''I could stay with him, if you want some rest?'' I said, Katniss looked up to me.
I could see her eyes flicker, there were sparks in her irises, the fire really was in her.
I had looked at her a million times, different perspectives, different locations, different situations.
I had looked at her feeling hurt, sad, homesick, happy, surprised.
I had hold her feeling angry, being afraid, tired, worried.
I had seen her staring at me in different ways: thankful, for the bread; shy, because of my attention; angry, because of my allies in The Games; happy, because we won them; worried, about my health in The Games and with love in her eyes; in the cave, when we kissed.
Every single good memory, the ones I wanted to remember, took place in the situation and on the location I wanted to forget.
But with forgetting the circumstances, came forgetting the feelings. And that I didn't want.
''Yes,'' she answered, ''I'll get him some fresh snow''.
The way she said it, she was worried about him, too. It hurt. I was jealous. I wanted her to love me, of course I did, even though I pretended to be okay with her ignoring me.
I wanted her to kiss me, again. I wanted her to lay in my arms. For every day and night, forever. Like she said after The Games.
Was it a lie?
I don't know, I didn't want it to be. But she was good at hiding her feelings.
Deep down, I knew she couldn't have pretended it all. I saw it, the look in her eyes.
She didn't want to, at first. But then she wanted too hard to love me, to win, for us both.
And that even hurt me more. The thought of her only loving me because of saving our lives, because of The Games.
I heard the chair sliding backwards, she stood up, slowly moving towards the door.
She sat down on the stairs, tying her shoelaces.
Her hair had been cut after The Games, it now was a bit shorter at the front. I liked it better this way, it complimented her face shape.
Her face had changed too, her skin had been healed, not only the scars of The Games had been removed, but also the scars she had before The Games.
Also, she had grown older, wiser, more mature.
She was not the naïve school girl anymore, as they loved her in the Capitol, she was a strong woman.
She stood up, walking towards the door.
She looked over her shoulder before closing the door.
And I swore I saw that love in her eyes when she looked at me.
But as the door closed, she was gone. And I hoped that, when she would return, that that look in her eyes, would be with her too, but knowing her.. No, that look would wait for a long time, before returning.
And I hated that.