How Well Do You Know Josh Hutcherson? One Thing We've Got, a hunger games fanfic. I can feel the bile rising in my throat as his eyes well up. This couldn't have been a surprise to him, as we've been drifting apart for so long. We aren't the same people we were when we got married. We haven't been the same people for a long time. What Josh Hutcherson Will Look Like in 55+ Years by: Kaitlin Cubria on February 21, 2012 at 6:00 pm EDT. Pingback: Sorry, Josh Hutcherson! 5 Actors Who Would’ve Made a Better Peeta() SarahNeverBeenHere Hotness+fame+star in the movie of the year. Peeta Mellark (Character) on IMDb: Movies, TV, Celebs, and more. There may be more credits available for this character. To edit the credits displayed or to add more credits to this character's filmography, click the Edit Credits link. Surely he's noticed this; it can't just be me who's been unhappy with us. Divorce is ugly, but isn't it worse to stay married to someone when you shouldn't? We don't have any kids or any real shared assets to our name. The restaurant has my name on it but I don't want it - it's all his. I don't need his money to survive; I make enough from my own job to be fine. I don't exactly know how to describe what's happened to us. How do I tell my husband that I'm living with a stranger? That his dream job, what he's wanted to do since he was a kid, has turned him into someone I could never imagine him to be. That I feel like a burden to him now because I don't know what to talk to him about? I can tell he's trying to process what's happening. His forehead is scrunched and his lips are pursed in the classic 'confused Peeta' face. Peeta Mellark Gale Hawthorne Supporting characters Haymitch Abernathy Cinna Effie Trinket Primrose Everdeen President Snow Plutarch Heavensbee Alma Coin Tributes Careers. Starring Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Liam Hemsworth, Sam Claflin, Donald Sutherland and. Katniss everdeen peeta mellark katniss mom primrose everdeen glimmer and clove. Every marriage has its problems; we knew this would be tough going in. How long have you been this unhappy without telling me? He's right; I should have brought this up before I had Johanna draft up the paperwork. In my defense, it's not like he's been home lately. He spends all his time at the restaurant or thinking about the restaurant or complainingabout the damn restaurant. But is it fair to blame him? He's already upset enough. The blue eyes of my best friend and the love of my life, who I'm so close to walking away from forever. I hear him pick up the papers and flip through them. I can't do anything else. He deserves better than me, I reason, to share his dream with. Someone who can handle his ridiculous shifts and 7. No, that person was never supposed to be me. In time, he'll get over the shock and realize that there's someone out there better for him. He slips the papers into his jacket pocket. As he walks past me, I can feel him press his lips to the crown of my head. I want to reach up to him, to thread my fingers through his and provide him some bit of comfort. Serving him with divorce papers doesn't negate the idea that I do love him and always will. Let me prove to you that we haven't been for nothing, that our marriage hasn't been a complete failure. Meet me at the restaurant at 8. If it's still not enough, I'll sign the papers and be out of your life forever. Just know that I love you too much to just let you go without a fight. They were both placed on the coffee table when I got home from work. I'm not sure how Peeta got it into the house; he left his key the day he moved his belongings out, but I suspected my . Prim seemed to take the news of mine and Peeta's impending divorce harder than either of us. She would do anything to keep us together - including giving in to one of Peeta's . She never could understand why I hated it when he went out of his way to 'prove' his love or apologize for things. Fancy dinners and meeting celebrities and exotic trips and expensive jewelry may have been fun at first, but they weren't what I wanted from him. Those weren't the things I needed from him. No, I always preferred the small, intimate gestures; the things he did when we were just friends that made me see him in a different light. Over time, however, those dwindled away until I was left with a man who thought bigger was better when it came to expressing his feelings. I miss the old Peeta, the Peeta I married so young, defying our families because we knew better. The Peeta who dreamed bigger than I could ever imagine, but always made sure I knew I was first in those dreams. And then those dreams started coming true for him. He opened a restaurant, determined to prove all the people who called him a fool for wanting to open a business in this lousy economy wrong. I admired that, I loved that. He was always striving to prove that he was better than what others expected of him. He stood up to that witch of a mother so many times for so many things, just because she told him he . And once they did, our lives exploded . There were days where we wouldn't see each other at all except when he crawled into bed late at night, mere hours before I woke up for work the next morning. He felt guilty about it and the guiltier he felt, the more extravagant his gifts became. And he began slipping further and further away from me. I glance at the clock on the wall. It's only 6, so I've got two hours to get ready and head down to his restaurant. Even though I know