward his bedroom. I set the glass down in the sink, listening as he closed his bedroom door, to the groan of his mattress springs, the click of the light on the nightstand, and sighed heavily. After a few minutes I went back to my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, looking across the room at Rye as he slept and trying to imagine the room with only one bed in it. I couldn't. I gave up as the medication started to kick in and laid down to let it drag me into sleep.
I woke to the sunlight streaming through the window and hunched my shoulders up, trying to shield myself from it. The room was comfortable, though, with a breeze blowing through it, and I rolled over to see that the window was open. I smiled to myself, stretching and scratching my hands into my hair and wondering whether it had been Dad or Rye who'd opened it before they went down for the morning. Voices drifted up from downstairs, Katniss' among them, and as I got dressed I wondered how long I'd been out.
"I don't know why you're so mad." Gale's voice was the first I heard as I made my way down the stairs, one hand on the wall. I was still a bit groggy, but the last of the diazepam wouldn't fade unless I got myself up and moving. Dad was leaning against the doorway to the storefront at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded over his chest, an amused smile on his face. Katniss was standing at the bottom of the steps and turned to look at me as I got closer to her.
"You're just in time," she said quietly, smiling at me.
"Wh-what's going on?" I said, looking from her to Dad and back. Neither of them offered any explanation.
"I'm mad because I'm fucking sick to death of hearing about you and your fucking girlfriend," Rye snapped, dropping a tray against the worktable. The noise made me jump.
"Language, Rye," Dad warned.
"Delly was on her way out when we got here a little while ago," Katniss said quietly, shifting closer to me. "She hung out with Gale and Madge last night." I rubbed my hand through my hair. That didn't really explain anything to me, and knowing Delly had already been and gone made me wonder exactly what time it really was. I couldn't see the clock from where I was standing.
"Am I making you feel inadequate, Mellark?" Gale smirked, raising his chin and shifting his game bag on his shoulder.
"You're making me feel fucking sick, is what you are," Rye frowned. He rolled his eyes, his voice rising to a ridiculous falsetto as he touched his hand to his chest and hunched up his shoulders in a spot-on imitation of Delly. "Do you know what Gale did for Madge it was just so romantic and sweet and why don't you ever do things like that for me?" Rye's posture sagged and he narrowed his eyes at Gale. "I swear to god if I hear any of that bullshit again I'm fucking coming for you."
"Maybe you should start doing romantic and sweet things for your girlfriend," Gale raised an eyebrow. "Like, y'know, buying her dinner before you weasel her out of her dress." Dad snorted, pressing his knuckles against his mouth and waving us off when all four of us turned to look at him.
"I can't be a part of this conversation anymore," he said, chuckling and shaking his head as he disappeared into the storefront.
"So um, what d-did Gale do?" I asked Katniss quietly.
"That's a good question," she grinned at me before turning to Rye. "Hey, what did Delly say was so sweet and romantic?"
"This motherfucker brought that chick cookies," Rye pointed at Gale. "Fucking cookies. Any fucking idea where he bought those fucking things?"
"Can you calm down with the language, please?" Dad called from the storefront.
"I thought you weren't part of this conversation anymore!" Rye shouted, snapping his head towards the sound of Dad's voice. All he got in response was a quiet chuckle. Katniss covered her face as she laughed, leaning against me as she muffled the sound against her palm.
"I'm sorry that you can't even be bothered to give Delly something you make on a daily basis," Gale said, barely containing his own laughter. "But really, it's not my fault you're such a shitty boyfriend."
"You're doing this on purpose," Rye said, his lip curling. "I fucking know you are. You're just trying to make my life miserable."
"It's working, isn't it?" Gale shrugged, glancing over at Katniss and me with a grin on his face. His eyebrow twitched at the sight of Katniss leaning up against me. It was brief and subtle, but I knew I wasn't imagining it. Did he know about us?
"Yeah, actually, it is," Rye dropped his hands against the table. "A little too fucking well, you asshat."
"Maybe you should try not being a shitty boyfriend," Katniss offered. I felt her hand snake around mine and she linked our fingers together, the gesture hidden by how close she was standing to me. I squeezed her hand and smiled to myself.
"I am an excellent fucking boyfriend," Rye snapped.
