The Hunger games - I'm still breathing (Everlark)

Chapter 16

Peeta's been avoiding me ever since he found out what happened in town. He won't let me tend to his head injury, nor will he accept any of my mother's old medication. He still stays in my house but he won't sleep in the same room as me. He's up at the crack of dawn, leaving me breakfast and disappearing for the day, not returning till late at night.

I'm at a loss, not knowing what to do with myself. It'd be stupid to go to the woods with a sprained wrist. If I were chased by something, there would be no way of climbing a tree with only one working hand. I decide to pay Haymitch a visit but after ten minutes of being in his drunken company and listening to him tell me 'I told you to be careful', I can't stand it anymore. I retreat from his house, only to be welcomed back at mine by the hollow rooms.

I make my way up to Peeta's art room, where he's currently been sleeping. A mattress is laid in the corner, the sheets unmade and tangled. I look round at his paintings, recognising a few of the ones that he showed me last year on the train when we were on our victory tour.

One painting stands on the easel in the center of the room; a sheet hiding whatever masterpiece lies beneath it. Curiosity leads me to it and causes me to lift up the sheet. I wish I hadn't.

A small gasp leaves my throat as I stare into the face of a monstrous version of Peeta. His eyes are nothing but black orbs, large and lifeless. His mouth hangs open, revealing razor-sharp teeth. Blood froths from the side of it and dribbles down his chin. Bruises cover every inch of his skin that is on show, making the already haunting picture appear darker and gruesome. His arms are outstretched, hands poised looking for something to wrap around. Probably my neck.

I drop the sheet and stumble backwards on to his mattress. Is this what he sees when he looks in the mirror? Or is it how he thinks I see him? I curl into a ball, wrapping myself in Peeta's sheets. I close my eyes and try to imagine that it is Peeta's arms wrapped around me instead.

I must fall asleep because when I open my eyes again, the world is dark outside. I sit up, feeling more groggy and tired now than I did before I slept. I check the clock and see that it's 11:30, Peeta should be getting home soon. I plan to wait here and ambush him so that I can maybe have a conversation with him that lasts longer than the 30 second ones we've been having this last week.

I don't have to wait long before I hear the front door opening and his clunky footsteps coming up the stairs. I run my fingers through my hair, teasing out the knots and hoping that my bed-head doesn't look too unattractive.

He opens the bedroom door and flips on the light switch. The brightness causes me to squint and my eyes have to take a few seconds to adjust to it. When he spots me, he freezes and a saddened look falls over his face.

"You can't be in here, Katniss," he sighs.

"I'm not going anywhere until you've talked to me, Peeta," I say, getting to my feet and moving closer to him.

"Well fine then, I'll go," he says stubbornly, turning back towards the door.

"Peeta no, please..." I manage to squeak out before a sob escapes from my lips. All the emotion I've been holding in over the week seems to burst inside of me. I can't do this without Peeta; I'm not strong like I used to be. I need him.

Peeta wavers in the doorway, as if unsure whether to make a run for it or to give in and come and comfort me. I step back, lowering myself on to the mattress once again. I place my head in my hands. If Peeta's going to leave then I don't want to be the one to watch him go.

He must give in because I feel him settling beside me and his arm snaking around my back. I fall into his chest, feeling relieved to be back in his arms. My tears leave dark spots on his t-shirt while his fall in a steady stream down my neck.

"I can't stay, Katniss, I'll only hurt you again," he mumbles into my hair.

I look up and grip on to the top of his t-shirt, gaining his full attention.

"You have to stay with me, Peeta! Don't you remember, you promised me! You said always, do you remember always, Peeta?" I cry, trying to reach the part of him that is hiding away from me.

He just shakes his head, letting the tears fall and pointing to my wrist.

"It was an accident, Peeta, you didn't mean to and I know that you won't do it again," I say, starting to get frantic.

"But what if I do do it again though, Katniss? And what if I do something worse next time? What if I killed you?" he asks, his voice on the brink of becoming hysterical.

I get up and walk towards the covered canvas. I rip off the sheet, shivering again at the haunted Peeta that meets us both.

"This isn't you. Whatever image you have of yourself in your head, it's wrong, Peeta," I say.

"That's exactly what I am, Katniss. I'm nothing but a monster, I shouldn't be allowed near you," he whispers, his face down cast.

I walk back over towards him and sit in front of him, cupping his face in my hands.

"You're not a monster, Peeta. You're amazing in every single way, in more ways than I can count. I wish I could be more like you," I smile, kissing him on the nose.

He says nothing, still staring at the ground, the tears silently flowing.

I summon up the courage to repeat the same three words that he never fully heard last week.

"I love you."

This gets him to look up; his blue washed-out eyes stare into mine in disbelief.

"You love me?" he asks.

I nod.

"Not Gale?" he asks again.

I laugh.

"No, not Gale. It's you Peeta; it's always been you. Is that so hard to believe?" I question him, raising my eyebrows.

"A little," he laughs back.

"Well believe it," I say, pecking him on the mouth.

"What if I hurt you?" he asks.

"You won't, I'll help you okay?" I promise, kissing him on the mouth again. "You're not the monster you think you are."

"I love you too, by the way," he says between kisses.

"Good. For a minute there I got worried that this was all very one-sided," I say. I feel his smile on my lips.

"I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you too," I reply.

Each kiss lingers a little longer, awakening something deeper inside of us. The hunger that I felt on the beach in the Quarter Quell returns with a pang. I crave his touch, his skin on mine.

It's there, with the moonlight streaming in through the window and the stars glittering down on us, that we become one. Two broken, desperate beings united together by something beautiful and magic.

After, when he asks,

"You love me. Real or not real?"

I tell him,

"Real."