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Peeta brought Katniss a primrose every morning. He’d either be in the living room of her victor’s house, waiting for her to wake up or standing outside her door after walking over from his with the flower in his hand. But one morning he didn’t.
Katniss woke up late, though she had hardly felt rested. The nightmares never ceased. When she didn’t see Peeta sitting in his usual armchair, she called to the door. “Come in, Peeta!” Her voice was hoarse. It always seemed to be.
The door didn’t creak open. It didn’t thud behind Peeta’s shuffling footsteps like it should have. Nobody wished her a good morning and nobody left a yellow flower in the vase by the entryway.
Katniss walked over to the door and opened it. She blinked back at the bright sunlight. Despite the warm weather and sunny skies, Katniss hardly left the house. (She only went outside when Peeta forced her to walk over to Haymitch’s house to make sure he hadn’t drunk himself to death.) Staring out at the empty stoop, Katniss’s heart leapt in her throat. She felt sick. All the instinct worries for Peeta’s safety that she had in the arenas came back to her. She forced herself back inside and sat in the armchair that Peeta always did. (It had a slightly broken footrest that he liked to prop his prosthetic leg up on.) She ran her hand over the fabric of the chair. Katniss knew she would have to go over to his house.
Katniss didn’t have anything to bring Peeta, so instead she took the time to braid her hair and put on her father’s jacket. She wanted to look like she hadn’t just woken up and immediately rushed to him. She needed him, and he knew that, but Katniss wouldn’t let herself look weak. That side of her was saved only for dark nights when the nightmares were too real and Peeta was right there.
When she knocked on his door, it opened inward with her minimal force. She walked in and saw Haymitch sitting outside the door to Peeta’s bedroom. He was nursing a half empty glass of some sort of alcohol and gingerly touching a gash on his forehead. White impressions of someone’s grasp lingered on his wrists. Katniss kneeled down next to him.
“We’re fine, sweetheart.” he said. His words weren’t too slurred, so he hadn’t been drinking for long.
“What happened?” she asked, glancing at the closed bedroom door.
Haymitch shrugged. “Bad morning.” He raised his cup to his lips but his hand was shaking. Katniss pulled the glass away from him. He sighed. “Fine. He got mixed up. Woke up thinking he was back in the Games. Threw some stuff then forgot things again, and he got angry, scared. Boy was going through it. Now I think he just feels bad because he won’t let me in.”
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“A few hours.” Haymitch grunted and stole back his drink.
Katniss stood and gently tapped at the door. “Peeta? It’s me, Katniss.”
There was no response from the other side but Katniss turned the doorknob and let herself in. Peeta sat on his bed against the wall. His knees were brought up to his face, which he hid under his hands. One pant leg was loose and empty below his knee as his prosthetic leg was discarded on the floor. He rocked slowly back and forth. Katniss tiptoed in and sat on the other side of the bed. She tapped his knee. He flinched. She pulled back.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. Haymitch can’t have been too helpful.” she tried to joke.
Peeta just kept rocking.
“Peeta, it’s ok.” She didn’t say ‘you’re ok’ because she didn’t really know if he was. “We’re safe. The Games are done. The Capitol is gone. We’re almost alone here in District 12. The place you grew up. The place we met. The place I fell in love with you.”
Peeta stopped rocking but he didn’t look up.
“Your favorite color is sunset orange. You love to paint. You bring me flowers every morning. Can you tell me what type?” Katniss said.
“A primrose. Like your sister.” Peeta mumbled.
Katniss swallowed back a sadness. “Good.” She’d been sad long enough. She’d been too sad to see what was really happening to Peeta. It sickened her that Haymitch knew what to do but she didn’t. She was supposed to be the one in love with him. But she didn’t handle him in the hardest parts. She just talked him down.
Peeta brought his head up. “I didn’t bring one this morning. I forgot.” Peeta recoiled at the word ‘forgot.’ He almost seemed to hate it.
Katniss was glad to see him looking at her. She’d missed those eyes. “What happened today?”
Peeta shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Haymitch told you.”
Katniss nodded. She never wanted to lie to him. She sat there, close enough to touch him. But she didn’t. She didn’t know if he was ready.
He reached out to her instead. He grabbed her hand. “I hate it. I hate that I ever thought I hated you. I hate that my instinct is to hurt. I hate that sometimes I can’t fight it. I hate that Snow took so much away from me. And I hate that it’s over but I still can’t get it all back.” he told her.
She looked at his watery eyes and squeezed his hand. It was the most she had ever heard him say ‘hate’ and truly mean it. “I can help you remember.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks, but it’s not that I’ve forgotten all of who I am. I’ve forgotten how to feel… how to feel like something is true.” he stammered to explain. “Every moment that I live now, feels like it could all be fake. I worry someone made me have these memories and I’ll be back in the Capitol. And when I snap, and I remember fake things, it hurts me that that is real. It actually hurts in my chest that there’s a possibility I don’t know anything.” Peeta pulled away his hand to wipe at his eyes.
Katniss pulled his hands away and put her hands on either side of his face. “Peeta, look at me. So much has happened but we’re still here. Together. You’re not alone. And this probably will happen again, but so be it. There are still a few things that you can always know are true. One, you are a sweet, sweet soul who might be the full reason I am alive today. Two, you are brave and do everything you can each day to stay who you are. And three, I love you and you love me.”
Peeta nodded and put his hands over Katniss’s. “I’m sorry you had to come here, Katniss.” he apologized.
Katniss shook her head. “I’m sorry that I’ve taken for granted everything that you do for me. You drag me out of bed each morning and find me a flower but I don’t do anything for you.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing. It works for me.” Peeta said.
Then, he leaned against the wall to get out of the bed and put on his leg. He grabbed Katniss’s hand and pulled her to his window. He pushed the curtain aside and opened the window. Just outside was a flower box, overflowing with colorful primroses. He plucked one from the dirt and tucked it behind Katniss’s ear. She chuckled.
Katniss took in all of Peeta. There were dark bags under his eyes and tear trails left on his face. His hair was messy and his knuckles were bloody like he had punched a wall (which he had). He looked frightened and brave all at the same time. He wasn’t the scared baker’s son that had taken pity on her all those years ago and he wasn’t the killer he had been in the first arena. He was Peeta. The whole Peeta. And Katniss wanted him just the way he was.