Just a Game {Everlark}

Chapter 7

Curled up on the sofa in our Victors Village home, I tap on the side of my steaming mug of tea with my fingertips in a soft, tinkling rhythm.
Peeta washes up in the kitchen after dinner. I'm turning the fragile pages of our book of plants without reading them, my eyes fixed on the burning embers of our roaring fire. I know the flames are reflected in my eyes, licking at the grey in my eyes with their broad orange strokes, ever changing, unpredictable.
I suppose they do suit me. My personal fire. My constant flames.

Peeta emerges from the kitchen. He's wearing a light blue shirt, rolled up to the elbows and undone at the top button. It clings to his broad shoulders in the most complimenting and distracting manner.
I notice how the amber glow of the fire dances across the soft wrinkles of his shirt in the dimly lit room. The fire high lights his blonde hair, making it shine. It both casts away and creates shadows on different parts of his face, his strong cheekbones and chiseled jaw.
He parts his lips to speak and I envy the breath that passes through them.
"You look pensive." He smiles at me and crosses the room in his long strides, sitting down next to me and placing his own mug of tea on the coffee table.
"Use a coaster." I say, looking at him with a grin. "That is mahogany."
He chuckles to himself and slides a coaster under his mug.
"Wow, I haven't read this in a while." He says gently, looking down at the boom in my lap which we made all those years ago.
I share it across both our legs, and watch him as he carefully turns the pages, examining his handiwork and tracing a finger over my handwriting. I notice so many little things as I scan his profile, like the length of his ebony eyelashes, the slight furrow in his brow, the sunset pink that graces his cheeks, just below his eyes. I watch my own hand intertwine with his. We doesn't look up at me, but gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
Today has been exhausting, physically and emotionally. I'm still reeling both from finding Prim's grave adorned with her beautiful flowers, and from the kindness of Peeta for doing it.
So we sit in the quiet, the only sound coming from the crackling fire and the creak of our old book's spine as the pages are slowly turned. We don't need voices, don't need sound. We can hear it in the silence.
He closes the book upon reaching the end and turns his head to meet my eyes, our faces centimetres apart.
It strikes me how I can feel both exhilarated and at peace in his presence.
How can he make me feel as weightless as a lead feather and as heavy as air?
I'm not in love in a conventional sense. He is a part of me, of my heart, my soul.
I remember Gale saying that if pick whoever I couldn't survive without.
You can't survive without a part of your soul, so I suppose he was right.

Peeta kisses me and I shut my eyes,
And I am neither alive nor dead,
I am just drifting.

***
Birds are chirping outside the next morning, and I can't decide if it's melodious or very annoying.
I know one thing- I'm not glad it woke me up.
For the first time in a while, not only did I not have a nightmare, but I actually had a dream.
Usually a good night for me is one without a nightmare. I can't remember the last dream I had. Generally speaking, a night without nightmares I don't have anything but sleep, nothing that I remember anyway.
Last night was a beautiful dream. There were puffy white clouds all around, with a colourful meadow in the sky. I was with Primrose, who was three years older than the last time I saw her. She was wearing a yellow chiffon dress and her silky blonde hair was all the way down to her waist, loose and flying all around as she ran and danced, as happy carefree as she should've been during her short life.
She told me everything was going to be alright. She told me to stay strong. She caught our fathers hand and whispered something before I woke.
"Katniss. Remember who the real enemy is. Don't let them change you any more."
Peeta is gone from the bed, his side neatly made. I exhale and sit up, running a hand through my unruly hair.
I can't help but wonder what Prim meant by what she said. I know who the enemy is. Was. They're gone now. I can now live my life quietly. How would they change me? The thought of how much they've changed both me and Peeta already makes me angry, but I force my frustration back down. There's no good in losing it. It takes ten times longer to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

The words etched on my mind, I pad downstairs, knowing Peeta has gone on to town already, back to work.
In his absence, a letter has come through the door. It lies on our doormat and I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. They brought the physical postage letter system back after the rebellion to make it easier for the poorer among us to receive and send post.
My heart plummets when I see the Capitol seal shining up at me from the face of the envelope. Its authenticity is vindicated by the reflective ink on the seal.
My hands trembling, I clutch the letter and sit down on the sofa in our living room.
It's addressed to me and Peeta.
I stare at it, terrified. What the hell could they possibly want from us?
I bite down hard on my lip and tear it open, knowing Peeta wouldn't mind that I opened it without him.
I pull the letter out and scan it quickly, my knuckles white in my iron grip.
With a blank face, I stand up and pull on a jacket and some shoes, letter in hand.
I have to go find Peeta.

--

HELLO
sorry for the delay, everyone. Should I set a day to update each week? It's a bit messy right now!
What do you think the letter says?? ~Suspenseeeeeeeeeee~
Favourite, share and comment!
Love always,
-Jocelyn