A/N: So, here is the same scene but from Peeta's POV. He was so difficult to write because I had to decide how I wanted him to think based on the interactions in the book. I also didn't want him to sound like Katniss, because they think differently. It is also hard to write in present tense and I kept trying to switch to past because that is what I'm used to. If missed anything, used the wrong form of a verb, point it out and I'll fix it. I hope you enjoy this chapter and my take on Peeta's thoughts on this whole thing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and thank you to those that reviewed already. ^_^ You guys are awesome.
The Fatal First Kiss
Peeta's POV
Sleep just wasn't happening. I'd accepted that several hours ago and I found myself on the roof, drinking in that fresh air. Down below, the Capitol was celebrating and it was really hard not to hate them. The thought made me want to laugh more than anything, but really, these people. Was there a more barbaric cause for celebration? If there was, they'd be dancing about that, too. What was the death of a few dozen children to them?
My unease about the Games tomorrow is more or less straight forward. No matter how I play out my choices in my head, they always end up the same. Why fight it? I can't see an outcome that doesn't involve Katniss winning and that meant I'd be losing. See, I really really want that cake, but I can't eat it, too. That wasn't an option, of course. For two people to win. But boy did that cake make my mouth water.
I lean on my elbows on the railing, no longer listening to the crowd below. I've seen the Hunger Games broadcast every year for as long as I can remember. I'm familiar with what goes on in there, the creatures that kids as young, or even younger than me, turn into. That's what scares me the most. I have a lot to handle in this thing. I mean, I was probably the first tribute in the history of ever to go into this with the intent of keeping someone else alive. Just that fact was completely unheard of. But then I also wanted, for myself, to keep my identity. People were going to have to die in there and to keep Katniss alive I would have to sacrifice them, but I would do it on my terms only. Every move I make will be because it's what I want and not what I am supposed to do. That's all I can really do and that's the only thing I want for myself. Besides Katniss.
"You should be getting some sleep."
I tense, but that voice is so familiar I immediately relax. I don't face her when I reply, "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."
She steps next to me and leans on the railing, looking down. Those lights hit her face and it's all I can do to look the other way. It's funny that just looking at her can leave me breathless and then I look at the majesty of the Capitol and find it just doesn't compare. Not even slightly.
"Are they in costumes?" She asks.
"Who could tell?" I answer. "With all the crazy clothes they wear. Couldn't sleep either?"
"Couldn't turn my mind off." She replies.
"Thinking about your family?" I ask, but I assume she is since she rarely thinks of anything else.
"No." She admits. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." She pauses. "I really am sorry about your hands."
My hands. Ha, I haven't even remembered they were cut up. I guess 'cause I know I want to be mad at her for damaging them, but anger was not an emotion I could easily associate with her. "It doesn't matter, Katniss." I say. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."
"That's no way to be thinking." She replies.
"Why not? It's true. My best hope is not to disgrace myself and…" I hesitate.
"And what?" She prompts.
"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only…I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I ask. She doesn't understand. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."
She bites her lip as she answers. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"
"No, when the time comes I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol that they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."
And there's the frown. She doesn't get it. "But you're not." She says. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."
"Okay, but within the framework, there's still you, there's still me." I insist. "Don't you see?"
"A little. Only…no offense, but who cares, Peeta?" She says.
"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I ask angrily. I look into her gray eyes and hold their gaze. I need to hear an answer because I really don't have one myself.
She takes a step back. "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive." She pauses. "Care about getting District 12 a winner for once. Care about going home." She finishes, but the energy has left her argument a bit.
When she looks at me I offer a smile, because she almost makes me want to try, to win. But I know that I can't. It's sort of funny that the only one that can convince me not to give my everything to keep Katniss alive is Katniss.
She continues, "We have a chance this year. Both of us. As long as it's one of us I'll be happy."
"Because I publicly declared my love for you?" I smirk, because it is easier to just play it off as inconsequential. But to me, it is very very consequential. I can't meet her eyes anymore, they're too loud. She may think that she can hide so much, and she mostly can, but I don't know… When I look into her eyes it's like I can hear what she wants to say but won't. Not always, but sometimes and I really don't want to hear them right now. They usually say that she's confused and untrusting of my words on the whole 'love' thing. But mainly, they say that she doesn't share the sentiment.
Silence passes after that and she is pointedly looking away from me, but not before I can see her cheeks fill with pink. I content myself with the silence. I watch Katniss and for a second I try and put to words the way her face is so beautiful. I guess if I was to try and give it a word, she is quietly beautiful. Like you couldn't hear it if you weren't listening. I know she wouldn't understand, but I know I am not the only one to see this.
When you see Katniss, you see dark hair and eyes, olive skin, and full lips. But you also see that stern set to her face. The firm look in her stare that tells you she doesn't want to talk about it. I guess you could see that and be put off, most people are. But I don't see any of that. I never have. I see strength. A strength I can only admire. Her beauty may not jump out at everyone, but for those that know, that get to see her when she isn't putting on a front for cameras, they see how stunning she is. How when you see her for her, no one could ever even hope to compare.
