Chapter 9

After updating Peeta on what has been going on in District 12 on his living room couch, we sit in comfortable silence. Peeta had brought out some cookies he had baked earlier to go with the tea, the baked goods topped with delicate frosting designs. It feels good to see that Peeta is still able to channel his love for baking after all of this. It makes me feel guilty about my pitiful hunting excursions.

Peeta has asked me about those. He has actually invited me over for dinner again tomorrow. "I may need some fresh meat though," he says, thinking that I would volunteer my skills to fulfill the task. I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. "I haven't been hunting well," I confess, ashamed. Right when I got back from 12, I tried once to throw myself back into my daily routine as suggested by Sae. However, after many startled animals, arrows completely missing their marks, and a wasted afternoon, I came back home, empty-handed and sobbing.

Peeta is stunned when I recount that miserable day. He then nonchalantly changes the topic by saying how it all comes back with practice and proceeds to tell me a story about how, when he returned from the first Games, he had forgotten how to cook after the Capitol food. His words distract me, but not enough so that I forget how embarrassing it is to admit that the huntress had forgotten how to hunt. Even Peeta's smooth words and silver tongue can't hide the fact that I am useless.

Its quiet when I ask him the one question I wanted the answer to. "Peeta, about the... treatment." I pause, carefully watching him. He only nods for me to continue. "Well... how effective was it?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "The treatment was very thorough," he begins. "It took a whole month for them to complete it." The cup in his hand rotates as he stares down into the warm tea. "They successfully neutralized most of the venom, but there's still a bit left that they didn't want to risk treating."

"Why?" I'm puzzled, but Peeta doesn't hide anything.

"If they did, there would be a high risk that I would have short-term memory loss on top of the long-term hijacking stuff. They pretty much reversed the symptoms though, so I remember most things." He seems content, so I drop the topic. I feel immense relief that most of the venom is gone. That means less episodes. Less violence. I have him back, for the most part. I push down the small disappointment that pushes up when he mentions that it isn't completely gone. I should be grateful he's as well off as he is.

We finish up the plate of cookies and a second cup of tea as I realize how late it has become. "Its late," I say.

Peeta nods, but makes no move to help me to the door. "You could stay here if you want," he says. "I could sleep on the couch and you could sleep on my bed-"

"That's not necessary." I interrupt him. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You wouldn't be inconveniencing me," he protests quietly, but I can't stay here because then everything will be happening so fast. Too fast. Then I would just end up confused. Pushing him away.

I can't do that.

"Peeta, I live right next door," I argue reasonably.

He runs a hand through his hair. "Are you sure?" I nod. He follows me as I walk to his front door. As soon as he pulls the door open, a wintery gust blows in, chilling me to the bone. Peeta shuts the door quickly before opening up his hall closet and pulling out a soft dark gray hoodie. "Here, its cold outside," he says, shaking it out and holding it open for me to slip my arms in. I step away instead. "Peeta, really, its not-"

"Just take it, Katniss. You're coming back tomorrow anyways," he says. Seeing that he won't let me leave until I put it on, I let him place the warm cotton hoodie over my shoulders. Just as I reach for the doorknob, he pulls me into his arms and embraces me gently.

The hug does it again, except this time, I feel overly hot. Maybe its the hoodie. I close my eyes, savoring the warmth, however. After so long of feeling so cold, so dead to the world, he comes and brings the light I need to survive. Now I'm burning. Alive. I barely have time to return the hug before he says good night and pulls back. Flushed, I make my way back home, turning back once to find him watching from the window to make sure I'm safe.

When I'm back in my own house, I head to my bedroom and begin to undress, throwing Peeta's hoodie onto my pillow while taking the dress and tossing it into the hamper. I decide to shower in the morning and put on the worn t-shirt I designated for sleeping before collapsing onto the bed.

That night, even though I wake up once to feed Buttercup.

I have a dreamless sleep, my head resting on Peeta's jacket.