Nostalgia
Part 1
The sapphire water was placid, and the thin autumn air was crisp with just the right amount of coolness. I had left Peeta in bed this morning, and I went out to hunt. To my dismay there was no game, so I ended up sitting on Gale and I's rock. That only made sour memories resurface that I had no desire to relive. Consequently I moved myself over to lake that only brought me memories of happiness. As I sat there I could almost feel my father cloaking a blanket over my shoulders and bringing me into a bear hug. I can hear his gruff voice whisper into my ear, "Everything is going to be okay my sweet baby girl. You've got what you need, and I'm only a short walk away." I feel him tenderly kiss my head, and then the nostalgia is gone.
I lie down onto my back and spread my arms and legs out. I try to soak up the warmth of a sun like a sponge would soak up water. I watch my chest rise up and fall down with my even breathing. I just exist and reflect for a while.
I've finally gained some of my weight back thanks to the help of Greasy Sae and Peeta. Peeta has been back for six weeks now, and we've been sleeping in the same bed for two weeks. I don't go back to my house that often anymore, it brings back gut churning memories that I would much rather forget even though I am fully aware that's impossible. I've tried. Peeta's house brings me no memories, except for the ones we make together. Plus his house always smells like some delicious pastry and mine smells like Buttercup. I swear that cat has made it his mission to rub its nasty self on every piece of furniture, even the walls. I tell him that he's stupid on a daily basis, and his reply is a hiss followed by him rubbing himself all over my legs. He knows I hate it, and I'm sure that's why he does it, but when night falls and we are both overcome with loneliness I let him onto the couch and scratch him behind the ears. Even though I refused to let Buttercup into Peeta's house I see him perching at the windows, and Peeta, being Peeta, always lets him in. At first I fight him, but its no use. I want Buttercup in that house just as much as he wants to be there. I would let him in myself, but we are sworn enemies. He can't actually know I love him, and I have grown to love that cat almost as much as Prim did, almost.
Peeta still hangs onto the back of the chairs and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake from nightmares of mutts and lost children, but his arms are there to comfort me. I can't even count on two hands the amount of times I have hit Peeta during the night. I'll wake screaming and crying, and he reaches out to touch me and I strike him. Most of the time I am still lost in the world of nightmares, and luckily he knows that. I apologize every morning, and each time I do he just smiles and wraps me in a hug. Those hugs have never turned into kisses. I don't know if they ever will, he seems so guarded around me. Like he doesn't know whether to kiss me, or run the hell away from me. Nevertheless he still hasn't stopped expressing feelings for me, but there is always an underlying tone to his voice. Again, it sounds like he doesn't know whether to kiss me or run the hell away from me. I think, if I were he, I would run away.
I'm just about as messed up in the head as they get, I used to be worse, and that was before Peeta got here. I didn't really move, or talk for those four weeks that I was here alone. I rotted in a cell of my own sadness. When Peeta came he unlocked that cell and set me free. He became my one source of happiness. I no longer had to rot in a cell of sadness, when I could see the light. He is my light, and each day when I wake up to him, I smile. I smile because I know, or at least I think I know, that his face is the face I will wake up to for the rest of my life. I don't mind that, in fact I welcome it with open arms. His is the only face I want to see in the dreamlike morning light, and I hope he wants to see mine too. I will never get sick of smoothing down his bedhead hair, or feeling his hands tangle through my own. The thought makes a bashful smile appear on my face.
In the distance I hear a few leaves crunch, a sound that could only originate from a person's footsteps. Let them come; I'm too lost in happy thoughts to move. I close my eyes, and keep the smile on my face, I haven't been this happy in months and I don't intend to stop these wonderful ideals from entering my mind.
A shadow appears over me, making the sun vanish from above me. I let out an agitated sigh.
"If you're going to kill me just do it," I say with a straight face.
A low deep chested laugh, that can only be recognized as Peeta bellows above me. A smile, paints out across my face, showing all of my teeth. "Good morning to you too," he says.
