I am so enraged, how could he? How could he talk to them? How dare he! I contemplate slapping him across the face, but that isn't going to solve anything. My muscles are tensing, my shoulders are rising, my lips are quivering, my breath is growing heavier; I let out one scream and throw a punch into the wall. The sudden release of anger is comforting. There's a hole in the wall, but as for my hand it's starting to throb. It's throbbing really badly, and starting to swell. Without a glance at Peeta; whose eyes are on me, I sulk up the stairs into my bedroom's bathroom. Then and only then is when I let the tears of pain fall down my cheeks. I'm able to turn on the light only because the room is in the middle of the house, no windows to peep in. Holding my left hand into my body, I dig through the vanity's lower cabinet. There has to be a first aid kit in here somewhere. As I am searching, my pain is growing worse-thus my tears grow frequent. I don't even hear the footsteps on the stairs, so when I see him in the doorway I jump a little. He smirks a bit, but I just frown and continue the search for a medical kit. Peeta opens up the cabinet above and hands me the first aid kit- as if he knew it was there all along.
"Thanks." I mutter bitterly while snatching it from his hands.
I sit on the bathtub's edge and start to tend to my hand. Peeta hops up on the vanity. I'm trying to not be a baby about the pain, but I can't help but whimper while wrapping my hand. In a second though, despite the anger he knows I have; he comes over to me, kneels down and wraps my hand with gentle care. I won't make eye contact with him, but I do steal a few glances at him. On the fourth one, he looks up at me. I do not look away, I just hold that gaze. He finishes wrapping, even plants a small kiss on my- what I believe to be- broken hand. We both get changed for bed and meet where we have for almost the past two months. I have my back to him when he reaches out for me in the dark.
"I'm sorry." He whimpers out.
I sit straight up in bed, turning to look at his face. Why I want to scream, but I contain myself. He continues with his apology.
"I just thought maybe if I gave them what they wanted, they would leave us alone. That they would just go home. I didn't realize how distraught it would make you- you know I don't exactly like making you upset. Actually it's on my least favorite things to do list." He recovers from the slight side track.
"I told them about the bakery. How I planned on rebuilding it, and how that was like the first time I had seen it since I've been back. All questions about you, about us, I ignored. I pretended I didn't hear them and just kept emphasizing the plans I had for the bakery."
He pauses, but I don't give him my insight.
"-They um, they want me to do go to the capitol and do a baking segment." My eyes grow wide in the night. Peeta notices, sitting up he puts his hands over mine. His eyes are looking directly into mine.
"I'm not going. I'm not leaving you here." And as if it was old routine, I wrap my arms around him tightly.
"I'm sorry Peeta. It's not your fault they are here."
He sighs in a relieved manner. We both lay our heads down- Peeta's on a pillow, and mine on his chest. After a while, I whisper his name to see if he is still awake.
"Peeta?" I whimper.
"Yes?"
"I want you to know that the entire time we were apart, I missed you. Every damn night. It wasn't just waves, it was constant. All the time. And meanwhile everything else was moving so fast, so quickly, and me... well I felt like I was just moving in slow motion I was moving in slow motion, and everything around me was moving so fast. I want you to know that when we were on the beach, I felt something. Something that was so strong and it was like a hunger. It wasn't a part of any strategy, it wasn't faked. I felt it in the first arena-when I knew that you were alive, and that together we could go home. I felt it when you came back, before you-"
I clear my throat. "-strangled me. I don't want to keep secrets from you."
I prop myself up onto an elbow, with a serious expression I say,
"The other night you mumbled something in your sleep."
Completely taken off guard by my entire confession, it takes him a minute for it to click with him.
"What'd I say?"
I can't tell him, but I have to now. I brought it up, but how do you tell someone that subconsciously they confessed their love for you? So I don't say it with words, at least not right away. There's a fire burning inside of me and I let it have oxygen for the first time in a long time. Peeta is looking so curiously at me.
I lean over to him, letting my lips meet his for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. He's so bewildered. His lips register what is happening before his brain. He kisses me back, softly and eagerly-passionately. It's a kiss that finally isn't televised, in front of an audience, or for sponsors. It's real. We continue, just like this. I pull away though. Just in time to see his eyes flutter open, and a smile make its way across his face. I start apologizing, but he just shakes his head no. I put my head back to his chest and whisper:
"You said you loved me."
It gets real quiet. Probably contemplating the gravity of consequences the confession might cause, he finally speaks.
"I do. I don't think I ever really stopped. The capitol tried so very hard to make me hate you, but the feelings were buried so deeply inside- they just couldn't. I mean I guess they succeeded when I strangled you, but the longer I sat in that hospital bed- the longer I had time to think of you. It wasn't ever truly just you I was mad at; it was Haymitch, and President Snow, my family for not giving a crap if I came home or not…" He trails off.
"The capitol's hijacking just gave me a face of an enemy to hate- unfortunately it was yours."
"You never told me that."
"Prim knew. She knew…"
That names catches me off guard, I guess it's my turn to be de-railed tonight.