caecitate sent in ت our muses running into each other after not seeing each other for several years
Days seem to pass slowly from the time they had graduated. Like the way autumn snuck up, slowly with the chill wind in the morning and like a bust when suddenly one morning all the leaves painted the skyline with rich colors of red, oranges, and golds. But what was even more - the way after time the memory of those seemed to falter. The first to slip away was usually their voice, and it hurts because they always had the words to say. Then it was the way their hands felt. Soft, delicate but strong. The ones that were sought comfort in but pushed away. After that comes forgetting who they are. Were they nice and sweet, were they aggressive? Did they cry or were they fighters? But finally, the last thing that begins to slip away is them. What they looked like. It starts with the small detail, the fine lines of their jaw or the distinct hue of their eyes. Until finally, finally it's nothing more than a void of what they seemed to be and with the judgement of mind couldn't be passed for being them.
That's how it felt now, thinking about Peeta Mellark. It wasn't that they were close, per-say - but something about him seemed to carry so much more than the average nice guy who excelled in all his classes and brought cookies and cupcakes in for the holidays even when they were in high school. Katniss could remember that much, the baker -- the boy with the bread and his smile that seemed to shine brighter than the sun he always talked about. He even managed to find her soft spot for cheese buns and brought them in a time to share with her. Katniss hardly knew the words to say, but close to none thank you hardly slipped and it became clear who was invested in who.
Now, it was stupid to think of turning him down. Because time after time Peeta haunted her dreams. The way they do when it's too late to change history. A humble and noble man, Peeta joined the forces right outside of High School and left on a greyhound bound for no where in particular, as Katniss tried so desperately to find where he was and say goodbye. Thank you. A silent plea to ask him not to go. Because her mom's words finally sunk in. But arriving to the train station all she could see was the passing of windows and the lights of the greyhound bus. A blurred vision of blond curls that would soon be gone. You were just loving me after all
Sometimes she can recall his voice, the deep breathy laugh he'd do whenever she became screamish in biology cutting open the frogs -- though she was a hunter. And sometimes she'd catch his baby blues, the way they shined in the dim light of the gym where they had their first dance and an awkward kiss. Something Katniss wish she'd held on to, even now, even ten years later.
But all good things come to an end when there's push and shove. She pushed and he pulled but every time she refused to just fall into the arms that she craved. Stupid me, I can't believe I never knew. Because the whole time from day one to the graduation, Peeta loved her. Now he was tucked away in war and his mother seemed disinterested if he'd ever return. No news, no word of him. For a while there were whispers that Peeta could be dead, blown to pieces and never to be found.
Until today. The sun was rich and high over the plains of their stinky little home town. Nothing but the abandoned mines and a few factories to keep it held high. The hunting game was back, no more laws to prevent the free food Katniss still gathered from time to time in the woods on the border of the town. A durlap slumped over her shoulder filled with some squirrel and quail, heading off to the bakery that seemed so foreign now that a particular chubby faced blue eyed boy wouldn't bounce to see her anymore.
It should be easier, and in some ways it were. Instead of the few whispers between them of Peeta's well-being, they had all accepted the fate that maybe he was just gone in the dessert and lost. So with the loss of who he was and in her mind Katniss could coup a little better. Katniss bit her lip just before entering the bakery - something different than it had been before. The door flung open and with her head low she hardly noticed the foreign body in her way to the back door where Mr. Mellark stood at.
But contact felt like running smack into a wall head on. Broad shoulders and lean muscle tucked beneath a black tee shirt. A familiar husk of vanilla and for a second Katniss tried to push back the hope that it could have been Peeta. Mercury eyes noted the white cane, one of those often held by someone who was blind and suddenly she shot her gaze up to see the victim of who it could be. But the hushed silence of the bakery and the sudden hitched breath in his throat told it all too well.
Chiseled jawline, little blond curls sprouting back to life and the even breathing that left his parted lips. It was Peeta. This was Peeta. The man whom she fought so hard not to forget that had began to slip away. The only thing missing was the blue of his eyes, not milky white and the thought hardly crossed her mind that she was thankful for once. For the tears that seemed to fall.
"Peeta?" That choked sob is forced, and behind him stood his father and brothers, a reunion of a lifetime coming down like the moon and the stars crashing head on. "Peeta?" She asks again, more urgently, because this is some sort of dream. He finally registers her voice, the labored breathing and the way her voice is cracking like so many times he may have heard it before.
He doesn't say anything but stand there, a silent curse under his breath for not being able to see her. Did the girl on fire have a braid or was her tressles dancing down the muddle of her back? Was the burlap filled with prized kill or just something for them to eat? Those eyes, were they crying like day he caught her as the bus departed. Because unlike Katniss, his memory of her barely faded.
Not the way he looked like he didn't notice the way her lip trembled when he told her he was leaving for the basics. The lavender scent of her hair or the way her silver eyes shined on the dance floor all those years ago. During the war she was the only thing that had kept him alive, and anything he'd do to come back and try to prove his point to her if she wasn't already married to that Hawthorne boy.
Even with the loss of his vision and leg to the bombing that had made him a P.O.W he fought to remember the last silver lining of hope. Like the sunset colors on the hills of their little hometown. But if this wasn't sign enough, wasn't fate Peeta couldn't say what was. He could just see her, lips trembling as her hand reached for his face. The way she was conflicted - cry or laugh, because this sort of thing only happens in the movies.
But he remembered her course of action well, the way her cool fingertips brushed against his jaw and brought a wave of relief. "It's me," he whispers softly. Careful not to scare her as she explores this new Peeta, her fingers meeting the scars on his face from the explosion. Katniss however is relieved, touching him and like the fear he may slip like in many of her dreams she falls closer to him.
"You're alive" It comes out wrong, sounding like a question, an accusation but he knows what this means. There's a small clearing of throats in the bakery as Mr. Mellark and the older boys step back into the kitchen, and Peeta places a hand onto hers and notices that - thankfully - there is no ring. A little reassuring squeeze, the faintest smile twitching on his lips as he pulls her into a rather tight embrace.
"You seem disappointed." Dry humor but it must have worked, because against his chest Katniss is sobbing and laughing. Her hands find the little hairs that are beginning to grow down his neck and she holds him closer.
"You're an idiot," this time Peeta smiles a little bolder against her hair, and if this was the only thing to happen then he could die a happy man. Because dreams were made of these, and he'd hold on to this forever. The way he always held onto Katniss Everdeen. The little girl who had no idea the effect she could have on people.
