Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dreams
"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget."
― Arundhati Roy
Despite the initial gut instinct I have that something's off about his behavior, I ask nothing more about it. It's late and it's more than possible that he's telling the truth about only being exhausted. I feel drowsy myself, having only received about an hour or so of rest throughout the entire day. I couldn't seem to fall asleep again after the nightmare.
It's also possible that since I'm hazy from the pain medicine that I'm simply reading way too much into things. It's not worth dwelling on, at least not tonight. Besides, I'm really just happy to finally have him back.
Peeta yawns and stretches his arms before turning to me with heavy eyes. He places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and leans forward. His lips linger a mere inch from mine as he tells me, "I worried about you the entire day. There wasn't a minute that I didn't think about how you were doing... whether you'd left―"
I press a finger to his lips, silencing him.
Rather than admitting I'd felt the same way about him, I opt to show him instead. I close the space between us, bringing my mouth to his. At first he's taken aback and seems to debate whether to return the kiss due to my injuries—or for that matter, where to rest his hand. He eventually weaves his fingers into the hair at the base of my neck, though, and pulls me closer to deepen our kiss. I encircle his waist and slip my hands beneath the hem of his shirt, pressing my palms against the warmth of his lower back.
I don't know if it's because of the leftover guilt and terror that's still invading my mind or the result of the painkiller causing me to be less inhibited, but I want him as near to me as possible. With as much pain as I'm still in and as anxious as I've been all day, I need to feel the comforting assurance that only Peeta can give me.
Too soon, however, he pulls away from me with a slight shake of his head and a sleepy smile.
"You seem a little better than last night, at least. The swelling's gone down in your face. Did you take the other painkiller I left you?" He stands up as I nod in reply.
Without warning, he takes off his t-shirt and tosses it into a corner of the room. I immediately look away, my heart racing at seeing his bare upper body. It seems a little ridiculous to be so awkward about looking at him, though, considering he's seen and touched me quite a few times already. But it's my first time seeing any part of him nude, and I didn't expect it to happen so suddenly and nonchalantly. After a moment of debate, my curiosity wins out and my gaze drifts back to him as he walks over to his dresser.
I've already grown accustomed to some of the details of his body from our lunchtime excursions; every time, my hands wind up under his shirt—like his do with mine—tracing the curves and crevices along his torso, chest, and back. He is my boyfriend, I remind myself, and I shouldn't feel guilty or weird for admiring his stout, firm back or being transfixed by the way his muscles shift and jerk beneath the surface of his skin as he opens a drawer and pulls out a clean t-shirt.
He turns around and tosses it to me, startling me from my gaze and making me jump. I avert my eyes again and take a deep breath without thinking, which immediately causes an excruciating jolt to course through my chest. I wince as the shirt lands next to me on the bed. I focus on it for a moment in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.
"Figured you might want something clean to sleep in too."
I nod and will myself to glance back at him, doing my best to keep my face passive. He seems to be totally oblivious of how awkward I feel with him standing there, unnervingly casual with his bare chest in full view.
"Thank you," I mumble quietly, my eyes slowly drifting down from his face. "The shirt you gave me last night is still clean, though."
"I know, but I have plenty of shirts and I don't want you to think you have to wear the same thing the whole time you're here," he shrugs. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I was going to buy you both something to wear while you're staying here, you know, for during the day, but I didn't know your sizes. I didn't want to guess and get something that didn't fit you. I figured I'd ask you first, then go out and do that in the morning. And if you need anything else don't hesitate to ask. I did pick up some other things I thought you guys might need, like toothbrushes and—"
I nod again, feeling lightheaded—though I'm certain it has nothing at all to do with the medicine or the pain this time. Peeta continues to talk and even though I'm hearing him, I'm not really listening. I'm too distracted by his chest. It's just as toned and muscled as his back, and I can't help but wonder how that could be. I know he doesn't do any sort of sports, nor does he lift weights.
I also take notice of the curly dark blond hair scattered lightly across his chest, blushing deeply as I follow the trail of it that leads further down his stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his pants. My eyes rests there for a moment and my heart races faster as I remember how just yesterday evening I'd actually touched him there—that I'd been daring enough to feel him through the fabric of his pants. And now, upon seeing his upper body, I can't help wondering what the lower half would look like.
Peeta snaps his fingers and I blink in surprise, realizing I'd completely zoned out. I look up at his face again, and I'm immediately mortified at the knowing smirk on his face.
"What?" I ask and look away from him again.
"Were you just… checking me out?" he inquires in a teasing, playful tone. My mouth drops open and my eyes dart back to his face. He raises his brows for a reply, though from his amused expression, I'm aware I've been caught and he already knows the answer.
"No!" I answer defiantly, even though we both know the contrary. He snorts disbelievingly, so I relent with a roll of my eyes and admit, "Maybe. So? You're the one walking around half naked. What do you expect?"
He laughs, "No need to get all defensive or embarrassed about it, Katniss. I'm… flattered and a little relieved. I mean, you are my girlfriend. It's kind of nice to know the attraction's mutual."
I can't help but frown at the questioning, hopeful tone of his voice… as if he'd been wondering or skeptical as to whether or not I'd found him physically appealing before now. I thought that much was rather obvious without needing to be said. Otherwise, why would I kiss or touch him so intimately? Is it possible that he thinks I'm only doing it out of obligation?
I know he has some reservations about himself due to his leg, but surely he doesn't think that matters at all to me when it comes to how I feel about him and, least of all, in finding him attractive? Because it doesn't; not even a little bit.
He shrugs and turns back to the drawer to retrieve a shirt for himself, and I bite my lip, debating what to say—or if I should even say anything at all.
"Well, it is," I blurt, my face burning. He turns to me with a curious expression, and I fix my gaze on the floor and shrug. "I think you're very attractive. In fact, it's a little intimidating and I wonder all the time why you're dating me."
