Wildest Dreams- An Everlark Oneshot

Wildest Dreams Oneshot

He said let's get out of this town, he said that once we were gone everything would be alright and we could start again, fresh, and most importantly to him, together- where no one could break us apart.

Drive out of the city and into the countryside- that was our plan, to escape any of the tortures the place that used to be home gave us.

Away from the crowds he was convinced that we could be together, start a family of our own- but deep down, I didn't want that. I didn't want what everyone thought inevitably would happen, I didn't want Gale...I needed my dandelion in the spring. I needed Peeta.

I thought heaven can't help me now when Gale first turned up at my doorstep after the rebellion. I was frail and living my life separated from everyone, separated from myself. I so badly needed him there, but at the same time I couldn't even bare to look into his grey seam eyes without the excruciating pain over what he did seeping through my veins and scorching my heart. So, I closed the door and decided to do the one thing I knew I knew I had to do- rekindle what I had with Peeta...that was seventy five years ago now.

Nothing lasts forever, and now, gripping onto Peeta's hand for probably the last time, I regret the time we wasted- the time where I'd distanced myself from the one person who truly understood me. Whenever I was with Peeta, the only thing he'd ever have to do was hold me close, whispering sweet nothings into my ear for me to recover off of a nightmare. A few words from him, and his lips meeting mine would send me higher than I had been ever before, with him I felt invincible, as if anything was possible, because that's just how strong the hope he gives is.

But this is going to take me down, I know it will. I know that without him, I'll fall deeper into myself, a hole so deep not even our children can bring me out of. Seeing them every day will poach my heart tremendously, especially our girls' eyes and how they gleam the same as their fathers. And our boy, I'll never forget how blonde his curls were before they started to turn silver...just like Peeta's. Our children who can't fight the demons away quite like Peeta can.

He's so tall, and handsome as hell in my mind. Even after seventy five, seventy six, years my Peeta is still the same gorgeous, blonde haired boy I fell so deeply in love with. I remember watching the sun glisten on his eyelashes as they turned golden brown from the sun's last rays of its long day. Watching him rest now in the hospital bed, the heart beat monitor slowly beeping away, I can't fault his beauty- not even with the grey whisps which tumble down from his head- I love him, every inch and I know it's going to be so hard to say goodbye.

He's so bad but he does it so well. I remember thinking that the night after our first few times we spent together. He made love to me in such a gentle, honest and true way which still makes me tingle even now- remembering how much care he took with me is something I'll never forget. But, one night I wanted to give something back to him- I wanted him to fulfil his dirty minded desires- that was the night he blindfolded me, tying my hands together with a satin orange ribbon...no cuffs- the connotations of them to us were too brutal. At first he was careful, until I gave him permission to pleasure himself, and me in the process- he was rough, but I'd never felt a sensation like it in my life.

I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is that he promises he'll never truly leave me. I couldn't bare him going and him not telling me the most important six letters of our love- the six letters which warded away the nightmares on the victory tour... the six letters which brought my Peeta back to me.

"Say you'll remember me", he murmurs softly as I clutch on to his hand, kissing it over and over again as the tears spill down his knuckles.  I tell him that it would be an impossible thing for me to ever do- he means too much to me, I could never forget him. After all, he's the reason my heart keeps beating. I squeeze his hand gently as some form as comfort as I start to see his eyes glaze over with tears, tearing and tugging at my heart strings even more. I can't bear to see him in this pain, and the worst past is I can't make it go away.