CHAPTER 1- BRING IT BACK
I awake, tangled in a spread of white sheets, with the pale morning light beating in on my eyes through a crack in the blinds. Someone is repeatedly knocking on the door; I grumpily pull my silk red robe from my nightstand and envelop myself in its warmth, as I had only slept in my undergarments the previous night. I slip on my pink, wooly slippers and begrudgingly trudge out of my bedroom door. I walk down the stairs and into the foyer. I stop when I reach the door and sigh, the stranger knocks again and I rise up on my toes and press my eye to the peephole in the center of the door. What little I can see of the visitor, the chiseled chest and shoulder muscles that lead into his long neck and pointed chin, gives away who is rapping on my door so early in the morning. I unhook the lock and turn the knob, slightly opening the door and peaking out. When I affirm the easily recognizable identity of my visitor, I open the door in full and stare at him for a couple seconds before speaking.
"Hey Peeta," I mutter, "What are you doing here?" I tentatively brush the hair—that hangs so loosely in my face—out of my eyes and behind my ear. I stare into his blue eyes intently, I haven't seen him for about two weeks, since he planted the primrose bushes along the side of my house. I am distracted when he begins to speak and don't catch a word of what he has said. "What?" I say.
He laughs, then begins slowly, "I brought you something, Katniss," He reaches into a bag that he is carrying in his left hand and pulls out a small white box. He opens it up and inside sits the perfect little balls of bread, covered ever so carefully in cheddar by his perfect hand. He picks one up and holds it out to me. "These are your favorites, real or not real?"
I salivate just looking at the perfect little cheese bun. I nod vigorously, "Real," I smile at him playfully as I say it and step aside and wave him into my house. We walk to the kitchen and sit down across from each other at my table. We sit in comfortable silence as I stuff my mouth with one of his delectable pastries. Peeta watches me intently while picking at a cheese bun of his own. His gaze shifts to the floor and his mouth opens as if he is about to speak several times, but no words come out. Usually I am the one unable to formulate words, he always knows what to say and how to act. After a period of even more deliberate silence, he opens his mouth and this time the words tumble out.
"How have you been, Katniss?" He asks casually. The question is so simple, part of me wonders what took him so long to cough it out.
I hesitate, then speak, "As good as I can be, I guess," I smile weakly at him, "How have you been?" I throw back.
"Fine," He simply states, he hesitates as I did and then adds, "My time in the Capitol was pretty lonely," He truly looks as if he is about to cry. I don't know what brought on this sadness. He was the one who initiated this conversation, wasn't he? It isn't even that complicated, it was just a simple question. Maybe his loneliness was just that terrible. Before I can stop myself, I walk around the table and pull out the chair next to him, I turn to face him and look him in the eyes.
"You aren't lonely anymore," I smile at him gently, he laughs. I think about my own loneliness. The only company I've had lately is Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. Even those visits are limited to mornings and evenings, and I don't know if Greasy Sae is still going to come around anymore now that Peeta's back. Maybe she thinks that he's going to take over her job. As I think of the limited human interaction that has been present in my life in the past month, I formulate an idea. "Why don't we spend the day together, Peeta?" I ask cautiously. I haven't had a real conversation with him in a while, maybe we could talk about some things that are confusing for him, his shiny memories. Maybe I can help him be whole again.
He suddenly jerks his head up and looks me straight in the eyes, blue meets grey and I can't help but notice the slight glare the luminates them as he moves his head around, flipping his blonde curls out of his face. "Really?" He says, clearly shocked.
"No, Peeta, I was kidding," I tease, I pause and smile at him, "Of course, I'm serious, Peeta, we haven't had a normal conversation in months, we've barely even seen each other, it would be good for us, I think," I finish.
"Are you saying you missed me?" He flaunts, suddenly breaking into a quiet chuckle. I give him my best scowl that screams we aren't going to talk about this now and he puts his hands up in defeat. I playfully push him. "What should we do?" He questions.
We think in silence for a few seconds, and then I get a simple idea, "Why don't we just go for a walk?"
He smiles, "I would love that," He says chuckling. He stands up immediately and pushes in his chair. He comes over and pulls mine out slowly. He offers me his hands and helps me up. As I stand up, we come face to face and once again I find myself staring into the icy blue daggers that are his eyes. Years ago these eyes would meet mine in the school yard, only to quickly flit away seconds later. Now, they hold my gaze and I am the one to pull my eyes away first, only to look down and see that our hands are intertwined. I pull my hands away nervously and wipe my sweaty palms against my legs. That's when I realize I'm just wearing a robe.
"Peeta, I think I should change first," I tell him, he looks down at my outfit and nods in agreement, mouthing a silent "yes". I walk swiftly to the stairs and leap upstairs to go get changed. When I get into my room, I reach into my dark, wood dressers and pull out a clump of tops with one my hands. I throw them on my bed and pick out a dark purple tank top and a black jacket to go over it since the weather hasn't been exactly warm even though it's already March. I pull on a pair of dark wash jeans and my old hunting boots and run back down the stairs to meet Peeta by the front door. I have barely gotten to his side before he opens the door and we walk out.
