I felt the writing itch take me over again, and as I didn't have much time, I decided to write something short.

I was inspired by the lyrics of 'London' by my favourite artist – Ben Howard. It got me thinking about how Peeta would be feeling after he gets off the train at District 12, after Katniss has just revealed that she doesn't really love him. He already feels Katniss drifting away from him…

-In the smallest hours here, when I feel alone...

I lie in my bed, looking up at the ceiling in the room I share with my second-oldest brother, Hary. He is in the single-bed on the other side of the cramped small room, but despite this, I feel alone. There will never again be anyone who will truly understand what I went through in the Games, no-one I can talk to about it – except for Katniss, and maybe Haymitch, if he is feeling sentimental. Even my family shied away from the topic when I attempted to bring it up with them earlier.

-The weariness and silences of such a crowded situation here...

I and my brother have never been close, but now I feel farther away from him than ever. I can hear his heavy breathing and I know that he is asleep – and I don't blame him, because it must be at least half-two – if not three – in the morning. I know that I should be getting some sleep in preparation for the Victor's festivities that will be happening tomorrow, but I can't.

-With every brick, every bar, every elegance I see, I see her face...

My head is just too full of Katniss, and the events of yesterday, and Katniss.

-When these lights, they haunt me like orchids in a graveyard...

Thinking back on the happenings of yesterday, I feel a wave of bitterness rise up in me, and I roll on my side and blink back salty tears that refuse to stop coming. Everything had just seemed too perfect; Katniss Everdeen had reciprocated my love for her, and then we had found a way to win the Hunger Games that didn't result in me losing her, or vice versa, and then we had been coming home, to share the rewards of our victory with the rest of the people in District 12. And then Katniss had dropped that bombshell…

…She doesn't look at my eyes when I accuse her of making up that she loved me, that her love for me was all just a strategy, designed to get her through the Games, and it's this that convinces me that what I'm saying is true. She's still clutching the wildflowers that I collected for her tightly in one hand, but the other hand, the one that I'm holding, I drop. "It was all for the Games," I say. "How you acted." Its not a question – it's a statement.

She looks at me then, and says "Not all of it." But her voice is strained, and I don't believe her.

"Then how much?" I ask, too numb to feel angry, or even mad that she used me. All that will come later. "No, forget that. I guess the real question is, what's going to be left when we get home?"

The hurt and confusion she feels is clear in her eyes when she replies, and for a moment my heart pangs as I realise that I have hurt her. "I don't know." She says. "The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get." I wait for a further explanation, giving her a chance to defend herself, but when none is forthcoming, I say:

"Well, let me know when you work it out." I know that the pain I feel is evident in my voice, but I'm too upset to care. I walk back to the train with heavy footsteps, and when it comes to stepping out onto the District Twelve platform I hold her hand tight as always, and I feel her grip mine equally hard, but inside me something is dead and is crying out "Don't leave me!" in a broken voice…

-Its only whisky and disregard...

...Even Haymitch knew. It turns out that most people did – or at least, when we greeted the previous years Victor's after we had both been prettied up and made nice again, they all seemed to wink at me, and look me in the eye with an expression that read 'Good strategy, that.' At the time I had thought they were merely teasing. I only realise now that they understood Katniss, and were closer to the mark on that score than I was.

-These faces of dust and stone, the dirt and bone of loss...

Afterwards, during the Victor's celebrations in the town square, we had held hands and smiled and acted nice for the cameras, but something in my heart had died when she told me no longer loved me, and now inside of my chest, instead of my heart, there's nothing. Even when I looked at the coaldust-lined faces of the people in the Seam looking happy for the first time in years as they were handed their extra rations, I didn't feel anything.

-Because this, this city ain't no friend of mine...

All of those moments in the Games, in the Capitol, when I had been so euphorically happy - were they just another Game to her? Did she spend all of her time away from me, when she was hunting, thinking up new ways to please the Capitol audience? To think of new scenarios, or speeches, that would convince everybody, including me, that she was desperately in love with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed baker's son?

-All I can do, is just push on, just push on through...

But I can't think of that now. I have to sleep. When the cameras are gone, after a few weeks, then I'll think. Then will be when I let myself think and process all of this pain, and what this means for me. Already today, in the brief moments when we we're alone, I've seen Katniss's face turn cold and closed-off when I go to speak to her, and I know that if I'm going to survive this god-awful betrayal, I'm going to have to do the same. I'm going to have to turn as cold and strong and as hard as stone as she is.

-So don't give up on me now…

But all the same, despite my firm resolutions, I still drift off to sleep murmuring Katniss's name and whispering to her, as if she can hear me across the lawn that separates our new Victor houses, "Don't give up on me now, not after all we've been through."

'Don't give up on me now."

Please please review! I know you're reading this! Your thoughts are appreciated :)

If you liked this, check out my Katniss story - Where The Mockingjays Go. Not song-fic.