A/N: I liked writing the last part of this chapter. The next one might take a while because I haven't started on it yet. I'll try to make it worth the wait. Thanks for supporting this story!
Everybody seems to be just as happy with our engagement as we are. Even Gale. My mom is thrilled, and we thank her for helping us. Effie tells us she was expecting it, but she's just as happy. I make sure to stress that it won't be televised, it's going to be just us. We're tired of cameras. It's a great thing she agreed to that, but not without asking us if she can announce it to the Capitol, to satisfy their nosy selves.
My prep team shriek in excitement when we tell them over the phone.. Cressida's there too, with them, because they're working on a propo for the new government. They're happy for us, they say.
Annie promised to send us something as an advanced gift. Johanna, whom we haven't contacted much for the past year, told us she'd be happy to attend the wedding. When they asked for the date, we told them we're not sure yet.
We tell Haymitch last, given that he lives only three houses away from us. When we arrive, he's plunked face down on his kitchen table, a bottle in one of his hands and a knife in the other. Peeta stops me from dumping down a pitcher of water on him and tells me it is better not to. He takes the news… well, okay, I think. He was expecting it, too, especially now that we're together again. Before we leave, he hugs us both. At the last second, I ask him if he could walk me down the aisle. He says yes, and I think I saw tears in his eyes. It could be a trick of light though.
Not much has changed, except that when I'm just idling around, my attention is on the ring. Peeta catches me looking at it on more than one occasion, then says. "You look at the ring more than me now."
"It's still you," I say. "If you were a ring, this would be you."
He sits beside me on the couch, then kisses the side of my head. "I love you," he whispers.
I whisper the same words back to him.
One day, while we're on the floor of the living room, Peeta's painting Cinna, he stops suddenly then says, "Spring sounds good."
"Good… what?"
"It's a good time for our—"
"Oh, that." I think it over, deciding if it really is a great time for our wedding. "Yeah, it would be great."
"Spring starts soon."
"Do you really think it's a great time or do you just want to do it soon?"
"A bit of both," he admits sheepishly.
"If you want spring, then we should start preparing."
We call Effie, since it's her thing—parties and events like this—we get a bit confused when she says she'll be over soon. We only get what she meant when she shows up on our doorstep the morning after, with only a small pink handbag for her things.
"What are you doing here?" Peeta and I ask in chorus, still in our rather wrinkled nightclothes. I immediately try to straighten the shirt Peeta lent me to use. I was too lazy to get a shirt of my own.
"Well, I need to look at you! And it's been so long, my dears. Didn't you at least miss me?"
We hug her, sincerely, because we did. I'm thankful she doesn't make a comment on our attire. "Now, let's have a look around. Where are you planning to have it? In here? Wait, is it going to be just the simple toasting or the Capitol type of wedding? Oh, please let it be like ours!"
We tell her both, since we feel like we owe her for being such a great escort and friend to us both. The toasting will be private, though, and by private, we mean just the two of us and some close friends and family. She raises her eyebrows at that, "You're included, Effie. Don't worry."
"Thank goodness, I thought I wasn't! Okay, the backyard's pretty spacious. Nice lawn, too. What do you think?"
I have no idea what she's talking about and it must show on my face because she says, "The location, dear."
"Oh, yes. Yes, whatever you deem fine."
"Are you letting me plan this?"
"Yep, that's what you wanted, right?" Peeta says.
She almost cries, right there in front of us, but stops herself because she's wearing make-up. It's actually lighter now compared to when she was drawing out our names from gigantic glass bowls of paper. Maybe the time she spent in Thirteen had some lasting effect on her.
"What about the dress, honey? Do you have any ideas?"
And that is how it started. We both agreed on not getting another designer for the dress as a tribute to Cinna. I'll be wearing a white gown instead of just a decent dress, though the gown would be less extravagant than what I wore for the interviews before the Quell. Peeta would wear one of his old but not worn tuxedos. We pick a white one instead of black. The food would be the specialties from Twelve which mainly involve game cooked in different ways. Peeta would be making our cake, as weird as that sounds. Effie would take care of the other things. We trust her not to overwork herself, though I slightly doubt it. This is the Effie Trinket we're talking about, the patroness of all event organizers.
She spends the night with us, but leaves the next morning. She visits Haymitch first before she goes off to the train station. We offered to accompany her but she insisted on going alone. She says she wants us to have some time to ourselves. She promises to send our prep team here when it's time.
I've forgotten how tiring it is to have visitors. We were so used to living alone for so long. But we're happy.
He gets another flashback after a week. Clutching the kitchen counter, I hold him as he fights his episode off. He feels so tense, I can sense him straining to stay sane. "Shh, it's not real, Peeta. I'm here. I'm here with you. Where are you?" My voice cracks at I ask, the image of him in his cell haunting me.
"Come back, Peeta… I need you."
"Katniss…?"
"I'm here. I love you," I say softly against his back. He releases his grip on the counter, releasing the breath he was holding. He faces me, looking broken as he always does after an episode.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks.
"No, you didn't. You just held on to that until it passed." He looks relieved when I said that, but his forehead stay crinkled. He lifts his hand to brush my cheek with his thumb, then asks, his voice quivering, "You love me, real or not real?"