The Capitol could put her in any outfit they wanted, dress her up and smear crap on her eyes and cheeks, but she was never lovelier than when she had her hair in a braid and bare features. I look away, because I know I'm staring too much and I don't want to make her any more squeamish. Even though it's cute; I don't want to make her uncomfortable. But when I glance toward her again, she is the one staring.
"Is there something on my face?" I chuckle.
She shakes her head and closes her eyes, looking the other way. I shake my head, finding this funny. Wow, had I doomed myself with this or what? What a sap. Really, I was a goner from the first time I saw her and I hadn't said two words to her until a few weeks ago. Do I feel pathetic? Not even a little. She was worth it. I knew that much because, from what I have learned to understand, that's how love works. And when you really love someone it doesn't matter. How sappy, how hopeless, how pathetic, I don't care. I love her even more than I love myself and man, the idea is so heavy it makes me consider that gravity is trying extra hard to pull me down.
"Peeta?" She says, but I have to ask her to repeat it because suddenly her voice is as quiet as her steps.
"What's up?" I smile, but she looks apprehensive. I'm curious now. She turns toward me, her arm leaning on the rail.
"Did you mean what you said?"
"Uh, when?" I ask, because really, I've said like a million things since coming here.
"In the interview. About me?"
Oh. That. Well, this was a conversation I would have been happy to avoid. "Why? What does it matter?"
"I matters because I never knew." She starts. "I never knew and I feel like I wish I had."
She couldn't be saying what I hoped, but hope was all I really had right then. "Would that have changed anything?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. Would have changed some things. I didn't even know you liked me."
We pause. She shrugs this off and it seems indifferent, but is it because she doesn't feel anything for me or because she does and doesn't know how to handle it with everything that's happening? Girls were so confusing. I don't even know why she is saying any of this. These are the questions that really set my nerves off, more than any thoughts of Games or death.
"But if it is true." She says after a few seconds and I'm looking at her like I can't see anything else. Because I can't. "If it is true then, I would like to give you something."
"Give me something?" I'm confused, but blissfully curious. I can't help it. What could she possibly want to give me? My mind's racing through options, but she doesn't seem to be holding anything and it's not like her clothes offer a lot of room for concealment.
"Yes." She lifts her chin in the air and peers down her nose at me. "Will you permit me?"
And if anything as the power to completely unravel me, it's this statement that is so formal I know she is covering something. The anticipation is almost killing me, but I know that I can't appear like it is. I give her a smile, "That depends. What do you plan on giving me?"
Flirting. That's what we're doing and my heart is trying to beat its way through my rib cage.
"That's a secret. You have to agree first." She says.
I know that I can't be pulling on her arm, on my knees, pleading with her to just tell me or I'm going to die before I even get out in that arena. So I don't. I put a hand on my chin. I take great care in making my decision, giving it thought and watching her squirm and loving that I am flirting with Katniss Everdeen.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "The offer won't stand forever."
I grin. "Fine. You win." She would always win. It just wasn't in me to watch her lose.
So I wait, watching her. She squares her shoulders. A flash of uncertainty and then she is holding up her chin again. I'm watching every movement, holding my breath. There is nothing in this world at the moment except for Katniss. She moves closer to me, I'm sure of it. She stands directly in front of me and I swear I can't hear a sound over my pulse. And then, in the next moment, she is kissing me.
It takes a second for the kissing part to sink in, because, I mean, it was nothing for years and then bam! Hello. Katniss is kissing me. And I am totally giving her nothing. Shock forgotten, I return the action with a little bit more enthusiasm than I intend and her head is dipped backwards.
I admit that the thrill running through me was threatening to crush my lungs and my stomach somersaulted enough to make me dizzy. When I do pull away it is only so that I can kiss her again, my head titled to one side and then the other. My hand is on her cheek and I'm afraid of moving too fast, but I really don't want this to end. I know this is a one time chance and I am determined to make the most of it.
Finally, I need a breath because I had forgotten how breathing works since she had began that impossibly slow pace toward me. I rest my forehead against hers, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
"Are we stopping?" She asks and I want to cry. Me, a boy, and I really just want to cry because I know, I swear, I can hear apprehension in that question.
"Do you want to?" It is no good to hide that I am looking for a 'no.'
I barely register her answer before I am kissing her again. Smiling like a crazy person. The smile just won't go away and it's embarrassing, but she is smiling, too, so I don't feel as silly. Suddenly, I am ravenous, but not for anything edible. She begins to part her lips with every movement and a buzzing in my head is shutting down any sort of commonsense I posses. When a tiny sound rises from her throat and she falls against me, I catch her. The fact that she pretty much swooned in my arms causes the roof to spin around me and my already fragile willpower is slipping fast. Now there isn't even air separating us. My hand is around her waist and I have to strain my fingers to keep them from moving…everywhere. Her back feels nice, I can just leave them where they are. I want to keep this at her speed, not rushing things, but my limbs put up a heck of an argument otherwise.
