the next will never come (part 4/?, hunger games, r)
the next will never come
"It means I'm done. It means I'm free. It means I'll live."
katniss/peeta, katniss/gale, au, r. katniss makes it through her final reaping. part 4 of ?
The room is silent and still. I’m almost certain time has actually stopped when Prim bolts up from her seat and strides out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Her name is Primrose, and she’s perfect. She can’t mean Primrose Everdeen. She can’t mean my sister. But as far as I know she’s the only the Primrose in District 12. Maybe the only Primrose in all of Panem.
But as soon as the shock begins to ebb away, understanding settles in its place. This is why Prim has hardly eaten all week, why she sleeps all day, why she snaps at me when I ask her a simple question. It’s because she’s in love.
And the girl she loves is going to die.
My mother’s face has drained of color, and I know without any doubt that she is thinking of my father right now. He wasn’t a victim of the Games, but in the end he was a victim of the Capitol, just like Astrid will be. Just like we all will be, in the end.
Gale’s mother Hazelle reaches over and rests a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t react, just stares straight ahead at the screen with glassy eyes. Vick and Rory look uncomfortable, and little Posy is still asleep, her head resting in Vick’s lap.
I stand. Mother may understand what Prim’s going through better than I ever could, but she’s not the one who could comfort her. “I’ll go find her,” I announce, the words sounding strangely loud as they leave my mouth. Gale moves like he intends to join me, but I shake my head.
With a last glance at my mother, I slip out into the night.
---
It’s quiet and dark outside, and I do my best to slip silently through the empty Seam. There will be at least thirty minutes more of commenter analysis and audience reactions on the interviews before we’re permitted to shut off our televisions. When the Capitol decrees something mandatory, they’re not kidding around - there are Peacekeepers out on these streets with me, and I’ll be lucky if we don’t cross paths.
The commentary tonight is sure to be a doozy. Every few years there’s a tribute who admits their love for a classmate or neighbor or friend on stage with Caesar. But Astrid is the first to admit her love for another girl.
If their silly reality shows are any indication, no one in the Capitol thinks twice about same-sex couplings - but a tribute from the districts is another story. Maybe it’s different in the other districts, but in District 12, it’s considered…impractical. It’s something only people in the Capitol can afford to do, like dying their skin blue or getting gemstones implanted on your face.
In District 12, the law dictates that houses can only be assigned to a man and a woman who have registered to marry at the Justice Building. Nearly every family needs a child or two for extra hands to help run a business or earn money for food. It may not be right, but that’s how it works.
My instincts lead me back towards our house, and I’m correct. Prim’s curled up in our bed, sobbing, her mangy cat Buttercup stretched out on the blanket beside her. She’s never been one to stray far from home.
“Oh, Prim,” I murmur softly, lying down behind her and wrapping my arm around her middle. She cries harder.
I don’t know what to say. Prim drew the short stick when it came to older sisters - I could teach her how to run and hunt and swim, but not how to make friends, or flirt, or cope when your girlfriend is sent into the Hunger Games to die.
“Shhh,” I whisper, stroking her fine blonde hair. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
We lay together for what feels like hours. Prim’s shuddering sobs give way to hiccups, then quiet, even breaths as she falls asleep. Eventually I hear the low creak of our front door opening, and my mother’s soft footsteps. She pauses in the doorway to our bedroom and meets my eyes in the dark.
We watch each other for a long, silent moment, and then she steps away, shutting her own bedroom door behind her with a click.
---
When I wake up the next morning, I’m already an hour late for my job at the bakery.
Prim is still fast asleep beside me, her dainty feet poking out from underneath the blanket. I don’t want her to wake up alone today, but I can’t miss my third day of work. I climb out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and slip into my shoes before heading outside in the same clothes I’d fallen asleep in.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp as I barge through the bakery’s back entrance, winded from my sprint through town. Peeta’s head snaps up from behind an oven. I lean against a countertop dusted with flour, sucking in deep breaths of air, trying to ignore the fact that I’m probably dripping with sweat.
“Katniss.” Peeta stands all the way up, wiping his hands on the front of his pants. “What are you -“
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, finally catching my breath. “I know that I can’t be late, and I swear it won’t happen again. Please, don’t fire me. I need this job.”