I know the medicine is a huge factor when it comes to admitting these things to him, because I'd probably never tell him so forwardly otherwise. But it doesn't make any of it less true. Ever since we started dating, I can't help noticing all the females who hang on his every word, acting and speaking flirtatiously with him at school and at the bakery. He seems completely oblivious to their attention, though. Or maybe he thinks they're only being friendly. Perhaps he doesn't care. I really don't think he knows how charming and sexy he is.
Honestly, I'm a little relieved because of it.
"Funny thing," he smiles at me before slipping the shirt over his head. I find myself a bit disappointed at the loss, but I listen as he continues, "I feel the same exact way about you."
I'm about to tell him how silly that is since he's the only person who would ever date me and I'm completely average looking—if that, but at the same moment, Prim comes bursting out of the bathroom. She stops in front of me and begins to twirl in her new pink nightgown, which has puffy sleeves and is covered in little white hearts. She stops all of a sudden, giggling and grinning widely at me before staring down at it in awe.
"I take it you like it then?" Peeta asks her with a smile. Prim nods enthusiastically and practically skips over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist to show her appreciation. He chuckles and tilts his head at me in a way that's equally happy and sad—happy that she's so thrilled, and sad, no doubt, because she's so amazed to receive something as simple as a nightgown. I have to admit that it kind of breaks my heart in a way, too. I guess I can see what Peeta meant about how thankful and disbelieving she gets at the show of any slightest kindness.
"I love it, Peeta!" she gushes. "It's so pretty! Thank you!" She beams up at him, then pulls back once more to twirl in her ankle-length gown. I meet Peeta's eyes, sending him a smile of gratitude for making her so happy, and he gives me a
small acknowledging nod before shrugging as if it's no big deal at all.
After everything settles down once more and we're all ready for bed, Peeta pretty much falls asleep as soon as he lays his head down on the pillow. Prim follows shortly after, having always been able to fall asleep easily, and I also suspect that the excitement over the nightgown had drained whatever remaining energy she had left.
As for me, I lie awake on my back and stare at the ceiling once more—as much as I am exhausted, I'm afraid to fall asleep. I'm scared of whatever harrowing images my mind will concoct.
Finally, though, my eyes are too heavy to keep open and I find myself drifting.
"Leave her alone..." I hear Peeta murmur from beside me. I quickly open my eyes again, both thankful and annoyed at the distraction from sleep, and turn my head towards him. I frown upon seeing that his eyes are still closed, though his face is contorted with worry and anguish. I jump as he kicks suddenly with his good leg and violently jerks his head with a grunt. "Katniss! I… I need… please, I…"
I realize he's having night terrors again and that this particular one is apparently about me.
With a grimace from the shooting pain in my chest as I sit up, I turn to him once more, placing a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of his bad dream. He doesn't even acknowledge it. He simply kicks again and moans more incoherent, anxious words. I glance over at Prim, who seems to be in a deep sleep and totally unaware of what's happening.
However, I know if his night terror gets any more intense, it'll be a completely different story.
I find his hands beneath the blanket and, although he tries to yank them away, I weave our fingers together, gripping him as strongly as I can so he doesn't flail and hurt me any worse than I already am. He wouldn't mean to, but it'd be impossible for him to control anything he does when he's in this state, and last time I ended up being pushed to the floor.
Putting as much pressure and strength into keeping his hands down as possible, I bring a leg over his waist and settle on top of the lower part of his abdomen, making it impossible for him to kick me. All of a sudden, he starts to struggle against me, bringing his hands, which are still within mine, up from beneath the cover to push me away. I regain control of his hands and press down as hard as I can, stilling them on either side of his head.
"Get… away…" he demands through gritted teeth, moving his head back and forth vigorously. And then, much to my mortification, his lower body starts to jerk upwards in an attempt to buck me off, and I have no other choice but to place all my weight against him. I can feel through the thin material of his sleep shorts that he's at least partially aroused, which I know is probably more of a natural biological reaction than any sort of a sexual one.
Without any more delay, I lean over and place my lips firmly to his in an attempt to bring him back to me as I had before. Almost instantly, I feel his body relax and stop protesting as his mouth starts to move against mine. I release my grip on him and bring my hands to caress the sides of his face. Realizing I'd been acting mostly on an adrenaline rush that's starting to dissipate, my body begins to feel heavy once more and the exertion from my actions causes my ribs to ache as if they've been cracked all over again.
I stay where I am, however, as his hands slowly move to my hips, then further down until his palms cup my backside. I gasp against his mouth and lean back an inch or two, seeing his eyes are now completely open.
"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but um… why are on top of me, attacking me with kisses in the middle of the night?" Peeta whispers with a sleepy, confused smile, as if nothing had even happened. I close my eyes in slight frustration upon realizing that of course he probably doesn't remember anything. He told me before that he's never aware when he has night terrors.
So essentially he's just waking up with me straddling him, holding him down by force, and kissing him.
"You were having a night terror and I was trying to wake you up," I explain in a rush. "It obviously worked."
He shrugs and replies sheepishly, "In more ways than one. You uh… might want to…"
I look at him in confusion for a moment, but he only raises his brows meaningfully and nods down to where I'm sitting on him. My eyes widen as I realize what he means, suddenly taking notice of the hardening lump beneath me. Without a word, I quickly remove myself from his body and lay back down beside him. I stare up at the ceiling, my face burning.
I feel Peeta shift towards me, but I'm too embarrassed to look at him. He finds my hand under the cover and gives it a squeeze before scooting closer and kissing my cheek. Resting his chin lightly upon my shoulder, he whispers near my ear, "Thank you for waking me. I'm really sorry you had to, though. I was hoping it wouldn't happen while you guys were here."
I sigh and turn my face towards his; we're so close I could easily lean forward and kiss him on the nose if I wanted to. I reply with a stern, "Don't apologize for something you can't control. Just… think of good things and try to get some peaceful sleep, okay?" I turn away quickly, unable to look into his eyes anymore.
He nuzzles against my neck and mumbles, "Good night again, Katniss. I love you." The vibration from his voice makes my whole body shiver, and the sincere but sleepy tone of his words causes butterflies to awaken in my stomach.
