Hey there! I know I promised this last month or at least with the first week of the month. In response I have five words: Life as a college freshman. It's new, it's exhilarating, it's scary, it's a jumble of things. My goal though is to continue updating once a month. But we'll see how that works as the year picks up.

Song of Inspiration: Need You Now by Lady Antebellum. This was one of the first ideas I had for these two but I just never really knew how to do it. Funny how your original idea of something can change. Anyways, if it's confusing, feel free to message me or ask questions in your review (please review!). But I think it's pretty self-explanitory. Then again I did write it... ah well, c'est la vie.

Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor
Reachin' for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time
It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without
I just need you now
Another shot of whiskey can't stop looking at the door
Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without
I just need you now
Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothin' at all
It's a quarter after one I'm all alone and I need you now
And I said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without
I just need you now
I just need you now
Ooo, baby, I need you now

Takes place after MJ. Hope you like! :]

Need You Now

Katniss's POV

I stare at the glass in front of me. It's empty again. I can see the wood of the table underneath. Mahogany, something says in the back of my mind. The voice has a slight edge of pride to it, like it personally made the table. I scoff and pick up my knife, only to stab it farther into the wood. A laugh like a hushed bark escapes me as the Effie-like voice shrieks in my head.

The glass disappears from my sight for a second. I don't look up. I know it will return full, like some kind of Capitol magic. And it does. The bourbon blends with the table and my vision swims. The table jumps up, threatening to spill my drink. Leaving me with no choice. I clutch the glass and raise it into the air, draining it in one gulp, before slamming it back down. There. That ought to keep the table in line.

Except now my glass is empty again. I frown, trying to remember when that happened. A different memory surfaces instead. It's loud and angry and it hurts. I flinch and growl, the alcohol thankfully chasing it away. I still can't remember what happened to my drink. I shrug. It doesn't matter. I know how to get more. The knife is in my hand again; ready to signal the Capitol magic. I move to throw it back down, but my something stills my hand.

"The table's had enough, Sweetheart." A voice says above me. "And, I think, so have you."

"Leggo." I say, my words slurring together like melted snow. I try to pull my hand free. The force becomes stronger and the knife is pulled from my grip. I struggle; my signal is gone and, without it, I can't tell the magic when my glass is empty. But now the glass is gone too. I cease my struggling to stare confusedly at the now empty table. Where'd it go?

"Now," the voice says, "you wanna tell me what's going on?"

I feel my lip stick out in a pout at the question. No, I don't want to say what's going on. My drink is gone and I'm tired. The voice sounds tired, I think. I wonder what time it is? Last I knew, it was morning. But that had been before my nap. The table had just been soooo comfy. It's a very nice table, I think, giving the wood a hesitant smile. But someone put these big, mean scratches in it.

"What happened?" I ask, running my hand over a particularly deep scratch.

"What?"

"The table." I reply, my voice soft. "It has an owchie." I look up to show the voice. "See? Right there." I tap my finger against the wood.

My world spins and tilts as I try to focus on the person standing over me. Wow, they're tall. Almost like a tree. That confuses me for a second. Why would a tree be here in Haymitch's house? That makes no sense at all. I scowl in my puzzlement as my vision focuses. The face belongs to a man. He's looking at me all funny. One of his eyebrows is higher than the other and his mouth is pulled down in a frowny-face. He looks familiar, I think, and have to take a minute to place him.

"You're Haymitch!" I tell him, pointing up at his face.

"Um, yes." He says, almost like a question. Is he not sure either? I wasn't.

"I thought you were my father." I tell him with a laugh. Then I say very seriously, "My father's dead."

Not-sure-Haymitch gives a sigh and rubs the skin between his eyes with his fingers. He looks tired. He should sleep more. Tables are good for sleeping. I think about telling him that when I see he's holding a bottle. And my glass. Which still happens to be empty.

"Hey," I whine, squinting at his hand, "that's mine!"

And then I vomit all over the floor.

Peeta's POV

I stare at the counter. Breathe, I tell myself. Just calm down and breathe. I close my eyes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count to ten.

