I'm dedicating this to Joss, because I love her, she's amazing :3

I've been walking around the dark streets of the Seam for hours on end. It's night, it's raining and the cold wind lashes at my face. I'm damp to the bone, my thin clothing sticks to me like it did on the wound of the burn.

The burns. The fire. The arena. The death. It's all too much for one girl to handle. And I find myself not handling it. Because I can't. There are so many things now that scare me to death, when once, they would have been my paradise.

Like hunting in the woods. With Gale. Shouting profanity deep into the thickness of the trees, where no one can hear. But they can hear. I'm sure of it. And it frightens me, because if they can hear me, then they can hear Gale. And his punishment would be far worse than mine. So I don't do it. I hunt still, I have to, but I don't venture too far. I can't bring myself to, and Gale doesn't understand why. I don't expect him to. I don't expect anyone too, except maybe Peeta or Haymitch. They know what I've been through. Haymitch more so.

Haymitch.

I'm turning into him, I'm sure of it. The early stages. Walking around instead of sleeping. Panicking at the thought of spending time alone in the dark. Seeing things that aren't really there; my waking thoughts being plagued by visions that I know aren't real, yet I'm still scared of them. The nights, well, the nights are unbearable. I gave up on the prospect of sleep long, long ago. I've woken up screaming far too many times for my liking. I've definately woken Prim up with my sobbing and screams, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if I had woken up Peeta and his family. It won't be long before I turn to alcohol. Before I'm spending night after night with Haymitch, drinking, just forgetting everything. Ruining my body with the poison he so lusts after. It seems like an easy way to cope. An escape route. We'll be partners, falling off the stage together, known as the drunken mentors of District 12. The laughing stock of Panem.

I'm passing Gale's house now, and my mind travels back to the day in the woods. The day he kissed me. The day he told me he loved me. The day I was so confused that I spent all night thinking about his words, the lingering feeling of his lips on mine. The kiss had felt good, but it wasn't what I was expecting. I mean, I loved him too. I still do. But not the way he wants. And he knows that, he knows he will always only be my best friend, the person I go to when there's no one else.

But I haven't been to him since.

And I'm not sure why.

There's no lights on in his house. Total darkness. In fact, it looks completely empty. But I know it isn't. I know in the third bedroom to the left on the second floor is two sleeping teenage boys. And in the room next to them, their mother and a third son. But no father. No, there's no father for this family. Not any more. Just like there isn't for mine.

I've walked through the Seam now. My feet are continuing forth, through the village square, past the Hob. Past the bakers, the butchers, and the Justice Hall. Past the building where it all began, where it all ended. Soon I'm crossing the green that leads to Victor's Village. My new home. Only, it doesn't feel like home.

Except I walk past my house. I walk past Haymitch's house too. Because I have realised something while walking through the Seam. No, if I'm honest I realised this the day Gale kissed me, but I'm only just acting upon it. I stand in front of the one house where he lives. Where the boy with the bread lives. What am I going to do? Knock on his door, wake up that witch of a mother at this unGodly hour? No, I am most definitely not going to do that. I make my way around to his backyard and fumble with the lock on his gate. It's a simple lock, but my hands are so numb from the cold that it takes me a while to undo it. I open the gate, walk in and look up at the back of his house. It's exactly the same as mine, albeit he has a tree. All my house has is ivy. I know which room is his. It's the only one with the light still turned on. He doesn't like sleeping in the dark either; just like Haymitch and I. But at least he sleeps. I shake my limbs, roll my shoulders and stretch out my legs, readying them for the upward climb.

I climb the tree much faster than I expect myself to and I'm now staring in through the window at Peeta. He doesn't look peaceful, but the nightmare doesn't look terrible. He isn't making any sounds, he's just grimacing. It reminds me of him on the train ride back home to District 12, when I revealed that all I'd done in the arena was pretend, just to keep myself and eventually him, alive. Heart break, that's what it is. I slip my nails through the crack between the window and the ledge and lift it slowly up, thankful it isn't kept locked. It isn't used regularly, either though. I can tell because it's stiff and is making horrible squeaks of complaint. Finally, I get it open enough for me to fit through easily, so I do. And now I'm stood at the edge of his bedroom, staring at a wide eyed Peeta who is now sitting up in bed fully awake and rather shocked.