Peeta blinks. “I’m not going to fire you,” he says. “My dad’s the only one who could do that. And we’re not open today. It’s the first day of the Games, remember?”
It hits me suddenly - the bakery isn’t hot and humming with electricity like it would be on any other day. Peeta’s alone, cleaning out an oven. Because it’s the first day of the Games, and -
“Oh my god,” I choke out, bending at the waist. I feel dizzy. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. “Prim - I have to get home, I can’t let her watch it alone -“
“Whoa, slow down.” Peeta is at my side in an instant, laying a warm hand on my shoulder. “Breathe. It’s okay.”
I shake my head wildly. “I have to be with her.” Before I can pull open the door, Peeta grabs my wrist firmly. I look at him in surprise.
“You can’t go out there. There are Peacekeepers out there,” he says calmly. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught on your way here.” He drops my wrist and I pull back, rubbing it with my other hand. “Look, you can watch the opening here, and then head home as soon as it’s over. They don’t patrol after the first hour.”
Every bone in my body aches to run home, to wrap my arms around Prim and protect her from whatever’s coming - but Peeta’s right. If I try to sneak around during the Games in broad daylight, I’ll almost certainly be caught. It’s been so long since someone flouted the mandatory viewing requirements that I’m not even sure what they’d do to me, but I’m sure it would be more than a mere slap on the wrist. “Okay,” I agree shakily. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
He eyes my shirt, and I look down - the fabric sticks to my skin, dark with sweat. “D’you want to…take a shower, or something?” he asks hesitantly. “Upstairs?”
I’m almost tempted. We don’t have a shower at home, just a bath that we fill with water heated on the stove. The few opportunities I’ve had to take a real shower were wonderful - there’s something incredibly soothing about the steam and the hot water flowing over your shoulders and down your back.
But it would be too strange, using the Mellark’s shower. We’re not even friends - I’m just his classmate, now employee. “No, I’m fine.”
“How about I get you a new shirt?” he offers. “Wait here.” Before I can refuse, he’s slipped through another door that must lead to his family’s living quarters. I hear the faint thud of his footsteps running up the stairs to the second story.
The bakery is quiet without him, and as I wait it strikes me how strange it is that I’m here at all. I’d spoken once, maybe twice to Peeta Mellark before our last Reaping Day. Our lives just didn’t overlap…except for that one night, when he gave me the burnt bread. Now I’ll be seeing him practically every day.
Peeta returns a few minutes later with a faded blue t-shirt. “I thought this would fit you. Sorry it’s kind of old.” I shrug. All of my clothes are old.
I don’t really look at the shirt until I’m in the bathroom to change. It’s an old wrestling team shirt, I realize, MELLARK printed in block letters across the back. Peeta and his brothers were the best wrestlers in school, and I remember often seeing him head into the gym at the end of the day as I waited for Prim in the hallway. I wonder if he misses it.
Peeta smiles at me when I return from changing in the bathroom. “I was right. Fits perfectly.”
I glance down at myself again, feeling self-conscious. “Yeah. Thank you. For the shirt,” I add hastily.
“No problem.” He drums his fingertips on the countertop, and I get the sense that he’s weighing his words carefully. “So, you’re welcome to watch upstairs with my family. But we have another tv down here if you want more privacy.” He flushes slightly, aware of how extravagant owning two televisions must sound. “Cray said we have to have another one, so we can watch while we run the bakery.”
It’s an easy choice. “I’ll stay down here,” I say quietly, and he nods, walking across the kitchen to the back where a television sits on one of the metal countertops. Peeta pulls a folding chair from the corner and sets it down in front. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I’m reminded of just last week, when he did the same thing after I turned down his invitation to Delly’s party.
“Well, I’ll be upstairs if -“
I interrupt him. “You can stay.”
I don’t know how to say this to him, but I don’t want to be alone right now. And there is something about Peeta’s presence - solid, kind Peeta - that is reassuring, calming, to me.
He looks surprised, but pleased, and he grabs another folding chair from the corner, settling into it beside me. He leans forward to switch on the television set, and as it flickers to life another pair of feet thuds down the stairs behind us.