"You do realize you are supposed to be more than just a fucking boyfriend, right?" Dad called from the storefront. There was a beat of silence as the four of us registered what he meant. Everyone but Rye doubled over in laughter. He let out a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Fuck you, Dad," he muttered, letting out a defeated chuckle.
"Take the night off and take your girlfriend out," Dad said, stepping back into the doorway. "To the restaurant, not the slag heap."
"See what you've gotten me into?" Rye turned to Gale, gesturing toward Dad. "You're a dick."
"So, you're going to yell at me because you don't do anything nice for your girlfriend. Ever," Gale said, lifting his chin a little. "And then get mad because you are getting the chance to do something nice for her?"
"Lick my taint," Rye snapped, turning to the counter behind him and moving the bowl of cookie dough resting there onto the worktable.
"Where the hell did I go wrong with that one?" Dad muttered to himself, shaking his head and disappearing back into the storefront. Katniss snorted, ducking her chin as her shoulders shook with silent laughter. I turned my attention toward her, whatever else Rye and Gale had to say to each other fading into the background. She watched the two of them, laughing as she did. I was mesmerized by her; the crinkle of her eyes when she smiled, the way she pressed her tongue between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. When she turned to me, that smile still on her face, my breath caught in my throat.
"Ready to go?" Gale said, dragging her attention away from me.
"Oh, I'm staying," Katniss said.
"Fantastic," Rye squeezed out through gritted teeth.
"You are?" Gale raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on his face as he looked from Katniss to me and back again.
"Yeah." Katniss tugged the strap of her game bag, shifting it on her hip. "Brought a change of clothes. Too long of a walk," she shrugged, trying to dismiss it. Gale didn't buy it, just nodded and smirked at me.
"Alright then," he said. "See you next week, Mr. Mellark."
"Twain," Dad corrected, still out of sight in the storefront.
"Twain," Gale echoed quietly, rolling his eyes. He backhanded my arm. "See you around, buddy. Have fun, Catnip."
"Shit, Hawthorne, will you just get the fuck out already?" Rye scowled, slapping the dough onto the tray angrily. If he didn't fix what he was doing those were going to be some hideously inconsistent cookies.
"Later, yeastbag," Gale flipped Rye off as he disappeared out the door.
"Eat shit, chigger crotch!" Rye shouted after him.
"For the love of god, Rye," Dad was at the doorway in an instant. "Will you get your mouth under control?" He gestured toward Katniss. Rye rolled his eyes and Katniss turned toward me, distracting me immediately.
"Let's go upstairs," she said quietly, nodding toward the staircase. I glanced toward Dad and Rye, letting her lead me up the stairs without actually waiting for my response. She dropped down to sit on my bed, kicking off her shoes before scooting back to lean against the wall, and immediately started telling me more about what had just gone on down in the kitchen. Apparently Gale knew exactly what he was doing, and saved anything over the top for when he knew Delly would be around to see it.
"He is really good to her," she said as I sat down beside her. "Now he's just carefully timing what he does anyway. I think Madge knows what he's doing."
"D-do you, um," I bit down on my lip, feeling like an ass for taking so long to ask this. "Want to g-go out?" Katniss turned to me, a slow smile spreading across her face.
"Like on a date?"
"Um, y-yeah," I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. "A real one. Not, um, t-to my brother's or anything." She laughed and shifted closer, leaning against me when I carefully slipped my arm around her shoulders.
"I'd love to," she said, dropping her head back against my shoulder. "I think your Dad roped me into the late shift tonight, though."
"Well, not t-tonight," I said, smirking a little. I turned my face toward her hair. She smelled like woodsmoke and pine and incoming snow.
"Tomorrow," she said before turning toward me.
"Okay," I half-chuckled, raising my eyebrows. She grinned and kissed me, and she could have said 'right now' and I would have said yes. Anything she wanted. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her down on top of me as I sank back against the pillows, her mouth never leaving mine.
Somehow we've run out of time to respond to reviews recently, I'm sorry guys. It's been a busy few weeks around here. Thank you so much for all your amazing support. We're going to do our best to get back on track with that soon. If you have any burning questions or comments feel free to direct them to either myself or my husband on tumblr. I'm alonglineofbread, he's yourpeetaisshowing.