Today is what I call a 'bad day'. Not for me, but for Katniss. Somedays she laughs and smiles and forgets all about her, but today she is thinking about Prim. I can see it in her vacant grey eyes. On especially bad days she tunes out and refuses to acknowledge anyone or anything - Today is one of those days.

We sit staring out of the large window in Katniss' study. The rain patters off of the glass filling the silence around us. Katniss hasn't spoken all day and I haven't pushed her to, I know it's nothing personal. Earlier, I tried to comfort her with soothing words, but I realised there is no point in that, it won't bring back Prim. So instead, I talk to her casually, as though nothing is wrong. I stare at the droplets of rain on the window and ponder for a topic of conversation to distract her. "When I was little I used to think the raindrops were dancing or racing each other." I laugh. "But I would become so attached to a certain drop that I'd be sad when it rolled away, that's silly isn't it?" I laugh, almost waiting for a response, but I don't get one.

I stare at her, looking for some kind of expression, but there isn't one. Her eyes are empty and lost, like her soul has left her being. I sigh softly. Bringing her back to her senses is beyond my capability. "Katniss..." I don't wait for a response before I continue. "I know it's hard. I'm not gonna tell you it's okay, because it's not. I know you miss her and I'm sorry that I can't bring her back." I hope she's listening. "But... Prim would want you to be happy, she'd hate to see you this way. It's alright to be sad and angry. But you are not betraying Prim by being happy now and again."

I stare out of the window. I listen to Peeta's words. He's right. God, why is he always right. Being happy seems like the most appealing option. But it's the hardest to maintain. Sometimes being sad is what I do, because sadness is the easiest road to travel.

But it's not just me anymore. The boy sitting next to me knows who I am. Really and truly. I sit next to him, a scar-ridden woman drowning in the blood of her loved ones. I'm insane, I'm all sorts of damaged. But he loves me. I know that he loves me, because even now, he looks at me the same way he always has - with desire and curiosity. No desperate affection mingled with trauma clouds his vision anymore. He does not mind if his love is not requited anymore, as long as he can be here.

"She crept up on me,"- That's what Finnick had said about Annie. At the time, all I could imagine creeping up on me was President Snow. But I realise, Peeta well and truly crept up on me. There was a time where my affection towards Peeta was purely a repayment for the bread. I felt like I owed him that, at least. Then there was a time where my affection towards Peeta was keeping a sparking rebellion at hand. But now I've realised that my affection towards Peeta is by no means forced. The way I feel about him is more than I care to say, because to be honest, it terrifies me.

Sometimes when he stands a certain way, or makes a joke, or his shoulder brushes me as he walks by, I feel a tingling sensation on the back of my neck that runs all the way down my spine to gather in the pit of my stomach. Not quite like the hunger I felt on the beach, but similar. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him now, if I would feel the same way I felt on the beach. Although, I don't think I could initiate such an action, not right now.

"But you are not betraying Prim by being happy now and again," I continue to listen as he talks.

I know she's listening, I can tell by the way her eyes dart to the corner of their sockets trying to watch me, without really looking.

And then, out of impulse I offer her the first sort of physical affection I've offered her since my return. I slip my hand into hers.

Then for the first time all day,

She looks at me. And she smiles.