The Hunger Games: Extended Epilogue

Chapter 20: Articulation

"You are up awfully early. And look, you even managed to clean yourself," he says laughing at his own joke indicating how dirty I let myself become before either he forces me to bathe or I find myself laying in a tub like this morning.
Honestly, I barley do anything around here to need to shower. So, I just let it build up until my Peeta can't even kiss my cheek without questioning my cleanliness. Though it's never mean, I can't imagine Peeta ever being mean. The only questionable memories I have to this was when he was under deep hijacking and we have yet to face another episode.
Finally I answer, "I was thinking." Which is true, I was, but I know I could have thought of something better to respond to because now I have to again answer to
"About what, my love? I mean," he smiles, "if you don't mind me asking."
His big eyes look through mine and even though he is playing around, I know he truly does want to know. But I can't tell him.
How can I tell the man I love about the affections from another man whom also loves- or loved me?
I mean, Gale and mines relationship was no mystery. We cared for each other so much, both on a friendship and romantic level. However I have never felt the love in his voice, the pain, the overwhelming emotion. Well, not until I read the letter that still hides in my bide side drawer.
This love that beamed through his letter is something I see everyday shine through Peeta. Warmth, dedication, affection. And I love him. So that letter doesn't even matter, it's just a paper that reveals a painful past.
I'm just starting to find my happy place and Gale isn't going to ruin anything else. What Peeta and I have is real.
That's why I answer his question of my thinking with, "Us."
Peetas face lit up so bright that it shines brighter than the sun peaking over the meadow into the window.
"Us?" He sounds ecstatic. "And," he clears his voice, probably from choking, "what about us Katniss?"
I'm terrible at words, I can never articulate my emotions, not like he can. The words only get jumbled up, and I choke out something half as meaningful as I intended.
So, I lean forward and kiss him. Not as passionately as last night, but enough to get my words expressed through my lips to his without even speaking a word.
His smiles beams just as bright and then says, "Hurry, get dressed. Meet me down stairs when you are finished."
He kisses my cheek and walks out.