Chapter Text
I wake up screaming and gasping for air. It’s still dark outside. Though I always expect them, I’ll never get used to the nightmares. Tonight I lived through it again. Seeing Prim die. I knew this was coming as soon as I saw that primrose in the plant book. I see it often. I try to catch my breath as the tears start pouring from my eyes. I sit up and hug my knees to my chest, knowing I won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.
Then he appears in my bedroom doorway. I didn’t even hear him come into the house.
“Peeta?”
I’m sure he’s heard me screaming at night before, but this is the first time he has come to check on me. Is he checking on me because I had a bad day? Or could it be that I’m still dreaming?
“I heard you screaming. Nightmare?”
He’s still standing in the doorway, and I can faintly make out that he’s still wearing the same clothes he left my house in. I see him glance toward my open window which he must have heard me through.
“Yes, I’m sorry if I woke you,” I say with a strained voice.
“I was awake actually, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. Because I don’t. I don’t want to think about that look on Prim’s face ever again.
“Okay. Goodnight,” he says, as he turns to leave.
“Wait!” I say without thinking. It’s selfish, but I don’t want him to leave. He turns back to look at me with a concerned expression.
“Yeah?”
“What – why were you still awake?”
“Oh – I uh, I couldn’t sleep. So I started sketching, and once I start, I can’t stop,” he says, scratching his head and looking down. I know he still has nightmares too. At least once a week, dark circles sit under his eyes when he comes over for breakfast. It’s not something we talk about, but rather an unspoken understanding. I’m sure I look unrested more often than not.
“What were you sketching?” I ask gently, not sure what to say.
“I started on the drawing of Prim for you,” he whispers. “I had the image of her smiling so clear in my mind, so I had to get started on it to make sure I got it right.”
Though I see parts of the old Peeta, the real Peeta, more and more every day, in his kindness, his generosity, his smile, and his bright blue eyes, I know this is the closest I’ve seen him be completely himself in a long time. The kind, selfless, gentle boy that he is.
And it’s in this moment in my half-awake consciousness that I know it’s safe to ask him. So, I do.
“Will you stay?”
I see his face change from concern to relief, almost like he wanted me to ask. It’s no secret that we both sleep better with each other.
“Yes, of course,” he says gently, but he makes no move toward the bed.
“It’s just that – I should go change. And wash my hands. They’re pretty dirty from the pencils. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
I nod, and he slips out of the room. I stay still, hugging my knees to my chest, and looking down at my bed. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve stepped over a line. Peeta and I, despite everything, have grown comfortable with each other since the end of the war. But I know this comfort is fragile. I know he has triggers as much as I do. And his triggers make him see things I can’t even comprehend. We haven’t discussed our boundaries – what’s safe and what’s not?
Before I know it, Peeta interrupts my thoughts and appears again in my bedroom door. I look up at him. He’s changed into more comfortable clothes. He approaches the bed cautiously like he’s waiting for a signal from me. I scoot to my right to make room for him. He sits at the edge of the bed for a second before laying down. I can tell he’s treading lightly, letting me set the pace. I scoot closer to him, lay my head on his shoulder, and we both sigh as we relax into each other. He wraps his arm around me, and I close my eyes. It’s not quite my preferred spot on his chest, but it will do for tonight. I don’t want to push it, and I know I’ll be able to go back to sleep now with him here.
Although I don’t know what Peeta feels for me anymore, I know that he must feel the same way. I saw it in his face when I asked him to stay. We simply sleep better when we’re next to each other, and we understand each other like nobody else.
“Thank you,” I tell him just as I’m on the brink of sleep.
“Always.”
~
I wake up alone and late. I can tell by how much the sunrise is shining through my window. Peeta must have climbed out of the bed at some point. And I, despite usually being a light sleeper, always feeling like I’m on watch, didn’t wake up at all. For the first time in months, I feel well-rested. Although part of me is a little sad to wake up alone.
I pull myself out of bed and get myself ready for the day. Today, unlike yesterday, will be a perfect day for hunting. A perfect day to keep myself distracted. When I get downstairs, Peeta and Haymitch are already eating and whispering to each other. They both look up at me with concern as I descend down the stairs.
“We waited for you for a little bit, but you were sleeping so well, I didn’t want to wake you,” Peeta says as he’s getting up to grab me a plate, and I notice he’s not in his sleep clothes.
“Oh, that’s okay. Thank you,” I reply and look at him gratefully. He gives me a small smile.
Peeta and Haymitch talk more about the rebuilding of the town. Haymitch says that Thom and his crew have cleared all of the rubble and are going to start building soon. I just listen. Usually, Peeta will ask me something, try to get me to talk, or touch my hand, but not today.
It’s like any other day, except it’s not. We’re doing what we normally do, but they’re both being cautious, not only in their words but in their mannerisms too. None of us acknowledges that Peeta slept here last night. I’m not even sure if Peeta told Haymitch. By the way they were whispering to each other, I assume he did. And although it’s nice to be spared Haymitch’s sarcastic comments, I can’t help but wonder if I truly did step over a line last night with Peeta.