I shoot my eyes open, "Isn't it a good morning? Come sit with me."
"Someone is happy.." he says with an edge of confusion in his voice, and plops himself down next to me. "By the way, what are you doing?" he asks and gestured to the way I'm laying.
"Oh, I'm being a sun sponge," I giggle, sit up, and rid myself of the leftover grass on my clothing.
He raises his eyebrows at me, "You're being weird what's going on?"
"Why is it a crime to be happy around here?" I say and cross my arms.
He lifts his hands in mock surrender, "It's not-just you aren't usually like this."
"Like what?" I say beginning to get a little agitated.
He shrugs, and reaches his hand to my arm. I can feel the warmth of his fingers through my long sleeve shirt. He traces his hand down my arm lightly, tenderly and whispers, "You're acting happy. And I don't ever want it to end." Then he brings his hand to my cheek, and smiles a sad smile. "When you're happy, I'm happy." He takes a deep breath like he's about to reveal a secret, "I think you're beautiful."
I scoff at his bluff. He must be blind.
He shakes his head miserably, "No. Don't do that. You really have no idea, how beautiful you are to me. You'll never see it, but I see it every morning when I wake up. And you put a smile on my face. Katniss-"
He chokes on his words and tries to regain his calmness, but I cut him off before he can finish his final words.
"Stop," I choke out.
"Why? You deserve to-"
"You're going to make me cry," I snap.
A smile creeps up on his face, "You don't always have to be so strong."
"Oh, but I do," I huff.
He shakes his head again, "Not around me. We can cry together."
I chuckle a little, but it comes out a bit wrong, more like a heave. "Peeta-"
He caresses my cheek with his thumb, and brings his face closer to mine causing my words to hitch in my throat. He hasn't dared to ever show this much affection towards me before today. Of course he still made sweet comments toward me, but I figured that was just him being himself. Now this rush of affection is leaving me dazed, and given me a racing heart. I'm almost positive he can hear my heartbeat as close as he is. He takes a breath, and his exhale tickles my lips.
"Why now?" I ask, my words fluttering across his lips.
He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, and I take in a harsh breath.
"I've been waiting to get this close to you, but I don't know how you feel about it," he pauses for what feels like hours, "How do you feel about it?"
I grab his left hand in my own, and bring it to my heart. I let it sit there on my racing heart for a few seconds before I remark, "How do you think I feel?"
In reply he takes my hand and leads it to his heart. To my surprise, I think his heart may be beating wilder than my own. "Glad we feel the same way," he whispers and smiles.
"Now what?" I ask, even though I feel as if I know the answer.
He inches his face closer to mine, so that I can feel the brush of his lips against my own. I'm having a hard time steading my breathing, and an even harder time calming down my thoughts. His lips are just about to reach mine, and extinguish the fire inside of me when a large crash sounds behind us.
We both fly backwards, and survey our surroundings. "Did you hear that?" Peeta asks, his breathing extremely uneven.
"Yeah, but I don't see anything," I reply and continue to peruse around the area.
Peeta stands up from the ground, and wipes his pants off. "I'll go look around and then come back. Stay here okay?"
I nod, "Okay."
Once he is out of sight, I fling myself onto to the ground, back up, and fight back a scream. He was this close. And life had to go and ruin it.
After a few minutes of pulling grass out from the ground, I've managed to bring my heart rate back to normal, and my breathing as well. Now I am staring out to the other side of the lake, trying to picture a life where my sister and father were not both gone. In some insane way, it makes me smile. I paint a picture in my mind of my father, Prim, Peeta, and I fishing by the lake. I would be helping Prim attach a worm to a hook, while she squirms away in terror. My father and Peeta would be talking next to us. My father would be grilling Peeta, making sure he's the perfect match for his little girl. I would look up and smile at him timidly, then Peeta would beam a smile back at me. We would be in love, and more importantly we'd all be happy. I wipe away the idea of Peeta at this little family outing I've created, and call it stupid for ever imagining him loving me. I'm just exiting dreamland when Peeta plops down next to me for the second time today.
