Repeat after me: Everlark is endgame. Just keep doing that and we'll get through this. Promise!
Music: "Dust to Dust" by The Civil Wars.
Peeta
I hate that she's hurt. I hate that she has to see me with Madge. It's my fault. It hadn't felt right, sitting on Madge's side of the table instead of Katniss's.
Still, I hadn't expected her to be so acrid to Madge, or for her to gut me with her silent thoughts, glaring at me like I don't belong to her family, that the cottage isn't my home too. I guess I don't know everything about Katniss. Maybe that was just a fantasy of mine.
Madge wants to see the ocean before we head into town. We'd checked in her suitcases at her hotel's front desk right after she landed, so we have nothing to lug around now. It's a shock having her here, both my lives colliding, while I'm in the middle.
I lead Madge to the ocean, feeling the tug in my chest as we pass the spot where Katniss and I like to sit. Madge sighs at the waves, though the tide is pretty feral tonight, slamming into the sand. In her dress, she's elegantly casual, but it's weird. Has her hair always been so groomed, not a hint of frizz, even in this climate? Have her clothes always been so free of wrinkles? Has she always been this tidy and...perfect?
At the airport, I noticed a lot right away, things I hadn't noticed back home like her expensive and superfluous pink sandals, and her matched luggage. She hugged me back and wept dainty tears, but our kiss had been close-mouthed. Neat.
Seeing Madge after nearly eight months is like seeing a picture. There' s nostalgia as well as affection, but it's still part of the past, not part of the present. She moves in front of me and leans against my frame, and after a moment, I slip my arms loosely around her waist. She came all this way just for me. She's entitled to an explanation for Katniss's attitude.
I hang in my head in thought, torn between anger and remorse, yearning and hurt. The constant fluctuation of feelings drives me crazy. And I miss Katniss. After only ten minutes, I miss her more than I've ever missed my girlfriend.
Madge giggles. "You're so quiet."
"Am I?" I say.
"It's romantic here. Like in a movie. Has the island's allure tamed your monologues?" she teases.
"The ocean is loud, so probably not. Though the people aren't loud, so you could also be right. They rub off on me."
Madge's head tips down as she glances at her shoes. Her next words are measured. "Your host sister is stunning."
"Her boyfriend thinks so."
"Oh? She has a boyfriend?"
"She has a Greek god. Hey, I'm sorry about dinner."
"Don't be, " she says, but I detect a note of pleasure over my concern. "Katniss is probably just suffering from only-child syndrome."
This off-handed comment chafes at me. It also makes me think of Primrose.
Madge sighs. "It must be hard having no one, then gaining a brother, then losing him when his girlfriend arrives."
I stare at the violent waves. Katniss hasn't lost me.
"Being an only child makes a person needy," Madge adds.
"She's not like that, " I defend, more sternly than I meant to.
"I'm just saying that she can't be blamed for the way she acts."
I'm not a fan of that remark and feel like I'm betraying Katniss by letting it slide. Madge is my girlfriend, but Katniss is...my best friend.
"And in a small country like this, it's no wonder that she latched onto you," Madge finishes.
My arms unwind from around her waist. "Katniss doesn't latch onto anyone. "
"Really?"
"Really."
But what bothers me the most is that Madge might be right. Maybe that's all I am to Katniss, just someone to cling to. The possibility crawls into my stomach and settles there.
Madge turns and flattens her palms on my chest. She grins apologetically. "You're right. I don't know her. And why are we talking about your host family anyway? I missed you so much."
She rises on her toes to kiss me. I hesitate, then kiss her back, hoping to make up for everything that's happened, everything I'm feeling, everything she doesn't know. Essentially, I throw myself into the kiss, wanting to prove other parts of my brain wrong because Madge and I are right for each other. I owe her this moment, and nothing has changed, nothing at all. Isn't that right?