"G'night, Peeta."
Inhaling the delicious scent of cookies and cakes that wafts from his skin, I imagine myself inside the bakery—my happy place—as I close my eyes. Soon we both fall into a comfortable sleep with Peeta cuddled up against me, his head resting on my shoulder, and our fingers entwined tightly beneath the blanket.
I'm standing in the bakery backroom and it's snowing; not outside, but inside.
Huge snowflakes land all around, piling and drifting quickly all around me on the countertops, shelves, and floors. I reach out to catch a few of the flakes in my hand, but my palms remain dry. For some reason, none of it will touch me or come near me at all. It's as if there's an invisible shield surrounding me.
Despite my icy surroundings, I feel unbelievably warm and content. I catch my reflection in a nearby window and see that it's not an invisible shield surrounding my body, but flames; in fact, upon closer inspection, they're permeating from my skin. It doesn't hurt or consume me at all, though. The flames seem to burn more radiantly the more I look at them, just like the last rays of the sun before it sets in the evening sky.
I look past my reflection, noticing there's a tornado outside that's destroying everything in its path. It terrifies me, but for some reason I feel safe where I am. I know I'm protected and that it won't hurt me here.
I turn around to see Peeta smile at me and place a pan full of freshly decorated cupcakes down on the counter. I make my way over and see that they're butterfly cupcakes. I pick one up and am pleasantly surprised when all the butterflies come to life and start fluttering around us—flapping their wings of purple, blue, pink, orange, every color imaginable. Breathtaking and magnificent, they fly around the room, leaving glittering trails of color behind them that land upon the snow. Soon, the stark white room is painted vividly to life.
"Can you make the snow go away?" I ask sadly, noticing the flakes are coming down even heavier to cover up the beautiful remnants of the butterflies' color.
"No, but you can," he answers, opening my hands. Dazzling, sparkling, colorful flames dance within the center of my palms. He brings them to his cheeks and rests them there. Smiling and closing his eyes, he continues to explain, "Snow can never coexist with fire. One will always bring the end of the other."
Peeta opens his eyes again, and I'm mesmerized by the brilliant blue of them—they seem to glow with life. It's as if they can see right through me. I feel naked when he looks at me. Not in a vulnerable way, but as if I can show him all of me and never be afraid of being judged or ridiculed. As I think this, I glance down at myself and notice that instead of his eyes only making me feel naked, I am naked.
I don't feel uncomfortable or ugly, though, but the exact opposite. I feel relaxed and… beautiful. Especially when I look up at Peeta again to see him gazing back at me with wonder. I wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him as I lay my head against his chest, and it's only then that I realize it's bare. Pulling back slightly, I notice that he's naked as well.
But still, it doesn't seem weird at all. In fact, it seems surprisingly normal.
Peeta makes no comment on our state of undress; he simply smiles as he dips his finger into the snow on the countertop and brings it to my lips. Without even pausing to think, my tongue darts out to lick it off.
My eyes widen as I realize it's blackberry crème. The snow has completely stopped falling and every inch that has settled upon the bakery's surface has now transformed into my favorite desert topping.
"You have the power to change anything you want," Peeta whispers into my ear. "Anything at all. You just have to want to change it."
I nod in understanding, feeling the fire upon my skin move inward, igniting every inch of me. I feel alive and powerful; passionate and daring. I scoop a handful of the crème and smear it onto Peeta's body, giggling with glee as I do so. He laughs, too, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he takes a handful and spreads it onto my neck and breasts.
After a moment, we fall silent again as we look at each other. There's no need for words; our eyes say everything.
I then begin to lick the crème off his neck and chest, swirling my tongue along his skin, savoring the taste of my two favorite things being blended together so deliciously. He places his hands upon my hips, lifting me up and sitting me onto the counter as he positions himself between my legs.
He dips his head and envelops my breast with his mouth, licking the crème off with an aching slowness. He alternates between the two of them, my hands nestled within his hair, pulling him closer to me as he continues tasting and kissing his way up my neck.
Finally our mouths meet, and with a sigh and a grunt against each other's lips, our bodies connect in more ways than one.
He holds onto my thighs and I wrap my legs around his waist to bring him even closer. Slowly at first, he pushes into me and back out, recurrent and confidently, he picks up speed as our mouths and arms embrace and seek refuge within the other.
It's as if our bodies know that our souls are two parts of a whole, and that merging together is the only way to ever find completion.
Whether the words come from his mouth, inside my head, from a feeling, or merely a disembodied echo, with each thrust they're there:
I love you. I love you. I love you.
As the friction between us grows, so does something inside me. I'm not sure what it is, whether it's physical or emotional, but it's pleasurable and overwhelming. Pressure is building in the center of my body, the room is spinning, and suddenly, as if not being able to contain the fire inside me any longer, the flames erupt out of every pore of my body in a fantastic burst of color.
With a small cry, my eyes dart open and I bolt upright. I try to ignore the excruciating pain in my ribs for a moment, and instead focus on what's contrasting it below. There's an intense, blissful throbbing between my legs, unlike anything I've ever felt before.
I'm trembling and sweaty all over, and besides the throbbing between my legs, I also feel extremely wet as well. I bring both of my hands to my face, trying to regain control of my body as I tighten my legs together. While I'm not exactly sure what happened, I do know it definitely had something to do with Peeta and sex. I had no idea my body was capable of making me feel so euphoric, and as strange and self-conscious as it makes me, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to feel it again.
It's no doubt a side-effect of the painkiller causing me to have extremely vivid dreams and impulse desires, but still….
What the hell was that?
I tense up when I feel a strong, gentle hand start to rub my back. The bed shifts behind me and I hold my breath as Peeta sits up next to me.
"Hey, you okay?" he whispers in concern, leaving a small kiss on my shoulder. "Bad dream?" I take in a deep, shaky breath and shrug a shoulder.
"I'm fine," I whisper.