One.

Her grey eyes burn in my mind's eye.

Two.

Her voice is hoarse in my ears after shouting.

Three.

She growls in her frustration, her hands clutching at her head.

Four.

I hear myself shouting back.

Five.

Something's thrown at me. It's her ring.

Six.

She says she's leaving. Not coming back.

Seven.

I shout I don't want her back.

Eight.

The door slams behind her.

Nine.

She left without her coat. It's snowing outside.

Ten.

I pick her ring up off of the floor.

I messed up. I did. Or she did, is more accurate, I guess. God, she messed up bad. And then got defensive. You're always so defensive, Katniss.

I pound the dough on the counter in front of me, channeling my anger into it. I'm still mad. Of course, I'm still mad. The things she said… My vision blurs as I think of our fight again, and I force myself to breathe. Calm down. I've already had two flashbacks since she left. Anger triggers them easier than anything else and they're harder to fight when I feel violent to begin with. And she's not here to guide me back.

My eye catches the glint of her ring. It's sitting on the counter to my right, bathed in the bleak light of winter. Funny, I've never noticed what it really looks like. I found it buried in a drawer in 13 and kept it with me ever since. It's simple; a plain gold band, the varnish slightly worn down. She loved it. I haven't seen her take it off since I gave it to her a year ago. And now…

I find myself blinking rapidly as I go back to my dough, pawing at my eyes with the back of my hand. Why does she have to be so damn aggravating? She knows exactly how to make me snap – just the right words or movements to set me on edge. And then, at the first sign of conflict, she disappears. Gone to treat her unseen wounds and leaving me behind. Always leaving me behind.

I don't know where she goes, either. She never tells me when she comes back. And that's what scares me the most. I'm not afraid she'll ever really leave me – we've both been through too much for that to happen by now. I'm just scared she'll run off and never come back. She'll get hurt or something will happen that won't let her come back to me. My biggest fear is a world without her. A world where I have to live on, but she's not with me. I wouldn't know how to be anymore.

I sigh and make fists around the dough. It's soft enough now. I should put it in the oven, but it's helping. The feel of the starch under my hands, having complete control over some small thing in my life, soothes me. Even if it's only bread. I close my eyes and just focus on it, molding it with my fingers, pulling, stretching, rolling, and pinching.

While I work, I picture Katniss standing next to me. Her dark hair is pulled back and her grey eyes watch my hands. I feel her warmth at my side and her hand covers mine as she plays with the flour in between my fingers. She entwines our hands, hers still covering mine, and runs her thumb over my palm.

"Peeta."

Her voice is like snow, wrapping around my name, kissing it softly before melting with affection. Her breath is warm on my ear, brushing against my sideburns like a spring breeze.

"I'm sorry."

I open my eyes at her whisper. Katniss is there at my side, like I summoned her into being just with my thoughts. She looks at me like a child expecting to be scolded, guilt and sorrow written over her face for only me to see. I move my free hand up to cup her cheek and smile when she tilts her head into me.

How can I be mad when she's looking at me like that? She, who so seldom shows how she's truly feeling. Open displays of tenderness from Katniss are so rare; I have to treasure each and every one. We don't speak – words would simply ruin this moment – and just stand there, our fingers intertwined and our foreheads touching.

I reach behind her for her ring and hold out for her. She smiles, sheepish and shy, and wraps her hand around it. Neither of us let go.

"I'm sorry."

I feel her words rather than hear them as she breathes. I just smile and shake my head slightly at her. She came back to me. That's all that matters. That's all that ever matters. She tries to say something else but I cut her off with a slight kiss. When we part, her cheeks are tinged with a cute pink but she doesn't try to speak. So we just stand in the kitchen, breathing each other in as the snow falls outside.

I'll admit, not the best I've done. I got the idea of Katniss being drunk and I just had to put it in. So sorry if it doesn't feel cohesive with the rest of the piece. Anyways, don't forget to review and add to your favorites/alerts! :]