Katniss POV- (The next day)
"Here's my list. Did you get a chance to finish yours?" Peeta asks me softly, handing me a slip of paper with about 40 names on it. I nod and hand him mine. His dad, brothers and even his mother complete the list after an abundance of tributes and victors and people we've met along the way. After he reads my long list, he looks up at me and nods. "Who should we start with?"
I shrug, "Do you want to go in order of their deaths if we can keep up?" Peeta nods his head and takes a seat by me. He gives me a reassuring nod and I hand him the first piece of parchment paper and I take a deep breath as we finally begin our fresh start. We have to let their deaths go but keep their memories alive if we really want to live our best lives for them. First on the list and first in our memory book; my father.
We sit in silence for a minute until Peeta glances at me, "Do you have any pictures of him?" Peeta asks me.
I look at him, "Yes, there's one in my room. Do you want me to go get it?" I ask him, feeling stupid I didn't think about it before. It would've gotten the ball rolling but I had forgotten that Peeta has no clue what he looks like.
"Sure, I want to get the drawing perfect for you." Peeta says and I get up. I drag myself upstairs and into my bedroom. I start doubting this process and think of telling Peeta that we shouldn't even do it. However, I want to and he seems to like the idea too. I'm just afraid it'll be too hard for us but who knows? Maybe I'll feel differently after their page is sealed? Maybe it'll take weight off both of our shoulders? Even if it won't take away the longing or guilt we feel. I take the only picture I have of my father left out of my drawer full of sentimental things I still have. Things like the perfect little pearl and the locket Peeta gave me in the second arena, the one with Prim, my mother, and Gale in it. I try to ignore it's significance to the boy who gave it to me, at least in this very moment. The words he spoke. How he tried to convince me and how I stopped his words with my lips. It only upsets me to think about that moment we shared. I'm really all he has left and to this day, I still need him. It's ironic though, I've lost every person in that locket, except for it's original owner. I shake away my thoughts and take the picture downstairs with me and hand it to Peeta. I sit down next to him. "You look a lot like him." He tells me quietly, studying the photograph and then glancing at me.
I smile sadly, "I wish you would have had the chance to meet him." I say, my throat feeling dry.
Peeta looks at me and frowns, "I wish I could have met him too." He says softly and looks back at the picture.
"Your mother told me a lot about him. She told me you got a lot of his personality and I can see it from the few things that my father's said about him too." I remember that his father knew my mother and probably knew my father too. He told Peeta about my parents once. Peeta told me that his father use to date my mother. Then she met my father and it was over between her and the Baker. It's funny how life has a way of working things out I suppose. Maybe Peeta and I were meant to be together all along?
"I don't know, maybe. I'm more like him than my mother, that's for sure." I admit. Peeta smiles at me. "But I can't sing, that's the only difference, I guess." I say.
Peeta shakes his head, "Katniss, I've heard you sing before, even if we were only five. It was really good." He must not remember when Beetee interrupted Peeta's Capitol broadcast with my singing but I am not going to mention it.
"Well, that was a long time ago." I whisper.
Peeta nods, "Well, like your mother with your father, it's what made me fall in love with you." He says openly. He's always being open with me over that particular line. 'I'm in love with you, 'I fell in love with you.' He mentions it all the time to me, which makes me feel guilty because my response is nothing more than ignorance or a curt nod.
"You're just saying that." I conclude, shaking my head at him.
"I'm not just saying it. I've told you before. Nothing could make me forget that day, not even the Capitol."
I look up at him and then back down, "We better start this book." I say, wanting to drop this conversation completely but honestly expecting him to try and continue it, but he doesn't. He sighs and nods his head, knowing that I don't want to talk about it anymore.
Then he takes his pencil and carefully starts to sketch an outline of my father. "Does it look right to you?" He asks after about thirty minutes of complete concentration and put forth of skill. I'm amazed but one thing is off. It's the only way I would like anyone who sees this book to see my father.
"Yes, but could you change his mouth?" I ask him.
Peeta gives me a look, "Um, sure. What's wrong with it?"
"Will you make him smile?" I ask him softly, hoping he can.
He nods, "What did it look like?"
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, my imagination taking me back to the morning before my father died. That was the last time I remember being completely and truly happy, and seeing my father's smile as he told us goodbye before he left for the mines, never to return. "Kind of crooked, but not in a funny way but a soft, beautiful way." I say softly, wishing so badly to open my eyes and see him there, sitting next to me. But he won't be. A few minutes later, I open my eyes and see him. He's not here, he's right before my eyes on the page and I see my other favorite person sitting next to me.