"She had a really bad dream when you were gone during the day, too," I hear Prim chime in from behind me. "I had to wake her up because she was crying and thrashing about."
"You wanna talk about it?" Peeta asks, moving his arm around me so I can rest my head on his shoulder.
I can't tell him about the dream. Besides, what would I even say? Hey, Peeta. We just had sex in a dream and it was really amazing? Somehow I think that'd be more than a little awkward. Besides, Prim is listening to us quite intently.
"I… um. I don't even remember…." I answer weakly. I realize I'm wringing my hands, so I try to still them and act casual. However, I can't prevent them from trembling along with the rest of my body, and when I shift my eyes to Peeta, I see that he's frowning. I can tell from the way he's looking at me that he doesn't really believe me.
"Well, if you happen to remember and you want to talk about, I'm here to listen," he tells me. I give a dismissive nod and quickly remove the covers from myself. Suddenly fearing the worst, I quickly make my way to the edge of the bed in order to get to the bathroom.
However, I'm forced to stop for a moment due to the stabbing pain in my ribs. I rest a hand beneath my breast, wincing as I bite my lip to keep any whimpers from escaping. The medicine has nearly worn off and even the simple act of breathing has become a chore.
"I'll get you an ice pack for that in second. In the meantime…." Peeta opens up a drawer next to his bed and pulls out an orange medicine bottle. He retrieves another painkiller and hands it to me, which I don't hesitate to take. He runs a hand through my hair, gently tucking it behind my ear as I take a drink and swallow the pill. I purposefully avoid looking at him, though, because every time I do, flashes of the dream fill my head. "It's a little after eight anyway, we should be getting up."
"It's Saturday, though," Prim states incredulously, scrunching her face up in confusion at Peeta as she rubs her eye with the back of her hand. "It's still really early."
Peeta gives a small chuckle, looking mildly surprised at Prim's rebuttal.
"You can sleep in as long as you want, Prim. As for me, I like to watch Saturday morning cartoons. I was kind of hoping you'd join me, but if you'd rather—"
"I'll watch with you!" she replies before he can finish, perking up in an instant. Peeta grabs the remote from the bedside dresser and turns on the TV, flipping through channels before he lands on a station that has cartoons. I try to brace myself for the walk to the bathroom, but before I can, Prim scoots over to me, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses my cheek.
"I love you, sis," she mumbles sympathetically into my hair. "I hope you feel better soon."
"Me too," I whisper, patting her arm in a feeble attempt to return her affection. "I'll be okay."
Peeta reaches for his prosthetic and maneuvers himself to the edge of the bed to put it on. He avoids looking in our direction, but before I can say anything to put him at ease, Prim leaves my side for his.
"Do you need any help, Peeta?"
He looks at her with a sense of bewilderment, as if not expecting her to be so comfortable with seeing his missing leg, let alone offering to assist him with it.
"Um… I think I can get it," he answers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thanks for the offer, though."
"Can I watch how you put it on, then?" Prim asks, her eyes lighting up hopefully. He looks taken aback, but amused at her curiosity. She must have caught his slight confusion because she quickly explains, "I want to be a nurse when I grow up. So I figure I should learn these things if I can, right?"
"Right…" He nods in agreement before turning his body towards her more so she can see what he's doing. "And for what it's worth, I think you'll be an excellent nurse."
Prim grins up at him, and I can tell that his encouragement has made her even more confident. Likewise, her enthusiasm and interest has put Peeta at ease about his leg. As I watch them interact, I can't help imagining how gentle and supportive he'll be as a father someday. He just seems to have a natural way with children, always going out of his way to talk to them and make them feel important when they come into the bakery with their parents. Like his dad, he usually gives them a small treat for free—which never fails to make them happy. Children rarely leave the bakery without a smile on their face.
And then, as if I've been drenched with ice-water, I snap out of it. I realize I don't want to think about Peeta being a happy, nurturing father with a perfect family… because if I'm being realistic, it'll happen with someone else. I definitely can't see it being with me. Not that I wouldn't like to stay with him for as long as he'll keep me around, because I do enjoy every moment we're together.
But I know eventually he's going to tire of all this. He's going to realize I'm not the kind of girl he wants to be with, that we're too different, that this is too much hassle, and he'll set his eyes on someone better suited for him - someone beautiful and normal.
Plus, I don't see myself ever becoming a mother.
I clear my throat and slowly stand up. I notice Peeta glancing at me from the corner of my eye, but I'm unable to look at him. It feels way too revealing to do so - like he might be able to hear my thoughts or read my mind if I keep eye-contact with him long enough. Luckily, the pain seems to be subsiding slightly and I can breathe somewhat easier again.
Remembering I'm sweaty all over and praying I didn't start my period, I ask quietly, "Do you mind if I take a bath?"
"Of course not," Peeta replies as he finishes fastening his prosthetic. He wastes no time in making his way over to me, placing a hand on my back for support as he continues, "Let me get you something clean to wear." I'm about to tell him I don't need anything, but then I realize it might be good to have a backup set of clothing just in case.
Once I've started running a bath, I rid myself of Peeta's clothes. It feels strange to be standing stark naked in an unfamiliar place, and even though I know that no one can see me, I still feel self-conscious about it. I take a quick peek at myself in the mirror and grimace at how horrible I look. With a heavy sigh, I check between my legs with two fingers, hoping that I don't see red. I'm more than relieved to find that the sticky wetness I feel all the way to my thighs is completely clear. This has happened quite often to me since puberty, and even more since I've started dating Peeta, but never to this extent. I know it's a natural reaction that my body has when it's stimulated, and that's a big reason why I don't want Peeta to touch me that intimately. I'm not sure I want him to know that he has that sort of effect on me.
Without wasting any more time, I step into the tub and sit down in the water. It feels amazing as my body relaxes. I lay my head back, closing my eyes as the water gets deeper and deeper around me. It's been so long since I've had a hot bath that I'd almost forgotten how nice it feels. The last time I had one, I was Prim's age - and I was too preoccupied playing with my dolls that I didn't take the time to appreciate it then. I never thought there'd be a time when a hot bath would be a rarity.
