Sitting soft in the purest snow
Winter comes upon us with a wicked cold snap. The days are frigid, forcing me to add layers to my hunting gear and turn up my collar to the unforgiving wind. And yet, there is a warmth growing within me that I'm sure has something to do with Peeta. Spending quality time with him has been one of my favorite things to do. Our hours spent basking in each other's presence is reminiscent of our time together after I hurt my ankle before the Quell. And yet, it is more perfect than I could imagine.
And my life is infinitely better than I ever would have thought up until now. Though he tries to do it subtly, I have noticed Peeta's lingering touches. But every time I get just a little too close, I am reminded of the minutes that he spends gripping the chair in the dining room. Of the flashbacks he so graciously tries to conceal from me. But they are real just the same.
As I walk back towards my house, my quiver bounces on my shoulder and the wood of my bow digs into my back. With the weather having taken a turn for the worst, I didn't bother to stay out in the woods for nearly as long as I usually do. So when I emerge from the forest right outside the Village, I am surprised to see the lights on in my house. I pause by the fountain for a moment just to process it.
"You got amnesia now, sweetheart? That ol' house ain't looking any different than it did yesterday."
Haymitch is always quick to put a damper on my mood. But when turn to glare at him, he isn't looking at me. He's looking at the light in my kitchen window with a strange expression. Ignoring him, I force myself to not over-think it. Instead, I approach the house and gently inch the front door open. And I hope against hope that our pocket of peace has not been shattered.
"Peeta?" Before he can respond, I thrust my hunting supplies into the coat closet. Carrying a weapon isn't the best way to help him get through an episode.
But he isn't having an episode. Far from it, apparently. Before I can kick off my shoes, he's in front of me and practically floating. I give him a tentative smile, and that seems to be the only thing he needs.
Before I can process it, his arms are around me. Briefly, I feel panic begin to overtake me, and adrenaline rushes through my veins. But he's not hurting me. His arms are on my lower back, not my neck. He's rubbing and pulling me towards him, not squeezing the life out of me.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
He must have sensed me tense, because he quickly begins to pull away. Instead, I return his embrace and pull him back to me by his shoulder blades. He leans down and rests his head in my neck, his breath tickling the skin beneath my hair. Sighing, I bury myself deeper into his shoulder and let his scent consume me. Cinnamon and dill. The smell has come to mean home, and I wish I could drown in it.
"Katniss." His voice is relieved, my name like a poem upon his lips. It lights something within me. I find that I quite like it. "You'll never believe what came in from the train today."
The words make me stiffen before I can control my reaction. The train means sustenance, but it also forces me to remember the Capitol. I try to remind myself that he would be more urgent and forthcoming if the news were bad. Instead, he is hugging me in the front foyer, and I didn't even make it 5 feet inside. "Please tell me Effie didn't insist on sending you that weird makeup."
"Face-paint," he so graciously corrects me, "but no. The surprise is already in the kitchen for you."
He tries to retreat from the hug, but I hold on for a moment longer. Eventually, he just sighs and resigns himself to wait for me. After a few minutes, I force myself to retract from our embrace. Before I can react, he drops to his knee and bends over my feet. It confuses me until I feel the laces of my boots begin to loosen and the material droop just a little bit around my foot. He repeats the process on my other shoe and holds them down so that I can just step out of them. We share a smile as he stands.
"Okay, show me."
The hot chocolate is just as good as I remember, if my memory serves me correctly. But then again, it certainly hasn't ever since the lightning tree. But I relish the taste, the sweetness. And the heat. Not only of the drink, but of the window seat that Katniss and I share. She is close, though little of our bodies touch. Her presence in and of itself is a gift. I never would have thought we would really be here. Doing something so normal, so uninteresting and yet infinitely enjoyable. Content would I be if we spent the rest of our life together just like this. The sky begins to darken with clouds even though it's only midday.
And then it starts to snow.
At first, only smaller wisps flit by the window, but they begin to pick up in pace and number. Until they resemble little snowballs dancing in the sky. We spend so long watching them that our hot cocoa is long drained and cold.
Once our mugs have been placed in the sink and Katniss returns to my side, I let myself get lost in the view outside the window. Mesmerizing as it is, I can feel sleep begin to overtake me. Maybe this time I don't need to fight it. It's been so long since Katniss was the trigger for an episode. Surely I could get away with drifting off for awhile just this once…
Her hand is warm on my knee when she presses it to my leg. I blearily blink at her, not really processing what's going on. Not until her thumb begins rubbing ever-so-gently in a circular pattern. I try to focus on her face and wait for her to speak.
"What do you say we go play in the snow rather than sit here looking at it?"
Chancing a look out the window, all I can imagine is the biting air. Though I do not remember it well, I know that at the bakery my brothers and I did not play outside when it snowed. We were always too busy making seasonal treats in preparation for the holiday rush or attempting to placate our mother's rage over the lack of customers braving the cold.
"We don't have to if you don't want to…" Her voice brings me back to the present, more positive things. Just like it always has. Her head is ducked and her cheeks are flushed with some kind of embarrassment.
"Of course, I do." I whisper it, knowing how delicate she can be in moments like these. Leaning over, I gently brush a stray hair behind her ear and will her eyes to meet mine. Though it takes a moment, she raises them and gives me a tender look. Her smile is shy, but the corners of her lips contrast her usual scowl.
While I struggle with my boots, she adds another log to the flames filling the fireplace. When she inevitably offers to help I have already laced one shoe. Seeing as the other is my prosthetic, I brush her off. By the time I am finished, she has already donned hers and a thick wool jacket. She disappears behind the door to the coat closet and I take the opportunity to stand up with as much dignity as I can muster. The closet door closes after a moment more and she holds my jacket open for me. She shakes her head when I reach for it, so I allow her to help me put it on. The coat is new and offers blissfully thick protection from the weather. Albeit, it ends past my mid-thigh.
As Katniss bends over at the waist to close the buttons, I let myself revel in the semblance of peace that we have created. Outside of my occasional episodes, our time together has always been calming to me. As she straightens to help with the last buttons up top, she raises her eyebrow inquisitively at my expression. I give her a smile as she finishes, and watch as a warm flush crawls across her skin. It's pathway is mesmerizing, blossoming first on the cheeks before spreading to her ears and fanning across what little of her collarbone is visible. With a gentle, slow hand I adjust her coat collar the best I can to cover her skin.
The moment seems to last forever, as though we are frozen in time. Eventually, she turns away from me and opens the front door. It is colder than I anticipated and I wince at the breeze. But Katniss has a childish grin on her face and practically giggles when a flake lands on the tip of her nose. She winks at me and begins running down the path. I can't help it; I quickly chase after her and shut the door behind me in a rush.
Thinking I've won, I ensnare her in my arms and fight her wriggling escape attempts. Her reaction is wild, but she does not hurt me in the slightest. It's all fun and games for a moment until she kicks her foot backwards at the wrong angle. She lets out a squeak as we tumble towards the ground. My back gives a jolt and the snow is brutally cold beneath me. Katniss collapses on top of me, still panting from the running. When we make eye contact we burst into a fit of laughter.
I wish I could live in this moment forever.
I have had this thought a lot lately, but it seems as though we will have moments like this for the rest of our lives. We quiet, but she doesn't move off of me, and I can tell that she is thinking about the same thing. She gently brings her gloved hand to my cheek, and I brush a hair out of her face. It's a deliciously soft silence.
The rest of our day is spent playing outside and making snow angels. When we go our separate ways, we leave two snowmen behind that roughly resemble us.
I fell in love with the fire long ago
Now that I have sorted out my memories, my hijacked nightmares no longer haunt me. Instead, I am plagued by dreams of Katniss. She dies in brutal, inhuman ways. But other times, I am confronted with the images of things that I have fantasized over my entire life. Of kissing her, holding her, touching her. And yet, I wake up alone in an empty house. Without her.
I fear I may be close to my breaking point.
Last night was one of those nights. It was unbearable, the thought of going back to bed. So instead, I tried to be useful in the kitchen. The sun has just risen when I force myself to acknowledge that I have been making excuses to wait just a little bit longer before going to Katniss's house. I just need her presence, to see her. And to kiss her senseless.
After a while of inspecting my fresh wares, I settle on a tray of cinnamon rolls. I whip up some frosting in record time, throw a towel over the dish, and quickly cross the path to her house.
I am quick to get to the door, but my thoughts begin to spiral when I raise my hand to knock. Because what if she is sleeping? I don't usually come over this early… what if she doesn't want me here?
I am about to retreat when the door flies open and she greets me with a smile. When she sees the tray, she interrupts me before I get the chance to respond, let alone open my mouth.
"Cinnamon rolls?" Her voice takes on a much more gentle tone, and one look in her eyes tells me that she is remembering something. Maybe the last time we had these together. When ever that could have been…
I nod weakly, and she practically drags me into the dining room. When I sit down, she rushes to the kitchen to get us utensils. She returns with Buttercup traipsing at her side. We dig in, and I have to stop myself from reaching for her hand. Not that it matters much because she pets the cat in her lap with her free hand instead.
Though we started eating at the same time, she finishes much quicker than I. For a moment, it reminds me of the desperate way she would always dig into food on the trains. When she looks at me, I am quickly drawn to the bit of white sitting on the corner of her mouth. And I can't help it; I reach out and brush it off with my fingertip. I'm not nearly bold enough to eat it, so I gently rub it on a napkin while maintaining eye contact. And I watch as her pleasant blush slowly fades away.
"What do you want to do today?" I mean to pose it as a casual question, but my desperation for company must seep into it. Katniss's eyebrows furrow for a moment and she seems to be trying to read me. I wait patiently until she decides what she wants to say.
"When I was little, my father brought me to a beautiful lake. It's a couple hours of a hike, so we only went occasionally. He taught me how to swim there; that's why I didn't struggle in the Quell." I expect her to be solemn at the mention of her father, but she has a spark in her eyes. Today, talking about him is making her happy.
"I can go if you want to-"
"No!" Her outburst startles me, and she quickly rushes to apologize. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just… I was hoping we might go there together today."
"Kat, I think it might be just a little on the cold side for swimming."
Our hike up until this point has been spent almost entirely in silence. Or rather, as silent as it can get with Peeta walking in the woods. I have to laugh at his weak attempt at a joke. Because of course it's too cold for swimming, and of course I knew that before I dragged him all the way out here. But I don't tell him that.
Instead, I sit on a rock overlooking the lake and open my backpack. It takes me a moment, but I find them. And he clearly doesn't know what they are. I pat the spot beside me and gesture for him to sit. When he does, I set them in front of his feet.
"My order for ice skates came in from the Capitol this morning." This seems to intrigue him, and he bends over to pick them up. I place my hand over his and gently get him to set them back down. "It's okay; I'll help you. The laces can be hard."
As it happens, the laces are hard. Tying them is much more difficult than I anticipated. Fastening them onto his feet reminds me of the way my father used to do this for me. Except, of course, our skates were handmade. Instead of complicated, fancy shoes ours were wood platforms tied with rope and the bottoms had the heads of retired pickaxes attached. They never felt rudimentary until now.
I just hope I don't fall. Because Peeta already looks skeptical of them. He doesn't need to see me get hurt when I'm the one with two good legs and experience.
But I get lucky, because unlike the bows from the training before the first Game, these skates are similar enough to the ones from home that I get the hang of them. When we get onto the ice, Peeta is quick to link our arms together.
"You do realize that this will just result in the both of us falling, right? Catching you is a little out of my skillset." I smirk at him, but he seems unbothered. He just shrugs.
"Maybe I want you to fall with me."
His words are so wholly unexpected that I feel myself flush. He's always been good with words, but not nearly this… this flirtatious. When he sees my facial expression, he punctuates his statement with a wink. An infuriating wink.
Just when I think he's got the hang of it, he stumbles. He regains his balance and gives me a sheepish look. But after half an hour, I can tell he no longer needs my support. When I begin to move my arm out of the crook of his, he tightens his grip. I try again, but he begins spinning us.
The second I escape, he holds my hand strong in his and pulls. He collapses into a snow bank with grace, while I am sent careening after him. Unlike the day with the snow angels, we do not laugh. No, we stare into each other's eyes instead.
I cannot find it in myself to be mad at him for long. Because I am not hurt, and he was just trying to be funny. I push myself up to be able to hold his gaze better, my hands framing his head. A look blossoms in his eye, and a redness begins to spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. It takes me a moment to realize how intimate and hauntingly familiar this position is. When I lift one of my hands to push myself off of him, he grabs my wrist gently and threads our hands together.
With our faces so close together, I can see his infinitely long, almost invisible eyelashes. And every subtle speck of color in his eye. We are in a place full of memories that I have always treasured. I vow to add this one to the list. I am just thinking about how much I've missed this intimacy when it happens.
Peeta kisses me.