"Turning Tables" An Everlark fic.
A/N: This is my first Hunger Games fic. I tried really hard to capture Katniss' voice correctly. I hope I succeeded. Please enjoy!!!!! WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE BOOKS
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“So I won't let you close enough to hurt me. No, I won't ask you, you to just desert me. I can't give you what you think you gave me. It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables”
-Turning Tables, Adele, 21
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We’re like a set of train tracks, side by side. We follow the same path, fall into the same holes, cross the same bridges, but we never meet. We continue to run parallel to each other. We never go the same place together, Peeta and I.
We continue to dance around each other. Our feelings are out in the open, but we don’t do anything about them. They just hang in the air, heavy and untouched as a thick morning fog. It’s almost suffocating. We both feel the need to reach out, but something stops us. Maybe it’s Peeta’s broken mind that still tries to tell him that I’m the enemy. Maybe it’s my unwillingness to let people in because loving people has done nothing but hurt me. But, there is no denying what I feel for Peeta. I never meant to fall in love, and honestly, in the world I grew up in, I never wanted too. Love, marriage, children, they all seemed impossible in a world full of totalitarianism, hunger, and violence. But, that was before I offered to take my
sister’s place in the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games. That was before I met Peeta Mellark, and he changed everything.
I can’t help but think the distance between the two of us is my fault. Ever since the Rebellion I have been a mess. Sleepless nights, nightmares of memories that are so vivid, feel so real, that cause me to wake up screaming in the dead of night, memories that are plaguing, unrelenting, never fading away, irrational fears of being attacked in the middle of the night, and possibly, most uncharacteristically of all, some days I will spend in a depressive state, putting all of my emotions onto the table, sharing them with almost anyone who will listen.
The only person I can’t seem to share my feelings with, however, is Peeta. In the weeks after we returned to District 12, Peeta’s recovery picked up quickly. Within no time, he was baking again, lavish cakes, delicious bread and cookies that no one could resist. Sometimes he will wrap them up and take them to the families that are just returning to the District. Other times he brings them over to my house, gifting them to me. Despite myself, when he does this, I will sit down and force myself to eat, just so Peeta won’t worry. It’s no use though, he still does.
I know that I can’t push him away forever. My mind keeps telling me that I don’t need him. But my heart knows different. Whenever he’s near, I feel a peace that I don’t feel with anyone else; that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I long for his touch, for him to wrap me in his arms, to feel the gentle touch of his lips against my forehead, and the tenderness he uses when he kisses my lips, but every time that Peeta tries to be affectionate, I shy away from him. I try to force myself to believe that I don’t enjoy his touch. Recently, he’s just stopped trying. Either he realizes I’m not ready, or thinks I’m heartless.
I hate myself for the way that I’m acting. I don’t like hurting him this way. He doesn’t deserve it. He has waited his whole life for me to love him back, and when I finally do, I’m too messed up to even have a proper relationship with him. I know that it’s hurting him. I know that he wishes that I would just open up, but I can’t. I want to. How long is it going to take?
I lay in bed, night is falling outside of my window. It’s still early, the night sky is a still barely a darkened sky blue, just barely sprinkled with stars, but I’m tired. I can
barely keep my eyes open. I pull the warm blankets over me, snuggling into them, wishing that I wasn’t sleeping alone. Peeta sometimes stays on my worst nights, but I had somehow pushed him to where he didn’t try to stay very often. I roll over to the side of the bed that he sometimes occupies and bury my face into his pillow. The soft scent of bread, the faint tint of sugar, the lingering smell of his cologne surround me. I’m so tired that my mind tricks me into thinking that he’s actually there with me and I slowly drift off to sleep.
The most haunting of my memories comes back to me that night. A cold, pale, lifeless Peeta lying in front of me, my frantic attempts to wake him, laying my head to his chest and hearing silence, and then the icy cold feeling of fear washes over me. He’s gone. He’s gone. I hear myself calling his name. It sounds so far away. But it slowly gets louder. The line between what’s real and what’s only a memory blurs. I can’t move, tears stream down my face. I wake with a start, and to my surprise Peeta is here, his strong, muscular arms encasing me. I don’t try to hide my tears from him. I don’t try to act like I’m not scared. I cling to him. My arms slip around his built frame, I burrow my face into his chest. I’m clinging to him as though my life, and his, depended on it.
The memory awakens me from something different than just sleep. My mind is newly awakened to my feelings for Peeta. It remembers now how I felt when I thought that I had lost him. I has felt like a part of me was gone, too. I felt empty. It felt like there was a deep, dark black hole in my chest, sucking me backwards into its depths. I couldn’t survive without him. He had to be okay. If he died, I did too. I would go on living, but I would never be the same. I would be a hopeless, hallow shadow of myself.
That feeling, the feeling that you’ve just lost the thing that you need most in this world to survive, that that thing is gone, it immobilizes you. You are frozen, denial washes over you, cold, unforgiving, trying to numb your emotions. It’s terrifying. You think that you’ll never be able to go on. That’s what I had been doing to myself. I had been pushing Peeta away. I felt a similar feeling all of the time. I can’t push him away anymore, before I lose him forever.
