It feels like I have literally just gotten home when the phone rings. My mind, perhaps illogically, jumps to Gale. Part of me yearns to pick up and find out. If for no other reason than to repeat what Haymitch told him in the training center. I want to think that he would call and apologize for the things that he said, though he couldn't possibly know I heard. More than that, I want him to plead for my forgiveness, to tell me he has been a fool to act the way he has and for the decisions he made during the war.
Peeta is still shaking his coat off in the doorway when the trill of the phone pierces the silent air. Snowflakes dance to the floor of my foyer as he hangs up his coat and shuts the front door, closing the cocoon of protection around us while all the while suffering from a massive headache, a reminder of the lingering hangover he hasn't been able to shake all day. He must see my face and read my look. When I don't answer the phone he decides to answer it for me, something he has never done before. I'm not entirely certain he's conscious of the decision.
"Hello?" he asks, his voice calm and collected. If it is Gale on the other end of the line, I doubt he'll stay that way.
Glancing up from the side table, he mouths the word 'Effie' as he continues to listen, squinting from the loudness of her voice as he attempts to lower the volume of the receiver.
My heart both sinks with disappointment and swells with relief at the same time. In truth, it wouldn't matter if Gale calls. I'm not even sure why my mind ventures to him now. It doesn't matter what he would try to say. He could apologize until he is blue in the face but as I sink into the comfort of my exorbitant couch, I know there is no coming back from my trip to District Two coupled with the exchange I overhead with Haymitch. And if there had been a ray of hope left after that, seeing him at the dance with a Katniss lookalike clinging to his side had been the final nail in the coffin. We have built a wall between us over the past year and for good reason. I have tried to knock on the wall, per Peeta's request, as Gale has from the other side as well. Instead of working through the barrier, I have barreled through it at full steam and have kept on charging.
As Peeta talks to Effie, I realize I'm finally done. Especially after that kiss in the Capitol with Peeta. I want to move on and stop looking back. Even if Gale tries to apologize for what he has said and, more importantly, what he has done - and I doubt he ever will - I wouldn't believe him. The tone in his voice had been so sure and just so... Gale. He had meant every word, and there is no getting over that. And even in the slimmest chance that I could, I study Peeta now and I know it wouldn't even matter. Even Peeta at his lowest point, still grappling with his hangover and misery and suffering, offers a possibility I think I'm determined to explore.
"Katniss." Peeta's gentle prodding breaks me from my thoughts and I glance up. He hasn't said a word since he woke up this morning. When I simply stare at him, he realizes I have no idea what he said to me, if anything. Patiently he repeats the question, "Did Haymitch mention to you that President Paylor requested that we return to the Capitol to ring in the new year? They are planning on holding a celebration to mark the first full year of freedom in Panem for all." I can tell he is reciting, verbatim, Effie's words and that's he's having a bit of difficulty remembering the whole thing. "Effie's calling because we are on the guest list, but we are clearly not there."
A million complaints spring to mind instantly. We have just been to the Capitol for the anniversary of the end of the war. Even though we didn't stay for the whole thing, we stayed long enough. Have we not paraded around enough for their amusement? Have we not been good little puppets, apart from our early departure? When, exactly, had Effie planned on mentioning this part of the agenda? Why wait until we return to District Twelve instead of just telling us the reason they wanted us to stay while we were still there? Though perhaps I understand the last part. It's not like it would have changed my mind in the slightest.
Even in his less than stellar situation, Peeta can read me before I sputter out a word. "The message must have gotten crossed somewhere, I'm afraid," he tells Effie regrettably. To his credit, he makes it sound as if his words are in earnest; so much so, in fact, that I have to wonder if he actually does, though the idea seems absurd based on what's happened in the past few days. "We just returned an hour or so ago, and neither one of us..." he is cut off or trails off, I'm not sure. "A little better, thanks for asking, but not quite back to one hundred percent I'm afraid." A pause. "Of course," he says as I grab the blanket, the one that reminds me so much of home, from the back of the couch and drape it over my legs. Folding my legs up and tucking my feet under me, I wait as Peeta continues to ensure Effie how sorry we are that we left before we could attend.
