I wind up dropping bread with Mrs. Everdeen and Prim who gives me a hug. Katniss is off hunting, as to be expected. Gale will be down in the mine by now and they have some sort of arrangement where she hunts and gives the food to his family given he can't be out there in the woods all the time now. I can't imagine what it must be like being down there twelve hours a day, six days a week for all the issues our family had there was the benefit to being born in the Merchant district and never having the risk of working down in the mines.

"Two weeks, huh?" Prim asks, "Excited?"

I give a slight laugh, "Not exactly."

"Yeah," she nods, "I can't imagine all those people staring at you all the time and then my sister..." she trails off.

"Prim come help me with something!" Mrs. Everdeen calls from the other room, "I'm sure Peeta has things to do."

Prim gives me a hug and I see myself out, and trudge the couple of houses down to my own property. Things to do...sure...

The Capitol interviewers always want to catch up on everything we're supposed to be doing and there's a chance they'll want to talk to us individually when they come to do the pre-interviews before the Victory Tour starts; but there are things that wouldn't go over well like the fact I sleep in my living room because the house is too big for me, or the venting paintings but cheery things those they love: landscapes, flowers and Katniss. They eat up pictures of Katniss and it's not like I mind drawing pictures of her either.

I open the front windows to let the air in before I start to sketch. Her face, in profile, braid curling over her shoulder. I surround her with a necklace of her namesake flowers and then other local blooms fill the remainder of the picture. I'm not sure how long I've been working when Katniss calling my name stops me in the middle of a stamen. I go out into the hallway and she's there, looking uncomfortable in a wool coat.

"I knocked," she says, "You didn't answer."

"I'm mapping out a painting," I explain.

"Oh," she nods.

"They prefer the happy ones and everything."

"Right."

"Was there something..?" I can't help but trail off when she turns and for a moment her pose mirrors the painting, "...you wanted?"

"Thank you for the bread."

"You're...welcome but you didn't have to come all the way over here and thank me for that. It's no problem...I'm happy to do it. I..."

"You what?" she asks, stepping further up the hallway.

I'm hesitant to let her all the way in to the living room; she might not take well to her portrait. She doesn't seem to see good in herself, always, and she would likely be irritated I'm drawing her anyway.

"You just—you don't have to thank me every time..." we're going round in circles. I don't understand this constantly owing me for bread. I owe her for everything I have—everything I am, and my mother—why did I even go up to the bakery?

"What was that look for?" she asks.

"Why do you think you owe me anything?" I demand. It comes out harsher than I meant but all this stumbling and fumbling has finally broken me. We've been on glass and eggshells for months. Is this why Gale is angry all the time?

"Peeta-"

"No, Katniss-" I move away from her, and wind up in the living room, "I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you—there is nothing you need to thank me for. I can't-" She gets me all in knots. My words gum up, 'for once' Mom would say. She's echoing all through me right now and I can't stand it. I shouldn't have gone over there, "I can't keep doing this. We're going to be on a train together in two weeks. In six months we're going to be mentoring tributes-"

"Did you draw that?" she points to the canvas.

"Change the subject why don't you?"

"Did you?"

"No, someone broke in to my house and drew a picture of you-"

"Don't be like that!" she snaps back.

"You're ignoring my point. How am I supposed to be? I'm sick of this!" I wave a hand between the two of us, "this—this..."

"This what?"

"This! Everything is so—broken."

"I'm broken?" The look on her face stabs me.

"No!" Way to go. Brilliant, "No, our relationship."

"We don't..."

"I know we don't have that sort of relationship. The whole arena versus reality thing is something that was made painfully clear to me months ago."

"Peeta-" she reaches for my arm, and I want to pull away, but at the same time I can't, "I am sorry about that. I didn't mean-" she pauses, holding my hand there and sighs deeply, "There are so many things..."

"Then explain them to me."

She releases my arm and turns away.

"Right! Great!"

The door bangs open, "Are you serious right now?" Haymitch demands, "Her I expect this from! Not you! You're supposed to be the calming influence! What the hell is going on?"

"Butt out, Haymitch!" Katniss says at the same time I tell him that it's not his business right now.

"That's where you're wrong, kiddies," he says, "Nice sketch," he waves towards the canvas by the window, "Capitol will be all over that once it has color."

"Not helping, Haymitch." I tell him as Katniss clenches her fists and looks towards the door.

"Look, you two are always my business and for the rest of my life you will be my business whether I want it or not, and having a screaming match that they can probably hear down in the bottom of the lowest mine shaft is definitely my business. The Capitol cameras will be here in two weeks you need to get it together! They're expecting love birds so you need to stop this nonsense," he points to Katniss.

"He started it this time!" she points to me.

"I'm sorry for trying to get you to talk to me about...anything," I retort, "I mean it's not as if couples do that ever."

"Peeta, please, just stop," Katniss says.

She reaches for me again but this time I pull back, "No, you stop. I'm just—I can't right now. I'm leaving."

"This is your house-" Katniss points out.

"I don't care. I'm going!" I walk past Haymitch and go out the front door but once outside I don't know what to do with myself because I've just made things so much worse.