I can hear my own sobs echoing around my room. Peeta’s whispering things to me, sweet, reassuring things, his nose is buried in my hair, his breath gently tickling my ear. His large, strong, hands are rubbing my back. He’s there. He’s breathing. He’s alive, tangible. I haven’t lost my boy with the bread.
I feel my tears finally cease, my breathing is slowing to a normal tempo. I relax into his frame. I need the closeness, I need him. Peeta’s lips press gently against my forehead. My heart flutters. I miss that. Why did I push him away?
Why have I been so afraid of his love? I’ve survived the Games, the Quell. I’ve been bombarded by fireballs, chased by muttations. I’ve survived a Rebellion. I helped changed the world. All along, through all of those things, my bravery never faltered for an instant. So, why, did it cease to exist when it came to love, especially Peeta’s love. Peeta, who loved me, who had always loved, and always would, no matter what.
“Katniss,” he breathes out gently. His nose is still buried in my hair, his large hands still press me against his frame.
At the sound of my name, I unburrow my face from its spot in his chest. I look up at him and instantly his blue eyes lock with mine. I see a longing to comfort me in them, but there’s also an inhibition in his eyes, the one that he uses to hold himself back, the one that I’ve caused him to use in the first place. Guilt washes over me almost instantly. It feels so icy, so cold, that it’s almost numbing. The feeling takes over, consuming my mind, my heart. How could I have pushed him away? How could I continue to act like I didn’t love him?
“Peeta, I’m sorry.”
The words come out before I fully understand why. Almost instantly I know it’s not because of the nightmare, waking him up in the dead of night. It’s because of the way I have been acting. It’s because of what I’ve been doing to our relationship. I know at the same moment, that Peeta won’t understand this. He’s not in my head.
“What are you sorry for, Katniss? You were having a nightmare. I’m guessing it was a pretty horrible one. I could hear you screaming for me from my house. I wasn’t going to leave you alone. You should know that by now. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
His gentleness, his kindness, they never cease to amaze me. I feel tears welling up in my eyes again. Great. The last sign of my bravery is slipping away, but, for once, I don’t care if Peeta sees me breakdown. If anyone would be able to handle my emotions, if there was anyone who wouldn’t judge me for the way I was feeling, it was Peeta.
“It has nothing to do with the nightmare anymore, Peeta,” I say. My voice is strained. It’s like I have to force out every single syllable. It’s almost painful. I keep a close watch on Peeta’s face. He is clearly confused. His handsome face, scrunched up in thought, his eyes narrowed with questioning. I know that now, that I’ve said this, I have to say the rest, even if my words are sticking to my mouth and throat like glue.
“This has to do with you and me. This has to do with the way that I’ve been treating you. I’ve just been pushing you away. You don’t deserve that, Peeta. You deserve for me to open up. You deserve for me to openly care for you…”
Each word hangs in my mouth. It’s a slow, long process. All of the moisture is gone from my throat, my lips, my tongue. I stop for a moment, trying to get my bearings, trying to push myself to finish what I had already started.
“I’ve been really selfish. I haven’t even let myself feel. I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to do this, to open up, but then, tonight I dreamed of that day. It was that day during the Quell when I thought…when I thought…”
I trail off. My voice is cracking. It sounds like a distant whisper. I can’t bring myself to say it to him. Even though I know he’s here now, I can hear him breathing, I can feel his heart beating, I know he’s alive, but I can’t bring myself to say it, or even think it. A sudden realization rushes though me: losing Peeta is my biggest fear.
Peeta seems to understand what I’m trying to say, what memory that has chosen to plague me tonight. He brings his hand up, cupping my cheeks gently. His large thumbs delicately push the tears away. His blue eyes are locked with concentration; an intense gaze of concern is forming in those sparkling pools.
“Katniss,” he whispers. It’s so quiet, so soft, so gentle. He’s speaking only to me. “You have nothing to be sorry for. “I’m going to say it again, you have nothing to be sorry for. I know what’s holding you back. I know you’re trying to recover. I know that you care. I also know how hard it is for you to let people in. I understand. I’ve waited my whole life for you, what is a couple months going to hurt? As for the dream, I’m here, and Katniss? Nothing is going to change that. There’s nothing to take me away from you. Not the Games, not the arena, Snow, Coin, The Capitol, the Rebellion, nothing is taking me away from you.”
Peeta’s eyes are moist with tears. I’m speechless as I watch a drop slip down his cheek, soon followed by another.
