His hands shook and crushed the cup he held. I heard the ceramic pieces hit the floor and I could see the blood fall with it. His free hand lashed out and grabbed the edge of the counter. He was hunched over and I could see the sweat drip from his cheeks. Or were those tears?
Did I think that me confessing my love for him would make all of our problems go away? The shock resonating within me proves that's exactly what I thought. I don't know what to do. If I get any closer, Peeta might just have to kill me. If I stay away, I'll be breaking what's left of him; what's left of me. Everything looked so much brighter yesterday. So much more vivid and possible. We were damaged; but we weren't alone. We were broken together. But these flashbacks that Peeta have is a reminder that we will never be alright. The Capitol has managed to steal even an imperfect future from us.
"Peeta…it's not real. Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real." Forgetting the risk, I let my own cup fall to the floor and I walk forward. I run my hand up and down his arm that's gripping the counter still. When I reach his hand, I feel him pull away. "Peeta. Its me. Remember me? Don't forget." I don't allow him to take his hand from mine; I hold on tighter, as if it's a possession someone is trying to steal. I hold onto his hand as if it being taken away is some sort of crime against nature. For me, in this moment, that's exactly what it is. Still shaking, he sinks to the floor; I go down with him. He closes his eyes, and for a moment I think he's lost consciousness, but then I hear him moan.
"Peeta Mellark. Hold on; don't lose it. Not now. Remember where you are? You're in my house. Our house. You're home Peeta. With me." I hesitate to say my name. Will it trigger some other grotesque memory of me, something terrible I'd done made worse by the Capitol's manipulations?
"Home," he whispers. My hand is squeezing his so hard it hurts my owns fingers. "Home," he says again. Gently, I lay his head down on my lap. Still holding his hand, I brush away strands of hair that cover his eyes. Slowly, afraid of what may happen should he see me in his current state of mind, I kiss his forehead. "That's right. Home." We stay like this for another hour or so. He in my lap, me brushing his forehead.
"I'm sorry Katniss. I'm so sorry." I jump a little at the sound of his voice. He had been so quiet I thought he may have fallen asleep. He starts to move away. "Don't," I whisper. I need him to stay. I need him to stay on my lap, with me. If he moves, if he leaves this spot, I am afraid he will disappear into thin air, a memory of a better time. "Don't go." He stops pulling away, but he won't look at me.
"Katniss…did I hurt you?"
I push my lips together to keep from crying. "No," I said, my voice cracking. "Then why are you crying? Did I scare you?" He sounds so worried.
"Yes." He starts to leave me again. "I wasn't afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you. These flashbacks, my nightmares, I'm terrified one day you won't wake up, or one day I'll lose myself to a reality that doesn't exist. I'm terrified Peeta, for you, not of you."
My voice is now nothing but a whisper. "There's nothing you do could do to make me afraid of you."
He jumps to his feet, his face red with what I presume is anger. "I could have killed you Katniss! Do you understand that?"
Now I'm angry. "I could kill you right now if I wanted to!" Maybe these are not the best or smartest things to say to someone who has been brainwashed into thinking I'm a killer set on ending his life but it's all I can come up with. "That doesn't mean I'm going to though! Anything can happen at anytime! And you didn't hurt me at all. Not even a little bit." Finally he opens his eyes and his mouth falls to the floor.
"What?"
He's staring at my stomach, horror etched into his expression. I look down and see the blood smears on my nightshirt. I then do the most absurd thing. Laugh. I'm laughing because Peeta thinks I'm bleeding. I'm laughing because just hours ago we were discussing our evening plans. I'm laughing because I'm insane. Tears form in my eyes as my laughing continues.
"Look at us! We're so messed up," I say, barely able to get the words out through my sobs and laughter. Peeta looks absolutely terrified watching me lose my mind. Trying to subdue the giggles, I walk over to the cupboard and pull out some bandages. "Your blood. Not mine," I whisper. Understanding dawns on his face and he finally notices the cuts on his hand. He reaches for the bandages, but I hold them away.
