Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts.

This is loosely based off the song Last Kiss by Taylor Swift.

I made this as a scene/lyric college thing a few years ago and it wasn't really real fanfiction. I've wanted to take it down, but then thought maybe I could rewrite it; make it a true songfic.

Thanks! -k

I wish I wasn't alive. Death is my only true escape. Why haven't I tried again since the day I killed Coin? I guess I know, as much as I hate to admit it, as much as I hate to even think his name, he's the reason. The only one left.

I still can't shake his hand from my shoulder or eyes on mine from when he stopped me from bitting into the nightlock the last time I saw him.

The longing for release grows so strong anytime an opportunity arises. When Greasy Sae is cutting food and turns away for a moment. Or when I ran out of soap in the bathroom a few days ago and while looking for a new bar, found a razor.

Each time, he holds me back. Each time, it's a different memory. Some part of him nags at me, regardless of how small or unimportant it might seem and keeps me from the act.

I might think about the swing of his step. He was heavy footed in our first Games, and it annoyed me. It ended up even louder after. Uneven from his prosthetic leg, I realize I know the sound by heart and would recognize it anywhere. It never held him back; he could still be the life of the Capitol parties— distracting and charming even the worst of them.

Then I remember us dancing, around and around. I dreaded dancing at those parties from the second Effie announced she would be teaching us. I planned excuses beforehand to avoid as much swaying as possible. I wore those excuses out, fending off anyone I could say no to, but I always danced with Peeta. It was one of the only times we could sneak in a private cryptic whisper during one of those events.

In the last few days, when I'm staring at the wall my mind has wondered to him more frequently. The initial pain is numbing little by little, so that must be the reason. My mind's starting to open, allowing me to think about more of the past. I think about our kisses. Not in a lovesick, foolish way, but subjectively. So many were shared that I could never count them. I've always sorted them into two groups, the ones strictly for cameras and crowds, and the ones that made me feel something stronger, deeper. One of the kisses we shared in the cave and the beach kiss are the only two that fall under the latter.

When it comes to the fake kisses, I can't help but smile at the memory of the ones he initiated to save me from having to talk. He'd always know if there was a question I wanted to avoid, which were almost all of them, and he could sense what we could get out of by playing the lovestruck teenagers angle.

I realize, our last kiss doesn't fall into either category. I can't believe that was our last kiss. The last time I kissed him was for bringing him out of a Capitol-created mind-altering state. How fittingly.

I want to know about Peeta. I could ask Sae but she probably doesn't know anything to tell me. I could ask Haymitch the next time he stumbles over here and searches for alcohol, but I won't. Peeta is better off without me, and now he must have finally realized it. The only good part about his hyjacking is that he can finally see me for the selfish, awful mutt I am and be free to forget me.

I hope he can be happy: start a new life wherever, with whomever. Maybe here or there, he'll wonder about what would have been had he came back here, if he had decided to waste his life staying by my side. I hope he doesn't think of me often.

He's likely still in the Capitol getting treatment. Hopefully he won't have to be there long. I hope it's nice where he is or where he's going. I wonder how he'll decide where to go out of all the districts. I do hope that I'll get to know how he decides to spend his life. While I sit here and do nothing, going back and forth between wanting to live and die. Too scared to try to do anything and too cowardly to put myself out of my misery.

Maybe he'll send me photos from his wedding or of his children out of pity. Pity for the sad, lost girl that used to be something to him for some inexplicit reason. If he returns to even a shell of his previous self, he will be that forgiving.

I drift off; my imagination weaving through future possibilities and past memories.

The Training Center is scattered with figures around me. I'm back on the roof and Peeta's on the other side, his leg still intact and bleeding. They're taking him away from me. I'm in autopilot, and I know it will happen before it does. I hurl my body against the glass screaming. I've seen this replayed so many times on Capitol screens. A fan favorite star-crossed lovers moment. I can't move to defend myself against the needle I know is coming before everything goes black.

I open my eyes to our reunion. I had no idea how my life was about to change forever. I run into his arms and I can feel the beat of his heart. Just as sudden as the jolt when our bodies collided, it's raining. Then, when I open my eyes, the rain stops and we're back in the cave. I see Peeta looking up at me. He tells me he loves me.

"Then why did you go away?" I whisper through tears.

Without another word, he disappears. I grasp at him but he's gone and I can't get him back. I look all around but he's gone. Snow has surely snatched him away from me. Like he did in the second arena. It's my fault. I can't save him. I can't. I can't—

"Peeta!" I gasp as I wake from the nightmare. My chest rises and falls as fast as every night. I sit up, wiping the tears that stain my cheeks. I wish he was here to hold and comfort me like he did those nights on the train. I need him to calm down.

Standing up, I start on one of the very few missions I've attempted since getting home that didn't lead me to the bathroom.

I don't know exactly what I'm looking for, but Peeta, which I won't find. I just need something, a piece of him to help me feel better. I think of the pearl he gave me. I think of how I lost it.

I struggle up the steps and into my bedroom for the first time in months. I try not to notice Prim's door as I go by.

