The rest of the afternoon was filled with trips across the street, carrying boxes of photos and clothes until everything that I would need was in Peeta's house, while my mother and sister still had everything they needed back at mine.

He had tried to ask me why I had been upset, but I had been quiet about it, giving clipped answers about how it was "hard coming back home." or that "I'm just tired."

It wasn't until I had finished placing the photos on the mantle that I caved in.

"It was Gale, wasn't it?" Peeta asked, lounging on the lush sofa nearby.

I hesitated, spending an extra moment straightening the frames in front of me before turning around. "Yes."

He sat up sharply, obviously shocked to get an actual answer. "What'd he say to you?"

I sat down next to him, thinking of how to word it. "It wasn't what he said. It was what I didn't." Receiving a confused look, I elaborated. "Gale was upset that I didn't take my position at the lead of the rebellion when I had the chance."

"If he wants, he can go do something himself. Why he's vicariously living his revolution through you is beyond me." Peeta ruffled my hair lightly at this, and I forced a smile. It was true that I thought Gale was being unfair, but a year ago I would have jumped at any chance to change something in Panem. A year ago, I didn't know the risks of stepping out of line.

I must have sat there in thought for too long, as Peeta cleared his throat. "Forget him. We still have two hours to unpack before the Harvest Festival."

Snapping back to reality, I nodded. "C'mon. I still have to unpack my clothes." I stood, and, knowing he would follow me, I went upstairs to the hallway. There were four doors, one for a bathroom and three for bedrooms. I had stacked the few boxes holding needed outfits by the stairs, and made caution not to trip over them.

"So..." Peeta started, the question he hadn't yet asked one I already knew. "Are we going to be sharing a room? N-not to be weird, I mean we are going to be married soon..."

I lifted one of the boxes, shrugging. "If not, we're probably going to end up sleeping in each other's beds if someone had a nightmare."

"So sharing it is." He lifted two of the boxes, carrying them into the room I assumed was his. While the house was built identical to mine, it seemed like someone else was in charge of decorating his. While the room in my old house was covered in a light blue wall paper with intricate designs alongside a stark cream carpet, Peeta's room had walls of a warm marigold and dark hardwood floors polished to a bright sheen. Now that I thought about it, his house seemed more welcoming with deep olives, grays, golds, and reds that made up the decor in comparison to the icy blues and whites of the house across the street. The home seemed far more lived in than mine, even though I knew that Peeta was the only resident.

I dropped the box onto the floor and sat on the ash gray sheets of the bed, admiring the entirety of the space. "I could get used to this." I said with a smirk.

He followed suit, dropping down next to me with his hands behind his head."I hoped you would. It's not what I'm used to either, but it's home."

The next hour and a half was us sitting around, cracking jokes, and occasionally making headway on unpacking the few clothes I had brought over. It wasn't until it was thirty minutes before the Festival that we decided to get ready. I snatched a blue denim dress from the box that the stylists had given me for occasions they might not be around alongside my father's old leather jacket. After changing in the bathroom, I decided it didn't really go well together, but it was good enough and comfortable, at least. And anyway, it was District 12. There wasn't really anyone here I was aiming to impress.

Walking back into the bedroom to get my shoes, I found Peeta in front of a mirror, buttoning up a silvery vest over a white dress shirt. "You clean up nicely without a team of stylists." I commented, snagging my pair of boots from the closet and sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on.

He turned around and gave my outfit a quick look. "And you're... Getting better at it." I rolled my eyes and continued to lace up my shoes, but to my surprise, he walked over, sitting beside me. "You know what would go better with it though?" At this, he caught my attention, and I looked up from the half tied shoe. He carefully moved the leather jacket off my left shoulder so that the collar sat on my elbow.

Just as I was about to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, Peeta held up a fairly familiar token, the mockingjay pin, and clipped it to my dress, directly above my heart. I brought my hand up to rest where his still lingered on the tarnished gold. We stayed that way for several seconds before I leaned in and let my lips meet his.

It was perfect and incomplete all at once, with my fingers wrapping around his and his other hand sitting lightly at the base of my neck. I felt our rings clink against each other and the pin that started it all.

We broke apart the kiss in a bubble of laughter, but didn't move from our moment in frozen time. Peeta's eyes were wide and searching, trying to take in the entirety of the past few minutes before it all dissipated.

"We should probably start heading into town." I whispered, and he snapped back to reality.

"Oh, yeah..." He muttered before standing and smoothing out his shirt. Before he turned away, I caught a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks.

And for some reason, it didn't seem so unusual.