I never thought I'd post this, but if I'm going to get back into writing I need to start small and this was actually fun to write.

But something in me just wanted to write this. At first I wanted it to have a dark theme, like the 7 stages of grief dark. I re-wrote the ending to this so many times I can't even remember the original ending. And I KNOW voice mails aren't as long as they are in here, it's for the sake of the fanfic. Do I look like I own anything? No.

Warning: Bad language and suggestive themes, sorry no sex, yet. Enjoy! OH and if anyone would like to be my Beta I would SERIOUSLY appreciate that. Please be gentle, it's been 3 years since I've written.

Hey, it's Peeta, you know what to do!

"Where the hell are you?! I told you be outside my house at 12, and its 1. You better have fallen asleep cause I swear if you ditched me because of some bull shit I'll drop your ass so fast!"

"Call me back, I need to talk to you!"

"Why aren't you answering? Answer the damn phone!"

"You fucking little pansy, you can't ignore me forever. Pick your balls off the floor like a big boy and just fucking deal with what happened. And call me!"

"I know you see me calling you, answer the phone! I do know where you sleep, in that tiny twin of yours. Same place where I would make you cum over and over and over."

"Fine, you know what? Fuck you, I'm gonna go to Glimmer's, get shit-faced, and probably hook up with a babe or two. I was going to take you, but since you want to act like a little bitch."

"*Hic* Why aren't you answering? W-what did *Hic* I do"

"I'm so fucking *hic* d-drunk, here. We've fou-fought worse than this *hic* why won't you t-talk to me?"

"-Sounds of Cato puking in the background-"

"Look, I told you when this shit started I wasn't ready to let anyone know. You knew I would have to do shit with some girls, for my reputation. I don't see why you're so mad- it's not like I fucked her. Slut tasted like corn chips and smelled of moth balls anyway."

"Pick up the phone Baker boy I'm tired of this shit."

"You blocked me on Facebook?! You are such a whiney little cock sucker."

"Okay, that time you fucking bitch buttoned me!"

"Turn your phone off, have you? You know what Baker boy? You can go right to fucking hell, it's not like you meant anything to me. I wanted ass and you were so pitiful that I couldn't just say no. Yeah, that's right, I fucked you out of pity. Got anything to say to that?"

"I bet you aren't answering cause you're scared. Be scared!"

"...Peeta, call me."

"...Please."

"..."

"-Much softer- Why won't you call me back?"

"Look, I messed up okay? I'm sorry about that girl at that party, I really didn't think you'd be that mad. I did tell you I'm not ready to open up about that side of me yet. Call me, I really want to talk to you."

"Peeta it's been almost a week call me, send me a text, e-mail- something!"

"-sigh- Shit..."

"You remember the night you and I got together? Gale Hawthorne's pool bash? You were a freshmen and I was a sophomore. You were sitting by the shallow end reading The Great Gastby and I just had to make fun of you for reading at a party. I threw your book in the water, you remember that? -Chuckle- You were so mad...I'll never forget the look in your eyes. So much passion, so much rage, so much...Muchness. And the next thing I know, you tackle me in the pool, that hurt by the way- you're like a fucking bull when it comes to take downs. You made me go buy you a new one and we talked for hours, remember? Remember coming back to my house and fooling around in almost half the rooms? I do -Voicemail cuts off-

"...I remember everything about you"

"Peeta, it's been two weeks. Please...I need to know you're okay...I just need to know."

"You're starting to worry me, don't make me call your family. I will bring them into this. Just- FUCKING CALL ME!"

"-Sob- Baby call me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just fucked it up, I fucked it all up. -Sob- I-I just wanted to let you know that. I-I was the one w-who would promise to come out 'After Graduation'. I'm sorry I never kept my promise. -Sob- I don't deserve you."

"I hate you, I never gave you permission to do this to me! To fuck me up the way that you have, what gives you the right?! To mess with my emotions, make me...You know what, I am NOT sorry. I take back everything I said!"

"...I love you. I'll be better I promise. Just...-Sob- talk to me. Baby I'll be better I promise. Just call me back."

The inbox of the number you are calling is full and can't take any more voicemails.

Cato growled and hurled the phone at the wall opposite him. He was too lost in yelling in frustration to notice how he smashed the poor mobile. His eyes burned with tears and from him rubbing them furiously. Damn him. Damn him.

Knock Knock Knock

Cato glared at the door, as if it was the mahogany door's fault. After making sure the last sign of tears were gone he walked over to it and yanked it open, ready to tear into whoever dared to interrupt him.

There, on the porch, clutching a phone tightly to his chest was-

"Peeta.." Cato said breathlessly, so many emotions swirling around that he didn't know which one to feel first. Anger? Annoyance? Happiness? Before he could actually register an emotion, Peeta launched himself at the older boy. Expecting a fist to the face or be tackled again, Cato closed his eyes and braced himself.

What he didn't expect were two small but surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him and Peeta burying his face in Cato's chest. The older blonde just stared down at the boy who's been plaguing him the past two weeks. He wanted to throttle him, tell him to fuck off. And yet...

Cato slowly returned the embrace, starting with a light hug to a tight, possessive, squeeze and let a comfortable silence fall over them.

"I listened to the voicemails," Peeta mumbled into Cato's chest. Another round of emotions swept over him: Guilt, regret, fear. Not trusting his own voice for a second, the brute took a couple of deep breaths before asking: "Which ones?"

Feeling Peeta move his head from his chest, Cato dared to look down and was suddenly swallowed by the depths of Peeta's blue eyes. Blue eye's that had a bit of red in them and were wet with tears that threaten to spill over. Peeta smiled, and that smile assured Cato that things were going to be okay.

"All of them," He whispered before capturing Cato lips in a desperate kiss that made both men breathless and yearning. As the kiss grew more heated, Cato led a very willing Peeta inside, neither noticing that Peeta had dropped his phone on the porch.

You have no new messages

Wow...I actually finished a fic. It may not be the best, hell I don't even remember writing half of the stuff in it. I hope it's not too crappy I did the best I could without a Beta.

Constructive Criticism would be highly appreciated along with reviews. :)