Everlark Angst - Tumblr Posts

where do we go from here?

summary:

Her body has become an expanse of jutting angles and hard corners after weeks of not taking care of it properly but the boy doesn't seem to mind as he envelopes Katniss into his warm embrace. If he holds her tight enough, the Girl on Fire thinks that her flames might just wink out of existence.   

Right now? Nothing sounds lovelier.

or

Katniss struggles with disordered eating habits. Peeta helps her through it.

A/N: this is literally just a vent piece for me, i dont think i’ll even post it on ao3 (at least, not until i feel like im in the right headspace to give an idea / a story like this my full attention). What Katniss experiences in this drabble will not be relatable to everyone who has ever had to live with disordered eating because oftentimes experiences of the sort are very individual and personal. I wrote this with my own experiences in mind.

TW: disordered eating habits, talk of eating disorders. Please do not read this is if could harm you. 

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“You only have to eat what you can manage.”

Peeta Mellark sounds cautious as he puts a plate on the kitchen table and places the food on it (two slices of toasted and buttered bread, an apple, a handful of grapes). Treading carefully around her as if he’s scared she might break. 

There was a time when Katniss would have snapped at his behaviour. Told him to stop treating her like glass when she’s anything but.

Today, however, she finds that she doesn't mind too much.

(It's nice to be treated with tenderness sometimes.)

"I don't know how much I'll be able to keep down." Katniss is truthful with him because she knows by now that lying to Peeta Mellark never gets her anywhere.

"That's okay," he murmurs. "We can always try again later too, hm?" 

The girl nods but thinks to herself morbidly that this must be what decaying is like.

Dirty plates stacked up in the kitchen sink because she can't muster the energy to wash them. Food rotting in the pantry because she can’t bear the thought of even looking at it. When she does eat, the small morsels she's swallowed are retched into the toilet moments later. At night, she tugs or pinches harshly at the skin on her stomach and arms and thighs. Repulsed by the very same body that got her through two death tournaments and a war. A body that keeps trying to protect her, in spite of all the ingratitude she shows it. 

The irony of hating something that has kept her alive for so long is not lost on her. 

But it feels like control and Katniss wants to believe that it is.

(Peeta’s frequent hand squeezes and Haymitch’s worried gaze tell a completely different story, regardless of how hard the girl tries to ignore them both.)

Peeta's arms come around her then. Gently pulling her out of her thoughts and against his chest. Katniss goes willingly, swaying forward and breathing him in deeply - lavender, fresh bread, honey.  

She’s nothing but crumbling dust against the warm pillar his chest creates. 

Skin and atrophying bones that rattle inside of her with every step she takes. Brittle hair, a sandpaper tongue and razor-sharp teeth. Her body has become an expanse of jutting angles and hard corners after weeks of not taking care of it properly but the boy doesn't seem to mind as he envelopes Katniss into his warm embrace. If he holds her tight enough, the Girl on Fire thinks that her flames might just wink out of existence.   

Right now? Nothing sounds lovelier.

Her next words are muffled by Peeta’s soft blue jumper - one she recognises easily after having stolen it enough times.

What she says is; 

“You shouldn't have to deal with all this. I'm sorry. I’m sorry.”  

What she means to say is;

“You shouldn’t have to deal with me. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve anything. Sometimes food feels like a privilege. Living always feels like one. I’m sorry, Peeta. I’m so so sorry.”

Peeta seems to hear all the words she can’t bring herself to say. 

 “Katniss, you don't have to apologise. None of this is your fault.”

She laughs at this; self-deprecating. As sharp as a knife and twice as brazen.

I let this happen to me. How is it not my fault?

But she doesn't say it out loud because despite Peeta’s reassuring words, the boy looks tired and sad and Katniss doesn’t want to argue with him and add to the heaviness he carries on his shoulders.

But then, Peeta does something she doesn’t expect. His hands move up so they're framing her face - thumbs brushing over her cheeks lightly. His eyes are cautious blue pools of worry and something sick and nauseating churns in Katniss’s empty stomach upon realising that he’s upset because of her. 

“Sweetheart, you gotta hear me.” he murmurs, ignorant to her thoughts. “None of this is your fault.”

And Katniss Everdeen doesn't really know why, but when she begins to cry, she nearly forgets how to stop. Peeta’s fingers brush away at the tears on her face and he presses his lips to the crown of her head gently. 

“Oh my sweet girl. Hey, hey - it’s alright. We’re okay.” His voice is reassuring as he manouvrers her head to his chest and wraps his arms around her once again. 

“I love you. You’re doing good. We’ll get through this too, Kat. I promise.”

Katniss’s hands just dig into his back as she shudders. Something like a hiccuped sob falling from her lips when his arms tighten around her comfortingly.

“I’m sorry I can’t look after myself better.” 