I run my hands along my body beneath the water, cleaning myself and enjoying the warmth against my skin. Even my ribs feel almost normal as the tension in my muscles melt away. Then again, the painkiller has probably completely kicked in by now. All I know is that it's been a while since I've felt this comfortable and I don't feel like ever getting out.
I think of the dream again—or more about what the dream had caused. I never knew my body was capable of feeling like that, or that a dream could have such an overwhelming effect. I suddenly remember the time Peeta had asked me if I'd ever touched myself. I was confused at the time because I didn't really see the point of it, but now I'm curious and eager to feel again what I'd felt earlier. Then I wonder if that was what he'd experienced on our date. I know our anatomy is different, but perhaps it was something similar. After all, he said things build up and explode and that it felt really good. And that's what exactly happened to me.
I part my knees slightly and bring a hand between my legs; specifically to the spot that throbs when Peeta kisses and touches me. I don't really know what I'm doing at all, but it doesn't seem to matter - it feels amazing. I sink into my thoughts, imagining that it's Peeta's lips and hands gently squeezing my breast and touching me down below, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. I bite my lip, trying not to make any noise or move my hips as I increase speed and pressure.
It's such a strange, but wonderful feeling—ticklish, but not. I'm caught somewhere between wanting to clamp my trembling legs together or open them further. In anticipation of the bliss I'd felt before, I hold my breath as my heart beats faster and something builds inside my stomach.
I hear Prim laugh loudly from the next room and I practically jump out of my skin, splashing loudly and pulling my hand back, snapping my legs shut as if I'd been caught. I sit up and cover my face with my hands. Now isn't the appropriate time or place to be doing this. I ignore the small spasms below as I wash my hair and body in a hurry. I've lost track of time and the water is getting colder, so I know I've been in here for a while. I'm sure Prim and Peeta are wondering what's taking me so long.
Once I'm clothed, and my hair and teeth are brushed, I exit the bathroom to find them sitting beside each other on the bed. They both have a sketchbook in their lap, and it appears that Peeta is teaching Prim how to draw.
"Hey," he says with a half-smile, looking up as soon he notices me.
"Hey," I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. "What are you guys doing?"
"He's teaching me how to draw!" Prim says excitedly. She sticks her tongue out and wrinkles her nose. "I'm pretty rotten at it, though."
Peeta shakes his head and winks at me, his blue eyes bright with amusement. I look quickly at Prim again to avoid his gaze.
"You are not," Peeta counters.
"Am too! My dog looked like a bear."
"Then it's not a dog at all, is it? It's a bear. Sometimes your brain envisions something, but the hand has a mind of its own," he explains brightly. "A lot of art happens by accident, and it doesn't always turn out the way you want it to. But it's still great the way it is."
Prim sighs and raises an eyebrow skeptically before focusing back on her drawing.
"If you say so. I still think I'm bad at this, though."
"Well, I don't," he says before looking at me again. "You want to join us?"
I shake my head and sit down on the bed next to Prim. I see Peeta staring at me from the corner of my eye, and I don't even have to look directly at him to know he's confused as to why I didn't choose to sit by him. I cross my arms over my chest again and keep my focus on the TV.
"I should probably get you that ice pack now," he says quietly, a slight questioning tone in his voice as he places his sketchbook on the side table and stretches his arms. "And also head to the store to pick some things up. I'm sure you both are hungry and I'd rather not make my mom suspicious by bringing a bunch of food down here. What do you guys like to eat?"
"Pizza!" Prim answers immediately.
"For breakfast, Prim," I say, rolling my eyes. Needless to say she has a new favorite food since Peeta took us to the pizza buffet, not that she ever had a choice to even have a favorite before. I raise my eyebrows at Peeta and frown, "And you're not paying for all of this. It's my fault we're here, so you don't need to treat us like we're special guests or something."
"It's not your fault that you're here, and yes I am paying," Peeta states as he picks his keys up off of his desk and pockets them. He turns back to me before I can object and asks, "Also, what are your sizes? I'm going to pick you both something up to wear—"
"Peeta, there's no need for that. We're not staying here that long," I answer, averting my eyes as he knits his brows and shakes his head at me.
"We'll talk about that when I get back," he says. "Are you going to tell me your sizes or do I need to guess?"
I shrug and pretend to focus on the TV, "Guess."
Honestly, it's been so long since I've done any shopping for clothes that I don't actually know our sizes. I usually just wear whatever will cover my body, and it's always a couple sizes too big—but I'm comfortable with that.
"So I'm getting you something tight and skimpy then?" he teases. I give him a disapproving look, but it only makes him break out into a wide grin.
"That'd be wonderful, Peeta," I reply with an air of indifference, a tight-lipped smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "And I'm sure your new girlfriend would absolutely love them."
He snorts, "Point taken. I'll do my best then. I'm going to get you that ice pack real quick and then head out."
I don't say anything as he goes upstairs. I want to object because I'm honestly not all that comfortable with him doing these things for me, but I know he'd insist on doing them anyway. I'm not used to anyone going out of their way to take care of me, and I'm not sure I ever will be. It's kind of like when he gives me compliments; I'd heard them so infrequently prior to being with him, I don't really know what to say when I get them, and my first thought is to assume he's lying to me.
Prim insists on applying the ice pack to me as I hold the pillow over my face. It's just as painful as the first time, but she's surprisingly confident in what she's doing. I can't help but take a little pride in how ambitious she is about becoming a nurse. Like Peeta, I truly believe she'll be wonderful at it someday.
As the pain in my ribs numbs to a dull, cold ache, I find myself feeling heartbroken. The steps to becoming a nurse would mean she'd have to go to college. With the life we live, that's not even an idea that can be entertained. Maybe things will change between now and when that time comes, but as it is… I can only see things becoming bleaker. I don't have the heart to tell her that, though. It's good that she has a dream to keep her strong. And who knows? Life might just surprise us both.
