Although I was very tired, sleep didn't come to me right away. Peeta's soft and slow breathing came out through the night and gave me a comfort I haven't had in a long time. I felt good in this bed, his bed, in his house, and not surrounded by so many memories or the thoughts of people that used to sleep in rooms next door. I wasn't alone, but I couldn't get over the fact that I actually was. We were in the same bed, but he refused to hold me. I couldn't blame him of course, I couldn't expect him to. Everything was different. I knew that. I knew that things were different, different between us, different in him and me both. A part of me though, a bigger part than I wished to admit, ached at the thought of the barrier that is between us as we lied in the same bed. Peeta was all the way on his side of the bed, on his side pointed towards me, his hands drawn up close to himself. I stared up at the ceiling to try and just concentrate on his breathing and not on how much he drew into himself laying next to me. I wondered fleetingly if he would comfort me if I woke up screaming from a nightmare.

I shook that thought from my mind. It didn't matter, not today. The work I do in the town doesn't dull my nightmares, but rather my reaction to it all. I wouldn't wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I would dwell within it all, stuck in it, drawn down within it, not ever being able to escape until the morning called me out of my sleep. I sighed, and turned my body to face Peeta, my hand falling in between the distance of us. It was so close to him, almost touching, and I had to suppress a shudder that went through me that had nothing to do with the breeze from the opened window. I shut my eyes and tried to clear my mind from those thoughts, and any thoughts really.

It was a swirl of good and bad, blood reds and soft sunset reds clashing and mixing together. In the blood red, my dreams starred the dead, like always. When I was with them, everything screamed. Everything had a voice (they used it loudly), everything was alive (just so that it could die), and everything accused (accused me, my fault; this was something that was true both sleeping and awake). They took the words that Mags and Finnick used in my dreams previously, "for you," and said it as they died staring me down. Their demise was different each time, and different from how it really happened, and I didn't know if that was better or worse. It was on a stage, the stage in the Capitol, and everything was being recorded. I sat in the audience, right in front; I was their judge and they looked at me for approval for their death. Was this enough? Was this worth it? Were my screams loud enough or should the next person try to scream louder? I was to judge it all. There was no one else in the room, but I still heard cheers and amused laughter accompany each death. A laugh track. Everyone that was recorded on it was probably dead. I watched the dead with the sound of the dead laughing, and I wondered what sick joke it was that I was still fucking breathing. But there was the soft sunset reds still, and suddenly Peeta was standing beside me, pulling at my hand.

"We have to go. Come on," He tugged urgently but wouldn't look at my face.

"They're dying for me. I have to watch. I have to make it worth it. I can't go, Peeta, no–" I couldn't let them die with the empty laughter of the dead only. I had to be there. I had to witness it. I had to witness everything I did.

Peeta shook his head, and then finally turned to look at me. "They're already dead. Watching this will only make you go up on that stage yourself. Come on."

It seemed even in my dreams, Peeta was a voice of reasoning. I stood and as I did, the stage faded away. The laughter of the dead quieted into a soft rain that fell upon me. I noticed suddenly, that Peeta's hand was not in my own. I was sitting against a tree, and when I looked out in the rain, I saw the bakery. It was smaller than how it used to be, but kept a similar style. Warmth seemed to emanate from it all, and the smell of fresh bread hit my nose. The thought of where I just was, the stage, left completely as I inhaled it, and felt the hunger of a scared eleven year old Seam girl who just lost her father and was about to lose her family.

A racket started, and Peeta barreled out. I waited for the sound of his mother yelling at him, but only his laughter, his laughs alive and whole and well, filled the air. His scars weren't taken away in my dream state, and I found comfort in that. His hands held two loaves of bread, burnt to a crisp, that he started feeding to the pigs. He burnt them by accident, and laughed at his own mistake. My stomach lurched at the thought of those breads, but I turned away.

"Well?" I heard through the rain, and I turned to look at him. My look of surprise met his look of knowing. "Are you coming in?"

I woke with a start, but no screams. Then again, what I woke from wasn't fear, but just the distinct feeling to wake up and the surprise of everything in my mind. My mind was muddled with all the things that happened in my dreams, and I didn't know how to feel. My dreams showed me as everything I hate and fought against, the Capitol, forcing innocent deaths for benefit and amusement. And then my dreams took a memory and distorted it. A good memory, one that even still, after all this time, I cling to.

