Sorry if this chapter is a bit jumbled and frustrating. I'm trying to explain a few heavier concepts instead of glossing over them and am struggling a bit with how to convey it. Any reviews are appreciated since I don't know if things are coming out clearly or not. I'm trying to write from katniss' perspective which is a little difficult. She's a bit irrational and I think her ideas get jumbled which I am trying to convey, but I don't want YOU GUYS to get confused as well, you know? Thanks for your patience and please let me know if you think I should switch anything up.
I woke up lying in the bed with Peeta holding my hand and fast asleep in the chair next to me. As I began to stir, Peeta bolted awake and jumped to his feet. "Katniss! You're awake! How do you feel? Do you hurt?" He began to shoot out questions as I squeezed my eyes shut, a headache steadily forming. I smiled back at him and nodded, rubbing my temples. "I'm fine, I'm fine," I mumbled. His expression changed to one of concern, "Are you sure? Do you have a headache?" he continued. I paused and he smiled, "Should I just shut up and get the nurse to give you some more medicine?" I smiled back and nodded silently.
The nurse came in and his chipper voice was much worse to listen to than Peeta's. "You've been out almost the whole day! Now you were dehydrated and they had to go some work to set the break, but you'll be okay. They just want you to stay here a day or two before sending you home." With that he quickly stopped talking and began checking the monitors and the IV bags dripping into my bloodstream. Peeta stood by, holding my hand and smiling gently at me. When the nurse left he called out that dinner would be there in half an hour and closed the door, smiling politely in our direction.
Peeta bent down to give me a kiss and softly asked how I felt. The medicine the nurse had put into the drip was beginning to take affect so I gave a drug-induced smile and said I was fine. Peeta let out a small chuckle and stood there, silently massaging my hands to keep them warm. It felt good and I eventually dozed back to sleep.
I awoke a while later to see a plate on a table near me and Peeta reading a book. He looked up at me as I looked at the plate and noticed the half-eaten roll. "It tasted like cardboard. You wouldn't want it anyway. I honestly don't know where it came from," he said as I smiled. "Besides," he continued, "Haymitch, Sadie, and Sae are coming by so they're bringing real food with them." The words made my stomach begin to grumble and Peeta laughed as he heard my noisy stomach.
"So what happened yesterday?" He asked. I relayed the story, nightmares excluded, and let it end when Haymitch found me. He had a concerned look on his face, but brushed a hair out of my forehead when he smiled, "Well, I'm just glad you're okay. I wish I had stayed with you." "What, and have both of us end up here? No thank you. Besides, you would have scared off the meat," I said, both of us getting a smile across our faces. "Who's at the bakery?" I asked, realizing Peeta had been with me since he brought me in. "The boys. They can handle it. Don't worry about it." And I didn't.
An hour or so later Haymitch burst into the room, obviously drunk, with a giggling Sadie and chiding Sae behind him. "Don't be so loud, we're in a hospital!" she said, swatting at him with her free hand. They all had something in their arms; you would have thought we were about to have a feast. Haymitch moved the plate of untouched food and they all placed their bundles on the small table. Sae had roasted meat and vegetables, Haymitch some bread, and Sadie some fruit. I eyed the food ravenously and the old woman laughed, "Well, I won't stop you child." And I took a plate of food, eating it while I sat in the bed. Peeta grabbed a plate and served himself as well, eating while talking with Haymitch and Sae. Sadie simply sat on the other chair and played with some of the random items she found in the room.
As I finished my plate I set it on my lap and Sae took it from me, placing it in a basket she had brought. I let my head rest against the pillow and closed my eyes while listening to Peeta and Haymitch discuss a statue they were placing in the square. I didn't pay much attention, but Sae came to the other side of the bed and began asking how I was. I smiled and answered, despite my encroaching headache, because of all the woman had done for me. Noticing the grimace on my face she called for Haymitch's attention and came up with an excuse to leave. "Wha-? But we just got here?" Haymitch shot out. "We've been here long enough and I'm sure you've woken everyone up on this floor with your volume alone. Let's go," she said, reaching for her basket with one hand and her granddaughter with the other. She gave me a smile as she left and called out for Haymitch.
"I swear, you'd think I was ten and she was my mother," Haymitch began as he walked to where Sae had previously stood. "Well, Sweetheart. Start feeling better." He said as he rubbed my head, tousling my hair. "Haymitch, let's go!" Sae called through the crack in the door. "Damn it, woman! I'm coming!" he yelled as he began to mosey out the room. Peeta and I waved, telling him to come back tomorrow if he got bored.
