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Peeta
Something's different.
It's nearly October, and it's getting colder.
It's not the weather that's different.
It's Katniss.
I don't know what's wrong, but she's stopped talking for a while. We haven't talked much since that night.
That night. It sounds like something much dirtier than it is. But it's not bad. It's not dirty.
I think I may like her. I think I may have feelings for her.
It's all very confusing, all bundled up inside of me. I want to say something, maybe hint something. But she's Gale's and he's hers. But that's where I'm even more confused.
Something's wrong between her and Gale. And today isn't the best day for them. Because I know that she knows something.
She didn't go to school today. I asked Mrs. Everdeen, and she said Katniss had just been extremely weak this morning. I snuck past her room and heard her crying.
The sound broke my heart.
I want to go in there. I want to know what's wrong. I want to help.
And so, three hours later, I find myself standing outside of Katniss's door, my back as tense as a coil of wire, the stifling sobs coming from the other side of the stained wood obstacle shattering my every bone.
I raise one hand. I lower it. I raise it again and attempt to knock. It's feeble, and the sobs on the other side immediately are hushed. When I don't knock again, they slowly come back. I punch myself inwardly, try to mutter all of the courage I have in me, and I knock again. Hard.
The sobs disappear. There's a patter of feet, a great sniffle right on the other side, and the door's cracked open an inch. A steely gray eye peers out at me, and my insides wither before I remember why I'm here.
"Katniss," I begin, reaching up to touch the frame of the door. She shudders on the other side and pulls it closed a little.
"What do you want?" She doesn't really ask it like it's a question. She demands to be left alone. Her one eye flashes dangerously. My hand flutters down to my side.
"I—er…" I trail off. Her one eye loses its daggers for a moment before the energy is sparked back up. Courage shoots through me. Her lips appear, if only half of them, and half of her tanned, freckled nose is in sight, too. She's lost most of her anger, though now she's just impatient. "I…"
"You want to know what happened?" She's dangerously quiet. I grab onto the doorframe to keep my balance as she swings the door open suddenly. And she's an inch away. Maybe even less. Her warm breath fans across my face, though I can hear each ragged one. Her eyes are already brimming with tears. "You want to know?" she whispers, and I feel like saying no, though my head nods yes. Katniss leans forward, her steely gray eyes finding their anger again.
"What?" I whisper, my heart speeding up to a gallop. It's a wonder that she can't hear it from how close she stands to me. Katniss's expression darkens and then the warmth of her is gone. She's backed away.
"Am I not good enough?" She's back in the doorway. I feel a tug in my gut. Gale. "He kissed her." Something shatters inside of me, and something does in Katniss, too. She's crying now. "He kissed her." Though I know the answer, I ask anyways.
"Who? Who did he kiss?" I mutter. Peeta kissed Katniss. The thought is there for a moment and gone in a flash. Katniss's eyes lift to mine, and I feel like crying myself. I can't see anything except for rash, unfeigned hurt. Doubt. Self-hatred.
"Madge. Gale and Madge." She's begun to close the door, unable to hold back her sobs. They come out as she freezes in mid-slam, racking her body, making her once-mighty frame incredibly small. She's shrinking before my very eyes. "I didn't know he loved her!" She's so small I want to hold her. I want to hold her. I can't stand it any longer.
I bend down to crouch next to her, and the next thing I know, I'm holding her. Her sobs fade to a shudder, a cough, a hiccup as I rock her in my arms.
"I'm sorry," I whisper into the top of her head. She doesn't say anything. Her gray eyes are trained on the floor.
"I suspected it," she whispers, her voice a little stuffy. I can feel wetness on my arm as one of her tears splashes onto it. "They didn't talk to me after that day I took you to our spot." She shudders and I hold her tighter. She smells like she always has. Smoke and flowers and freedom. Right as I'm opening my mouth to reassure her some more, she turns around.
"Let's go," she mutters. I whip my head down to look at her, my eyebrows raising.
"What?" I start, but Katniss shakes her head.
"Let's run away. Hell, let's go anywhere. I hate everyone and everything right now except for you, Peeta." Her desperation morphs into a bitter laugh. "Funny how I started off hating you a little over a month ago and now I'm begging you to run away with me. I don't even know you." The last bit stings, though I keep holding on.
"Of course you know me," I push, though I'm met with a fierce glance from Katniss.
"You don't even know my favorite color," she laughs, and snot spews from her nose. That makes me laugh and her blush as she covers her face.
"Orange," I tell her between chuckles, and she removes her hand.
"Green." Her sobs have left completely now as she peers up at me, gathered in my arms. Her white dress is a nice compliment to her hair, though I notice that the purple ends are beginning to fade. The long garment pools around her feet and across my lap as we sit on the ground, her enveloped in my arms, peering up at me.
"Music?" I ask, and she smiles through some stray tears.
"Rolling Stones. Arctic Monkeys. Panic at the Disco. Alternative things." Her gaze wanders off past me. "You?"
"I don't have time for music," I tell her, and she turns back to me questioningly. "I'm too busy rescuing damsels in distress." She reaches up, and for a moment it looks like she's going to hold my face. My heart speeds up immediately, but then she brings it down, slapping my arm. "Ow!"
"I'm not a damsel in distress," she says stubbornly, and I laugh. Her nose crinkles when she smiles. It's silent as we stare at each other, our smiles fading away gradually. I subconsciously feel myself drawing her up in my arms, my head tilting to the side and then…
She's sprung out of my arms, backing away towards her bed. My heart jumps and I want to yell at her.
"What's wrong?" I ask her, but she just shakes her head.
"Nothing," she replies. "You were holding me for too long." What? She blushes instantly and then shake her head. "Sorry, I meant that I got a little awkward all of a sudden." She clears her throat, staring at the floor. Is she… Shy?
All of my emotions flood from my body as she meets my eyes again, her gaze steeling something inside of me. And I know what it is.
It's want. And it's clear as day.
She's beautiful. She's close. She's fierce. She's stubborn.
And I want her to be mine.
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