"It's perfect." I say to Peeta and see his own smile that makes me happy too and remember it's the closest thing I'm going to ever get.
"How did you get it so spot on?" I ask him in disbelief.
"You know, I just drew your smile on his face." Peeta tells me softly, looking lovingly into my eyes.
"I must have his smile too then." I say, loving Peeta's drawing.
"You know that it's my favorite thing about you." He says softly, shyly.
"What?" I ask him, confused.
"Your smile. Even if it's so rare." He chuckles.
"There's not much to smile about these days." I say truthfully and sigh.
Peeta sighs, "Yet, I manage to see one at least once a day." I feel my face grow warm and I look down, not being able to help but to produce a smile. He's the only reason I smile these days. "See that? That is my favorite thing." Peeta says in awe.
"Stop." I say, embarrassed.
He grins, dismissing my embarrassment. "Here. You can start writing now if you want." Peeta says, handing me the paper and dulled down pencil. I start with his name. I write it my best and most gentle handwriting. And then I start copying down things about him that I want to remember forever and that I want anyone who reads our book to know about my father. How much he loved my mother, sister and I and how good he was at hunting or fishing, or even making my mother happy. How his teachings helped me keep our family alive and also helped me survive the Hunger Games and keep Peeta alive. I include how beautiful his voice was and Peeta asks me to include how the birds fell silent when he sang. Somehow, it quickly becomes therapeutic for us.
We manage to get through twelve people that day but not before sealing each page with our tears. I wish that everyone was here to see what Peeta and I have accomplished. To live in a world without fear of the things they died from. Even though a lot of the people who died were not nice to me, for instance the Careers in the 74th Games, they were just trying to survive. They didn't deserve to be in the position they were in. Not tributes from the 74th Games or even from the first and definitely not in the 75th. None of us deserved it and it's the most unfair thing I can think of. I just wish they were all here to live in a world without fear of the Games but they're not. They're dead because of Snow and some because of me.
We have both held up pretty well today, Peeta and I. Lots of tears and pauses held us back but it wasn't too bad. I know as we get further into the making, we will cry more and more. We haven't even made it to little Rue yet, which I know is going to destroy me all over again. "It looks really good so far." I tell him after we decide to call it a day with the book.
His blue eyes find mine and I stare right at him. "Definitely." He says.
I blink my eyes and look away, realizing how heavy they feel. I glance at the clock and see it's only nine which is pretty early for me but I am exhausted. "I need to go to bed." I say, feeling emotionally drained from today, even though I feel much better no doubt.
Peeta looks me over, "Eat first. I'll go fix something up then you can go to bed." He says without a response from me and jumps up.
I roll my eyes as he rushes into the kitchen and starts preparing a quick meal for my sake. "You know, I'm not all that hungry." I say, walking into the kitchen after a few minutes of wondering why on earth he's doing it.
He turns and faces me, "You still need to eat. If I don't make you, you're not going to do it." He says kind of curtly. His comment makes me mad and I can't help but to blurt out something equally as stupid.
"Is that why you asked me to live with you? So you could babysit me?" I ask him kind of defensively, feeling a little irritated with him all of a sudden. It's a familiar feeling I have for him. I haven't felt it since the first Games when I was convinced he was just being nice to try and kill me but I was wrong, he was doing the exact opposite.
"No, but you shouldn't skip a meal because you're upset." Peeta says.
I feel my chest tighten, "I'm not. I'm just not hungry."
"You haven't eaten all day."
"It doesn't matter." I say truthfully.
"Why?"
"Because you shouldn't care." I mumble, feeling stupid for overreacting. We were having such a good day together, considering.
Now, he has an outburst of anger that makes my whole body tense up. "You know, I have every right to care."
"Why?"
"Because your my best friend and I'm still in love with you. Does that not mean anything to you?" He asks me, real, utter hurt crossing his face.
I stop and think about it a second and it does mean something to me. Actually, it means a lot considering our circumstances. Besides, he's never called me his best friend before. "Yes, but I don't see how you could love me, especially after how much I've hurt you." I say.
Peeta shakes his head, "We've had this conversation way too many times and I'm getting tired of it." I don't say anything as I see him breathing heavily, glaring at me. "It doesn't matter what happened in the past. We may both be different people but I will never stop caring about you." I don't respond, just stand there angry with him for no apparent reason at all. I'm so ignorant and stupid. Why of all things, would I get mad at him for this? It's embarrassing. "This is stupid. You don't have to eat if you don't want to. Go to bed if you want. I just was trying to make sure you are well taken care of, especially under my roof." He says.