The sincerity in is voice is something that used to frighten me. It used to make me question his honest completely. When we first formally met the day of the reaping and he was so kind, so genuine, I thought it was a ploy. When he played the part of telling all of Panem that he was in love with me, I was so angry about him telling what I thought were lies, I shoved him and injured his hands the day before we were to head into the arena. After I dropped the tracker jacker nest onto the Careers and was so delirious from the venom that I hung around even after getting my bow and arrow from Glimmer, Peeta risked his alliance with the Careers to save me. After the Gamemakers announced the new rules, I called out his name. In our final interview after the Games with Ceaser, he mentioned that’s when he thought I had finally fell for Peeta, I had went with the flow, but now, I realize, that was true. Why else would I have done that? I knew how stupid it was, but my feelings, my emotions that I never liked to show had gotten the best of me in that moment.
Peeta saved my life, so I returned the favor. I found him, nursed him back to health in our cave. All of those secrets we shared in the cave, all of those kisses that I later learned were some of the first real blossoming of my feelings for Peeta, I thought it had all been an act, a story that he had created with Haymitch, because if we were madly in love, we had to have a back story, right? But I knew once we got back to District Twelve, by that look on his face when I told him it was all for the Games, that it was all true. It made me feel so guilty. I spent nights that I couldn’t sleep, haunted by nightmares, laying awake thinking about what I did to him.
Why though? I used to ask myself. Why did I care so much? Was it because we were friends? No, that wasn’t it. I had spent the entire first day in the arena, worrying about him. Even if it wasn’t always my main thought, it was always somewhere on my mind. I risked my life to get that medicine for him to save his life. Was that my bravery showing itself or my feelings for Peeta taking control?
As I went days without seeing him, months without kisses, I realized how much I missed him. If it had not been for Gale and his unwillingness to give up, or to let things go, I might have been able to sort out my feelings sooner, before the Quarter Quell. The thing was, not only did I now want to deal with my feelings for Peeta, or my feelings about anything in the Games for that matter, I felt obligated to love Gale in return, I mean he was my best friend, I had known him longer. I want to laugh at the memory. How naïve I was. I may have been smart when it came to survival, and fighting, but I understood nothing about the concept of love. It’s not something that you can choose; it’s not something you can avoid. If it’s meant to be, it will find its way. But Gale, I now realize, never seemed to learn that. He probably didn’t understand why I didn’t return his feelings, because, at the time, I didn’t either. I was the only person in all of Panem that didn’t know I had feelings for Peeta. Everyone knew, including Peeta. No one tried to force me into realizing it though. Not even Peeta.
I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. Being in love with someone that doesn’t love you in return is one thing, but being in love with someone that loves you, but refuses to accept it must be another.
Peeta has been so patient with me. I have yet to even say ‘I love you’. It’s always been that simple exchange of “You love me, real or not real?” with my reply always as “real”. I’ve never initiated any sort affection with him. I won’t take his hand first, hug him first, kiss him; he’s always the one to do it. I’ve still tried to be that naïve sixteen-year-old girl that simply laughed at the idea of love. But, I have to face the facts. I’m a different person now, living in a different world. I have to be brave, like I’ve been so many times before. But this is scary, uncharted territory. I’m terrified.
It’s been a long road to get to this point. The Quell and the Rebellion are largely to blame. I had to keep my mind focused on surviving. I had to be the Mockingjay, the face of the Rebellion. The Quell and the Rebellion could actually be added to the list of the things that helped me realize the way that I feel for Peeta. If I hadn’t thought the Capitol had killed him, if he hadn’t been hijacked, if I hadn’t had to know what it was like to have him there in body, but not in mind. He was Peeta, but not the Peeta that I loved. It killed me. It’s a horrible feeling, to have someone you need so much so close, yet so far out of reach.
It’s not only that. I’ve lost everyone that I considered family, or a friend. I no longer have Prim, that for awhile, was the only person that I truly loved. I lost Finnick, who overtime I had come to see as an almost brotherly figure. I no longer had my mother in my life either. She stayed in District 13. I don’t have Gale either. He’s in District 2 now. He never wants to see me again. I’ve felt so alone, like I had no one left. But I realize, in this moment, how wring that I have been. It’s not true. I have Peeta. I’ve always had Peeta, and I’ve been too blind to realize it.
I reach my own hands up. They are small, almost miniscule compared to Peeta’s. I flatten them out against his cheeks before slowly wiping away the few tears that are still glistening like dew drops in the moonlight on his face. I realize something quickly. I just showed affection. That heavy morning fog is clearing. I’m slowly feeling like I can breathe again.
“Peeta,” I whisper. I try to use the same tone that he used for me earlier, but it comes out to loud, not stable enough. I’m not a master of words like Peeta is, but I’m going to try my best. “I know that it hurts you. You don’t have to hide that from me. I’m screwed up right now. I know that too. You…don’t have to pretend like I’m not. Being a mess, is no excuse for me pushing you away. You’re the one person in this world that…truly…”
I pause, trying to find the right phrase. What was I going to say? I knew I was going to screw this up somehow. I take in a deep breath. I have to finish this. I can do it.
