Here it is finally, the one-shot that I have been meaning to work on; I can't believe it is finally finished! I actually had three completely different stories for this plot but in the end I went with third which I only thought up about a month ago but I do love this idea and hope you could too!
I'd like to point out a few small changes that are in this story. First off, Peeta is taller than Josh Hutcherson in this since most of you are imagining him as Josh (I personally never have thought of him as Josh.) But this is important to the story anyways. Second, Katniss is smaller than Jennifer Lawrence. Get it? Good.
Also this is the first time I've ever written in third-person but I'd be lying to say I did not enjoy it. Well I hope you enjoy, this is the longest chapter to a story I've ever written being over 6000 words.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
Warning: Mentions of abuse and car accidents.
I'm Not Him
Katniss is awoken gasping for the air that her lungs had been so deprived of during the nightmare. The woodsy green comforter of her bed clings to her sticky sweat laden body. As reality gradually comes back she places a hot hand to her temple recalling those terrifying events from the past. It feels like the room is closing in on her as she struggles to regain reality; trying to take normal breaths once again she clambers out of bed and staggers across her cream carpet to the moonlit panes of the window. It makes it's familiar noisy squeak as she unlatches and slides it up. Katniss could care less if her mother heard. Her mother, still held onto her dead fathers belongings; she had her good and bad days. Azalea, her mother, could be found down the hall; as of now she was stable and kept a job but what she'd allowed her only daughter to endure was unforgivable in Katniss' eyes.
With a deep sigh Katniss kneels before the window and rest her elbows on the cool sill. In the moonlight her body is slick and shiny with sweat, but slowly as time in the window is spent her wet skin is dried by gusts of nippy wind like the way dew evaporates from grass. The outdoors help her feel better most of the time, many of her days in school she spends gazing out the windows.
Her molten gray eyes are focused on the wind rustling the branches of an ancient oak tree in her yard. The sound is no different than the one of waves crashing on sand. It soothes her.
It was odd, she thought wistfully, how you encounter so many people in your lifetime but remember so few. Those who you did recall usually show out in your mind immensely. Kind of like a fully-lit skyscraper amongst a vast, empty flat land.
There had been a few people significant to cross the path of the ever so lonely Katniss Everdeen. Many were bad, but of those a few good; there was a particular one whom she owed her life to.
At eleven her father passed due to a fault in the system of the mines in which he had worked in, he was blown to pieces; needless to say her innocence died along with him. Along came a man, immediately her mother ran to him looking for security and structure in her life but instead brought harm to her helpless daughter. Her nightmares began when he started abusing Katniss; she hasn't been the same since, although she wasn't broken either. Katniss is strong-spirited and independent but has her weak moments behind closed doors.
But ultimately, when all things were looking down she had found good beyond the bad, it was small at first, and those things made her smile. Occasionly there was a faint tap on the glass followed by a bag of warm cookies in the ledge of her window. Then one night, a cold rainy one, she stumbled through the mud of the small town they lived in to find nothing, with an empty stomach and sorrowful heart she squirmed back inside her window. The monster of a step-father had been starving her, he locked her in her room fully knowing she could get out of the window, he didn't mind because he knew she wouldn't get anywhere. Katniss had always been to stubborn and prideful to accept charity.
But when it was all hopeless there was that small knock on her window, and she knew it wasn't the rain. It was him, she had scrambled up her past fatigue forgotten and replaced solely by determination to catch a glimpse of the mysterious person. But he had been quick, she only caught a glimpse of his glowing sandy-blonde hair. She was fast, but too late to open the window and persue him, Katniss' eyes had widened when she saw not one bag but four. The starving girl feasted that night, he had given her enough food and more. But most importantly she had hope. That hope fed the fire in her stomach and the will to survive.
After a while things clicked together, all the foods were bakery ones, and once she caught a peek of his silhouette; she had seen his blue eyes and the frame of his body. She'd recognized him from school. It was then she was certain he was the kind baker's son, the youngest one, Peeta Mellark.
