Author's Note: Hi! Here's the next chapter, I hope it isn't overly saccharine or cheesy, if it is let me know. Thank you so incredibly much to everyone who's followed or favorited or reviewed. It's always really nice to check the stats on the story and find that someone left a review for me to read!
Someone asked if there was a divide between the seam and merchant side of town and I would like to first of all say, great question. I never really considered there being one, I always considered this as just a typical small town. While there are definitely prejudices at play and some houses are nicer than others, I don't imagine a definitive divide like there is in the books. That being said, feel free to send me a question and I'll be more than happy to answer it.
Also a quick note; this chapter deals a bit with grief and the loss of close loved ones (specifically parents), so if that hits too close to home you might want to sit out parts of this chapter. Sorry for the rambling intro, but please enjoy!
The remainder of the weekend passes as it usually does, Prim and I lazing around before we have to go back to school and work. It seems like Peeta is never far from my mind. No matter what I'm doing, memories or thoughts of him creep up and more often than not, I find myself smiling like an idiot.
Prim catches me multiple times and looks at me knowingly, reading me like a book once again. As soon as I told her what Peeta had said when he showed up at our door she did her squeal and excited little dance, right before telling me how adorable it all was. For the rest of the weekend, she took any opportunity to tell me how we should do this or that or how lucky I was or something equally characteristic of a little girl that idolizes romantic fairytales.
I must admit that some of her ideas were pretty good, though. She suggested that we have a picnic in the meadow for our first date or I invite him to have dinner at our house. They're both good ideas but the thought of cooking for Peeta after he served me such gourmet fare makes me mortified; I know that nothing I could make would ever come close to the quality of his food. She also suggests that we take a drive in his car down to a hill at the edge of town. That spot is well known for being a popular make out spot and I know very well she knew that when she suggested it. Prim feels the need to play the inappropriately aged, sly little wing-woman. She seems to think I'm incompetent of handling this dating thing on my own and she's probably right.
I think about how we will probably kiss the next time we do something together and the thought both terrifies and excites me. I've never kissed anyone before and I'm worried that I'll make a fool of myself. Peeta hasn't dated much but I'm positive that he's at least kissed someone before, probably having done much more. I worry about my lack of experience but try to calm down, reminding myself that Peeta will be very sweet and gentle and I'm sure he won't think any less of me. Still, I want to be good when the time comes, I want to surprise him and make him feel as incredible as he makes me.
I push those thoughts aside as I get ready, it being the early hours of Monday morning and a workday. I go about my usual routine and head down to the bakery at the usual time, once again excited to see Peeta.
He opens the door for me before I even have time to knock, obviously eagerly anticipating my arrival.
"Katniss! Good morning," He says enthusiastically, one of his big, sincere smiles looking down at me. I enter the bakery and return the sentiment, telling him good morning in return.
He looks so happy and impossibly handsome I can barely stand it. As usual, he's wearing one of his thick sweaters that do me no favors in terms of trying not to think about how solid and muscular he is. His hair is as unruly and downy-looking as ever, complemented by his ruddy cheeks. He's positively beaming, his eyes alight with a joy that I've never seen in this intensity. I was in a pretty good mood already but seeing him so happy elevates it further, leaving me smiling just as wide back at him, staring, unable to get enough of him.
I see that he's made something different for our breakfast this morning; the delectable smells wafting around the small space. I try to see what he's made but find he hasn't plated anything yet, everything either still cooking or covered with a dishtowel.
"I made biscuits and some crispy potatoes, I hope that sounds good." He goes over to the oven and takes out a tray of warm, steaming biscuits, their scent filling the space completely and making my hunger more apparent. He places the tray on the countertop where he has already set out glasses of water and plates and napkins. He goes over to the stovetop and lifts the dishtowel off the cast iron pan, revealing a bed of perfectly browned potato on which he sets on a potholder next to the biscuits.
He makes up a plate for me and smiles, beckoning me to come sit down. I take a place next to him and wait to start eating until he serves himself and sits down. He looks at me fondly, his sincere smile making his eyes crinkle and my heart seems to skip a beat. He's radiant with joy and I can't help but reflect it, looking back at him with what I know is an expression Prim would tease me for.
We share the delicious meal in silence, only pausing to look over at each other occasionally. I catch him staring at me a couple times, and he catches me doing the same. We just blush and look down again, neither of us having the words or courage to speak up.
Once we're both finished, I take the plates to the sink and wash them, Peeta standing next to me, waiting to dry the dishes. There are only two plates and some cutlery so it doesn't take long but a feeling of contentedness washes over me during the act. There's something so pleasantly domestic about the whole thing, me washing the plate that once held his amazing food, him standing next to me, sleeves rolled up and dishtowel in hand.
I have a flash of a vision, an image of the two of us doing this everyday, tomorrow, next week, five years from now. I picture myself standing in Peeta's kitchen, looking out at the carnations and the green lawn. I can almost hear Prim's voice chattering behind us as Peeta listens to hear intently, nodding along and engaging her.
