October 22, 2011
12:47am

Peeta's arm was under my neck, his other hand held onto my hip loosely as some movie played on the television but we were ignoring it—as usual when we were together, supposedly watching movies and eating fast food. But we always ended up talking, sometimes about nonsense, sometimes about memories and all the good times we had as kids and teens. How we managed to fuck up some parts of our lives and the hardest things we had to go through. You name it and we've probably already had a conversation about it and no matter what topic there was no ending.

"What about you?" Peeta asks and I snort—he thinks it's adorable but I beg to differ—still giggling at his horrid first kiss story he'd just told.

"Your braces got caught? And then y-you had to get your parents involved?" I laughed, my abdomen was probably getting rock-hard abs from this but I couldn't stop it.

When the laughing was all done I was staring at his unamused face so as a result of the expression I just had to pepper kisses onto his nose and cheeks.

Eventually we were off to talking about our parents, for the first time. It was an uneasy topic but we got around to talking about his mother. In the beginning he explained she was sweet, loving and kind. Then he grew up and she grew bitter. Rosalyn Mellark sounded like an old witch in my opinion but she divorced his father when Peeta was fifteen and they never spoke again, which I was happy for secretly.

"What about you?" Peeta asks, my eyes looking from his jaw to his eyes in a slow manner. Talking about my parents was never easy, but I always managed to conjure up some audacity to speak about them.

"My father died, and my mom is a nurse who's away from home nearly 15 hours a day, six days a week. Sundays are when we get to see her—Prim and I—but I hardly ever go by to visit anymore."

"Why's that?" Now his brows are rising, a curious tone singing about in his vocals.

Biting my bottom lip is how I answer at first, the corners of my lips pulling down as I shrug a shoulder to hint that I don't really know why.

"There's got to be a reason, Kat."

"I-I guess I just never really got along with my mom like I had with my father. She's emotionally unstable, sort of, since my father had passed." It all flowed out easily, and he didn't show anything but pure interest and even some sort of sorrow for my sob story when I explained that my mother wasn't much of a mother once my father died. She'd become distant at first, and that a family friend was basically caring for us.

"That had to be tough," he says and kisses my forehead. For a split second I welcome his words, but throw them back at him when I feel like I'm being pitied.

"I took care of myself, and my sister, good enough." That was my defence. Peeta shakes his head, understanding my demeanour now.

"Katniss, I'm not giving you sympathy or trying to force comfort. I'm just trying to tell you that I comprehend how hard you had it growing up. It's truly inspiring how you're still standing right now, going for what you want and how you hold yourself up—" I shut him up by kissing him. The way he spoke about me sent me shivers, but also created a great annoyance of false happiness and I had to end it. Clearly he did not think that of me.

When I pull away, licking my lips before I give him a shy smirk.

"I'd like to meet her." Peeta says and I'm confused. "I'd like to meet your mom."

Sorry it's taken me so long. I've just lost my muse for it all. But I've realized why leave it unfinished? Right?

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