These random acts of kindness slowed down when her stepfather was gone. As if Peeta somehow knew. But still to this day she sometimes received a small thing, like a warm buttery cookie or a chunk of hearty blueberry danish in her window. Every time she vividly remembered his kindness with a lighthearted smile while she ate.
Afterwards, to this day, she slightly feared men; a result to the beatings she received. Katniss spent an unbelievable amount of time wondering why her stepfather did such thing's to her but only came up with one plausible explanation: some people were heartless.
After a while her breathing calmed, but her mind swirled with thoughts as she gazed out the window in which he'd came to so many times. In all knowing someone was watching out for her gave a sense of comfort, it made her feel less alone. With heavy eyes she turned away from her spot in front of the window and sat beneath it. She had her knees tucked beneath her and her bony fists snugly placed at the warm hollow of her throat.
The low chirp of the crickets encompassed her and then, all at once, that wasn't the only sound. It was maybe less than two blocks away, and ever loud to her ears. Tires screeched and then a blood-curling sound of a car hitting something with great impact. All comfort and peace fled her body, she sprung up, eyes wide.
Katniss wondered if she should stay or should go and see what had happened.
Her mind ran a mile a minute. If it's something I could do and help someone then I'd regret not going. And frankly, it sounded like a bad car crash.
And so, she did, not thinking once more, with swiftness she squirmed out of the window of her one-story house. Her bare feet hit the grass covered ground with a thunk, the soft blades of it tickled between her toes. The worried girl broke off into a sprint down the old falling apart road, the asphalt was merciless on her feet but she persists with determination to find out what had went wrong, and maybe get there in time to do something of use. Maybe she wouldn't feel so worthless if she could.
Katniss runs, her heart slams into her ribcage furiously; each breath is a large intake of crisp air that stings her sore throat. In her temples there's a hot incessant pulsing that bounces around her skull. This road she's traveled so many times had seemed short, but now the journey appeared to be so long. But it wasn't every day that disasters happened in her small town.
Ahead the inky darkness faded because a flickering streetlight was there.
She halted and took a sharp gasp of horror when her eyes finally saw the scene before her. There in the shadows you could see the whole front end of a truck was smashed into the base of a dense tree.
What if there wasn't survivors; what lies before me?
Unfazed by fear she darts forward to the passenger side door which had been dented and crunched up like a soda can. It fell open with ease when her olive-toned hand tugged it, she was momentarily afraid the creaky door was about to fall off the hinges and crush her whole. That was forgotten when she saw him, the boy who'd saved her barely conscious behind the wheel. Peeta.
An immense limb of the sturdy willow tree had went straight through the middle of the cab, it separated her from reaching him. She slid beneath it, it'd barely missed him, if it was only slightly over a bit more he'd certainly be dead.
She swallowed thickly trying to relive the tension in her throat and heart. Although it did nothing to alleviate it. Her small body fell into his, he hoarsely groaned, she shuddered, she still had problems being this close to guys. To reach him entirely she had to sit in his lap, the branch had struck through the middle. This way was better though because she could use her weight to help hold him down if he lost his calm. The branch loomed so close to them that it's leafy branches brushed her goose-bump covered arm even when she was on him.
She imagined she was sitting in her fathers lap to keep calm. With dilated grey eyes she looked up and his blue ones gazed back at her, beyond them his face had wounds. Katniss' body shook with adrenaline as she peered at him checking for the inevitable wounds that'd come with such an accident. Metallic blood dribbled from his chapped lips, and there was a nice bloody patch on the crown of his head where his blonde hair laid.
I'm not a healer like my mother but surely I can help, I must, I owe him.
She gulped and looked back to Peeta. "Hi, I'm just going to see what I can do for you until help comes," she murmured shakily. It was her weak attempt to be comforting in such a time as now.
"Hi," he replied distantly with glazed blue eyes. With his conditions he was hanging on to consciousness, and probably not thinking straight.
She'd regret not bringing her mother, but now wasn't a time to dwell on it. Wordlessly Katniss tore a patch of his long sleeve shirt from his chest, before she shakily dabbed at his temples shimmering in the dim light with blood.