I forced my mind into the present, and saw that the sun just started its travels across the sky. Morning had come. My face was warm, and I didn't understand until I took in everything around me. I was in Peeta's bed. Peeta's hand was on my cheek, as if he wiped away tears that fell during that night. Which he probably did, and he probably fell asleep doing such. We were laying closer together as well. Not completely touching, not wrapped up in each other's arms, but both of our bodies didn't hug the edge of the bed like they did when we fell asleep. My hand was on his chest, as if during the night I needed to make sure of its steady heartbeat. I wondered if me unconsciously doing that is what made Peeta appear in my dreams.

And then I realized that it was the first night I didn't wake up crying, or full of bad thoughts. They started to seep in, slowly like molasses on a cold winter morning, but they weren't there when I first woke up. I closed my eyes and moved my body just an inch closer. I didn't want to get up, but I also didn't know how Peeta would react when he woke up. Would he care that I was touching him, and that he was touching me? Did he even realize that he did, or did he somehow, in his sleep, know that I was there and needed comfort? Would the feeling of my skin grate upon him with the anger of the Capitol and make him hate? I didn't know any of the answers, and I couldn't answer them. I could only wait, and react after Peeta woke up. I let his heartbeat fill my mind, and kept my eyes closed and self calm.

I could tell when he woke. It was like when we'd walk in the woods; his footsteps loud and alerting the world while mine were soft and shaped into the ground. He couldn't ever sneak in the woods, and he couldn't sneak waking up. When he woke he stilled and I could feel his hand tense where it laid upon my cheek. I willed myself not to tense up as well, and slowly I felt him relax again and even go to move a piece of hair off of my forehead. He sighed, heavily, as if something was on his mind, and got up to go to the bathroom. When the door shut I allowed myself to open my eyes and my lips were turned in a frown. I was going to open my eyes when I felt him move my hair, but that sigh stopped me. No, that would have been foolish of me. This was foolish of me. I heard the shower go on and I sat up. I should probably go. I shouldn't have stayed. I shouldn't be so foolish, and selfish. I needed to get some hunting in before I went into town. I had things to do, and I had to do them so I wouldn't think. I stood and was about to leave, when I stopped. I didn't want him to think I was mad at him, or that I was mad about sleeping in the same bed with him. I quickly went over to his desk and got a paper and a pencil. Come to my house for dinner. 6:00. I placed it where I slept, and left.

The day went past me in a whirl of hard work and sweat, and soon enough I was dragging my aching legs back to my house. I thought ahead, and how Haymitch intercepted me last time so I changed my route slightly so I'd walk through the backyard instead of the sidewalk. I went into my kitchen to start dinner, when I found my washed plate, a loaf of bread, and a note upon my counter, the same place I'd put Peeta's plate when I'd bring it over in the evenings. I picked up the paper and read. I'll make dinner tonight. You come over at six. I shook my head at the words. He probably was doing this for the fact that I made dinner and brought it to him every night even though he shut me out. I glanced at the clock, and saw I had around an hour. Alright, I at least have time to wash the soot that most likely would never leave the District. There was talk I overheard while working, that a rumor was spreading of giving all the Districts real names. I didn't listen more, and I knew that no matter what it'd always be District 12 to me. I decided on a shower, not wanting to sit in a tub of water that would quickly become dirtied with everything on my skin. It felt good to wash the sweat and soot, and even though warm water was not just a dream anymore, I made the water cold.

By the time I was showered and got dressed, it was almost six. I looked out and saw the dark clouds that were promising rain at some point, and grabbed a hooded sweater. I made my way to his house and stood in front of his door. Should I knock? Would the door even be unlocked? I pictured in my mind climbing through the kitchen window only to sprawl on top of whatever Peeta was cooking. I shook my head and tried the door. It opened, and smells of good food wafted through the air and enveloped me. "Peeta?"

"Dinner's almost ready," he called out from the kitchen as I shut the door. I made my way through and saw as he was putting the plates on the table. "Do you want anything to drink?" He asked, and I asked for some water.

Dinner passed with talk that danced far around what I really wanted to ask about and what Peeta didn't want to talk about. As we cleaned our plates, he had a question for me. "What have you been doing the past couple of days?"

