Okay, THIS ONE is the chapter you learn why Katniss is acting how she's acting. Sorry about the confusion. Love you all! Just to let you know it's in Peeta's POV. Again. Still. It's awful long, but I refuse to do to you again what I did to you last chapter. So it's going to be long, longer than any other chapter I've ever written. Ever. Deal with it.
Oh, and teensy, mild language.
oOo
Screaming woke me at eight o'clock in the morning. Through the blackness of the night, I managed to find the tiny cord to the lamp, and upon switching it on, I saw Katniss there next to me. She was tangled up to the waist in blankets, and had a pillow pressed into her face. But past the pillow, I could see the sheen of sweat on the back of her neck, wetting the edge of her hairline. She was breathing heavily, panicked cries leaked through the pillow, escaping being muffled.
It was instinctive reaching over and pulling her into my chest, managing to loosen the cushion away from her. Now that she didn't have the pillow to scream into, she resisted being pressed into my chest. Instead, she sat up and clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Tears streamed around the obstacles of her fingers.
I sat up in front of her as well, with legs tucked beneath me, and cupped her face in my hands. I continuously smoothed back her hair that way, and after she screams withered down to just sobs, I smoothed my hands against the skin of her neck, her shoulders, down her back. Thankfully, she didn't resist me doing that. Slowly, Katniss was able to lower her hands. When her arms fell limp at her sides, she looked down at my hands as if she hadn't noticed they were around her.
I didn't take them away. "Are you alright?" I asked honestly, leaning my face in a little closer to hers, feeling a worry line crease my forehead.
She opened her mouth, perhaps to say yes, but a sob interrupted her words. It was time to be truthful. "No, Peeta, I'm not." Thankfully, then she decided to throw her arms around me and bury her face in my chest.
I was startled into stumbling backwards from my folded legs, and they sprawled in front of me. Katniss refused to budge her position, only pressing closer to me, either oblivious or not caring that my legs stretched on either side of her curled body. She normally didn't care about that kind of stuff, I've noticed.
I held for God knows how long. All I know was that with every stroke to her cheek or neck, her shivers and sobs grew lesser, until they were altogether gone. She took a deep breath and propped herself up on her elbows, looking at me.
"I'm gross, all covered in sweat. Sorry." Katniss mumbled that last word, and began to get up, but I kept her there for just a brief moment more.
"I just want you to know," I put my lips right next to her ear, fingers carefully curled around her upper arms. "that I'm never going to be angry at you. Even if you're upset at me." I drew away again, and smiled at her genuinely.
Katniss looked ashamed. "I-I'm sorry. About last night." She looked thoughtful, then even guiltier. "And the night before, I suppose. I don't hate you."
"I know that." I leaned my forehead on hers.
"I was just feeling weird. I still do, sort of. I'll try not to scream at you. Again." She spared a tiny, sad smile, and then got up off me.
I watched her as she slipped through the bathroom door after grabbing clothes, feeling as though a small weight had been lifted from my heart, if only miniscule. She's going to be okay. Probably. In fact, I was feeling okay enough to let myself not get up yet. There's no hurry to get down to the kitchen to make breakfast, or in fact do anything other than lay here waiting for her. I had been trying to shove the guilty feeling of being so iffy about the days my bakery is open, but who cares.
She came into the room some half-hour later, in a pair of loose tan trousers and a tank-top. Honestly, I don't think I've seen her in one of those in quite some time, mostly because she's been uncaring about her choice of attire. Her black hair was already combed out and laying in sleek wet strips down her shoulders past the small of her back. She seemed alert and fine, if not anxious.
Katniss scooted onto the bed next to me and—after tucking her knees to her chest—accepted my arm around her. But on noting the switch in her mood, I decided to inquire. I tilted my head down near hers. "How are you feeling today?"
She cocked her head, probably thinking the best way to answer. Then her eyes flicked up to meet mine. "Every minute that passes, I feel better."
That was an odd answer. I frowned, but said nothing. In the time I've been with Katniss, I've learned to never question existing sanity. So instead of saying anything, I kept my silence and squeezed her a little closer. My arm was curled around her shoulders, my fingers just barely brushing the thin white strap of her tank-top. She seemed so small in my arms, so delicate. I loved being with Katniss, as I've said countless other times. She does to me what no one else can… If that makes any sense.
Several different ways this day could go streaked through my mind, some good, some not. We couldn't just stay like this in bed all day. Maybe we could go to the bakery, and I could amuse her with letting her bake something. That was always a laugh. Fighting a smile at the thought, I peered down at her. "Do you want to go to town today?"
