By the time we get home it's dark. Katniss's grip tightens as we enter our dark home.
"It's okay, home is safe." I explain, flicking on the lights to my left. The living room brightens and I can feel Katniss relax considerably. I walk around the rest of our home, making every room visible.
"Funny," Katniss hums, "I always thought I lived here alone. You seem to know where everything is."
"That's because I live here too, Katniss." I reply stoutly. She nods,
"I know, I know."

My stomach asks for food and I listen, rummaging through the fridge.
"You hungry? I can whip us up something?" I enquire, migrating to the freezer.
"Please," she replies, pulling up a stool in the kitchen. I decide to prove our forgotten relationship more, preparing to make Katniss's favourite. Cheese buns.

I get some frozen buns I cooked not too long ago, setting them in the now warm oven. Slices of cheese, herbs, butter, all the ingredients I need are accounted for. Not too long later I finish, dishing 4 out on a plate.
"For you," I say, sliding a plate of 2 over towards Katniss. She eyes them suspiciously,
"My favourite," she affirms, bringing one up to her mouth, taking a gracious bite. "These are amazing," she exclaims, her words muffled by a mouth-full of cheesy goodness. I smile, filled with a sense of accomplishment. I also dig into my scrolls, the bread filling my stomach quickly. After picking the crumbs from her plate, Katniss pats her stomach,
"Thank-you," she praises, taking her plate and my own.

I cant help but grin. It's just like old times, I'd cook, she'd eat and clean. She seemed a lot more relaxed with my presence, which is good. Maybe those paintings did work?
"Katniss? Did they help, the drawings?" She freezes, dropping the clean plates onto the bench. They make an awful noise, startling me. They don't break though, luckily.
"I-I don't know." She chokes, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I follow her into the lounge room. She plants herself onto the couch, sitting idly.
"Want to talk about it?" I whisper.
"I'm tired." She replies voice hollow once more. She sprawls out along the couch, nestling herself into the cushions.
"You can sleep in the bed upstairs, I'll stay down here." A disapproving noise comes from the back of her throat, her eyelids fluttering. She was tired, and I understood. All the confusing, conflicting memories. It tends to tire you out. I grab a blanket from the linen closet, spreading it out and placing it over a content Katniss.

I pull up the covers to her chin, leaving her with a goodnight kiss. I then leave for my own bed. I undress before jumping under the linen, shifting around until I can find a comfortable spot. I'm not even tired, it's still fairly early. I don't get up though. I just lay there on my back, left with my thoughts. But eventually I fall asleep. Before I do though, I come to one conclusion. I would wait, I would help Katniss, because I know from experience, that things like this, take time to mend. The invisible scars left upon ones soul leave a person feeling empty and confused. Your mind tells you one thing whilst your gut tells you another. Katniss waited for me, she gave me space. And I will do the same for her.