I can't tell who's more shocked, Peeta or me.
I, of course, would have never expected myself to be the first person to lean in and kiss Peeta, full on the mouth, tangling my fingers in his hair and securing his face to mine. However, he looks even more stunned, eyes flying wide open as soon as my lips touch his. My mouth moves familiarly against his, soaking up his staggering heat, before he pulls back, his hands gently holding my waist in an easy restraint.
"Katniss…" he murmurs, "What are you-?" His ocean-like eyes are confused, but also a little bit wide. He's staring at me so intensely, I want to look away. What am I doing? I think to myself. I'm the one who set carefully boundaries in my mind and heart, forced Peeta to be a friend and nothing more. Now, I'm sitting side by side with him on my bed, trying to attack him. I don't know what to say, because I honestly don't know even know myself what to feel. My cheeks start to burn with a rosy pink color as he continues to stare at me, his eyes wide and questioning. He's so warm, so steady, so inviting that I don't make any attempt to talk either. I just stare back, losing myself in his bright blue irises that gleam in the moonlight. His hair is tousled, and it reminds me of that day in my kitchen when I was accidentally caught stroking his hair while I thought he was asleep. The blond locks look the same they did that day about a month ago, and now, before I realize what I'm doing, I'm leaning closer by instinct, aching to run my fingers through his hair.
His eyes widen even more, and he opens his mouth to speak. I don't think I've ever seen him try so hard to form words, and it almost hurts me to see him try so hard. It's minutes before he finally responds.
"I…" he utters, running a hand through his hair. "I don't understand."
"What do you mean?" I ask stupidly. I of course know full well what he means, but I can't bring myself to form a response, to tell him how much I actually need him. I suppose I do love him, but I don't think I can bring myself to say it out loud. Everyone I've ever loved is now gone, and I know that I would not survive if he left. The thought isn't even imaginable.
He interrupts my pained thoughts with a quiet, "You don't want this, Katniss." There's no malice in his voice, which makes it even more heartbreaking. He truly believes that I don't feel anything for him at all. That every single thing I've ever said to him has been an act, a ruse to please the Capitol as they tugged at us like puppet strings. This thought enrages me. After all the Capitol has done to him, even after how I reacted to the news of him being captured, and I'm sure he heard from several people who realized before I did that I loved him, he still won't believe. I can't tell if my heart is breaking because of my anger at the Capitol or because of my genuine sadness. Or maybe it's because I realize that what I'm about to do will only suck me in deeper towards things I swore to myself I would never do again.
His gaze masks his pain well, but I know better. I slide my arms around his neck, breathing in that scent of cinnamon and dill. His eyes fall shut, the skin of his forehead pinched in stress and confusion. I don't know what I feel, or what he feels, but in this moment, I have to tell him the truth. I know I'm not ready to tell him I love him, but I can tell him what I know in my heart of hearts is one hundred percent true. I move my lips to his ear and whisper into it, raising goose bumps on his bare arms.
"Please, Peeta," I beg, needing a steady reassurance that what I'm about to do is right. "Look at me."
His eyes open slowly, and now the pain is visible in his expression, along with the confusion and shock. "Katniss…" he begins, his voice gentle against the humid night air of the room. "I—you don't have to do this…"
"Just let me talk, please," I interrupt, knowing that whatever he's going to say will only complicate things even more. I try to begin, but I'm so scared to finally let him in, to let him fully understand what I've felt about him over these past three years. It's scary to think of him knowing me inside and out for all I am, and still loving me in spite of it, when I know that love only leads to anger and loss. My mind and my heart seem to be at war with each other. My heart wants me to tell him the truth, to wipe that pained whisper off of Peeta's lips with a simple 'I need you'. But my mind is being practical, reminding me of my darkest times and where the love I used to reserve for a few special people landed me. I try to remind myself Peeta is still here, my arms still wrapped around his neck, but I struggle to concentrate on that with so many intermingling thoughts battling in my head. Finally, in order to reassure myself that what I'm about to do is right, I press my lips to his softly yet suddenly to make sure he has no chance to pull away. I feel the heat, the fire… I glance up to look in his blue eyes, and they seem to be melting into mine, erasing every practical thought my mind has conjured up. For years, I've been so indecisive, racking my brain and thinking all of these painful thoughts out of fear of loss. I've never let my heart do what it wants, but with his blue eyes burning into mine, those eyes I would know anywhere, the words flow out of my mouth with an unstoppable force. For the first time in my life, I let my heart do the talking.