But strangely enough, as soon as I said those words, Katniss' face fell. She bit her lower lip, contemplating.
"Not if you don't want to." I bent down to kiss her forehead.
"No, no, it's fine." She put on her brave face and straightened up. Her eyes flicked over to me and a small smile touched her lips. Small, but nonetheless there. "You might need to put on some clothes first."
Clothes are overrated I wanted to say. I didn't. Instead, I smiled back and stood up to change. A memory from yesterday cropped up in my head and I was immediately blessed with the thought of Katniss' reaction to me changing in front of her. She looked shocked and worried, as if it was a complete scandal I undressed in front of her. Despite her objections, she was quite innocent, even considering the things she has done. It made me laugh, remembering the startled, pink expression, and I decided to not change in the room. I spared a glance at her before ducking into the bathroom, and saw she looked a bit relieved. And another look? Disappointment? Nah, it couldn't be.
I smiled to myself.
After pulling on a fresh pair of clothes and tossing the pajama bottoms into the laundry hamper, I went back out. Katniss was standing in front of the hanging mirror next to the closet, doing her hair back into a braid. I snuck up behind her and put my hands over hers, temporarily pausing her plaiting.
"You should put it back into two braids." I suggested, winding my fingers through the thick black hair, now only a tad damp, making it unravel.
"Nah." Katniss wrinkled her bunny nose, which was adorable. "I wore it like that when I was seven."
"Like when I first saw you." I said quietly. I saw Katniss glance at my reflection in the mirror, eyes shining with something I didn't recognize. The memory came back…the red plaid dress…the deep voice of my father…the Valley Song…
Katniss saw the memories in my eyes as if they were her own. She waited a few seconds before answering. "Okay." Her lips formed a tiny smile, again, and she reached back up to part her hair down the middle for braiding it.
When she finished, it was like twelve years ago all over again. Her lovely oval face shining olive, framed by the feathers of black reaching down past the waistband of her trousers. She was different, of course, older. Tougher. But I could still see the girl I watched from afar so long ago, back when I was six, or something like that. Sighing slightly, I was tugged gently from my reverie. Katniss looked uncomfortable, as she usually did under my staring gaze.
"Excellent." I smiled at her, seeing the uneasiness melt like ice under the summer sun. "You look amazing." There wasn't an ounce of untruth in those words.
She looked up at me through her eyelashes and looked grateful. "Thanks."
And taking her hand gently in mine, I led her down the stairs and out the door.
Our walk into town was slow, and I was careful to steer clear of anything that'd upset Katniss again. She kept tight hold of my hand, weary grey eyes flicking around the buildings. We both knew we weren't really headed anywhere in particular. Of course, the bakery was probably going to be our destination eventually, but for now we just wandered. At one point, just for fun, I brought her around the front of metalsmith's building. From inside, I could see the old man look up and, upon recognizing me, smiled. I smiled back, squeezing the small hand around mine.
Katniss looked up and her gaze followed mine into the blacksmith's shop, but she didn't make the connection. She just blinked at the old man and turned back to me, with eyebrows raised.
As we walked past, I let my thumb feel the thin metal band on her left hand's ring finger. I bent down closer to her and said quietly, "That's where I got your ring made."
Katniss, understanding, lifted our hands up to once again examine the ring. It sat, small and delicate on her finger equally delicate. It balanced it out and just went so perfectly with her entire…self. Katniss twisted it with her thumbs and gazed at the writing on the opposite side of the stone.
"'Always'…" She murmured, and then I saw the moment of wonder when she looked up at me. "Perfect." Another ghost of a smile touched her lips. Just then, she looked so beautiful and innocent in her tank-top and pigtails and big gray eyes.
I let go of Katniss' hand to put it around her shoulder and kiss her on the cheek. "Like you."
"I'm not perfect." She dropped her gaze, almost as if ashamed.
"You are to me."
Katniss didn't say anything to that, which was probably best. She left it suspended in the air to sink in. But there was no denying the sparkle in her eyes when I said it.
We walked, and eventually I decided to bring up the topic of what we were doing in town. I peeked down at her and disrupted her vague, preoccupied look.
"Do you want to go to the bakery?" I asked.
She blinked and shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. Her grey eyes met mine. "Fine." It wasn't rude when she spoke. Just a word.