Her mind was blank on what to do so without hesitation she ripped his sleeve off running with the energy pulsing in her veins. It came off revealing a muscled arm in the dim light, she quickly pulled it up to his forehead and tied it around to staunch the blood. A hiss escaped her mouth as her bare foot made contact with something sharp. There when she looked down was a gleaming shard of glass from the busted windshield, it'd stuck in the heel of her foot. It was around the size of a quarter, she pulled it out with squinted eyes and hurled it away. Peeta was her main priority. She swiped at his lips covered in blood, then when she found the source of it she placed the pad of her thumb against it. Beneath her fingers sticky with blood his warm lips quivered as if he was trying to speak. She looked directly at his unreadable gaze."Ssh, you're going to be okay, stay still."
His hoarse, faint, response wasn't what she expected. "Are you an angel?"
He's not thinking straight, she reminded herself, I just need to keep him awake. Katniss feared if she let his eyes close they might never open again. She desperately hoped someone nearby had already called paramedics, she couldn't leave Peeta to die.
"No," she mustered sternly her voice and eyes softened when she reminded herself how huge of a roll he had in her life. "I'm just helping you because you helped me."
It didn't matter to him, only to her that she stayed. After all, he wouldn't remember this later, he was half alert with an injury to the head. And possibly in shock by the way his eyes looked.
"Oh," he piped up softly, "you don't have to."
"No, I don't, " she agreed, "but I should, I owe you."
It was stressing her that his eyes were drowsy, creased in the corners longing for sleep. "You stay awake," she warned, her eyes narrowed at his state. She wasn't about to let him die.
He nodded. "Yeah," he said blankly, hollowly, not really paying attention.
"Hey Peeta." She snapped her fingers in front of his face, he looked up at her when his name fell from her lips.
"Hmm?" He weakly groaned.
"Do you have anymore injures?" She implored demandingly, firmly stroking his cheeks in rough circles in hopes the movement would wake him more.
"My left leg. . . I t-think," He croaked with a stutter. Immediately she slid down to his where his legs were her feet balancing on the jammed gas pedal. "Don't, g-glass," he cried and tried to grasp her arms and pull her back to him, she refused.
"Stop!" Stubbornly she hit his hands away frustrated, down here she could smell rotting flesh and was determined to find the wound in the darkness. She noted how he stuttered and began to struggle on words, she'd watched him interact with people, he was brilliant with words, now she worried further at his lack of them.
When Katniss gave up on trying to see in the darkness on the glass-covered floorboards she pulled his left leg up and balanced his tennis shoe clad foot on the steering wheel. She gasped, an enormous gash there caused blood to gush out from his calf incessantly.
Her hands tore the the rest of his shirt off and wrapped the wound, blood seeped through the frayed fabric almost instantly. Her homemade tourniquet would fail it wasn't strong enough.
An idea struck her mind, her cheeks heated. She closed her eyes the decision already made. Her hands shook as she pulled the hem of her old t-shirt off leaving her in nothing but a bra. She worried her lip with her teeth as she firmly knotted the fabric overlapping the blood soaked one. Afterwards she nervously clambered back to his lap; their bare stomachs pressed together.
His eyes widened at the sight of her. "You didn't have to-to do th-at!"
She hushed him keeping eye contact with him. "We look out for each course it's worth it." She only was brave enough to say it because he wouldn't remember her words.
It was only light then it pierced the still air with a great intensity. Sirens. Help. "Finally," she muttered opening the door and slipping off Peeta into the grass once again.
"Katniss." It was the first time she heard him say her name. She turned being met by his gaze. "Thank you."
The harsh wail of the sirens became closer.
She nodded and glanced at him once more before she breathlessly sprinted back home on raw, blistering, feet.
He watched her leave in wonder, she'd cared for him. His breath caught at such a thought.
Each gust of wind was so rough the windows in the house rattled. Across the room Katniss sat at her white-wooded desk trying to complete the math homework which had been assigned to her a week ago. She had put it off until the last minute, but no matter how hard or how long she stared at it the questions seemed to be a foreign language to her eyes. With a heavy sigh she rubs the pads of her fingers against her temple, but the light pressure she applies doesn't delay the persistent headache from coming on. Exhausted, and confused beyond belief the wooden pencil falls from her clammy hands and hits the paper with a thud, she spins her chair to the window. There's only a feeble amount of light filing in but it's nothing unexpected as the sun has been obscured by a dark cloak of clouds.