It only lasts for a second but it fills me with such an intense wave of emotion, one I've only experienced before on the night in Peeta's home when I was staring at his exquisite rendering of a dandelion.
I drop the dish abruptly and grip the counter top, the overwhelming emotion subsiding by the time Peeta turns to me, alarmed and concerned. A solitary tear has slipped out of the corner of my eye and he grips my shoulder gently, reaching one hand up to tenderly wipe the tear from my cheekbone.
"Katniss," He whispers, worry evident in his tone. "What's wrong?" He asks gently, as if questioning a child that's just had a nightmare.
"Nothing," I say as I look up at him, smiling, trying to convey that I'm stable besides the fact that this is the second time this has happened in less than a week. "I'm ok, I just had a memory of something really happy and it was really intense for a moment." I tell him something not far from the truth, the only difference being that it was not a memory but rather a hopeful projection.
He gathers me in his arms and hugs me tightly to him, his delicious warmth encompassing me while he tenderly pets my hair.
"Oh, Katniss," He says, an intense sympathetic and understanding cadence filling my ears. "I'm so sorry. I know how that is. I get really sudden memories of my dad sometimes. I know how devastating it is."
I burrow further into him, into this boy that has just shared more of himself with me. Of course he knows what it's like, he was incredibly close with his father. I remember seeing them in town together, his father holding his hand while a chubby little boy laughed jubilantly at some anecdote. While the deep pang of loss is not what I experienced just now, it is something I have experienced before.
Sometimes, out of nowhere, I will remember a moment with my parents, something that I had forgotten had happened or thought was lost to the recesses of time, never to be cherished again. It feels like a quick stab of pain, followed by a dull ache that can last hours. It hurts so acutely to remember something positive and joyful, only to come to the realization that it's over and that it can never be experienced again.
Sometimes I forget that Peeta, someone I used to think was so different from me, has shared such a defining experience. While he did not lose both of his parents at the same time, and one of them is still alive somewhere, in some ways what happened to him is worse. He never felt the warm affection of a mother, never knew what it was like to have two loving parents who were undoubtedly in love with each other. After experiencing the sudden and earth shattering death of his father, his mother abandoned him. It makes my heart ache profoundly to think of Peeta alone, not only mourning the loss of his father but also the grief of never having a mother that truly loved him.
I lost my parents but I always knew their love. I never once doubted that they would have done anything for me. I lost them both at once but I was never alone. I had Prim to worry about, to distract myself with. I never had to mourn the loss of a beloved parent while the other was heartlessly berating me to get back to work.
I try my hardest not to cry at the thought, at the realization, but I fail. I sob into Peeta's chest, his arms tightening around me as he feels me shudder. I'm not crying for myself, or for my parents, or for Prim. I'm crying for the boy that lost his father, that never truly had a mother. I'm crying for the nights he spent alone, nothing but his house and his loneliness surrounding him.
I think that I was so close, that I've been here all along. I was just a couple miles down the road, trying to survive day to day. I hate to think that he was alone and that I could've been here. That we could've had each other.
What if we had never found each other? What if Peeta had never gathered the courage to ask me to work here, what if I hadn't been so desperate that I accepted? Would I have lived my entire life oblivious to this man that was so close, that was so lonely, that secretly respected me, that wanted to know me? That thought somehow hurts worse than all the others.
He holds me so close to him that I can feel his heart beating through his chest. He makes small hushing sounds and gentle rocking motions in an attempt to quiet my sobs. They subside slowly, but my realization and the profound sense of hollowness I feel at the thought I would've lived my life oblivious to him stays with me.
I back up to look at him, no doubt looking like a particularly haggard possum but not caring. I look at his face, creased with concern and sympathy and I don't know what to do, have no clue as to how to express how deeply I feel for him.
I reach up on the tips of my toes so my face reaches his, meanwhile holding on to his arms for balance. I close my eyes and place the gentlest kiss on his forehead. I step back down and let go of him slowly. He looks back at me with a mixture of pure wonder and bewilderment, not sure what to make of my sudden display of emotion and tenderness.
I don't have time to feel embarrassed or doubtful of myself, because Peeta smiles a small, concerned smile and I find myself unable to look away from his eyes that are so expressive.
"I'm ok," I say as I look at him, attempting to dissolve his confusion. "I'm sorry I've been all over the place lately, I'm usually not like this. Thank you for holding me and comforting me, I know that you know exactly what it's like to miss a parent. I know our situations are different but I want you to know that I'm here, ok? I want you to know that you can always talk to me if you feel sad or lonely. I'm here for you." I let the words flow out of me, the sentiment borne out of the overwhelming need for him to understand that he can come to me. I can't bear the thought of him alone in his home, upset and lonely, while Prim and I are merely across town.
