Welp. This took longer than expected. I apologize for the delay!
Before we get to the next chapter, here's a little playlist. I love it when stories have playlists to go along with the overall tone/theme of the story, so I hope you enjoy!
The Wolves (Act I & II) – Bon Iver
Desire – Ryan Adams
White Blank Page – Mumford & Sons
Sleep – The Dandy Warhols
Skinny Love – Bon Iver
Never Let Me Go – Florence + the Machine
Lump Sum – Bon Iver
Misguided Ghosts – Paramore
Jezebel – Iron & Wine
Wash. – Bon Iver
Only If For A Night – Florence + the Machine
Holocene – Bon Iver
Brighter – Paramore
My Lady's House – Iron & Wine
Your Protector – Fleet Foxes
Cosmic Love – Florence + the Machine
After the Storm – Mumford & Sons
Blood Bank – Bon Iver
No Light, No Light – Florence + the Machine
Michicant – Bon Iver
How can I help him?
She often asks herself this. Too often, she can never think of an answer. Helping Peeta is like walking through a field of landmines. She's never sure if he will willingly accept her assistance, or snap at her and shut down. It's beyond frustrating.
Bracing herself, she moves forward to where he's sprawled on the ground. Bear, a frisky, playful ball of energy, bounds over to him, licking his face in excitement. They had been outside pruning the primroses around the house and, as he had made to stand up, his artificial leg had buckled, sending him back down to the earth.
She places a hand on his shoulder. "Peeta? You okay?"
"I'm fine," he says sharply, pushing her hand off his shoulder. Knowing she'll only frustrate him further by arguing, she steps back as he struggles to his feet. He glances at her briefly before turning and heading into the house.
Sighing, she follows him inside. She knows it will be another long evening. Over the past few weeks, Peeta's mood has taken a turn for the worse. She often finds him sitting in his painting room, staring at the jumble of colors, which are mostly hues of red, and muttering softly to himself.
She tries to pinpoint exactly what might have triggered his dark mood, and thinks back to a night shortly after he had brought Bear home.
They sat on the living room floor, Peeta's back against the couch, Katniss sitting between his legs and leaning into his chest. In front of them, the little brown puppy greedily devoured the scraps of turkey left over from last night's dinner. Over the past week, his wound had scabbed over and his energy and appetite had appeared in full force. With his belly round and obviously full, he walked clumsily over to them, snuffling around Katniss' feet. Peeta stretched a hand out and the puppy waddled over to it.
"So what should we name him?" Peeta had asked, allowing the puppy to gnaw on his thumb.
"Oh, I don't care," she replied dismissively. Despite having spent the past week nursing the creature back to health, she was still brooding on the fact that Peeta had so easily convinced her to take in another mouth to feed.
"Come on, Katniss, quit pouting. He's just a little puppy." He lowered his mouth to breathe into her ear. "He's cute and he needs a name."
"How about Peeta?" She suggested, trying to sound irritated. She was still annoyed, but could feel it ebbing away. "'No, Peeta!' 'Bad Peeta!'" She glanced back at him. "It would be perfect."
He grinned, and she couldn't help but smile with him. "I think I would get confused as to who exactly you were talking to. How about Bear?"
She glanced down at the puppy, who was still occupied with mauling Peeta's thumb. "It fits him, I suppose." Peeta grinned and kissed her cheek.
In that moment, she couldn't help but to think of him as her Peeta again, the boy she knew before the Capitol had hijacked him.
For the next few hours, they worked on their book. She watched, fascinated, as Peeta brought Cinna's fiery dress to life on paper. Pain and longing mixed with love and healing.
They had gone to bed soon after, wrapped up in each other's arms. She awoke sometime later to a still dark room and a missing Peeta. Wandering downstairs, she found him in his painting room, sitting in front of a blank canvas.
"Peeta?" she called softly, not wanting to startle him. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Katniss." His curt reply was not what she expected and he had yet to look at her. She took a few small steps forward, intending to put her hands on his tense shoulders.
"I said I'm fine!" he snapped, still not looking at her. "Just…. just go to bed, Katniss." She left, feeling confused, and even though she didn't care to admit it, a little hurt.
After that night, incidents like his fall from today send him into bad moods quickly.
She tries everything she can think of to bring him back to himself during times like this. She's tried singing to him, approaching slowly until she can lay a hand on his back. She's brought Bear into the room, allowing the puppy to run around Peeta's chair in endless circles, begging for attention. During her last attempt, she stood directly in front of him and placed his hands on her breasts before bending to kiss him. He sometimes responds to her efforts, snapping out of his haze and smiling at her as he pulls her to him, sliding off the chair to play tug-of-war with Bear and his recently commandeered wool sock, allowing her to slip her tongue into his mouth before tugging her shirt off over her head. But these tactics only work occasionally, and the next day, he'll be back in his foul mood.
