Author: RoastedGarlic
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Rating: K11
Genre: angst, romance, songfic
Pairing: Peeta/Katniss
(Peeta PoV)Disclaimer: The fandom and characters belong to Suzanne Collins. Song lyrics belong to Gotye. To me, this is pure entertainment.
Summary: But you didn't have to cut me off / Make it like it never happened and that we were nothingA/N: I started reading the Hunger Games trilogy the same week I got addicted to
Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye and when I’d finished the first book I listened to that song again and again and realized I could actually combine these two addictions and the idea of Peeta with these lyrics broke my heart. I cut out the girl’s part of the song, though, because it didn’t quite fit in.
This is situated between HG and CF. I had to write in English because I didn’t bother to find out what all the fandom-related words are in Finnish.
Please do listen to the song before and/or during reading!!
Somebody That I Used To Know
Now and then I think of when we were togetherI keep painting you. I know what they’re saying, they think I surely must have the need to forget all about the arena and what happened there, and in the Capitol they’re thinking I must feel like the luckiest man in Panem, and when I paint you over and over they sigh for the star-crossed lovers and everyone whispers they understand and aren’t I cute with my obsession of you.
I keep painting you in order to remember, to have a reason to float in my memories, how you caressed my cheek and fed me the soup Haymitch had sent and how you risked your life for me and came back from the Cornucopia bleeding but not for one second regretting.
Those actually are my happiest memories.
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
What you were saying was you couldn’t imagine living without me, not for one second, and I remember when you pulled out those nightlocks and I thought we were done, set up to die, and all I could think of was whether I could kiss you one last time.
They announced us victors and the Games were over and I knew we weren’t done quite yet, and I imagined us sharing a house and not being forced to fight for our lives any more and when anyone asked you said you were never as happy as when you found out you could have me despite us both being tributes.
Told myself that you were right for meThe girl who was on fire, the girl with braids year after year, the girl to whom my cheese rolls were a favourite, the girl I had loved all my life and who I intended to go to the arena to save because if I didn’t, you wouldn’t exist and I’d be as good as dead anyway myself.
The girl who wrapped herself around me, who wanted to sleep so close to me, whose nightmares my nearness was able to scare away.
But felt so lonely in your company
The train ride back to District 12 was worse than anything that I experienced during the Games. You were already gone, you were staring out through the window, your eyes not on fire any more, your ears no more eager to listen to whatever I would have wanted to say but couldn’t find the right words for.
But that was love and it's an ache I still rememberHow am I supposed to live with you next door? How am I supposed to get used to seeing you go hunting with Gale as if we never happened, as if the Games never happened – or more precisely, as if all you wanted was to forget about the Games, to forget about me?
Am I supposed to paint you day after day, watch you be my star-crossed lover for the cameras, supposed to remember all the times you leaned over to kiss me, and how you casually used to fling your legs over my lap and how Caesar Flickerman would get overly excited about our clear fondness of each other,
supposed to believe it was all just some hideous act that you had control over?
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadnessI paint all of your freckles. I wake up in the morning to get to my paintings, I cease to leave the house unless I in some way am forced to. I paint the point where your cheekbones fade out. I paint your mockingjay pin. I paint each and every hair of yours, every smile of yours. I paint you shooting an arrow through my heart but isn’t that just way too dramatic – that certain painting I personally burn in the oven while watching some cheese rolls turn from yellowish to brown to black. And I sleep, and sleep is sweet because every night, I dream of you, and sometimes those dreams have endings of happily ever after.
Like resignation to the end, always the endShould I have known? Did you even try to tell me it was going to last only to get us both out of the arena still breathing?
Did you feel anything when you finally forced me to see? Anything at all?
So when we found that we could not make sense“You see, Peeta, I’m so wrecked right now I can hardly live with myself, let alone anyone else – look, Peeta, I – I care about you – would you try to understand? For me?”
Well you said that we would still be friendsYeah right, you never could have forgiven yourself had you just put that arrow go through me and come out of the arena as the lone victor? Guess what. I hope you would’ve.
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was overOf course the Games had to end, I knew we were to get out of the arena, no matter dead or alive. I just didn’t know we’d be over as soon as the Games would.
And as I paint through the Games, I examine every single moment, wondering if I could’ve done or said something differently that would’ve led to you wanting me for real, not for the sake of survival or sponsors or keeping the Gamemakers happy.
But you didn't have to cut me offMe, a victor, wandering around his new house for the first time ever, not able to sleep. Wondering whether I’d see you the next day, whether we’d talk about all this. You never showing up.
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothingYou go to the Seam, you go to the Hob, you go to the forest and come out with game. I try to remember if it was better or worse not to know you at all, before the reaping.
And I don't even need your loveIt seems like I’m able to physically stay alive even when you’re not mine at all. That’s as much as I can promise. So go ahead, become happy, marry Gale, don’t marry him, whatever pleases you, because if you don’t need me then I’d be selfish to say you had to stay and fake it full-time.
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so roughYou looked me in the eye when we were about to swallow those nightlocks. After that you never did. Even when you saw me you chose not to look at me for real. I miss your eyes. I miss you calling my name. Peeta. Peeta. I miss your whispers and your temper and how we were standing hand in hand, in fire.
When you cross the streets and act like I don’t exist, I miss you.
No you didn't have to stoop so lowI cannot believe you actually send Prim to the bakery just to avoid seeing any part of the Mellark family.
I cannot believe you had the guts to make me believe you loved me.
I cannot believe you became part of their Games, agreed to lose yourself and not even noticed.
Now you're just somebody that I used to knowYou are the one who survived the Hunger Games with me. Who saved my life. Who I thought I had learned to know.
But I guess the odds never were in favour of us.
Now you're just somebody that I used to knowI keep painting you.
Now you're just somebody that I used to know