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twstbookclub · 1 year

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My Dearest, Trickster

Summary: One day, Rook started treating you differently. Maybe you didn’t see it before, but now? You have to face the consequences of your curiosity. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa 🦋 Tags: Romance, Oblivious MC, Rook Hunt is a Warning Himself, Poetry (because it's Rook), Minor ADeuce and Grim Shenanigans

Word count: 2,354

You're not sure when Rook began to treat you differently. It just happened one day, or at least you noticed that day.

"Oh, Rook!" You yelped at the sight of Rook hanging upside down from a tree branch. You saw the corners of his eyes crinkle at your surprise, though the smile never left his face.

"Please stop doing that. I swear, I'll get a heart attack if you keep this up."

"Ah, but mon cher, every expression you make always leaves me in awe of your beauty," he sighed dreamily, placing his hat over his heart. "Tout simplement merveilleux! I'm afraid I cannot stop myself even if I tried."

You felt the heat on your cheeks before you could process what he said. "Get down from there, or else I'll smack you."

"Your inability to accept compliments wounds me so." Rook shakes his head, nonetheless, complies to your request. "Yet, it is what makes you all the more charming."

Oh my god, I don't know if I can take any more of this.

You're no stranger to Rook's eccentricities, particularly his compliments. You knew he always told the truth. He's scarily observant. You knew this, because he pinpointed Leona's location every time you needed to find him for either Professor Trein or Crewel. Though this creeped you out, you decided to brush it off since Rook was harmless.

So far, at least. After all those overblots, you can't be too careful.

You exchanged a few more pleasantries with Rook before he bid you adieu. He strode towards the Mirror Chamber, while you made your way back to Ramshackle Dorm. Grim stayed with Ace and Deuce in the Mystery Shop to buy some tuna cans. You just hope he doesn't blow off your allowance just to satisfy his cravings. Your mind was so preoccupied with your meager budget, that it took you a while to remember what was missing from your conversation with Rook.

He didn't call you Trickster. He called you mon cher. Since when did it stop being my dearest Trickster?

Ever since that day, you kept a close eye on Rook. You still don't know what to think about all of the things you've noticed in the past few weeks.

"Mon cher, you're as beautiful as ever!" Rook called you when he spotted you in the cafeteria one day. The corners of his eyes always crinkled a bit more when he smiled at you. He approached you and jumped into conversation as if it was routine. Epel and Vil followed suit, but you couldn't acknowledge them with Rook taking all of your attention.

You missed the way Ace and Deuce exchanged glances. Ace rolled his eyes at Grim who paid no mind and devoured his grilled cheese sandwich. Epel stared at both of you with a horrified look while Vil shook his head with a faint, helpless sigh.

Rook's gestures seemed more animated when he talked to you. You caught him flailing his arms around more, and his fingers always seemed to ghost the sleeves of your uniform. He'd add in some more compliments, before he told stories of his time in the science club with Trey and the others.

"I implore you to witness the beauty of chemical reactions during club hours. Why, I could say the sparks and colorful smoke that fill the air can't compare to the vibrant glimmer of your eyes!"

He always found a reason to recite poems to you and kiss your knuckles, then he retreated like a sly fox awaiting his next prey. It didn't bother you before, but now that you've started to observe Rook more closely, it seems he always did that around you.

Specifically, he only did it to you.

"In the midst of winter's unforgiving isolation,

Longing for the warmth of the sun, your presence is my sole consolation.

Oh, to hold you in my arms is the sweetest bliss!

Very few men cannot wish for a greater reward than this.

Enamored in your embrace, melting into your touch is the greatest grace—akin to frost in the beginning of spring, yet it will sting.

You are my salvation in this frigid winter, for I am the unfortunate and irredeemable hunter.

One cannot compare to you, and none shall ever be.

Unattainable as you may be, I continue to long for your affection and beauty."

You honestly have no idea what Rook just said. His poem was so long that you didn't hear the rest of it while trying to wrestle Grim back beside you.

"Grim, stay put! You still have classes with me—Sorry, that's such a great poem, Rook! You're so good at poetry—GRIM, I SWEAR TO THE SEVEN, I'LL—!"

"Myah! I will, I will! So stop choking me with my bow!"

Rook simply thanked you with that same smile of his and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

Days after that, you sat at your usual table with your usual company: Ace, Deuce, and Grim. You've seen and noticed every little thing Rook did around you, but you just couldn't understand it all. You thought it was just, well, Rook being Rook.

