Pure Unadulterated Madniss.

I'm still fairly new to the world of writing femslash.. And Madniss is currently frolicking through my head and sending me to breaking point most nights... So here we go.. Sorry if it's shit..

You know how sometimes the taste of something can transport you back into a whole other time? Where it touches your tounge and all of a sudden you're sucked into what feels like a whirlpool of memories that in reality lasts about 5 seconds. But for you feels like an entire lifetime.

Peeta always used to asked me why I no longer ate strawberries, why I refused to kiss him after he had eaten them, but why I kept a bowl of them on the counter. I told him I just no longer had the stomach for them, but liked how they looked.. Truthfully? The taste of the strawberry never belonged to the boy with the bread. They belonged to the girl with the golden hair, the girl with the pin, the mayor's daughter, or as I knew her. My Madge..

It happened more than once, we never talked about it. It wasn't in either of our nature's to pour out our feelings, or even show them to such a degree.. It was us as she put it one afternoon in a clumsy embrace behind the school classroom 'Madniss', Pure ,simple, unadulterated Madniss.

Her hands would skim over mine, and she would laugh softly in my ear as I attempted to clumsly play the piano, Her hands would rest on hers to stop her shaking as I told to exhale softly as she released the bow, the sweet stolen kisses whenever we could get them, our hands touching as we exchanged pens in class, or the excitement that lit her eyes when I came to her door with a basket of strawberries, It was those moments that defined us, not shouting our feelings from rooftops, or broadcasting them to the whole of Panem.

I've never forgotten the way her lips would seek out mine, tasting of strawberries and expensive sweets, combined with a sweet taste that was so uniquely her, an explosive addictive mix. Her soft hands would entwine themselves with my rougher slightly calloused ones. Blonde hair would mix with brown... Blue eyes met grey ones.. Pink lace met grey cotton, short words, moans and gasps would escape parted lips hidden behind trees or bed sheets. Those were our moments.

She was mine.. She always was. Just like I was always hers. Some part of me is still locked away or possibly even died with her. The part of me I refuse to let anyone touch or see.. No-one else deserves it. I can't forget her. I won't forget her. Because somewhere she is waiting... I twirl the red berry between my fingers and stare at it before a gentle coughing breaks me out of the daze I'm in, drawing me back to reality to meet Peeta's worried eyes and him asking me if I'm okay..

I respond with a small laugh that I am fine, before looking out the window and seeing a brief flash of a blonde haired girl with a pink dress waving a strawberry at me mouthing the words 'want a taste?' before winking and vanishing again.. I can't help but let out a chuckle. I was fine. She hadn't left me at all, and for the first time in three years I reached over to the bowl and plucked out a strawberry and bit into it.

Yes. I did want a taste, I had all along..