I don't bring my gaze towards him when I ask, "Anything?"
"A deer," he says.
"I haven't seen a deer in these woods for years," I remark.
He guffaws, "Funny that one shows up now."
I roll my eyes. Peeta begins to speak again before I can, "Want to take a walk?"
"Where to?"
"Town," he replies.
"Why?" I say curtly.
"I'm rebuilding the bakery, and I want you to see something I did with it."
I turn to him skeptically, "What did you do?"
He rolls his eyes at me, "Gosh Katniss don't act so eager." He rises from the ground again, and holds out his hand. I gaze across the lake one last time, and a flicker of Prim and my father flash across my eyes. My father smiles, and waves me on to go. Just as I'm about to close my eyes, I hear his words ring in my head. He loves you. Now go on and be happy, I'll be waiting for you right here. But don't forget you'll always be my little girl. A rush of warmth filters through me, and gives me chills at the same time.
"Katniss?" Peeta coos from above me.
I bring my hand up to his and hoist myself aloft.
The walk into town is only ten minutes. I hold his hand the whole way there; I don't care who sees, or who talks. He acts surprise when at first but he doesn't let go, he just holds tighter than ever.
When we get into the general vicinity of the bakery he tells me to close my eyes. I make a snide comment, and then lock up my eyes. He stops me abruptly, drops my hand, and whispers sweetly against my ear, "Open".
I let my eyelids flutter open slowly, and gaze at him before the bakery. He has a smile painted across his face, and he's motioning for me to look. I let my eyes drift to the right, and study it for a moment. When I see it a tear falls down my cheek, and I wonder how one person can be so kind, and how Peeta continues to treat me like the sun rises and sets with me even after all I've done. I turn to him, smile, and throw my arms around his neck. He stumbles back a bit, but holds me tight.
"Oh it's just beautiful Peeta. How did you do it? Why did you do it?" I ask bewildered.
"I did it because she deserves to be remembered, and how I did it is a whole other story. I've been working on it since I got back. I've never seen a building go up faster than this one," he exhales, obviously excited that I like it, "and I painted the words, and the flowers."
My arms fall from his neck, and I turn back to the sign. The word Primrose's is written in a beautiful baby pink, and done by hand. You can see the brush strokes of paint clearly against the glass. The words are done in the most breath taking calligraphy I've ever seen. And next to the words are two evening primroses, also done by hand and in a style that could only be Peeta's. I tiptoe over to the glass window, and bring my hand to it. I don't dare touch it but I trace the words with my fingers in the air. I trace only what I can reach, the rest I simply gaze at, admiring the beauty that is done by Peeta's hands.
"Do you like it?" asks Peeta.
"I love it," I whisper.
He envelops me in another hug, and kisses my forehead lightly. "She would have loved it Peeta, she really would have."
"I hope she can see it, wherever she is right now."
I smile against his ear, and then pull away. He takes my hand, and leads me back to the house. When we arrive back to the Victor's Village the sun is setting, and it beams Peeta's favorite color. "Look", I say, "It's you're favorite color painted in the sky."
"Yeah," he answers, "yeah it is. But I have something much more beautiful standing right next to me."
I can't help but blush and flash him a girlish smile. He throws his arm around me, and pulls me close to him so that my head can rest on his shoulder. He plants a kiss soft as air on my head, so soft that I can barely even feel it. Then I hear him smile. "So…", he says, "I made some lamb stew, and I've got some fresh made cheese buns on the island. I don't know if you would want-"
"Yes!" I interject, "Yes I want some!"
He deeply chuckles, one that comes straight from the gut. "Well then let's waste no time! Food awaits!" He sashays us both through the door and into the kitchen; I laugh the whole way there, but not because it's funny but because I am happy, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.
