The rest of that afternoon and evening is nothing short of pure torture. After the short welcoming ceremony at the train station, there is a formal banquet that drags on and on as every person of any importance whatsoever in District Twelve makes a speech as we all dine on more food than I've ever seen in my lifetime, and then finally, as the sun is going down, the Capitol officials present Peeta and his family with his new house in the Victor's Village. Throughout all of this, I want nothing more than to go home, bury my face in the pillow, and cry.
The cameras follow us wherever we go, and Peeta never once lets go of my hand as we walk from place to place. He sits by my side at the banquet, and at one point we even have a dance together. Only one, though, because he claims his leg is giving him trouble. Never, not once, do we have anything other than the most superficial conversation with each other. Isn't the weather beautiful. Isn't the food delicious. Doesn't everyone look nice all dressed up. Never have I felt so distant from someone who was so physically close. It's a very lonely feeling.
I suppose it was foolish of me to expect Peeta would come home from the Games unchanged. I didn't really expect that, did I? Of course going through something like that would change a person. Especially a person so pure of heart like Peeta. I can't even imagine what all he's lived through. I think I knew he would be different, but I didn't expect his feelings for me to have changed. Like I said, foolish.
On the outside Peeta is unchanged—he is as cheerful and jovial as always. His speech at the banquet makes everyone laugh, and then it makes them cry. He charms everyone who comes up to personally congratulate him, the smile never leaving his face. But there is something missing from his eyes—the old sparkle, the hint of laughter that used to linger there. I can see it, even if nobody else can. It breaks my heart.
Finally, finally, the cameras are turned off. It's fully dark now, and we have just finished taking an extensive tour of Peeta's new house. Despite myself, I am in awe. My own house in the Seam could fit into Peeta's living room, and he has a large kitchen, a study, three bedrooms, and two indoor-plumbing bathrooms besides. The only other place I've seen with such luxury is at Madge Undersee's house, and her father is the mayor.
"I think we've got everything we need," announces one of the cameramen, lowering the camera down from his shoulder.
We're all gathered in the living room—by now it's just me and Peeta, his family, Haymitch, Effie and the Capitol television crew.
"Thank god," says Haymitch and throws back yet another drink. Honestly, at this point I'm amazed he's still standing upright.
Peeta immediately releases my hand, and I'm left feeling even more bereft than before.
There is a small bustle as the crew starts packing up their equipment, Peeta's brothers depart for the kitchen and the piles of food waiting there, and Haymitch collapses on the couch with a large belch.
"Haymitch! Honestly!" Effie cries, affronted.
Haymitch answers her with another rude noise, and Effie stalks off in high dudgeon. You'd think she'd be used to him by now.
Peeta turns to me and says, "It's getting late. You must be tired."
He's dismissing me.
"Oh, yeah," I stumble. "I guess I should get going."
He nods.
"We'll talk soon, okay?" he says, but he won't meet my eyes.
"All right," I say softly, and turn to go. I make my exit quickly without saying goodbye to anyone. I don't want to let them see the tears that are finally breaking free.
Later that night, I am lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
I am so confused.
Why does Peeta no longer love me? What exactly had happened to him that I didn't know about? Had I done something? Or failed to do something?
Or…and this thought horrifies me beyond measure…had none of it been true to begin with? Was it possible that this had all been some elaborate plan of Peeta's from the beginning? No. It couldn't be. Could it? Is it possible that the Peeta that I thought I knew existed only in my mind? That kiss…it had to be real. Didn't it?
No. No, I can't believe it. I won't believe it. Because if that's true, then that means he's played me for an utter fool.
But it doesn't make sense—if it was all just a ruse, why not just tell me? I would have gone along to save his life. I would have done that for just about anybody, but especially for Peeta, seeing as I owed him my own life and all. But why choose me? Why not a girl he was already friends with? Someone who would have been much better on camera than I was…
I am so confused, and now I'm starting to get angry. Who does he think he is, to tell me he loves me, to kiss me like that? To make me fall in love with him, and then to come home and pretend like none of it had ever happened, like none of it mattered?
He tricked me into making myself vulnerable, and then he hurt me. I had thought I could trust him. I thought he was a good guy.
He owes me an explanation, and I am not going to wait a second longer to get it. I have been waiting to talk—to really talk—to him for almost a month now. I am done waiting.
