This oneshot is for hmweasley as my November gift for the Gift Giving Extravaganza of 2020. These are the prompts I used: Katniss/Peeta and dealing with the aftermath of war. I'm so sorry that it's a day late. I've been super busy and just couldn't find the time. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: grief, PTSD/flashbacks

Word count: 2067

I wake up from yet another nightmare with a guttural scream, one that makes me feel as though someone has ripped my throat open.

My heart races and I'm vaguely aware that I'm gasping for air. I rip my sheets away and stagger to the window, wrenching it open with shaking hands and letting the cold winter air slice through me, waking me up fully.

I sag against the wall, pressing my trembling hands to my eyelids, trying to suppress the tears. It won't help with anything. It won't bring any of them back.

It won't bring Prim back.

I choke back a sob. It's all your fault. My brain screams. You're the reason they're dead.

I think of all those lives cut too short. Rue. Cinna. Finnick. Prim. And hundreds and thousands more.

They all died because of me.

Even your own mother doesn't forgive you.

I understand why my mother has moved to District 4. She has become close with Annie and wants to help watch over her. That's what she told me before we said goodbye.

But I know that the real reason is that she cannot bear to live where she had lost so much.

If it were up to me, I wouldn't be back here either. But where else could I go? There's nowhere else that feels even remotely like home.

Greasy Sae is here. She officially lives next door but spends most of her time in my too-big house, making sure I don't give up on living.

Haymitch is here as well. He came back to District 12 to take care of me. He doesn't have anywhere else that feels like home either. But he hasn't done a very good job of taking care of me. He can hardly take care of himself.

And then there's Peeta. He returned last week, with primroses in his arms. I had woken up from a nightmare that day, and the very sight of him had caught me off-guard. When I saw him, I did what I do best. I ran away. Left my problems for another day.

That day hasn't come. Not yet.

Because how can I look at that boy and not see who he used to be? The boy with paint on his hands and words that could change a nation. Words that did change a nation. Now when I look at him, all I see is the broken boy they tortured in the Capitol.

The boy who tried to kill me.

Haymitch said to give him time. I know that if it were me, Peeta would be loving and caring and I would have recovered a long time ago. But I'm not Peeta. I can't do it. I can't make him better.

It's as though my thoughts have summoned him.

"Katniss? Is that you?"

What?

Peeta calls my name again and I place where the sound is coming from. I wrench the window open all the way and look down. Sure enough, I can barely make out the top of his head, his blond locks waving in the wind.

"What do you want?" My voice comes out scratched and raw. And much more angry-sounding than I meant. Oops.

"I thought I heard you awake. Are you okay?"

I scoff, not caring if he hears me. How could I ever be alright? But if he had the thought to ask, maybe he's slowly getting better.

The least I can do is try. "I've been better," I say out the window. "How about you?"

I catch his shoulders moving up and down as he shrugs. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd take a walk."

"Isn't it cold out?"

There's that shrug again. "It keeps me from thinking about other things."

Right. I'm so selfish that I always forget that others have suffered as well. Typical Katniss behavior.

How can anyone stand me?

A part of me twinges when I make out his slight shivering. I wait until he meets my eyes through the open window. "Want to come up?"

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. "Okay."

As I walk down the stairs to let him in, my mind races with thoughts.

Why did I do that? Well, I have to talk to him eventually. Might as well do it today.

He gives me a brief smile as he steps in. "Thanks."

"Anytime," I say, already regretting my offer. We stand awkwardly in the doorway. "Want a cup of tea?"

He's glancing around, his hands twisting together. It reminds me of Finnick and his rope. "Sure."

After we've settled on opposite couches with a cup of tea each, he asks, "Nightmare?"

I fidget, already uncomfortable. "Yeah. They're worse now."

He gives me a twisted smile. "Mine too."

What do I say to that? "I'm sorry."

His fingers tighten on the cup and for a moment, his eyes glaze over. Then he's back, chewing at his lip. "Don't be. It isn't your fault." The words are strained.

Sure, I think. But I don't say anything in fear of triggering some sort of outburst.

It's silent, the only sound being the tea sloshing around in our cups. I debate refilling our mugs just so we'll have something to do, when Peeta says, "We can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

He gives an agitated sigh. "Ignoring each other like this. We'll have to talk eventually."

I can feel my temper rising. "What if I don't want to talk?"

His eyes bore into mine and I can see them flash, for just a minute, with anger. "I'm trying, Katniss. I'm trying as hard as I can. The least you can do is try as well."

I cross my arms and look away. "Fine."

It's silent again and I can feel Peeta watching me. Just when I can't bear it anymore, he says in a calmer voice, " So, what's it like here? I've only just gotten back."

I fight to keep my voice as even as his. "You didn't miss much. I live here. Greasy Sae lives next-door. Haymitch lives across the road. Greasy Sae makes me food. Haymitch drinks."

