REAL ?

He  didn’t  ask.  I  just  offered  what  I  intend  to  do  with  them.  Since  stepping  off  the  train,  I’ve  been  so  deep  in  my  own  thoughts  that  I  realize  I  don’t  even  know  what  his  purpose  for  the  weekly  basket  of  goodies  or  why  he  still  tries.  Couldn’t  he  sell  it  at  his  family’s  business?  Though,  after  quick  thought  and  delicious  smelling  bread,  now,  I  feel  bad.

he's been keeping busy since they got back. he didn't have to wake up early anymore. or bake. or do anything that he's been doing for sixteen years but he does anyway because now, without the constant need to survive, he found that he genuinely liked it. he enjoyed baking and cooking, especially for people. but he knows that he's been following katniss around and offering her food like a lost dog. he can't help it. he knows it was fake, a ploy to stay alive, but part of him wants to be near her in any way he can. even if it means nothing to her in any significant way. part of him, he's sure, is masochist. why continue being kind and going out of your way for someone that's with someone else. that loves someone else. because she saved you and it's the right thing to do. he knows that his feelings are his and she's not responsible for his heartbreak. it's the burden he'll always have to carry. gale was hers before they ever entered the games.

she  can  never  have  enough  words  coming  out  of  that  painted  mouth.  was  a  problem  back  in  her  valley  days,  surely  felt  like  one  to  anyone  on  the  receiving  end  of  her  endless  rants  about  anything  in  the  mornings  now.  especially  her  victors.  especially  the  ones  that  were  either  too  hungover  or  too  chronically  inept  to  life  in  society  as  two  out  of  her  three.  but  peeta  never  seemed  to  have  any  trouble  listening;  not  even  the  high  pitch  or  the  accent,  it  didn't  always  or  immediately  throw  him  off.  something  about  him  being  kind  enough  to  try  &   listen  through  all  that,  effie  was  certain.  she  loved  to  talk.  it  was  a  sweet  twist  of  fate  when  someone  agreed  to  listen.  only  some  things  she  should  probably  just  keep  to  herself,  as  usual.

there's something about the capitol parties that twists his stomach in a particularly nauseating way. the idea of celebrating what they had accomplished was already sickening. thank you for sponsoring another tribute's death, champagne ? but the way the laughter carried and wrapped around him, the smell of pastries much too sweet, the bubbles that wafted into the air and landed stickily on his skin. everything about it made him want to vomit until his throat was raw. something, oddly enough, about effie being among them seemed just slightly out of place. maybe it was how he noticed she'd steal herself away for long periods of time just to pop up or how her words always seemed to be just slightly off of whatever everyone was crooning about. something about effie trinket always stuck his as odd. tonight being no exception.

Honestly, it really was just a coincidence that they tried to get away from the main room at the same time - those moments come at least once every big event for her, still, needing just a moment, no matter how small to escape and take a damn breath. It's quieter out here. Not completely quiet, there's noise coming from behind the doors, people slipping in and out every now and then, but quieter. Safer. She hadn't really been able to help a little snort at the image of the newest victor (or, one of them) trying to pat a shirt that's now probably stained - just the thought of what a hissy fit the stylists would throw is enough to grasp something like a smile out of her. Oh, the fuckin' agony. Ruined fabric.

"you seriously need a haircut." johanna quirks a brow at him, fighting off ( and failing at ) the smile inching onto her face. it was an odd relationship they had, first as an alliance born out of obligation during the quarter quell, then as a necessary friendship when they were both imprisoned. and now they were actual friends who could visit each other's districts without complication. she hasn't had such a friend in a long time. childishly, she wishes peeta thought of her the same. "don't think that's me offering to do it, though. i'll gladly chop wood for you but i'm not chopping your hair." ironically, however, johanna's maintained her own short hair all by herself. "you look good."