Brody looks agitated, leaning through the doorway into the kitchen. “How long’s it take you to clean a goddamn oven, Peet? Oh.” His eyes widen when he sees me, just for a second, but he tries to play it cool. “Hey Katniss. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“She forgot we were closed today,” Peeta jumps in, glancing at me. “We’re just going to watch the opening down here until she can go home.”
“Right.” Brody’s mouth twitches as if holding back a smile. He holds Peeta’s gaze for a long, strange moment - too long. I can’t pinpoint why, but I start to feel uncomfortable. Finally Brody shrugs and moves his eyes to me, smiling. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” He darts back through the doors and up the stairs before I can even react.
“Sorry, he’s a pain sometimes,” Peeta mumbles, turning back to the tv.
“No, he’s fine,” I say softly, and we let the dim glow of the tv screen wash over us as the Games begin.
---
The bloodbath at the Cornucopia is particularly vicious this year. I turn my head away as the camera closes in on a girl from District 4, hacking savagely at a boy from 9 with a long knife she found in the Cornucopia’s core. Peeta’s eyes are trained on the ground, his hands clenched in fists in his lap. It makes me feel better to see that I’m not the only one affected like this.
Once the scene at the Cornucopia calms down, the screen switches to various camera points throughout the arena, tracking the remaining tributes as they flee downhill. It looks like this year they’re on a mountain, the Cornucopia situated all the way at the top, far above the relative safety of the tree line.
I’m not sure how many tributes made it out of the bloodbath - fourteen or fifteen, I’d guess - but I slump with relief once the cameras confirm that Astrid is one of them. She must have run for the forest immediately, because she’s deep within it now, while others are just reaching the point where a few scraggly trees have eked out a spot high on the mountain slope.
As the camera follows Astrid’s haphazard path through the woods, Peeta’s voice breaks the television’s spell over us.
“Did you know your sister liked girls?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. His eyes are sympathetic.
“How do you know she likes girls?” I ask suspiciously. Astrid said last night that she liked Prim, but as far as the rest of the country knows, Prim’s feelings are unconfirmed.
He looks at me funny, like it’s a trick question. “Well - Astrid said in the interview last night that her and Prim were dating.”
Of course - Astrid’s interview hadn’t ended just because I stopped paying attention. I wonder what else she said. I wonder what else I don’t know about my little sister.
“Oh. Right.” I shrug. “No. I didn’t really think about her liking boys or girls. She never showed any interest in either.” Not that I would have noticed. I didn’t realize Gale liked me until he flat-out told me.
“Does it bother you?”
“Why, does it bother you?” I shoot back.
“No, not at all,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I was just asking. Some people around here are pretty…traditional.”
I look back at the screen, which has switched back to a group of Careers picking through the spoils in the Cornucopia. “No, it doesn’t bother me.” The boy from 1 picks up a sledgehammer and twirls it through the air like a baton. “It’s just…not practical.”
Peeta laughs softly. “Love’s not practical, Katniss.”
That’s rich, coming from Peeta Mellark. I’m sure I’ve seen him with at least two or three different girls on his arm in the hallway at school, and they were all pretty and blonde, perfect matches for a Merchant boy whose family owns the town’s only bakery.
“No, it’s not,” I say. “Which is why we should stop acting like it’s the be-all-end-all and focus on the things that matter.”
Peeta is quiet, and I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to turn my head and meet them. “That’s an awfully cynical way to think about it,” he says, sounding almost sad.
“I think I can go home now.” I change the subject abruptly. “They’re starting the recaps.” Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith are onscreen now, jovially examining the Games’ first few deaths in sickening, slow-motion detail.
“Oh - okay.” Peeta twists in his seat to watch me as I head for the exit. “We’re open normal time tomorrow.”
“I know.” I pause by the door. “Thanks for letting me watch it here, Peeta.”
“Anytime.” I’m not positive, but I think I hear him sigh as I step into the hot summer sunshine.
