The strong curve of his jawline. The bright blue in his eyes and the long eyelashes that shadow them. The large muscles in his back. The crease between his eyebrows when he concentrates. His smile. He is beautiful.

He is mine. I am his.

As the days go by I start to notice little things about Peeta I haven't noticed before. I stare at him longer than I should. I shiver every time his skin is on mine. Is this what it feels like? Being in love? I am no longer just Katniss Everdeen, I am part of Peeta Mellark and he is part of me. We are two pieces in a puzzle and only together can we be whole.

I wake by his side. No nightmares, I tell myself. Peeta lays next to me, his blonde hair messy and falling over his face, his mouth slightly gaped, his eyes softly shut. I can't help but sheepishly smile, because the image is so perfect and wonderful, I suddenly feel giddily lightheaded, which is stupid, but I can't help it. Never have I felt like this before and I want to feel it forever.

****

I slip out of bed with Peeta still sleeping and tiptoe down the stairs. I want to find his painting, the one he's been working on for months, the one he's been trying to hide from me. I decide that searching for it whilst he sleeps is my best option. The painting, whatever it may be of, is most likely hidden in the study somewhere, because that's one of the only rooms in my house I rarely occupy and where Peeta does his paintings.

I sneak into the study and begin my hunt. I come across two paintings I haven't seen before, one of Buttercup and one of the meadow, but the one I'm looking for can't be any of these. I see the sunset that I painted, it looks so out of place among Peeta's masterpieces, but he says he loves it. Next, I see glimpses of other paintings in the corner, but I don't approach them, because I know what they are of. They are of the games, of his hijacking. Peeta says it helps, painting them out. He once told me that he can almost feel the painful memories traveling down his arm and through the paintbrush, like he's draining them from his mind.

Then I see it. In the corner behind a tall closet. It's so beautiful. It could be a photograph. My hand involuntary snaps over my mouth and I fall on my hands and knees. I crawl towards the painting, astonished and crying. I run my hand over the golden frame, Peeta has placed the art in.

Staring back at me is my little sister. It is her. From the frills on her socks, to her blonde pigtails. She is Prim. Lady, the goat stands next to her with a blue ribbon around her neck. Prim smiles widely, her hand rests on the goats back. I take in every intricate detail of the painting and I cry. I cry and I cry, making the occasional inhuman squeal.

"Katniss?" I hear him ask from behind me. Oh no, I think. I should never have came looking for the painting. Peeta ought to be pretty angry with me. I decide there is no point in trying to hide the canvas behind the closet, or wiping my tears, it's too late.

I turn to face him. "Peeta...I didn't meant too, I was just..." As soon as I try to explain, I realise I have no reasonable explanation. Peeta walks towards me, before sitting next to me on the wooden floor. "It's alright," Peeta starts. "It was supposed to make you happy. You're not happy." He says, but I am. I am.

"I am happy," I begin. "I'm happy because the painting is beautiful, and it's of Prim and now I can see her everyday. I'm happy because it was you who painted it, and you're my favourite person in the world." I say. You're my favourite person in the world, I rethink, it's true, but that would've been a perfect moment to tell him that I love him. But the words just didn't come out.

Peeta takes my hand in his and rubs his thumb over my palm, comfortingly. Every nerve in my body concentrates on where his skin touches mine. I stop crying. My eyes meet his and stay there for a long time. Everything I'm feeling disappears. In the moment I forget about the painting, I loose myself, as I'm consumed by another emotion that I can't quite place. Peeta swallows hard, and his eyes drift away. He never does this, usually it's me who looks away first.

I'm deluded, perhaps a little insane. I dive towards him and I kiss him full on the lips.

😂❤️