Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games!
A/N: Thanks for reading this :) I hope you like it and please leave a review!
The night fell, the air grew increasingly colder by the second.
They held each other, feeding on each other's warmth.
They had been in the cave together for a few days now. Three? Five? More? He did not know. Time was not something he liked to keep track of during the Games. In the Games there was no concept of time. There was just night and day. There was unbearable heat and glacial cold.
And there was death. A whole lot of death.
In the Hunger Games there was heat and cold and hunger and thirst and starvation and pain and inhumanity and death. But not time.
For Peeta Mellark however, there was something more. For Peeta Mellark, there was also love.
Love. It was a strange notion to think of when thinking of the Hunger Games. But for Peeta Mellark, at that very moment, love was what came to mind.
Because more than the frigidness he felt in the cold night air. More than the pain in his leg that was still excruciating - even after Katniss had ventured so bravely and lovingly to get him that lifesaving medication. More than anything else, he felt love. His heart was positively exploding with love in fact.
Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. She was what love meant to him. And love meant everything to him. So he supposed from those to statements it was logical to conclude that Katniss meant everything to him.
He listened to the gentle sounds of her slow paced breathing as she slept soundly beside him. He thought of the sound of an angel's breath. Yes, that's certainly what angels must sound like.
She had said she would take watch, but he had stubbornly insisted that she get her rest. Finally, she had obeyed. Peeta was relieved that for once, she had listened to him. She truly needed to be able to escape into the peaceful bliss of oblivion as to what was going on around her, even if for just a short while.
He stroked her hair. Soft. Her hair was soft. Soft was another part of love. His heart softening whenever he saw her; her eyes softening when she had first sense the true state of horror that his leg was in.
Soft.
But soft wasn't as important as the main category that it was a sub-category of of course.
Which brought him back to love.
Love.
Love would always override the heat, the cold, the hunger, the thirst, the pain. Even the death.
Because he loved the girl sleeping like an angel next to him more than all of his heat and cold and hunger and thirst and pain combined. He had (obviously) never died before, but he was almost certain that his love for her would last beyond death too.
Love.
That was what he felt in this horror of horrors in which he had been placed. That was what he felt most as he lay in a cave in the middle of the Hunger Games.
"Sweet dreams, my angel," he murmured softly (again, soft) "I'll love you forever. Because of you, I still have my sanity. Because of you, believe it or not, I think of love here in the Hunger Games."
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