I tried to hide my face to not give anything away. I didn't want him to know that I was working on the bakery, I didn't know how he'd react. Eventually I'd tell him, but for right now, I'd avoid it. I remembered how he shut down for days after staring at the place, and I didn't want to trigger anything. "Hunting every now and then," I started, casually. "Working in town with rebuilding."

He didn't expect that, and he turned to me to look with surprise. "Really?"

I shrugged and went back to washing our dishes. "It's something to do. It clears my mind." I't lets me help you even when you shut me out, I add in my head, but I don't say it. "What about you?" I asked.

I picked up a blush on him as well as a hardened expression as he continued his duty of drying the plates. "I've stayed in. Er, thinking. Painting," He added quickly. "Baking."

Thinking. Did that mean flashbacks? Probably. "What have you been thinking about?" He stayed silent, his lip pulled into a straight thin line. Each second he stayed quiet, I felt more and more anger. Finally, I placed the plate I was cleaning down into the sink and turned to him. "Goddammit, Peeta stop shutting me out."

He placed the towel in his hand down and turned to look at me, surprised. I was surprised too, I didn't mean to lash out at him. But I was angry. And he was shutting me out. And it hurt. "Katniss, I'm not shutting you out." I looked at him in disbelief and he shook his head, looking out the window. "I'm just trying to figure out how to put everything in words. My mind is really jumbled and I don't know how to articulate everything, but I know that I need to, and I will."

I got worried a bit, at that. Peeta wasn't able to put his thoughts into words? That was my job. I was the one that struggled with how to voice something, instead just throwing myself headfirst into something. He was the one that could change the thought of a crowd with just a minute of talking. Was this something that I could blame on the Capitol, something else they took away from him? "It helps to talk it through," I said, and he snorted. I smiled at that, knowing that I was the last person to talk about how talking about problems is helpful. "Okay, I guess I'm not a star example of that school of thought. But what I mean is, Peeta, if you need to talk it through with someone, I will listen to you." My hand touched his arm lightly, and in an instant he grabbed the hand and started walking upstairs, dragging me along. "Come on," he said.

We were in his room, and I sat down at the edge of his bed as he started pacing with his eyebrows furrowed. I watched him for a bit, and then finally he stopped and pulled his desk chair to sit it in front of me. I raised my eyebrows in question. Finally, he took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm a mutt."

My eyebrows shot down and furrowed into a scowl. "No." I remember when I was so angry at him for what the Capitol did to him, when I said that he was one. But he wasn't, and it hurt to think that he has been locked up in his house for all of these days with these thoughts.

"Yeah I am Katniss."

"Why?"

He looked at me confused. "What?"

"Why do you think you're a mutt?"

He looked off and away from me. "The Capitol took me, and bent me to do their bidding. And I gave in. I did what they wanted of me. I let them change me. A mutt."

I looked at him, but he wouldn't turn back to me. "Fine. You're a mutt." He grimaced. "I'm a mutt too then."

He turned back to me at that. "What?"

"You're a mutt because the Capitol was able to make you do what they wanted to? So did I. I caved into that before you, even. I did it without being tortured and not having tracker jacker venom pumped through me. If you're a mutt, I'm a worse one."

He shook his head and then looked at me. "No. You're not a mutt."

"Fine. Then you're not one either." I shrugged. He looked slightly angry that I was fighting him on this and being stubborn, but I didn't care. I've placed blame on him before when it wasn't deserved, and I wouldn't let him place it on himself.

He shook his head again. "I've been painting a lot the past couple of days, and thinking. I'm trying to gain pieces of myself back, and sometimes it frustrates me when I can't. I need to, can you see that?" He looked at me desperately, his hands clinging onto my own.

Of course he needed to, needed that. Peeta was good. Always has been. He always will be, as long as he has a say in it. I thought of how I used to be, and there wasn't really anything of my old self I wished to have anymore. All I had was the need to survive. Well, I did. It was everyone else that I lost. I didn't want to be broken, of course, but there was nothing absolutely brilliant that I used to have or be that I missed. I didn't miss myself. I missed my friends and family. I missed Prim. I missed– I stopped my train of thought, and brought my mind back to the conversation. "Peeta, you're still you. There are sometimes when I can't even believe that you went through everything you did because you have moments of absolute clarity."

He laughed a bit at that. "Yeah, I have moments. And I've also tried to kill you."

I looked right at him and squeezed his hands. "But you didn't."

"I've hurt you." His voice was small, and defeated.

"Peeta, I've hurt you too. You were tortured and hijacked," he winced at the word but I continued, "programmed to kill me. And you fought against it. You didn't let them take you over, not completely. I've hurt you too, Peeta. I've changed from the Capitol too. That doesn't mean you're not Peeta anymore."

This conversation was obviously not going the way he planned. He looked frustrated that I wasn't letting him call himself names. I didn't care, I wouldn't allow it. He put his face down against our hands and laid it there for a bit. "I'm trying to remember pieces of myself, and I am. I'm trying..." He stopped himself. "I am," he corrected, but then paused again. He let go of my hands and stood up, not looking at me. I brought my eyebrows down in confusion. What was so hard for him to say? "I'm remembering how I care about you," he finally got out. I felt myself still. "I'm remembering how I feel about you."

A blush began to play upon my skin, and my mind went back to all that time ago, to a different lifetime, when Peeta was on stage and told Caesar that he had a crush for his whole life on a girl he was expected to kill. Peeta still cared? He remembered his feelings? I didn't know how to react. Back, before the war, I never could deserve him I knew (and so did Haymitch). But now? Peeta may be different, and a bit broken, but I still couldn't be enough for him. I wasn't even enough for myself. And I was confused. He confused me. I remembered all the times in the past couple of weeks I had the urge to kiss him but didn't allow myself.

He finally turned to look at me, his face guarded. "You're remembering how you feel about me," I questioned, and he nodded. "Your feelings for me." He nodded again. "When you loved me." I stuttered over the word, the stupid five letter word, not understanding. How could he even try and want to remember this part of himself?

"Yes," he said aloud. "I love you," it sounded automatic and he said it under his breath, as if they were words he has all the time and often. They were, I told myself. At one point. They were before I became what I am. I wondered if he'd try to hold onto his love for me if I just died at the end, instead of just surviving like I was now, as a scarred up broken frail mass that existed in the most basic sense. He probably would, but he probably would also be able to move on, and make a new life. There was nothing good coming out of me still being alive, and this solidified it.

I took a breath I didn't realize that I was holding. "So that's what you've been thinking about these past couple of days." Every question of mine came out more like a statement.

He nodded. "Well it didn't start with that. I had an episode when I got back into my house after seeing the bakery, or rather lack of it. It was a bad one. What got me out of it were memories of you, untouched by the Capitol." He blushed a bit, but didn't look at me. He was looking at the wall, concentrating. "That helped. So I tried writing down memories that I had of you. A couple of hijacked ones got through, and when they did, I'd rip it out and burn the page and start over. I," He paused and went to his desk and took a sketchbook from in the middle of his pile of sketchbooks. He handed it to me, and I looked down at it in my hands, which were trembling. I opened up a page and heard myself gasp. All over the entire page were three words written over and over again. "I love Katniss".

If I was told a couple of years ago that a boy had filled up pieces of paper that declared their love for me, I would have laughed in their face. Now all I wanted to do was cry.

"I told you before, a long time ago. I didn't want to be a piece of their games." He laughed. "That was stupid of me. We were always a piece of our games, or they wanted us to be. So they loved our love story, and they wanted us to fall more in love." They wanted me to grow a goddamn heart, I thought to myself. "They wanted us to die for each other. When death didn't come for either of us, they wanted me to stop loving you." He paused, and looked right at me. "I never wanted to be a piece in their games, but I became one. But not anymore. I'm not a piece of their games anymore, Katniss."

It felt hard to breathe. I didn't know what to feel about this and I suddenly felt like I was a little kid, and my mind spun. "I'm not telling you this and waiting for you to respond saying that you feel the same way." Peeta continued, and I finally looked up at him. "I just needed you to know."

"I need to think," I said quickly, and like the coward I am, I ran out of his house and into my own, locking the door. It was raining now, and I was soaked. The moment I shut the door, I cursed aloud at myself. I spent an hour trying to calm myself down. He doesn't really love you, I'd tell myself. He's trying to make himself feel that way just to get back at the Capitol. He can't really love you, you're the worst thing to happen to him. You're the reason his family is dead and he had to see the bakery destroyed. You're the reason he was taken, he was hijacked. You're the reason they pumped tracker jacker venom into him. You're the reason he was ready to die in the first games, the reason he got beat by his mother to give you the bread. Every bad thing that happened in his life came down to you.

