I lied. I said I'd update yesterday, but I seriously couldn't think of anything to write. I usually just wing it with my chapters. I have a basic structure of where I'm going with the story, so it's not completely aimless, but the in-between stuff is always hard. This is just a fluff chapter. Sorry. Well…no I'm not. I love fluff. I also love the Civil Wars. Best band ever. I'm listening to their song Forget Me Not, and it's so sweet. This album totally makes me want to write; that and the fact that it's raining today make this a perfect chapter writing day. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Johanna's funeral was small, and, overall, it was bleak. Little was said, as we were her closest friends, if you could call Johanna and me "friends." Annie sobbed uncontrollably, and Finnick's eulogy was interrupted by her sobs, cutting it short. This wasn't a big deal, as all of us were eager to be away from the sad white-walled chapel in District 13. But then, every wall here was white, so I suppose we could never really escape that.

With the Peacekeeper invasion under control, everyone was relocating to their rooms. I was being moved to a room on the top floor of the underground district, where all the victors were placed. Again, they were grouping us together, away from the innocent people of 13. Peeta's room was next to mine, I discovered, which was a relief. Mother and Prim, however, were on a whole different floor. They were in a sector closer to the hospital, as the invasion had provided them with a healthy amount of patients. Since they were living there, I had to take care of the cat. Buttercup was only allowed to live in 13 if he had access to a window and didn't disturb the other residents. Seeing as my room had the window, Buttercup took up residence with me. Prim fed him and brushed him and such, but I still had to look at him most of the time.

The day following the funeral was uneventful. I sat in my room all day, doing nothing, waiting for Peeta to come and see me. He was working in the kitchen three times a week now. When he would come back, he would bring me an artfully decorated cookie or a cupcake. Sometimes he'd bring me heart-shaped cookies with P.M + K.E. written neatly on the top in elegant script. He called them "love cookies," and as cheesy as that was, it was wonderful to see his brilliant smile as he grinned at his own joke.

At night, the nightmares weren't as bad, at least, not with Peeta there to hold me. But they still slipped through. I would dream of the Games, Rue's death, Mags running into the fog, and the deaths of all those other innocent children's whose names I hadn't dared to learn. The worst dreams, though, were of what I had dreamt in my coma. These were the worst because even after I woke up, they didn't go away. I had to take several moments to sort out what was reality. I had to ask Peeta questions about what was real and what wasn't. It became a sort of game, though it wasn't fun to relive Johanna's death or talk about Prim dying in my mind. Peeta was patient with me, though, calmly answering my questions and proving to me that he hadn't actually been hijacked.

"Finnick is dead. Real or not real?"

"Not real."

"Finnick and Annie got married."

"Real." He smiled, remembering their wedding. He brushed the hair from my forehead that had been plastered there with sweat. I smiled softly and continued.

"You love me."

"Absolutely real." He leaned down and kissed me softly. I felt a stirring in the pit of my stomach, similar to what I felt in the cave, but I was too sleepy to act on it. Instead, when we separated, I placed a hand on his cheek, and told him I loved him before snuggling into his arms, resting my head on his chest. I didn't fall asleep, though. I merely lay there for the rest of the night in his embrace. I don't think he slept either, but neither of us wanted to interrupt this moment. I felt so safe in his arms. When the sun came up, he stirred and began to stand up. I clutched at the cotton of his shirt. He laughed at my disgruntled expression. "I'm not leaving you. I'm just going to change. And…get a few things." Before I could question him, he was out the door.

When he returned, he had changed clothes and brushed his golden hair. I frowned. Oddly enough, I liked when his hair was disheveled. At this point I noticed what he had in his hands. A picnic basket and a blanket. He laid out the blanket on the floor, and set the basket on top of it. Reaching for my hand, he led me over to the blanket and we sat there together. Inside the basket, I found cheese buns, warm stew, and a special tin of "love cookies."

"Thank you." I said, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you for this."

"Any time, Miss Everdeen." He smirked. The rest of the day was spent on that blanket. Talking, laughing, and sitting in silence, my head on his lap and his hands in my hair. I don't remember when, but at some point I drifted to sleep that way. I woke up after dark in my bed. In the dimly lit room, I saw Peeta moving towards the door. I assumed he thought I'd want a night by myself, or that I'd be alright without him since I was already asleep, but I was not allowing that. "Stay with me," I mumbled with as much force as my sleepy mind could muster up. He chuckled, turning around.

He climbed into the bed next to me, and the last thing I heard was him saying my favorite word. "Always."