I lock myself away for the next three days in my bedroom staring out the window and watch him. He finished planting the primroses on the second day, but I watch him when he leaves his house. I watch him take bread to Haymitch. I'm not sure how long he's been back, but he's doing a lot better than I was when I got here. He was always the better one out of the two of us. I also see him give bread to Greasy Sae when she comes by. Sae tries to encourage me to leave the room, tells me how good I was doing. I say nothing, but I am glad that she doesn't mention him.
On the fourth day I decide to get up again, feeling inspired that he's been doing just that.
I decide to visit Haymitch, the feeling of guilt that I haven't visited at all and he's only been here awhile and has gone to his house every day. I leave my house knowing that I won't run into him after having observe his every move these past few days.
I push through Haymitch's door knowing that knocking will be pointless. The smell of booze littering the air. He's passed out on the couch with a bottle in one hand and a knife in the other.
"Haymitch," I say while giving his shoulder a push. Nothing.
Already knowing my only option, I grab a glass and fill it with water in the kitchen and dump it on his head.
Haymitch stands up dropping the bottle and waving his other hand with the knife around. He falls over the coffee table and lands with an, "umph!"
"What the hell sweetheart?" He says into the carpet trying to push himself up. "Sorry, that's the only way I know how to wake you," I mutter. I help him to his feet, but he just slumps back down on the couch, retrieving his bottle.
"The boy seems to know how to wake me without dumping water on me," he grumbles. I roll my eyes. "Now to what do I owe this pleasure? You remembered that I'm only two houses away?" He says while taking in my appearance. "You look like shit." He says. "You've looked better yourself," I bite back. He holds his hands up in defense. "No need to get feisty, just an observation." He says.
"You know what, this was a bad idea," I say and start making my way to the door. I'm not sure what I expected by coming here. "Hey now hold on just a second sweetheart. I know you came here for a reason. I'm assuming you've seen Peeta." The sound of his name makes me stop in my tracks. I haven't heard or thought his name ever since I've been back. Too scared to face reality when it comes to him.
"How do you know that?" I ask him over my shoulder. Accepting that this was the reason I came here. Haymitch sighs before he replies. "You're pretty easy to read, sweetheart. Why else would you come over?" I contemplate on answering him. Haymitch and I care for each other, but it's more at a distance. Neither one of us wears our hearts on our sleeves. Not like Prim…not like Peeta.
I turn to face him. He takes this as acknowledgment to his observation. "He's doing really well. I think you should go see him. He's been asking about you, y'know."
"Why did he come back?" I blurt out. I didn't mean to ask in this way, but the question has burning in my head ever since I saw him. "What?" Haymitch says. He looks taken aback. Looking at me like I've grown two heads.
"Why did he come back?" I repeat with more force. "I heard you. Just thought you would know the answer to that one already," he says looking at me with disbelief. "That boy would follow you to the end of the earth." He says like it's the most obvious thing ever.
"But why? He could have gone anywhere he wanted. Been happy anywhere he wanted. Why would he want to come back here with me?" I say. Haymitch takes a swig from his bottle and stands up. He puts the bottle down and grabs me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye. "Listen sweetheart, I know the Capitol messed with his head and I know the war took a toll on both of you. But that boys heart never changed. Even if it seemed like it did," he pauses as he thinks about what he wants to say next. "You've both been through some shit. I think it's time you both heal and go on with your lives. You deserve it. Both of you."
I lay in bed that night, playing Haymitch's words over and over again while trying to make sense of them.
I know there's no way that Peeta still has feelings for me. He's seen me at my absolute worst.
Even if he does have feelings for me, I'm far from the girl he fell in love with. I'm merely a shell of that girl. My only purpose was to keep Prim safe, and I failed horribly.
I take into account that I wanted to keep Peeta safe as well. Another thing that I failed at since he was a victim to the Capitol's hijacking.
I sigh and roll over to face the window. Seeing how Peeta's kitchen lights are on. I imagine him baking. Making all of the bread that he delivers in the morning. I wonder what he does in the afternoon at his house. Maybe he paints. I try to imagine what he would be painting these days. I hope it's something nice and not filled with terror. Perhaps a sunset with vibrant shades of orange that he loves.
This happy thought lulls me to sleep.
I wake up to someone screaming. I then realize that I'm the one who is screaming.
My nightmare suddenly comes back to me. We were back in the second arena and when Peeta hit the force field, he didn't wake up from it no matter how much I screamed and cried for him to do so. The sound of the cannon sealing his death.
Still gasping for air, I look over to his house and see that everything is the same as when I fell asleep. Only this time his living room window is open and he's standing there. Looking at my window longingly. He must have heard me screaming.
It takes me back to when he once said, "My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here."
In this moment I understand what that feels like. My heart rate started evening out once I see that he is here and alive.
I watch Peeta close the window and go back into his house. The lights to his kitchen switched off. The light to his room turning on a minute or so after. He draws the curtains back and opens his window, giving me a view of his bedroom. I feel like such a stalker. I should turn around and try to go back to sleep.
I do the exact opposite. I get up from my bed and get closer to the window, making sure that I am not visible. His back is turned towards the window as he takes off his shirt. I instantly blush and look down at my feet. What am I doing?
When I look back up, he is already dressed into a t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants. I watch him slip into his bathroom and he shuts the door. I let out a breath I didn't know that I was holding. Watching him do normal things brings me an odd comfort.
He comes back out and turns off the light. I sigh, about to turn back and go to bed when his bedside lamp turns on. He sits on the edge of his bed facing the window and rolls up one leg of his pants. The side where his prosthetic is. He takes it off and a look of relief appears on his face. It must bother him more than he lets on.
It is another thing I can add to my list of things that I feel guilty about. I wish there was more I could have done to save his leg. The light of the lamp turning off snaps me out of my thoughts and his bedroom is dark once again.
I return to my bed and decide that I will try to talk to him in the morning.
A/N: Just kind of trying out writing. I have been playing with this idea in my head for a while. I know that this has been done several times, but I am hoping this will help lead me to other stories that I have kind of started. Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated!