I scuff my feet along the ground, wondering how much longer I can go on like this. I can't believe he cheated on me. Yeah, we fight, but I would never hurt him like that. And I assumed he would never do that to me either. But I guess I was wrong. I overestimated him. My hunting partner. My best friend. The only one I could always trust, no matter what. I couldn't have been more wrong. He was the one who hurt me the worst.

Looking up now, I see my wanderings have again taken me to the bakery. And I know I shouldn't. I shouldn't torture him like this, force him to accept some half-hearted friendship when he loves me still. And yet, he is the only one who understands. And the only friend I have.

Because the others are all dead, whispers that little voice that never lets me forget. That never lets me 'get over it'. So I walk in, even though I know I shouldn't.

Just like his face shouldn't light up when he sees me, even though I can see his hands clench. This contradictory reaction confuses me, and I halt. Does he want me here or not? I've only taken a step or two through the door and I'm already hurting him, I'm sure of it. I should go. I should've never come. I start to turn, when he speaks.

"Katniss. Don't go." I turn back again, take another step. He comes out from behind the counter and walks over to me, reading the pain on my face. "What's wrong? Tell me."

I sigh, biting my lip in thought before I dump my pain on him. His simple act of kindness broke me. My voice comes out choked and small. "Gale. It's always Gale."

Peeta grabs my shoulders with his flour covered hands. "What did he do this time?"

"He cheated on me," I mumble and then lift my watery eyes to meet his. I speak louder, and with more venom. "With some whore while he was drunk. He has nail marks all over his shoulder blades from where she was ripping into his skin while he drove into her."

His blond eyebrows rise a little at my bluntness, but his voice remains calm. "That's awful."

"No," I interject, just pouring out my anger. "That's not the worst of it. Not only was he driven out of the house by our fight, he also lied to me about what happened. He said he went out hunting and didn't find anything, but then six or seven wild dogs attacked him, scratching his back. His shirt from the night before was completely unharmed. He covers it up by claiming he was shirtless. And then, this morning, he makes me this nice breakfast and is extremely nice as if he was sorry about yelling at me. I pretend like I start to catch on to his terrible lies after he decides to carry me into the bedroom and every time I try to say something to make him admit to what he did last night, he tries to distract me. All he cares about is mending things with sex.

"So then I yell at him and he starts sputtering out excuses that he was drunk and that he loves me and that he's sorry and all of this other bullshit. I couldn't take it anymore! I screamed at him and left. Now I'm here, dumping this on you, when I really shouldn't be. I'm sorry." I just register that tears of rage and sadness are trickling down my face and that I'm pulling away from the man I so desperately want to fall into.

"Katniss, please," his voice is tight as he grips my wrist, tugging me down to the floor so we can sit and talk. "Stay with me."

A sob leaks out of my throat and I cover my face with one hand, turning away from him as my thoughts echo the word: Always. "I . . . I can't . . . I shouldn't have come. I'm hurting you by staying here. I just . . . I don't have anyone else to turn to and . . . This isn't right. I'm sorry."

"Katniss!" Peeta's grip squeezes my wrist, his demeanor extremely serious. "You hurt me no matter what. I have nothing to lose. You have no one. So do I. Please stay with me. For now."

I cower into the wall behind me, adjusting my sitting position so I face him better. Turning my wrist, I work it out of his palm.

"For now." I agree, knowing that I must leave again, return to the house that has only brought me pain. But I can wallow in his arms for an hour, maybe. No matter how wrong it is.

"Do you want to talk? About anything? I'm here for you. Always." He says quietly, and the word echoes again. Always. Always. Try never. He's what I always could've had, but never chose.

"Do you still paint?" I ask, surprising myself. But now I really want to know.

"Of course," he smiles. "Would you like to see them?" I surprise myself again by nodding. He stands, and then helps me off the ground, leading me upstairs after closing the bakery. That gives me a little twinge of conscience, but not enough to stop him. He shows me through his rooms above the bakery, stopping in a sunlit studio. Color-covered canvases dot the room. I wander amongst them, studying the images, while he stands by the door.

"They're amazing." I tell him, almost reverently. For now he has painted the beautiful moments of our shared time, few though there were. The sunset on the beach, scenes from our cave, laughing during our seafood feast. And me, again and again. Sometimes in the Games, or on the Victory Tour, or during the war, or just home, in Victor's Village. He has found beauty, even in our dismal life. Lives. We have two separate lives now. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

I cross the room back to him, and it's all I can do to keep my hands off of him. I'm starting to remember why I loved him. My dandelion. And suddenly, the words come spilling out of my mouth without my permission.

"We should sleep together. Now. We should do it." My mouth falls open after, and so does his. I never meant to say that. I never meant to even think it. He steps back a little.

"No. I won't let you-"

"Just for revenge, I mean." my god, that's even worse. Now he knows I'm just using him. Or am I? His face darkens and he turns away, stepping back further.

"No." he answers darkly, his pain clear on his face, as clear as all these beautiful paintings. And I must do something to fix it. I reach out to him, trying to cross the distance I have just created between us.

"No, Peeta, no. That's not what I meant at all. I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I miss you so much, I love you-" I stop short, finally hearing what came out of my mouth. He takes my hand and squeezes it once, a sad sort of smile coming on to his face. He pulls me in a bit closer and kisses my forehead, lightly.

"I think you should go home now."

Sorry we didn't update til now, but we just got power back last night. And we know this is a pretty terrible cliffhanger, but the good news is we'll be updating tomorrow as usual so you won't have to wait long.