If we were going to the bakery, our path would be behind us, so using the arm I had around her shoulders, I steered her back in the other direction. People didn't stare near as much as we strolled past on the cobblestones. Katniss didn't seem to mind our closeness, pressed together with my arm. She didn't seem to mind anything between us actually, now that I think of it. Except undressing in front of her. The memory made my face split into a grin. A grin that Katniss caught.
"What?" Her eyebrow raised a miniscule degree, but she had on her same, expressionless face.
I shook my head, still fighting off that smile. "Just remembering yesterday. The look on your face when I changed in front of you."
Katniss flushed, and looked away, obviously embarrassed. "Oh," was all she said.
"You'd think you would have acted a little less shell-shocked after what you allowed to happen between us."
She scowled, just like the Katniss I remembered. "You surprised me. And it was as much you as it was me, you know."
This was amusing me, making the silent walk to the bakery a little more entertaining. "I've wanted to do it for a while, but it was you stopping me. That was the only thing, so don't say I had a say in what happened. My mind was already made up. You just let me—"
"Can we stop talking about this?" Katniss shot me a look, still scowling. "We're in public."
Of course, I was still grinning when I looked away. She knew I'd won, but she was right. Talking about our sex life in public wasn't considered polite. But there was no denying that when I did look away, I could see the minute smile stretch across her face.
We walked on for another few minutes until the bakery was standing in front of us, the same as ever, if not a bit dejected. But I did not feel any sympathy for it. It was a building.
My arm slid from Katniss' shoulder to grip her hand, and went around the back to fish the spare key out of its hiding spot. I'd left my real one in the pocket of another pair of jeans back home. Sighing slightly, I slid the key into the lock and opened the back door. It groaned in protest, and Katniss and I walked in.
The lights were off, so I flicked them on and went into the front entrance to unlock the door and turn the open sign around. This old thing was my oldest friend, the only place I could get myself lost in (except for, of course, back in my room with Katniss, but that's a different story). Sure, I was imprisoned in it by my lovely mother for pretty much all of my life, but baking was something I genuinely enjoyed. Like painting. Simple things in life that made it worth living. But neither of those hobbies compared to just sitting in the grass, holding Katniss' hand. She was better than everything…
I shook my head as I rewrote the prices on staler bits of pastries and bread. I shouldn't let my head wander so much. It couldn't be that healthy.
Katniss had apparently drifted off back into the kitchen, so as soon as I flipped the 'open' sign over, I headed back there. And sure enough, she was perched on a chair, feet tucked under her, nibbling on some cheese buns I'd left on the counter a few days ago. When I saw her eating it, I let out a laugh and tied an apron on.
"I can make new ones, you know." After washing my hands, I got a pan and some ingredients out from the cupboards. "Those can't be too delicious, being days old."
Katniss looked at the food in her hands, blinked, then shrugged. "They're not bad. I'm not really, hungry, though. Just…"
"Bored?" I suggested.
"Elsewhere." She set the bread back down on the table and crossed her arms over her torso. "I'm not feeling that good, too."
"Stomach?" I frowned, not liking her being in any pain whatsoever. Somewhere far back in my head, a possibility popped up, but I shoved it down. It was impossible that the symptoms of pregnancy would show up this early. Quite impossible, really. Though, it was sad swallowing down the feeling of excitement that had only lasting a millisecond.
"Yeah." Katniss nodded. "But it's odd. I'm sure I'll be fine." She attempted a teensy smile and stood up, drifting over to where I was standing, squishing my hands around the pasty dough of her soon-to-be fresh cheese buns. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a tiny tinkling sound from the front of the shop shut it again.
I frowned again. A costumer. I glanced over at Katniss. "Do you think you could…?"
"I'll go see what they want." She nodded, accepting her job. And before anything else was said, she disappeared through the door.
I sorted the dough out into globs, which I put close-together in a pan. On top went thickly-shredded cheddar cheese. As I worked I hummed a quiet tune to myself.
Katniss appeared in the doorway again, and flicked one of her braids out of the way. "She wants a dozen chocolate cookies." A strange look was on her face, but not necessarily bad.
I nodded and, wiping some flour off on my apron, took out a paper bag from the shelf. There were trays of cookies in the forever-on warming oven, and I took thirteen of those out and shoved them into a bag. Chocolate was sparse in my baking, making any chocolate item expensive, but chocolate cookies… Barely anyone had the money for those nowadays. But that's okay. Money was money, and there was nothing holding me back from walking back into the front room. I was greeted by a young lady.
