Part Three

Chapter Eight

Each family gets four tickets to graduation, so in addition to our mom, Peeta and me, Prim graciously invites Annie. Hazelle and the Hawthorne kids are part of the big day and we're all in one long row, waiting for the canned speeches and names to be read. I'm sandwiched between Peeta and Annie, with Gale on the other side of her. The mothers are on their respective ends of the row and assorted Hawthorne kids fill in the gaps.

Out of nowhere Prim comes running over and practically hisses, "Katniss! I need you!"

I get up and follow her to the back of the auditorium, through a hallway and into an open classroom. "What? I hope you don't need a tampon because I didn't even bring a purse. I can probably get a quarter though—."

"Oh my God, I don't need a tampon. What am I? Twelve?" She grabs me around my waist and hugs me close. "I just love you, okay? I wanted to thank you for everything before I walk across the stage."

"Prim, what is this?" I hear her sniffling and I try to lighten the mood. "Hey, hey, don't smudge your makeup."

"Thank you for being such a great sister." I walk to the teacher's desk and grab a tissue, handing it to Prim. "I don't know why I'm crying. I'm graduating…it just feels really real all of a sudden. I'm leaving Madison soon. What if I don't like the U? And what if Rory and I break up?"

"Hey, it's okay. Breathe." I start to take deep breaths to encourage her. Once she's a little calmer, I continue. "Yeah, you'll fuck up a little but eventually you find this crazy balance between holding on and letting go. It'll be okay, I promise." I take a tissue and help her dab at her eye makeup. "I'm really proud of you, you know that? Mom is, too. And Dad would be over the moon about his baby girl. He would." She nods. "Come on, you need to get back out there for the big show."

"Thanks Katniss. I love you."

I walk her back to where her classmates are gathered and then make my way back into the auditorium. I shuffle to my seat next to Peeta and he whispers, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. She just needed a tampon." He cringes and the processional starts.

…

"Ohmigod, thanks you guys!" Prim launches herself at Peeta and then at me, holding the plane ticket up for everyone to see. Mom invited the Hawthornes over for a small party and the graduates are opening presents while the rest of us eat cake.

"It's really a selfish present because we're hoping that you'll use it soon and come visit us again." Peeta points out that there are no restrictions on dates and Prim starts to make plans for possibly coming out this summer. "The door is always open."

She pouts dramatically. "I can't believe you have to leave today. I feel like you just got here."

I would never say it out loud, but I couldn't disagree more. Looking over at Peeta, I know that he feels the exact same way. These few days have been some of the longest of our lives and Peeta and I are anxious to get back to our own routine. We're also excited about the prospect of two additional vacation days at home, but no one else knows we planned for that; we need a vacation from our vacation. The plans for our stay-cation include sweats and beer.

Gale isn't here—he said that he had some packing to do and I figured he'd had enough forced interaction—but I look around and find that I am okay with the visit overall. I found my own balance of holding on and letting go. Some people fit in the 'hold on' category: Annie and Prim, for example. Mrs. Mellark is firmly in the 'let go' column. Some, like my mom and Gale, actually fit in both. Maybe that's acceptance? I don't know for sure.

…

"Is there anything we should pick up on the way home?" Peeta looks over at me from the driver's seat of his truck. We're on our way back from the airport and just passed into Massachusetts from Connecticut. "I don't want to leave the house once we close the door."

I laugh and playfully pat his thigh. "Um, I don't think so. I mean, you have stuff to bake with if that's what you want to do. We have pretty much everything else. Beer. Saltines. Cheese. Potatoes. I think we might even have bacon in the freezer."

"We're disgusting."

"And your point is?"

He laughs and grabs my hand. "God, I love you."

…

Waking up is perfect. Our bed. Our sheets. Our house smelling like our stuff. I look over at Peeta—he's still sleeping—and spend some time memorizing his face. He's got a freckle under his left eye and there are creases near the corner of his mouth from smiling. There's some stubble coming in and I can see the little scars from when he had the chicken pox and probably scratched.

It's weird: when I look at Peeta I see just about everything I love. Everything from Esselon to Annie to Haymitch and the outdoors, from art to sourdough to stupid long sleeved t-shirts, from the Pixies to Prim to basil. It's comforting, not stifling.