"No, I'll do it." I slowly wrap his hand up so as not to hurt him anymore. By now, I've stopped laughing altogether, my temporary bout of madness gone. "Peeta, I meant what I said yesterday. I love you. And if you love someone, you stay with them. Always."
He must have noticed the tone in my voice because he lifts my chin so that now I'm looking directly into his eyes. "Always," he repeats. I smile, although I can feel it isn't a full smile, so I lean my cheek against his hand and inhale. Cinnamon.
"What a great end to the day, huh?" I tremble a little when Peeta crushes me to him. I don't ever want to move from this spot, from the protective case of Peeta's arms. This is where I feel safest. This moment, this position; it makes me feel like everything is ok, if only for awhile. But he has moments when he isn't Peeta, when he isn't my Peeta. And in those moments, being in his arms is the last place I should be; and the only place I want to be.
I feel Peeta's arms loosen around me and so I tighten my hold on him. I know Peeta; he thinks he needs to pull away because he doesn't want to hurt me, or make this situation worse. He doesn't understand how I really feel. That's my own fault; I've never explains to him just how much he means to me. My head is against his chest and so my words are muffled but I hope he hears them because I lack the courage to repeat them. "I heard you and Gale that night. And it isn't a matter of survival for me. It never has been when it came to the two of you." He tenses up. This is the first time I've mentioned Gale since Peeta's return to District 12. It occurs to me then that maybe Peeta mistook my silence about Gale as a sort of longing. It's nearly the opposite. I do miss Gale, but not in a romantic way. I miss the childhood friend I had. I miss the moments when Gale knew exactly what I wanted to say, or do. But I didn't miss Gale when his arms weren't holding me up. I didn't want to see Gale in the mornings. The sight of Gale didn't make my heartbeat so fast I thought it might stop. I didn't feel six thousand different emotions when I saw Gale. My silence about Gale was not because I longed for him, but because I hadn't thought about him so much now that Peeta was back.
"But to answer that question, its you I can't survive without. I can't live without you. I tried to. I really did. And I was a walking disaster. I have never had to be sedated that many times in my life. I hardly remember the first half of my time spent in District 13. They had to knock me out that many times. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't exist in a world where you didn't." He pulled me away from him so he could look at me. I wouldn't meet his gaze though; I hate feeling this vulnerable, this open. I hate it passionately.
"Katniss you don't have to explain yourself to me," he said. His lips met my forehead and I closed my eyes. I shook my head against his chest. "I have to explain it for me. I have to say this."
He wrapped his arms back around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. "Alright. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."
I take a deep breath. Just like with yesterday, once I said what I was about to, there would be no going back. I've come to realize though, I don't ever want to go back. Not without Peeta at least.
"For a moment, I did choose Gale. I did. It was the decision I had always expected myself to make. He was the easy choice, the closest choice I could make without uprooting my entire life. During the first Games, I couldn't understand myself. I knew I had feelings for Gale, but I still couldn't get you off of my mind, regardless of where we were. And when they whipped Gale, I admit, I did. I chose him. I chose the Seam. I chose the life that would be the closest to what I was used to. I came so close to losing him that I thought he was the reality I couldn't live without. But even then, even though I chose him, I couldn't let you go. I couldn't say goodbye." I stopped talking. I had to clear my throat. I didn't want Peeta to ever know that it wasn't always him, even though I know he already did. I never wanted to hear myself say it, and to now be here doing what I fear most, well, I feel nauseated to say the least.
"And when they announced the Quarter Quell, I let go of every decision I had made and I chose you."
I stopped talking again because it was getting hard to breathe. I've done a lot of confessing the past two days and I can only handle so much more. But I needed so badly to say these things, and courage to speak doesn't happen for me very often.
"I chose you. I chose your life above my own, above the lives of those I held dear. I chose to get you back alive no matter the cost, because a world where you don't exist isn't a world worth living in. When you hit that force field my heart stopped. For just a few minutes, my life lost all meaning. A world where you did not exist in, a world that took you from me, was not a world I wanted to fight for. I chose you. I choose you. It's unconditional for me as well." There. I said it. I said it and I couldn't take it back even if I wanted to.