he's got something utterly ridiculous planned that will likely involve everyone we know huddled together for some intervention- type thing, I can't really deny him this. He's been handling this better than I expected he would, giving me my space, moving into the small apartment above the restaurant, and getting his stuff when he knew I'd be gone. He hasn't tried to pressure me into reconsidering, which is odd and very unlike Peeta, but I shouldn't complain. Instead, I decide to grant him his last request and make my way to shower off the day. I lift the lid off the Macy's box and run my hand over the soft, black fabric. It fits perfectly as I slip it on and I can't fight the smile that overtakes my face. Peeta still remembers my dress size after all these years. And what style looks best on my not- so- feminine frame. I study myself in the mirror and let out a small snort at his choice. A scoop neckline embroidered with a strand of pearls that continues down to scoop at my lower back, cut along the bias to accent my virtually non- existent curves. It falls all the way down my legs and skims the floor, even without having to wear super high heels, which I've always hated. At the bottom of the box is a pearl hair comb. It's just like the one he bought for our wedding and my heart flutters at the memory. We were happy then, I know we were, so full of life and love and ready to throw our middle fingers to the world. I promised him I would never desert him. He promised to keep me as his number one. How good to see you again! Whenever I came in with Peeta, Chaff would always try to tell me I looked like some classic Hollywood starlet. Audrey Hepburn was just another in a long list of apparent . The inside is designed to look like a log cabin and all the tables and chairs are cut to resemble logs. The walls are a soft orange and the lighting accentuates the . I could have sworn that Peeta talked about redecorating the place, streamlining it to make it more clean and modern, but he must have changed his mind because District 1. Chaff takes me to a small table near the back, presumably so Peeta can jet back to the kitchen if he's needed. I'll send someone back to take your order. He always said it made everything feel real that way. I sigh when I realize that Chaff is out of sight and I'll have to wait until they send a waiter over. I'm confused when one makes his way to my table with a tray of food, since I haven't ordered or even seen one yet. Mellark, compliments of the chef. But I was told to send you his regards and he will be here as soon as he can. Of course there was an emergency. The pastry and hot chocolate, both of which I love, are apology gifts. Cheese buns are my weakness which only infuriates me more. He asked for this night, didn't he, to prove that we weren't falling apart; yet here he is, unable to spare even a few minutes to greet me or to bring these . As delicious as these treats are, they leave a bitter taste in my mouth. By the time I finish picking at the food and push the plate away from me, the waiter has returned, again with a tray of food ready to serve. He hopes you enjoy this special dish, for tonight only, chicken and saffron rice with chocolate sauce. An East Indian dish paired with traditional French champagne makes absolutely no sense. I'm not a trained sommelier by any stretch of the imagination, but enough time spent with Peeta doing food- wine samples taught me some basics. I eat my food slowly, even though my hope of Peeta joining me is slowly dissipating. If he hadn't slipped out yet, it isn't likely he'll be able to. As much as I want to enjoy the food, the overwhelming sadness of what's happening overtakes me. I should have been relieved, this night proved my point better than anything I could have thought up. Once again, Peeta is putting his dreams ahead of me and attempting to make up for it with extravagance. I set my napkin on the plate and push my chair back. I can't stay in this place any longer, knowing what I know, that this was his last chance and he blew it. Before I can stand, the waiter is back with another tray of food. Chef Mellark wanted to save the best for last. But can you ask Chef Mellark to come see me, please? It is of the utmost importance. Peeta made Cracker Jacks for dessert? I open it and can't believe my eyes. Sitting in front of me, true to his word, are our divorce papers. And under my hastily scribbled Katniss Everdeen Mellark is the distinct scrawl of Peeta Mellark. I slip the papers into my purse and once more slide my chair from my table. Here he was, yet again, sending things through another when all I needed was for him to come to me himself. A sparkle catches my attention and my eyes are glued on the dessert. Curiously, I finger through the homemade Cracker Jacks until I find the source and again I cannot contain my laughter. Just like the original treat, Peeta has included a surprise toy. I turn the ring over in my shaking fingers and spy an engraving on the underside of the diamond. I catch the arm of the waiter as I rush out of the restaurant, thanking him for everything and telling him that I won't need to speak with Peeta. The outside air, although cool in early spring, feels heavy on my bare skin. I don't know where to go but I now know, with more clarity than ever, what it is I need to do. He keeps his distance from where I'm sitting in the oversized window ledge, my head resting on the cool glass.
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