The force of my lips causes Madge to moan. I should be consumed and burning for her, but a flash of gray races behind my closed eyes. Frustrated, I kiss Madge deeper, but my body is numb and pulse is normal, although a kiss like this is supposed to feel like it did when...when... I pry my mouth from Madge's. It's early, I tell myself. She just got here, so it will take time to get back into the swing of things.
Madge flushes. "You've never kissed me like that before."
It's better not to take this as an insult. "Well, that's how I kiss now."
She presses herself against me. "Let's go back to my room."
The hotel is in the village square. Compared to the tourist resorts in the north shore, this minuscule building is a shack made of paper-thin walls with only a handful of rooms containing rickety beds. It's not exactly five stars, but it's the only thing near my host family's place.
I'm going to make a lame joke about the amenities, but then Madge starts unzipping her dress. Which spirals me into a panic. I sense the onslaught of a very long monologue coming on, a conga-line of words ready to pile out.
Madge drops the dress, revealing a pink ensemble of straps and lace, and steps forward.
"Not here," I say.
Madge frowns. "Why not?"
Digging up a reason takes a second. "It, uh, should be special. Under the stars, not under a chipped ceiling. We should wait, find the right place."
She laughs wryly. "If you wanted a different setting, we could have found somewhere at the beach."
I tap dance around that with a portion of the truth. "I hadn't seen the room yet."
"Oh Peety, I'm not genteel. This room is... rustic. Old world."
"But you're not." It comes out like an accusation, so I backpedal. "We should take it slow. We shouldn't rush this."
"It's been months."
"Yeah, but seeing this place puts everything into perspective."
Madge looks pouty and doubtful. "The first night back together is an ideal time to do it. It sets the pace."
"Frankly, I don't give a shit about those standards."
"Peety!" she lectures, disappointed. "What happened to your vocabulary?"
I frame her shoulders. "Don't you want it to be perfect for our anniversary?"
Perfect. The magic word.
Madge crosses her arms. "Well..." She relents with a wan smile. "It has been a long day. And under the stars would be nice."
She nestles against me in bed. She angles her head for more kisses, which I give her until she's sufficiently mollified. The sheets are coarse and the mattress squeaky, but she falls asleep easily. Meanwhile, I stay awake and long for the sound of Katniss, the feel of Katniss, the sight of Katniss. I fret, wondering if she's having a nightmare.
I get my answer the next morning when Madge and I walk back to the cottage for breakfast. Katniss is tending to her mother's garden, yanking weeds from the soil. She halts when she spots us and gets up, wiping dirt from her skirt. It's the same one from last night, because she hasn't changed, not even my white shirt, which is wrinkled and hanging off her like a curtain. Taking in her disheveled appearance, resigned expression, and the dark shadows beneath her solemn gray eyes, I come to the sinking conclusion that she hasn't slept. The knowledge cleaves me in half.
God. What the hell am I doing?
The three of us linger awkwardly by the front porch. Madge slips her arm through mine. "Hello, Katniss," she says.
Instead of issuing another unfair attack, Katniss musters a nod. Then she faces me and offers a carefully manufactured grin. I am happy for you.
I see right through the act. But that's it. We've made our choices, if we had any to begin with, when we both have people who trust us and a time limit over our heads, an ocean that will eventually split us apart. I feel her slip through my fingers the way water would.
After an unnerving breakfast—Katniss doesn't join us, electing to disappear into the bathroom instead—Madge chats with Violet at the table. I go into my room to grab a few things I'll need while showing her around the island. And on my bed, I find my white linen shirt returned to me, painstakingly folded but still wrinkled.
kpkpkpkpkp
She wears an orange flower in her hair. It's a waterlily, the smallest one that I've ever seen, a type that can only be found in Panem. Peeking out from behind her ear and framed by her dark hair, the flower is the first thing I notice from across the square.
Since it's Spring Break from school, and I've been staying at the hotel, this is my first glimpse of Katniss in three days. She's wearing a new dress, or most likely something she borrowed from one of her girlfriends, strapless and dyed a rebellious red color, the hem split into ribbons, like flames fanning around her thighs. She's glowing and pretty and fearless, radiant compared to than the last morning I saw her.