His nose twitches a little and I smile. Peeta is the 14 year-old kid I crushed on and the almost-23 year-old man I'm engaged to. If I squint a little, I can see Peeta as slightly older. He's still my partner-in-crime, but things have changed. Maybe his graphic design business takes off, or perhaps he owns his own bakery. He snakes the drain when I'm too grossed out to do it myself and still doesn't unroll his socks before putting them in the pile of dirty laundry7. He's also a father; the best dad any kid could hope for. He embraces people not only for who they are, but for who they have the potential to be. He's stronger as a result of what he's been dealt.

Peeta makes me stronger, too. I'm less afraid of what I feel and am better able to put those feeling into words. So what if I have to put them to paper first? He eventually makes me say them out loud, anyway. He makes me laugh, makes me feel absolutely secure in my own skin and in my own head. Peeta gently pushes me when I need to be and isn't afraid to call me out on my bullshit, either. He's not once let me down.

Peeta is home.

I look down at my ring and twirl it around my finger. Peeta (admittedly) proposed to me to prove something. He wanted to prove to me and everyone else that he was serious about our relationship. It occurs to me that we no longer need to prove anything to anyone.

But there's still something I can do.

I stretch and gently place a kiss between Peeta's brows. His eyes are closed but he smiles and mumbles, "Love you, too" as I slip out of bed and tuck the blankets around him. He sprawls out with the whole bed at his disposal and nestles back into the warmth.

Downstairs, I set the kettle on the stove for tea before sitting at the kitchen table with the notebooks I wrote in for Peeta. The last one is the same notebook that has his letter to me, a letter I've now memorized with the number of times I've read it. We've already talked through pretty much everything that needed to be said, so I decide to keep it simple and highlight everything I like. Then I turn to a fresh page and write something new.

I look at the note and smile, sipping my tea. Eventually I hear Peeta's heavy footsteps making their way across the bedroom and down the stairs. He walks to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, mumbling about coffee. I offer to make him some and he sleepily sits in the chair I just vacated, rubbing his face and looking down at the closed notebooks in front of him.

"What're these doing out? A bit of morning reading?"

I shrug. "Not really. Just some writing."

"Oh yeah? I thought that we were weaning you off of the writing." He looks over at me but I just lean against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating. "What's on your mind?"

"It's just drabbles." I pour a cup of coffee and bring it over to Peeta, sitting on his lap. "Don't worry, we can read it together." He starts to leaf toward the back of the book but I stop him. "No, we have to start at the beginning."

Peeta opens the book to the first page and I can see his eyes dart to the highlighted note. Immediately I put my palm over the words and say, "No, this time I want you to read to me. Okay?"

He sounds confused but agrees. "Okay?" His arms are wrapped tightly around my waist and I turn the pages, a team effort. And so he begins.

I've never been wonderful at getting my words out without stumbling, but if you could only know how much I truly want to say.

I think of you every day.

I'll try again tomorrow.

He mumbles, "Katniss, what is this?"

I turn to brush my lips against his cheek. "Please, just read."

Someday I'll bring you here.

I feel you here with me now, holding my hand and telling me that somehow this will all shake out. And if it didn't work out exactly how we'd planned it, you'd kiss me and love me anyway.

I want to know if all of that happiness can coexist.

You said that you were broken, but you were wrong. You're beautiful.

If I asked you, would you go with me?

In that moment, everything is so fantastically perfect that you don't want to blink.

But then I realized that, well, it was you. It was always you. You've always pushed me just enough to make me better. It wasn't about making me look weak…it was about making me strong.

I love feeling that way.

And I want that for you. I want to be that for you. Not because it's the right thing to do, and not because it's some crazy obligation I've made up. But because that's what you and I do for each other.

We're at the top of my list.

I'll keep pushing you if you keep pushing me.

There hasn't been one moment between now and the first time that I said it that I haven't loved you.

Thank you for being as patient as you could.

I want to live our story with you.

I'm telling you that I love you–all of you–and knowing that breathes life into me. All I needed was one reason why this would work.

I love you. I don't know what else to say. But maybe that is enough.

Peeta rests his head on my shoulder and I can feel his smile against my skin. We're quiet for a long moment but then he asks, "What was that for?"

I grip one of his hands with my own and whisper back, "Keep reading."

"That was it."

"Keep reading." I turn the page and he does.

Peeta,

Actually, there's just one more thing I want to say.

Marry me.

Katniss

Chapter Eight Notes:
7. Kerissa and Penny, this line is for you. Mundane!Everlark.

Author's Note: e-marina you are a gif princess.