A/N: This is my first time writing in English ! This is the first part to a story! I know the beginning and the whole background might sound confusing, but the next chapters will take place in the past.

The music is pounding in my ears, so loudly I can feel it pulsing in my veins. The numerous shots of Vodka I had tonight clearly won't help to tame my sure to come headache.

I have been sitting at this bar for the last 45 minutes, constantly pushing roaming hands and avoiding disgusting glances from men so old I almost feel nauseous.

I am drinking down what must be my 8th shot tonight when I feel him sit on the stool next to me. I don't have to look to know it's him, every cell in my body knows that he is here. Peeta Mellark.

Suddenly my hands are impossibly sweaty and I know the dizziness is not only coming from the alcohol anymore. My hands are shaking, and I hope I can still maintain my composure. I haven't seen him since I disappeared from his apartment that night. That damn night when I ruined every little chance I had to be happy, and to feel good again. When I walked down his street that night, I never looked back. But all I could think was how much I loved him, how I loved him so much that I almost hated him for it. I hated the way he made me feel, and how vulnerable I felt when we were together.

He says it's a beautiful thing. Something about being pure but if there is anything that I am not is pure.

I am deadly, and he deserves more than me.

How he even found me in this place is a pure mystery to me. And why he would want to see me is even more confusing. After everything I did to him, he could only hate me.

But I never could, I owe him my life.

'' I like your tattoo ''

His voice suddenly brings me out of my reverie, and I quickly turn to look at him. Nerves be damned. Staring in his eyes right now, I feel so many emotions rushing back to me, engulfing me like a wave. I have been feeling so numb, I almost want to welcome it.

'' Yeah '' My voice sounds raspy and unused, and I can't find it in me to answer anything else.

My tattoo is fairly recent. He never saw it anyways. On my right shoulder is now portrayed a bird flying over a field of yellow flowers. Dandelions. To me it symbolises us. I got it tattooed on me after a particularly hard week, when my life was so awful and painful it felt like dying was the only option to escape.

But then I remembered Peeta, and how much I missed everything about him. And I knew I needed something of him to give me strength.

But I would never dare to tell him that.

He is still looking at me, and I can see in his eyes that he is pleading me for something. I can feel his presence in my soul, my heart, everywhere.

'' What does it stand for? ''

'' What? ''

I must sound pretty dumb, but I am so overwhelmed that it seems like I forgot every word. The only thing of importance to me is sitting right next to me anyways.

So close to me.

He actually gives me the cutest and faintest smile before adding '' your tattoo, what does it mean? ''

'' Maybe I'll tell you someday ''

I really hope I'll get to chance to. I hope he'll give me the chance to tell him everything. Even the things he probably does not whant to hear.

'' It looks like freedom ''

His words catch me of guard, and it takes everything in me to not burst out in tears.

In an impulse, I take his hand and guide it on my thigh before interlacing our fingers and squeezing tightly. His thumps instantly starts to rub the back of my hand and he suddenly bring me up and drags me on the dance floor.

I can deal with that. Physical closeness. They say it comes naturally to me.

He brings my back to his chest and I bring one of my hand across his neck. I want him so much closer. The music seems to disappear, all I can hear and feel is the feeling of his heartbeat against my back.

I would recognize it anywhere.

At one point I can feel his lips on what is visible of my tattoo. The act is so pure and tender, it feels incredibly intimate.

'' You're so beautiful '' He whispers the words against my skin and that does it for me.

The emotions, the alcohol… It's all too much for me.

He turns me in his arms and crushes me against his chest. It does not matter that we are standing right in the middle of a sketchy and disgusting club. He is the only that matters.

'' Peeta take me home '' I shakily whisper the words against his ear and I feel his shaky breath against my cheek when he whispers;

'' Always ''

When we step outside together, everything around me suddenly feels different. Like I can finally breathe again.

I feel different.

'' Where do you live? ''

That question alone is enough to break my little bubble of hope.

God forbid he ever sees my poor excuse of an apartment. I don't even know if the single room shit hole I live in can qualify is a '' home ''. I know he would freak out if he saw the type of person living in the block.

He must feel me tensing next to him because he squeezes my hand and brings it to his lips.