“…understands me, accepts me for who I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t see me as a tribute, The Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay, or a hero. You see me for me, Katniss Everdeen, and…”
I feel like what I want to say next is jammed in my throat. Fear overcomes me almost instantly. Fear for what, I’m not sure. If I’m afraid of rejection, I must be really stupid. Peeta would never reject me. I know that for a fact. What I’m about to say, Peeta needs to hear. I swallow hard, finally ready to say the words.
“And…I love you for that, Peeta.”
I wish that the words had spilled effortlessly from my mouth like I wanted them too. But, it’s not as much as a fumbled mess as it usually is when I try to express my feelings. This is a feat for me. But, then again, when it comes to Peeta, I can do impossible things. My emotions show themselves. I can be myself with no reservations.
Peeta’s blue eyes are suddenly shining but it’s with something different than tears. This time, there is a glint of happiness. The tears that flow from his eyes now are ones of
joy. I know how long he’s waited to hear me say the actual words instead of our usual ‘real or not real’ bit. While it worked for me, and for awhile, worked for Peeta, I know that Peeta needed the actual words. I had just been afraid of it. My feeling for Peeta seem to be far out weighing my fears now.
“Katniss,” he whispers. There’s no denying the tone in his voice. Doubt. Can I really blame him? I would have to question it too. “You just said that you loved me.”
“Yes,” I whisper in reply. While I still feel like my words are sticking to my throat, the words come easier to me this time, they come out more like I plan for them too. “I did, and I meant it, Peeta. I can’t push you away forever…I…I don’t want to. I know that this sounds cheesy, but, I can’t survive without you. I need you. I love you.”
I feel a blush creeping across my cheeks. He’s watching my closely, examining me, as if trying to remember everything about this moment. I feel incompetent with words when it comes to him. “I’m talking in circles. I’m sorry.”
I look down at my hands. There is a mere whisper of my name as Peeta takes my chin lightly in his fingers, then gently lifts my head. His crystal clear, blue eyes lock with mine for a moment. I feel like my heart is beating in my throat. His gaze is so full of love and understanding. That’s the Peeta I fell for. That’s the one I’ve always loved, even when I didn’t realize it.
Before I have time to fully register what is happening, Peeta’s lips have claimed my own, capturing them in a soft, gentle kiss. It’s full of longing, but it’s not desperate. Peeta’s fingers, that have been holding my chin, slide across the skin of my cheek until his hand is encasing it. His other hand slides down my spine, sending pleasant shivers through my body. He reaches my lower back, rests his hands there, and presses my body against his.
I feel like my heart is beating a million miles an hour. I feel like I’m back in the cave cuddled up in out sleeping bag, admitting feelings I once believed were false, exchanging simple kisses, to long lingering ones. But, this kiss is more like the one we shared on the beach during the Quarter Quell, the one that made me feel alive, awakened my senses to feelings I never knew existed, the one that left me needing so much more. But, this kiss, our lips moving gently, yet not hesitant, exploring the depths of a kiss like we never have before. It feels like we’re kissing for the very first time. We’re both aware of our feelings no, we’re both willing to give, and to take.
Too soon it seems, Peeta pulls away. I suddenly feel empty. I miss the feeling of his lips pressed against mine, but we need to breathe. I realize this when I hear Peeta’s low, shallow breaths, feel my own chest heaving for air, see Peeta’s cheeks flushed pink.
He doesn’t take his hands away from my cheek. His thumb gently strokes the skin of my cheek. I find myself leaning into his touch. I’m unable to shy away, and for the first time, I find that I don’t want too.
We are silent for a long time, simply exchanging looks, mine is one I’m sure that I’ve tried to keep hidden, of love. Peeta’s is a mix between love and pure happiness. His dazzling white smile as yet to fade away. Seeing him happy makes my heart feel like it’s singing.
“Katniss,” Peeta finally whispers, breaking the silence. “Don’t worry about talking in circles. I know how you feel. You’re not a woman of words, I realize that. You can show me with you actions if you must.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper in reply. “I plan on it.”
His smile grows even wider at this. “I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”
“I love you, too, Peeta Mellark. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
We had been dancing around each other for far too long, walking the same path, writing the same story, omitting the other. I see now that my omission of Peeta was by choice, Peeta’s was by submission. The heavy morning fog that has been clouding my mind for so long is finally fading away. I can breathe properly again. I can see the light shining on the horizon. The dawn was breaking on a new day, shining a fresh light on our relationship.
I never planned on falling in love, but like I said, everything is different when it comes to Peeta. My fear that I might actually care for someone that wasn’t my family held me back, my unwillingness to put myself first, my stubbron nature kept me from wanting to admit that what I felt for Peeta was real.
It’s been a long and hard road to get to this point. We have outweighed all the odds. They had definitely been in our favor. It’s a miracle that we’re both even alive today to get to this point. We have been so close to losing each other so many times that I’m sure that whatever it takes to stay safe now. It won’t be as hard as it once was, and that’s a relief. Peeta and I can be happy and safe, living a semi-normal life, and I can’t wait to get it started.
