Enjoy, sweetheart.

Peeta's POV

"Goodbye Peeta. I, er, I lo-" My breath hitches in my throat. Is she really going to say it? The words I once dreamed of, but don't know the meaning of right now?

Love. What is love, really? It was a thing mother wasn't able to do, and she paid the price. But dad was one of the most loving people I have ever met and that did not save him either.

"I... Bye." And she runs off. Like she's always done. Like both of us always do. Because that's the one thing we're good at, besides hurting people we love. Running.
So that's what I do, too. Fast. Away from the woods where Katniss and I tried to rebuild our relationship. Away from the pain that comes with the memories. I run, and I don't know where to. I just know that I need to get away.

I run and I never want to stop. I never want to feel again. No more hurt, jealousy, confusion, sadness, insecurity, or even love. Above all love.

Finnick told me that if it wasn't for love, the world would fall apart. But what if it already has? What if that same thing, love, is what has made the world fall apart in the first place? Maybe hate and love aren't 'close'. Maybe they're the exact same thing.

It occurs to me that the monster in me tries to break out, and I let it. So when I trash through my house in the victors village, I don't think it's the Hijacking's aftermath doing its job. I think it's me, embracing the side of me I once didn't have: my violent side. Because that's what this world does to you. It changes you, and if you try to fight it, it will only come back stronger.

I remember what I told Katniss that night on the roof, which feels like centuries ago. I wonder how I could've been that naive. Because we're all just pieces in their games.
But I don't know who 'they' really is, actually. Because it's not the Capitol, after all. At least, I don't think so. Not after I saw those bombs killing all the Capitol children, and with them Prim. Lovely, wise, beautiful Primrose.

Who's the enemy? That's the question Haymitch told Katniss to remember in the arena. But I don't think it just comes in handy for in the arena.

It's a question I need to ask myself everyday. And everyday, I should try to remember. No one but myself. Because a person, even in this cruel world, needs to be afraid of itself the most. People do the most damage to their own body, heart & soul. Because they're afraid of others doing it. Breaking them. But your heart can't break when it wasn't even whole to start with.

I think of Rue, the little girl who hopped around the trees. She died so young, so violent, without reason.
I think of Finnick and his Annie, heartbroken, waiting for him to come home, but he never will.
I think of Rye, always joking, even when the odd weren't in his favour.
And I think of my dad, who never failed to make me smile.

That is when I make the decision. I can't live with any more sadness. I need to have a life again. There already are people who've come back to twelve, trying to get their old lives back. But I know that's not what I need. My old life wasn't that great.

Change. That's what I need. And that's what I'm going to get. But I am remembering my past. I will honour my family, which died unknowingly. And so I head to the ashes of our once so lively bakery.

1 year later

"Have a good day, bye!" I wave at the little girl, so happy with her frosted cookie. While looking around the bakery, I think of everything that has changed.
I built it back up, in its exact old state, with the exact same name. That's one thing that hasn't changed.

The thing that has changed, is her. Us. We barely talk anymore. She went to live with her mum in District two.
I think it's for the best. We're both broken. Shells of who we once were. Katniss needs her dandelion in the spring, and I can't be that anymore for her. Not right now, because I need my own.

I miss her, though. We used to chase away the nightmares together, but since she has left, I haven't had one good night of sleep. I miss the comfort of having someone close to me, holding her in my arms.

"Hello!" A clear voice tinkles through the bakery. I look up into the most beautiful eyes.

I continue to stare, and the girl gives me a weird look. I snap out of it, and try to recompose myself.

"Hello, what can I do for you, miss...?"

The girl blushes, but doesn't give me her surname, so I decide to just keep talking.

"Are you new in twelve? I've never seen you around before!"

"Yes, my brothers and I used to live in district two."

Wait, two? That's where Katniss lives! I want to ask the girl if she knows her, but then I notice she hasn't stopped talking.

"So after my brother went off to university in the Capitol, we moved here." She finishes.

"Well, welcome! Can I ask you a question, though?" I say.

"I'm sorry Peeta. I don't know how Katniss is doing." The girls answers to my surprise.

"Oh, yeah, that was what I was going to ask, actually. How did you know?" I ask the mysterious girl.

"Well, I'm not trying to outsmart you or anything, but you two were kind of broadcasted all through Panem, and then she showed up at district two by herself... Seems to me, you'd want to know how she's doing. You guys did go through all that horrible stuff together, you know." Her eyes turn sad, but not pitying. It's a rare concept to me, and I find myself liking it. Liking her.

"I guess that's true," I answer her, "but you still guessed right."

She smiles, and it's one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. This girl is just so... pure.

"How old are you?"

"Does it really matter? We've all grown a hundred years, living through this war, don't you think? Anyway, I'm 17."

"Not only beautiful but wise as well, huh?"

The girl blushes, and I mentally slap myself for thinking out loud. It's what beauty does to you.
I think back to the words Katniss said years ago during the parade for the Quarter Quell. And it's true. An eye for beauty can be the same as a weakness, but not only with Katniss.

I mean, this girl is just beauty itself. Sure, she doesn't look like that girl living nearby, I think her name is Paris?! No, she's not like Paris. Not because she's not absolutely beautiful... Her hair is pretty, worn in subtle waves down her back with a pin holding her front hair together. Her face is just angelic and she's wearing a dress that shows her beautiful legs, but is still classy. And that's when I know why this girl intrigues me. She isn't fake.

After all the lies I have had to endure in my life, I can really use some honesty. And my gut tells me that's exactly what she is: honest. I can see it in her eyes while she watches me, an interested look on her face.

The girl asks for cheese buns, and it reminds me of the girl I once loved. My heart has been broken ever since she left, and I haven't given access to anyone anymore. I thought I had made my decision: My heart wouldn't be damaged again.

But maybe I have found my missing puzzle piece. I know it's a bit soon to tell but I just felt this connection as soon as I looked into her gorgeous brown eyes. And I just know this will turn out right. Because for the first time in a year, I have felt something again. An emotion so pure, it doesn't even feel real. But it is, and I want nothing more than to get to know the girl now walking away with her bag full of cheese buns clamped to her chest. She just radiates happiness. Maybe I have found my dandelion, after all. Just not the way I planned.

I'm deciding which oven to clean first when it hits me: I still don't know the girl's name.

"Beautiful!" I call after her, not knowing what else to call her. She keeps walking, but then notices there isn't any other girl around I could be shouting at.

When she turns around, I can see the red colour staining her cheeks all the way down the road. She walks back to the bakery until she's a few feet away from me.

"Yes, sir?"

"I didn't quite catch your name..." I tell her, and wink. I just can't help it.

Her smile widens, and fortunately, this time she doesn't leave me hanging.

"Amy..." The girl says.

"Amy Haslam."

And the girl, whose name I now know is Amy, heads towards the end of the street again.

And I miss her the minute she's left.

Happy birthday, I love you.