Now her fingers are in my hair and I need to attempt something or I'll be pushing her into the wall with my hands no longer willing to settle for the feeling of fabric. I decide for a more intimate kiss and not the more perverse thoughts strolling through my mind. And now my mouth is very very wet. Not that I want to complain. She is so close I can feel her heart beating with mine and this sort of kissing is much more exciting than before.
Things don't get much better for me and when she pulls away I am grateful, because I was losing it for a minute there. I smile at her because I really could not stop. I try several times, but it's no good. I guess had never been that happy. I didn't know what to do with myself. It was like, on the night before the end of everything, I was being handed my wildest dream.
"That was nice." She says, but she doesn't seem pleased with this response.
I think it's adorable. I take her hands. "More than nice."
She gives me a smile, "I'm glad you thought so."
"You say it like that was an obligation." It's getting easier not to smile. I don't expect her to be squealing with delight or bubbling with giddiness, that wasn't her, but I suppose I didn't expect a business tone. Like we had traded our goods and now our transaction was over.
"No. I just wanted to do something for you, after all you've done for me." She replies.
I nod, but I'm already starting to see this in Katniss vision. I'm defensive, because I am hoping that I am wrong. "Okay, but you also wanted to kiss me, right? I mean, I wasn't really acting alone on that one. You were kissing me back."
"Yes, I wanted to kiss you."
I take a step back and I want to shiver as the air rushes over the front of my shirt. "Because you like me?" she gets that look and I know I have to clarify. "I'm not expecting you to say you're in love with me, or anything. I don't think I'd believe you if you did." I say with a smirk, but it doesn't last long. "But you do, at least…care about me like that?"
She sighs. "I don't know. I don't know what you want me to say. We have one night. One more night before we spend what will probably be the rest of our lives fighting or being hunted. I just wanted…" And every word is a new cut on my hands. Actually, this hurts more. A fresh clean gash that cuts again and again, but this she won't be able to see or bandage. "I just wanted to offer what I thought was the only thing I could. And considering I might die tomorrow, I didn't want to end it without ever having my first kiss."
I think I might never smile again. "So, let's say Gale were here. Would you have kissed him instead?" She opens and closes her mouth, but I don't get an answer right away. She has to think about it.
"I don't know who I would have kissed. Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it kind of does." I snap. Because it most definitely matters. Right now, it is the only thing that matters. The only thing I can think about. I don't want to be second or the guy that was 'there'. I want to be chosen, but I suppose that is asking too much from her.
"Well, then I can't answer you, because I don't know who I would choose." She is growing angry, agitated with me.
I shake my head. "You know, I hate it sometimes."
"Hate what?" She snaps.
"I hate how I can't be truly angry with you and how I can't regret that you just kissed me. Whatever the reason." I can barely get the words out, so they're not as forceful as I would have liked. They're a bit quiet and feeble, actually.
"I told you the reason."
"You told me that you pretty much considered it a way to settle some debt you claim you owe me and that you didn't want to die without kissing someone. Someone. And I'm sorry, but as happy as it makes me that I could be that someone, it sort of kills me." I can't even look at her. "Goodnight, Katniss. I'll see you tomorrow."
I leave. I storm downstairs and slam my door and I know that this isn't really fair. I can't make her love me. It's not her fault that she doesn't. I guess it is just my luck that she is all I can think about. The only girl I could see. And I tried. I talked to other girls. Other girls talked to me. And not one of them was Katniss and that was their first, last, and only mistake. I take the pillow from the bed and throw it against the wall. It just makes a soft thud and slides to the floor, but I don't want to make a mess and break anything.
I fall onto the mattress. Not once had I felt comfortable on that bed and tonight is no exception. I throw a hand over my face and I want to laugh. She had kissed me for all the wrong reasons. But that didn't matter because she had kissed me. I knew that I would have done it again if I could have a do-over. I would make the same decision every time because one kiss for the wrong reasons from Katniss was better than no kiss at all.
I suppose I slept because someone is knocking on my door and it feels like seconds after I lay down. I let the shower wash away my depression. I can't afford to be sentimental anymore. Because I don't care what she did or why, nothing had changed with my plans. And my plan was to have a winner for District 12. Katniss was going to make it if I had to kill everyone myself. I just hope she doesn't ruin it.
She probably will. She'll try and say that I have no right to protect her, that I should be worrying about myself. She won't understand that I can't let anything happen to her. That I love her. Uh, and even I think I sound sappy. I suppose Gale would have taken the situation and done something manly. He probably wouldn't have had a problem smiling too much. And thinking of Gale makes me want to puke so I stop.
I meet Portia in the hallway and I know what I have to do. I have talked it over with Haymitch and I have a basic plan. We are descending in the elevator. I have to keep myself focused. No matter what, I was not going to let fear make my decisions. Fear was the tool of the Gamemakers. That is how they got what they wanted and that was the last thing I would give them. Let's see how they like a tribute who protects instead of destroys. Bet they'll be really pissed at me and the thought makes me smile. We are in the car, driving to my funeral. Because I have already made up my mind about who will win these Games. And it's not me.
The End