Hey all - thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! I really appreciate them and I'm so happy that people are enjoying the story. Apologies for being a bit late on this update, I've just been a little busy lately. Hope you like this chapter! :)
"It means I'm done. It means I'm free. It means I'll live."
katniss/peeta, katniss/gale, au, r. katniss makes it through her final reaping. part 4 of ?
The room is silent and still. I’m almost certain time has actually stopped when Prim bolts up from her seat and strides out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Her name is Primrose, and she’s perfect. She can’t mean Primrose Everdeen. She can’t mean my sister. But as far as I know she’s the only the Primrose in District 12. Maybe the only Primrose in all of Panem.
But as soon as the shock begins to ebb away, understanding settles in its place. This is why Prim has hardly eaten all week, why she sleeps all day, why she snaps at me when I ask her a simple question. It’s because she’s in love.
And the girl she loves is going to die.
My mother’s face has drained of color, and I know without any doubt that she is thinking of my father right now. He wasn’t a victim of the Games, but in the end he was a victim of the Capitol, just like Astrid will be. Just like we all will be, in the end.
Gale’s mother Hazelle reaches over and rests a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t react, just stares straight ahead at the screen with glassy eyes. Vick and Rory look uncomfortable, and little Posy is still asleep, her head resting in Vick’s lap.
I stand. Mother may understand what Prim’s going through better than I ever could, but she’s not the one who could comfort her. “I’ll go find her,” I announce, the words sounding strangely loud as they leave my mouth. Gale moves like he intends to join me, but I shake my head.
With a last glance at my mother, I slip out into the night.
---
It’s quiet and dark outside, and I do my best to slip silently through the empty Seam. There will be at least thirty minutes more of commenter analysis and audience reactions on the interviews before we’re permitted to shut off our televisions. When the Capitol decrees something mandatory, they’re not kidding around - there are Peacekeepers out on these streets with me, and I’ll be lucky if we don’t cross paths.
The commentary tonight is sure to be a doozy. Every few years there’s a tribute who admits their love for a classmate or neighbor or friend on stage with Caesar. But Astrid is the first to admit her love for another girl.
If their silly reality shows are any indication, no one in the Capitol thinks twice about same-sex couplings - but a tribute from the districts is another story. Maybe it’s different in the other districts, but in District 12, it’s considered…impractical. It’s something only people in the Capitol can afford to do, like dying their skin blue or getting gemstones implanted on your face.
In District 12, the law dictates that houses can only be assigned to a man and a woman who have registered to marry at the Justice Building. Nearly every family needs a child or two for extra hands to help run a business or earn money for food. It may not be right, but that’s how it works.
My instincts lead me back towards our house, and I’m correct. Prim’s curled up in our bed, sobbing, her mangy cat Buttercup stretched out on the blanket beside her. She’s never been one to stray far from home.
“Oh, Prim,” I murmur softly, lying down behind her and wrapping my arm around her middle. She cries harder.
I don’t know what to say. Prim drew the short stick when it came to older sisters - I could teach her how to run and hunt and swim, but not how to make friends, or flirt, or cope when your girlfriend is sent into the Hunger Games to die.
“Shhh,” I whisper, stroking her fine blonde hair. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
We lay together for what feels like hours. Prim’s shuddering sobs give way to hiccups, then quiet, even breaths as she falls asleep. Eventually I hear the low creak of our front door opening, and my mother’s soft footsteps. She pauses in the doorway to our bedroom and meets my eyes in the dark.
We watch each other for a long, silent moment, and then she steps away, shutting her own bedroom door behind her with a click.
---
When I wake up the next morning, I’m already an hour late for my job at the bakery.
Prim is still fast asleep beside me, her dainty feet poking out from underneath the blanket. I don’t want her to wake up alone today, but I can’t miss my third day of work. I climb out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and slip into my shoes before heading outside in the same clothes I’d fallen asleep in.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp as I barge through the bakery’s back entrance, winded from my sprint through town. Peeta’s head snaps up from behind an oven. I lean against a countertop dusted with flour, sucking in deep breaths of air, trying to ignore the fact that I’m probably dripping with sweat.
“Katniss.” Peeta stands all the way up, wiping his hands on the front of his pants. “What are you -“
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, finally catching my breath. “I know that I can’t be late, and I swear it won’t happen again. Please, don’t fire me. I need this job.”