"You are quite the soup stirrer over there," he remarks as I sway to the soft music playing in the background while simultaneously stirring the lamb stew. He looks at me like I have three heads, and guffaws to the floor. After calming himself, he gathers up the strength to walk over to me. He then sweeps me into his arms, and we dance around the kitchen. His arm is wrapped around my waist and his other handclasps my own. He wears a boyish grin on his face, and I can't contain my giggles. We go from a slow dance to skipping around the room wrapped in each other's arms. As we round the island Peeta's foot catches on the jagged edge of the counter, and we both tumble down in a fit of giggles and screams. We twist as we cascade down to the tile floor, causing him to land on top of me. I can feel the vibrations of his vocal chords against my neck as he apologizes for tripping. I can't breathe or speak because I am laughing too hard, and that just makes him laugh.
He props himself up with his arms, and hovers above me. His deep blue eyes, and his dreamlike smile put me in a haze. I hadn't identified with these feelings I possessed until this morning when he almost kissed me, and almost none of it makes sense. Especially why he hasn't kissed me yet, this is the perfect time, and I just know my eyes are begging for it. Instead of closing the ever-present gap between us he rolls off of me and onto the space next to my body.
My hands make fists in anger, and I force myself up from the floor so that I don't do something stupid like lean over and kiss him myself. If he doesn't feel the same, then I can't let him know I feel this way at all, even though I am almost positive that my feeling is requited. I hate this. I don't want to be that teenage girl obsessed with a boy, so I decide that I am above it. Then I shake it off, except that only lasts until he touches my hip gingerly with his fingertips and I go back to being a boy obsessed teenage girl. The promise I made to myself lasted a whole two minutes. I congratulate myself on that accomplishment.
"I think the soup is ready," I state, my voice a bit shaky.
"Perfect, the cheese buns are waiting!" He beams.
"Lovely," I say agitated. Peeta gives me a strange look. He knows I adore his cheese buns so he is probably wondering what has put me in sudden bad humor. Little does he know his cheese buns have done nothing wrong, who doesn't love a cheese bun. It's him causing the problem, and really he hasn't done anything wrong accept make me want him. Badly. And right now and I hate him for it, and love him for it at the same time. I've never felt so alive. Every part of me is burning, and this flame cannot be put out. Every part of me tingles when he grins at me. I can't take my eyes off of him the whole dinner, and he can tell something is up.
"Do I have something on my face?" He asks, and wipes his face with his hands.
"Oh no. No," I reply finally averting my gaze, and focusing on my reflection in the spoon.
He looks at me quizzically, "Then why are you staring at me?"
I shrug, "No reason, except that you're straight across from me. You are in the way of my view."
"View of what? The staircase?"
"Why yes," I say, "you know that is made of mahogany," I mock Efiie.
A sad smile grows upon his face, "That reminds me, Haymitch wanted to talk to you as soon as possible by the way. It's important, you should go after dinner."
I set down my spoon, just by looking into his eyes I can see that whatever it is Haymitch needs to talk to me about is not about puppies and rainbows. "I'll go now," I say worried.
I'm standing up from my chair when Peeta blurts out, "Why don't you just wait until the end of dinner?"
I grit my teeth, I simply want to be in on whatever is happening. Before I can respond he begins to speak again, "We are just having such a good night, I don't want any of that to get ruined because the news-"
"Wait," I cut in, "You know what it is?"
Peeta clears his throat, "I made him tell me, I just wanted to know what I would be dealing with. How it would affect you, how it would affect us."
"Us?" I remark, and then ask what has been on my mind the whole evening, "Is there an us?"
In response he shrugs, "I don't know Katniss." Peeta rubs the back of his neck in discomfort before he speaks again, "It's not like we can deny, or at least I can't, what we feel for each other. I never know with you though, if it's real or not. I've never stopped loving you. But I don't know if you ever started loving me."