When Peeta comes back a couple hours later, his arms are loaded with bags, as well as a pizza box which Prim instantly perks up at seeing.
I shake my head a little at Peeta's weakness at wanting to please everyone, but I can't help but smile at it too. He's grinning ear to ear, and obviously very excited as he sits the pizza and bags down onto the bed.
"Lunch is served, my lovely ladies," he says, sliding the pizza box over to us. Prim opens and zealously grabs a slice, vocalizing her thanks as she takes a huge bite. Peeta reaches into a bag and pulls out a white teddy bear. It has a nursing uniform on with a big red heart on the shirt, and it even has a hat and a hands it to Prim without a word, and her mouth drops open in surprise. He shrugs with a twinkle in his eye and explains, "Thought it was fitting for a future nurse who draws beautiful bears."
Prim hugs it to her chest, appearing to be on the verge of tears. Her lip is quivering and I can tell she wants to say something, but she's afraid it'll come out all shaky. Like me, she's not used to receiving gifts, and especially not new toys. Gale occasionally gives her some of Posy's old things, but by then they're usually pretty worn and broken, especially considering they're usually from thrift shops when he gets them for his sister in the first place. But Prim never complains and she's always happy to have anything at all.
But this? To receive a brand new toy that has never been played with and is only meant for her? It's a feeling of wonder and gratitude that's so hard to explain, and yet… it's incredibly overwhelming. I know, because I feel the same way every time Peeta does the same for me.
He continues to pull things from the bag and hands a couple outfits to Prim, all of them bright and flowery, just like her. All brand new, too. Prim doesn't say anything, just stares at it all in disbelief, holding up the shirts he'd bought her in a daze. All of a sudden she makes her way over and, without a word, hugs him tightly. Peeta and I smile at each other as he hugs her back. As much as I disapprove of him buying all of this stuff for us, seeing Prim so happy she's speechless makes me push those thoughts to the back of my mind and simply accept his generosity for what it is.
"Thank you," she finally says in a small voice as she pulls away. She picks up her new clothes and stands up from the bed. "Can I try them on now?"
Peeta nods encouragingly, gesturing towards the bathroom, and she practically skips there with her new teddy bear clutched tightly beneath one arm and the clothes in the other. As the door shuts behind her,
I give a small laugh and raise my eyebrows at him.
"If you ever have kids, they're going to be spoiled rotten, Peeta."
"If you ever have kids, I assure you they will be," he winks, smiling meaningfully at me. I feel my face heat up at the insinuation, and as I'm about to say something to counter him, he leans down and captures my lips with his.
After all the thoughts I've had today of him kissing and touching me, it feels like heaven to finally experience the real thing. I relax instantly and wrap my arms around his neck to bring him closer. Our kiss starts out slow, dry, and tender, but as I lay back and pull him with me, things take a quick turn and our kisses become hurried, wet, and passionate. He keeps his body a safe distance from my ribs, but I wrap my legs around his waist to bring his lower half to mine.
His lips leave mine to leave open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and neck, and it takes all my restraint not to arch into him and direct his head down to my breasts. I know with my injuries, he won't go near them in fear of hurting me, though—and honestly, that's probably for the best—but there's an insatiable ache for them to be touched.
He kisses his way over my collarbone, back up my neck and to my mouth once more before running his tongue along my bottom lip. The ache quickly moves down between my legs. Without thinking, I roll my hips into his, causing our lower bodies to meet through the fabric of our clothing. It's oddly satisfying, so I do it again, and in turn, he pushes back into me. I moan into his kiss and bring my hands to his hips to bring him even closer against me. Suddenly, he sits up and rubs his eyes.
"Sorry… we can't. Not with the way you are and with Prim…" He opens his eyes again, looking apologetic and miserable.
"I know. I'm sorry," I mumble, sitting up again as I wipe at my face and run a hand through my hair. "It's… the pain medicine. It's making me…" I shrug, not really wanting to explain any further.
He stands up from the bed and leans down to kiss my forehead.
"God, please don't ever apologize for that, Katniss," he says, giving a small chuckle as stands back up. With a wink, he opens another bag and pauses. "I didn't say I didn't like it. I really enjoyed it. Like… really, really, really enjoyed it. But it's kind of a mood killer when your little sister might walk in on us at any moment and I have to avoid your chest."
I nod in reply, and in an attempt to distract my body from what it's feeling, I ask, "So what's in the bag?"
He pulls out some clothes for me. Adark green sweater, a brown top with flared sleeves, and a purple t-shirt with a white dandelion being blown in the wind. They're all larges, too, so I won't feel uncomfortable wearing them. He also bought me a couple pairs of jeans that are made of stretchable material and a pair of black jogging pants.
I feel just as overwhelmed as Prim did. I don't know what to say. I just look down at them, awestruck and moved by his thoughtfulness. I feel so undeserving of his kindness, and yet… I know he'd never accept me not accepting it.
"The purple one might be a bit girly for your tastes, but—"
I shake my head and smile up at him. "I love it, Peeta. It's a dandelion from my dandy lion."
He nods without a word, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead again before opening another bag.
He hands me a couple packages, one containing 3 sports-bras and the other is a multi-pack of underwear. I raise an eyebrow at him, my face heating up. Imagining Peeta actually going into the women's section of a store and picking these sorts of things up for me is both embarrassing and amusing. I don't comment on it, though, because from the blush on his cheeks I can tell that he's a bit nervous of how I might react. I smile and tell him thanks again, which visibly relaxes him.
"Oh, I forgot something in my car," he tells me with a big grin, his eyes lighting up. "I'll be right back, okay?" "Okay…" I reply suspiciously.
When he comes back a few minutes later, I shake my head in disbelief at what he has in his hand.
"That's not…" I start, but my voice breaks off. I clear my throat and try to keep my emotions at bay. "That isn't for me, is it?"