As Peeta stood to close the door Haymitch had left open it was then that I noticed how disheveled he looked. He must have been baking before he went for Haymitch's help because you could see the faint, yet distinctive, marks of flour on his pants. He smiled as he turned back and asked if I was tired. "No." "Do you want to watch the TV?" "No." "Do you want to make out with a really ridiculously good-looking baker?" he suggested with a wink. I laughed at his last suggestion and he leaned in to give me a kiss much stronger than his previous one.
As he stood there kissing me I pulled him in closer, wishing he could join me in the bed when the nurse opened the door. "Whoops! Sorry!" he said, backing out of the door. Peeta and I broke apart stood there, a bit embarrassed, and I told the nurse he could come back in. He did, his blush meeting ours, and quickly began talking with me about the medicine they were giving me, how I was doing, and the physical therapy I would be starting. It was then that I moved the blanket covering me to look at my plastered ankle. I hadn't thought much of the ankle itself before, but it felt very heavy. I let out a light laugh when I looked at it and tried to lift it. While I had regained a good bit of strength versus earlier that day, it was still a bit heavy for my leg. The nurse said that the next morning I could try walking around on it. And with that, he left. That night Peeta stayed with me but this time, at my insistence, the nurse's aid wheeled in a cot and Peeta slept on it, next to me.
A few days later I was home, hobbling on my crutches. I kicked a table leg and cursed loudly enough that I'm sure Peeta could hear me all the way at the bakery. I had insisted he go back to work the day after I got home and he did so, although the first day he took half of the day off. I was insistent upon him going about business as usual; if I couldn't function on my own with a broken ankle, I was a lost cause if Peeta came to his good senses and left me. He didn't laugh at this idea like I had, but I kissed him and pushed him out the door, eager to see how I would do on my own.
I honestly wondered why Peeta stuck around. We loved each other, but I wondered if it was the type of love that lasted. We still suffered from everything that had happened. That was without a doubt. But had we rushed into things? Did we really love each other or was it simply that because we helped each other heal we let that transform in our minds to equate love? I thought about it more. I was never one to think about love, but I didn't want to make a mistake. Not when it came to me, and especially not when it involved Peeta. I'd used him enough in the past. I didn't want to keep using him and robbing him of the kind of life he deserved. The more I thought about it, the sadder I grew. But at the same time, I wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing for Peeta. I was determined to find out before Peeta made the mistake of proposing-if he ever planned on doing it—and before I selfishly accepted.
That night when Peeta came home he began by asking me about my day while lifting my feet onto the couch and propping them up with pillows. "When would he stop being the nice guy?" I thought to myself. I told him in short, terse answers. He gave me a confused look and I tried to change the topic by asking how the day had gone in the bakery. He answered by sharing a few funny stories from customers and the class he taught that afternoon. He stood up to get started on dinner and I stayed on the couch, stewing over my thoughts from that afternoon that had crept in and taken root in my mind. As he spoke I tuned him out for the most part until he asked me a question. "What?" I shot out, caught off guard.
"Do you want to go for a walk to Haymitch's after dinner?" he repeated. I shook my head no and looked back down at my casted foot. He gave me a concerned look and finished dinner, bringing it over to me on the couch. I continued staring at my foot and thinking about whether or not my relationship was a disservice to Peeta or not while Peeta looked at me, the look of concern growing across his face.
"Katniss, are you sure you're okay? Have you taken too much of the medicine the doctor sent home?" Peeta asked, carefully. "No." I snapped back. "I've only taken what he gave me. Why do you have to think something's wrong?" Peeta's look faded and he softly said he was sorry. When I had finished eating he reached to take my plate but I snatched it back from him. "I can take it to the sink. I'm not completely helpless without you." Peeta stood there with his mouth ajar. "What is going on, Katniss? I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry. But there is no need to be like this." I threw my plate on the ground following his statement. Maybe the medicine was to blame. I felt hot and a bit nauseated. I began crying and Peeta scooped me up and carried me to our bedroom.
Once he place me on the bed he sat next to me and waited for me to stop crying. "Why do you always have to be the good guy, Peeta?" I said in frustration. He let out a small laugh and brushed my hair aside. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Katniss. This is just how I am. Good guy, bad guy. I don't know how to be any different." I wiped my eyes and stared at him.
"Do you ever worry that we rushed into this?" I asked. "Do you ever wonder if the emotions of healing were jumbled with love and we are 'in love' only because we feel better together? Not because we're really in love, just because we feel better when we're around each other?" The smile on his face sunk as the words escaped my mouth.
"Katniss, I…" his voice trailed off as he tried to think of what to say. "I don't know."