The Hunger Games: Continued

The Contrast Between Good And Evil

Katniss' POV

In this moment he doesn't exist. The boy with the tortured blue eyes and tortured, beautiful soul. The boy with the sunken skin and the venomous words, the scars that cut deep into the depths of everything he's ever been and will ever be. The boy who visits me from time to time, who hates me, despises me, even. The boy who my love for is not requited. He doesn't exist, not in this moment. For everything that has been and will be does not exist, for the world has stopped rotating and the breaths of life around us are no longer present. All I know is the warm breath of the man in front of me, tickling my lips, I do not even know my own.

In that moment he is all that exists. The boy with the innocent blue eyes and radiant, beautiful soul. The boy with the rosy cheeks and words that are so emotive they chill me to the bone, the kindness that roots from the depths of everything he's ever been and will ever be. The boy who loves me, adores me, even. The boy who my love for will never die. Only he exists in this moment.

With everything that is and everything that is not, I can taste the anticipation in the room. For the boy who is the very contrast between good and evil ponders what good he can teach and what evil he will let slip. The creature I now possess shall be influenced by its surroundings, be connected to the arms it's held in. This is the human purpose, the only one we know of, to survive, to carry on, to bring new life to the world. I can sense that Peeta fears he will mess this up.

He does not say a word, not after the words "I'm pregnant." Began to float around the room in awe like the first and last words ever spoken. However he had leaned his forehead against mine and closed his beautiful eyes, leaving me with a nagging anticipation for them to reveal themselves again. He breathes. This is all I am aware of. I breathe, I know that I do, for I am still alive, not because I have payed any attention to anything but the feeling of his presence.

"Tell me again." He breathes. Peeta does not speak it, he truly breathes it. "I'm ready this time." He finishes. He's in shock. Perhaps I sprang the news on him too urgently.
"I'm pregnant, Peeta." I say, delicately this time, for the last was a newsflash. He sighs, a happy, relived sigh. He smiles, a cocky, proud smile. His eyes glimmer. He composes himself.
"Okay." He says. That's all. He takes me in his arms, a strong, heated embrace, that is slightly too tight for comfort. He takes my head in his hands and kisses me, a passionate, deep kiss, that is slightly rougher than his usual.

I know that inevitably Peeta will begin to panic about the birth of our child, and that I will start to tremble with fear. Today, however, none of those things occur, because we are too overwhelmed to think about anything but the excitement.

The world has stopped for a day. All that exists is him. He is all that I see.