Peeta’s lips capture mine again and I can’t help but smile into the kiss, because for the first time since the Rebellion, I feel happy.
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“So I won't let you close enough to hurt me. No, I won't ask you, you to just desert me. I can't give you what you think you gave me. It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables”
-Turning Tables, Adele, 21
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We’re like a set of train tracks, side by side. We follow the same path, fall into the same holes, cross the same bridges, but we never meet. We continue to run parallel to each other. We never go the same place together, Peeta and I.
We continue to dance around each other. Our feelings are out in the open, but we don’t do anything about them. They just hang in the air, heavy and untouched as a thick morning fog. It’s almost suffocating. We both feel the need to reach out, but something stops us. Maybe it’s Peeta’s broken mind that still tries to tell him that I’m the enemy. Maybe it’s my unwillingness to let people in because loving people has done nothing but hurt me. But, there is no denying what I feel for Peeta. I never meant to fall in love, and honestly, in the world I grew up in, I never wanted too. Love, marriage, children, they all seemed impossible in a world full of totalitarianism, hunger, and violence. But, that was before I offered to take my
sister’s place in the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games. That was before I met Peeta Mellark, and he changed everything.
I can’t help but think the distance between the two of us is my fault. Ever since the Rebellion I have been a mess. Sleepless nights, nightmares of memories that are so vivid, feel so real, that cause me to wake up screaming in the dead of night, memories that are plaguing, unrelenting, never fading away, irrational fears of being attacked in the middle of the night, and possibly, most uncharacteristically of all, some days I will spend in a depressive state, putting all of my emotions onto the table, sharing them with almost anyone who will listen.
The only person I can’t seem to share my feelings with, however, is Peeta. In the weeks after we returned to District 12, Peeta’s recovery picked up quickly. Within no time, he was baking again, lavish cakes, delicious bread and cookies that no one could resist. Sometimes he will wrap them up and take them to the families that are just returning to the District. Other times he brings them over to my house, gifting them to me. Despite myself, when he does this, I will sit down and force myself to eat, just so Peeta won’t worry. It’s no use though, he still does.
I know that I can’t push him away forever. My mind keeps telling me that I don’t need him. But my heart knows different. Whenever he’s near, I feel a peace that I don’t feel with anyone else; that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I long for his touch, for him to wrap me in his arms, to feel the gentle touch of his lips against my forehead, and the tenderness he uses when he kisses my lips, but every time that Peeta tries to be affectionate, I shy away from him. I try to force myself to believe that I don’t enjoy his touch. Recently, he’s just stopped trying. Either he realizes I’m not ready, or thinks I’m heartless.
I hate myself for the way that I’m acting. I don’t like hurting him this way. He doesn’t deserve it. He has waited his whole life for me to love him back, and when I finally do, I’m too messed up to even have a proper relationship with him. I know that it’s hurting him. I know that he wishes that I would just open up, but I can’t. I want to. How long is it going to take?
I lay in bed, night is falling outside of my window. It’s still early, the night sky is a still barely a darkened sky blue, just barely sprinkled with stars, but I’m tired. I can
barely keep my eyes open. I pull the warm blankets over me, snuggling into them, wishing that I wasn’t sleeping alone. Peeta sometimes stays on my worst nights, but I had somehow pushed him to where he didn’t try to stay very often. I roll over to the side of the bed that he sometimes occupies and bury my face into his pillow. The soft scent of bread, the faint tint of sugar, the lingering smell of his cologne surround me. I’m so tired that my mind tricks me into thinking that he’s actually there with me and I slowly drift off to sleep.
The most haunting of my memories comes back to me that night. A cold, pale, lifeless Peeta lying in front of me, my frantic attempts to wake him, laying my head to his chest and hearing silence, and then the icy cold feeling of fear washes over me. He’s gone. He’s gone. I hear myself calling his name. It sounds so far away. But it slowly gets louder. The line between what’s real and what’s only a memory blurs. I can’t move, tears stream down my face. I wake with a start, and to my surprise Peeta is here, his strong, muscular arms encasing me. I don’t try to hide my tears from him. I don’t try to act like I’m not scared. I cling to him. My arms slip around his built frame, I burrow my face into his chest. I’m clinging to him as though my life, and his, depended on it.
The memory awakens me from something different than just sleep. My mind is newly awakened to my feelings for Peeta. It remembers now how I felt when I thought that I had lost him. I has felt like a part of me was gone, too. I felt empty. It felt like there was a deep, dark black hole in my chest, sucking me backwards into its depths. I couldn’t survive without him. He had to be okay. If he died, I did too. I would go on living, but I would never be the same. I would be a hopeless, hallow shadow of myself.
That feeling, the feeling that you’ve just lost the thing that you need most in this world to survive, that that thing is gone, it immobilizes you. You are frozen, denial washes over you, cold, unforgiving, trying to numb your emotions. It’s terrifying. You think that you’ll never be able to go on. That’s what I had been doing to myself. I had been pushing Peeta away. I felt a similar feeling all of the time. I can’t push him away anymore, before I lose him forever.