I want to tell him that I love him, that I started loving him the moment he hit the force field. The moment I realized that if he died, I died too and that losing him meant losing myself. But it doesn't seem like the right time so I bottle it inside, and wait for the day when it will explode. I keep quiet for a few moments before whispering, "I did."
Before he has the chance to respond I speed walk out of the house only to find myself hit with the frostiness of the outside. The air is almost as bitter as I. Dashing to Haymitch's house feels like minutes instead of seconds, and I burst through his door without so much as a knock. I holler his name, and someone moans in response. I find him slumped in a crimson velvet chair. His shirt and pants are stained with alcohol, and the room reeks of a bad hangover. I cover my nose with my shirt, well actually its Peeta's shirt. I didn't realize that I had on his t-shirt until now. After idling for a few minutes I stop avoiding the inevitable, and get it over with.
"Peeta told me that you had news to give me. What is it?" I demand.
He howls. "Sweetheart, why didn't the boy tell you?"
"Because you're suppose to!" I snarl.
His eyes roll in my direction, "Don't get angry, sweetheart."
"What's the news I want to get out of here before I puke," I spit.
He exhales like he's taking a weight off his shoulders, "Effie's dead. They found her body in Snow's rose garden, and they found your sister's remains. Both of them are being delivered here two weeks from now. They are in the labs now, making sure they are indeed who they expect."
My lips quivers and my hands shake, "How bad were they?"
He grazes my hand, "Prim's were unrecognizable, and Effie's were all too recognizable."
"How'd she die?" I ask uniformly.
"Beaten to death. Tortured. They think she's been dead for a few weeks. No one knows who killed her. As of Prim, well you know that."
"It was definitely his?"
In answer he gives a somber nod of his head.
I screech, and hold back the pools of tears forming in my eyes. "Thank you," is all I can say to him. As I turn away I believe that I see his deep green eyes glossy with tears as well, but I don't know, and I will never know.
When I reach the outside again I am greeted with the same bitter air as before. My whole being feels numb. I feel as if my heart has stopped feeling, but is still beating, still keeping me breathing. Even though I do not want to breathe, I don't even want to be alive right now.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Peeta standing on his porch with fists way deep in his pockets. I want to run to him, but I can't move. I cannot speak nor fathom what my life has become. My life has become living death, and none of this seems right. It feels like one of my nightmares, and when I wake up Peeta's arms will be around me and his soothing voice will be calming me. But this is not a nightmare, this is my life, and no one is going to be waking me up any time soon. I slump to the ground with a distressed moan, and my body folds up. The tears come without me even knowing, and the troubled wails come as well. I seal my eyes shut, and let the sobs rattle my body. Throughout the whole episode I focus on the rough jagged edges of the frosted wood. It feels like sandpaper against my bare skin, and I writhe against it just to feel alive; to feel something other than numb. I break my focus away from the wood when I feel hands raising me above it. Warm, calloused, dry hands, hands I know so well. The only hands I want to feel against my skin. I focus on there warmth and how it sends shivers through my body.
I don't, I can't, focus on the pain for it makes it more painful, evermore difficult to bear. He lightens the burden though; he holds me and all of my troubles. His weight is twice as much as mine, because he carries it for the both of us.
I've soiled the shoulder of his shirt with warm salty tears. And his own tears have fallen on the crown of my head. After what feels like hours of walking I am laid down on bed sheets. Cold, unwelcoming bed sheets.
"Katniss," he mumbles and pushes my hair back, "Sh. Sh. I'm here. No one is going to hurt you. I'm here. They can't hurt you anymore," he whispers.
"They already did," I yelp, "I'm broken. You can't fix me. Just stop trying for your own good. Get out of here."
His mouth falls into a line and he shakes his head, "I am never leaving you. I'm here to fix those broken pieces. To put them back together," he pauses for a moment and I stare at him in shock, "Just like one would put back together a broken mirror, I will put you back together. And I know some of the pieces will be sharp, and sever my skin, but I won't stop until I can see you in that mirror again. And your reflection will be picturesque."