She looked exhausted, but kind nevertheless. With coppery curls and brilliant grass-green eyes, she was completely familiar. I smiled as I handed her the bag. "Hello! You're…Ivy's Mother, am I right?"
The woman nodded and smiled at me and Katniss. "I am. I don't normally buy things this…spendy," She looked slightly guilty. "But it's Ivy's birthday today. I wanted a cake for her, but…" The lady sighed, and smiled again. "How much is the total?" She changed the topic back to money.
Katniss hung by the wall, silent.
"Nothing." I waved my hand, dismissing the cost. "Tell her happy birthday from us."
The lady glanced at Katniss, then me, and smiled again, obviously relieved. "Thank you. Really. And honestly, Ivy hasn't shut up since Tuesday. It's the most I've heard her talk. Ever, really."
From the corner of my eye, I caught Katniss' small smile, then her face fell and she looked sad. I reached out and took her hand, but still looking at the woman. I smiled at her. "Where is she now?"
"With her grandparents." She rolled the top of the cookie bag closed with both hands, and gripped it as if it was precious.
I wondered where the father was worked in, but I had the sneaking suspicion he was out of the picture, so I didn't ask. Instead, I nodded again. "Well, tell her happy birthday, and enjoy the cookies."
"Thank you, again." The lady gave me a grateful look, and walked out, but not before she caught my sad look. Every child should have a father. And when—or if—I become one, I'll be the best father ever… Like my own. And Katniss would be the best mother…
I shook my head again. No time for thoughts like that. There was work to be done. So with Katniss as my (sort of) assistant, I worked for a couple of hours, refilling the glass display cases with fresh sweets, and so on. Katniss just drifted around, staying behind the counter as I baked, and she refused every time I offered to let her help. Her refusal always came with a tiny, apologetic smile, and I knew she was thinking what I was thinking. That's okay. We all have our talents.
It was around three-thirty in the afternoon, and I had flour caked thoroughly under my fingernails and all over the apron I was wearing. Even though we'd been there for almost six hours, Katniss never complained. She watched intently, but I noticed a slight change in her expression over the hours. It turned from vacant to a grimace. At four I slammed shut the oven and wiped my hands off on my apron.
"Is everything okay, Katniss?"
She grimaced even further and shrugged, but only barely visible. "I…don't know. I feel really weird, and…my stomach kind of feels…" Katniss swallowed and shrugged a second time. "Never mind."
Though she spoke with her usual ineloquence, there was something in her words. Fright, maybe? I couldn't tell, but something wasn't right about this. With a sympathetic frown, I reached down to put my hand on the back of her neck. "Do you want to go home?"
Katniss bit her lower lip, and after only a few seconds of considering, she nodded. "I do. But I can go without you if you still want to work." She stood up from the lone wooden chair in the corner. "Not a chance." I wanted to smile at this, but I didn't. I was worried for Katniss.
I peeled my flour-caked apron off and hung it back on its hook with the rest of the aprons. The entire place smelled of fresh bread, now, and the cheese buns I'd baked were sitting in a cloth sack on one of the counters. Katniss had only eaten one, which surprised me. Sighing in worry, I washed off the residue of random bits of dough from my hands, and then wrapped the other around the top of the sack. After that, I only had to flip the open sign and lock the doors before heading back out. I'd wanted to put my arm around Katniss again, but she wouldn't allow it. Instead, her arms twisted themselves around her own body, and she shivered. But I don't think it was because of the weather.
We got home and she went upstairs. Didn't even wait up. With a frown, I set the sack of buns on the kitchen table and followed. This was driving me insane, what she was doing. Fine one second, upset the next. Maybe she had just caught the flue. Yes, that had to be it.
Katniss was sitting there on the bed, both legs and arms crossed. She wasn't crying, though. Her face was as vacant as ever, and when she heard me come in, she glanced up at me, though she didn't say anything.
I sat down next to her and did my best not to touch her in any way, knowing she would just brush me off again. "So…" I chewed on the inside of my cheek, feeling anxious. "Is anything wrong?"
Katniss raised an eyebrow at me with a 'duh' look on.
"Let me rephrase that; is there anything I could do to help you?"
This time, she considered with an obvious lump in her throat. "I…" But a sudden twitch jolted her head and she pressed her palms to her temples. "Ugh, who am I kidding? No, I am not alright, but I don't know what you could do. It keeps coming up in my head, I just—" Katniss inhaled sharply, then suddenly veered away from whatever she meant that comes up in her head. "Every second that I'm not actually doing something, it gets worse. I need a distraction from this…this pain."
