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Katniss had always been more of a thinker than a feeler. She’d process things and analyse them before she decided what to feel about it. Of course, there were a few exceptions to this, such as her father dying, and Prim’s reaping. But she considered those extreme circumstances.
This was not an extreme circumstance.
Whenever Katniss was faced with an issue, she would consider her options before she got emotionally invested in it. It’s a way that she… saves herself, in a way. Keeping her emotions to herself, so no one else could hurt them.
That’s why she was so logical. Some people described her as ‘emotionless’. That wasn’t the case, she just wanted all the facts first. It’s not that she didn’t feel, she just wanted to think first, and then she could feel.
When it came to Peeta, all she could do was feel.
Most of these feelings were about being confused, but still. She couldn’t form a coherent, logical, analytical thing about him.
She only knew what he made her feel.
In an attempt to list them; he made her feel hopeful whenever he was kind, he made her feel threatened when he showed just how good he was at lying, he made her feel good when he showed how much he loved her, and then made her feel cheated when he smiled at the cameras. When she brought all these feelings together to try and make sense of them, she found out she couldn’t.
Each feeling she had about Peeta existed despite the other, and neither the good feelings or the bad feelings overshadowed each other. They were just there, and she didn’t know how to go about them.
When she was with Peeta, her heart jumped, and so did her anger, and she lost her mind around him.
Her thinking, which is what she was supposed to be best at, was interrupted by a knock on her door.
“Katniss.” Peeta whispered from the other side.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. She waited for him to say something else.
“Katniss? I know you’re awake.” He continued, knocking softly again.
She sighed. She could try and sort out her mind later. “What do you want?”
“Um. To be invited in?” He paused. “Please?”
That little tone he had. The kind, meek, and sort-of-endearing tone he had when he said ‘please’. That’s what warmed her heart. And she didn’t know why.
“...Come in, then.” She acquiesced.
Peeta turned the knob and pushed the door open as quietly as he could, and his bare feet pattered into the room.
He was wearing his sleep clothes, which were just as bland as his day clothes, and his hair had been mussed up. It hung in front of his eyes, but not enough to conceal the rings of red around them. Her heart panged. The worry and stress must’ve got to him. See— that was it. Right there. She saw Peeta feeling bad, and reacted to it emotionally before she tried to figure out why he was feeling bad. That wasn’t how she usually operated. It scared her to no end.
“I, uh, had a nightmare.” He explained, standing at the end of the bed.
Katniss stared at him. She wanted to keep her distance from him, especially before the Games. He had requested individual training — that obviously meant she couldn’t trust him. She should send him away.
“What about?” She asked instead.
He made to talk, but he hesitated. He was staring down at his feet, mouth open as his thoughts presumably raced.
Katniss drew the sheets back, and shivered when the cold air hit her body. “Come here, Peeta.”
He perked up as if he had been waiting for that invitation — was he manipulating Katniss into giving up her space? — and slipped into bed eagerly. He brought sheets back over him, and wiggled slightly to get comfortable. It was not cute.
“I dreamed that I was in the arena, but I was being forced to fight people from District 12. My entire family was there. My brothers formed an alliance against me.” Peeta took a breath. “I know that can’t happen, but I can’t stop worrying that my family is going to get hurt by me being in the games.”
Katniss didn’t want to tell him that his family could very well be hurt. She’d never been one to avoid the truth, but she wanted to protect Peeta. Only to end up killing him in the arena, no doubt.
Not trusting herself enough to speak, she, in a moment of weakness, put her arm around Peeta’s shoulders. He leaned into her.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” He asked, softer than he had said anything else.
No, Katniss. Say no. You can’t get attached to him, that’ll only make him harder to kill. To spare everyone the heartache, send him away. Claim you can’t sleep with other people in the same bed. Goddamnit, Katniss, just for a second, think before you—
“Yeah. Sure.”
He sighed in relief, and Katniss felt she made the right decision. Even if she knew it was the wrong one.
“Thank you.” Peeta said, voice seeping with earnestness. “I’m not good at sleeping by myself. Cons of growing up in a full house, I guess.”
Katniss understood, even though her house was never as full as his. She found it hard to sleep when Prim was so much as out of her sight.
“I get it.” She said.
Peeta nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I’d stay up and offer to chat, but I think my need for sleep outweighs my fear of nightmares.”
Katniss could’ve laughed. “It’s okay. I’m not the chatting kind, anyway.”
Peeta huffed out a laugh for her, and she watched his eyes start to droop. She… didn’t even know what emotion this was now, but she felt the need to take care of him. A kind boy like him wouldn’t do well in the arena, and she didn’t think about his manipulative ability when the next question took over her body.
“Are you warm enough with that blanket?”
It wasn’t a serious question. In fact one might consider it small talk, polite and unassuming. To Katniss, the world was ending. Why would she ask that? Why was she trying so hard to help and protect the boy that was trying to kill her? Back in District 12, families had to share blankets, why was she even thinking about giving Peeta multiple right now? It wasn’t that serious. Seriously. She couldn’t even justify in her own mind why this scared her. Maybe because something like that might make Peeta think she cared about him— and she kind of did? She didn’t know what to think.
But she knew that looking at his tired figure, she felt the need to keep him safe. Even if they were going into the arena the day after next, and there would be nothing she could do to protect him there. She wanted to take care of him for the night. He had come to her, after all.
“Yeah. I run pretty hot.” Peeta said. “Goodnight, Katniss.”
Katniss nodded. “Goodnight, Peeta.”
He fell asleep within minutes. She laid there, facing away from him, and felt a whole lot of things she wished she didn’t.
She eventually fell asleep, and she woke up feeling warm.
Her arms had drifted during the night, and apparently so had Peeta’s, because they were both encircling the other.
This was extremely bad. It was terrible, in fact, how she didn’t want to get up. How she’d much rather than stay here and train for the Games. Even if those hours of training would end up costing her life, she didn’t want to leave the arms of the stupid boy with the bread. That’s what she felt.
But while Peeta was asleep, she managed to think rationally again, and carefully extracted herself from his arms. He stirred, but didn’t wake up yet. Good. She couldn’t get close to him while he slept. Well, she sort of did, physically. She pushed the feelings that came with remembering his arms around her away.
She kept her eyes ahead of her, and ignored him at breakfast. Even if it felt wrong, she knew it was right.
When Claudius Templesmith announced the rule change for the 74th Hunger Games, that’s when she allowed herself to look back.