I can hear my own sobs echoing around my room. Peeta’s whispering things to me, sweet, reassuring things, his nose is buried in my hair, his breath gently tickling my ear. His large, strong, hands are rubbing my back. He’s there. He’s breathing. He’s alive, tangible. I haven’t lost my boy with the bread.
I feel my tears finally cease, my breathing is slowing to a normal tempo. I relax into his frame. I need the closeness, I need him. Peeta’s lips press gently against my forehead. My heart flutters. I miss that. Why did I push him away?
Why have I been so afraid of his love? I’ve survived the Games, the Quell. I’ve been bombarded by fireballs, chased by muttations. I’ve survived a Rebellion. I helped changed the world. All along, through all of those things, my bravery never faltered for an instant. So, why, did it cease to exist when it came to love, especially Peeta’s love. Peeta, who loved me, who had always loved, and always would, no matter what.
“Katniss,” he breathes out gently. His nose is still buried in my hair, his large hands still press me against his frame.
At the sound of my name, I unburrow my face from its spot in his chest. I look up at him and instantly his blue eyes lock with mine. I see a longing to comfort me in them, but there’s also an inhibition in his eyes, the one that he uses to hold himself back, the one that I’ve caused him to use in the first place. Guilt washes over me almost instantly. It feels so icy, so cold, that it’s almost numbing. The feeling takes over, consuming my mind, my heart. How could I have pushed him away? How could I continue to act like I didn’t love him?
“Peeta, I’m sorry.”
The words come out before I fully understand why. Almost instantly I know it’s not because of the nightmare, waking him up in the dead of night. It’s because of the way I have been acting. It’s because of what I’ve been doing to our relationship. I know at the same moment, that Peeta won’t understand this. He’s not in my head.
“What are you sorry for, Katniss? You were having a nightmare. I’m guessing it was a pretty horrible one. I could hear you screaming for me from my house. I wasn’t going to leave you alone. You should know that by now. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
His gentleness, his kindness, they never cease to amaze me. I feel tears welling up in my eyes again. Great. The last sign of my bravery is slipping away, but, for once, I don’t care if Peeta sees me breakdown. If anyone would be able to handle my emotions, if there was anyone who wouldn’t judge me for the way I was feeling, it was Peeta.
“It has nothing to do with the nightmare anymore, Peeta,” I say. My voice is strained. It’s like I have to force out every single syllable. It’s almost painful. I keep a close watch on Peeta’s face. He is clearly confused. His handsome face, scrunched up in thought, his eyes narrowed with questioning. I know that now, that I’ve said this, I have to say the rest, even if my words are sticking to my mouth and throat like glue.
“This has to do with you and me. This has to do with the way that I’ve been treating you. I’ve just been pushing you away. You don’t deserve that, Peeta. You deserve for me to open up. You deserve for me to openly care for you…”
Each word hangs in my mouth. It’s a slow, long process. All of the moisture is gone from my throat, my lips, my tongue. I stop for a moment, trying to get my bearings, trying to push myself to finish what I had already started.
“I’ve been really selfish. I haven’t even let myself feel. I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to do this, to open up, but then, tonight I dreamed of that day. It was that day during the Quell when I thought…when I thought…”
I trail off. My voice is cracking. It sounds like a distant whisper. I can’t bring myself to say it to him. Even though I know he’s here now, I can hear him breathing, I can feel his heart beating, I know he’s alive, but I can’t bring myself to say it, or even think it. A sudden realization rushes though me: losing Peeta is my biggest fear.
Peeta seems to understand what I’m trying to say, what memory that has chosen to plague me tonight. He brings his hand up, cupping my cheeks gently. His large thumbs delicately push the tears away. His blue eyes are locked with concentration; an intense gaze of concern is forming in those sparkling pools.
“Katniss,” he whispers. It’s so quiet, so soft, so gentle. He’s speaking only to me. “You have nothing to be sorry for. “I’m going to say it again, you have nothing to be sorry for. I know what’s holding you back. I know you’re trying to recover. I know that you care. I also know how hard it is for you to let people in. I understand. I’ve waited my whole life for you, what is a couple months going to hurt? As for the dream, I’m here, and Katniss? Nothing is going to change that. There’s nothing to take me away from you. Not the Games, not the arena, Snow, Coin, The Capitol, the Rebellion, nothing is taking me away from you.”
Peeta’s eyes are moist with tears. I’m speechless as I watch a drop slip down his cheek, soon followed by another.
The sincerity in is voice is something that used to frighten me. It used to make me question his honest completely. When we first formally met the day of the reaping and he was so kind, so genuine, I thought it was a ploy. When he played the part of telling all of Panem that he was in love with me, I was so angry about him telling what I thought were lies, I shoved him and injured his hands the day before we were to head into the arena. After I dropped the tracker jacker nest onto the Careers and was so delirious from the venom that I hung around even after getting my bow and arrow from Glimmer, Peeta risked his alliance with the Careers to save me. After the Gamemakers announced the new rules, I called out his name. In our final interview after the Games with Ceaser, he mentioned that’s when he thought I had finally fell for Peeta, I had went with the flow, but now, I realize, that was true. Why else would I have done that? I knew how stupid it was, but my feelings, my emotions that I never liked to show had gotten the best of me in that moment.