"No!" I scream. "You'll ruin your life trying to fix me!"
"My life already has been ruined. So has yours," he pulls me back into his arms, "I lost you, and when I did all my nightmares became reality. They took you away from me, in the most personal way. My own ideal was that you were a murderer that you were out to have my head on a stake. And my mind was bound in chains. Only a small part, could remember how much I loved you," I go to rebut but he puts his thumb over my lips, "How much I still love you, and how much I always will."
Suddenly he knots his hands with my hair, and presses his lips to mine. They are wet with his words, and warmed by his inner fire. The hunger flourishes inside of me once more, and spreads throughout my being. Warming every part of me, and driving my heart and mind to madness. I know I will not be the first to pull away, because it feels so good, so impossibly good.
And I am not. Peeta pulls away first, trying to catch his breath even though our kiss only lasted for a few seconds. "Katniss," he whispers, "I'm sorry. I don't want to complicate things between us. I was fine where we were. I am sorry."
"I'm not," I state boldly.
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, "You're not what?"
"Sorry."
"You mean you liked what just happened? You-"
"Yes," I cut in, "I liked it."
"But where does that leave us? Still just friends who sleep together?"
"I don't think we are destined to be just friends," is the answer I give him.
I can tell he doesn't know what to say by the way he is biting his lips. He settles me down on the bed, and gets up. Leaving me alone. He paces around at the foot of the bed. Is he doing this to confuse me, because he surely has?
"I shouldn't have kissed you just then, you were crying and vulnerable," he says barely above a whisper.
I shake my head, "Then you should have kissed me those other two thousand times that you were about to today!"
"It wasn't that many times Katniss. I don't know what to do about us. I don't want to hurt you. I'm a ticking time bomb for a flashback. I could kill you."
"What are you saying?" I ask.
"I'm just saying that I don't know what to do about us."
I gnash my teeth together; "Well you should have figured that out before you kissed me, so why don't you let me know when you have got this figured out."
I storm out of his room in a fit of anger. I can hear him screaming my name, but everything sounds muffled. And soon enough I am exposed to that bitter air again, and I'm running through it. I push the door open, and am greeted by darkness. The furniture is dusty, and the floors creak every time you take a step. It harvests bad memories, but it's my house, never my home. There is a pile of mail sitting my counter, and I decide to go through that since I know I will not sleep tonight. Most of them are from the capitol, checking on me. One is from my therapist; I chuck that into the garbage without a second thought. Most of them also find a home in the garbage, except for two. One is from my mother, and the other is from Peeta. Obviously Peeta's letter is older but still I will open it.
I peel opens my mother's first. She asks me how I am, tells me about all of the healing she is doing. Asks if Peeta is well, and if things between us resemble some kind of normalcy. They were until tonight, I think. But then again things between Peeta and us will never be normal, but we've both accepted that. She demands I call her because she misses me terribly. Then she tells me that she loves me, and signs her name.
Next I go to Peeta's letter. I have not a clue what it will be about.
I rip it open, and find a parchment paper inside. It's a short letter, but by just looking at it I can sense that it holds his feelings.
My dearest Katniss,
I am coming home soon. Please do not lose faith me. The doctors say I can remember everything clearly again accept for one thing. That thing is you. My vision of you is still hazy, so they believe. But I know differently. My vision of you is crystal clear. I see you in the forest outside my window, and the painting of a lake that hangs above me. I see you in the messy sheets of my bed, and I see you in the primrose flowers that grow at the edge of windows. All I want is to see you for real, in front of me, with your stunning grey eyes burning into me, making my blood boil, and putting my stomach in ropes. I am coming home. I am coming home. I am coming home, and I hope that I can find my true home in you.
Tears well up at the corner of my eyes, but I force them back. I snatch a frame from the corner of the coffee table and tear the picture of fake flowers from it.
In its place I put Peeta's letter. Then I set back where it was, and eye it for a while.
