DISCLAIMER: I do not own THE HUNGER GAMES. But GOD, do I wish I did. BOO.
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It was one of Peeta's bad days again, and I knew today I couldn't just reach for my bow and run. Today I had to stay. Today he actually he hit me. I felt the lump rise and swell around my eye, and through the black spots I could see a small hint of regret and recognition in Peeta's blue orbs. He reached for the chair and squeezed the wood hard to regain control of his body, his mind. His knuckles had turned white and I could hear the wood splintering beneath his iron grip. "Peeta?" I whispered. He shook his head, "No, Katniss. Get back." I knew that if I listened he might not return to me, my boy with the bread.
I reached forward, conscious of the building headache and dizziness, and ran my thumb down his cheek and across his chin. He closed his eyes, and begged for me to move back. But I couldn't. I stay froze to the spot wishing desperately for this turmoil to end. Then he opened his eyes and I knew he had lost the battle. His eyes were the unusual dark colour that appeared regularly in my nightmares, a contrast to the light and happy sky blue that were the centre point of my dreams. He lurched forward causing me to stumble into his easel. I reach back, my fingers clumsily fumbling along his desk for something to defend myself with. I knew that I could never use it against him, but I could use it as a deterrent. My fingers come across a stick and I grip it till I feel the blood almost completely gone from my finger ends. All the while, Peeta was screaming in my face, I couldn't stop the tears from brimming over and my lip from quivering. He leaned in close, and this proximity was normal for us. The malicious look in his eye and the sheer terror I could feel bubbling in my stomach was not. "MUTT!" He roared and lunged for my neck.
My hand that was holding the stick shot up like lightening – covering Peeta in orange paint.
"Orange," he breathed, wiping away a drop from his cheek and looking at it curiously. The dark edge to his eyes wavering.
"Like a.."
"Sunset." He finished. "Orange like a sunset." He reached up with his finger that was covered with paint. I flinched away, dubious as to whether he was caressing me or attacking me.
I held my breath, petrified of disturbing him. One single thing could turn him back into the Capitol's beast. His finger traced beneath my good eye, down my cheek and under my lip. He reached behind me and came back with a globule of blue paint on his index finger. I slowly let out the breath was holding and began to breathe normally. His fingers were moving quickly and effortlessly now, gliding along the contours of my arm, lifting up my shirt to slide past my navel. All the while he was murmuring things about himself. "My favourite colour is orange. Katniss' is green. I double knot my shoe laces. I don't take sugar in my tea. I sleep with the window open. I sleep next to Katniss. I save her from her nightmares. She saves me from mine. We live in district 12. It is being rebuilt. I love Katniss. Katniss loves me. We protect each other."
We must have been here for hours, though I hadn't really noticed time passing. The Sun had gone down over the horizon and we were stood in near darkness, I could faintly see his face as he worked. The familiar look had returned, the concentration face id longed to see since he first started to 'remember' this morning. Finally, he looked up, a satisfied grin spread across his face. He stood up, and came forward to give me a kiss. I sighed, knowing it was over. At least for now. He leaned in, pressed his lips to mine. He pulled back, and my heart squeezed at the lack in proximity; until I saw the blue blob on his nose. I let out a laugh, and saw his brows furrow in confusion.
"You got a bit of…" I grinned, lifting my green coloured hand to smear the paint on his face. "There we go. All better." I smiled.
"All better." He confirmed.
I felt his strong warm arms wrap around me as we moved out of the living room and into the kitchen. I'd forgotten to turn out the light this morning, so I understood what his gasp was about. I turned away, self-conscious. I knew he was looking at the bruise, and it only confirmed my suspicions when he pulled me closer to look. "God Katniss, I am so sorry. You don't understand. I didn't mean..I would never!" I could see the panic in his eyes.
"I know, I know." I whisper, over and over above his ramblings. "You're okay now though. That's all that matters to me. You're back."
He shook his head and looked down, ashamed. "Katniss…" He began.
"Look, Peeta. I don't care. All I care about is that you're here, I'm here and we're both fine. It wouldn't be like us not to have bruises and scars. So just let it go. I didn't just stand and be your human canvas for you to get like this now. So look at me!" he does. And I smile. "And next time, use watercolour or something, because this is going to be a pain to get off!" I grinned.
He smiled back. "Thank you.." He looked deep into my eyes, right down to my soul. At that moment, I felt bare. Naked. "For staying." He finished.
"Always."