With a prominent scowl on her face directed at the weather she ambles out of her room and crosses through the beige hallways that are bathed in an unnatural light. Strewn across the countertops of the kitchen is the crumbs of last night's dinner that her mother had failed to clean.
I can practically hear the cockroaches galloping in already, she grumbles in her mind with a long-drawn outward sigh. Most of the times she felt that the positions were reversed, rather that she was the mother not the child.
Flicking on the lights she wets a rag and dumps bubbly green dish soap on it before squeezing it out and briskly wiping the counters down. The rough movements of her elbow causes little bits of black hair to come loose from her rugged braid before it comes to lie across her flushed cheeks, it's annoying to her and feels like spider webs attacking her face. Katniss has contemplated cutting her hair short before and it's times like this she does again, although one thing is true, she never proceeds with it no matter how much she tells herself she will.
Afterwards the tired girl stalks to the fridge and feels her chest lighten when she finds a frozen, two-servings dinner untouched. A pot of pre-packaged Marconi and cheese is the closest she gets to home-cooked meals so finding something edible that she can pop in the microwave is a relief.
The parmesan chicken alfredo slowly spins in taunting circles beneath the golden light of the microwave as it thaws. Wearily, Katniss bends her elbows on the cold counter that's still damp from being cleaned recently. She watches ravenously easing her head down to her lifted palms. The dark-haired girl's head tilts up as the small window in the kitchen that continuously shakes and creaks like one would in a horror movie. From where she stands she can see the crumbling two-laned road she had scurried down that night of the accident.
Words traveled fast and the story of the crash had fallen on everyone's ears by the next morning. Katniss hadn't been caught but the paramedics had recounted that Peeta had been patched up by the time they arrived. If Peeta knew who'd done it he didn't tell them so, it was a mystery of who helped him and didn't take credit. For a while people wondered who had done this; although after a week it faded and was hardly mentioned as a new topic arose in the small town.
At school Katniss had heard the news of Peeta's progress from the mouths of two girls.
"Did you hear Peeta Mellark almost lost his leg?" The one curvy brunette girl had murmured to the other in the halls.
Her blonde friend had gasped, eyes wide at the news. "No," she said clearly intrigued, "how long will he be in the hospital?"
"I heard a month at the longest, surprisingly he's making a full recovery."
It was unbelievable how much relief it gave her to hear so.
Everything was back to normal within three weeks time. Katniss didn't feel so indebted to Peeta after the accident. It'd been a long time coming, she was always looking at ways to pay him back. Her gratitude to him seems like it'd never vanish but this was something, maybe over time it could fade.
It slightly bothered her he wouldn't remember anything due to head he had lived she countlessly reminded herself all the time.
All the sudden a heap of leaves bursts up and slides across the windows glass, Katniss watches in fascination. But frowns when she realizes what the weather could lead to. There better not be a tornado near here, I've had enough disasters in one month.
The microwave beeper goes off in a shrill noise and Katniss immediately gets it out. She proceeds to scarf down half the container then places clear foil wrap over the other half and leaves it in the fridge for her mother.
With a fresh mind she goes back to her room prepared to figure out something to write on her homework page despite the fact that she doesn't understand any of it. The girl opens her door and glances at the clanking window, there is a flash of a dull brown. Her eyes snap back instantly and she sharply gasps in shock. There on the windows ledge is a paper bag; Peeta has come back.
In a deft movement she crosses to the window and throws it open with her nimble arms. I'm too late he's gone, he's been gone.
She ponders her thoughts.
Surely he doesn't remember. He's only doing this like he does occasionally. Whatever this is will make a nice desert though.
Katniss grasps the hem of the folded paper bag and glides to her desk. The aromatic smell of her favorite chocolate chip cookies wafts out as she opens it. Cautiously she picks one up, she notes that it's still warm; the edges are golden and the entire thing is speckled in a myriad of chocolate chips, there are two in the bag, each the size of both of her fists tucked together. A content sigh escapes her mouth as she slouches back in her chair and eats the moist, buttery, cookie like she had many other nights.
The girl decides to leave the other one for her mother, sweets were a luxury to what was left of her family and she didn't want to be gluttonous and inconsiderate. As she was about to close the bag a slab of white peeked out from the under the second cookie. With a fluid moment she curiously plucks at it, a slip of pristine whote paper follows.
A note. Her mouth gapes at what it says.
I'll be outside your window tomorrow around 8. Could we meet?
The blood drained from her face. He never left notes or anything like this before. Accepting the small gifts he's freely given for years is one thing but talking to him, that was crossing the line. She was okay with murmuring reassurances to him while he grasped consciousness and wouldn't remember, but then it was a time she didn't have herself in mind. Why would he want to talk to me?
And suddenly she didn't feel too well as two more questions intruded her mind and dwelled there far longer than they were welcome.
What if Peeta Mellark remembers my efforts to save his life? What if he remembers my words?
Anxious to find out yet scared to know Katniss emerges from her window and falls feet first into the grass; it's nothing unlike the way she did the night of Peeta's accident.
She's shakes with nerves and uncertainty, the insides of her stomach are turmoil along with her head. Every time there's a occasion where she has to speak to a boy she hates every second of it because in a way there's just some quality each boy has that reminds her of him; of her step-father. So most of the times she tries to completely avoid situations such as the one right now. But this an exception, she is too questioning on the matter and answers are deeply desired by her. Katniss can't help but feel like there's some unspoken connection between her and Peeta by the past, like this was bound to happen either way.
Rather than coming out bare footed this time she wears old boots that fit a little too tight and protect her feet from the cold wet grass. The dreary day is far to similar to the one when she was starving for her taste.
Deliberately she trails to the old, wide-trunked tree in her side yard; it's not far from her window. She leans back against it. Despite the gray long sleeved shirt Katniss wears that day she can feel the bark of the tree pressing in a rough and scratchy texture against the planes of her shoulders.
Sunset diminishes and nightfall arises, she has come slightly early. Discomfort swells in her chest, now she's thinking about going back in her window and hiding before he gets here.
Then she knows that no longer is a choice when she sees the silhouette of his broad form appear around to the side yard, right outside her window, as promised.
Maybe I could tuck myself against the trees trunk and hide, she thinks jitterishly as he scopes out the area. Her heart constricts and she know she can't do that, there's no scampering away this time. Intending to grab his attention and confirm that she has shown she eases her weight off the base of the tree.
I am brave. I am brave. I am brave.
"Peeta," her voice is far from even-toned and she mentally curses.
He turns to her direction in an instant. Katniss gulps and squares her shoulders to make her seem more eased than she actually is. Finally she ducks out from beneath the low-hanging branch that had hidden her from his eyes, she defiantly strides up to him. Nervousness claws at her as she fidgets with the ends of her sleeves that reach her knuckles. It's harder to be close than watch him from afar.
"Katniss," he breathes his gaze openly roaming over her as she does the same to him.
He's much more intimidating standing at his full height than he was that one night while he was sitting. Her irises flick over his toned body and dense neck. Peeta stands towering over her while she suppresses a shudder. Katniss knew he was on top in the wrestling team but she hadn't paid attention. This is the boy who she saved and he doesn't even know it.
Their eyes meet she sees his eyes that are the same beautiful blue they were earlier that month. His features are soft and kind but she is weary of him.
"Thank you," she murmurs her voice brittle "for the sweets and everything."
Peeta warmly smiles at her, his eyes crinkle like crows feet in the corners; she looks at the vivacious grass blanketed in water droplets as her stick-like fingers move to the tail of her braid. Katniss finds it hard to stare him in the eyes, it is like staring at the sun.
"Anytime," he says softly eyes looking at her with awe. He's not blind to see that she's unsettled in his presence; he desperately wishes to fix that.
Not knowing how much longer she can stand the scrutiny of his azure stare she snaps to the point rather rudely.
"So what are you doing here?"