Peeta blinks. “I’m not going to fire you,” he says. “My dad’s the only one who could do that. And we’re not open today. It’s the first day of the Games, remember?”
It hits me suddenly - the bakery isn’t hot and humming with electricity like it would be on any other day. Peeta’s alone, cleaning out an oven. Because it’s the first day of the Games, and -
“Oh my god,” I choke out, bending at the waist. I feel dizzy. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. “Prim - I have to get home, I can’t let her watch it alone -“
“Whoa, slow down.” Peeta is at my side in an instant, laying a warm hand on my shoulder. “Breathe. It’s okay.”
I shake my head wildly. “I have to be with her.” Before I can pull open the door, Peeta grabs my wrist firmly. I look at him in surprise.
“You can’t go out there. There are Peacekeepers out there,” he says calmly. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught on your way here.” He drops my wrist and I pull back, rubbing it with my other hand. “Look, you can watch the opening here, and then head home as soon as it’s over. They don’t patrol after the first hour.”
Every bone in my body aches to run home, to wrap my arms around Prim and protect her from whatever’s coming - but Peeta’s right. If I try to sneak around during the Games in broad daylight, I’ll almost certainly be caught. It’s been so long since someone flouted the mandatory viewing requirements that I’m not even sure what they’d do to me, but I’m sure it would be more than a mere slap on the wrist. “Okay,” I agree shakily. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
He eyes my shirt, and I look down - the fabric sticks to my skin, dark with sweat. “D’you want to…take a shower, or something?” he asks hesitantly. “Upstairs?”
I’m almost tempted. We don’t have a shower at home, just a bath that we fill with water heated on the stove. The few opportunities I’ve had to take a real shower were wonderful - there’s something incredibly soothing about the steam and the hot water flowing over your shoulders and down your back.
But it would be too strange, using the Mellark’s shower. We’re not even friends - I’m just his classmate, now employee. “No, I’m fine.”
“How about I get you a new shirt?” he offers. “Wait here.” Before I can refuse, he’s slipped through another door that must lead to his family’s living quarters. I hear the faint thud of his footsteps running up the stairs to the second story.
The bakery is quiet without him, and as I wait it strikes me how strange it is that I’m here at all. I’d spoken once, maybe twice to Peeta Mellark before our last Reaping Day. Our lives just didn’t overlap…except for that one night, when he gave me the burnt bread. Now I’ll be seeing him practically every day.
Peeta returns a few minutes later with a faded blue t-shirt. “I thought this would fit you. Sorry it’s kind of old.” I shrug. All of my clothes are old.
I don’t really look at the shirt until I’m in the bathroom to change. It’s an old wrestling team shirt, I realize, MELLARK printed in block letters across the back. Peeta and his brothers were the best wrestlers in school, and I remember often seeing him head into the gym at the end of the day as I waited for Prim in the hallway. I wonder if he misses it.
Peeta smiles at me when I return from changing in the bathroom. “I was right. Fits perfectly.”
I glance down at myself again, feeling self-conscious. “Yeah. Thank you. For the shirt,” I add hastily.
“No problem.” He drums his fingertips on the countertop, and I get the sense that he’s weighing his words carefully. “So, you’re welcome to watch upstairs with my family. But we have another tv down here if you want more privacy.” He flushes slightly, aware of how extravagant owning two televisions must sound. “Cray said we have to have another one, so we can watch while we run the bakery.”
It’s an easy choice. “I’ll stay down here,” I say quietly, and he nods, walking across the kitchen to the back where a television sits on one of the metal countertops. Peeta pulls a folding chair from the corner and sets it down in front. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I’m reminded of just last week, when he did the same thing after I turned down his invitation to Delly’s party.
“Well, I’ll be upstairs if -“
I interrupt him. “You can stay.”
I don’t know how to say this to him, but I don’t want to be alone right now. And there is something about Peeta’s presence - solid, kind Peeta - that is reassuring, calming, to me.
He looks surprised, but pleased, and he grabs another folding chair from the corner, settling into it beside me. He leans forward to switch on the television set, and as it flickers to life another pair of feet thuds down the stairs behind us.