I reached up to fiddle with the end of one of her braids, but she flinched away. "Okay, but another question; why won't you let me touch you?"
She swallowed visibly and avoided my gaze, dropping hers in almost what seemed like humiliation. "I'm…afraid of letting you down." But when she looked back up at me, I could see that shine in her eyes that told me that anything deeper than that was forbidden to be asked about.
"You won't let me down." I assured her, feeling only slightly robbed of moments I could have been spending with her, but have been prevented by that excuse. "You never have. But now that you know you won't let me down, can I touch you now?"
Katniss seemed a tad annoyed at this and made a face. But when she spoke, her voice was not as sure and strong as her expression. On the contrary, it was barely a whisper and kept braking. "How do you know I won't? Because I will. I know I will…" She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again.
"But I can't stand watching you live in pain." I said, nearly begging. "You won't tell me what's wrong, and I've accepted that, but in the very least, let me help you through this by being there."
What little strength and self-control was sapped away when I said that. Tears did not threaten to fall, however. I just sat there, eyes locked with Katniss'.
Her eyebrows knit in a pitiful puppy look at my words, and her mouth opened to say something, but only a small puff of air came out. So instead of saying the words, Katniss just nodded.
I was careful, hesitant, putting my arms around her waist and holding her to me. I felt her rest her forehead on my collarbone, breathing heavily. I'm not sure if it was in attempt not to cry, or other reasons.
Her hands made shaky fists around the material of my shirt, not in lust or anything. But she kept her face buried in my collarbone. I heard her voice, muffled, from my chest, wet with silent tears that I hadn't noticed. "Hold me tighter."
Part of me wanted to laugh. She didn't want me to hold her, now she wanted me to hold her tighter. But I didn't laugh. Instead, I did as I was told and locked my arms around her. Since we were both sitting next to each other, it was an awkward position so I propped one knee under myself. Katniss' hands were still shaking as she let go of my shirt only to rub her eyes. And there was a split-second when she pulled away, our eyes met. Hers were glistening with tears, red around the rims. I leaned down to kiss her forehead, but missed. Because Katniss pulled her head up and pressed her lips to mine.
They tasted of salt and fear, but behind that I could taste her, the way she's always tasted. It was indescribably sweet.
I felt a small sigh bubble up from my throat. "How come I can never understand you?" I let go for a second to ask her that, but it didn't work, ending up slurring the words.
Just when I had thought Katniss was ignoring that, she broke away, heart still pounding in my own chest. But I'd thought she'd answer me. She didn't. And I'd thought she'd look happier. She didn't. A horrid, guilty look painted her face theatrically like a clowns, except real. She was horrified about something, but before I got the chance to ask her, she shoved away from me and sat, huddled, at the other end of the bed. Her hands covered her face in horror. I knew, somehow, that she didn't want me comforting her. And that was okay. Because five seconds later, I heard her voice muffled by her hands.
"Remember what I said about distractions?" She whispered through her fingers, and Katniss bent her head up to look at me.
Something about the sickened expression on her face froze me from moving or speaking at all. I don't get it…
"I don't want to become that kind of person, Peeta," Tears slipped from her shining grey eyes and trickled in a steady line down her cheek. "who depends on physical distractions for emotional pain. I can't…"
Is that what it was? She didn't kiss me for the sake of kissing me, but for a distraction? I understood her pain, but part of me deep inside was hurt by this. I couldn't possibly be…merely a distraction, could I? Surely not…
Katniss was clutching her head in both hands now, face contorted and red. Her breath was coming out in ragged pants. But suddenly, she stood up off the bed in fury. "Damn it…" She growled, and stomped into the bathroom.
I was shocked. Katniss never cursed.
She didn't close the door behind her, but it swung anyways in a halfhearted attempt. It was open enough for me to hear the sink running, and splashes. When I got the nerve to stand up and walk in, I saw her leaning on her elbows on the edges of the sink, face dripping with cold water. She heard me come in and she glanced up, but didn't say anything. And neither did I when I reached past her to grab a towel from the rack, which I offered to her. Katniss accepted it and pressed it to her face, getting rid of most of the water. When she was finished, the towel was tossed onto the floor carelessly. When nothing still was said, I took her hand and tugged her back into the room.