My eyes wander briefly, but it doesn't take long for them to land on the mantel above the fireplace. The locket sits innocently though I don't remember putting it there. It feels like ages have passed since Peeta handed it to me in the arena, and I guess in certain ways it has been. I don't have to look at the pictures to recall them. I have committed them to memory. My heart aches at the sight. I have lost all of them in one way or another. The irony never fails to strike me deeply.
I'm not aware of Peeta ending the conversation, but suddenly he is sliding onto the couch next to me. I reposition myself to give him more space.
"I'm sorry about the wine last night," I tell him as he spreads the blanket out to cover himself as well. Buttercup eyes us from his spot on the rug but makes no move to join us for which I am eternally grateful. He's probably just put out that we're already back and disrupting his peace and quiet. The two of us have come to an understanding, but we certainly aren't the best of friends by anyone's standards.
"Do I even want to know what happened with Effie this morning?" he asks softly, his arm stretching along the back of the couch while his fingers pick at the fabric.
"It wasn't good," I answer with a dry laugh. While he plucks at the couch, I toy with the end of my braid, so much shorter than it used to be but starting to grow back out. "How much do you even remember from yesterday evening?" Suddenly, I can't meet his gaze any longer. My eyes drop to stare at where my knees rest just an inch away from brushing against his. I muse at how we can be so close in proximity and yet feel so distant sometimes, even when alcohol isn't involved. It's my fault, of course. I put that distance there, intentionally or not, and now sometimes it feels impossible to close the gap.
"Not much," he admits as he massages his temple and reaches for the glass of water I'd grabbed from the kitchen just as the phone began to ring. "I remember showing up at the event. Seeing you in that dress, and then seeing Gale with his girlfriend. And then it goes a bit hazy, and I remember you kissing me." I can tell from the way he lays out the events the way he is piecing it together. He's making connections that I don't want, that lead to presumptions that aren't true.
"That's not why I kissed you, Peeta."
A beat. Then two. "Then why, Katniss? To snap me back to reality so I didn't have a breakdown in public?"
There it is. I'm not sure if I expected it this time or not, but it isn't unreasonable. We have been playing this little dance for a while now, and even I am tired of it. It's a pity, almost, that my mandated therapy sessions are over and I can't ring my shrink to pick his brain.
"I don't know," I tell him. It's the truth but it's only half of it, if even that. "I saw you get that look in your eye," I start, not even sure myself where I'm leading the conversation, "and even then, you represented everything that Gale wasn't. You were safe and inviting and warm. Even though you were about to fall apart, you were still the strongest person in that entire room. But it's more than that, too. We keep saying how we need to learn to move on with our lives, but the relationship between us, our relationship, is stuck."
"So since the last bit of hope you've been holding out for Gale is officially dead and I'm weak and vulnerable at the moment, you want to try to move forward with me?"
"No," I answer, perhaps a bit too quickly. "That's not... that's what I said, okay, I realize that now, but that's not what I mean. I don't want this to be about Gale. It isn't about Gale," I insist. "I just..." I sigh, deeply, and let out something between a nervous laugh and a strangled cry. "I don't know how to do this with you, Peeta. I have never known how to do this. At least before, in the arena, I felt like I could tell what Haymitch wanted us to do. And with Snow, it was even more direct in what was expected of us."
I finally meet his eye but can't read his expression. "Now it's just you and me, and I don't know where to start or even how. And I know it doesn't seem real coming from me now. But while I was at Gale's house, and even before, I realized that he would never treat me the same way that you do. He and I are like birds in the same tree. It worked when we were fighting together to survive, but at some point it turned into fighting against each other. And yes, maybe it took Gale to see that, but it showed me how well we – you and I - work together. It didn't drive me to just pick you as an alternative." I stop talking. I've already rambled on and on, and I know I'm not saying any of it right. If anything, my nonsense has probably been convincing him that he's right and that he is my backup plan. I never know how to say the mess in my mind.
"You're cold," is all he says. Then he stands and moves to the fireplace. I can do nothing but stare at his back as he adds wood to the stack and lights a fire. He disappears into the kitchen as the flames flicker to life, but I can't move. Is this truly how it is going to be between us? Me, trying to convince him of I don't even know what and him not believing me? Things had been easier when I had been pretending, before he had realized it. It is a lot scarier being on the other side of the equation, no longer pretending and not sure where that leaves me standing.
