the next will never come (part 8/?, 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 8 of ?
My body reacts as it did the day before, when I saw Peeta’s cake: heart racing, mouth dry, face growing hot. Fight or flight is kicking in, but now there’s nowhere to run.
When Gale claimed Peeta had a crush on me, it was easy to write it off as jealousy, but this is Peeta’s brother. He’s known Peeta for his entire life. They spend all day, every day together in the bakery kitchen. Do they talk about me? The thought hits me like a punch in the gut.
Brody’s quiet, and I realize he’s waiting for a response. “Oh” is all I can muster.
“Yeah…you really didn’t know?”
“I sort of guessed,” I admit quietly, though what I really mean is my best friend guessed and I promptly expelled it from my mind. Brody smiles crookedly, but there’s a sadness in his eyes, too.
“He can be a little obvious,” he agrees. “I mean, that squirrel thing he made. I told him not to do it, but he insisted.”
“Ha, yeah,” I respond, clearing my throat. I'm an idiot.
Brody shakes his head. “Just - let him down easy, okay?” He claps me on the shoulder, then hoists himself back onto his feet. “Good talk, Katniss.”
---
Peeta likes me. I mull over the words in my head. He likes me. He likes me.
Brody and Peeta leave me alone for the rest of the afternoon, but try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about what Brody said. The fake squirrel cake is still in the window, and every time someone stops outside to admire the handiwork - which is often - I feel like it’s mocking me. How clueless can I be? Even Peeta Mellark wouldn’t waste that much effort decorating a cake for someone he only likes as a friend.
I try to picture myself and Peeta as a couple, but I just…can’t. It’s too strange. He’s blond hair, blue eyes, big smile; I’m Seam through and through, from my permanent scowl down to my tattered shoes. It’s much easier to see myself and Gale: gray eyes, black hair, olive skin. Hunter’s instincts. A matched pair.
The truth is, if I’m ever with another person in that way - holding hands, kissing, touching - it will be with Gale. More and more I’m realizing that it’s inevitable. In practically every way, it makes sense. We already care for one another’s families, almost like they’re our own. In the woods we’re totally in sync, anticipating each other’s movements before they even happen. We trust one another.
And I do love him, in my way; maybe not the way he wants, but maybe that’s for the best. I’ll never end up like my mother and Prim if I’m never in as deep as they were. As they are.
I leave the bakery as soon as the clock strikes three, and I’m halfway down the street before I hear heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me. “Katniss, wait,” Peeta calls out, jogging slightly to catch up.
I pause, so nervous that my stomach feels like it’s literally fluttering. Peeta stops a few paces away, his cheeks flushed from the exertion of chasing after me.
Do you want to kiss me right now? I wonder, staring at his mouth. His lips are pink and slightly parted. Do you know that I know?
“Hey,” he says, taking a step closer. My instinct is to back away, but I force my feet to stay in place. I don’t want to let on that I’m aware of his crush.
“Hello.”
“I wanted to apologize,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, but keeping his eyes on mine. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. It just, it really surprised me when you said you remembered the bread. I hate to think that you spent all these years thinking I expected something in return from you.”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. There’s a new tension in the air between us, but I can’t tell if I’m the only one feeling it. Did Brody tell him? Probably not; he did say Peeta would kill him, after all. As far as Peeta knows, I’m still just feeling awkward about our argument.
“It’s not okay,” he insists. He edges slightly closer, and my breath catches in my throat. “I should’ve said something.” He lets out a long breath. “To be honest, I’ve thought about that day so -“
“Peeta.” I stop him before he can finish the thought. “Really, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I take things the wrong way sometimes.”
Peeta stares at me for the longest moment, and finally nods. “Alright.” He shrugs. “I just wanted you to know.”
“I do,” I assure him. “Thank you.”
“Sure.” He hesitates, like he doesn’t want to leave quite yet. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you.” I turn and start to walk away before he can drag this out any further.
Without knowing why, I glance over my shoulder after a few paces. He’s looking back at me, too. He lifts his hand in a half-wave. My fingers twitch to wave back, but I just keep on walking.
---
Prim shocks me that evening at dinner, when she announces that she wants to go watch the Games in the town square.
Every night when the sun sets, they project the Games up on a giant screen on the stage where the Reaping takes place. Whoever’s in charge of the Games tends to save the action for these primetime hours; this is when they’re most likely to set a pack of muttations after the tributes, or flood the arena. It’s also the time when you get the most running commentary from Claudius Templesmith.
Attendance isn’t required, but it’s encouraged, since the Peacekeepers know you’re watching if you’re in the square. Once you’re there, you can’t leave until it’s over, three hours later.
Some people draw comfort from watching the Games as a community, but I’ve never been one of them. My family goes once or twice per year, just to keep up appearances for the Peacekeepers, but most nights we watch in the privacy of our own home, or at the Hawthornes’.
