CHAPTER 3: Playing Pretend
Peeta jogged behind Katniss, and despite his clipped pace, he found himself falling behind her swift footfalls. How could she move so quickly in those shoes? Not two hours ago she had been complaining that they were "a new and cruel form of torture devised by the Capitol."
Her lean calves flexed as she took long, sure-footed strides, barrelling toward her compartment as if their lives depended on it. Out of habit, Peeta cast a glace over his shoulder, but, unsurprisingly, no one was tailing them.
"Could-" he huffed. "Could you slow down? Katniss- my..." He tripped a bit, rather conveniently. "My leg..."
This was all he had to say, and Katniss stopped short, turning to look at him, her back pressed instinctively against the wall of the train's narrow, dimly-lit hallway. Peeta nearly ran into her, but was able to side-step and end up with his back pressed against the opposite wall of the hallway.
Peeta could feel his cheeks burning a bit. During the Games, Peeta had felt embarrassed about his clumsiness in relation to Katniss's physical prowess, and that was before his artificial leg. He wished he could be more... more.. what? Like him? Like Gale?
He was part of the reason his engagement to Katniss was just a show, and not for real. Gale, her hunting partner, for whom she felt the utmost respect, companionship, and what else? Love?
The events of the evening suddenly hit Peeta a bit hard, as he looked into Katniss's face and realized that they were engaged to be married - that they would be married. He could feel a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his shortness of breath.
Katniss's keen, grey eyes were studying his, trying to see into the boy to whom she was now promised. Though she herself had suggested the engagement, Peeta knew that she resented it. His eyes dropped to her shoes.
They were pink. For some reason, whenever the Capitol was feeling wary towards Katniss, Cinna dressed her in pink - not that Peeta minded. He didn't care what she wore; in a burlap sack she would still be the same Katniss to him. He supposed Cinna chose pink to draw attention to the fact that she was just a girl from District 12, and he, just a boy, and they, just in love - but they weren't.
Peeta swallowed hard. The weight in his chest seemed to be settling, so he dared to raise his eyes to meet hers. On the way, he couldn't help but appreciate her, pink high-heeled shoes peeking out from under the flowing layers of her ruffled rose colored gown, which was gathered in a ribbon at her waist. Small sleeves capped her shoulders like tiny wings, and a single strand of pearls elegantly looped her neck. She had made fast work ripping her hair out of the up-do that her prep team had wrestled it into once they made it back to the train; so her dark hair fell in protesting tangles around her shoulders and down her back.
Peeta smiled as his eyes reached her face - her usual hardened look was softened by her puzzled expression, and all of the girlish make up didn't help her to make her look anymore like herself. He realized that she was still studying him, waiting for an explanation as to why he had halted her progress towards her room.
"Just, don't be in such a rush, okay?" Peeta said, trying to keep his voice soft. "Even-" he faltered, then found his voice again. "Even, if it isn't real, you and I got engaged tonight, and I want to remember everything I can about it."
Without a word, her face snapped back to its previous hardened determination, and she turned on her heel away from him to resume her previous pace. This was a bit silly, since she was only a few of her lengthy strides from her door. When she got to it, she stopped.
Peeta wasn't sure what he had expected. Of course she didn't know what to say to him when he sprung something like that on her. "I'm sorry." His voice came too quickly. "I know you don't- that- it's not the same for you."
"Are you coming?" She barked. Then, after a moment, "You don't have to. I would-" she sighed heavily, and took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I would understand if you wanted to be alone."
"Do you want to be alone tonight, Katniss?" Peeta asked her, holding his breath. He wanted to stay with her so badly, even just for one more night.
"I don't know."
She didn't move, but she didn't look at him either.
He knew when they got back, that everything would change again. No more kisses, no more sleepovers, and no more... playing pretend. He had become so accustomed to playing pretend - ever since the arena.
Pretending to be a career, pretending to be in love, pretending it never happened, and now, pretending to be more in love than ever, but... this getting engaged. It wasn't for pretend. It was real. They would be married.
He and Katniss would be married; Katniss would be his wife. It was the feelings behind it that were pretend. Katniss was pretending to love him for the world, and he, Peeta, was pretending not to love her so much that it hurt sometimes for... for who? For her, he supposed. Maybe for himself, but not tonight. This was not what he wanted tonight.