"You look great in that top," He says with a nervous smile. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, and it must register on my face because before I can respond, Peeta is apologizing. "I'm sorry, I guess that wasn't appropriate to say. . ." He says as his voice begins trailing off.
I grab his shoulder and stop him from walking anymore as my own feet stop. "No, Peeta, it's fine," I reassure him, "Thank you."
He smiles at me and we continue walking towards town and off the lawn of the Victor's Village. What has he been doing with all of his time lately? While I would just sit on the couch in a crumpled, depressed state, what would the oh-so active boy with the bread be doing during all this time?
"What have you been doing since you came back?" I tentatively question. I scratch the back of my neck and look at Peeta. He looks thoughtful.
"Not much really, mostly just sitting around. I haven't really baked much, the cheese buns we ate this morning were actually the first thing I've made since I've been back," He pauses for a moment, "I've been painting, too."
I can't say that I'm not amazed that all he has done until today is sit around and maybe paint a little. He's usually the one who motivates those around him to get up and just do something. But I'm glad he has had time to paint, because I absolutely love his paintings. I find myself wishing that I could see them. Just as the thought reaches my head, his voice reaches my ear.
"Would you like to see them?" I let out a small gasp and he looks over at me, utterly confused. "Katniss, are you OK?"
"I'm fine,"
"Ok," His voice is quiet now, barely a whisper. For a reason I can't understand, this is one of those moments where I have to act before I do something stupid, like cry.
"Yes, Peeta, I'd love to see your paintings," I tell him, giving him my best winning smile. His eyes twinkle and he quickly reaches out to grab my hand and starts running back towards his house with me trailing behind him. I almost trip a couple of times and he slows down for me. But when his prosthetic leg hits a rock he tumbles forward and I land on top of him. "Well, someone is excited," I smile at him and he smiles back, we both give a hearty laugh and I roll off of him and collect myself before standing up. I give him a hand and he latches on and pulls himself to his feet.
"Sorry about that," He says, chuckling. We walk the last few steps to his front porch and he unlocks the door with his key and we walk inside. The first thing I notice when I step inside is the impeccable, spotless floor. Peeta's house is always so clean, I don't think I've ever seen one little thing on the floor. The wood in his front foyer is so clean and smooth that you could skate across it, even without socks. He leads me past his living room and the red couches that fill up its entirety and up the stairs. We reach the narrow hallway and walk past several doors before finally coming to a dark brown wooden door at the end of the hall. H
He turns the brass knob and I immediately gasp. Wall to wall are pictures of everything, even the memories that aren't so clear to him. There are a few ones I absolutely can't stand to look at. There's a syringe pressing gross, green ooze into an arm, and over there is a picture of what I can only imagine is Johanna, writhing in pain as the electric shocks go through her water-filled cell and eventually, her body. Then there's one that catches my eye as soon as I turn my head towards it. It's my face, both of my arms are reaching outwards, my hands run off the page and it is evident that this is how he saw me in the Capitol. When I thought that I was going to lose him, that he was going to have another attack. At the very top corner of the page are my words, "Stay with me." My thoughts all run together and the only one I catch is the one that I whisper, barely audible.
"Always," I murmur. That is what his response was. I asked him to stay with me and he told me always. There are so many things about him, about me, that only confirm that he was telling the truth. He's here now, isn't he? Even through the hijacking, he was still my Peeta. My thoughts jumble together again as everything is violently thrown at me. The Capitol, Finnick, Prim, Coin's demise by my hand, Snow trampled and choking to death on his own spit, my own trial, Peeta's hijacking. Everything I fear most is what runs through my mind right now, and Peeta, who is so good at reading me, obviously notices my distress and comes up from behind and puts an arm around me.
"That one's my favorite," he says, pointing to one in the exact opposite corner of the room. I turn around and my jaw drops. My lips tremble. My hands shake. It's Prim. It's her, she's staring at me. Her blue eyes aglow and her mouth barely open as if she is about to say something. Her medic shirt is untucked in the back and she is tending to a wounded child, the snow around them splattered with red. Silver parachutes lay all around. There is a single explosion going off in the background and I know that this is what she looked like right before death. Barely calling out my name, happy at seeing me but terrified nonetheless, tending to a wounded child in the City Square. I turn around and stare at Peeta in disbelief.
"I knew you would hate it," He says softly, "But, I just love it so much, I can't explain why, it's just one of the most emotion-filled paintings I've made yet."
I just keep looking at him, my mouth agape, I stutter, "I- I hate it, Peeta, it's beautiful but I absolutely hate it."
He nods his head, "I know that." We are silent. I don't know whether to cry or just leave. I resolve to do the latter but as I reach the door, his hand grips onto my shoulder. "No, Katniss, don't leave, please."
"What am I supposed to do, Peeta?" I ask sternly. I can't deal with the events of the past five minutes and I just want to get out of here. But Peeta won't allow it, I know he won't, I can see it in his eyes that he will do everything he can to get me to stay. He wants me to stay. I open my mouth to tell him that I just don't think I can handle it right now, but before I say anything, he tenderly wraps his arms around me. I tentatively raise my arms to return the favor and nestle my head into the crook of his neck.