Rook, the eccentric. Rook, who stalks NRC students in his free time. Rook, who somehow has an eye for exact measurements, habits, and tics. Rook, who shamelessly compliments everything and everyone in his pursuit of beauty, even in the middle of a dire situation. Rook, who is blunt and tactless to the extent of being offensive. Rook, who sought your company whenever he could. You thought he was just being nice in his own way. Now, you're not so sure anymore.

So, despite all of your doubts on Rook and the brain cells your friends share, you finally told them about what's been going on for the past few weeks.

Ace raised an eyebrow, "I know you're smarter than this, Prefect, but wow. I'm surprised you didn't see it."

"See what?" You asked, frustrated and a bit hysterical. You literally poured out your heart and soul to your lovably dumb friends just this once, and you get sass in return?

"Rook likes you," Deuce stated matter-of-factly. "It's pretty obvious. He's been flirting with you for a long time now. You didn't know?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have been asking," you groaned. “Romantically?”

“Romantically,” Ace and Deuce synchronized, which made them look at each other in disgust. The two Heartslabyul students began to bicker while Grim, still enjoying his lunch, egged them on for entertainment.

On the other hand, you’re not doing so hot. You buried your face in your hands, cold from the revelation. The cold was a stark contrast to the heat spreading from your cheeks to your ears. Rook liked you? He likes you?

No one liked you romantically before. You have no idea how anyone would act around the people they like. Then again, you focused so much on your interests that you developed tunnel vision. There’s also the fact that you were dropped into a different universe with no identification, money, or anything else other than the clothes on your back and the NRC ceremonial robe. Also, you had to deal with boys whose internalized trauma caused them to overblot. Dealing with all of that almost cost you your life. Of course, you wouldn’t even think of Rook looking at you with rose-tinted glasses when you had other things to worry about.

This conversation made you scramble for any memories of someone showing interest in you, and you blatantly ignored them because you were just that clueless. You don’t even know what to do with Rook’s feelings when you, yourself, don’t know how you feel about him.

Do you like him, or is it because you found out that he likes you that you’re wondering if you like him back? Have you always had feelings for him, or are you just considering him as a romantic partner now? How come you didn’t see it until someone had to spell it out for you?

"Hey! Paws off the tail, Ace!"

The moment Ace grabbed Grim’s tail with a sneer, you forgot about your confusing feelings for Rook to defuse the homicide that was about to happen in front of you.

The next day, you should’ve known better than to walk on the same path towards the main building. You didn’t want to face Rook’s feelings for you, yet. You didn’t want to know how you felt for the huntsman. You weren’t ready for any of this. You’re still trying to figure out how to deal with the possible overblot coming your way, and romance isn’t something you should think about.

So, why are you walking right into Rook’s trap?

“You’re as radiant as ever, mon cher.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Rook’s green irises. His smile, no different from the one he always gave you, didn’t reach his ears. You could see the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, which meant that he rushed here without putting his usual makeup on. His hand rested over his heart, but his hat never left its perch on his head. There was a certain quiet in his demeanor that bothered you. You don’t think you ever saw Rook like this before.

Knowing him, you guessed that Rook witnessed the moment Ace and Deuce told you about his feelings. The third year Pomefiore student always stalked the people he found interesting. You’re one of them, considering that he likes you to an extent. The world won’t even let you breathe and sit on your thoughts for just one day. What star were you born under to be this unlucky?

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you fidgeted in place. Rook’s eyes darted to the gesture, but with how narrowed his eyes were from his smile, you couldn’t tell if it actually happened. You might be hallucinating from the stress of it all. Who knows? Not even eight in the morning, and you’re already a mess.

“Good morning, Rook.” Your pathetic attempt at a greeting was met with another silent smile from the blond. The wind seemed colder to the touch, and the rustle of the trees echoed in your ears. The dirt under your feet looked more interesting right now, due to how awkward the situation was. Rook stayed still as if he wasn’t trying to scare any prey away, which meant you. He knew. You knew. So… what’s going to happen now?

“I won't deny that I harbor romantic feelings for you, Prefect.”

Your head shot up so fast, that anyone would think that you might have whiplash. Rook stood taller with a hand tipping his wide-brimmed hat to hide his eyes. If you’re not mistaken, his smile softened a little. You couldn’t even process anything more because the eccentric hunter continued talking to you.

“I have always been intrigued by the magicless individual who caught the attention of the entire student body. I watched you as closely as I could. I studied every habit and tic you possess. I know your routine by heart, which is no different from everyone else I've observed thus far. I didn't intend to fall in love with you as the days came to pass, but alas, I did.”