"I don't want to play pretend anymore."
"Is that what we're doing in my bed at night?" Katniss folded her arms across her chest, protectively. "Playing pretend?"
"Yes." Peeta pushed himself off of the wall, and moved towards her door. "You're pretending that you're you're not ashamed to think of what Gale and your family would say if knew that you and I were sharing a bed." He wasn't saying it to be hurtful, merely because it was true. Katniss seemed to understand this, as she shrugged ascent for him to continue. "And I'm pretending it won't break my heart just as badly the second time we return to District 12 together."
His eyes met hers, and he wished he could take back his words, true or not. Katniss's eyes were shining with tears, though her voice remained steady when she said, "Fine, no pretending. I can't stand to imagine what Gale would think; how he would react to- this. To us."
She turned to open her door, and as she turned the knob, she finished with, "And I won't pretend that I don't want you in my bed tonight, even though I know it will break your heart." She pushed the door open and entered in a fluid motion, leaving the door open behind her.
Peeta stayed back a moment to think. Waking up the next morning was going to hurt, but less, if he didn't wake up alone.
He followed her in, and gently closed the door.
Peeta was surprised to hear running water, and peered around the dark compartment to find the source. A sliver of light cast a trail to the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. Katniss's dress and shoes lay in an unceremonious pile in front of the door.
"K- Katniss?"
Peeta was confused. Had she not expected him to come in after all?
"I'm in here." She called. "It's okay. I'm not... naked." She fumbled the word.
Peeta entered cautiously anyway, unsure quite what to expect. Katniss was perched on the edge of the bathtub in a pale pink silky slip, her legs submerged mid-calf in bubbly bathwater. She didn't smile when she saw him, but she scooted over a bit, making room on the bathtub edge for him.
He sat, facing away from the water at first, and untied his dress shoes. He placed them aside in a neat pair, then removed his socks. He folded them and laid them across his shoes, then rolled up his pant legs to his knees.
He stood and turned, removing his suit jacket and folding it over his arm. He set the folded jacket carefully on top of the pile of his shoes, then began loosening his tie when he noticed Katniss looking at him, and now, she was smiling.
"What?" Peeta asked, rolling up his sleeves, and finally stepping into the bathwater. It was hot, and obviously had some special Capitol mineral in it, because his tired feet instantly felt tingly and a bit numbed. As he sat down next to her on the edge of the tub, Katniss glanced from him to his neat pile of footwear, to her pile of garb sitting just outside the door, then finally back at him as if to explain her amusement.
After the tub had filled another inch or so, Katniss used her toes to turn knobs of the faucet until the water stopped flowing, and leaned her head on Peeta's shoulder. They sat with their hands in their laps, and watched as one by one, the bubbles in the bath popped, and they started to see bits and pieces of their feet.
It occurred to Peeta suddenly how young they must look, how vulnerable. If only President Snow could see them now. Surely, he would know that he had nothing to fear from two kids, so tongue tied by their pasts that their present had trapped them, unsure of how to proceed.
Peeta spotted a white washcloth draped across the faucet of the tub. Wordlessly, he picked it up, dipped it into the bathwater, which was quickly growing tepid, and turned to face Katniss.
"Here." He offered the cloth towards her face. She made no motion to take it from him, but rather closed her eyes, and remained still.
Carefully, Peeta used a corner of the washcloth to wipe the make up from Katniss's face, revealing all of the features deemed "imperfect" by the Capitol. The few freckles that decorated her just slightly crooked nose, the dimple she had on only her right cheek, and even the almost indiscernible scar on the left side of her forehead where Clove had cut her in the Games - when she had been retrieving medicine for him. When most of her make-up had been removed, he leaned in and kissed that very spot.
"I love you."
Well, there it was. No more pretending.
Katniss said nothing, just stared at him sadly. After a moment, she raised a hand to his cheek, and he turned into the soft touch, kissing her palm.
"Peeta, you know I-"
Her hand dropped from his face, as did her gaze. He caught her chin and brought her eyes back to look into his.
"I don't need you pretend to love me back."
"I wish I didn't have to." She admitted. "Pretend, not love you."