Katniss was fine with me pulling her onto the bed with me. She was fine with curling into my chest and letting me wrap my arms around her waist. She was fine with me tucking the blankets up to her chest. She was fine with crying in front of me. She was fine with all that, but only let me do the first. Once I led her onto the bed, she just sat there letting the tears dry from her face. Once again, it was expressionless
I was on the brink of just breaking down and pleading to tell her what was going on in her mind, why she was acting like this. Ignoring her flinch, I put my arm around her waist. "Would it be better if I left you alone? Went along with my own stuff? Stopped nagging you?"
And to my extreme surprise, Katniss' eyes widened twice their size and shank against me. "Don't leave me." She whispered, but her voice was more of a squeak.
"Fat chance." I then put my other arm around her and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "It's going to take a lot more than a few days of hardships to make me leave you."
Another ghost of a smile traced her face. "I'll be right back." Like water through cupped fingers, she slid out from my arms and dragged herself into the bathroom.
I felt myself staring after her. I want to understand her. I want to know what's going on in that head of hers, what's making her so upset one minute, totally expressionless the next, better after that, then back to crying again. I wanted to know what was the matter, why she was acting like this, avoiding my arms, but kissing me when she thought I was asleep. What was wrong?
I was so wound up in my thoughts, I didn't even notice for a good ten minutes that no noises were coming from the bathroom. No flushing, no spray of the water from the sink. No nothing. I only realized when I was pulled out of my reverie at eleven minutes after she left. What was the matter now? There wasn't any window to jump from, but if that wasn't it, what was?
KATNISS' POV
I was frozen. Every inch of me was covered with, and simply was ice. My heart was beating slow and heavy in my chest, my eyes locked into a permanently wide expression. I couldn't understand, I couldn't comprehend what just happened. It wasn't even…I couldn't… A million possibilities stemmed from my mind, each equally horrifying.
I was sitting, shivering, in the bathtub. It had been a few minutes since I had left Peeta sitting on our bed, feeling a tiny bit better. He hasn't noticed I was gone? Or how I hadn't even turned on the tap to wash my hands? I didn't really care right then. My brain was flowing too thick to understand anything except those four words… They kept repeating over and over again, each time getting worse
"Katniss?" There he was. Peeta knocked on the door, twice. "Are you alright in there?"
No, Peeta, I'm not… I wanted to say, to cry. I wanted to reach over and pull him closer to be able to sob into his chest. But I've ran my tear-ducts dry to the point of dehydration. I couldn't cry even if I wanted to. No, it was just dry terror. My throat worked, but no sound came out to answer.
"Katniss?" Peeta asked again. "Are you even in there?"
Again, I was unable to answer. I just tightened my arms around my knees, which were tucked to my chest.
"If you don't say anything, I'm coming in there."
Neither of us cared whether or not we walked into each other while in the bathroom, but it double-didn't matter because I wasn't even on the toilet. I was sitting in the bathtub, still fully dressed, too shell-shocked to do anything but to stare at the opposite wall.
And of course, Peeta abided to his word and waltzed inside. For a split second, his eyes flicked around the room, but then they fell on me. At first his expression was confusion; why is she in the bathtub? Then realization; Oh crap, not the BATHTUBS again. And finally, his expression landed on terror, for me I was certain of. Hesitantly, he crossed the room and went to sit—not on the floor in front of the bathtub—in the bathtub with me. Before, I would have marveled at that, but now I just felt my eyes widen and guilt pounded my chest like a white-hot wrecking ball.
I saw him reach out to me, gentle artist fingers brush my shoulder but I shrank away. "It's my fault…" I found myself whimpering, clutching my arms closer to myself. Grief was clenched on my heart, and wouldn't let go. "I disappointed you, I'm sorry, Peeta. I'm so sorry…"
Instead of looking all sweet and sympathetic, Peeta surprised me by darkening his facial expression. His eyebrows met in a harsh line, and he stared at me. "Katniss Everdeen, I'm not sitting in a bathtub fully-clothed for no reason. You said you'd learn and tell me what was up today. Now tell me."
He wasn't asking. He wasn't pleading. He was telling me. He was demanding.
I tried taking a breath, but no air would whoosh into my lungs. They remained as shriveled as my heart felt. It wasn't time for lies, for skirting around the truth. I had told him I'd tell him once I was sure. I'm sure now. When I spoke, it was a lame attempt. My voice kept dipping in and out of audibility, cracking several times. . "Peeta, I-I'm not… I'm not…" But I couldn't say it. The words wouldn't come out.
Tiny tears pricked my eyes, but they weren't very wet or big.
Now I seemed to have caught Peeta's interest. Eyebrows creased, he reached out a hand and just simply put it over my own. "Not what?"
