Everything felt wrong. But maybe it was only because it was different. Two months ago, I would have walked right into Peeta's house without a second thought, as he never kept it locked. Now, I stood behind him as he twisted the knob.
The living room was tidy, which was rather unusual. Instead of being displayed messily on the table, his paints were tucked neatly away on the corner bookshelf. Framed photographs lined the wall that lead into the kitchen. The couch cushions were in their places and not sunken in, which implied that Peeta had finally taken to sleeping in his bed.
At least one thing remained: Peeta's house smelled like flour and warm cinnamon. I followed him inside and he flicked on the flight, my hunting boots clicking on the hardwood floor that shined, telling me that it had been recently mopped.
"Has Sae been over?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Peeta turned around. "She hasn't visited for a few weeks. Her granddaughter comes by sometimes, though." I sighed, relieved that he didn't catch on to what I had really been asking.
"I, uh… Really like what you've done with the place."
His smile said it all. He knew that I had been hinting about the cleaning. "Well, I've got to have something do in the evenings."
That panged a little bit, knowing that he would rather clean his house than visit me. But I brushed it off. "Don't you paint anymore?"
He started walking down the left hallway. "Nothing's inspired me enough to paint for a while," I followed him slowly, my arms folded in front of me. I was reminded of when I was a small child, before Prim was born, and my mother would take me along to houses of her patients when they were too ill to travel. Being in a stranger's house. That's exactly how I felt.
"In here," He called and a light came on in the last room of the hallway. I rounded the corner and before my eyes were the paintings that Peeta had showed me during the Victory Tour, accompanied by some new portraits that weren't familiar to me.
The uncomfortable feeling that I carried before melted away as I approached one of the paintings. Particularly the one that Peeta painted representing the water. The dripping water in our cave during our first Hunger Games. I was reminded that the real Peeta painted this, before the Capitol obscured his memories.
"You've seen these before," Peeta broke the silence. "Real or not real?" I realized that this was the beginning of his quizzing.
"Real," I answered before countering it. "Well, I've seen most of them. Some of these, I've never seen before. You must have painted them when…" My voice trailed because I wasn't sure how to word what I was trying to say.
"When my mind was still set on killing you." He finished, almost in a whisper.
"Peeta," I was about to begin my argument, assuring him that it wasn't him that wanted to kill me. That it wasn't real.
He cut me off before I could continue. "That one," He nodded towards the painting that I stood before. "That was in the cave."
He didn't need to ask for me to answer, "Real."
"That's where we stayed after you found me," I nodded and he nodded in response, a look of concentration shining through his eyes.
It took him longer to ask the next one. "That's where you tricked me," He stated, staring at the ground, his mouth set. "You gave me something to make me sleep."
I was worried now, worried that he was losing himself. Although it was true, I was concerned that in confirming it, it would set him off into a hijacked flashback. I didn't answer.
His eyes snapped up to me. "Real or not real?" He demanded. His eyes were still blue, but his reaction scared me.
After a moment, I answered. "Real." I watched him carefully, taking note of how his eyes momentarily darkened. "But Peeta, I only did it to-"
"To save me. I know." His hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists. He was warding off the flashback. His eyes were blue.
I waited, watching him. Slowly, he raised his head and moved on to the next painting as if nothing had happened.
He stopped before a painting that I did not recognize, although I knew exactly what it was. There was a large moon in the corner of the canvas that shown down onto what seemed to be a rippling lake. At the edge of the lake, just at the edge of the shore, sat two figures with their backs turned to the viewer. They were so close that they almost appeared connected, although you could tell the immediate differences in figures. One was reasonably taller with a head full of sandy blonde hair. The shoulders were broad and the torso was wrapped in a forest green top. The smaller one had a slight figure, dressed in red, with a dark braid that fell down its back.
It was unmistakably us, sitting on the shore during the Quarter Quell. I could feel my cheeks begin to burn with the memory of what took place in that exact spot. Peeta stepped forward as if to get a closer look.
"Real or not real?" I didn't have to clarify what he was asking. He wanted to know if it happened. If we sat there, just as he had painted. If we kissed there, just as I recently remembered.
"Real," I confirmed, stepping up beside him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his body turn in my direction. I looked over to meet his gaze.
"Real or not real?" He asked once more, quieter, deeper. I stared at him for a moment, knowing what he was asking but not wanting to answer. Was that kiss real? Or was it part of my act? I considered it, going back to the warm spark that raced through my veins and bubbled in my stomach that night. The hunger that I had never felt before, and I was a girl from District 12, where hunger was a common thing to know. It was a different kind of hunger.
I lowered my eyes, no longer able to look into his. He was awaiting my answer. "Katniss…"
I closed my eyes. "Real." I whispered, allowing the word to linger and set in.
It was silent after that, all except Peeta's breathing beside me. I don't know how long I sat there, immobile with my eyes tightly shut. It seemed like a lifetime before I heard him move beside me.
"Come on," He said in a normal, steady voice. His heavy footsteps fell behind me as he exited the room. I allowed my eyelids to flutter open and fixed my gaze on the painting once more. That boy never ceased to amaze me, the way he could capture something in his mind and let his paints recreate it so that all could see. I stood there, staring at the two figures that we once were, and allowed myself to miss the way we used to be.
"Katniss?" His voice carried down the hallway. When I followed his voice to the kitchen, I halted. Peeta stood next to the counter, examining a small box, pinching a card between his fingers. "Looks like Dr. Aurelius sent something for you, too."
I stepped forward. "What would he send to me?" I wondered aloud, my fingers replacing Peeta's on the card that had been taped to the box.
"Katniss," It read. "I know you didn't request these but I sent them anyway in hopes that they might help both you and Peeta with your recovery. When the time comes, you may put them to use, but only when you feel that you two are ready." Beneath Dr. Aurelius' message was an underlined demand, "Call soon," followed by his signature.
"What do you think it is?" Peeta wondered, taking a seat on the barstool behind the counter.
"Who knows? Maybe some kind of Capitol drug," I offered as an idea. But then why would he include, "only when you feel that you two are ready?" Are you ever really ready to pop some kind of colorful Capitol pill that makes you forget to care about anything other than which way is up and which is down?
I sighed, taking the box under my arm. I guess I would find out what it was soon enough. "I guess I better get going," I said, looking out of his kitchen window at the darkening sky. "Wouldn't want to let the cat starve," I teased as I turned towards the living room.
He laughed softly and stood, following me to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow?" I hoped, my back still turned to him.
"Tomorrow." He agreed and I let the door swing in. I didn't turn around until he called, "Katniss?"
"Yeah?" I looked over my shoulder.
He hesitated in the doorway. "Thank you,"
I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For being more stubborn than I am." He explained with a small smile. I laughed, knowing he was talking about our argument at the wood's edge. It was a good thing I was stubborn. Otherwise, Peeta and I would still be in the situation we were yesterday. Apart with no intent of seeing one another.
"Anytime," I called back to him, my hunting boots crunching over the hard dirt and rocks that separated our houses.
As a first author's note, I want to take the time to thank all of my readers so far. I do hope that you enjoy the story and if not, I apologize and look forward to some suggestions from you. I want to give a very big thank you to sugarangelcookies for being my very first reviewer and also for offering kind compliments. Reviews mean everything. :)
This is my very first story here on fanfiction so I'm still learning the ropes and I do want to throw in a quick disclaimer, although it should be obvious that I don't own the Hunger Games. I am simply a fan that wanted more after the last book ended.
If you have an idea, event, or just something that you'd like to see between characters in mind, please let me know by all means. I would love suggestions.