Twisted Perfection ~ Everlark

Hello.

Katniss' PoV:
I'm jolted from my trance by the sharp ringing of the doorbell. I quickly pounce from the chair I was slouched in and run to the door.

Before I even open it, I'm asking, "Peeta? Is that you?"

But when I open it, I see him. I see someone I haven't seen for at least a year. He's unforgiven and unforgotten, but only unforgotten for bad reasons. His eyes still posses that gray colouring of angry clouds on a dull day, when the sky threatens to chuck it down with rain. He stands there with a stubble, still tall and decent clothing; better than the type he used to wear.

"Hello Gale." I say drearily.

"Hey Catnip." He smiles hastily at me.

I decide to let him in. It can't go any harm.

We walk over to the kitchen and he sits down on the wooden chair. I stand opposite him on the other side of the kitchen island.

"What do you want?" I ask him.

His face contorts into a look of confusion and betrayal. His brows furrow at me. I make no attempt in apologising for my moody and un-welcoming welcome.

"So, this is how you greet an old friend." He says, swallowing hard.

"Maybe I don't recognise you as a murderer." I say. I know that I've stepped over the line completely. Like the rabbit deliberately standing in-front of the hungry fox. But, with Peeta gone and Prim gone forever, it's hard not to blame someone for their disappearances. I look into his eyes and they quirk into anger and discomfort.

"What the hell?" He asks with a raise tone.

I sigh and shake my head. "No." I say to myself, more than to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Gale." I say in regret from my previous statement.

"It's ok," He says, "I understand if you need someone to blame." He says sounding sorry for me. His mouth forms a sympathetic smile.
"Just remember Katniss," He says, using my first name. He only used to use my first name in serious circumstances or when he was mad at me. "Coin released those bombs. I may have designed them, but she released them." He said, trying to pump some forgiveness into me.

"To be honest Gale," I say with tears swelling in my shiny eyes, "If I never started this revolution, and never shot that arrow at the arena, I would be dead like I was supposed to be. Prim, Finnick and Boggs would still be alive and Peeta would be safe."

I let the pearl-shaped tears roll down my cheeks from wide and luminous eyes. Gale comes near to me and extends his strong arms out slightly. I don't know why I find myself in a warm embrace with him, but after 4 months of Peeta not hugging me, I needed someone to. Even if that person was Gale. His chin rests on top of my head and I let my tears dampen his shirt. Somehow, his scent registers with my nose and I hit with nostalgia of when he hugged me before I got sent off to the first games. The last hope of comfort I had encountered.

After several minutes, I release from his grasp.

"Katniss, look at me," He says, lightly lifting my chin up to meet his gray eyes. "When tragedies strike, we try to find someone to blame. And in the absence of a suitable candidate, we usually blame ourselves. You are not to blame. No one is to blame. No one knew that Prim was down there. Hell, If I knew she was, I would have knocked Coin out with my fist." He says, making me chuckle slightly.

"What are you doing here anyways?" I ask, trying to wipe the many tears from my damp face.

"Um, I'm visiting my mother. It was Posy's birthday yesterday." He says.

"Oh, well tell her I said Happy Birthday." I say.

"I will." I smile at him.

"How's Haymitch?" He asks me.

"Ok, still sober as far as I'm aware. He has some geese that he ordered from district 10 and they came in a month ago. They keep him busy."

I swear he starts to ask about Peeta. I'm surprised he even cares about him to ask. I decided to tell him about the current circumstance, but before he can speak, the phone starts to ring.

Before I walk over to answer I speak to Gale, "sorry, I have to answer this."

I pick the phone up and a voice that's all too familiar with me, speaks through.
His voice sounds rough and rugged like he's just woken up from a nap or that he's miserable.

"Katniss." Haymitch says.

"Haymitch? What's the matter?" I ask, crossing my free arm over my chest. I don't know why I do this. Maybe to brace myself for what is about to come, so that I don't collapse onto the floor. Maybe it brings me comfort to aid the fast beating of my heart, praying it will slow significantly. After 10 seconds that feel like 10 lifetimes, he finally speaks up.

"It's Peeta. He coming home. Tomorrow."