Rook paused, tilting his head to look at you. Under the brim of his hat, his lovelorn gaze pierced your heart. He knew. One look at you, and Rook knew you were conflicted. He could tell how you feel, but it’s so frustrating when you don’t know it yourself. Somehow, Rook’s dejection felt like a knife digging further into your heart.

“Your determination—the passionate fire in your eyes under dire circumstances—enchanted me. Your recklessness left me breathless, and my heart yearned for you more and more. You are as brave as you are beautiful, like a rose blooming in spring.

As I spent many days and nights admiring you from afar, I realized that you would never be able to return my affections. Mon cher, I cannot burden you further with this unrequited love of mine. I'm aware of your recent endeavors, and I offer you my assistance should you wish for it. If I can't stay beside you as a lover, then I desire to remain with you as a friend.”

A heavy weight settled in your stomach. The confession silenced your thoughts and seized your heart in a grip that threatened to puncture the poor thing. It was intense, passionate, and shamelessly honest. Yet, quiet and abrupt. Rook didn't want to scare you.

Mouth dry and throat sore, you didn’t know what possessed you to clutch Rook’s arm. You barely registered the shock on his face when you finally found the words to respond to his admission.

"You can't just tell me all of that, and expect me to keep quiet," your voice cracked at the end. The ache in your throat and the sting behind your eyes intensified as you continued, "When? When did you stop seeing me as the Trickster? When did you start calling me your dear? Rook, please."

Rook stared at you for what seemed like an eternity. He placed a hand over yours and said, "I don't know myself. What I can tell you is that my heart has never stopped beating for you since."

Your knees wobbled, and you felt like collapsing right where you stood. It's too much. Everything was too much. Rook was too much. Somehow, you wanted more of him, even if it left you gasping and begging for air.

"Maybe…" You sharply inhaled, trying not to choke on the weight of your feelings. "Maybe I could learn to love you."

The hands that brought you to Rook's chest, the warmth of his body against yours, and the tender touch of his forehead on your own were foreign, but you have never felt this safe since your arrival to Twisted Wonderland.

As his laugh and tears mingled with your warbled giggle, you decided that you can find sanctuary with Rook. Maybe, just maybe, you could love him after all.

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

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Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2) that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh*

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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everlark-your-own-adventure · 6 years

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Powder Keg - Ch 8

Merry Christmas everlarkers (or for those of you who don’t celebrate Christmas - Happy Monday!) Welcome back to the adventure we’re all everlarking together! Fallen behind in the story? Here are the previous chapters:

Chapter 1 /// Chapter 2 /// Chapter 3 /// Chapter 4 /// Chapter 5 /// Chapter 6 /// Chapter 7

Last week, our cinnamon bun and his huntress spend some cheese bun time rebuilding their friendship and the trust between them. But at the end of Katniss’s medical leave you, everlarkers, voted in the narrowest margin possible for her to keep her reemerging romantic feelings to herself. Quelle horreur!! What’s going to happen now? Are everlark doomed to dwell in the friendzone forever? To answer your questions (maybe), @xerxia31 takes the helm for this Yuletide chapter of Powder Keg. Grab your wassail and settle in for the continuation of our saga. And remember, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, December the 27th. Vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go…

When the alarm goes off, I’ve slept no more than three hours and all of them fitful. I tossed and turned nearly all night, my mind full of Peeta, frightened by how quickly all of the warm and curious feelings from three years ago have come back.

A hundred times in the dark, I decided I’d tell him how I feel. A hundred and one times, I talked myself out of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so conflicted. My life, or at least my life since my childhood was cut short, has been a straight line of survival, one single path with no deviations, each day moving forward, the only goal staying alive, and keeping Prim and my mom alive.

But my life is different now. My mother is working, and though it’s early, it seems like this one might stick. She seems more grounded, more present, and if not happy, at least content. Stable. And Prim has grown and flourished, turned into a wonderful, strong, independent young woman who doesn’t need me to protect her anymore. For the first time in my adult life, I have a little bit of space to think about my own needs. My own heart.

A pillow smacking me in the face, followed by a bout of girlish giggles, has me rethinking my assessment of my sister. “Come on, Katniss,” Prim laughs, climbing into bed with me. “It’s time to get up. Your ride will be here soon.” I roll my eyes at her inflection, she’s as subtle as a truck.

“I know,” I groan, but I snuggle up next to her anyway, enjoying the comfort of a quiet morning with my favourite person in the world. “What do you want for Christmas, Little Duck?” The big day is less than two weeks away; I haven’t done any shopping yet, too engrossed in working and, honestly, in Peeta.