Peeta didn't say a word. He didn't have to. All he had to do was kiss me and I felt so much relief. One kiss and it was almost like this evening hadn't happened. I nearly forgot Peeta had been lost to me for a second. But when I tried to press my fingers against his, I felt the bandages instead. Peeta winced and it all came crashing back to me. Oh. We aren't ok. We never will be. I could lose him forever at any given moment. He could lose me the same way. The Capitol has fallen and eventually will be just a terrible memory and even after that, will be reduced to nothing but history on the pages of a schoolbook. And yet, the ramifications on my life, and Peeta's life and everyone who is alive now, and the generations to come after, will never stop. The children of the future may not have to worry about being reaped into a fight to the death, but they would have to be raised by parents who knew the absolute terror of just waiting. Waiting to hear your name called. Sobbing when it was. Or even if it wasn't. Even if you hadn't been chosen, you most likely knew the child who was. We all had nightmares, some more than others, but our generation will always be plagued by these memories. And we are expected to raise the next generation? Fat chance.
Peeta took my hand with his good one and entwined our fingers. I kiss his cheek and pull him towards the bathroom. He raises his eyebrows, wondering what my motive is. "I have to clean your cut." I tug him forward. "No offense Katniss, but can I clean it?" I turn around. "Why?" He shuffles his feet and looks to the ground. "Well, you're kind of rough."
I snort and roll my eyes. "I promise to be gentle," I say, my voice oozing with sarcasm. He groans. When we've reached the bathroom, I make him stand in front of me while I sit on the counter. Gently, I unroll the bandage around his hand. He has only a few cuts, but they're an angry red sort of color and I'm glad I remembered to clean them out. None of them are very deep at all, in fact, some are only scrapes. I may have overreacted when I bandaged them as heavily as I did. But all I can think of is how he got them, how he was lost to his horrifying "memories" and then I feel the tears begin. I dab at his hand with a cotton ball and some antiseptic, willing my salty tears to not fall into his open wounds. I sniffle as lightly as I can. I don't want Peeta to know all it takes is a few scratches, and not even my own, to make me cry.
I make sure I barely touch Peeta. I don't mean to be rough; I'm just so used to the burning of the antiseptic that I forget it really does hurt. He pulls his hand away.
"What? I tried to be gentle!" My voice cracks, giving away my hidden tears.
"Katniss are you crying?"
I clear my throat. "No." My voice comes out way too deep, almost making me sound like a man.
"You've never been a good liar," Peeta says, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry. I'm fine. Give me back your hand." Obediently, he places his hand back into my palm and I continue my work. "I don't like seeing you hurt," I whisper, still swiping away. "It brings back memories."
I feel him shake. "I don't like seeing you cry. It brings back memories." Doing my best to hold back the tears that his words bring, I look right into his eyes and say, "I promise to do my best to not cry." I stick out my hand and he takes it and shakes it. "I promise to do my best to try and not get myself hurt." Still shaking hands, I say, "It's a deal." And then I smile an absurdly large smile. Peeta grins back at me and sweeps me off the counter into his arms. He tosses me on the bed and flops down on the other side; I'm laughing hysterically the entire time. I scoot closer to him and lay my head on his chest.
"This is my favorite place to be you know. Lying here with you, just the two of us. It feels almost perfect," he says, and his arms tighten around me. I trace the lighter cuts on his hand. "Almost perfect," I whisper. "It's always going to be almost perfect isn't it? Almost, but never quite completely."
His lips are against my hair, but I can clearly hear him. "Almost perfect is pretty close to me. I can't tell the difference between almost and completely when I'm with you." I roll over and kiss him on the lips.
Peeta is so good with words, so amazingly talented. He can paint, he can bake, he can act, and he's the only one qualified to save me.
"You're like a superhero, you know that?" This earns me one of his laughs, and I smile.
"A superhero? You think I'm a superhero?" He lightly tickles my ribs and I instantly regret being honest. I swat his hands away. "No, no I don't. Not anymore," I say grumpily, sounding like a child. Peeta rolls over so that I am now underneath him. His hands are on either side of my head. He leans forward and kisses me so fiercely that I'm instantly breathless. Hunger.