“It’s alright, Katniss. We’ll take each day as it comes. We’ll do it together, okay?”

And it’s not okay. Not yet at least. Both of them know that.

But when Katniss pulls away from his chest to see Peeta looking down at her with dewey eyes, she thinks that one day it might be.

Heyy 😊, maybe it's too much but I think these would go well together for everlark

your fingers slowly running through their hair

+

their face buried in your chest

+

patiently hearing them venting out their frustration and tiredness of the busy day

AND IT ALL HURTS (BUT IT’S FINE)

cw: none!

ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ

Katniss realises there's something wrong with Peeta the moment he steps through the door.

Shoulders slumped, blonde hair messy, he shuffles into the living room and offers her a halfhearted smile.

"Hey, sweetheart."

He sounds exhausted, overwhelmed, and his voice cracks horribly when his eyes meet hers.

"Hey."

Katniss reaches out to him from her place on the couch and tugs him down on top of her when he places his hand in hers. The boy goes willingly, holding himself a little upright as to not crush her under his weight until Katniss pinches his side.

"Come closer?” It’s tentatively spoken.

Peeta hesistates. “I don’t want to smother you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

The boy huffs a laugh at this but obliges. Leaning down more heavily until his head is tucked into the valley between her neck and her shoulder and his arms are wrapped around Katniss's frame. He takes a deep breath as the girl starts to rubs his back tenderly. His breathes slowly against her skin, nose nestled against her pulse.

Under her ministrations, Peeta admits, "Today was hard."

And Peeta hasn’t been one for brokenhearted confessions for a while now, so when this one leaves his lips, Katniss has to swallow her surprise.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

He shudders almost imperceptibly in her arms so Katniss raises her hands from his back to card through his hair calmingly. Letting his loose curls spool around her fingers as he sags against her.

“Take your time.”

(To anyone else, the softness with which speaks would sound near foreign, but she hopes that to her boy it sounds like comfort and home.)

Slowly, quietly, after a while of them lying there, Peeta begins to speak.

"I wanted to make a special recipe my dad taught me when I was younger. I've been meaning to for a while now. I thought it would be a new specialty at the bakery,” his voice is muffled in her cardigan. “We used to make it together all the time. Just the two of us.”

Katniss hums gently, encouraging him to go on.

"I even called Delly over so I could teach her it. I was so sure I'd be able to make it-“

He cuts himself off, swallowing deeply and going quiet again for a while. Katniss lets him gather his thoughts. Pressing sweet kisses to the crown of his head.

When he speaks again, Peeta sounds devastated.

"I couldn't remember.”

Katniss's hands don't stop carding through his hair. Peeta’s arms tremble around her waist.

“I couldn’t- fuck, Katniss, I laid out all the ingredients and then realised I didn’t know what the steps were.”

His voice cracks, and Katniss wants so desperately to be able to see his face, but he keeps it firmly tucked away from her. Reluctant to let her see him hurting.

“I was so embarrassed, Kat. And Delly didn’t mind because she’s Delly and she’s my friend, but I was so upset about it. I still am.”

He takes a teary breath in. "I'm so angry with myself. Because I should be better now, right? They said I would be. I should be remembering more things by now.” Then, quieter.

"Why can't I remember?"

Peeta’s upset is an knife to Katniss’s stomach.

“I’ve lost one of the only things I had left of him.”

Katniss’s hands do stop then, moving so that she can cup them around his face and tilt it upwards. Peeta lifts his head from her chest and allows her to do so, pliant under her touch.

Their eyes meet and Katniss’s heart tightens painfully in her chest.

“You haven’t lost him, Peeta.” She thumbs his cheekbone carefully, wiping at the mess of tears gathering there. “You’ve just forgotten. And it’s painful and it hurts, but you’ll get it all back in time. Your memories won’t stay taken forever.”

When Peeta doesn’t speak, Katniss continues.

“And besides, you carry on his legacy every day, Peeta. You rebuilt the bakery. You cherish the recipes he taught you. You are kind and you care for your customers like you told me he did.”

The boy leans back from her more fully and Katniss follows him up so that they’re sitting on the couch facing each other. Her legs thrown over his, chests only a few inches apart. She taps his heart, once twice.

“You carry him here, Peeta. Forgetting one recipe won’t change that.”

Peeta nods like he doesn’t quite believe her yet, but will in time. When Katniss shuffles closer to press her lips against his forehead, he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry for being such a mess,” his voice come out low, ragged.

“Don’t be.” Katniss brushes his tears away with her fingertips. “I always want to hear about your day. Regardless of whether it was good or bad. We can try to make your recipe again tomorrow if you’d like.” she offers him a smile.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Peeta smiles back at her. A proper smile for the first time this evening. And it’s little dim at the edges, reminding Katniss of clouds when they obscure the sun ever so slightly. But it’s a smile nonetheless and so she takes it with open arms.