“I want my sister to be happy,” she says, tugging on my bed-headed braid. I shake my head, but hug her hard. “And maybe a ticket to the Mockingjays concert?” she says into my collar, and I laugh.

o-o-o

The drive through sleepy, snowy Panem to the medical centre is quiet. Peeta showed up at my house just before noon, bearing cheese buns and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Part of me wonders if he’s as sad as I am about the impending end of our carpooling arrangement. But I’m too much of a coward to ask.

The doctor fits me with a brace to give my knee just a little extra support, then clears me to resume normal activity. It’s what I want, what I’ve wanted the past three weeks. But when I tell Peeta, who waited for me in the waiting room, I can’t even muster up a smile. Neither can he.

Back in his truck, Kelly Clarkson crooning her grown up Christmas wish through the crackly speakers, Peeta exhales loudly. “Since neither of us have to work today,” he says, “do you maybe want to test out that knee?”

My heart thumps wildly for five, ten, fifteen seconds before I clue in that he means go for a few runs down the ski hills. My stomach flops with the strangest mix of fear and anticipation to be back on my skis, and disappointment that Peeta didn’t have something else in mind. As if sensing my hesitation, he glances sideways at me. “You have to get back on the slopes as soon as possible, before the fear takes hold. Isn’t that what you told me once?”

I did tell him that, in what feels like another lifetime, when he was recovering from a badly twisted ankle. And he trusted me then, even though he was afraid. Trusted that I would be by his side, that I wouldn’t make him face it alone. “Yeah,” I say. “Okay, sure.” He smiles, just a little, then pilots his big truck up the highway, towards the lodge.

It’s still early when we arrive, there are a few people on the slopes, but not the crowd we’ll have later this afternoon. Peeta parks the truck, and scampers around to open my door before I can wave him off, even offering me a hand for the climb down. And while I don’t really need his help anymore, I take his hand, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his palm against my own.

My gear and his are still tucked into our respective lockers, we kit up quietly, then head out. Though I know I’m fine, can feel snug neoprene safeguarding my knee, I can’t help but be nervous. “Why don’t we start with Victory Tour,” Peeta says softly, nodding towards the green-level run that’s popular with recreational skiers. Its wide, lazy turns gently undulate down the mountain. It’s pretty, but not too challenging.

We share a chair, and I fidget as we begin our ascent, but Peeta grabs my gloved hand, and that simple act born of friendship and compassion calms me. I'm so glad to have him in my life again. As I clutch his hand tightly I realize that no matter what else I feel for Peeta, this is enough. Just having his friendship is enough.

Standing at the top, gazing out over the sparkling white valley below, it’s like being five years old again. Like the first time my dad stood me at the top of the bunny hill, the unknown spreading before me, infinite possibilities, if only I was brave enough to reach for them. And now I need to be brave again. “I’ll be with you the whole way,” Peeta says. With a deep breath, I plant my poles in the snow and push.

The first couple of turns are slow, tentative, as I get used to the feeling of moving again. But muscle memory kicks in fast, and before I know it, I’m flying down the mountain, laughing as loose snow peppers my face. Exhilarated. Alive.

I skid to a stop at the bottom, spraying snow in a graceful arc with my skis, still laughing as I pull off my helmet and tip my face up to the winter sky. True to his word, Peeta is right there with me, beaming. “You did it,” he laughs, pulling off his helmet. “It’s like you haven’t missed a single day.”

I look up at Peeta, his handsome face is sporting the first real smile I’ve seen all day. I’m practically euphoric, breathing heavily, chest heaving as the adrenaline and sense of achievement embolden me. And I decide I can be brave one more time.

He leans in at the same time as I reach for him, our lips meet in a kiss that’s nearly three years overdue. A kiss that tastes like affection and jubilation and maybe even a little bit of anger. He moans against my lips, low and guttural, gloved hand gripping the back of my neck, tilting my head authoritatively. There’s no hesitation in this kiss, no gentle discovery. His tongue plunders my mouth, demanding, taking. And I meet him stroke for stroke, greedy for the taste of him after so long.

We kiss and kiss, completely oblivious to our surroundings, to the cold that freezes sweaty tendrils of my hair into icicles, to the other skiers who zip by. Lost in each other, making up for all of the time we’ve wasted. It’s only when some stupid teenager calls out to us to get a room that we reluctantly break the kiss. But Peeta doesn’t let me go, instead he pulls me in as tightly as our skis and gear allow, pressing kisses to my cheek, my cold ear, my temple.