"And you?" I glance at him and find him looking into my eyes again. "And what do you do?"

I barely survive. I'm trying to find a reason to live.

Instead, I shrug. "Why did you come back?"

Now, it's his turn to shrug. "There's nothing for me in 13. Or in the Capitol. This is the only place that feels somewhat like home."

That's exactly how I feel.

"Besides," he adds. "I had to see you eventually."

My eyes shift downwards. I don't know how to feel about that.

"Katniss," he says softly. I have to look at him. His eyes are soft. "Can we try being friends? It would be good for us."

He's right. He's always right. But I'm not ready to face it. I never am.

"But I'm despicable," I burst out. Peeta winces. "I'm the reason so many people died! I'm the reason we all suffered so much." I take a deep breath. "I'm the reason you were tortured in the Capitol!"

I don't know what I expected him to do when I said that. If I thought he would comfort me, deny my words, or do anything the old Peeta would do, I thought wrong. Instead, Peeta's eyes go wide, his pupils dilating, and he drops his mug.

The ceramic shatters and the small bits of tea left inside seep into the carpeted floor. Peeta's hands have jumped up to his head like he wants to crush his skull. He's gasping and his eyes are squeezed shut.

I'm frozen. How could I be so dumb? So careless? So emotionless? Shouldn't I know not to mention that?

"Peeta," I say as loudly as I dare. "I—"

"Stop!" he shouts. I can see his fingers shaking. "Be quiet!"

I shut my open mouth immediately, watching helplessly as Peeta battles the demons in his mind.

He's gasping as though he's in physical pain. He groans and sinks onto his knees, gritting his teeth.

I know that what I'm seeing is only a miniature fraction of the battle going on in his brain. I don't dare move. Who knows what Peeta could do now?

In a way, although I'm scared half to death, watching Peeta struggling opens my mind to the thoughts I've pushed away because of my selfishness.

He's trying. He really is. He suffered more than I did and he's trying so hard to be okay. Guilt overwhelms me when I realize that Peeta would have never let me go through something like this.

He's too kind for that. Too loving.

He's everything that I'm not.

But he still loves me.

I think of Gale, who's in District 2. We were never meant to be together. We are too similar. Gale's fire could never beat Peeta's calm warmth.

And as I watch Peeta writhing on the floor, I finally realize who I want to live with for the rest of my life.

"Katniss," he rasps out. His hands are bleeding where his fingernails have dug into them.

I don't know what to do.

"Katniss," he repeats. I can't tell if he's calling for me out of love or anger. I decide to stay put.

He grips the floor, his knuckles turning white. He whispers to himself, sounding almost feverish. "It's not real. It's not real. Katniss loves you. She's good."

A part of the old Katniss rises up again. The one who was caring and hated to see her loved ones suffering. "Peeta," I say softly. "Peeta, look at me."

He presses his forehead to the carpet. "It's not real. It's not real."

"Look at me," I say, getting on my knees in front of him. I no longer care if he lashes out at me. I can't bear to see him in pain. "Peeta, look at me, please."

Peeta looks up at me, his eyes are half-crazed and bloodshot. "You love me?" The words are said quickly and harshly like he needs to know the truth. Maybe he does. "Real or not real?"

I freeze. I'm not ready to tell him.

"You loved me. We protected each other. You're my friend? Not my enemy?"

I feel a part of my heart shatter.

His voice gets louder and shakier like he's losing control again. "You love me?" he gasps. "You love me? Real or not real?"

My heart beats in my chest.

"Real," I finally whisper. I've known it this whole time. Even when I couldn't bear to see him. I love Peeta.

And I always will.

It's about time that he knew it.

"I love you, Peeta," I say, needing to hear the words out loud. "I love you."

I reach out a hand tentatively to touch his curls and he doesn't pull away. He's put me back together so many times, it's only right that I do the same for him. "I'll always love you, Peeta. No matter what, I promise."

He freezes for what seems like the longest time before sagging against me, finally beating the demons that he had been fighting. His head rests on my shoulder, his eyes half-closed. He looks exhausted beyond belief.

"You're okay, Peeta," I say softly, combing my fingers through his hair. "You're here with me."

He half-smiles. "Thank you."

I wonder when it came to this. When did I become the one comforting Peeta? But I find that I don't mind it. He's always helped me in the past and I know he'll help me in the future. He'll keep the nightmares away and I'll keep away his flashbacks. Or at least I'll try.

Because that's how it works. We try our best to put each other back together. And we'll learn to love the cracks that are left behind as well as the fully mended parts.

Because that's what love is.

It's about time I realized.

Peeta's hand finds mine. "I love you. Katniss." His voice is loving. Kind.

A soft smile comes to my lips. I finally found him. The boy with the bread. The one who brought the dandelions. The one who'll love me unconditionally. The one who I'll love with every fiber of my being.

The one who put me back together again after all these years of hardship.

The words come without hesitation this time. "I love you too, Peeta."