The Hunger Games: Continued

Real

Peeta's POV

It takes me a moment to process.

She's kissing me.
Katniss Everdeen is kissing me.

Shock freezes me at first, but only for a heartbeat. Then I kiss her back. Of course I do.

Desire. Relief. Happiness. Things I thought I'd lost forever. I never want this moment to end.

It's been so long since I've felt whole. So long since I've felt happy.

⸻

Katniss' POV

The kiss is soft and electric. It's fire and rain. It feels both young and ancient.

Alive. That's how I feel. Alive.

Love flows between us, back and forth, like we are one current instead of two.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead against mine.

"I love you more than anything in the world," he whispers.

I love you too, I think. But the words still won't come.

⸻

Snow falls thick outside, the sky darkening. Peeta and I curl up together in bed, not sleeping — just resting. Doctor Aurelius always says we need to rest, even now, months after the war.

"What do you want to do?" Peeta asks.

"We could play real or not real," I suggest.

It's not just therapy anymore. It's become a game. A way of relearning and learning each other all at once.

"I'll go first," he says. "You still have the pearl I gave you in the Quarter Quell. Real or not real?"

I hesitate, surprised. Has he seen me holding it? Running it in my palm when I thought no one was looking?

"Real," I say.

"Why?"

"Because it reminds me of you. I used to carry it all the time in Thirteen. It's in that drawer." I gesture to the bedside table.

He nods, satisfied.

"Okay, your turn."

I pause. I know almost everything about him, or at least I think I do. Then the question comes.

"How many girls have you ever loved?"

The moment it leaves my lips, it sounds ridiculous.

"Just you," he answers without hesitation. "There were other girls. But not love."

"How can you tell? When it's love, and when it's not?"

"Because when you love someone, you'd do anything for them. You'd die for them."

"And you'd die for me?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"Any day," he says softly. Then, with the faintest smile: "But by the looks of things recently, I'll be sticking around."

I smile back.

"You can ask me," I say.

"Ask you what?" He looks confused.

"How many boys I've ever loved."

He tilts his head. "Alright. Katniss, how many boys have you ever loved?"

"I have loved before," I admit. "But I've never been in love. Not until I fell in love with you."

His face softens. His eyes search mine. Curious. Hopeful.

"You love me," he whispers. "Real or not real?"

"Real."

I kiss him. And the whole time, one thought beats through me like a pulse:

I love him. I love him. I love him.