The decadent smell of cinnamon rolls drowsily pulls me out of my big, comfy bed. I allow a smile to creep up on me before I realize that if there are cinnamon rolls being made, that can only mean that Peeta is downstairs. What does this mean? I'll think about that while I eat. I stumble down the steps, stopping when I get to the bottom. He's right there, in the kitchen, in his pajamas. Why?
"I couldn't sleep." He answers my unspoken question. "I thought you might want some breakfast."
"I'd love some breakfast." He looks at me for the first time today, and I can see the trace of a smile on his lips. Then I notice his eyes. Oh, how I missed his eyes so much. Clear, and kind, and happy. I pretend not to ignore the slightly tortured look in them threatening to surface. Suddenly, words start to tumble out of my mouth again. "Peeta, I know we're not just going to go back to normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore. But we can't pretend." He is still looking at me, although now he is curious. I stare down at the floor, because I don't know what to do next.
"If we're not going to be playing pretend, Katniss, then I need to know what's real." He pauses before speaking again. "There's still a lot of things I can't recall. If we're not going to be doing any pretending, then I need your help."
I realize that we're standing closer together than I thought. He is right in front of me, reaching out to caress my cheek. I let him. "Are we real?" He whispers. I answer him by leaning forward and gently kissing him on the lips.
Before I know what I'm doing, my hands are in his hair, pulling him closer to me. I hadn't realized how much I missed his gentle touch, his sparkling blue eyes. He tastes like cinnamon, like happiness. My happiness. I need this. I need him. And suddenly, I know the answer to his question. "We are most definitely real." I whisper back.
"Good." He smiles. "Maybe we can start from there." He hands me a plate. "Hungry?" He asks. I nod, and he puts the biggest cinnamon roll on my plate. It's the best tasting thing I've had in ages, and I proceed to eat another one. Every once in a while, I actually have to remind myself to chew.
"So what do you want to do today?" I ask. He hesitates for a moment, takes a bite of his cinnamon roll, and turns to me.
"I haven't walked through town yet. I know it might be hard, but-"
"We promised, no pretending." I finish for him. He smiles.
"Ya." He says. "We did, didn't we?"
The cinnamon rolls are ate, the dishes are washed, and I'm standing on my front step with Peeta. I can't help but recall the first moments that I saw the remains of District 12. That in itself was difficult enough, and Peeta lost his family in the bombing. I wonder if this will bring on a flashback. Should I try to stay near people, in case I need help? No. Peeta promised me that we are real, and that means that I trust him. He deserves that. He deserves more than that, too, but trust is all I can promise him at the moment. We start to walk.
When we reach the edge of town, Peeta takes a shaky breath. I slip my small, scarred hand in his strong, warm one and we continue walking. He sees the mutilated remains of citizens scattered across the barren wasteland that used to be District 12. Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks and drops my hand. I know what is happening even before he does, although I have never been with him when he had a flashback before. What should I do? I wonder. Peeta crumples to the ground, whispering things to himself like "Not a murderer" and "This is not real". I stand, watching him, trying to figure out what I should do. We're real, right? That means I should help him. He needs me to get through this.
"Peeta?" I ask gently. "Can you…can you h-hear me?" I try desperately to get through to him.
He clenches and unclenches his fists. "K-Katni-Katniss?" He manages to get out. I kneel down beside him.
"Yes Peeta, I'm right here. Are you ok?" I somehow find strength in my voice, and then I realize why. It's Peeta. The boy with the bread has given me a strength that I hadn't realized I possessed until just now, when he needed that strength from me. "Peeta…I love you." I breathe. Did that really just come out of my mouth? Yes. The impact of this realization hits me full-force and the air is knocked out of me. I love Peeta. Now that I have said it, I realize that nothing is more true than this. Why didn't I see it before?
Peeta looks up, the tortured look in his eyes replaced with joy. "Really?" He breathes.
"Really." I whisper. The smile on his face is bigger than it's ever been before. He is practically beaming. This makes me smile too.
He takes a deep breath. "Katniss…" He begins. "I don't deserve you. Once his words sink in, I can't help but laugh out loud. He looks at me quizzically.
"Peeta, don't ever think that. You deserve much, much better than me. I'm the one that doesn't deserve you. Haymitch even says so himself." I add with a twinkle in my eye. Peeta laughs. Not a fake laugh, not a that-wasn't-funny laugh, but a real, throaty laugh that makes me believe for just a second that I might just be able to get the old Peeta back, if I try hard enough. I put my hand in his once again, and we continue walking.