I stand on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips, struggling to find my voice. "Real."
After we sent a reply to the letters we received, we get a reply from Gale a week after. The content is a bit surprising, even for Gale's part. He told us he found a girl, a refugee from Seven whom he likes and seems to like him back. They've been spending time together since he found enough courage to talk to her. She's a medic, he says, and helps in assisting the soldiers treat the wounded if there are some. He says she's his calming personality and I guess that's really how it works. For it to work and to last, you have to be polar opposites on at least one matter. Peeta and me and Gale and the girl he found, our personalities are different.
The day after we send a reply to Gale, a package from Annie arrives with a short note. It's her promised advanced gift to us. At first, before opening, I thought it was a painting, which is something that would be less useful to us, especially for Peeta, than getting a blank canvas. Turns out it is a blank canvas for Peeta to paint on. A huge blank canvas. A few jars of paint is also included. Annie says in her note that we can fill the canvas up with memories, both old and new ones. I think it's a great idea, given that Peeta still has his episodes and I still get nightmares. Maybe when I can't sleep I can just look at the scenes we'll be putting there to calm me down, to remind me that things are okay.
We place it in our spare room because we haven't decided yet what to put. We walk in town again that day and visit the shops to buy a couple of things from them, it's the least that we could do to share whatever we have.
Effie calls us every now and then, making sure that we're still pushing through with our wedding. She jokes, on more than one occasion, that it's kind of silly how we're younger but have found the person we're happy to share our life with but she still hasn't found hers. We tell her that things take time, and if it's meant to happen it will happen.
After that one time, we almost played matchmaker, narrowing down the men who'll suit her. Haymitch comes over that afternoon and Peeta and I almost burst out laughing at his timing. He shoots us a funny look, then when we asked why he's here, he just said he ran out of liquor, which is pretty funny because he didn't take a single bottle with him when he left.
Days and nights spent with Peeta are so easy and relaxed. We're not even married yet, but I don't think I can love him more than I do now. I don't know, but every day, before I go to sleep, I tick off every reason why I love him. I fall asleep before I even finish. Being with him just feels so great, maybe not all the time. He can be pretty unloving during his episodes. More than once, he hurt me. Nothing worse than tight grips though. I end up with bruises for days after those incidents. But despite all that, even when he's closed off himself from me, I'm still sure I love him. It's weird, because when I got into fights with Gale, we can go on ignoring each other for a long time—so long that I start hating him for it. We need someone to act as a mediator between us for us to forgive each other. Usually it's Prim. But she isn't here anymore, she's with my dad now.
Love is supposed to bring out the best in you, they say. Just two or three years ago, I was totally opposed to that idea. I used to think love brought out the worst in people, my conclusion based on my mother. And that pain brought out the best, because we were in so much pain that I realized I had to work to keep my family alive. I was able to do that for years and I thought that was a good thing. It's only months ago that I realized how wrong I was. It isn't love that brings the worst out, it's pain. It's pain that brings it out—pain brought by love. I got them switched. When we were little, my mom and dad were the best parents I could have hoped for. It's only when we lost dad that I started wishing for another mother.
That, all of that, only led me to believe that he's for me. He brings out the best in me. Gale was right, I changed, but for the better. I forgave him so quickly, I forgave Peeta so quickly, because of Peeta. He taught me that if you love someone, don't let that person slip away from your grasp, because you're never going to be assured that he or she will be coming back around.
Because if you love someone, you don't give up on them, even when they do.
A month passes, each day closer to the day. Each day, too, I get more and more nervous. Not that I'm doubting my love for Peeta, I love him. I'm very sure of that. I'm just scared things might go wrong. On that last night before our wedding, I can feel my heart pounding against my chest. Peeta's holding me against his chest, his breath coming in regular intervals. He must be asleep already, but I can't. Trying to rack my brain of ways on how I'm going to extract myself from him, I shift a little, my dead arm bugging me.
"Still awake?" he asks, surprising me.
"I thought you were asleep already," I turn around to face him, burying my face in his shirt. I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent—a mix of flour and smoke from the baking he did during the day, and him. "Why are you awake, though?" I ask.
"I'm nervous… scared, even."
"Scared? Of what?"
"This is going to sound ridiculous but I'm scared that you'll… run away. I mean, there's still that possibility. You might wake up tomorrow and realize that you don't love me like you thought you did."
I sigh, he's never going to be not harsh on himself. I kiss the spot below his neck before answering, "I love you, Peeta. Nothing's going to change that, not you, not anyone, not the world, not the universe, nor the past or the future. I love you, and that's that."
"This is unfair, you're getting good with words but I'm still useless at hunting," he says.
"You make great company. Actually, so great that I'm willing to spend the rest of my life sharing it with you."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Peeta… let's not do this tonight. I love you, okay?" My voice sounds too forceful, ugh. I sigh, "What can I do to make you believe that?"
"You really love me? As in really love me?"
"Yes, Peeta. Really."
"Sure? This is your last chance to back out." Why is he so stubborn?
I groan in frustration then press my lips against his for a kiss before he can ask me the same question one more time.
I feel him smile.