I rock back and forward on the carpeted floor beneath me, biting my lip. I taste blood, but at least it's my own. I sit by his bed, staring at his sprawled out body as he trembles in sleep. It's the middle of the night, I've been here for two hours at least and I still haven't told Peeta what I came here to. I may be here after dawn before I do.

So this is what he looks like when he's sleeping, I think. He trembles slightly, not dramatically like when he sometimes has seizures, but shivering like he's cold. "My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realise you're here." His words rattle through my brain, I'm sure they wouldn't apply now. That if he were to awake to the sight of me, he would feel anything but relief. I am probably the person that provoked the nightmare he is having now.

I think about our last kiss, I think about how I left him in the clock arena, I think about his steady arms wrapped around me on those nights on the train. I think about the last time I could truly save him and how I probably never will again. I think about how the kisses in the last arena felt, how they never satisfied me, they left me craving more, but I may never have more.

Every kiss he gave spiralled into an airborne knife that pierced my heart so heavily that any confessions could only ever egress as nausea.

I gather every ounce of courage I have remaining. I edge closer to his bed, so my lips are by his ear. "Peeta," I begin. I shall tell him while he sleeps, I hope that somehow my words will reach him. "I need to tell you something," he stops trembling slightly, I hope he's listening, but at the same time I hope he doesn't fully awake. "Kind people have away of rooting themselves inside of me and staying there. You did that the instant you threw me that bread. Since then, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind..." I fumble for more words, not as smooth with them as Peeta once was. "So when we went into the games, I just knew that I had to save you. That if I let you die, I'd never be able to forgive myself." I feel like leaving it there, running away from his bedside and sprinting back home, but I still haven't reached the point I came to make. "Those kisses in the last arena, they made me feel something stir deep inside of me, they made me want another." I swallow hard, trying to wrap my tongue around the words I struggle so much to say. "I liked kissing you," I finally explain. "And now I'm scared. I'm scared because the Capitol has taken you away from me and I can't seem to get you back!" And that's when my voice breaks. "What hurts more is the traces of the man they left behind. Just to taunt me with what could have been mine." Tears flow and I sprint for the door.

I run out of his front door, closing it firmly behind me. The cold air laps at my face, whipping my nightgown around as I run back down to my house, tears stinging my eyes as I go. I fly into my house, and slam the door behind me. Part of me hopes that Peeta heard my words, but another is too terrified to face that he did. I plod upstairs to my bedroom and find myself staring out of the window. I can see Peeta's bedroom window from mine, his curtains are closed, but a warm light has lit up the room behind them. He must be awake. I see him now, his silhouette walking around, running his fingers in his blonde hair, his hands over his face. I'm sure I can see the muscles in his back shifting even in the shadow of him. Maybe he heard. And maybe I've confused him even more.

I climb under my duvet and will myself to sleep. Darkness pulls me under, drowning me in a traumatic nightmare, stirring me in to hysteria, with no arms to hold me when I wake.

Katniss was here last night, Real or not real?

It seemed real. But so do the nightmares that consume my mind in sleep. Everything she said, it is everything I've ever wanted to hear. It must have been a dream, Katniss would never utter words that hold such an emotion.

A dream... But I swear I could feel her breath tickling my ear when she spoke.

I clear my mind, as I drag myself out of bed. I head over to my bedroom window, mesmerised by the new born sun this morning, the bright orange glow of my favourite colour. I remember most things about me, about my life, about the people around me. Except Katniss, she confuses me more than anything else, there are memories I can't make sense of, and I don't think the Capitol touched them. Nights on the train for instance, when I held her close. The feeling of her skin against mine in the frightful darkness, and feeling her breath so close to my lips I could swear she intended on sealing hers with mine.

Her feelings for me are unclear, they always have been. She told me that she needed me, but what did that really mean? What does she need me for? Maybe she said it out of pity. Maybe. Probably.

I look out of the window, I can see Katniss' bedroom window from mine. I can see her figure stirring behind it before she tares open the curtains. Her wavy hair falls over her shoulders, shorter than it once was, broken where the fire singed it off. Her grey eyes are wide and alert as always, they scan the view out of the window before they meet me. I feel like running away, ducking, hiding behind the curtain, but it's too late, she saw me. My eyes meet hers apologetically, as if I've committed some unforgivable crime by looking at her. She smiles timidly, her frail hand appearing in the air next to her face, she waves shyly. Is she waving at me? I wave back before snapping away behind the curtain.