I wish I could freeze this moment, and live in it forever. But I’m starting to shiver, standing still in the wind and with my helmet lying in the snow. Peeta too is trembling. “I have dreamed of doing that for so long, Katniss,” he whispers, hot puffs of air lifting goosebumps on my skin. With one last squeeze, he pulls away and reaches for my helmet and his own. “Once more?” he asks, his voice a little gruffer than usual, and I raise a partially frozen eyebrow at him. He laughs, a real, free, joyful laugh, the first I’ve heard in years. “Come on, Everdeen,” he says, still chuckling. “Let’s see how you do on the double diamonds.”

We ski for hours, sometimes racing, sometime carving patterns together. On the cold chairlift rides back up, he wraps his arm around me and we talk, really talk, catching up on three years of friendship. We don’t kiss again, don’t talk about dating or relationships or anything scary like that. Which is good, because my determination that right now we should only be working on making our friendship stronger is fading fast.

When the slope lights flicker on at three-thirty I’m shocked. Time has always passed quickly, effortlessly when I’m on the hills. And apparently also when I’m with Peeta. “Ready to go in?” he asks. “I think I’m done for the day.” He grabs my hand and makes a show of towing me towards the lodge while I laugh. And he keeps holding my hand, even as we ditch our skis and helmets.

We’re still holding hands when we walk into the staff lounge. Johanna is curled up in one of the shabby cast-off chairs, she glances over at our arrival, and I squirm, waiting for some smart-ass remark about our entwined hands. But I don’t get one. “You medically cleared, Everdeen?” she asks, and I nod. “Halle-freaking-lujah,” she says. “I have a buttload of tourists coming in from Topeka tomorrow.” She sighs. “None of them have even seen a mountain before. They’re going to be keeping you all busy for six solid days.”

Peeta and I look at each other, and matching grins crawl across our faces. Six fully booked days of private lessons? That’ll make a huge dent in the earnings I missed out on. It couldn’t come at a better time. I’m just about the suggest a celebratory hot chocolate when Johanna continues. “Staff Christmas party is tomorrow night.” The lodge’s annual employee Christmas gathering, the very same one where everything Peeta and I had been building towards three years ago fell apart. The timing is ironic. “I put you down as bringing cinnamon buns, Mellark,” Johanna says, oblivious to my discomfort.

Or maybe not so oblivious. “Better be the good ones.” She climbs out of her chair, sauntering towards us and making a big production of licking her lips and rubbing her stomach, before turning to me. “Everyone wants his buns,” she says, and the intentional double entendre is not lost on me. I pull my hand out of Peeta’s and wrap my arms around myself. “You coming too, Brainless? I didn't see your name on the sign up board.”

And just like that, all of the pain of three years ago comes rushing back full force, along with every old insecurity. The slamming of the staff room door cuts off Johanna’s cackling, replacing it with a tense silence. “I’ve never done anything with Johanna,” Peeta says beside me, barely a whisper. I nod at my ski boots. I’m sure he hasn’t, Jo loves to torment me, to tease me about being too straight-laced and hard to swallow, that’s all her little show was about. But it doesn’t stop the unease. His reputation as a player is, after all, well-earned, and hard to forget. “Katniss? Please look at me.”

I do, and his expression nearly guts me. It’s the same defeated expression he wore in the cave, the same one I used to see when his mother would pick on him. “I know you said you wanted to be just friends,” he whispers. “And I promised myself that I wouldn't push you. But you have to know, I’ve never gotten over you. I want…” He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. When he reopens them, they’re so full of pain that I can’t look away. “I want to erase the past three years. I know,” he shakes his head. “I know it’s not possible. But maybe…” he trails off again, as if his silver tongue has failed him completely.

The need to comfort him rises up again, and this time I don’t push it away. When I squeeze his arm, he lifts his gaze, pinning me with a look of earnest intensity. “I want a do-over, Katniss. Come with me to the party. Let me fix what I fucked up three years ago.”

I have no doubt he’s completely sincere, I can see the fear and determination warring in his expression. I’m terrified too. Three years ago, we found ourselves in exactly the same situation, and we both got burned. We’re older now, wiser, maybe even a little braver. But we can’t actually go back in time.

What do I do? Go to the party with Peeta, trust that he’s not the player he seems to be, open my heart up knowing that if it doesn’t work out I’ll be shattered? Or play it safe, go Christmas shopping for Prim instead of to the party, and keep working on building a solid friendship with Peeta for now?

#EYOA #powder keg #what's it going to be?

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