I fumble around, looking in my drawers, hoping maybe I'll find clothes from him. I know I won't; it's pretty much impossible. He never stayed over here, my mother wouldn't have allowed that. But I'm desperate and I search. If I had anything of his I'd put it on and sit down on the floor and try to gather myself. But I don't have his clothes and I don't have him and I'll never see him again. I feel more tears slip from my eyes and I sulk back to the couch as light begins to filter over the top of the curtains.

Peeta came back. I've only saw him once. He was planting Primrose outside for me. I still can't believe it. I don't know why he's back. The district is nothing but rubble. Haymitch and I are the only two people here he'd care about. Obligation must have brought him back. To Haymitch, to clean him up and make sure he doesn't drink himself to death. To me.

I wish he hadn't come home. I hope for his sake that he realizes his mistake and leaves as fast as he can. Because now that he's here, I know we won't be able to stay away from each other long. My resistant isn't as strong as it used to be, I wouldn't be able to stand to shut him out.

When I saw him, it made me realize how much I miss human contact. In the past months, I've grown accustom to Buttercup's hisses and occasional purrs. Sae feeds me and keeps me alive, but she quickly gave up on the one-sided conversations.

This should unfold on Peeta's time, not mine; I'm not the one who was brainwashed to believe the other was a monster. It's amazing to me that he can stand to be in the same district with me—let alone have only a house and a drunk between us.

It's been a few days since he came back. In the time, I've willed myself to do more than I have since getting home. I've showered and brushed my hair. Looked in the mirror. I wasn't exactly surprised by what looked back at me, but it was still strange to see. Burns that I've felt or seen reflected back at me. The choppy, seared hair that hung off my head and the beady eyes staring.

I try to shake the memory as I sit here, back on the couch. I can see outside that the sun's starting to come out, a new day is coming. Sae should be here for breakfast any minute. I'm sure she will be surprised to see me already awake.

Before I know it, Sae comes through the door like clockwork. Her brows raise slightly on her way in when she spots me. She tries to be casual, goes straight to the stove, her granddaughter sitting down at the table. Greasy Sae cracks an egg, watching it fall into the hot skillet.

As I'm wordlessly watching her cook, the front door opens again, slower this time. He pops his head in, as if asking for permission to come in. I don't know why he wouldn't just knock, but I guess that's too formal. I'm glad he didn't. I would have thought it was someone coming to take me away, or whisk me back on a train straight to the Capitol. He understands that.

"Peeta! How wonderful." Sae waves him inside. He shoots a glance at me, before walking in to the room. He sits a small basket of bread down on the counter. The little girl runs straight for him, wanting to see what he has brought. Sae scolds her, telling her to use her manners.

But of course Peeta is happy to show and tell her all about the different kinds and how he made them. She picks up a roll, and happily starts in on it as he continues talking about baking. Lastly, he points to a cheese bun, and sneaks a quick look over his shoulder at me, but I catch him. At the end of his spill, he tells her that they're my favorite.

Sae finishes my eggs and carries them over. Unlike most days, I reach out to take the plate from her. Peeta comes in behind her with a saucer plate, my favorite atop it. I take the plate from him.

"Thank you." After I say the words, I chance a look at his face. He smiles. He doesn't move yet and there's an awkward stall. He doesn't know what to say or do for once. Before he can decide to sit beside me or go back to the kitchen or leave, Sae tells him she's making him breakfast. He thanks her, going back to the table and sits with her granddaughter. Before Sae serves him, I get up and sit between them, coming to the table for the first time in months. The little girl looks at me thoughtful, and Peeta looks happy. For the first time since I saw him planting the flowers, I feel a bit happy too.

We finish eating and Peeta helps Sae with the dishes. Sae and the girl go home, leaving me alone with Peeta.

"Why did you come back?" I don't plan on saying the words, they just slip out. Peeta looks slightly hurt, and definitely off-put by this. Of course it comes out wrong. I quickly add, "Not that I'm not glad to see you. I just don't know why you'd come back to this," back to me. "There's not much left for you here. You could go anywhere else. Get far away from all these awful memories." I get a flash of him on the train home after our first Games, saying he didn't want to forget. Maybe I shouldn't, maybe it's a cowardly thought, but I'd still like to forget.

"You," That's all he says. All he has to say before standing up, giving my hand a swift pat and heading to the door.

I prepare to feel sick, guilty, awful—but the dread never comes. He's here for me, and I'll be here for him. That's what we do, what we'll continue to do.

That's all I see of him for the rest of the day.

The next morning he comes to breakfast, once again baring bread. I can tell— or hope at least— that this will become a new ritual. After breakfast, I go back to the couch. Peeta starts towards the door.

"Peeta," I remember all the times I ask this question before, "Will you stay with me?"

He turns around, facing me, "Always."

I scoot over to make room. He sits a safe distance away, but close enough to touch without reaching. We don't really do anything the rest of the day. We don't have to. The silence is welcome and comfortable. Every few minutes, or hours, he'll ask me a question that ends in "real or not real." I worry that these questions will dive into complicated territories but they don't today. I ask him small things to fill the conversation. It's a nice day of fumbling back together, even just a little.

At lunch time, Sae comes back, trying to hid her smirk as she flicks on the burner. After eating, Peeta says he should probably get home. I tell him goodbye and I'm alone again. But I don't feel nearly as alone as before.

And for the first time I wonder if it's possible that that sloppy, desperate kiss won't be our last.