I went to see Catching Fire in theatres on Saturday. At first, the movie seemed fast paced and a little unrealistic, but as it slowed and reached the games it got really good. I can see why critics are raving about it. Now all I have to do is watch Frozen...
Anyway, this oneshot came out of nowhere. I haven't been on this site lately, and I apologize to my readers (if you're all still there) and to the people I usually review or talk to.
SPOILER ALERT. Yes, this hints towards spoilers in Mockingjay. If you haven't read the book, don't read this.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
"You're not doing these flowers any good when you won't water them."
I turn and I see him standing there, watching me quietly like he always does. His hands are in his pockets and his head bows down too often. He's afraid to come near, even when he was the one who went and planted those flowers.
"I do too," I say tiredly, because I am just that. Tired. Tired of having to do what other people tell me to. Tired because I shouldn't need someone to remind me to water these flowers. They're Prim, and I should be taking care of her like I always did.
"I can do it," he offers, ignoring my weak response politely.
"No." I say bluntly. "I can."
Because they're much more than flowers now, and I can take care of Prim all on my own.
"Then I can help."
"Why are you here?" the words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. "You're not even supposed to be here."
"I don't have anyone to tell me that, do I?" Peeta's voice isn't sharp. It's soft, like everything he does is. "I didn't think you were still recovering."
"You're the one recovering, not me." I remind him.
"That's not true," he speaks softly, and he steps closer, bringing his hands out of his pockets. Without thinking, I scowl. He smiles. Then he turns and goes to fetch water inside, which I don't protest against.
"Haymitch isn't coming too, is he?" I ask when he comes back out, bringing a jug of water.
"Why not? You, me, and Haymitch. Very cozy," he cracks a smile, and I remember those words, even if they don't stir positive memories for me. "But no, he isn't."
"I don't need you to come check up on me, Peeta. I'm not the one who was hijacked. I'm not the person that needs to be worried about." I change the subject.
"You're right." Peeta nods, but I assume that is just to humor me. "That doesn't mean I can't worry."
"You lost people too," I feel my eyes tear up, and I scold them for betraying me in my mind. "You shouldn't be here with me when they deserved you, and I killed them."
"I lost everyone, Katniss," Peeta looks up from where he's begun to water the flowers named for my sister. "Everyone but you."
"Then mourn them," I snap. "Not me."
"I do." Peeta looks at me so sadly that I'm tempted to cave to some unknown pressure. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't. My family, my friends...they never stood a chance. I never did, either, but I got help."
I know he is referring to me, but I ignore that.
"I killed them, Peeta," I repeat.
"No," Peeta shakes his head. "I used to think that when I was under the Capitol's control. But it's not true."
"I was responsible for those bombs they sent here. My actions did that."
"No," Peeta says again. "You didn't know any more than me."
"I started everything," I say. "I should've killed myself with those berries before letting you know. You should've gone home, not me. Your life would've been simpler. I-"
"Katniss," Peeta says softly.
"They wouldn't be dead. She wouldn't be dead."
Peeta doesn't ask who I'm talking about. He knows how I feel about Prim's death.
"Katniss," he just says again. "You took down the Capitol. If I'd have gone home, things would've stayed the way they always were."
"But Prim would've lived. You wouldn't have to have been hijacked. So many people could've lived." I say, and I feel my voice rising. I shouldn't be angry at Peeta. He's only being rational, after all.
"But so many more would've died," he says in his quiet voice. He sets aside the empty jug, the flowers all watered. "I'm sorry."
He turns to go.
"Peeta..." I trail off. There's so much more I want to say, but the words can't come out.
"I know," he says, and a smile plays on his lips. "I'm crazy to think things are ever going to change."
I'm rushing towards him now, holding him, letting the tears that sting my eyes fall. Because I don't think he's crazy. Not anymore. I want nothing more than to be near the boy with the bread, and for some reason, he still wishes to be near me.
"So many people died for me," I say as we stand, holding each other tightly, never wanting to let go. "I don't want you to do the same."
"I'm not going to die. The dangers are gone."
"That's a lie," I shake my head. "The dangers still live, even- even if we can't see them. I don't want you to kill yourself because of them. I don't know what I'd do if..."
"If what, Katniss?"
"If I were to lose you, too." I finish. It brings me back to the days in the arena when I could barely manage to fake feelings for him after an emotionally charged statement. Now I can, but it's far too late.
I feel something wet against my skin. His tears.
I never noticed him crying in the arena or after it. We'd be hurt, upset, kissing, acting romantically involved, and sharing our deep feelings, but I never saw him cry like this. Even when he faked I was pregnant and turned to face me with his tears, I never gave it much thought. He never saw me crying much either, even thought we had many cry worthy moments. We're so vulnerable right now, and a part of me wants to shove him aside, because weakness will bring nothing.
This is how I realize the games ruined me.
"I won't ever do that. Not to you." His promise echoes in my head.
"Why is it you stayed here?" I pull away from where I have been holding him, suddenly fearing why he has. "There was nothing left here for you."
"There was you," he says, and I know he's not trying again. Everything he says just comes off as naturally sweet, and this comment is no exception.
"I don't want to do this again." I whisper. "Making a mistake, and-"
"Katniss, after I was treated, I couldn't stop thinking about you," Peeta blurts, cutting me off. I'm about to say something when he cuts me off again. "Don't. I don't want you to think you did, too. I know you never cared for me like I did for you. Just hear me out."
"Okay," I whisper.
"I was beside myself with anger. I treated you horribly, and I know you hate me for that. Being treated didn't cure me, you know. It just opened my eyes. Some memories with you still seem fuzzy. Sometimes my brain tries to make me think you're going to kill me." Peeta stops, and he places a gentle hand on my cheek. This act brings sudden warmth through my body, even if we're not holding each other anymore.