"Who else would it be for?" Peeta asks jovially, handing me a brand new fishing pole. "I also have a tackle box with hooks and bobbers and things. I didn't really know what to get, but the salesman was pretty helpful. Probably a little too helpful. I'm sure I bought stuff you won't even use, but that's all right. I just want to make you happy."
I reluctantly take the pole from him, my hands shaking and my mouth dry as I look down at it, not fully believing my eyes. I finally look back at him and find my voice once more, though it comes out a unevenly, "You don't have to buy me things to make me happy. I'm happy just being with you."
We spend the rest of the day and evening watching cartoons and movies and playing board games.
When Peeta mentioned his favorite Disney movie being The Lion King, Prim revealed that she'd never watched it or any other Disney movies in her life. He seemed surprised by this and instantly made it his duty and mission to introduce her to all of them eventually. It'd been so long since I'd seen any, myself, that I felt nostalgia similar to when he reintroduced me to The Wizard of Oz.
When the last movie is over and it's almost time for us to go to bed, Prim asks excitedly if she can take another bubble bath. Of course, Peeta says yes and runs her one. When she's out of the room for a few minutes, Peeta turns to me and looks a little too serious for my liking. I can tell he wants to say something, but he doesn't know how to word it.
I lean up against the headboard and finally ask him what's wrong as I pat the spot beside me.
He hesitantly sits down next to me, sucking in a deep breath as he closes his eyes. He's still reluctant about saying anything, and I suddenly realize that I don't want to hear it. From the way he's acting, whatever it is, I know it'll be bad and it'll probably ruin the night.
"The first night you were here...Prim… she told me a few things about how you live," Peeta finally says, avoiding my eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and releases a long breath. I feel my heart start to beat faster, wondering what exactly she'd told him. "Katniss, I knew you were being abused and that was bad enough, but I had no idea…" he trails off, shaking his head.
"No idea about what?"
He opens his eyes and turns to me, and I can see that the joy we'd felt only moments ago has completely disappeared.
"No running water or indoor plumbing, taking baths in lakes, no electricity, not visiting a doctor when you need it, your bedridden mother, having to fish and hunt so you don't starve, chopping wood to—"
"Yeah? Well, Prim needs to learn to keep her mouth shut!" I snap.
"No, Prim's smart for asking for help," Peeta argues. "It wouldn't do you harm to learn from her, actually." He's silent for a moment before whispering, "So this has been going on for years?"
I purse my lips and stare down at my lap, feeling frustrated and insulted, but I nod anyway. What's the point of lying? Prim already told him everything.
"I knew you had a rough home life, but I didn't know all the details or to what extent," Peeta continues. "Katniss, we need to talk about doing something about this."
"Not tonight."
"Yes, tonight," he insists. "It's gone on for long enough."
I look over at him with narrowed eyes. "It doesn't concern you. I'm not talking about it. Feel free to run your mouth all you want, but I'm not saying anything tonight."
"I wish you'd stop being so guarded about all this and just… talk to me. I want to help you—god, you have no idea how much! But you won't—"
"I never wanted you to help me!" I don't like Peeta making me feel guilty about all of this, and I'm tired of explaining things and no one understanding at all. "It was Prim who insisted that I call you. I never asked for your pity or your presents, okay?"
"I never said you asked for anything," Peeta says. "I'm asking you to let me help."
"There's nothing you or anyone can do! I can stay or try to get away, but either way I'm probably going to die. I'm choosing the scenario that doesn't get others killed, too," I answer as calmly as I can and cross my arms. "And I'm done talking about this."
"Well, I'm not," he retorts. "I'm also not letting you go back—"
"Like hell you're not!" I snort derisively, cutting him off as my annoyance starts to turn to anger. "What are you going to do? Lock me in here, hold me captive in your bedroom and not let me go to work or school? Yeah, that's going to work. Stop being an asshole, Peeta. I don't take kindly to threats."
"So I'm an asshole for trying to keep you safe? You know, I wish you'd take the attitude you have against getting help and redirect it at the people actually hurting you," he returns, his tone both pained and indignant. "And I've actually thought of a way to help you, but you won't even talk about it long enough for me to explain—"
"You're forcing me to talk about it now, aren't you?" I say coolly. "If you have something to say, say it."
He sighs and rubs his eyes before asking quietly, "Look, can we stop arguing and discuss this calmly? I want to help you because you mean the world to me and if something happened to you…" He sighs, and I can see him looking rather intensely at me from the corner of my eye. I refuse to look at him, though. I just shrug and say nothing, trying to keep my face as passive as possible.
"What if I drove a couple towns over, into a different county, used a payphone with no security cameras or people around, and called some higher authorities?" I sigh loudly and roll my eyes. "I'm talking about the FBI and the Attorney General, people that don't take reports of police corruption lightly. And maybe I could hire a private investigator to speed things along? I was thinking, what if you got rid of the man behind the curtain… the man running this town? If you get rid of Coin, Snow loses his backup, right?"
Listening to the tone of his words, rather than what he's saying, he seems to be seeking approval for something that he's already done instead of my opinion on a future possible plan.
"This is hypothetical, right?" I whisper, closing my eyes and trying to get the bad gut feeling I have to go away. "Let's say it is hypothetical. What do you think?"
"No. Let's not say it is. It better be hypothetical!" I open my eyes again, glaring at him in warning. "Because I know you wouldn't do something that reckless. You wouldn't go behind my back and betray me like that. You'd talk to me first."
"I didn't betray you, Katniss! And I didn't go behind your back. I've tried to talk to you time and time again about this, but you never want to talk about it. And even if you ever did, I know you'd be too scared to ever do anything about it!"
"So what, you felt the need to do it anyway? Regardless of how I feel about it?"
Peeta goes silent for a moment, as if trying to calm back down. He takes in another deep breath as he turns to me with a determined glint in his eye and his jaw muscles tensed.