After all, he doesn't remember. She reminds herself.
His hand finds the nape of his neck slightly put off by her bitter tone before he quickly pulls himself back together. "I. . . uh wanted to thank you actually."
"Thank me? For what?" Katniss questions stricken by surprise as she eyes him skeptically.
The blue in his gaze is intense, it burns like the blue flames at the bottom of a fire. Suddenly a rough tug is evoked in the pits of her stomach, the feeling is breathtaking no different from the thrill of rushing downwards on a rollercoaster.
"For saving me," he answers a thoughtful expression on his pale-skinned face.
"Oh," Katniss breathily gasps in sheer shock. She had honestly not expected him to remember that, it seemed impossible, but he's just confirmed it's real. Time feels frozen to her.
"Sorry I didn't exactly have control of my words that night but I remember everything clearly." They stand 5 feet away from each other but he makes a move to put less space between them.
Her head snaps up and she glowers at him, it's a silent warning to stop. Katniss isn't sure if she'll be able to take a close proximity with him well.
Heat floods in the apple of her cheeks as thinks of something, he remembers what I look like in my bra. The girl looks up eventually, still flustered and she jumps when she realizes how much height he has on her when he's closer. She makes space between them once again.
Katniss notices how he has soft features though unlike he, her stepfather did. It eases her slightly.
She looks at him with a haunted expression that she fails to conceal. "Is that it," Katniss sourly breaks the silence.
"Yeah. I'll see you around then." The blonde boy offers her a genuinely sweet smile. Her stomach twists and lurches.
Katniss offers him nothing except a scowl. She feels horrible for it too.
She slips through the same window she always has and falls in the empty house. The sour-faced girl can't help but feel so tired of the loneliness; unlike anybody else she does not have any friends to call over.
Moments after returning she finds herself in the hot spray of the shower, but once she returns to her room there's a paper bag in her window.
Even though she finds it hard to accept gifts the grey-eyed girl takes his every time. With a smile.
"Hi Katniss, would you mind if I accompany you on your walk home?" His stocky form comes out of no where really and it appears odd to her that all at once he starts talking to her when he never had until that fateful night. When she looks up she sees Peeta's face that's painted with a bashful smile and his cheeks are rosy. Katniss can't wrap her mind around the way he always seems delighted to be in her presence.
It's with agitation Katniss realizes that she can't tell him no if she wants to because she doesn't own Panem's sidewalk.
"I don't care," she mutters more to her pastel blue satchel filled with school work than to him.
"Cool," he replies immediately with an immeasurable amount of enthusiasm, much more than she had mustered. A smile still resides on his full pink lips despite her sourness previously shown toward him.
I wonder if he ever stops smiling, she thinks to herself.
They walk in silence he itches to wrap his arm around her shoulders and she estimates how long the walk to her house will be, she feels nervous so close to him.
"I wear glasses sometimes, " he eventually breaks the silence between them.
"Glasses?" The girl dumbly reiterates blinking furiously. Katniss wonders if she possibly heard him right. The contours of her face have adopted a brooding look instead of a scowl and he takes great joy in the fact that he could coax the taut look from her face.
"Glasses." He confirms smiling wider than before.
She can't even begin to fathom what broad shouldered Peeta would look like in glasses.
The smiling boy fishes through his pocket and pulls out a pair. "I wear them when I read, just not at school," he answers in a matter-of-fact tone as he places them on the bridge of his nose and blinks his twinkling blue eyes.
The black wide-rimmed frames make him look unbelievably boyish to her. Despite his height that resembled him to her stepfather, Cato, all the intimidation he had planted in her was erased. She shuffles closer feeling safer and more at ease beside him. The blue orbs behind the glass shift to her and he only smiles wider even though she thought it wasn't possible.
Then he does something she didn't expect, he crosses his undoubtedly blue eyes like a father would to a child. She can't help it, her grin breaks through and stretches her face before she can stop it.
His eyes dart to her uplifted lips immediately and brim with happiness. But then the girl realizes what had happened.
Her smile drops but his does not.
Every day from then on they strolled home from school together.