So now, after his fall, she's not surprised that he refused her help. As she steps into the house, she hears a door slam and she knows he's locked himself in his room full of blood and gore and paint.
She eats dinner alone that night, but leaves a plate of food out for him on the counter. After checking on Bear, who is fast asleep on his pile of blankets, she heads upstairs and changes into her pajamas. She feels wide awake as she climbs into bed, waiting for him to come back to her.
When she hears him walking up the stairs to their room, she rolls onto her back to watch him slip quietly into the room and change for bed. Despite her frustration with him, she can't help but allow herself the indulgence of watching him unbutton his shirt and slip it from his broad, scarred shoulders.
He gets into bed and turns onto his side to look at her. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm really sorry." His fingers brush the top of her shoulder and skim down her arm.
She's silent for a moment before rolling over to face him. Instead of replying, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. He's slow to respond, but eventually weaves his hand into her hair, holding her to him.
When they break apart, her eyes search his face. "What's wrong?" she asks softly. He rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. He doesn't speak for what seems like several minutes, and she's about to ask again when he speaks.
"Everything was going so well. I was….." He struggles to find the word. "…happy."
"And what's wrong with that?" She can't quite see the word happy fitting into her vocabulary yet, but Peeta deserves it.
"It felt wrong," he says. "It just felt wrong to be happy, after everything that's happened. Does that make any sense?"
It makes complete sense to her, but it sounds so wrong coming from him. He's warm, strong, and good. Why should he not have that happiness?
"Yeah, it makes sense," she replies. "Just…. not for you." She sighs and reaches to touch his face. In her mind, she sees his dandelion painting, bright and beautiful among the carnage of his other paintings; a true symbol of hope. She can feel blood rushing to her face. This feels like revealing too much, but this is something she wants him to know. This is something he needs to know. "I don't know if I'll ever truly be happy, but you're the one who makes me... makes me hope that maybe one day it's possible. I want you to be happy, Peeta. I want to help you be happy."
He turns to face her. "Katniss, you are the reason I feel happy." His hand covers hers. "I just lose myself in the past sometimes. In the arenas, in the Capitol, in Thirteen. It makes me feel guilty about letting myself feel happy. I'm sorry for taking it out on you." He smiles. "We're helping each other. It's what we do-"
It's not so much his words as it is his smile that causes her to cover his mouth with hers. This is her Peeta. Strong. Warm. She pours everything she has into the kiss.
Neither of them seems to be willing to be the first to let go, and the kiss becomes more heated. Peeta rolls them, pinning her to the bed as his knee settles between her legs.
She can feel her heart racing as his hands run down her sides and grasp the hem of her shirt. His hands shake slightly as he removes the shirt and tosses it to the floor. As their bare skin touches, heat pools low in her stomach.
His mouth descends onto her and she grasps the hair at the base of his neck. She can't stop the whimper that escapes her lips as his teeth graze over her breast.
Her hands fumble as she pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his chest and torso. As she runs her hands across his now familiar scars, she can't help but think how beautiful his imperfections are.
She feels his hands trail down to the waistband of her pajamas. They've gone this far before, but this time feels different. An unseen barrier is about to be shattered by their heated and nervous touches. He doesn't hesitate to pull her pajamas and panties down her legs, leaving her naked before him. She can feel his eyes on her as his hands graze over her scarred body. "Beautiful," he whispers. "So damn beautiful."
His shorts are the only barrier between them now and her hands rest on his hips. His hands join hers as she slides them off. Her legs open and he settles between them, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Katniss." His voice is low as he meets her eyes. "Are you sure you want this?"
She can't find her voice, so she nods and winds her arms around his neck. He kisses her slowly and she can feel his heart racing.
When he enters her, it hurts, though not as much as she expected. She keeps her eyes tightly shut as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.
It's not long before most of the pain is gone and is replaced by pleasure. Her hips rise to meet his and his name slips from her lips more than once.
His head is buried in her shoulder and she can feel his breath coming out in short gasps. His thrusts are faster, deeper and she can feel the pressure building inside her. He whispers something in her ear, but she can't understand what he's saying. She decides it doesn't matter when his hand moves to where they are joined.
Her head falls back as he pushes her over the edge and her nails rake down his back. She's still gasping for breath as he begins moves in and out of her quicker. It's not long before she feels his rhythm falter and hears him moan her name.
He collapses on top of her and she reaches up to push his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. When he raises his head to look at her, there's a smile on his face. He kisses her eyelids, nose, and lips softly.
When he pulls back, his blue eyes search her face.
"You love me. Real or not real?"
She should hesitate. She should deny what she knows is the truth, but she can't. She doesn't think twice.
She kisses his forehead before replying, "Real."
Whew, finally! Okay, the plan is to continue this story. I have the next few chapters lined out, but I'm not sure how quickly I can get around to writing them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll reply to all reviews! Thanks for reading!