"I know I've misled you, Peeta," I begin, rushing to pour my thoughts out. "I know I've hurt you. I rejected you that day on the train and made you and I and everyone else around us believe that I felt nothing. That I used you just to get home to be with my family. I will admit I was so confused in those first Games. I had wanted to come up to you so many times and thank you for throwing that bread, enduring a beating for me, a Seam girl you didn't even know… But I just didn't. You had friends, you were well-liked—I even remember the day Olive Wright decided to tell you that she liked you and you stood there, so polite and understanding when you gently let her down. I knew nothing about you, besides the fact that you went to my school and were the baker's son. After that day in the rain though, I knew you weren't like some of your other friends. You were good. You cared about people, you knew what to say, you just knew somehow…. And you knew that day in the rain, what I needed. You saved my life, Peeta. Even before you did it in a more public way because of the Games, you saved me by giving me that hope. And I remember picking a dandelion the next day, and knowing my family and I were going to make it through. You made eye contact with me, but I never said anything. Until we were being prepped and primed to fight to the death against each other. I still regret that even now, with you here, in my arms. In the Games, I did put somewhat of an act on to keep us alive, but I wanted to be your friend. And in the cave, I wanted you to kiss me again before my head wound started to bleeding. Throughout the Victory tour, I was so glad I had you as a friend that I forgot how much I'd hurt you. When the Quell came around, I knew I cared about you. You were my friend, but I had chosen the rebellion and-" I wince the name, "Gale. But I wasn't stupid. I knew you were prepared to die for me. And I was just as prepared to die for you. Because even though I never told you, I wouldn't have made it on my own. I would have stayed locked up in that arena, miserable. I meant it when I said I needed you on the beach, and I meant it when I kissed you. I believed I was responsible for you getting captured. I still do. And it took me all that time, you being ripped out of my life, for me to finally realize how I really felt about you. Which was that I cared. I cared about you, my boy with the bread who always knew what to say and talked to audiences for me, comforted me from all my bad dreams, kept me in one piece after almost everything I loved I lost. And it seemed so unfair, because then you were gone. You finally saw me as who I was, and that broke me. I realized that I had never deserved you, because someone who didn't love me like you did would think the same things. That I'm a monster. I…. everybody knew but me, Peeta. And I'm sorry—I'm sorry that it took me so long to figure it out."
Silent tears are running down my cheeks, and I can tell that within a few seconds they will build to a steady sob. Peeta's eyes are still wide and shell-shocked, staring at me with a burning intensity. I can't bear to look at him, knowing he has every right to be angry with me. Here I am, trying to tell him how much I care about him, when all I've done is push him away throughout these years. I let him believe everything I did was an act. I broke him.
Just when I think Peeta is going to continue his silence and leave, move on and forget me, his hand gently reaches out to tilt my chin up. When he notices the tears in my eyes and the sob constricted in my throat, his eyes soften immediately. He hesitates, touching my arm with a calloused finger, and when I don't flinch, he pulls me against him softly, his chin resting on my matted hair. The world moves around us, but it feels as if we are frozen in time. His heartbeat, beating against my ear, fills the silence of the room as he whispers reassurances to me. I think of my dream again, how after how much I hurt him, he still sits here, comforting me and loving me. I wince, completely broken down. I will never be good enough for him. I can't give him what he wants; love him the way he deserves to be loved. My heart just isn't capable of that anymore.
The quiet stretches on as my sobs halt to an ending. The only evidence left of my crying stint is my tear-trailed cheeks; Peeta's soaked shirt, and the sound of silence permeating the room. It's always silent after I've had a bad dream and it's finally passed.
I think over what I've said, hoping Peeta realizes I mean what I say. That I do love him. I'm just too afraid to let him in.
But I want to see that same smile I saw in the woods earlier today. I want to make him that happy every day for the rest of his life, love him the way he should be loved. I just don't think I can.
I'm thinking Peeta is going to let me just go to sleep and let the silence stretch on, giving us both a night to think, but after a few more moments, his gentle voice breathes against the top of my head.
"It's okay, Katniss," he murmurs. "I understand. Don't worry about me. I wouldn't be alive without you either. Please," his voice becomes softer now, pleading. "Don't feel like you owe me anything."
I understand his words and what he's implying. He still doesn't realize what I'm offering. That I am actually trying to put myself out on a limb by telling him to stay with me. He doesn't know it, but I do. And I hope that one day he can grasp it just as much as my mind does. I can't live without him. Maybe at one point I did feel like I was merely using him for my own advantage, but all along, I can now see that he has never been a toy for me to play around with then break. He's always been able to tug at the strings of my heart, and if I'm being honest, I think I've always cared about him. Now is my chance to prove to him, and only him, for real this time, without any cameras or fanatic Capitol people watching and hanging onto our every last word, just how much I need him. So as he is about to disentangle himself and stand up, probably to go home and try to forget about the events of this night, I cling to him tightly with every ounce of strength I have. When he opens his mouth to protest, I don't let him finish.
I kiss him with everything I can muster, trying to make him understand how much I've always needed him. He is being gentle and polite, trying to argue with me about what I want again. But I won't let our lips break apart. Eventually, he gives up and starts to kiss me back, this time genuinely wrapping his arms around my waist as I melt against him. He is so warm and strong and everywhere that I can't concentrate on one part of him at once. My fingers tangle in his hair and our breaths mingle together as my mouth opens to weave my tongue with his. I know I must seem desperate, but I don't care. I need him. And I need even more to make him finally understand that.
Eventually, we have to break away for air, and he presses his forehead to mine as our heavy breathing fills the room. Conflicting emotions in his eyes, he gingerly reaches down to kiss my forehead softly. I close my eyes as a million moments flash through me. Long nights on the train, makeup and costumes and parades that all felt so ridiculous, except for the fact that he was there with me. I even have a vision of that day in the school lot, when I picked a dandelion and stared straight into those bright blue eyes. Back then, I could have never imagined a moment like this with Peeta Mellark, the friendly baker's son. But now, it feels as if everything that's ever happened to me in this life has had the sole purpose of leading me back to Peeta, in this moment, our bodies intertwined.
"You love me," he whispers suddenly, asking a question. "Real or not real?"
He knows my answer, and I see his lips turn up in that breathtaking smile that I've only seen him wear a handful of times.
So, as the quiet night settles around us, I focus on those eyes, now free of any doubt or cloudy confusion these past few years have brought.
"Real," I tell him.