Then it just exploded out of me. I got up, practically tripped over the edge of the bathroom and fell to my knees on the tile floor in front of the floor. "I'm not pregnant, Peeta, pregnant. I've…" Tears were free-falling from my eyes, now, which were closed tight. I was sobbing, and even my legs gave way and I fell onto all fours. "I've let you down. I'm so sorry…"
Peeta's response wasn't something I had expected. At first, his forehead creased in confusion, and then his eyes widened a fraction as well. Then he put his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands.
That made me crack. I reached out to him over the ceramic wall of the bathtub, but didn't touch him. I let out a choked sob. "I'm sorry, Peeta, I'm sorry. It's my fault. Don't cry." The last two words were like fire in the back of my throat. "Don't be mad, I'm sorry…"
He lifted his head back up and I noticed his face was dry, thank goodness. He looked at me with a shocked expression. "I'm not mad, Katniss. You idiot." Peeta also got out of the tub and sat with me on the bathroom floor. But he didn't reach out. "That's what you've been keeping from me… You're such an idiot."
My mouth fell partly open in confusion. "But, Peeta—"
"Don't keep these things to yourself." He put his head in his hands again. "I was really afraid for you. Don't ever, ever scare me like that again."
"But don't you understand?" I asked, stunned and tossing aside what he said. "I'm not pregnant. I'm not able to have children." Saying those words made my throat blaze with another tongue of pain, and I coughed, tears blurring my vision. "I'm not…"
"That's not true." His voice was harsh, harsher than I've barely ever heard it. "This may not mean anything. We have no proof that either of us aren't able."
"I'm the proof." I said, already knowing the truth. I was crying, but the only evidence of it was the way my words broke and the wetness on my face. Because I already knew. "I am the proof, Peeta." I repeated. "This is the second time it's happened. The first time we weren't thinking of it, of anything. We didn't actually stop and think. But this time…" My voice broke and I stared at Peeta. "Don't say you didn't think what we did would give us children."
This whole conversation wasn't awkward, as it would have been originally. My face wasn't even red. Or at least, I didn't think it was.
Peeta was silent for a minute, not looking at me. Then he tilted his face back up, and I saw it was stricken wither realization and grief. "I did," he said. "The first time was…was nothing. But you're right." Peeta shook his head slightly to himself and put his head back in his hands. He sighed.
When he agreed with me, I snapped. Something bubbled from my throat and I coughed again, standing up to violently, I hit my knee on the edge of the bathtub. Tears were pouring out of the corners of my eyes and I stumbled into the room, only vaguely aware of Peeta following.
I'm not able my mind repeated. I'm not able, I'm not able… I paced around the room blindly, crying, my head in my hands. The words kept repeating in my head, and soon enough they came crumbling out my mouth in a wave of fresh sobs. "I'm not able…"
Peeta just stood there in the entrance of the bathroom, and I couldn't tell, but I think he was crying as well. Shiny tracks of saltwater ran the length of his pale-cream face.
I didn't know what I was doing, but before I could gather myself together, I was staggering out the room and down the stairs. I was still crying, and my hands were shaking so violently they were no use to me whenever I fell. When I felt Peeta's hand try to grip my arm, I just tore away and ran straight for the front door. I yanked it open and lurched onto the porch. And actually, Peeta did manage to grab my arm, but I ripped it from his and shrank backwards.
"You don't get it, Peeta." I cried, walking further backwards. "I can't stay here,"
"Katniss," He said warningly, no longer crying but looking wary and stern. "Come back inside."
"You don't get it." I sobbed, going backwards even further. Tears were falling in a steady river now, and I was exhausted down to the bone. Dusk was falling upon District 12, setting the tone to a light purple. The shadows from trees laid flat on the ground, unperturbed by wind. But even though it was warm out, I shivered. "You don't understand. There are too many memories. I can't stay." I swallowed past the painful lump of coal in my throat. "Gale and Alexis and…and everything. Too many bad things have… I can't…" Blubbing interrupted me for a minute and I had to cover my mouth with my hand for a minute to control myself. "I have to leave."
"Kat—"
"Don't 'Katniss' me." I hissed. "How many times do I have to tell you you'll never get it? I have to leave. I'm not even supposed to be alive." Air raked in and out of my lungs, though it brought me no relief. "You think there's a reason? I can't stay here, I am forbidden to live a normal life. With you."