Even though he just admitted he wants to kill me sometimes.
"But you don't try to kill me first," I say, finishing his thought.
"If I ever thought you would kill me," Peeta goes on, "it would be for the best. I couldn't live with myself if I killed you, so that's what restrains me. If you killed me, well, I'd trust you on it."
"Boggs wanted me to kill you." I blurt suddenly.
Peeta just stares at me with his careful blue eyes before he steps back, taking his hand from my cheek and taking all the warmth I felt.
"He was right to."
"But you're not the person Boggs saw you to be then." I say quickly, and I don't even try to wonder why I'm fighting so hard to let Peeta know I never believed what Boggs ordered me to do. Then he might get the wrong idea about us, and if there's one less thing I need, it's trying to sort out my feeings for Peeta, once and for all.
"I was always still me," Peeta's voice drops, and he's even more quiet than before. "Just altered. Why didn't you do it?" His question startles me. It's blunt, just like Peeta was when he was hijacked.
"Why would I do it?" I question, and I feel slight annoyance that he's even bringing up the topic.
"It would've solved a lot." Peeta says after some consideration.
"Not for me." I'm arguing because this conversation hurts. It hurts that Peeta thinks I'm going to kill him, even when that has never been my intent. Even those first games we survived, I'd been cautious to kill him, and I only tried when I thought he betrayed me for the Careers. Whatever impulse made me save him during those games revisits me, and I want, so desperately, to save him again somehow.
"Maybe not right off," Peeta shrugs like discussing his possible death is something normal. "You'd probably be with Gale, though. Maybe not now, but sometime in the future." His offhand way of saying this insults me. Like he's so sure that if he hadn't been in the picture, Gale and I would've been together.
"That would've never happened," I retaliate. "Gale and I are too alike."
"I know. It's something I know I can never compare to." Peeta's eyes seem to darken, and he looks down, as if willing himself not to keep talking.
"I don't want you to ever compare to Gale. Or to me. I'm the girl on fire, remember? The one who's heartless? The one who's always going to be leaving you behind. That's me, Peeta. Me and Gale alike."
"He didn't leave you on his own will. He had to, because-"
"Yes, he did. And I don't blame him. I would've left too if I felt the way he feels about me," I say. "I blamed him for the bombs that killed Prim. I didn't kill him like I was supposed to when he was captured. He didn't kill me when I tried to kill myself and was stopped. He blames himself because I don't love him. But I do love him. Just not the way he wants me to. You're not like that, Peeta."
"Why? Because I don't blame myself? I do." Peeta's confused now.
"No," I shake my head, and I bite my lip before I continue. "You wouldn't have left. You didn't leave. Even though you still think I'm going to kill you, you're here. Like every time we acted out as a couple. You never left me behind. You stayed even though it seemed like I was leading you on. Even if you didn't like that I didn't love you back. You stayed."
"I'll always stay, Katniss," Peeta looks at me with such awe that I'm wondering if I'm still crying. My hand goes to my cheek, but I'm not. "You know I can never leave you behind."
"I know," I'm ducking my head away now, trying to stop tears that now come. "I seem heartless to you, don't I? Because I left you so many times?"
"Of course not," Peeta assures me. "You always came back."
I try and remember how that is so. Then I do. Going back and saving him during the seventy-fourth games. Never letting up on him during the seventy-fifth, even though I ended up losing him. Even when he was hijacked, I never truly thought to end him, at least not seriously.
"I don't even know why I did, Peeta," my voice quivers, and I realize I can't even begin to sort out my feelings for Peeta if I wanted to. "I'm sorry I didn't love you like you loved me."
It's the first time I've ever apologized for that. It's not a topic I wanted to apologize for, but as I do, I realize it's long overdue. I didn't think about Peeta's feelings. No, I only worried about keeping him alive. I didn't think to consider how he must've been feeling.
I feel, at least for a moment, incredibly selfish.
"Love." Peeta says.
"What?"
"Love. You're sorry you don't love me like I love you." Peeta corrects.
"Peeta..." I trail off like I did moments earlier. I don't want to say anything. He can't love me, can he? He still, at least in the back of his mind, thinks I'm going to kill him. He's not the stable, calm Peeta I once knew, but he's still there. Maybe his feelings are still the same, but I don't want to risk that.
"You don't have to say anything," Peeta assures me. "It's not fair for me to assume you love me to. I haven't given you any reason to."
It hurts because he has, several times over.
"You have. I-" I stop, because I can't find any words.
Without further ado, Peeta leans foward and kisses me. His lips are as strong and sure as they always were, and I lose myself in this kiss. That feeling creeps up on me again. The one that makes me crave his kiss more, the one that makes me feel different. Exhilarated, perhaps, but mostly other confusing emotions. Longing, pain, and above all, love. There's no question he loves me, but I just can't think of him quite that way yet. He's changed. I've changed. We've endured so much together that I worry about what could happen if we were to be together.
But right now, all I can feel is comfort. His lips are making me feel more sure about the boy that has come to seek me out. Even more, his arms are now wrapped around me, bringing stability into my life that Gale never has. Of course I feel safe in Gale's arms as well, but somehow, being in Peeta's arms is a different kind of safe. Right now, being safe is a risky thing to be. We, facing all the trouble that's come to us, know better than anyone else that safe is only a word. It guarantees nothing.
But right now, right here, it feels like it's enough.
Thanks for reading. :)
If you can, please review. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys would tell me how I did, considering this is my first oneshot on this archive. Also, I'm afraid the characters are a little off, so if you see any way I can improve, PLEASE tell me.