Peeta saved my life, so I returned the favor. I found him, nursed him back to health in our cave. All of those secrets we shared in the cave, all of those kisses that I later learned were some of the first real blossoming of my feelings for Peeta, I thought it had all been an act, a story that he had created with Haymitch, because if we were madly in love, we had to have a back story, right? But I knew once we got back to District Twelve, by that look on his face when I told him it was all for the Games, that it was all true. It made me feel so guilty. I spent nights that I couldn’t sleep, haunted by nightmares, laying awake thinking about what I did to him.
Why though? I used to ask myself. Why did I care so much? Was it because we were friends? No, that wasn’t it. I had spent the entire first day in the arena, worrying about him. Even if it wasn’t always my main thought, it was always somewhere on my mind. I risked my life to get that medicine for him to save his life. Was that my bravery showing itself or my feelings for Peeta taking control?
As I went days without seeing him, months without kisses, I realized how much I missed him. If it had not been for Gale and his unwillingness to give up, or to let things go, I might have been able to sort out my feelings sooner, before the Quarter Quell. The thing was, not only did I now want to deal with my feelings for Peeta, or my feelings about anything in the Games for that matter, I felt obligated to love Gale in return, I mean he was my best friend, I had known him longer. I want to laugh at the memory. How naïve I was. I may have been smart when it came to survival, and fighting, but I understood nothing about the concept of love. It’s not something that you can choose; it’s not something you can avoid. If it’s meant to be, it will find its way. But Gale, I now realize, never seemed to learn that. He probably didn’t understand why I didn’t return his feelings, because, at the time, I didn’t either. I was the only person in all of Panem that didn’t know I had feelings for Peeta. Everyone knew, including Peeta. No one tried to force me into realizing it though. Not even Peeta.
I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. Being in love with someone that doesn’t love you in return is one thing, but being in love with someone that loves you, but refuses to accept it must be another.
Peeta has been so patient with me. I have yet to even say ‘I love you’. It’s always been that simple exchange of “You love me, real or not real?” with my reply always as “real”. I’ve never initiated any sort affection with him. I won’t take his hand first, hug him first, kiss him; he’s always the one to do it. I’ve still tried to be that naïve sixteen-year-old girl that simply laughed at the idea of love. But, I have to face the facts. I’m a different person now, living in a different world. I have to be brave, like I’ve been so many times before. But this is scary, uncharted territory. I’m terrified.
It’s been a long road to get to this point. The Quell and the Rebellion are largely to blame. I had to keep my mind focused on surviving. I had to be the Mockingjay, the face of the Rebellion. The Quell and the Rebellion could actually be added to the list of the things that helped me realize the way that I feel for Peeta. If I hadn’t thought the Capitol had killed him, if he hadn’t been hijacked, if I hadn’t had to know what it was like to have him there in body, but not in mind. He was Peeta, but not the Peeta that I loved. It killed me. It’s a horrible feeling, to have someone you need so much so close, yet so far out of reach.
It’s not only that. I’ve lost everyone that I considered family, or a friend. I no longer have Prim, that for awhile, was the only person that I truly loved. I lost Finnick, who overtime I had come to see as an almost brotherly figure. I no longer had my mother in my life either. She stayed in District 13. I don’t have Gale either. He’s in District 2 now. He never wants to see me again. I’ve felt so alone, like I had no one left. But I realize, in this moment, how wring that I have been. It’s not true. I have Peeta. I’ve always had Peeta, and I’ve been too blind to realize it.
I reach my own hands up. They are small, almost miniscule compared to Peeta’s. I flatten them out against his cheeks before slowly wiping away the few tears that are still glistening like dew drops in the moonlight on his face. I realize something quickly. I just showed affection. That heavy morning fog is clearing. I’m slowly feeling like I can breathe again.
“Peeta,” I whisper. I try to use the same tone that he used for me earlier, but it comes out to loud, not stable enough. I’m not a master of words like Peeta is, but I’m going to try my best. “I know that it hurts you. You don’t have to hide that from me. I’m screwed up right now. I know that too. You…don’t have to pretend like I’m not. Being a mess, is no excuse for me pushing you away. You’re the one person in this world that…truly…”
I pause, trying to find the right phrase. What was I going to say? I knew I was going to screw this up somehow. I take in a deep breath. I have to finish this. I can do it.
“…understands me, accepts me for who I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t see me as a tribute, The Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay, or a hero. You see me for me, Katniss Everdeen, and…”
I feel like what I want to say next is jammed in my throat. Fear overcomes me almost instantly. Fear for what, I’m not sure. If I’m afraid of rejection, I must be really stupid. Peeta would never reject me. I know that for a fact. What I’m about to say, Peeta needs to hear. I swallow hard, finally ready to say the words.