Quietly I climb out of bed, careful not to wake Prim. I get dressed, slip out the front door, and head towards Victor's Village. My anger carries me quickly back through the dark and quiet District, and before I know it, I am standing in front of Peeta's new house. I can't see any lights, and I suddenly realize it might not be the best idea to go barging into the house demanding answers in the middle of the night. I'm sure Peeta's mother, for one, would not be appreciative.
Maybe I can somehow figure out which one is Peeta's bedroom. I could throw rocks at the window or something. I know I'm not going to be able to sleep until I've talked to him, and I'm not going home without at least trying.
I circle around to the back of the house. I'm not sure exactly what I'm looking for until I see a light shining out of a room on the lower level. It's the kitchen, I realize, and I creep over to peek through the screen door.
Sitting alone at the large kitchen table is Peeta. He looks utterly dejected—he's hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, and suddenly all my anger disappears.
I don't know how long I have been sitting here—maybe an hour or two, ever since my family said goodnight. Today has been one of the hardest days of my life, and I know there are many more like it to come in the approaching years. It is not a pleasant thought. I can't keep the vision of Katniss' face out of my mind. Everything between us today had been so wrong. I had tried to act naturally around her, to be casual and let her know I didn't expect anything, but I know I failed completely. And I hadn't been able to read her at all—her face, her expressions, which I used to be able to read so easily, had been a complete puzzle. Was she angry with me? Did she pity me? Had she figured out yet that we were in this for life? I couldn't tell.
"Peeta?" Her voice comes out of the darkness, startling me.
I quickly lift my head to see Katniss standing at the back door, a concerned look on her face as she watches me. I can't believe she's here. Why is she here? She couldn't wait until tomorrow to do this?
"Hi," I say.
"Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you."
"Of course," I answer automatically. "Have a seat," I say and gesture to the chair beside me. She shuts the screen door quietly behind me and slowly walks closer.
"Are you sure it's okay?" she asks as she sits down. "Your mom will flip if she finds me here this late."
"Don't worry," I assure her. "Everyone has gone home. Nobody else here but me."
"What do you mean they've gone home? Isn't your family going to live here with you?"
"Well, my mom and dad need to stay close to the bakery, for obvious reasons, and my oldest brother Jax is getting married in a few months, so it didn't make sense for him to move twice," I explain. "Seth decided to stay in town, too, since he works at the bakery and it's closer to school. So yeah, it's just me here."
I try to act like this doesn't bother me, but I can tell Katniss sees through my act. She looks at me with sympathy.
"Wow. All alone in this big house? Won't you get lonely?"
I shrug.
"Probably. To be honest, though, I'm not that bothered about getting away from my mother. She's so…well, you know what she's like."
Katniss just nods, avoiding my eyes. I'm pretty sure at that moment we're both remembering that day in the rain, and the mark my mother had left on my cheek as punishment for burning the bread. Suddenly the tension between us becomes too much for me to take.
"I know why you're here, Katniss."
It's abrupt, but right now all I want is to be left alone so I can go wallow in my misery. I want to get this over with.
"You do?" Katniss' eyebrows shoot up.
"Yes. You've come to let me down easy. It's okay, Katniss. Haymitch told me he gave you directions on what to say. I know you just did it to help me, so don't worry. Thanks for that, by the way."
Katniss doesn't say anything. I guess I've taken the wind out of her sails—she probably had a whole speech prepared, but I don't want to hear it.
"And I know I owe you an apology," I continue. "I never meant for you to get caught up in all this. I know it's been horrible with the cameras in your face all the time and having to pretend and everything. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. And I'll think of a way to get you out of this. Maybe if enough time goes by…"
"Peeta," she interrupts me. "Stop."
I just look at her, wondering what she's going to say. Maybe she'll just leave, her purpose here complete. Maybe she thinks the room is bugged. Actually, it probably is, now that I think about it. I don't care, though. President Snow doesn't care if the romance is actually real; he only cares if the people believe it is.
For a minute, she doesn't say anything. Then,
"I…am confused," she admits slowly.
That, I wasn't expecting.
"What's confusing you?" I ask.
"You are," she says. "I thought you didn't…"
She stops again, and now she's not the only one who's confused. Suddenly she stands up from her chair and crosses the room. She leans up against the sink with her back turned to me and stares out the window. Several minutes pass in silence. I wait patiently—the hardest part of this conversation is over with, so I let her think about what she wants to say.
