AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is like kind of a short story about how Peeta and Katniss grew back together. I went on fanfiction looking for something to make me cry and stuff (you know, sentimental?) but I couldn't find any, so I wrote one myself. ENJOYS! BTW: this is Katniss's POV.

I sighed as I sat up in my bed a looked out of my bedroom window to Peeta's house. He'd been back for over two months now, and we barely spoke. I hated to admit it, but a part of me desperately wanted him to come and talk to me, and hold me at night like he used to. The sensible part of me told me that he hated me, and that he'd already moved on and probably didn't love me anymore. I looked down towards my arms, scarred from the war. My hands trembled as the memory of the flesh, my flesh, in front of me killing so many people. Prim. Guilt washed over me, and I felt a warm drop on my arm, a warm tear.

It seems as though I've been crying more often lately, ever since Peeta got back. My nightmares got worse, and they changed. They no longer centered around only Prim being consumed by the fire, but on Peeta.

Peeta.

His name played over and over in my head again until I thought it was going to scream. Why can't I move on?

I climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As I took my clothes off, I took a small peek at my body. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't as frail and skinny as I'd expected. Sure, I was lacking curves and my breasts were not big, but I looked healthy. My scars had faded into a pale pink color, and I looked almost normal. Normal. That word was foreign in my head. I've never had a normal life, and I found it odd that I would think of such a word. With a sigh, I hopped in the shower.

(Peeta's POV)

6 AM was what time I always woke up now. Ever since I made my decision to come back to Twelve, my daily routines were the same. I would wake up, bake, do some chores, and think of her. Katniss. I've missed her so much.

Ever since I came back, we've only shared a minimal amount of words. I stopped by her house once a week to give her bread, and we always said the usual "thank you's" and "you're welcome's". I longed for a change, or a sudden burst of courage to give me enough nerve to talk to her. I figured that she wouldn't want to talk to me, and I wondered if she ever thought of me.

We've both changed. She's not the girl who used to struggle for survival, feeding her family with minuscule scraps of food, and I'm not the boy who constantly got beat by my mother. We've grown up. I only wished that we would've grown together.

I looked out my window and I see Katniss's silhouette in her bedroom. I don't know what she's doing, but I know that she's already up. I wonder so much about that girl, whether she's doing okay, or whether she needs to be comforted.

A memory flash takes me back to Thirteen, in the hospital room with Prim. "She loves you," she had said to me. I held on to that memory, storing it in my heart, because I hoped that one day, it will be true. I tread to the kitchen and get started baking.

(Katniss)

I didn't really know what to do after my shower. I wasn't going to go hunting, because I would get dirty, and I didn't really want another shower. As I pondered, a knock came on my door. I assumed it was Haymitch or Sae, since they were the only two who came regularly. Peeta only came about once or twice a week, so I didn't think it was him. I shuffled to the door and opened it. It was not Haymitch, nor was it Sae. I found myself staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Peeta Mellark.

"Peeta!" I managed to gasp out. I definitely was not expecting him. He looked a bit uneasy, and I stepped aside, letting him in the house. He carried a basket with him, and judging by it's aroma, it was filled with cheese buns.

"Hi Katniss," Peeta said after setting the basket down on my coffee table. I gulped and walked over to him.

"Hi." I whispered, unable to look at him. I don't know why, but my eyes were starting to tear up. I had so much emotion towards that boy, and I was too stubborn to admit it. He was in my living room, literally two feet in front of me. Something finally snapped, and I lunged myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I cried into his chest.

"Hi, Peeta. Hi," I whisper-sobbed to him. I felt him tense at my sudden action, then relax. He brought his arms up and engulfed me into a hug, his head pressed into the crook of my neck.

'Katniss," I heard him say to me, "hi Katniss."