Burnt

A.N: I feel like the epilogue of Mockingjay was so disappointing… I really wanted to find out how Peeta and Katniss grew back together! However, there are quite a few fics I've read which have quenched my needs :) Here's a look in on Peeta and Katniss directly after the war. I promise my next story will be less angsty!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Her hands were covered in blisters.

She noticed this while taking a shower; as she rubbed the soap into her limp hair she realised how painful the task was, and when she pulled her hands out, her fingers were covered in blood from scrubbing too vigorously.

Katniss simply turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She spent the rest of the day staring at the blood dry up and the cuts clot, although she sat in darkness.


Sometimes he forgot his brother's names.

He would be making more bread in his kitchen, and as he reached for the cheese to add to the dough, his pupils would fatten, his breath would quicken and the hatred that reared upside him was so strange and unfamiliar… yet not new.

Some days though, were worse than others. And on those days, he only knew one name: Katniss.

Of course, that was the same name he would sob into his hands once he regained his control.


Whenever she visited Prim's grave, she would always pull out the weeds surrounding it.

It was natural, habitual for her. Nothing less than beautiful could exist near Prim. It wasn't allowed - even though the flame that killed her was beautifully vibrant, with oranges and yellows and even greens that surrounded her in a dance of passion before consuming her.

Katniss would always pull out the weeds till her nails bled when she remembered Prim dying the way she did.


Cold showers became his saviour.

Before it was just a "sometimes", when his forbidden thoughts about Katniss were left to wander around his brain and he ached with want.

But now, cold showers were the best ways to get him to remember who he was. He'd stumble out the bathroom shaking and collapse into his room, goosebumps risen on every layer of skin and a wild rhythm to his heart.

He preferred it over the darker days.


When they met it was a flurry of dilated eyes and quickened breaths, shortly followed by a tangle of limbs as they hugged and cried and lived.

It took no talking to agree on the fact that they were burnt, they were scarred…

But could they be healed?


Like I said, next story will be much lighter.

Reviews are love.

- chann3l.0rang3