Broken Wings

chapter 5

After our faces dry up so does the rain. the Breakfasts that follow are much better, but it is still awkward since we don't really know where we stand. Even after yesterday we still have some ways to go. So, after breakfast I need something to throw myself into. Fortunately it is time to go to Haymitch, he and I only have a little to go before we're finished.

When I get there Haymitch is asleep, so I don't wake him. You would think me rude to just barge into someone's house, but this is Haymitch. I have seen both him and his house at his worst. I really don't feel like the teasing today though because my emotions are still so muddled from yesterday and the painting. I know that Peeta had feelings for me, but the fact that he got caught up in watching me just as I did makes me question my 'innocent' observations. I try to remember looking at Gale or even Finick that way being the only other male friends I can think of. Not coming to anything I get so desperate and start trying to see if I looked at Haymitch like that. I come up with nothing. The odds were not in my favour Peeta grew to someone special inside of me. I think of the way his heart stopped leaving me totally helpless. Finick helped him when I couldn't, I was so shaken by the happenings I started making those awful sobbing sounds. I guess his hold on me was much stronger than I had anticipated.

"Humph" I look up to find Haymitch looking at me. I'm sitting in the same position I have been since I finished cleaning, which if the clock is right was an hour ago.

"I'm leaving." I say and get up to leave. I'm about to leave the room when he stops me.

"I saw you lead him to his house. I thought you were going to lock him in." I turn to tell him I'm not that bad, but let's face it I am so I just look down.

"But you stayed a while, a long while. Why?" He's not going to let me leave until I tell I'm anyway so.

"I thought that if I showed him his old paintings he might not struggle so much." I'm telling all this to the wooden slats of the floor. I don't know why, but I don't want Haymitch's opinion. "I don't know how else to help him unless he asks. He looked like he wanted to this morning without following through though."

"Just give it time, he'll come 'round. Now get out of my house. Haven't you heard that it's bad manners to come in uninvited." On the walk back to my house I try and think what to do with my day, it's only 1 and I can't really go to bed now. Plus, I'm quite hungry, so I guess my next move is to cook. I'm better at making soups but since I cook dinner, I'm sick of it. I can't make anything else, but I don't want it. I remember the magnificent meals we had in the capital, but I can't replicate them unless I want to burn my house down. I open my cupboard to look what's there, and I'm so frustrated with my cooking limits I decide to try break them. I'll start simple and make some rolls I saw in the capital. They had some greens rolled through the dough with cheese.

I start to make a simple bread dough that I'm proud of, it even rises. I had the greens and cheese a knead it in as best I can. Once I've rolled it up you plainly see it is my first on it being lob-sided and there are small holes everywhere, but I put I in the oven and hope for the best. While I wait, I clean up, having made quite a mess. It takes a bit to get the dry dough of the countertop. I scrub and scrub until I'm distracted by an unusual smell, but I think nothing of it and carry on. After a while longer I smell smoke, which confuses me because summer heat is starting to set in. That's when I realise my lunch is on fire. It is literally on fire; I didn't even think that was possible! I hear a knock on the door, and I shout for Haymitch to get in here, because he is only knocking cause of this morning. I yank open the oven and grab to pan, but forgetting to put on gloves first brings a scream to my lips and I drop the black log on my foot. Once it lands the black bursts open sending piping hot dough all over meaning one more burn and scream. I have never been very afraid of pain, but I find burns excruciatingly painful. I try turn on the tap to get cold water on my hands, but it hurts too much to touch anything. I'm about to use my mouth when hands shoot around me, and I'm lifted of the ground on to the counter. Peeta then turns on the tap for my hands and wets a cloth for my foot. I'm stunned into speechlessness. where did he come from? I stare at his face while he is in concentration as he fixes my burns. I'm still trying to understand where he appeared from when he suddenly looks up.

"Where do you keep your first aid supplies?" In a daze I point in the direction of the first aid kit in the kitchen that hasn't moved since we all moved in the first time. He fetches it and rubs an ointment in that soothes the stinging. When he is bandaging my hand his face changes form slowly into a smirk. When I'm done, he places his hands on either side for my legs and looks straight at me. He is so close I can almost feel his breath on my skin, and I try not to blush. Still smirking he raises his eyebrows, asking what he just walked into. I get defensive and embarrassed, so I fold my arms over my chest and look away.

"I can't cook." This starts Peeta off laughing so hard he can't stop. I would be happy for him if it weren't so humiliating. As he moves his hand to hold his stomach, I twist away from him and limp away. I fetch some cleaning stuff and wait for him to calm down, once he has, I limp back. Upon seeing my face, he starts off again and I hate it, when he sees this, he tries to calm down. But he fails and says between gasps for air and breaks of laughter, "So... so you just hang around and wait for breakfast. Y..." he breaths "you should really learn how then."

"Oh, so you can do better? I know you can bake but you weren't born a baker you were taught." I teel him, "You can't tell me you're an ace at cooking, can you?" Rhetorical question, but it's enough for him to stop his continuing cackle.

"I can cook quite well actually." He says, chin up like a prideful peacock.

"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "I'm going to clean up, then just stick with what I know and make soup. AGAIN!" I'm so sick of this dish I would rather go hungry, but he doesn't have to know that. He snickers under his breath from behind me.

"Or," what now? "You could tidy up while I make you some lunch. I hate eating by myself anyway." I know what he means, plus I like the idea, but I only say. "Fine."