"I've been thinking a lot about something," Peeta whispers in my ear. The light from the late morning is shining through our bedroom window, the curtain not enough to shield the room from the growing intensity of the sun. I turn my head towards him, rubbing my eyes and fluffing up the pillow.
"And what exactly might that be?" I ask, hoping and praying he won't say a baby.
He brushes a stray hair from my face and wraps it behind my ear, "Reopening my family's bakery." Peeta says, smiling from ear to ear.
"Really?" of all the things for him to say that was the last thing I'd expected.
"Yeah." he looks away from me, and up at the ceiling. Opening the thoughts in his mind for me "I've thought about it for a while and I want to reopen it again. I mean, my parents loved it, the city loved it, I loved it." I place my head on his chest, wanting to take in every word he says.
"It'll be a lot of work. Are you prepared for that?" I question.
He places a hand on the small of my back. "Actually, yes."
And in that brief moment, it was settled. We would reopen the bakery to the same design as his parents had it before. We realized soon after that due to the bombing, the place was an absolute wreck and needed something new for everything, so most of the bakery's design came from memory.
I watch Peeta pull out a piece of paper and pencil, and start to draw what I believe is a sketch of the bakery at the kitchen table.
"What are you doing?" I ask, placing a cup of tea next to him and continue to stir the soup.
"I want the bakery to be perfect so I'm trying to remember what it had looked like before...everything." I realize he doesn't look up from his paper, and that it was a struggle enough for him to just speak to me for that little of while without forgetting the bakery. So I let him be, let him continue with the sketch, knowing sooner or later he'd stop.
And that was true, fifteen minutes later I had dinner on the table and he had placed the sketch back on his desk to continue after dinner. He told me his plans for the bakery, what he'd planned on changing, what had worked last time, what didn't. It felt wonderful to see him so happy about something; he hadn't been excited in such a long time.
"I'm so excited." he smiled, reaching for my hand and kissing it.
"I can tell." I chuckle, his gesture a bit much, but thoughtful. "But I'm really happy for you, Peeta."
"For us." he added, "This is our project, it'll be our bakery. I want your input too."
"Well," I begin, grabbing my plate and his and walking to the kitchen sink. "Thank you, but you really don't. I'm really no good at that kind of stuff."
I feel his hands wrap around my waist, his lips coming closer to my lips, his breath on my neck, "You're wonderful at everything you do." His lips brush against the side of my neck, gently kissing his way down my neck.
"Peeta," my voice fades, as his fingers brush down to my shirt, unbuttoning it. I tilt my head up, the plates drop from my hands, shattering in the sink. His hands twist, making my body turn towards his. My fingers find their way to his blonde hair, running them through it. He grabs the back of my legs, and I wrap them around his waist.
"I love you so much," he whispers in my ear.
I barely have enough time to say "I love you too," before he's carried me to our bedroom and has placed me on the bed.
I awake to the sound of thunder crashing in the distance and a flash of lightening through the window. I feel the house shake from the intensity of the storm, my hands grasp for something and then I realize something's beneath me.
Peeta's shaking in his sleep, and with each crash of lightening he jumps and shakes even more.
"Peeta," I push on his chest, "Peeta, wake up. It's just a thunderstorm." His eyes shoot open as he's jolted awake by the next crash of thunder, and grabs my waist harder than I expected, "Ow!"
He rubs his eyes and looks down at me. "Katniss, what happened?" I get up off the bed, rubbing my waist, "A thunderstorm. You must've been having a nightmare brought on by the storm."
He rubs his forehead, trying to remember. "Yeah, I th-think so," he stutters, shivering from the cold air from the open window. I walk over to close it, staying to watch the storm outside.
"How bad do you think it's gonna get?" I pull my sweater
I hear Peeta's footsteps walk towards me. He kisses my shoulder and wraps his arms around my waist. He brushes up against my waist and it's tender, "I hope not too bad. The plants can't take too much rain, they'll die." Of course the plants are Peeta's first worry-wait, the plants.
I push Peeta's arms off of my waist and run down the steps. I can hear Peeta yelling for me, but I ignore him. I have to get to them. I have to save them. "Katniss, what are you doing?" Once I open the door, Peeta's voice becomes drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain pouring down.
I run out to the garden that Peeta has planted, I place my body overtop the primroses, wanting to protect them with everything inside me, wanting to protect them more than I protected Rue, more than I protected Prim, more than I could protect my own child.
The tears fill my eyes, and soon I'm drowning in my own sobs and mutters of I'm sorry. I hear Peeta's tender voice asking me simple questions, but somehow I cannot find the words for the answers to them. I feel his hands grasp my waist, pulling me away from the flowers, telling me that they'll be fine in the morning. Slowly but surely, I listen and allow him to take my shivering and shaking body back into the house.
He places me on the couch and helps me change into a pair of clean clothes. He sits next to me, wrapping our bodies in a blanket. I feel his warm breath on my forehead, and the small tender kisses he places on it. He doesn't ask me any questions, which I thank him silently for. I don't want to talk about what I just did, I don't want to talk about why I felt the need to do what I just did. There are no rational reasons to why I did do it, only insane ones, only ones of a broken person.
Which is exactly what I am, broken.