It made me feel worse about myself, but better about everything. I couldn't let Peeta love me, not anymore. I could make sure he was alright and care, but I couldn't let him do the same for me. My mind was against me with it all, and went back to on my birthday in the woods. He wanted to hold me. I wanted to kiss him. I missed him, but I couldn't let myself do so. I still was leaning against my front door, and I crumpled on the ground. No, tried to tell myself, but it sounded so weak. I couldn't want to kiss him. I couldn't want him to hold me or hold my hand or anything. Growing back with him, it was a mistake. I couldn't take it. Because I wasn't enough, and not what would be good in his life. And he should leave, and find a good life. And if I let myself any closer, I'd be destroyed. I shook my head at that. No, I was already in too deep, and always was. It'd kill me regardless if he left. Could it be the same with him? Could the thought of me leaving be shattering to him? How many times can I break him until he couldn't be put back together? I choked back a sob.

I made a rather big mess of the night, running off. Peeta made a rather big mess of the night too though I guess, by trying to love me again. Love. I breathed deep. It was a weighty word, and Peeta used it so much. Was able to. Because he was good, so good, and always good. Always Peeta. Every single person that I let myself love, in any way, died or left. I have Peeta and Haymitch, and yes they were my family and I loved them, but I couldn't. Couldn't like that.

I threw that word out of my mind. I needed to stop thinking about it, and fast. What did I want to do, right at that moment. What did I want to do? I wanted to kiss Peeta. I let myself think that, imagine it. The last time I did was in the Capitol, to make him stay with us and not succumb to the venom and get killed. I wanted to kiss him, and not because of the cameras, and not because one of our lives depended on it. I wanted to kiss him because he was Peeta, and his lips knew mine, even after all this time. But could I? After what he told me tonight, could I? I shook that from my head, and opened my front door.

It was full blown storming now, and I walked into the part of the yard in between our two houses. His bedroom light was still on, and his window was even still open despite the storm. I wondered if he locked his door after I walked out on him, and didn't want to try. I wanted to get into his room, where he was. There was a tree near enough to his window, so I started to climb it. This was mad, stupid and foolish, but so was his idea to try and have feelings for me again. I just needed to know. I just needed to kiss him, and do it now. As I climbed the tree, I heard thunder. My mind went back to the Quell (tick tock), and I thought how humorous it'd be if lightning decided to strike the tree that I was halfway up. I tried to shake the thought from my mind, because thoughts of the Quell would only bring forth thoughts of ghosts and I wouldn't let this time be about ghosts. As I made my way out on the strongest branch I could go on that'd bring me to Peeta's window, I thought of Rue jumping from tree to tree. I sent the thought back again as the rain started to beat harder. I looked into his room and saw that he was at his desk, turned away from the window I was now perched close to. I took a deep breath. It wasn't a question, I knew at that moment. I was completely mad.

Thunder boomed again when I jumped into the window. I made it through like I knew I would, and rolled on the ground for a landing. I wasn't entirely graceful though, and ended up sitting instead of standing, my limbs spread out. Peeta whipped his head around in confusion at the noise I made, and stared even more at me when he saw me. I was probably quite the looker right now. Sprawled out sitting down on his floor, rained out like a drowned rat and random branches in my hair.

"Katniss?" He asked.

I got up quickly and made my way over to him. It wasn't the time for words, he had that before. It was my turn, and I was always about what I did, not what I said. I brought my hand gently up to his lips and hovered my fingertips just inches away from them. I could feel Peeta's eyes upon me, questioning what I was doing, but I looked only at his lips. I couldn't hesitate. I needed to do this, needed to know. And so I did. In one movement I brought my lips upon his.

haahahahah what a cliffhanger

anyway, peope have been harping on when they'd kiss and well here you go? but you'll have to wait for the next update to know more :) I made y'all wait for the thirteenth chapter ahahaha. this was also the longest chapter I've written? so that's cool – I got a bit carried away but I really wanted to end it there so there we go hahahahaahaa

As always ,thank you to everyone who reviews, and the continued addition of favorites and alerts on this story! hopefully you all enjoyed this story, now I just wonder how these two are going to deal with feelings in the next chapter oh man idk~

You all are great and perfect, let me kiss all of your foreheads yes okay. There's not going to be too much left of this, but I need to plan and work on my AU so I don't know when the next will be coming out. But hopefully you enjoyed this :)