Chapter 38
As soon as I leave Gale's house, I feel almost liberated in some ways. The sunset is at that time of day where its casting pinkish rays against the clouds. It hints for a beautiful view once the sun touches the horizon.
I take in a deep breath before forcing my feet in the direction from which I came from. It feels good to be talking with Gale again. Perhaps its because he is like a brand new person. Or perhaps its because he seems to understand better this time around, especially concerning Peeta and my own feelings.
Or perhaps its because he knows he did something that killed a part of me and apologizes for it, even though he doesn't recognize what it is.
I pity him for that. Its almost like carrying a burden that's not yours. He's taking the blame for old Gale. Like an innocent child sticking up for the wrongdoings of its parent or sibling.
Maybe that's why I've finally allowed myself to give him some slack.
The emotions I feel towards him vary from cautiousness to pity to irritation to sadness. But now, I can truthfully say that I can add feeling safe and comfortable enough to talk to him normally without wanting to yell at him about Prim.
I decide that at the moment, my relationship with Gale is neutral. That's the best word I can come up with to describe it.
As I approach the bakery, I notice that the town is quiet. Everyone must be inside, warding off the chill that the night will bring once the sun drops down. But as I look over at the bakery, expecting Peeta to still be there, it comes to my attention that he isn't.
Where could he have gone? I'm confused because Peeta hadn't gone home. I would have seen him from where I was sitting in Gale's living room.
It comes again. That sheer panic I feel whenever I suspect something is wrong. Where could he be? He would tell me whenever he goes anywhere. But I had left him before he could even get those words out.
My eyes dart around as I wildly sort through the suggestions in my mind. If he's not at the bakery, or at home...
I break into a run, headed straight for the woods. Of course, I think to myself as I slide through the doorway of the new protective fence the government had installed in 12. The meadow.
I fly across through the trees, trying to stop the panic from seizing my limbs. I know that if I let my pounding heart and twisted thoughts get to me, they will send me tumbling to the ground. And I can't let anything stop me right now.
Because if I stop, I might let the fear get to me.
Then Peeta won't know how I feel.
It unnerves me a bit to realize just how urgently I need to tell Peeta this. It was only weeks ago where I wanted nothing to do with a relationship. Where I was perfectly fine with remaining alone. Unattached.
What I didn't realize was how critical a role Peeta played in that lifestyle. How he would come over every day or vice versa. How he would let me use the bathroom first every morning and cook me breakfast. How he would offer to help me clean the game I brought home.
And for that, I will always be unable to repay his kindness.
Except now, I also realize that it isn't about owing anymore.
Its about what we need. What we want.
I need this, I think grimly. I never thought I would, but I do. I need him.
I explode out of the trees and spot the open fields of the meadow ahead of me, sloping upwards to the overlook of the forest. Without slowing my steps, I ascend the hill, keeping my eyes peeled for Peeta.
I see him almost as soon as I spot the oak tree that I had staked as our spot days ago, just before Cinna's unexpected arrival at the Justice Building. He's a ways away from the oak tree's strong, thick trunk. He sits on the grass with his knees propped up in front of him, his elbows resting on them. He is staring at the view from the overlook, now an explosion of color.
The sunset is absolutely beautiful, unlike any I've ever seen. It must be the winter weather, because the colors are vivid. Bright reds. Muted oranges. Tinges of gold. Streaks of purple along the horizon. And underneath the masterpiece the sky has painted, the forest stands tall and peaceful, the trees casting shadows and creating patterns all along the valley.
But the sunset isn't the thing that takes my breath away. Its Peeta that does. He looks so lonely, sitting there by himself on the dead grass that has, luckily, been shielded from snow by the protective overhanging branches of the oak tree. The breeze tousles his hair this way and that, giving him an endearing childish quality that calls me to him. But his broad shoulders are silhouetted against the bright sunset, telling of his strength. Of his courage. Both of which remind me of his dedication to me.
Which reminds me of my dedication to him.
The urgency returns, gnawing at me this time so intensely that it almost physically hurts to look at this boy before me and be unable to call him mine.
Fear springs up to join the urgency. What if he turns me down? What if he doesn't want to deal with me and my problems anymore and just wants to start over? Maybe with that blond Merchant girl he was talking to earlier?
My limbs are trembling. I'm about to make a fool of myself. Or cry. Or both. I force myself forward before I can change my mind.
Peeta watches the sunset without moving. As I approach him, I can see that he is fiddling with little stones, tossing them up in the air so he can catch them. He doesn't hear my hunter's tread and jumps in surprise when I quickly move in front of him, kneeling.
"Hi-" he beings, but I interrupt him.
The words tumble out. Fast. Maybe he can't understand what I'm saying but I have to say it anyways. My stomach twists in uncomfortable knots.
"You're a painter. You're a baker. Your favorite color is orange. You never take sugar in your tea." He's staring at me. Emotions flash across his face. Is he happy? Confused? Mystified? I push on, regardless, before the tears can fall.
"You like to sleep with the windows open. You always double-knot your shoelaces. You saved me from the Careers. You saved me from the Capitol. You left, but you came back. And I don't-" I stop, panting from running over here. In my haste, I almost had forgotten that its not about me anymore. And that I want Peeta to decide if he needs me the exact same way I need him.
I stand and walk to the edge of the overlook, my face to the sunset.
I'm confused. He must noticed it. He's been far too quiet. I take in a deep breath, calming my racing heartbeat as I add softly, "I don't want to lose you."
His eyes soften and he walks over, remaining a respectable distance away from me. I immediately wish that he would just take me in his arms and hug me close. I can tell he feels unsure, mostly because I'm so sensitive to love and all emotions related to it, and is avoiding touching me. But instead of making me happy, I crave it all the more. He has no idea, I think. The effect that he has.
"You'll never lose me, Katniss." He says softly, but that's not enough for me. It doesn't satisfy the ache I'm feeling inside that I get when he's not around. When I know that he isn't mine.
"I love you," I blurt out quickly, and I feel as if the earth has shifted beneath me. "I don't know how I know or why. But I need you, Peeta." A tear slips from my eye and I curse it inwardly. Tears. A sign of weakness. I can't even look at him now, deep shame and embarrassment welling in my stomach.
I don't know how long I stand there, waiting for his answer, but he doesn't speak right away.
Instead, he pulls me into his arms and buries his head into my neck, right along my signature braid. I can hear his breathing, uneven and harsh. "You just told me you love me. Real or not real?"
Tears threaten to spill over onto my cheeks. But I remind myself that I can't back down anymore. Not with Peeta. Even if we still have to play this game to understand exactly what the other is feeling.
I close my eyes and push my face into his shoulder, tightening my arms around him. The rays of the sunlight shine brightly on us, illuminating the field in harsh and pale rays of orange light. Its him. Peeta is my light. He's the sunset I can go to at the end of the day. Dependable. Radiant. And its all real.
"Real, Peeta. It's real."