Brody looks agitated, leaning through the doorway into the kitchen. “How long’s it take you to clean a goddamn oven, Peet? Oh.” His eyes widen when he sees me, just for a second, but he tries to play it cool. “Hey Katniss. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“She forgot we were closed today,” Peeta jumps in, glancing at me. “We’re just going to watch the opening down here until she can go home.”
“Right.” Brody’s mouth twitches as if holding back a smile. He holds Peeta’s gaze for a long, strange moment - too long. I can’t pinpoint why, but I start to feel uncomfortable. Finally Brody shrugs and moves his eyes to me, smiling. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” He darts back through the doors and up the stairs before I can even react.
“Sorry, he’s a pain sometimes,” Peeta mumbles, turning back to the tv.
“No, he’s fine,” I say softly, and we let the dim glow of the tv screen wash over us as the Games begin.
---
The bloodbath at the Cornucopia is particularly vicious this year. I turn my head away as the camera closes in on a girl from District 4, hacking savagely at a boy from 9 with a long knife she found in the Cornucopia’s core. Peeta’s eyes are trained on the ground, his hands clenched in fists in his lap. It makes me feel better to see that I’m not the only one affected like this.
Once the scene at the Cornucopia calms down, the screen switches to various camera points throughout the arena, tracking the remaining tributes as they flee downhill. It looks like this year they’re on a mountain, the Cornucopia situated all the way at the top, far above the relative safety of the tree line.
I’m not sure how many tributes made it out of the bloodbath - fourteen or fifteen, I’d guess - but I slump with relief once the cameras confirm that Astrid is one of them. She must have run for the forest immediately, because she’s deep within it now, while others are just reaching the point where a few scraggly trees have eked out a spot high on the mountain slope.
As the camera follows Astrid’s haphazard path through the woods, Peeta’s voice breaks the television’s spell over us.
“Did you know your sister liked girls?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. His eyes are sympathetic.
“How do you know she likes girls?” I ask suspiciously. Astrid said last night that she liked Prim, but as far as the rest of the country knows, Prim’s feelings are unconfirmed.
He looks at me funny, like it’s a trick question. “Well - Astrid said in the interview last night that her and Prim were dating.”
Of course - Astrid’s interview hadn’t ended just because I stopped paying attention. I wonder what else she said. I wonder what else I don’t know about my little sister.
“Oh. Right.” I shrug. “No. I didn’t really think about her liking boys or girls. She never showed any interest in either.” Not that I would have noticed. I didn’t realize Gale liked me until he flat-out told me.
“Does it bother you?”
“Why, does it bother you?” I shoot back.
“No, not at all,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I was just asking. Some people around here are pretty…traditional.”
I look back at the screen, which has switched back to a group of Careers picking through the spoils in the Cornucopia. “No, it doesn’t bother me.” The boy from 1 picks up a sledgehammer and twirls it through the air like a baton. “It’s just…not practical.”
Peeta laughs softly. “Love’s not practical, Katniss.”
That’s rich, coming from Peeta Mellark. I’m sure I’ve seen him with at least two or three different girls on his arm in the hallway at school, and they were all pretty and blonde, perfect matches for a Merchant boy whose family owns the town’s only bakery.
“No, it’s not,” I say. “Which is why we should stop acting like it’s the be-all-end-all and focus on the things that matter.”
Peeta is quiet, and I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to turn my head and meet them. “That’s an awfully cynical way to think about it,” he says, sounding almost sad.
“I think I can go home now.” I change the subject abruptly. “They’re starting the recaps.” Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith are onscreen now, jovially examining the Games’ first few deaths in sickening, slow-motion detail.
“Oh - okay.” Peeta twists in his seat to watch me as I head for the exit. “We’re open normal time tomorrow.”
“I know.” I pause by the door. “Thanks for letting me watch it here, Peeta.”
“Anytime.” I’m not positive, but I think I hear him sigh as I step into the hot summer sunshine.
Hey all - thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! I really appreciate them and I'm so happy that people are enjoying the story. Apologies for being a bit late on this update, I've just been a little busy lately. Hope you like this chapter! :)