Most of the time, it is as if nothing has changed between us. Our daily routines do not alter and neither do our actions for the most part. Most evenings Peeta is exhausted from a long day at the bakery and I'm tuckered out from a day spent under the insufferable heat of the summer sun in the woods. We eat, we discuss our days. Sometimes, if Peeta isn't dead on his feet, he paints. When he does, I try to work on the book. When I'm feeling weighed down by the burdens of the past but Peeta has the need to paint, I simply watch him and marvel at his talent.
Most days the comfort we take in being in each other's presence is enough. It is more than enough. But there are times, every now and again, when I feel a need. A need that I now know only Peeta can satisfy. We will be sitting in the living room and I will glance up to find him already looking at me. There will be this look in his eye, and I will lose sense. My body takes control over my mind, and I cannot stop myself from wanting to devour him.
He is no better. Though he shows as much self-control as I do, he has his weak moments as well. They usually revolve around my singing, which I still don't realize I'm doing more often than not. We'll be in his bakery or in the kitchen or, on the rare occasion, in the woods together when he can take a day off from work. I won't realize I'm singing until I see an almost dazed look in his eyes, like he is lost in the melody. Lost in me. And then he will gravitate to me, and I'm helpless to push him away. If anything, I'm guilty of pulling him towards me closer. In these moments, we lose ourselves in the newly discovered bliss of intimacy I never thought I'd be able to experience.
When these situations arise, I feel his love in every fiber of my being. I feel a need that is desperate and almost angry. I can't tell if it is his or mine, but I believe it is a bit of both. We want each other, but I think we also need each other. We give each other comfort that we cannot find in others. We've been through so much together, and I know our path is far from over. We will suffer more heartache and pain in this lifetime. But in these moments, for the first time, I honestly believe that we'll make it through it, and we'll be stronger for it.
When I look into his eyes, when I scrape my teeth against the skin of his neck and gasp his name in a pleasure I never dreamt I could possess, I don't feel broken. And when he whispers my name and buries his head against my neck and drops his weight onto me, I no longer worry that it will break him. I wipe the sweaty hair from his forehead and kiss his slick skin. When I look into his eyes, I don't worry that his pupils will dilate or that he'll lose himself in memories. Because this is new to both of us, and we're building only happy memories from it now, not reliving tragedies of our past.
Once in a blue moon, my mind will drift to Gale while I am in the woods. I'll spot one of my snares, or I'll catch sight of a deer darting through the foliage. It will trigger memories, mostly happy ones, of hunting with Gale. I will think about calling him or visiting him, as if we might be able to reconcile our friendship though nothing has changed. I still wonder, in those fleeting moments, how we ended up so far apart. Sometimes I let myself ponder what could have been if things had not fallen so far off the path we'd started on. Would he have stayed in Twelve? Could we have been hunting in the woods together, bringing back dinner for Prim and Peeta? But the thoughts are only as brief as the sight of the deer darting behind the trunk of a large tree and disappearing deeper into the woods, as fast as the flames consumed my sister.
I know now, in my heart, with the upmost certainty, that they were right about what they spoke of in the dark when they thought I was asleep. I picked the one I couldn't live without. Even if Gale hasn't killed all those innocent children, even if he had stayed in Twelve and we had remained friends. The one I need, that keeps me centered and true and honest to myself, would always have been Peeta. I feel a need, body and heart and soul, for Peeta that I never felt and never will feel for Gale even if we somehow manage to reconcile down the road. And though I miss those moments hunting with my best friend, I wouldn't trade what I have now for what I might have had with him. Gale had his chance, before I was reaped. Before Peeta confessed his love or the Peacekeeper flirted harmlessly. Long before we weaved tangled lies of marriage and cousins and miscarriages, it was just me and Gale in the woods, taking care of each other and our families. What I told Peeta on New Year's wasn't a lie. Sometimes I wonder what if to occupy my mind, but I never want to find out. Not anymore.
For the first time in my life, I'm happy. I ache for Prim every day and I even miss my mother. I miss Gale and Madge and everyone else who haunt Twelve now, but I have Peeta. And I let myself be happy, even when my heart still hurts. I think this is what Dr. Aurelius meant about healing and moving on. I no longer suffer from the hunger I had my entire life. The hunger I have now is a whole new beast. A healthy one, I guess. One someone my age, who is experiencing love for the first time, is supposed to suffer from. It's scary and exciting and intimidating all at once. We are a team as we navigate these uncharted waters in the best possible way together. And in those moments, Gale and my family and the Capitol are the furthest things from my mind.