Those last two words seemed to have hurt Peeta more than anything. His mouth fell open and his eyes creased in sympathy (or horror—I couldn't tell). He shook his head, slowly, as if in disbelief.
"I'm not saying that I don't want to be with you, Peeta." I was able to get past those words without crying. I was all shriveled again, tears staunched by the lack of water in my system. "I'm saying that life doesn't let me. Every time I think I'm going to be happy, something happens and I get torn again. I'm always either crying or completely oblivious to reality, and I don't want to be either of those. It's obvious I'm not allowed to be Katniss Everdeen anymore."
I could see it in his eyes; then who are you going to be?
I didn't answer the unspoken question. "I'm leaving." I said again, and turned my back.
"Katniss," Peeta's voice slit through the night air like a dagger, loud and harsh.
Even if I hadn't heard what he said, the loudness made me spin around. I saw his eyes once again severe. He had one hand gripping the doorframe, the other hanging at his side. I froze, but my brain wanted to leave now, to go and never look back.
"Katniss." Peeta repeated. "This isn't the end of the world. I know there have been hard times, but this isn't the answer,"
I opened my mouth to say something, but he didn't let me speak.
"Where are you going to go? What are you going to do? There may be bad memories here but they are here where you have people that love you and will help you get through it. They will follow you wherever you go; there is no evading your past no matter how traumatic."
His face softened slightly, not harsh now but serious. "I have worked too long and too hard to keep you. I love you and you made a promise to me. You're not running away before things have even begun."
Now Peeta's face wasn't only soft, but pleading; apologetic. "We have our lives ahead of us to finish what we started. We have our entire lives together to work this out. We have our entire lives ahead of us to have children. Don't let this one day get in the way of you and me being happy."
I was frozen, and watched as he swung the door wider and stepped aside.
"Now, Katniss Everdeen, get the hell back in the house or I'm going to have to come outside and get you myself."
I stood there for a moment more, letting his words sink in. They flowed as thick as honey through my ear and into my brain, where they swirled around, trying to find something to connect to. And somewhere in that process, my legs found the ability to move again and I was walked forwards, back up the porch steps, past Peeta, and into the house. I stopped a few feet away from the door, but didn't turn around. My back was hunched and my head was hanging, my fists clenching together over and over again. I felt numb, numb all over.
I felt a few fingers press gently between my shoulder blades.
"Go upstairs, love. I'll be there in a minute." Peeta said softly, and took his hand away.
I had no choice but to obey. My legs started up again and I dragged myself up the flight of steps into the bedroom. I stripped myself of the tank-top and trousers, and slipped a nightdress over my head. Its collar was wider than usual, letting the gown hang loosely on my shoulders. I shrugged it up and crawled into bed.
The clock ticked almost menacingly, and I listened to it until Peeta came back. He wasn't carrying anything, like I'd thought. I watched him as he came over and sat down next to me.
Immediately, his gaze shoved down on my heart, forcing tears to well in my eyes again. But they weren't tears of grief for my crappy day. They were of guilt. "I'm sorry, Peeta." I whispered, praying that he wasn't angry at me.
He wasn't. "Don't," Peeta reached up to touch the tip of his finger under my eye, catching a tear that was preparing to fall. "I understand."
Normally I would have been upset that he did his usual thing; agreeing with me, not being angry for me being a butthead, being sympathetic and sweet when I feel like dying. But I wasn't upset at him. On the contrary, I was glad. Now that the stress from my would-be (and real) dilemma was gone, and I didn't have to be completely afraid of letting Peeta down, I felt a rush of relief. I pressed up against his side and buried my face in his chest.
He didn't expect that. Peeta blinked once, and then accepted my embrace with his own. One of his arms wound around my waist and the other cupped the back of my head. I felt the tips of his fingers dig into the base of my braids.
We held that for a few minutes, and after 'a few minutes' passed, I pulled away, rubbing my eyes. "I'm tired, Peeta."
He unwound his arms from around me and let me slide into the covers. He laid down, too. Peeta took the edge of the bed throw and tucked it up under my chin. "Sleep tight."
I felt a sudden rush of appreciation for him. I let him put his arm around my shoulder and I closed my eyes. "…You too."
Everything fell silent, and it was about ten minutes passed before I fell asleep, dreams of children haunting me until dawn broke.
oOo
That was the single longest chapter I've ever written EVER. That was epic. 7,807 words. Whew. Sorry if it was TOO long. I would have been able to make four chapters out of that… :DD Hope you liked it, and don't forget to review!
xoxo
Soggy