She's not alone. As the band plays, she dances with Finnick, their bodies strung together. He spins her away from him and then whisks her forward, her leg and skirt slashing the air as she twirls. Their arms flick out and do a complicated series of movements, winding and tangling around each other, then fluidly breaking free from the web. They've had practice with one another, from way before I came here.
All I can do is stand by and watch. The thing is, Katniss didn't tell me there would be another protest about the fishing permits. This is the third one, if I count her solitary attempt back in September. Jo and Tigris are backing up the band, shaking their hips and two sets of maracas. Mrs. Trinket stands in a corner, chirping at Cinna. Gale Hawthorne is laughing with a bunch of other guys.
It's like everyone knew to be here except me. I may have been busy touring the island with Madge, but Katniss could have told me what was happening. The fact that she didn't is another blow, like she's shutting me out, or she really believes this isn't my business since, as she put it, I'm nothing but a visitor.
Well, she couldn't have thought that I wouldn't discover it when the protest is happening right outside Madge's hotel. My girlfriend squeezes my hand and gasps at the night's setting the second we step out of the lobby. We'd been planning on catching a cab and then taking an evening walk through the more touristy north shore, where the merchant class lives. But Madge loves parties, which means she'll want to stay here. The musicians, their exotic rhythms, and the dancing throng beneath the overhead cords of light guarantee it.
Madge is riveted. Most likely she won't be as cozy with the atmosphere when she learns it's an illegal street fest. I'm about to explain the situation when Katniss and Finnick abandon the crowd. They find a table, where she perches on his lap and grins at him, steering my thoughts off course.
What did I expect? For her to pine over my absence, in addition to the nightmares she might be having? No way would I want that for her.
I'm shredded anyhow. I guess just I just expected her to miss me like I've missed her. Evidently, this is a glimpse of how it will be when my year is up—everything going back to normal, with her life full of music and the ocean and Finnick.
My jaw locks. Her silence will still be there, though. The prediction gives me a validated feeling, which means that I'm a jerk, because it's wrong to wish that on her. She provokes me to think in un-Peetafied ways.
"Oh," Madge says. "Is that Katniss' s boyfriend?"
It's a rhetorical question, so I'm saved from having to answer. My girlfriend is doing her best to sound casual, but her awe is clear. Finnick has a magnetic effect on girls.
Katniss chooses that moment to glance around the area and see me, her expression faltering. Turning away, I find Madge gazing from me to Katniss and back again. I offer her a practiced smile, gaining a soft one in return.
She wiggles my elbow. "Well, um, aren't you going to introduce me?"
My stiff legs lead us to Katniss's table. On our way, people cast Madge looks of interest. Many of the villagers know me by now, but with Madge as a new addition, they're obviously trying to decide whether she's a visiting sister or my sweetheart. They've been speculating since she arrived, but even Greasy Sae has left us alone. The islanders aren't nosy.
When Katniss realizes we're heading toward her table—I remain impassive because I'm still mad at her and want her to know it—she tenses and maneuvers closer to Finnick. And when Finnick catches sight of me, his face tightens, his arm slinking possessively over the slopes of Katniss's shoulders.
However, his eyebrows shoot up once he notices that I have a girl with me. Didn't Katniss mention Madge to him? Well, it's Finnick. I'm probably the least popular topic of conversation with him.
Katniss bobs her chin at Madge, formal and reserved. Madge mumbles a noncommittal, "Hi."
"And what have we here, " Finnick inquires.
Mimicking his earlier move, I tuck Madge to my side. "This is Madge, my girlfriend."
"Well, well. The golden-haired girl worth waiting for," he says over the music. "Crossed the ocean to see your baker boy, have you? Welcome to the tropics."
Madge blushes. Finnick multitasks by flashing his teeth at her while riding his hand up Katniss's bare thigh, the action burning a hole between my eyes.
"Speaking of oceans, are you enjoying our beaches?" he asks.