Normally I’d discourage Prim from going, but it’s the first time she’s expressed interest in leaving the house in over a week. “Okay,” I say uncertainly, glancing at my mother. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Prim says. “I’m going to go get ready.” She gets up from the table, leaving a half-eaten bowl of soup behind. At least her appetite’s improving - most nights she’s forced down just a few bites of food before returning to her spot on the couch.
“Do you know why she wants to go?” I whisper to Mother once Prim’s out of earshot.
She smiles sadly. “I think she’s just getting ready to accept that life keeps moving on.”
I wonder if she overheard me say something similar to Prim a few days ago. I wonder if she realizes how ironic the statement is, coming from her, and if it makes her feel guilty for what she did to us when my father died. But I don’t comment on it; I just scrape the last few vegetables out of my bowl and carry it over to the sink with Prim’s. “I’m going to go see if the Hawthornes want to come,” I tell her, rinsing out the dishes. “More friendly faces might make it easier for her.”
“That’s a good idea,” she says, joining me at the sink. I accept her bowl silently and run it under the water flowing from the tap. “You haven’t been seeing as much of Gale since you started that job.”
“No,” I agree, avoiding her eyes. I don’t like talking about Gale with my mother.
“How is Peeta doing? Do you work with him a lot?”
Correction: I don’t like talking about any boy with my mother.
“He’s fine,” I say vaguely. “We don’t really work together. I don’t know.” That’s not technically true, now that I’m helping out with the baking more, but there’s no reason for her to know that. It’ll just set her down a new path of prying questions that she has little right to ask.
“That’s too bad,” she says, taking the clean bowl back from me to dry. “He seems like a nice boy.”
I frown. Does she know about Peeta’s crush? Am I literally the only person who didn’t see this coming? “Sure,” I say shortly. “So, I’m heading over to the Hawthornes’ now - I’ll meet you and Prim there?”
She nods, reaching up to place the bowl back on the shelf that hangs over our sink. “We’ll see you there.”
---
Vick looks surprised to see me when he answers the door. “Hey Katniss.” He steps back to let me in. “Gale! Katniss is here.”
Gale appears from his bedroom almost instantly, buttoning up his shirt. His hair is damp - he must be fresh out of the bath. “Catnip,” he greets me. “What are you doing here?”
“Prim and my mother and I are all going to watch in the square tonight,” I tell him. “I thought it might be nice if you all came, too.”
“For Prim.” Gale nods, understanding immediately. “Yeah, why not. Mom took Posy with her to deliver some laundry, but we’ll go with you. Think you can keep it in your pants around all those town girls, Vick?”
Vick shoots him a murderous glare. “Fuck you.”
I struggle not to laugh as Vick stalks off into the bedroom. Gale just rolls his eyes. “You’d think he’d be more grateful to the brother who’s working his ass off so he doesn’t get turned into the Peacekeepers!” he calls over his shoulder.
“Fuck you!” Vick’s voice carries out from the other room.
Gale shrugs. “Teenagers.”
I punch him lightly in the arm. “I’m still a teenager.”
“Yeah, exactly.” I laugh, and Gale grins, tugging once on my braid.
Gale, Vick and Rory pull themselves together quickly and we head out for the square. The boys rib each other all the way into town, shoving, teasing, laughing. They’re different from Peeta and Brody, I realize. They’re closer. The Mellarks obviously care for one another - Brody had said as much to me this morning - but there’s a distance there. I haven’t even seen the oldest brother since I started working at the bakery, now that I think of it.
About halfway there Gale steps away from his brothers, hanging back to walk beside me. We walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until his hand brushes lightly against mine. I don’t react, but I can feel him glancing at me. Then his fingers curl around mine more firmly. Suddenly, we’re holding hands.
Every other time this has happened, I’ve pulled away, playing with my hair or scratching the back of my neck. But tonight I let our fingers entwine. His hand is rough and dry, and much bigger than mine. Unbidden, I think of Peeta’s hands, the little white scars littered across his skin.
We don’t speak, but once the crowd in the square enters our view our hands fall away to our sides. I sneak a glance at Gale; he’s looking straight ahead, but his lips are curved up into the slightest smile. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but it strengthens my resolve for what I’m planning to do tonight.
Prim and Mother are waiting for us by the back edge of the crowd. Prim’s still pale and skinny, of course, but her hair is shiny and neat, pulled back in a blue ribbon that matches her eyes. Her shirt is neatly tucked into her pants, which look like they’ve been ironed. It’s the best she’s looked since Reaping Day.
The boys exchange hellos with my mother and Prim, but Prim’s focused on me. She needs me, I realize. “You ready?” I ask her quietly. I reach my hand out for hers, unsure if she’ll take it. She hasn’t let me hold her hand in public in over a year.
Her fingers are cold against mine, but her grip is almost painfully tight. “I’m ready,” she says, and we step together into the crowd.
Hello friends - thank you so, so much for your reviews! I love you all! :)
I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading it. Relationships are slowly starting to change...