"Ok, Peeta, I'll stay," I say sweetly.
The rest of the afternoon is calm, quiet. We don't do much. We sit on the couch, we play cards, and we watch television. At some point, Haymitch comes over and he and Peeta play a game of chess and Haymitch teases us about being together again, we just shrug it off and I spend the rest of the match throwing bits and pieces of the popcorn I was eating and his head. At the end of the game, he starts throwing the chess pieces at me and Peeta has to jump between the two of us before someone hurts the other. By the time evening comes and Haymitch has left, we are so exhausted we can barely move.
"I better get going home, Peeta," I tell him as we lay on the couch, his hand twiddling with my braid.
"Ok," He whispers. But I don't move, I just stay in my spot. My head is on his lap, his fingers have untangled my braid and my hair now falls in waves around my head.
"I should really. . . " I trail off the blackness absorbs me as I hear Peeta shushing softly and whispering that he still loves me gently.
I run frantically around the Capitol streets, frantically searching for my partner, my friend. I can't find him anywhere. Nor do I see his blonde locks or blue eyes anywhere in my vicinity. After many minutes of my unsuccessful searching, I end up in the huge City Square. There he stands, snake-like and venomous, with a white rose in his lapel. President Snow.
"Aren't you going to save your dear, dear boyfriend, Ms. Everdeen?" He questions, a smirk plays on his lips. I turn and see Peeta standing on some sort of wooden platform, his neck circled with a rope which hangs from a wooden post above him. A Peacekeeper pulls some sort of lever and the platform retracts. Peeta's body drops and goes limp. He hangs there in midair, twirling left to right. I break down, I sob. Then a peacekeeper comes and puts a gun to my head.
He pulls the trigger and my world goes black.
I awake, sweating and terrified on a couch. It isn't my couch, the red velvet tells me this. However, I am covered in a puffy, white comforter and there is a soft, cushiony feather pillow behind my head. I take a look at the spotless floor around me and realize that I must still be at Peeta's house. Of course he wouldn't wake me once I had fallen asleep; he's too courteous to do so. I am still shaking and I can't control the tremor that invades my bottom lip. Before I know it I'm sobbing. I know Peeta must be upstairs. If he isn't in the room with me, he must've gone to bed. I hate to disturb him at this late hour, but I need him, I really need him. I run up the stairs and burst through the door to his bedroom. The door hits the wall with a loud bang and Peeta immediately jolts from his peaceful slumber. His eyes wander a bit as he tries to place where he is, and then lock on me.
"Katniss!" He exclaims worriedly, he gets up and walks towards me, "What's wrong? Are you OK?" He is in front of me now, and he reaches a hand out and places it sweetly on my shoulder.
I can't speak, I'm sobbing too loudly now. "I was-. . . And you were gone and-. . . Snow had you-" I continue to sob wildly and barely choke out anything intelligible. He pulls me into a tight hug.
"Shh," He murmurs in my ear, "It's OK now, Katniss, I'm here, I won't let them hurt you," He pulls away from me and stares at me right in the eyes for a few moments, his lips slightly parted and his eyebrows raised in distress. He leans in towards me and pauses suddenly as his lips are about to meet mine, as if asking permission, I don't pull away and he seems to take this as consent to continue. He gives me a slow, but quick kiss, full-on the lips. He pulls back, "Better?" He whispers. I nod my head. He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the bed as he draws the deep blue covers back. I lay down and he lays down next to me, my back pressing into his stomach and his knees locked with mine. He puts one arm around me and I latch onto the hand that comes to rest gently against my stomach. I bring it up to my mouth and kiss it slowly, taking in his scent.
"Peeta," I quietly whimper.
"Yes?" He responds, pushing my dark locks of hair out of my eyes.
"Don't ever leave me," I tell him, turning around and staring directly into the blue holes that have dilated ever so slightly.
"Okay," He mutters as he smiles.
"No, you need to promise," I demand, "Promise that you'll never leave me."
He looks at me sweetly and places a hesitant kiss on my forehead, "I promise."
I shift in his arms and get comfortable. As sleep, as well as Peeta, pulls me into its soft embrace, I hear him whisper a word, almost inaudibly.
"Always."
A/N~ Greetings, reader! If you are not aware. This is a rewrite of my previous story "Moving On". Much more creative title, huh? But anyways, if you read and enjoyed 'Moving On' before this, I am very hopeful that you will enjoy this one as well. Prepare for better plot development, characterization, detail, etc.! AND ALSO MORE CHAPTERS! :O I just thought Moving On was too short and my writing was not the best. You will not have to have read Moving On before this in order to understand this one as it isn't a sequel, just a rewrite. But it's going to be great! And this time, I'm actually writing as I go instead of just posting a story I wrote a long time ago on a new site. :O So, sit down, get some popcorn, snuggle up next to the fire place, cover up with a blanket, and enjoy 'Growing Flames'. :)
