Three in the Morning

I Remember

Katniss

I know Peeta. I'm sure of it. His face and name are all too familiar for me not to. I don't remember ever conversing with him so much as I do those eyes. They're blue and soft like placid water.

He hands me a hot chocolate, a large hot chocolate, and I study him as he gingerly sips his own, trying to figure out just where I know this guy from.

It's as if I've known him my entire life, yet we're just meeting today. Does he know me?

"Hey, I got us one of these cookies to share, too," he says, breaking a giant chocolate chip cookie roughly in half and holding out the slightly larger portion to me.

It's that gesture that hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm taken back to, what, fifth? Sixth? Seventh grade? I don't know, but I do know that one week, my mother couldn't afford to buy my sister and I lunches for school, so a blonde boy I now know to be Peeta had handed me half of his sandwich that Monday. And the following four days of the week, I think he packed either an extra piece of fruit or baked good just to bring over to my table. My sister had plenty of friends that their lunches she could pick off of and no one would question it. But me? I only had my best friend Gale Hawthorne. Gale was just as poverty stricken as I was. Even worse actually, because his family had nearly twice as many mouths to feed, whom he always put first, making sure they each had meals for school before himself. That being said, he rarely ate lunch. I ever so vaguely remember sharing a little bag of Peeta's strawberries with him one day.

"Katniss?" says Peeta.

He's still holding the half cookie in front of me.

"Thank you," I tell him.

The words run deeper than I'd care to admit to him. It's a thank you for more than just that cookie.

We sip our hot chocolates over small talk for quite a while, until I can make out a faint tinge of pink pigmenting the sky.

I decide I like Peeta.

"Hey," I drag out the y, "we went to school together, right?" I ask, despite being sure of the answer.

From behind his paper cup, I can see a large smile spreading across his face.

"I thought you didn't remember," he confesses.

"Well, it took me a while. We never really talked,"

"Which is why I decided it was now or never tonight," he confesses, "I wish I-"

We're interrupted by the vibration of his phone on the table.

"Hey, they're letting us back in the building. My roommate just texted me. He says they're not letting us in our apartment though. He's staying with his girlfriend a few blocks away, I guess I-"

"You should stay with me," I blurt out.

"You'd let me?"

"I mean, it's not like I haven't known you my whole life, apparently," I say, and he laughs.

I stand up and push in my chair.

"Let's be on our way, then," I announce, and hold the door open for Peeta.