'' It's ok, I have an hotel room. '' I stare at our hands. I don't know why it is suddenly so captivating. '' We can go there if you prefer ''

'' Yeah please ''

The drive his quiet. I am so scared that this is all a dream, I don't dare say anything. I just close my eyes and concentrate on the feel of his hand on my thigh.

This is real, this is real, real.

When he closes the door of his hotel room, I don't know where to stand or what to say. I have never been good with words, and right now is absolutely no exception.

And for once it seems like Peeta doesn't know what to say either. Now that we are out of the club and that the moment is gone, everything that was left unsaid between us feels so daunting that I am nauseous. And to think everything is my fault.

After dancing around each other for a little while, it seems that we both silently agree that the single best option for us right now is to go to bed.

So when we are both finally lying side by side, I can't take this sudden silence anymore. Maybe I should do what I do best and show him how I feel through my actions.

Sex was never the problem between us anyways.

As quickly as the thought entered my mind, I roll on top of him and straddle his waist. The way he looks at me is not at all like I had expected. He doesn't wear the same look he used to when we were together. Instead he looks at me like I had grown a second head or something. A striking contrast to what I am used to. It petrifies me.

But I need to feel him so much that I don't let it distract me. I can't. I am incredibly selfish.

So when I start to grind against him, I quickly throw my shirt on the ground and put his hands on my breast. I can't help the moan that escapes me.

I lean down just enough to whisper in his ear '' I am so wet for you; I want you to fuck me '' but when I go to grab his member in my right hand he quickly stops me.

'' Katniss stop '' I was so caught up in my own pleasure and my need to escape that I did not even notice he was still soft under my crotch.

The words leave my mouth in an accusatory tone '' you don't want me '' Even if the fact deeply hurts me, I can't bring myself to move from my spot on top of him.

'' Katniss stop this you know it has nothing to do with wanting you or not ''

'' Who is she '' I am so stupid. Of course he found someone else to be with. Why would he even want to be with a stupid drugged whore when he could have literally anyone.

'' What the hell are you talking about '' I can see that he is trying to remain calm, but for some fucked up reason I want him to yell at me.

'' What's her name? How could you replace me '' I am shouting in his face at this point and I know then I hit a nerve.

'' Katniss there is – '' His face is red when he tightly says the words, probably from anger, but I don't even give him the chance to finish before I shout back '' How could you stop loving me like that! ''

'' Stop this Katniss there is absolutely no one! '' He is so upset that I can't do anything be believing him.

We stare at each other for what seems like forever, and I get it then.

'' You're still mad at me '' It's not a question, it's a statement. Suddenly I don't feel so confident anymore and I have to look away before I do something stupid like cry.

He stays quiet and I know this is it. It hurts me more than anything else ever could. More than the possibility of him being with someone else.

'' I am not mad anymore I just '' he seems to be weighting his words before softly adding '' I just think I still need time. We still need time ''

I try to look confident, but I know he can feel me shaking.

So I roll off of him and curl on myself at the extremity of the bed. I don't even bother to put my shirt back on. After what seems like an eternity, I feel him getting closer and he hesitates briefly before hugging me from behind.

His arms around me bring me back to all of those nights we spent wrapped up around each other. He would whisper that he loved me every night, I think he would have told me every second of the day if he could have. No matter how I loved him back, I could never bring myself to say it.

I saw how loved destroyed my mother, I could not let myself be that vulnerable.

But right now I am so desperate for him to acknowledge me, to forgive me, that maybe I should be honest with him.

'' I love you Peeta '' I whisper the words against my pillow and I feel him slightly tense behind me.

When he doesn't say anything I start crying. I make those weird hiccupping noises that I hate so much. It feels like I can't breathe. Right now I feel so much like a lost little girl I can't stand it. Whenever I feel this way, I can't believe that I make a living by fucking strangers and selling drugs. How can I feel like I do and yet act completely different? It feels like my inside does not fit with my outside. Does anyone?

I feel him caressing my hair and can hear him whispering sweet nothings but he never says it back. He just keeps apologising, telling me he still needs time.

I know I can't hold it back against him, so I don't pull away.

But nothing ever hurt this much.