"Peeta?" she finally says without turning around. "If I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?"
"Yes," I answer without hesitation.
"What you told me the day you went away…is it still true?"
She still won't turn to look at me.
I am stunned. She's asking me if I still love her. Why? Why does she want to put me through this again? Is my humiliation not complete? Does she want me to say no, just to spare her guilt?
I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to lie; not about this.
"Yes, it's still true," I answer, and for good measure I add, "It will always be true."
I see Katniss' shoulders relax, and she lets out a heavy breath. Finally, she turns back around. She looks happy. Happy?
"Peeta, I think there's been a misunderstanding," she says, smiling.
"A misunderstanding?"
"Yes. When Haymitch told you he coached me, well…that part is true. But Peeta, just because he told me what to say doesn't mean what I said wasn't true."
"Wait…what?" She doesn't mean what I think she means, does she? No…it couldn't be…
"The interview was fake, yes. But only because I couldn't go on there and act as myself. They would have hated me and it wouldn't have done you any good. And I was trying to help you, Peeta. But just because I acted like a simpering idiot and played to the audience it doesn't mean…my words were true, Peeta, even if the way I said it wasn't. Does that make sense?"
"Katniss…" I breathe, and suddenly I'm halfway across the room on my way to her, my heart in my throat. But then I stop.
"But wait…I don't understand. That day…you said you didn't…you don't know me."
Why am I still talking? Why am I not over there, kissing her? But I have to know…
"Yes, well…" Katniss is blushing now, looking down at her twisting hands. "A lot has changed since then."
"Like what?"
"Like I've realized that I did know you a bit from before, from school and stuff. And I watched you in the Games. I had to watch you almost die, several times. And…and you kissed me. That was a hell of a kiss, Peeta."
I grin.
"Technically, you started that kiss, you know."
What the hell? Shut up, Mellark!
But Katniss is looking at me again, and now she's got a smirk on her face.
"Maybe. But you certainly finished it, didn't you?"
"Actually, I think that was the Peacekeepers. If it had been up to me, it would have never been finished."
Katniss lets out another shaky breath.
"Me too," she whispers.
The next thing I know I've closed the distance between us. I take Katniss in my arms and kiss her with everything I have. She responds eagerly, and for a while everything else disappears. Kissing Katniss is a hundred times better than I remember.
We end up sitting on the floor, leaning up against the cabinets with our legs tangled together and our arms entwined. Katniss rests her head on my shoulder.
"Thank you for coming home, Peeta," she says, low.
"Well," I laugh. "You did tell me to. What else was I supposed to do but obey?"
"You could have given up." Katniss refuses to joke with me. "I know—for someone like you—what you had to go through, what you had to do, the memories you'll have to live with—I can see how easy it would be to not want to win…"
"Shh…" I silence her. I don't want to think of these things right now. I'm happy in this moment and I don't ever want it to end. "It was worth it, Katniss. I'm just grateful to be alive, and to be here with you right now, just like this."
"Okay," she says and snuggles further into me.
I know these things will need to be dealt with—Rue, Cato's drawn-out death, the loss of my leg—it's all sure to bring nightmares. But Katniss will be there to help me through it. I may just escape Haymitch's fate, after all.
I gather my courage.
"Will you stay here with me tonight?" I ask.
Katniss lifts her head and gives me a look, her eyebrow raised.
"Not for that, Katniss," I say quickly. "I just don't want to be alone tonight. And I'm not ready to let go of you yet. I'll be good, I promise."
Katniss laughs.
"I'm just teasing you, Peeta. I would like to stay, but I'll need to get up really early to go home. I don't want Prim to worry."
"What about your mom? Will she be mad?"
Katniss just shrugs.
"I don't know. It doesn't matter."
I sense that this is a sensitive topic for her, but I don't push it. We have lots of time, now, to talk and get to know each other better. It can wait.
"Come on," I say, standing up and offering her my hand. "Let's go to bed. It's been a long, hard day."
Together we climb the stairs to my new bedroom. With Katniss here beside me, I know tomorrow will be better.
AN: Eh, I'm not particularly happy with this, but it's late and I'm tipsy (Don't look at me like that. It is Saturday night, after all! And the kids are at grandma's.)…so I'm just going to post it anyway. Thanks for all the reviews and support! And thanks for sticking in when I was incommunicado for so long—sorry about that!