"Then don't." Peeta rose from the ledge of the tub and offered her his hand.
"Peeta, you know it's not that simple." Katniss took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.
Peeta smiled, and spoke, genuinely. "Of course it's not."
He turned away from her and moved out of the bathroom to the bed without saying anything else. He removed his pants, vest, shirt, and undershirt. All of these he folded and placed in a neat pile on a chair by her bedside, just like every night - but this wasn't just like every other night.
"Tonight, can't you just be my bride-to-be, Katniss?"
He couldn't look at her, too afraid that she would be hurt, or angry. Instead, he inspected the fraying hem of his undershorts.
"Okay."
Her voice came softly, like the coo of a Mockingjay.
Peeta dared to raise his head, only to find that she was standing directly in front of him, still in her pink slip. Her figure could not be hidden by the flimsy cloth, and Peeta blushed, in spite of himself.
Katniss took his hand, and seated herself next to him on the bed.
"Tonight, let's be engaged."
For a long moment, there was only the soft sounds of the train's engine, distant, moving them towards their home District, 12.
Then her tone indiscernible, she said, "Let's be married... so that... it will always be real to us; so that, no matter what ridiculous dance we have to do for the Capitol, we will always know where we stand, you and I."
"Husband and wife?" Peeta nearly choked on the words.
"Allies." Katniss said, eyes fixed straight ahead. "Now and forever. You and me."
Peeta's heart sank, allies was not exactly a romantic definition for the bond between them, but he knew that she was right. Their Capitol marriage would never be real to them, nor to anyone in District 12, especially not with Katniss's past with Gale, of that he was damn sure. If it was ever going to be real to anyone, even if it was just them, it had to be now.
"Okay." Peeta answered, the same hollow tone in his voice as hers. "I'd like that."
Neither of them moved.
"I can- build the fire." Katniss rose, and Peeta caught her hand. He wanted to say something, but words seemed so, inadequate for what he was feeling. Sadness, joy, powerlessness, longing. Too many feelings for even the eloquent Peeta Mellark to express in just words.
"I had always hoped... that I would bake the bread for our Wedding Toast," was all that ended up coming out. It seemed to do alright at expressing all the hopes and dreams that they were preparing to let go of in the next hour or so.
"I didn't want to wear pink." she offered, a sad smile showing off her single dimple.
"You don't have to."
Peeta crossed to his pile and pulled out his white tuxedo shirt. He returned to Katniss and placed it in her hands.
"It's white, and it's probably big enough to be a dress on you."
"But... what will you wear?" She was fighting a smile, which made Peeta realize that he was grinning like an idiot.
"We can trade." He glanced down at the skimpy slip on Katniss's body that would never fit him in a million years. When he looked back up, she was laughing, but she was crying too. He opened his arms, and she hugged him, tightly, but for just a moment. She pushed away, and began unbutton the dress shirt.
"Call a Capitol attendant for some bread, will you?"
"Katniss-" Peeta felt guilty, for her tears.
"Just- do it."
She looked into his eyes, and he knew that she meant it, tears and all. This was not for pretend.
She built a fire in the compartment's tiny fireplace, and a Capitol attendant brought them a small loaf of bread - a roll really.
The sat by their fire, her in his white shirt and him in just his undershorts, and together, they toasted their bread with forks - This required them to keep switching hands, because of their close proximity to the flames.
When the bread seemed to be toasted, even blacked in a few spots, they sat opposite each other and fed the other bits of the toast until the entire roll was gone, despite neither of them being even the slightest bit hungry.
After that, they watched the fire, and occasionally watched each other; but neither of them said a word. Maybe they should have, but they didn't. As the coals began to die, Katniss curled up on the hearth, and lay her head in Peeta's lap. He stroked her hair absent-mindedly until her breathing slowed, and it became obvious that she was asleep.
Peeta used a fork to stir the last of the coals out, and picked Katniss up to carry her to bed. As he lay her down and tucked her in, he glanced out the window and took notice of the white flakes in the air. He had almost forgotten that it was still winter in 12.
He took his place beside Katniss in the bed and, as he wrapped his arms around her for what might be the last time until they wed in the Capitol, he realized that returning to life in District 12 after becoming Katniss's husband might feel more like playing pretend than ever.