He returns after a moment with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. One of the only perks of being in the Hunger Games and traveling to the Capitol is that we found such a delicious treat. And that we have an insane personal wealth to spend on such frivolous treats. After handing me one, he grabs a throw pillow from the couch and moves to sit before the fire. My fingers grip the handle so tightly they start to pale in color.
"It's warmer down here," he says. I take it as an invitation to join him. Bringing the blanket with me I position myself beside him, opposite the fire. I test the temperature of my hot chocolate, but it burns my tongue. Setting it down on the edge of the coffee table to cool, I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
"So what happens," he asks, his attention fixed on the fireplace, "when you and Gale make up? I know you don't believe it will ever happen but I also know you, Katniss. And I know him, better than I wish to. It might not be right away or it might not be for years, but one day you two will learn to navigate this wall between you. What happens then?"
It's eerie, seeing a vulnerable side of Peeta. I'm the one who's supposed to be unsure and insecure. "I don't know," I tell him honestly. "I don't know what happens then because I don't know where we'll be. Maybe by then, you'll have already figured out that I'm broken and beyond saving. That they can fix my skin on the surface, but that doesn't fix me. Maybe by then, you'll have met someone sweet and kind and deserving of you, and you'll be spending your days teaching her how to decorate cakes in your bakery. Maybe I'll be a drunk and hanging out with Haymitch all the time. But I can promise you that it won't matter. Should hell freeze and Gale and I miraculously find a way to be friends again - which will never happen - I'm never going to feel that way for Gale. There was the possibility, before, but not now."
"You're not broken," he says as he turns his head to face me. His eyes are soft, and the fire makes all of his features bright. "And even if you were, you'd never be beyond saving. You are the strongest person I know, and you never give up. Not even on yourself."
"I want to deserve you," I confess. It's the hardest truth I had ever spoken to him, and it leaves a surprising emptiness inside me knowing I've revealed it aloud. "I don't want you to wake up one day and realize I was never worth all this time you've wasted on me. I want to be worth it."
"You've been spending too much time with Haymitch," he laughs, but it's gentle and not demeaning in the slightest the way Haymitch would laugh. Or Gale, or pretty much anyone else I know, including myself. "I already told you, it's always been you. It will always be you. You've always underestimated yourself and have been self-depreciating, but I'll never believe you aren't worth the fight."
"So what happens when Gale and I make up?" I ask, mimicking his earlier question.
"Then I beat him over the head with my prosthetic leg until he is no longer a threat."
I can't help but laugh, a real laugh, thankful he's found a way to break the tension. "I don't know if this is going to work," I admit. "I'm pretty sure I'll find a way, multiple ways in fact, to screw it up. I have a knack for doing just that."
"We won't know until we try," he reasons.
I can't tell who leans in first or who closes that last small gap between us. While the fire and the blanket shelter me from the cold, they are no longer what keeps me warm. The warmth starts at my lips before traveling across my cheek and down my neck as Peeta leaves a trail of kisses. It is an exploration of an entire new territory. My toes curl from the sensation.
Knowing that Peeta won't pull away this time citing our previously broken record gives me the courage to turn my head and find his lips with mine. Our lips meet and after only a moment's hesitation part. Our tongues dance, and it becomes harder and harder to not just think clearly but to think at all.
That forbidden fire returns within me. For the first time it doesn't disappear. Instead of extinguishing the fire, we feed it. We explore where we have never been before, and I take comfort in the fact that I know we are exploring it for the first time together.
It becomes a night of starts and stops, endings and beginnings. We break apart to eat and for Peeta to turn on the Capitol feed for the celebration we are supposed to be attending. We break apart again later when I think my lungs will explode from the lack of oxygen. The combination of warmth between the fire and Peeta leaves me breathless and exhausted. I must have dozed off for a while at some point because he wakes me up with a gentle nudge of my shoulder. It is a few minutes before midnight, and we watch as Caesar Flickerman parades the celebration for all of Panem to see.
When the countdown reaches zero and the clock strikes midnight, we both lean in to each other. Though the kiss is soft and light, there's a promise of something more. "To a new year," Peeta whispers, pulling back just the slightest. His breath tickles my face. I have no idea what Effie had planned for the day, but I'm certain it wouldn't have come close to this. I can't imagine anything better than this moment, right here and now.
I am so consumed with the changes in the evening that I can only nod. He closes the distance again, and I smile against his lips. Then his hands slide up my sides, and I let myself go to get lost in his touch.