Suddenly the air breaks and everything falls, it's as if she snapped. He thought that maybe she had changed, times had changed. He was wrong. He watched helplessly as she sobbed. She wouldn't let him touch her.
He finally grew tired of it and stood. He walked into her kitchen, a kitchen he learned over the months. He grabbed two cups and made tea. He came back to her, like always, to find her withering. He set the tea down in front of her, prepared just how she liked it. She sat rubbing her eyes.
She looked at him for a moment. It's almost as if he's given up on her. It's been almost weeks since she's spoken. There's nothing left of her. Just an empty shell.
"I'm going home." He says softly, standing. Running his finger through his blonde hair he walks towards the door. Sighing she murmurs "See you at dinner." But he didn't hear. Then he's gone and she's left alone again. She wants to speak to him she just can't. She pulls her knees to her chest, and like a small child she rocks back and forth.
She looks around her living room. Her father's old hunting jacket lays strewn across an empty chair. Buttercup, an old scruffy cat, lies warming himself in the afternoon sun. Two cups of tea are sitting on her coffee table, but she can't drink. She can't force it down her throat.
She looks around the room for closure, an ending, but she knows she won't find it here. She stands and in the first time in days she walks to the front room. This is the room where I had my meeting with Snow. She thought bitterly. My mother brought us tea and cookies.
"I know about the kiss." She remembers how he had hissed it. Forcing her to believe he knew everything. Everything and anything about her. What time she woke up, when she went to bed, what she ate. Everything.
She shudders involuntarily. Then she notices a book that has a great significance to her. The plant book. The book Peeta and she had worked so earnestly on. She flipped it open to find his delicate drawings. And suddenly she gets an idea, a wonderful brilliant idea. A book about people. More specifically. The people we've lost. She almost smiles. But she doesn't. That would be extremely out of character.
She glances at her bow and arrows. Her finger tips run along the string. She can almost feel her blood quickening in the hunt. She steps quickly out of the room. She's not ready for all of those memories. No one is.
She's sitting on her bed when she hears him come in. She listened to his loud footsteps walk down the hallway. "Katniss? Where are you?"
"Up here!" She said quietly. She watches his head appear at the top of the stairs. Suddenly she sees all of him.
"Katniss," He says softly. Biting his lip he enters the room.
"You can come in." She says quietly. Patting the spot on the bed next to her he sits.
"Are you…" He stops himself. Everyone hates this question now. Especially her. "How are you feeling?" He asks instead.
"Just dandy Peeta."
"You know what I mean." He says rather crossly. She flops down on the bed and sighs.
"I'm sorry. I didn't… I don't even know anymore." She stretches her arms across the bed. She looks at him for a moment. She brings her arms back and folds them over her chest.
"I don't think anybody even knows much of anything anymore." He sighs flopping down next to her. She takes his hand. She feels the warmth radiating off of it and clings to it.
"I'm sorry for this afternoon."
"It's okay. I'm still a little surprised you're speaking." He says, he rolls over on his side to look at her. She looks so small and defenseless.
'Me too." She looks down at the clasped hands.
"Do you still love me Peeta?" She asked softly. It's been months since the war. Almost half a year since her had strangled her.
"I don't know." She can tell he's lying. She can see it buried deep, deep in his azure eyes.
"Okay then." She says shortly. She can't help but feel a little hurt. He used to be so sure of his feelings for her. He used to just pour out his heart to her, not caring if she broke, smashed, and tore it to little pieces. But used to doesn't matter anymore. Used to is past tense. He may never be sure again.
They lay there next to each other for who knows how long. Suddenly knocks echo though out the house. He gives her the small half hearted forced smile and stands. She knows it only Greasy Sae. She doesn't even stand. Not until his voice calls her for dinner. She slumps down the stairs giving Sae a small smile. Sae looks surprised but says nothing.
Sae leaves as quickly as she came. Leaving the two to eat alone. Buttercup, her cat, eyes the blonde boy as he eats. Glancing at the cat he scowls.
"I hate him." He says bitterly, shooting Buttercup a dark look.
The girl laughs, almost choking on her soup. "I never thought he would hate someone more than me." She too almost glares at the cat, but can't bring herself to do it. This was one of the last bits of her sister.