Without a word, I grab all of our plates and start cleaning up. They both look at me as soon as I move, like they’re waiting for me to explode. I just carry on. Peeta gets up too, and cleans up the rest of the kitchen while I wash the dishes.
Haymitch leaves muttering something I don’t quite catch, and Peeta and I are left alone.
“Thank you for staying last night,” I say, breaking the silence. “It was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”
“Me too,” he says quietly, looking away. “Well, I know you want to get to the woods, so I’ll see you for dinner.”
I nod, and he slips out the front door. I stay frozen for a few seconds, confused. I must have crossed a boundary last night. He was so normal yesterday, and today, he feels distant.
Before I let myself think about it too much, I grab my father’s hunting jacket, my game bag, my bow, and my quiver of arrows, and walk out the door. The brisk spring air surrounds me as I make my way to the fence that’s never electrified anymore. I wonder if Thom and his crew will ever just take it down entirely.
In the woods, I feel at home. I haven’t been able to bring myself to set snares. I haven’t allowed myself to mourn the loss of my hunting partner. I’ve been too busy grieving everyone else. Those that are truly gone and not just gone from my life. I’ve figured out how to be okay with hunting alone. It’s the only option. The alternative is unthinkable. So everything I catch is shot, not trapped.
I don’t even feel Gale’s presence in the woods anymore. But I do feel my father’s, and it’s comforting. I’m doing exactly what he taught me to do – feed myself, survive on my own. I don’t need a hunting partner anymore.
I shoot a few squirrels, gather some herbs and berries, and then come across some wild turkeys. Sae will be able to make a whole turkey last a while, so I shoot one, and then rest on a log. After eating a few berries, I decide to walk to the lake. I haven’t been in a while, and it feels almost like meeting my father there – this was our place.
The walk doesn’t take too long because I don’t stop to rest. When Sae was still checking in on me, I wasn’t eating much. Just enough to stay alive. Enough to get rid of the pain in my stomach. After the war, I didn’t want to live. On bad days, I still don’t. But, she wouldn’t let me completely starve myself. So, I was weak.
But when I finally started answering Dr. Aurelius’ calls a few months ago, he told me to make lists. A list of anything good I’ve ever seen someone do. A list of my favorite things. A list of all the people I’ve lost. You’re still here, Katniss. You can’t waste that, he’d said to me. And I realized he was right. So, I started eating more and hunting again. And in the few months that Peeta has been back in District 12, I’ve regained a lot of strength. It must be all the fresh bread.
I sit in the grass and listen to the water. This has always been the most beautiful place to me. Peeta would love it here – he’s always had an eye for beautiful things.
Here, it’s safe. Here, I can allow myself to think of Peeta and why he acted so distant earlier. I conclude that maybe he’s confused. Confused about what we are to each other. And the truth is that I am too. As selfish as it is, I haven’t allowed myself to think about what I feel for Peeta.
I knew I'd misjudged you. That you do love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him .
Finnick’s words ring through my mind, and I can’t help but think about how much has changed and how much has remained exactly the same since the war ended. I love Peeta. That much I know. He is my family now, along with Haymitch. But in what way? I still haven’t figured that part out. Maybe if I knew how he felt, I could sort it out.
I know I would do anything for him. Anything to protect him and keep him alive. And that he would do the same for me. He’s proven that to me time and time again – despite the hijacking and all. I know he’ll care for me in however I need him to. I know that I enjoy kissing him, even though I haven’t kissed him since the war, when I pulled him out of a flashback. But despite all of this, I don’t know if he loves me like he once did. He certainly doesn’t make the loving comments he once did – before the hijacking.
Or maybe he’s just having a bad day, and I’m overthinking it. Maybe he had a flashback before I woke up. We both have bad days. I’m sure he thought I seemed not all there after the plant book incident yesterday.
I look up after being deep in my thoughts and realize it must be mid-afternoon by now. The sun is starting to set, and I recognize the muted orange as Peeta’s favorite color. I should head back soon before it gets too dark. So I start the trek back to Victor’s Village. Sae and her granddaughter are living in one of the houses, so I stop by there to drop off the turkey.
“You’re too good to me, girl,” she says when I turn to leave.
As I approach my house, I see Peeta walk out of his front door with a loaf of bread. He must be coming over to start dinner. We exchange waves. When I get up to my porch, I wait for him. He eyes my game bag.
“So, what’s for dinner tonight?” He asks as we’re walking in.
“Squirrel, again. But I gave Sae a turkey, so maybe she’ll bring us some tomorrow,” I reply.
Without a word, he grabs my game bag and starts dinner. I notice he’s still quieter than usual. He usually asks me more about the woods.
I go upstairs to clean myself up. I take a quick shower and leave my hair down to dry. My hair has grown back to its previous length before patches of it were burned off in the fire. Sae gave me a haircut a couple months ago to even it out, and for the first time in months, I feel like I finally look like myself again, for the most part. My scars are fading, though I don’t think they’ll ever fully go away.
When I get downstairs, Peeta is clutching the counter, and his eyes are squeezed shut.