I woke up to someone touching me. Not in the bad way, it wasn't bad at all, but I felt it before I knew what was happening. A soft stroke upwards from my collarbone right up to my lip, then the touch wandered lightly, dancing across my face.
Mother? Prim? Gale? I didn't know. It felt wonderful and comforting, this strange touch, and I rolled over to my side, allowing the touch to wander around the nape of my neck.
Except the touch didn't wander anymore. Instead, a voice ventured, "Katniss?"
It was Peeta. Whatever fragile grip of being home and stroked by family members was shattered. I was here, in bed, with Peeta, the night before the Quell. Of course I wanted comfort, but Peeta had been touching me when I was sleeping. I felt violated. Every bit of being that trusted Peeta now was being plucked out. It's one thing to allow someone to trace your features, it's another to find a boy, whom you allowed into your bed, tracing them while you're sleeping.
"Peeta, what are you doing?" I whispered, feeling the words hang in the night air.
"I just wanted to be close to you. I - I've done this for a while now. Every night we're together." Peeta says slowly, I can tell he feels guilty, "I'm sorry Katniss, if you're mad."
I flip my eyes open and feel all my bitter opposition to Peeta's touches melt away. His eyes, they're beautiful, blue, deep, and filled with un-shed tears. How can this boy be so strong, yet so sensitive? Is it manly to cry? I don't know, I've never seen Gale cry, and he's more than a man. I sigh and reach up, brushing Peeta's blonde hair away from his face. I decide right then and there that Peeta is beautiful.
"I'm not mad, I'm just surprised." I mumble.
Peeta is hesitant, "Is it okay if I keep doing this?" he reaches forward to touch my collarbone, tracing it slowly, I'm surprised when I feel my whole entire being tingling at his touch. Peeta doesn't seem to notice though, as he swirls patterns up and up until he reaches my lip.
"I don't mind." I say, and I find I'm getting sleepy all over again.
"It relaxes me. I can't sleep knowing what tomorrow brings…" Peeta trails off and I think I can feel his finger tracing weapons on my forehead.
I reach forward and take his hand, pressing it against my cheek. I can still smell the cinnamon that he baked with just a few days ago. It lingers on his flesh like it's been permanently put there. Maybe it has. I smile without knowing it.
"You're smiling." Peeta's surprised, he raises his eyebrows.
This boy. This night. The circumstances we're both under. My pledge to keep Peeta alive. As I stare up as him, because he's leaning over me, I know that a future with Peeta is not repulsive. Even though I have chosen Gale, I can feel that chose dwindling. And I'm not sad, either. A future with Peeta is the capitol's design. Hadn't I told myself that? But Peeta is not something the capitol planned. Peeta plays the crowd exactly right. Now I realize that the capitol has been designing around Peeta. Not vice versa. For some reason, I sigh heavily, because it feels like an unknown weight has been lifted by figuring this out.
"Peeta…" I begin, because I don't know how to start these sort of things. I want his comfort. More than his touch, even. "Remember how many kisses we've shared?"
"I remember them." Peeta answers quietly, and he gently pries his hand from my cheek.
"Well, I guess I've never really kissed you back, have I?" I venture quietly.
Peeta inhales deeply, "I wouldn't say that. You have. Kinda." he shrugs and gives a half-hearted smile. God, I wonder how I could have ever been so cruel to him. Throwing myself at Gale off-camera, throwing myself at him on-camera. Of course, it was fake then, and I might've been kissing a block in my mind because I know now that I was not adding any passion to my actions with Peeta. I find I want to add them now. Here, before the Quarter Quell. At least once, before I'm gone forever.
"Since we're going to the Quarter Quell soon, I want you to remember me." I make my voice steady. "I - I want to keep you alive, Peeta."
"I know that." Peeta whispers.
"I don't want to die without a piece of you dying with me." now it's my turn to shrug, "I don't want you live without a piece of me going with you."
Peeta stiffens. "No, Katniss, you're not going to die." he laughs lightly, "We'll play this romance thing up so much that they'll have no choice but to let us both live."
"No, Peeta." my voice rises one octave, "No arguments, no "I love you, you are my life's" tonight. Just me and you, alright?" I force myself up so that I'm eye-to-eye with him.
His eyes widen. "What are you getting at?"
I can't explain what I want. Peeta. I want Peeta, I guess. But it sounds so wrong, so filthy coming from my mouth, that I don't' say it. At least, not out loud. I'll give him the kiss he's always wanted. I tell myself, and than stop Peeta because he's in the middle of saying something, with a kiss.
Peeta tries to talk again, but I don't let him. I cling onto him, furiously tangling my right hand in his hair, not letting him come up for air, so that he has to open his mouth in the middle of my kiss so he can go on breathing. Of course, an open mouth leads to new possibilities, and I slide my tongue into his mouth.
He gasps and grips me tighter. The sensations I'm getting are entirely new. But it feels so comforting, so good to be this close, to feel his tongue lightly prying my own mouth open, the way I did it to him. There are no words as we kiss. I can feel the passion in both our bodies building up. For some fleeting moment, I wonder if we're on camera, but then Peeta lets his left hand stray around my chest, and I forget entirely.
Peeta looks up for one second, "is this okay?" he asks.
"Yes." I answer breathlessly, and kiss him again. Now we're tangled up in the sheets, kissing, Peeta's hand exploring my chest area. I blush because I'm not big at all, but he doesn't seem to mind, in fact, the more he explores me, the harder and more demanding his kisses get, until I can't even breath, I'm so busy satisfying him.
Peeta's on top of me now, covering me like a blanket, and I spread my legs to allow more room for him to move around. We both gasp at our position, and the minute he locks into place between my legs, he stops.
"No." he says firmly. "No."
"No what?" I'm disappointed. We're fully clothed and everything, but the little piece of passion back there had me on cloud nine. Wasn't Peeta? Wasn't that what he was dreaming of?
"We can't do this." Peeta sighs and stands up off the side of the bed.
I know why we can't be so close. Because if we get too close, we're going to regret it. Loosing the boy with the bread will be all that harder. Loosing me will be unbearable for him. Because we'll both know what we're like. Peeta will never be able to move on if I just give myself to him. I feel tears coming up because I can't stand the thought of dying, for Peeta's sake, I can't stand the thought of leaving him.
"We have some pieces to hold onto now." He sighs, and he lays back down, but stays far away from me.
We. We. We.
I move towards him and he puts one arm carefully around my shoulders. We both drift off into a tentative sleep. For some odd reason, I'm happy. I'm happy I got some of Peeta. Peeta must be happy he got some of me. We're both happy because for one second, the world disappeared, and it was just Peeta and me. Me and Peeta.
I sigh and fall asleep. Tonight, at least, I got a sense of what "perfect" must be like. Without really knowing what I'm saying, I say, "I love you, Peeta Mellmark."