Feb. 17th, 2013

fuelforthefire: (intense)
I know that I have my own house, but there are nights that I don't go home. It isn't far from Katniss or Prim's, I chose that purposely. It's not close like it had been in Victor's Circle either, and I miss that. I miss the security of it, of having her and her family nearby. I miss having Haymitch too, crazy as it might seem some days. They've always had their secrets, their plan and their bond, but they're the people that managed to keep me alive.

It isn't just that. They were more a family than my own. She's more my family than that. She's more to me, even if I've never managed to make her see that outside of the Games. So here we are, something between friends and who knows. But in this place, this strange crazy place she and Prim are all I have.

Sleep isn't something that comes easy to either of us some nights. I've been on the couch, lying there awake, trying to not see the explosions in that sky whenever I close my eyes. It doesn't work, and I get up to ostensibly to get a glass of water, but really to check on Katniss. If I'm not sleeping there's a good chance she's not either, I think as I crack open her door.

She is sleeping, only it's not the good kind. Her sheets tangled into a ball from thrashing, she's making those sounds she makes when the nightmares get to their worst. Before she wakes herself up with it, the low panicked sounds that are so unlike anything else I've ever heard from her. Like the dreams have her cornered, like she's a wounded animal and they're going in for the kill.

It's been two months, but I've always woken her up before. I've stood in the door and called out her name low to try and not wake Prim. Not tonight. Tonight I need her too, padding across the floor to sit on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, Katniss," I say softly, brushing back her hair. If she wakes up and attacks me, it's my own fault I know. "You're having a nightmare."

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Peeta Mellark

January 2015

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