On someday's he'd have wrestling and she'd silently stay and watch. Katniss loved watching him, the boy she saved, do something he was so good and passionate at. She loved watching his strong arms pin thrashing opponents down and winning every match. It never ceased to elicit a hot trembling feeling in her stomach that excited her. And afterwards she'd always wait until he'd shower then walk home with him, either way when she walked home it wasn't alone like it had always been before.
The girl with the single rope-like braid was drawn to the tall curly blonde-haired boy and his gentle nature; this much she knew. He soothed her nightmares, she no longer felt threatened by guys like she had. Her life and mental health was improving drastically. She still never spoke much but he made up for it with his constant talking. Katniss never knew someone could know so much about paint or bread.
Today was strange though. She had watched him wrestle and then he walked with her. But Peeta was tense and kept tousling his golden hair and sighing. The silence between them was odd like before he pulled out his glasses the first day he walked with her.
"Peeta, are you okay?" Katniss finally murmured when they neared her house she had watched him incessantly fumble and shift today and was worried about him.
"Yeah I'm fine just. . . tired," he replied with a wry smile. She didn't believe him but pushed it no further.
Finally they reached the Everdeen household. Like always, the front door was locked but her window wasn't. They both drifted through the side yard to her window, she stopped at it and turned to Peeta. "I'll see you tomorrow, um - get some sleep."
Unlike any other time he didn't answer but instead reached a hand toward her face. She saw the large square hand getting closer and was instantly eight again as she flinched away. Although it never made contact with her face, she opened her eyes and Peeta blinked at her mouth agape in horror. Very unexpectedly and sudden he dropped to his knees and grasped her hands cradling them in his before pressing kisses to her dusky knuckles. She gasped as he continued lavishing her hand in tender brushes of his lips. Both of her small hands were buzzing with untamed energy as he continued to move his velvet like lips across her skin.
After, he placed them at her sides anything but roughly and still he didn't rise to his feet. Right now his face only reached to the expanse over her chest, right over her wildly beating heart; usually he would be a head and a half taller.
"I'll stay on my knees the rest of my life if that's what it takes for you to be comfortable around me," he croons softly slipping a hand up and splaying it at the crook of her neck.
"Why are you doing this?" She whispers in such a small voice and it feels like she can speak no louder.
He doesn't reply. The only sound is the coo of the birds nesting in the oak and the crisp wind whispering in her ear. The silence is deafening to her ears as wonders if she has just lost the boy that kept her company when she has no one else. What if he were to decide I'm such a bland person and I am not worthy of his time? Katniss wonders scared at just the thought.
He places both his warm hands against her cheeks making a cradle for her face before he lies his lips on hers.
She can't even comprehend what is happening because her mind is working so fast. Her frantic mind tells her that Peeta Mellark is kissing her but she has a hard time believing it is as true. But it is true, it lies right before her very eyes.
And he's gentle with the tender kiss; so gentle to her as he repeatedly nudges their mouths together to form a union. Her breathing stops as her heart pounds erratically in her ears, it's her first kiss. The edges of his lips are moist and are firm and warm and soft against hers.
Eventually the seal is broken when he pulls away. The love that is in his eyes radiates from him with such an intensity it overwhelms her. Peeta wraps his strong arms around her stomach tethering her to his chest as he look up at her.
"That's my reason," he finally responds eyes tender as he gingerly he rubs her back in soft circles.
"Oh," she says with a dry throat, her mind is in a war with her heart. It seems like her mind cannot form a coherent thought to save her life.
It seems like hours that they remain in this position her for once towering over him as he patiently waits for her to decide what to do now. And after a while she does just that.
"Would you like to see my house?" She eventually asks, very flushed. The anticipation-filled boy's eyes widen to the size of quarters at her request.
"Yes," he breathes with a smile that can easily puts anyone else's in the world's to shame, "I'd love to."
And she smiles back, for the first time ever as he crawls through the window and falls on the bed with her. He's the first guy to be in her house since her stepfather. They take comfort and great joy in each others company.
She is purely happy, so happy that it radiates from her, she knows only he can give her that happiness she thought had been stolen forever.