She'd loved Peeta. Prim had never thought to hear Katniss admit that, but...she'd always thought it would be something that would happen. Back then, when they'd been trying to hijack him back. When Katniss had been so wrecked over him, to Prim's eyes. She'd always liked Peeta, because he'd done so much for Katniss, trying to protect her - how could she not like him? And there was a part of her that was happy he'd been here, to protect Katniss, to love her.
But he wasn't here any longer. And Prim knew what that must have done - what it must still be doing - to Katniss.
She squeezed Katniss' hand again, examining her sister's face closely, concern and care written clear across her own expression. "...Oh, Katniss."
Prim didn't know the half of it. How Katniss conned Clove into killing her, a desperate attempt to either return to Panem or to forget. But it hadn't worked and instead, instead she had been left without her song. And without Peeta. Only the haunting memories of the mural on her bedroom walls, the paintings he had done.
Especially the painting he had done of her. Effie had tried to hang it up once. And she had freaked out, been so completely unable to cope with seeing it. Herself through Peeta's eyes. She knew that he had loved her. But it had been something else entirely to see it reflected in paint.
She swallowed hard, not meeting Prim's eyes or reacting to the squeezing of her hand. If she did, she might break. And she had come so far not to break. Instead, she stared straight ahead, expression grim and stony.
"It was real, Prim. What was between us? It was real."
"I know." It was a reassurance that Prim was listening, that she was watching. That she could see that it was real from her sister's voice, her expression. She didn't know everything, wouldn't until and unless Katniss spoke about it, or other people did, but...
For Katniss to say she was with someone, to Prim, in the sanctity of the bedroom with no cameras watching or people listening in?
It had to be real.
"And if you ever want to tell me about it..." She'd listen.
She wanted to tell Prim so much. She wanted to tell her sister about that shift that had happened where she and Peeta had been childhood sweethearts, married and without a care in the world. No District 12, no Hunger Games, no hijackings, no death. She wanted to tell her about the mission Peeta went on and how damn worried she had been for his life, even though it had been utterly mundane. And how that had made her realize just how much she wanted him, even loved him. The way she had ruined the bakery trying to keep it running while he was gone. How she had tackled him to the ground in anger when he returned, only to wind up kissing him with more hunger than she had ever felt.
There was so, so much she wanted to share with her sister. Katniss didn't know how long Prim would be here, how long she'd have to tell her all of this. But the loss still seemed too raw, even with Sokka to help act as balm to the wound.
Prim nodded, though it was a bit awkward lying down, and she wrinkled her nose up because of it. It felt silly.
"Of course. We can talk about whatever you want whenever you want. We have time."
At least, they had time here. And Prim was trying to make the most of that, and trying to hold onto that. Because it was truly a miracle, when all was said and done.
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But he wasn't here any longer. And Prim knew what that must have done - what it must still be doing - to Katniss.
She squeezed Katniss' hand again, examining her sister's face closely, concern and care written clear across her own expression. "...Oh, Katniss."
no subject
Especially the painting he had done of her. Effie had tried to hang it up once. And she had freaked out, been so completely unable to cope with seeing it. Herself through Peeta's eyes. She knew that he had loved her. But it had been something else entirely to see it reflected in paint.
She swallowed hard, not meeting Prim's eyes or reacting to the squeezing of her hand. If she did, she might break. And she had come so far not to break. Instead, she stared straight ahead, expression grim and stony.
"It was real, Prim. What was between us? It was real."
no subject
For Katniss to say she was with someone, to Prim, in the sanctity of the bedroom with no cameras watching or people listening in?
It had to be real.
"And if you ever want to tell me about it..." She'd listen.
But she wouldn't make Katniss tell her.
no subject
There was so, so much she wanted to share with her sister. Katniss didn't know how long Prim would be here, how long she'd have to tell her all of this. But the loss still seemed too raw, even with Sokka to help act as balm to the wound.
"I do..." Katniss took a deep breath. "Later?"
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"Of course. We can talk about whatever you want whenever you want. We have time."
At least, they had time here. And Prim was trying to make the most of that, and trying to hold onto that. Because it was truly a miracle, when all was said and done.