"Yes, I did," he replies. "Because it needs to end! They shouldn't be able to get away with what they do! It doesn't only affect you and Prim, it affects the whole town! Do you know how many lives he's probably ruined? There could be other children out there right now in the same position you are—"
He continues to rant and give me his reasons, but I've stopped listening. It feels like my world has come crashing down around me. I never thought he'd do this to me, that he'd go behind my back and put all of our lives at risk like this.
But he has. And I'm not sure how to process it, let alone handle it. I feel like a cartoon character that just got an anvil dropped on their head out of nowhere.
"You actually… you actually did it, then?" I interrupt heatedly as soon as I regain the ability to speak. "Do you know what you've done? Do you have any idea? You've essentially dug graves for me and Prim! Possibly even for yourself and your dad, too!"
"What I did was try to prevent that exact thing from happening!"
"Did you even think about what'll happen if Coin is actually arrested?" I retort as every worst-case scenario pops into my head at once. "Snow's already paranoid. He'll feel cornered. He'll blame it on me. He'll kill us for this!"
"I was careful, there's no way this will come back to you—"
"It doesn't matter! You don't know how he is, Peeta! And what happens if he gets arrested along with Coin? The authorities will come out to talk to my mom and… I have no doubt we'll be taken away."
"Would that be so bad?" he shoots back, frowning deeply. "Having a shot at a normal life?"
"Prim and I would be sent to foster homes and more than likely be separated! So yes, it would be that bad. Not to mention, the foster homes could be just as abusive," I answer in utter disbelief of how easily he can disregard my fears. Tears start to well up in my eyes and I don't even bother to wipe them away. I want him to know how scared and angry and betrayed he's made me feel. "I'd also be out of your life if that happened. Then again, that's probably what you want, right? To get rid of the poor, damaged girl while still playing the hero?"
"You know that's not true at all. I love—" "Don't even say it!"
"—you, and if I didn't care, I'd just let this continue on, ignoring the hell you're going through. I can't do that! It was hard enough watching silently from a distance all these years, wondering but hesitant to ask or do anything. Now that I've really gotten to know you… I can't just ignore everything and hope for the best. And, besides, even if you get taken into foster care, you'll be turning eighteen in May. That's only a few months away—"
"Eight months isn't a few, Peeta!"
"—then you're free to leave at will. And eight months is nothing compared to having to endure years more of him abusing you and having to live the way you do. When you get to leave, you can come stay with me. I'll try as hard as I can to help you get custody of Prim. So would my dad."
"So your dad knows about this, too?" I ask indignantly, feeling cornered and even angrier at the thought that this will probably cost me my job.
"Not yet," he replies, speaking way too calmly for my liking. "I think you should tell him, though. He's going to wonder about the bruises."
"How about I tell him about your psycho mom?" I snap, wanting him to feel just as hurt as I do. "In fact, maybe I should turn her into social services or call the FBI!"
"This isn't about me! I'm not the one with a black eye and cracked ribs at the moment," Peeta replies. "Feel free to turn her in, be my guest, but she'd get out of it. Besides, I turn eighteen in a little over a month, so it'd be kind of pointless. You need to think of Prim right now. She has her whole life ahead of her, with big hopes and dreams… and they aren't going to happen if you let this continue. She's a kid right now, but think of how this could affect her when she becomes an adult."
"What, so you think I don't? You really think that I don't worry about that all the time? Look, I know it's hard for you to comprehend, being a little rich boy who has never had to go without, but Prim is all I have and I am all she has. She's my only reason for even living—"
"You've got to know how unhealthy that is, though!" he counters, exasperation dripping from every syllable. "Loving your sister is one thing, but thinking your existence is only important to keep her alive is…"
I stand up and head towards the storm door, feeling the need to be as far away from him as possible. I stop, though, when I remember that Prim is still taking a bath and I can't leave without her. Peeta makes his way over and stands in front of me. He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can't help the tears spilling down my cheeks.
He lifts my chin and says quietly, "You're every bit as important as she is, Katniss, and you have so much to live for. I know you have dreams, too—"
"Not really." Because I'm already living a nightmare.
"And that right there is why this needs to end."
"You're right," I reply, giving a small cynical laugh, shrugging his hand off of my shoulder. "This does need to end. I should have never let it start."
He starts to bring his arms around me in an attempt to give me a hug, but I push him away, which makes my ribs start to throb in excruciating pain.
"Don't touch me!" I shout, holding a hand to my chest. Surely he didn't think I'd be so weak that a hug would somehow make it all better? It actually just makes me angrier. "Just stop pretending like you give a damn about me, okay?
Obviously you don't care at all about my opinion in any of this so why the hell should I say anything at all?" I walk away from him and sit on the edge of the bed. We're both silent for a moment before I finally whisper, "I don't want to be involved in any of this. I don't want to even know about it."
"I won't say anything more about it to you, then," he offers as he sits down beside me.
"No, you don't get it," I reply, keeping my eyes on the floor. I hurt everywhere in my body, but it hurts more to look at him. My voice comes out weakly and I never thought I'd be the one having to say the words, "If you're involved in this, I can't be involved with you."
"You're not…" Peeta starts to ask, and I don't have to look at him to know that he's crushed. I feel like throwing up or running away, or simply not existing. I never thought I'd intentionally break Peeta Mellark's heart, but I never knew he'd shatter mine, either. "You're not breaking up with me? Over trying to help you?"
"You're not helping, Peeta, you're digging my grave." I close my eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming as I add, "And of course I'm breaking up with you. I don't even know if I can ever forgive you."
"Just calm down for a bit and think this over, okay? We can talk this out. I'd love to actually discuss this in detail with you without you getting all defensive."
"There's nothing more to think or talk about. I'll never be able to trust you again after this."
"Why? It's not like I lied or kept it a secret. I told you; I didn't betray your trust." He tries to run a hand through my hair, but I smack it away. "I'm only doing this because I hate seeing you in pain and being so afraid all the time. I want to see you happy. I want to grow old with you, start a family with you someday. I love—"
"Well, none of that is ever going to happen," I cut him off coldly, and when I finally look at him it's as if seeing a stranger. "And right now I'm pretty sure I hate you."