"Oh, I..." She blushes even more. Soaking up the sun was one of the first things she wanted to do, brushing off my preface about nudity until we got to the sea and she saw how daylight altered the setting. Naked bathers no longer surprise me, but Madge had avoided peeking at anyone the entire time we were there.
She finally settles on, "The beaches are, ah, quite a sight."
For the first time, Katniss tries to be a good sport. She grabs her notebook and writes, By the time you leave, you will be used to it.
"I doubt that," Madge responds in a trim voice. "Peety tells me that you taught him to swim."
I did, Katniss writes. With pleasure.
"During the day or at night?"
Does that matter?
"Oh, I'm quite certain it didn't. I'm just curious about your tactics."
It happens too quickly to for me to react. Katniss hops off Finnick's lap, and Madge juts out her chin. The girls launch into a very blunt staring contest, with Katniss leaning forward, invading Madge's personal bubble and leveling her with a blank expression that speaks volumes under the surface. It fractures Madge's resolve and causes her to look away first.
Finnick watches them carefully and, to his credit, intervenes before I do. He slides off the table's bench and arranges his features into another cavalier smile. "Do you Salsa?" he asks Madge.
She blinks. "Do I what?"
"Peeta, what have you been depriving this girl of?" He offers her his arm. "I insist."
Madge hesitates and looks to me for permission. She's excited to dance, I can tell.
"Go ahead," I say.
Poseidon gets the same permission from Katniss, then leads Madge smoothly into the mass. I stare after them until I can't stand it anymore and turn to Katniss. Her notebook is there, but she's not. She's gone.
I find her hidden amongst the trees and flowering bushes across the street. Her dark frame is leaning against the bark of a palm. Overhead, the mockingjays tweet along with the music from the square. I think she came here to listen to them.
She's ethereal like this, her lone silhouette better than any photograph could capture. It would be so easy to sneak my arms around her from behind. Whether she'd let me at this point is questionable.
Without turning, she raises her arm and motions for me to join her. My face burns from having been caught. Standing next to her, I bury my hands in my pockets and watch her profile in the dark, the moon and the bulbs from the fest giving us sufficient light to see one another.
"Was I that obvious?" I say.
She regards me sideways and indicates my feet. You have a heavy walk.
"That might be why I can't dance."
A predator will detect a gait like yours.
"Are we expecting that kind of company?"
If you hear a rattle, stay calm.
I'm not in the mood for games. "Have you been sleeping okay?"
She winces but nods.
"Fine, so we got that out of the way. You know I'm not happy with you for not...for the way you treated Madge that first night."
She bristles. I'm sorry.
"That's it? So easy?"
What do you want?
I don't know. I don't know what I'm madder about. That I'm crushing her, that I'm equally crushed by what she said to me at the dinner table, that she was rude to Madge, or that I had the nerve to expect her to welcome Madge with open arms in spite of a broken heart, or that Katniss seems to be getting over the whole thing easily with Finnick, or that I'm jealous as hell of him, or that I've been holding that against her. I'm an asshole of epic proportions for expecting her to behave any other way toward this whole mess.
Katniss begins to stomp off. My hand shoots out and seizes her arm. "Don't," I plead. "Don't walk away. That's all you ever do."
It could either be my tone or my grasp that shocks her. She wrenches away from me and scowls, and of all reactions, that one digs a crater-sized hole in my gut.
"Katniss, I'm sorry," I say, ashamed. "I just don't know how to handle this. I'm...God, I'm sorry."
Her eyes thaw. I don't blame you.
"But do you forgive me?"
Only if you'll forgive me.
I'm mystified. "There are people who I don't understand with words. Yet without words, I understand you perfectly. Why?"
Katniss shrugs, my question unnerving her, or so I think until she offers me her hand. You can dance fine.
She would know. She's the one who taught me.
I should be worried about Madge, who doesn't know where I am and has been left with a stranger. But Madge enjoys meeting people, and the villagers are all nice, and if anything Finnick will make her comfortable. Katniss trusts him, so I do too. I dislike him, but he's not the shark I once took him for. And I just want to stay here, near her.
