Our lips find each other in the dark. A kiss meant for comfort, assurance. I am here. You are safe, his lips tell me; his arms a sanctuary. I love you. Stay with me, my lips write across his face, my fingers whisper in his hair. My tears turn our kiss salty. My sobs shake me, making my lips sloppy. He stops kissing me, only to pull me closer. He strokes my hair, murmuring, "Shh, you're okay," as if I were a child. And I let him, because there is something about broken people that makes us look at them as children. My hands fist in his shirt, because the closer I get to him, the safer I feel. My tears fall and mix with his own. I am selfish not to comfort him, so I brush his tears from his cheeks with my lips and snuggle closer. Eventually, our sobs dissipate and we sleep, clinging to each other as if we would drown without the other.
When I wake up, my arms are around Peeta, my cheek touching his. I seem to be lying on top of him, with his arms around me. There's absolutely no way for me to get up without disturbing him, so instead I kiss him awake.
"Hey," he smiles at me. "You okay?" His smile fades naturally into a look of concern.
"Yeah," I say. And I am. I'm not great, but I'm okay. Thanks to him. "You?" I ask, not forgetting that I wasn't the only one crying last night.
"Yeah..." he says with a sigh. "It's nothing new." I kiss him again briefly before rolling out of bed.
"Breakfast?" Peeta asks.
"Sure. I'm just gonna take a shower, then I'll be right down." He smiles at me again and for a moment I can't breathe, though I try not to think about why.
After Peeta goes to work I do the only thing I can think to do: I go to the lake. I stare at the clear blue water as if it'll somehow help clear my mind. And it does, but not in the way I want it to.
Peeta. He is always present in my mind now and in my heart, like a second heartbeat. It doesn't seem logical but there it is. Why am I fighting it so hard? Why does it bring me the greatest happiness I've ever known but still cause me to run away in fear? Why am I so afraid?
I stop thinking about it. It's not doing me any good anyway. So instead I hunt. At least this way I'm doing something useful.
I'm cooking dinner when Peeta comes home that night. "Hey," he says. "What are you making?"
"Squirrel stew." He leans over my shoulder to get a better look and I don't think about it, I lean back against him. He stiffens but then puts his arms around me. I keep stirring the stew.
"It smells amazing. Thanks," he says sweetly.
"Who said this was for you?" I joke. He laughs. We usually take turns cooking dinner, but tonight was technically his night. "Did you bring anything home from the bakery?"
"A couple cheese buns and some cookies for dessert." His breath blows hot next to my ear and I shiver.
"This is almost ready. Can you set the table?" It shouldn't feel like I'm sending him away, but it does. A couple minutes later we're eating dinner and I reach for his hand across the table.
"You ok?" He looks so concerned it breaks my heart a little, but this is the second time tonight I've sought out his touch. Our touches are for comfort, the only light bright enough to keep the darkness at bay.
"Yeah," I say. "I'm fine." Thanks to you. I can't say that, it's too much of a declaration. But it's true, and suddenly I want to say it. And when I do I see his eyes light up and he squeezes my hand and I know I made the right choice. I smile at the look on his face. When he is happy, I am happy. I don't know when that happened but it is my reality now.