“And…I love you for that, Peeta.”
I wish that the words had spilled effortlessly from my mouth like I wanted them too. But, it’s not as much as a fumbled mess as it usually is when I try to express my feelings. This is a feat for me. But, then again, when it comes to Peeta, I can do impossible things. My emotions show themselves. I can be myself with no reservations.
Peeta’s blue eyes are suddenly shining but it’s with something different than tears. This time, there is a glint of happiness. The tears that flow from his eyes now are ones of
joy. I know how long he’s waited to hear me say the actual words instead of our usual ‘real or not real’ bit. While it worked for me, and for awhile, worked for Peeta, I know that Peeta needed the actual words. I had just been afraid of it. My feeling for Peeta seem to be far out weighing my fears now.
“Katniss,” he whispers. There’s no denying the tone in his voice. Doubt. Can I really blame him? I would have to question it too. “You just said that you loved me.”
“Yes,” I whisper in reply. While I still feel like my words are sticking to my throat, the words come easier to me this time, they come out more like I plan for them too. “I did, and I meant it, Peeta. I can’t push you away forever…I…I don’t want to. I know that this sounds cheesy, but, I can’t survive without you. I need you. I love you.”
I feel a blush creeping across my cheeks. He’s watching my closely, examining me, as if trying to remember everything about this moment. I feel incompetent with words when it comes to him. “I’m talking in circles. I’m sorry.”
I look down at my hands. There is a mere whisper of my name as Peeta takes my chin lightly in his fingers, then gently lifts my head. His crystal clear, blue eyes lock with mine for a moment. I feel like my heart is beating in my throat. His gaze is so full of love and understanding. That’s the Peeta I fell for. That’s the one I’ve always loved, even when I didn’t realize it.
Before I have time to fully register what is happening, Peeta’s lips have claimed my own, capturing them in a soft, gentle kiss. It’s full of longing, but it’s not desperate. Peeta’s fingers, that have been holding my chin, slide across the skin of my cheek until his hand is encasing it. His other hand slides down my spine, sending pleasant shivers through my body. He reaches my lower back, rests his hands there, and presses my body against his.
I feel like my heart is beating a million miles an hour. I feel like I’m back in the cave cuddled up in out sleeping bag, admitting feelings I once believed were false, exchanging simple kisses, to long lingering ones. But, this kiss is more like the one we shared on the beach during the Quarter Quell, the one that made me feel alive, awakened my senses to feelings I never knew existed, the one that left me needing so much more. But, this kiss, our lips moving gently, yet not hesitant, exploring the depths of a kiss like we never have before. It feels like we’re kissing for the very first time. We’re both aware of our feelings no, we’re both willing to give, and to take.
Too soon it seems, Peeta pulls away. I suddenly feel empty. I miss the feeling of his lips pressed against mine, but we need to breathe. I realize this when I hear Peeta’s low, shallow breaths, feel my own chest heaving for air, see Peeta’s cheeks flushed pink.
He doesn’t take his hands away from my cheek. His thumb gently strokes the skin of my cheek. I find myself leaning into his touch. I’m unable to shy away, and for the first time, I find that I don’t want too.
We are silent for a long time, simply exchanging looks, mine is one I’m sure that I’ve tried to keep hidden, of love. Peeta’s is a mix between love and pure happiness. His dazzling white smile as yet to fade away. Seeing him happy makes my heart feel like it’s singing.
“Katniss,” Peeta finally whispers, breaking the silence. “Don’t worry about talking in circles. I know how you feel. You’re not a woman of words, I realize that. You can show me with you actions if you must.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper in reply. “I plan on it.”
His smile grows even wider at this. “I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”
“I love you, too, Peeta Mellark. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
We had been dancing around each other for far too long, walking the same path, writing the same story, omitting the other. I see now that my omission of Peeta was by choice, Peeta’s was by submission. The heavy morning fog that has been clouding my mind for so long is finally fading away. I can breathe properly again. I can see the light shining on the horizon. The dawn was breaking on a new day, shining a fresh light on our relationship.
I never planned on falling in love, but like I said, everything is different when it comes to Peeta. My fear that I might actually care for someone that wasn’t my family held me back, my unwillingness to put myself first, my stubbron nature kept me from wanting to admit that what I felt for Peeta was real.
It’s been a long and hard road to get to this point. We have outweighed all the odds. They had definitely been in our favor. It’s a miracle that we’re both even alive today to get to this point. We have been so close to losing each other so many times that I’m sure that whatever it takes to stay safe now. It won’t be as hard as it once was, and that’s a relief. Peeta and I can be happy and safe, living a semi-normal life, and I can’t wait to get it started.
Peeta’s lips capture mine again and I can’t help but smile into the kiss, because for the first time since the Rebellion, I feel happy.