Carry Your World
Gale's POV
It was just right after dinner, on a Sunday night. I'd have to go back to work in the mines tomorrow, but I couldn't leave as Katniss dozed off with her head on my shoulder a while ago. I'd have to admit I was ecstatic, but there's a weird pang in my chest that somehow tells me that this is wrong. Her mom and Prim had already gone to bed, and we were alone on the couch. Peeta had just left, but we noticed that he forgot his sketchbook, and just figured that maybe he'd come back for it tomorrow.
"No," Katniss mumbled suddenly, her forehead creasing. "No, no, no," she started shouting, her eyes still closed, and gripped my shirt. "NO! NO!" she thrashed, shaking the life out of my arms. I was so shocked; I didn't know what to do, just let her grab me? Just then, Peeta walked in. "I think I left-" He saw Katniss and hurriedly went to us.
The moment he touched her head, she let go of me and now tried to attack Peeta, her eyes still closed. I backed off. I've never seen her like this before. Her eyes were leaking tears, still closed, as her arms flailed around Peeta. "Katniss, Katniss, it's okay, it's just me, it's Peeta," he whispered, catching her wrists and pinning them down where she sat. He kneeled down and Katniss finally started to stop thrashing, her breathing slowly getting even. "It's okay. It's okay. We're all okay," Peeta kept repeating, until Katniss started nodding. It seemed routine, like he's done this a million times before. The pang in my chest was painful now.
"You wanna open your eyes now, Katniss?" Peeta asked gently. She nodded, and slowly stared back at the blue eyes piercing her own. Then fresh tears started to fall, and she started shaking. Peeta's hands travelled from her wrists immediately to catch her face, where she held his hands with her own. Still sobbing, she threw her arms around Peeta's neck, holding on for dear life. "Just a bad dream, Katniss, just a bad dream," he said softly, his hands now rubbing her back slowly. My chest hurt even if I close my eyes.
Peeta turned to me, still holding Katniss, his eyes still full of worry, and said, "It's okay, I got this." There was a tone of apology in his voice that I chose to ignore. So I just nodded, and stood up to leave.
My hand was at the door when I said, "Take care of her." I didn't need to look at him. It hurt too much. "Always," he whispered.
I couldn't close the door fast enough to find that they've already curled up on the couch, Katniss hugging Peeta's torso like a lifeline, his hands in her hair and on her back.
I'd seen enough.
I could never do that, I thought to myself as I walked back to the Seam. I'd never be able to calm her down like that.
But Peeta could. I think Peeta's the only one who could.
No matter how hard I try, I'm sure; I'll be nowhere as comforting as his presence.
She needs Peeta.
It hit me like a wrecking ball, the pang in my chest now extremely uncomfortable.
She loves Peeta. She just doesn't know it yet, but it's there. And much, much more than whatever she feels for me.
So much more.
My chest hurt like a heart attack.