With a balmy stringed melody seeping into the enclosure, my body is drawn to hers. She links her fingers over the nape of my neck while my hands land on her hips, and we sway from side-to-side, our chests and stomachs and thighs rubbing in a slow, sensual dance. She bites her lip, the innocent action spiking my pulse and rousing forbidden places below my waist.
We need a distraction. "You've been busy."
She nods. Cray didn't think we'd try again.
"Will he arrest people?"
Ha! Of course. That can't be prevented.
Except there's no room in Panem's jails, and the debacle will make his cronies tired. That's the point, I assume. Everyone's learning how to speak up and succeed, because of Katniss.
"You didn't tell me about this," I grouse.
She drops her gaze. Like everything else, I hear what she won't communicate: I thought you would be too busy to come.
Needles prick my skin. "Oh, you think that highly of me, huh? That I wouldn't support you?"
She looks at me. Madge is your priority now. Time with her is precious.
"I haven't been sleeping with her," I blurt out like an idiot.
This stuns Katniss for a second, but she recovers. Thankfully, she doesn't dwell on what I said. I don't know how you are together, so I didn't know if this night would be an inconvenience to you. And... She draws a shaky breath that makes her breasts quiver against my chest. I didn't want to be rejected.
A cracked sounds falls from my lips. "I would never do that."
Sadly, she shakes her head like I'm a lost cause. I've already rejected her many times, meaning there's no reason that I wouldn't do it again. The very possibility of my refusing her was enough to scare Katniss from asking me to come to the fest at all. The remorse swells in my throat.
"Katniss, you're never an inconvenience," I say. "You have no idea..."
She waits for me to continue.
"...no idea what you mean to me."
I get it, though. She would have had to seek me out, find me and Madge, which she must have wanted to avoid because...it's plain on her face. She wants me, but she's decided to give up. This dance won't ever happen again.
Our hands wander, hers traveling the length of my arms, mine sneaking toward the curves of her hips. How did I end up here in this country, on this island, in this lush alcove with this brave and strong girl? This girl who wears a waterlily in her hair, whose drugging looks render me stupid. A girl who...I stop deluding myself...who I have immeasurable feelings for.
I want her to be mine. I want to give her everything, make her happy, make her smile. I want to kiss her so badly. I want to press her against the nearest palm tree, hitch her leg over my waist, and coax a rusty moan from her throat. I want always. I want that more than anything. But I don't have the right.
We continue to dance, to crave what we can't have. I'm another person she's lost, yet there's no self-pity staring back at me. There's understanding. There's an end.
You have my heart. But I get to keep my will.
"Katniss, please." I have no idea what it is that I'm begging for.
We will finish this dance, and then I will go, and we will forget. Okay?
"I don't want to forget," I whisper.
Yes, you do.
Yes, I do. I'm not like my mother, a liar and a cheater. Whatever I feel in this private enclosure is a trance that will lift once I get back to the square. It has to.
Maybe it's the finality of Katniss's words, but something else suddenly bothers me, a bizarre sixth sense like a premonition warning me not to let her leave this place, not to let her go. It extends beyond the romantic sense, kicking up the protective side of me in spite of the whole thing being random and superstitious.
The trepidation vanishes when her hand steals up to touch my face, my eyelids falling shut at the contact of her palm against my cheek. Her lips skate across my ear and then pause to sweep the ground out from under me. Somehow I'm aware of what she's about to do, even before the birds stop to listen.
I suck in a mouthful of air and go still. A voice like fog, like a dream, drifts from her mouth as she whispers, "Peeta."
I splinter apart, helpless to stop her when she twists from my embrace and disappears back the way she came, taking her voice and my name with her.
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Also, the deadline is approaching for streetlightlove's charity, s2sl (Stories to Save Lives), in which many wonderful Everlark writers have contributed fanfics. My one-shot "Poet" will be in the collection and won't be posted anywhere else, so if you'd like to read it on Valentine's Day, please donate and support a good cause!