A/N: Hey everyone! sorry it has take me a little while to update, I've had writers block! anyway sorry this chapter is so short, like I said, writers block! Hope you enjoy, reviews are appreciated

DISCLAIMER: I don't own or claim any rights to the hunger games trilogy.

CHAPTER 4

When my eyes snap open my voice is dry and hoarse from screaming, but Peetas arms are their to comfort me, and so are his soft I look at his complexion I notice he only just woke up too.

It's been a few weeks since the Gale incident, and my voice has recovered considerably well, much more quicker than in district 13.

"Good morning." Peeta whispers running his fingers through his messy blonde hair.

"Hi," I whisper stretching my arms and legs out.

After a minute to two, both of us recovering of the particularly challenging night before, Peeta says, "Suppose we should get out of bed."

I swing my legs over the bed and force myself up to my feet. I throw on my jumper and pants, not bothering to shower. I simply cannot be bothered, I feel nothing my numbness and sadness ever since the strangling, it brought out a depression I thought was forever gone. But it has returned and all I can think about is returning to be with Prim again.

Peeta walks over to the shower and places clean clothes and towel on the white porcelain sink beside the shower. I watch carefully as Peeta organizes himself, noticing everything about his body, the definitions of his muscles down his arms, and the scars that riddle his back and mid section, and the pinkish pattern, his scars are much more prettier then mine. It suddenly makes me feel self conscious and I pull my jumper tighter around myself.

"Katniss?" Peeta questions snapping me out of my daze.

"Yes?" I look up, his expression is filled with worry and concern. I cannot stand his pity, and I'm irritated about it.

"Have you taken your pills?" he asks gently.

I don't answer, just look away. Of course I haven't taken them, I haven't even touched the bottle. Why would I? their made to replicate happier hormones, I couldn't live a life knowing my happiness was nothing but synthetic.

Peta crouches down beside me taking my hand into his, I snatch it away quickly. "I don't need your pity." I mutter.

"Katniss," he begins softly, "I'm not giving you pity, I just care for you. You know that."

I let out a sigh and rationalize myself. It isn't pity, I'm just frustrated with myself that I can't and don't want to accept help, I have never been good at accepting anything from anyone. "I know." I whisper.

"I just don't want to take them." I add on.

"I know Katniss, but you need too, I don't want to either but I still do." He says softly.

I always forget Peeta takes medication, I don't know why. "How can you be okay with it?" I ask curiously.

"Okay with what?" he replies confused

"Knowing that it's fake." I awnser simply.

"What's fake?" he replies even more confused now.

"Your mood, your happiness?" I say sadly.

Peeta takes a few seconds trying to figure out what to say, I almost think it isn't going to until he speaks, "It isn't. Sort of anyway, I think they encourage you too but only you can truly make yourself happy, and besides to be completely honest with you Katniss, I don't feel happy a lot of the time, its too hard too when you have a past like ours, but you can't stop trying. I lost people too Katniss, I know what it feels to want to be with them again."

"How do you survive it?" I say now taking his hand into mine this time.

"I have you. i take my medication, and I paint and I bake." He says softly.

"Come downstairs and I'll make you something to eat, then you can have a shower and we can go visit Haymitch," he says with encouragement.

I follow his instructions, it's the least I can do. I don't have any appetite but I eat for Peeta, and shower too. I even take the little blue pill.

After I am dressed I attempt to tackle my hair. Mangled and has a straw like texture from it been neglected for weeks. I try to pull and sort it, but it isn't any use, it refused to budge. I may as well shave it.

"Would you like me to try?" Peeta pipes in, surprising me, I was unaware he was close by.

I don't say anything but pass the brush to him and drag the white stool that sits in the corner and prop myself up onto it.

Peeta slowly work through the knots, he doesn't pull or tug at them like I violently did, but just slowly parts strands with his fingers. I let myself enjoy the feeling of Peetas hands rush through my hair, although I know I will feel guilty for enjoying something later. But for now, it feels good to feel good.

When I look up into the mirror I see Peetas face hard in concentration, His blonde hair sweeping across his forehead just above his eyebrows. His jawline is strong yet gentle. As if one of the stylist had hand crafted it to perfection, but I know it hasn't. It has always been the same. Beautiful.

His hands so delicately work through my hair, I just want them to caress my face and body. But I would never be so bold to ask Peeta to trace my skin and tell me thing's will get better, no matter how bad I want him too.

Once Peeta finishes with my hair he just continues to run his fingers through it, and eventually braids it for me.

"Thank you." I say softly.

Peeta doesn't reply with words but just squeezes my hand instead, and kisses my cheek, he turns to move the stool back but I lock my lips onto his and feel instantly safer. When we break apart I let out a huge breathe I didn't realize I was holding. Peeta gives me a calming smile and we decide to make our way over to Haymitchs'.