His hands wrap around me tightly, pulling me up to him. He seems to have forgotten his injury, but I remember. "Peeta, your hand," I manage to say against his lips.
"I could really care less about that right now Katniss." I unwrap his hands from around me and force them in between us. "I do, because look," we both look down, "It's bleeding." He groans and rolls back over to his side of the bed. "Nurse Katniss likes to appear at the worst times," he grumbles.
"You wont be saying that when I save your hand from gangrene." He just looks at me, skepticism written all over his face. "Besides, it's not like you'll never kiss me again." He grins at that.
"When will you understand the effect you have on people; the effect you have on me? For me to just stop kissing you? Well, its almost like getting hit with a train, or at least what I imagine getting hit with a train would feel like," he says. I shake my head.
"That's silly. Getting hit with a train is permanent and irreparable. Not kissing me? Very very temporary and easily fixed." I rebind his hand and kiss it quickly. "See? I fixed your hand and we're right back where we left off."
Peeta just smiles lightly, his eyes looking troubled. "Peeta? Are you alright?" I'm immediately worried. When Peeta doesn't respond right away, I expect the worst. Is he having a flashback? Am I in danger? I edge myself closer to him.
"Katniss, can I ask you something?"
I let out a breath of relief. His voice is normal enough, but I detect hesitance in his tone. "Of course," I answer, grabbing his hand. I haven't touched him in a couple minutes and his skin not on mine feels slightly unnatural.
"Will you marry me?"
My heart isn't beating. Do I have a heart? Wait. How do I breathe? Is it in and out or out and in? I feel something touch my cheeks. Hands. Those are hands right? Why is the room spinning? I smell cinnamon. Oh, yes. Hands. Those are Peeta's hands holding my face. Suddenly the room is completely still and I take a deep breath. Marry Peeta? How can I marry Peeta? I'm so…well, I'm Katniss Everdeen. I was the girl on fire. I was the Mockingjay. I was not wife material. No, how can I say that? Only yesterday I was thinking about how I knew I would marry Peeta. I never thought he would ask me this soon though. It was only yesterday after that I worked up even the courage to tell him I loved him! I feel his hands still. If it weren't for his hands, I think I may have passed out by now.
His hands hold me steady and still. Cinnamon, flour, paint, and now antiseptic. Antiseptic. Cuts. Nightmares. Horror. His hands hold me still. They make me forget. "Katniss, you don't have to say yes you know." I can hear the sadness in his voice. Did I do that? I didn't mean to. He just took me by surprise. I decide to say the first thing that comes to mind.
"I can't Peeta."
He nods his head, looking away from me. His hands fall to his sides. "I can't marry you, because I would have to break my promise."
He looks back up at me. "What promise?"
"To not cry again. I'm trying really hard here, and this is not helping my resolve whatsoever."
He is very serious when he answers me. "You can kick me if you want to, this way both of our promises will be moot." I laugh, almost in a whisper. It's a breathless sort of laugh.
"No, I don't want to kick you. But I can't guarantee I can hold up my end of the bargain much longer."
He's holding my face again. "Katniss?"
I blink, and the stupid tears fall. I hate tears. They make me feel girly and disgusting. They usually are the predecessor of horrible things. Not every time though. "Yes." He's staring at me. I say it louder. "Yes. I will."
His lips crash against mine and I know, I just know, this is it. This is the best my life can get, and I am absolutely satisfied with that. His hands tangle in my hair and I fall back against our pillows.
"I was wrong. I can definitely tell the difference between almost and completely perfect," he whispers. His lips move to my neck, my throat and back to my neck. His lips are right by ear now. "This is completely perfect."
Author's Note: So, I never intended Absolutely Real to have multiple chapters, but this was spilling around in my brain, and I wanted to get it off my chest. Personally, I think this chapter is sort of a ramble, but I'd love to know what you think. I've considered maybe doing a few more chapters leading up to the birth of the baby Mellarks ;) depending on how this chapter is received. So, let me know your thoughts!