"I'm sorry. I just don't like people catering to me and it's how it's been since we met." I sigh, "And I know if no one does it then I won't do it myself but sometimes it's what I want. I just need to be thankful that after all this that someone still cares about me, especially since that person is you." I say, still angry. Only at myself though.
Peeta shrugs his shoulders, "It's because even after everything we've been through and all these years, I still really love you. And everyday when we are together, I just want the best for you. I just keep falling deeper in love with you, even if I know you may never feel the same way, I can't help myself."
I feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach and I immediately feel every last drop of guilt that's been haunting me the last few years pang me right in the chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I look down and awkwardly stand there in shame. I am so stupid and ridiculous. In the past, I thought that Peeta, my Boy With the Bread was plotting to kill me. I tried so hard to hate him for it. Since, I've broken his heart and hurt him physically, mentally and emotionally. Now he's here, after all of it, taking care of me. Something he never signed up for and never had to do, especially now. I've realized it many times before but until this moment, I never really realized how truly special I am to him. It's not just a game for him or something he says. Peeta's love for me is the most pure and true thing that I've ever witnessed and I'm angry at myself for the way I treat him. "I am going to go to bed." I say softly, not having the audacity to look him in the eyes after that embarrassing outburst on my part.
"Goodnight." He mumbles, not sounding angry with me at all now as he turns of the stovetop and shuts the pantry door. I give a nod and walk swiftly into the living room and rush up the stairs, tears streaming down my cheeks. I feel bad for Peeta but I'm the reason he's suffering and I could end it all in a matter of seconds. He's living with me and taking care of me and the least I could do is love him back. I do, but he has no idea and I'm not sure when I am planning to let him know. Or what will happen when it's said. I'm still not sure I could even hold up my end of the deal, that's why I haven't committed.
I lay there for hours, not being able to do anything but cry and get more upset with myself as the clock ticks. Eventually, I hear Peeta open the door and see him peak in at me. I bring my head up completely, wanting him to know I'm still awake, hoping he will talk to me. "Oh, I'm sorry." He whispers embarrassedly and starts to leave.
"No, it's okay." I say, my throat sore from crying.
He sighs and steps back in, "Can we talk?" He asks, seeing right through me. Here he is, concerned for me, when he's the one who should be upset with me and not vice versa. I don't say anything but I don't refuse. Peeta takes it as a 'yes' and comes over, sitting on the edge of the bed, right next to me. I look at him. He looks troubled.
"Are you okay?" I ask him.
He laughs a little, "I couldn't be happier but I'm really confused, I'll tell you that much." Peeta says and I know I'm the reason he's confused.
"I'm sorry." I say softly.
Peeta shakes his head, "It's alright. If there's anything I've figured out about you, since I've personally known you, it's that you're just as confused as anyone else. And you don't do it on purpose, even if it feels that way sometimes." He says and I am glad he understands me, because I obviously don't. I look down. "But that's okay, I've survived worse. I think I can survive you too." I smile sadly at him and he pats my leg, "You better get some sleep. I know you've been in here crying."
I scowl, "It's because I'm frustrated with myself."
"I know but you shouldn't be. You're not hurting me until you do something like that so don't worry about it." Peeta says and it's like he's reading my mind.
"I feel like I do nothing but hurt you. Even when I do everything I can to try and avoid it."
"I know you've never hurt me on purpose, Katniss." He tells me, admitting that I've hurt him.
I sigh deeply and lay my head back on the pillow. "Don't leave until I fall asleep. Please?" I ask him softly.
He nods his head, "I won't go anywhere." Peeta whispers back to me and I can't help but to feel completely safe now that I know he's watching me. It's moments like these that remind me of the comfort and balance he gave me during some of my worst days of the Games. I close my eyes and just as I'm escaping, I feel Peeta's lips barely touch my forehead and his hand pat mine as he leaves me here alone.
I'm awakened by flesh-eating mutts and Peeta, a mutt himself hours later in the first nightmare I've had in quite some time. The mutts are the faces of everyone we let go today, even my father. Peeta was thrown in for good measure, to assure my terror. Right as I open my eyes, they disappear and I'm left breathlessly wondering if my screams woke him. I anxiously wait for his appearance, hoping he will come check on me and I can ask him to stay with me and he will, but he never comes in that night.