He looks at me with that same look he had the other night, like I put the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky each day. He's misty eyed, apparently touched by my support.
"Katniss," He whispers shakily as he blinks rapidly, trying to hold the tears back. I watch his eyelashes flutter open and closed and wonder how they don't get tangled, how something as simple as eyelashes could hold my fascination so intensely.
"Katniss, thank you. I can't tell you how much just being your friend has helped me. I am always here, too. I know you can, but you don't have to do everything by yourself."
His simple reply gets to me, makes me understand that all my feelings of concern are reciprocated. He understands me. Despite all my efforts to block people out, he has seen right through me. He respects me for what I am but wants to be here, wants to support me exactly how I want to support him. I don't think there are any words for what passes between us after that exchange. It's as though something clicks into place. As though another piece of ourselves has been revealed to the other, and we acknowledge it and we accept it. And we want to make it better.
We let go of each other eventually and move apart, setting about the day's tasks. The rest of the morning goes by without incident, both of us working beside each other amicably but quietly. Occasionally, a touch will pass between us. Sometimes it's a touch on the shoulder in passing and others it's a gentle brushing of the fingertips. Each time we share a glance and a smile, going back to our work with a renewed sense of joy and support. We part ways when it's time for me to go home with a goodbye and a gentle touch from Peeta on the small of my back as I leave. I go home and go about my chores and tending to Prim, but Peeta is never far from my mind.
The rest of the week also passes in relative peace and normalcy, no grand emotional epiphanies or nervous inquiries. That is until Friday, around the time I usually go home. Peeta hesitates when he dismisses me to leave, wanting to say something but unable to get it out. Sensing that this is a similar situation to when he asked me to dinner before, I make an effort to ease his nerves.
"Peeta," I say as I make my way towards him and the door. "Do you want to do something this weekend? We could do whatever we like and Prim could go play at a friend's house." I rush out on a burst of confidence, not wanting to be the first to ask but recognizing that it is obviously what he wanted to say.
He smiles at me gratefully, recognizing that I noticed his discomfort and did my best to spare him any anxiety. He's still nervous, but relieved at not having to pose the question of asking me out. I am curious if he would've used the word "date", though.
"I would love to Katniss, that sounds perfect." He looks at me with anxiety but also excitement and I can tell he's winding himself up to say something else.
"Is there anything in particular you want to do?" He asks and I must admit that I've thought about this quite a bit, mulling over different ideas and scenarios in my mind. The entire week Prim has been nagging me about asking Peeta to do something, but I knew he was probably waiting for Friday to bring it up and I didn't want to rush him. Prim gave me all kinds of ideas of things we could do, some serious and some silly, and I thought about all of them. I decided ultimately though that Peeta would come up with and execute something far better than either my sister or I could. I didn't want to be responsible for ruining a perfectly good day, which I know would happen if I were planning it. Peeta is thoughtful and sentimental; I know he'd be perfect at deciding what we should do.
"No, not at all," I say in a light-hearted tone, smiling, hoping I'm not making him feel like there's any pressure. While I do think he'd be much better at planning something than I would, I don't have any expectations. I just want to spend time with him. "How about you pick me up on Saturday and we can do whatever you want to, I'm sure It'll be perfect."
He visibly stiffens and I can tell he's worried about letting me down or not planning some incredibly romantic, fairytale-esque adventure. I feel the need to reassure him and make him understand that I couldn't care less what we do, as long as we get to spend some time together.
"Don't worry about planning anything fancy. Anything we do will be perfect, ok? I just want to spend some time with you." He relaxes at that and smiles at me, that same look of wonder and adoration filling his eyes.
"Ok, that sounds good. I can't wait. I'll pick you up at noon on Saturday?" He looks to me to confirm and I nod, pleased that his nerves seemed to have eased a bit. He smiles again, big and bright, leaving me no choice but to adopt the same goofy expression.
I make my way to the threshold and he follows me, holding the door open as I step outside. I turn around before I go to give him our customary parting message and to absorb the image of him one last time.
"Goodbye, Peeta," I say, unable to stop myself from sounding wistful and silly. I can't say I mind much, even though I would be mortified if I looked this way in the presence of anybody else.
"Goodbye, Katniss," He says as he gives me a little wave. I turn to leave and walk down to the main road, looking back before I reach it. He's still standing in the doorway, watching me go with the same smile on his face. He seems flustered to be caught staring and closes the door while looking down at his feet, affording me a view of his curly hair. I see the curtain twitch out of the corner of my eye before I turn away and I smile once more, my cheeks starting to hurt.
I make my way back home, finding myself daydreaming about Saturday. I've never been one to daydream before but I realize that it's not so bad to let myself go every once and a while. One by one, I'm starting to realize that I don't have to hold on to all these pre-conceived notions about myself. That I don't need to let my fears and obsessions with appearing strong and collected rule my life. And it feels pretty good.