He knows without her saying anything what's wrong. He places a hand over hers and smiles slightly. His eyes still hold that clouded torture look. Hers still have the poor crazed girl gleam. They were lost, tortured, abandoned souls. No one cared enough anymore. The star crossed lovers from district twelve were over and everyone knew it. Everyone knew it was a scam.
Sighing he draws his hand back and continues to eat. He doesn't leave right after dinner like usual. He lingers and personally she doesn't mind it at all. He sorts through letters and finds one from Gale. She attempts to burn it but, being the smart one he is, stops her.
"You need to read it Katniss."
"Why? What good will it do?"
"You need closure. This letter might help." Sighing she takes it back from him.
"You're probably right."
"No, I am right."
She offers tea, which he accepts. She remembers her idea while they're drinking.
"I had an idea. Do you remember my father's plant book?"
"The one I drew pictures for?"
"The very same."
He swallows and looks at her. "What about it?"
"We make a book like that for the people who have died."
His eyes widen. "That's brilliant. Did you come up with that?"
She nods, he smiles at her. Standing and walking to the telephone, he orders what would be needed to make it. She doesn't understand how someone so broken could stand by someone like her. She didn't pretend to know why. She was grateful for him though.
He stood in the doorway watching her. She was beautiful. He truly did know he loved her, but he didn't feel like getting his heart stamped on today. Maybe some other time. He wondered where the question came from.
He probably should know by now to expect anything with her. She ran her own show. But he doesn't learn, does he? He lives a life full of regret. If he hadn't confessed his feelings she would have died happily with Gale. Prim would be alive so would Finnick. Everyone would be. Sometimes he wondered if it was inevitable. If it was meant to happen. His father once told him everything happens for a reason. And if it's meant to be it will be.
Maybe that's why he was reaped. Maybe that's why she kissed him that day. Maybe, maybe, maybe. No one will ever know. Maybe everything they went through was to show how much they loved each other. Maybe they had to go through all of that to be together. Maybe that's how it was meant to be.
He doubts it sometimes. Honestly he really does. Sometimes he just wants to give in and let the nightmares engulf him. Sometimes he just wants everything to stop and sleep forever. But time stands still for no one. The earth wouldn't stop spinning for a silly boy's silly wishes. Silly man now actually. He thinks. I'm eighteen. So is she.
They are now adults. They would be getting jobs and being pressured into engagement, him anyway. He probably would have been engaged to a scratchy, clingy, merchant's daughter. He would've been perfectly unhappy. Just like his father. The only thing actually keeping him there is his children.
My family is dead now anyway. The thought betrays him. He ignored the fact they were dead. If you ignored it, it wasn't there right? Wrong. It was very much there. And the hole in his chest grew bigger the longer he ignored. He wanted to scream. He couldn't remember hardly anything. His head pounded. Clenching his jaw he entered the room.
"I'm going home Katniss." To even him his voice sound broken, mangled, scratched. She looks up at him alarmed.
"Peeta?" She asks softly, standing she makes her way over to him. His eyes don't move from the floor. "Are you…" She inhales they both hated this question and she knew it. "Are you okay?" She wanted to reach out, but didn't quite know how.
"No, no I'm not." His voice sound weak. He's barely holding on now. He desperately wants to be alone. The last thing he wants to do is break down in front of her. Some things you just can't help. His shoulders shake with what she knows is sobs.
She watched as he sinks to the ground head in his hands. She kneels down uncertainly. How different this was. It's usually her being comforted. "Shh… It's okay. It's okay." His breathing becomes rasps, shallow and quick. It's as if he can't get enough air.
"I killed my family, real or not real?" He rasps out. She holds his shoulders, trying desperately.
"Not real! Not real! The capitol killed your family!" She whispers over and over in his ear. It calms him down. His breathing slows and returns to normality. He lifts his head up to look at her. He's still softly crying.
She wipes away his tears, whispering soft words of reassurance. He rests his head on her shoulder and just breathes her in. She wraps uncertain arms around his waist.
"You're gonna be okay Peeta." She whispers after a while.
"No, we both are."
I should explain yes I really should. Okay I woke up at four in the morning opened my computer and just typed. It's a different style then what I usually use but I love writing in third person. Anyway this is basically Peeta and Katniss growing back together. So yeah.