It's been four months. Four months since I planted those roses for Prim. That was the last time I saw Katniss face to face, she looks well now, before her hair was matted in clumps over her face, her eyes vacant and lost. Seeing her smile, if only slightly, fills me with content, a foreign, distant feeling.

Today is full of nothingness, as always. The first couple of months after my return, Greasy Sae came to cook for me twice a day, but now she is adamant that I can cope on my own. I miss her company though. Another lonely day awaits.

As I slip into a small chair in the living room, I sink into the depths of a misty daydream, so vivid, it's like I'm almost there. The sun is almost blinding as it beams down on my scarless skin. Weightless clouds waft through the air calmly and grass of the greenest kind surrounds my feet. I feel happy, at peace. I stare down at my hand where I clutch a beautiful bouquet of pink and white flowers among wild onions. The scene is vaguely familiar, it's only when I see him that everything finally becomes clear. A young boy stares at me expectingly. His pale skin, fresh and glowing in the warm, balmy air. Strands of blonde hair fall over his face slightly and his blue eyes gleam in the day light. My chest aches and my knees are weak. He is beautiful. He is Peeta. Only not Peeta, this Peeta looks healthy, unmarked, boyish, and... Angry.

"It was all for the games, Katniss! The way you acted." Now everything is so clear, we are on our way home from the 74th Hunger Games. The day I broke Peeta's heart. His voice cracks when he talks, he turns to walk away. I try to run after him, but I can't. Of course I can't, it's a flashback, not a second chance. I cannot reverse what has already happened.

I clear my mind, trying not to think about all of the mistakes I've made in the past, only to think about Peeta again. This morning, I saw him through his bedroom window, looking at me. Maybe he knows. Maybe he knows that I came to him last night, maybe he knows how I feel now. Maybe he'll visit today, and maybe I won't have to sleep alone tonight. Maybe I will finally get a happily ever after, but maybe I won't.

I probably won't.

Buttercup, who has been nuzzled on my lap, springs down from his settlement. He begins to nose at the letterbox on the door, purring and springing, trying to communicate in his own little way. "What is it you stupid cat?" He continues to purr at the letterbox. I walk over to my front door, to find an envelope peeking out of the gap. I take it curiously, and find myself rested on the plump chair again. I tear open the letter eagerly and begin to read.

Dear, Katniss

I'm just writing to say that I hope you are well. I've been missing you a lot recently, this old house is hollow and lonely.

I've written this letter so many times, only to rumble it up and throw it away. I've promised myself that I'd send this draft.

See, the thing is, whatever kind of friendship we have, I don't want it to end this way. After everything we've been through, I don't want to die alone without haven again spoken to the girl next door, who has saved my life numerous times. I need you. You know that. You once told me that you needed me too, does that still apply now? I know I can never be forgiven for the things that I have done to you...

My tears start to flow heavily, "the things that I have done to you..." He's talking about the hijacking, what the Capitol made him do to me. It pains me that he believes that in any way that was his fault. I wipe away my fallen tears, and continue reading...

...but I hope that somehow we can move on. Please don't isolate yourself from me. If we can't be anything else, let us at least be friends. I don't want to lose you from my life, stay with me?

Love always,

Peeta

I stare at his cursive handwriting, mesmerised by his words. Suddenly I spring off of my chair, consumed with a feeling I can't describe. Like a butterfly who has finally been released from its cocoon. This feeling is so foreign, all I want to do is run. I sprint out of the door, letter in hand. The fresh breeze whips my hair back from my face. My shirt flapping in the wind. I feel so alive, like I could jump of a cliff and survive because my wings would save me. I run, until I realise where I'm taking myself. I land at Peeta's doorstep, I ring the doorbell before I know what I'm doing.

When Peeta appears in the door way, he looks so much like the boy in my flashback earlier today. He no longer has that clouded look in his eyes. His skin not as sallow as it used to be. His face lightens up when he sees me. He is beautiful. The last words in his letter come back to me; "stay with me?" It would seem we've switched roles. I smile at him.

"Always," I say.

~ He guys, don't mind 19 y/o me fixing 14 y/o me's grammar mistakes😅 I'll just be floating through here for a bit trying to make improvements! I'm over the moon with the responses to this story and want to do my best to make it the best I can for you all!

If anyone has any suggestions or anything that they think this story is missing, or would be better with, please get in contact through my messages and I will be in touch shortly!

Happy reading! ~