Rocket
Katniss had woken up in the middle of the night. She was certain it would be because Peeta was having a nightmare, but it was far worse than that. When her eyes fell on Peeta sitting up right in the bed beside of her, his hands buried in his hair, gripping it tightly, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was muttering things to himself. He was having an attack.
Katniss felt like her heart had stopped for a moment. Peeta had been doing so well. He hadn’t had an attack in weeks. Now here he was, in the midst of one of the more severe ones, where not only his memories were fuzzy, but he was seeing things as well.
She sat up too, looking over at Peeta. She wasn’t sure how to handle this. She hadn’t been alone with him during one of his more severe attacks before. The ones he had since returning to District Twelve were mild, ones that only caused him to question memories.
Katniss caustiously reached out a hand to him, putting on his shoulder. But it wasn’t there for long. Peeta pushed it away, scrambling to the edge of the bed. “Go away. You hate me anyway.”
Katniss felt a pang in her chest. What had they done to him? He would never be exactly the same again. This would always happen. He would have attacks where he would have to try and sift through memories, and decide which ones were real, which ones were fake. His Capitol-induced memory tonight was that she hated him. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
Katniss slowly crept up behind him on their bed, placing her hand on his shoulder. She wanted so badly to comfort him, to make him feel better, but she had no idea how. Not really.
“I don’t hate you, Peeta,” she whispered. She reached her hand up and ran her fingers gently through Peeta’s blonde locks. She was pleased when he didn’t tense under her touch, but closed his now glassed-over blue eyes, and relaxed. “That isn’t real. That’s what they wanted you to think.”
Peeta seemed to be coming back to himself now. Not real. That seemed to do it. His vivid blue eyes snapped open, they were that perfect crystal clear color she loved again. He seemed to realize what had happened all at once. “I pushed your arm away. Did I hurt you?”
He sounded really worried, like he actually thought he had caused her harm. She was still running her hands through his hair, trying to keep him calm. “No, Peeta. I’m fine. Even if you had, it wouldn’t have been your fault. I know that.”
Peeta didn’t seem to pleased with this answer, but he had already caused Katniss enough pain for the night. He shifted his head to where he could bury his face in the crook of her neck, his lips lightly grazed her skin. Goosebumps appeared to envelop her entire body at this simple contact.
“You love me, Katniss, real or not real?”
“Real,” she replied without hesitation, and she placed a kiss on the top of his head.
-Taken by Haymitch Abernathy, who had made it a nightly routine to check on the both of them.
I just wanted to say this is beautifully written. This should’ve being the ending to the mockingjay, This is amazing.