I shift my feet nervously, looking down. Silence. I'm too afraid to look at him, even more afraid to speak first. So I don't. I think he realises this, because he clears his throat. "Katniss?" I nod and look up swiftly, avoiding his gaze.

"Um, hi." I decide I have to look at him, but I can't, so I train my eyes on the wall behind him.

"It's three A.M." I look at his clock. So it is. "What are you doing here?" He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if I had a learning disability. I don't. Finally, I look at him.

"I need to talk to you." I say,

"Can't it wait until morning?" He asks as I move forward and sit on his bed, crossing my legs. I shake my head.

"No. No it can't." More silence.

"What do you want to talk about?" He eventually says. I take a deep breath and I look down and start to play with the quilt.

"Idon'twanttopretendanymore." I hurry my speech and it blurs into one, so much that he can't even understand it and I'm forced to repeat myself.

"I don't want to pretend anymore. Me and you... Us." I peek up at him through my eye lashes, and what I see is what I'd guessed. Anger.

"You don't have a choice. You should have thought about it before you saved me. Do you want me to break up with you in our next interview? Is that it?" His voice is so full of bitter venom that it surprises me. "Do you know what they'll do to us? To our families? To Prim? Gale, even. Or don't you care?"

I'm angry now too, because I know what they'll do. I know exactly what they'll do. And of course I bloody well care. But he isn't getting it. I'm not here to break up with him, but I don't know how to phrase what I want. I doubt he'll even listen to me speak, anyway. So I don't speak. Instead I do the one thing he'll have no choice but to listen to. I grip his shoulders and press my lips against his. It takes him a moment to respond, but before soon he's kissing me back and has pulled me down on top of him, rolled over so we're on our sides. He understands now. I'm not here to break up with him. I think this actually the first kiss we have shared that hasn't been in front of cameras. And, honestly, it feels a lot better.

He pulls away and looks at me, his blue eyes warm as they stare directly into mine. "Katniss..." He begins, but determined to say what I came here to say, I cut across him.

"I don't want to pretend," I whisper, "because I want it to be real." His arms crush me gently against his body, and I find my eyes welling with tears as I bury my face into his shoulder. "I love you." I say softly. This time, I mean it. I'm not pretending anymore. And he knows it.

"I love you, too." He replies. I know he does. He isn't pretending. He hasn't been pretending for eleven years now. I sigh. I should probably go. Back home, back to my cold bed so my mother and Prim don't wake up and find me missing. It worries them, even though they know full well I can take care of myself. I start to untagle myself from him but his arms constrict, holding me tighter, refusing to let me move just an inch. I had forgotten how strong he was. "Just where do you think you're going?" He asks. His voice has changed, it's no longer the soft caress it was earlier, it's now pained and rough.

"Back home, Peeta?" My answer sounds like a question, for I'm confused. Why has become like this? He shakes his head.

"No. You're staying here." It's a command, and when I try to object, he brings a finger to my lips. "I just got you Katniss, I'm not letting you go that easy. Not again. Okay?" All I do is nod and I feel him relax immensley. I rest my head down onto the pillow and he pulls his duvet around us. We stare into each other's eyes for what seems like eternity, until I feel my eye lids droop.

"Peeta..." I mumble, already feeling myself slipping away. He makes a small murmuring sound of acknowledgement, so I continue. "What if you parents wake and find me here?" By parents, I mean his mother. I'm sure his father won't be too bothered about it. He likes me. I hear him chuckle lowly.

"That's their problem. We're engaged now, so it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Besides, this isn't the first time we've slept together." His voice has gone back to the soft carass that it was earlier and he places a kiss on my forehead. "Sleep now, love."

As my eyes succumb completely to the darkness, ready for the first night with him since the Victory Tour, two thoughts run through my mind:

Peeta doesn't want to the lose the girl on fire.

I don't want to lose the boy with the bread.