AN: Hi again! Thanks so much for the follows and favorites. Very cool. And kind of intimidating. But awesome! I want to say a special thanks to Bellanator116, lknights91, Guest (#1), mea, Guest (#2), dauntlessbuttercup, Guest (#3), and Guest (#4), who all reviewed for me. For you anons, I wish I could've responded to your reviews, but. If you want to come say hi, you can always stop by my tumblr if you have one :)

Still don't own Hunger Games.

XXX

The sound of Skype ringing wakes me from a nap later that afternoon. I don't even remember turning the thing on.

I ignore it for a few seconds, rolling over so I'm face down on the mattress. Then, just before I know the call's about to end, I start to feel guilty.

There's really only one person who calls me, and it's been a month since we talked. That's not much longer than usual, especially since we have a three hour time difference, but I can't imagine him ever ignoring my messages like I'm doing to him.

Sluggishly, I pull myself to my feet and stumble over to the ugly, tan desk that comes with every room.

Accepting the call, I rub my eyes wearily.

I hear the buzzing noise that means we've connected, but he doesn't say anything at first. Then, "Catnip?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't see you."

I blink, then hunch over until my face enters the frame. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

His face is even tanner than I remember it being, and his forehead drips with sweat. He's got some semblance of a smile on his face—as least as much as Gale can smile, anyway—so I know he hasn't heard about where I've been. Yet.

Suddenly, I'm dreading his return to campus. I should probably tell him now so he won't get angry about hiding things later, but the words die in my throat.

He shifts, leaning a little closer to his camera. "What happened to you?" he asks. "Don't you ever go outside?"

"Yes?"

Shrugging, he notes the defensive edge in my voice. "You just look like you don't get a lot of sun."

"Because I actually go to class." I'm surprised by my own response. How light it is, how easily the sarcasm comes.

His smirk returns. "Biology any easier?" I shake my head. "Didn't think so. Animals aren't your thing."

Someone knocks on my door and calls, "Katniss?"

It's the RA. She's already stopped by once today, and I'm pretty sure she's just checking to make sure I'm still breathing. I think she's afraid she'll be held responsible if something happens. Or maybe she's just trying to be nice. Which would annoy me more than anything.

My voice is short. "I'm here." Gale's eyebrows furl, and I hold up a finger, telling him to keep quiet.

"We're… we're watching a movie," she starts. "On the first floor. We've got pizza."

Great. She is trying to be nice.

I stare at Gale as I answer, scowling at the way the corners of his mouth twitch. "No thanks, Delly."

"We're just starting it, if you change your mind."

"Okay."

Her footsteps retreat, and I sigh, standing up to make sure my door's locked. It is.

I take a seat in front of the screen as Gale says, "They like you now."

If anything, they like me less than before. I scare them. But it's easier to play dumb, so I do. "Who?"

"The girls on your floor. That why you've been too busy to call me back? You've got new friends?"

His tone's joking, but a deep ache settles in the pit of my stomach. "No."

His forehead wrinkles, and he sits up. "What's wrong with you? Why are you—?"

"I was in the middle of a nap, and you woke me up. I'm tired. I'm going back to bed." I rise to my feet, hunching again so I'm in the frame. "I'll call you soon."

"Alright."

We both hang up, seemingly at the same time.

I sleep until 3 a.m., when the hunger pangs wake me. But I ignore them, curling up into a ball, and fall back asleep.

XXX

The next day, I leave my room five times in all, just for the bathroom. On three of the restroom breaks, I run into Delly, but she's progressively quieter every time we see each other.

At first, she asks how I am, whether or not I like my new room. What movie I'd want to watch next time they have a movie night.

Then, it's how many classes I'm taking this quarter. If we have any together.

Last, it's just a smile and a gentle, "Hey, Katniss."

If I have to pick, that one's my favorite.

XXX

I wake up every morning, knowing I should start the new quarter well and show up to my classes. But before I left the mental house, my doctor said I'd have a week to get settled in. After that, I'd be expected to try. To do homework, to attend everything I can, maybe even join a club or sport. And if it's all too much, I've got a long list of people to talk to, from my counselor, to my doctor, to my teachers, to an anonymous hotline.

But, by now, I've shoved that list in the bottom drawer of my desk where I won't have to look at it. I won't need it, anyway. I'm not returning to school until next Monday, and I'm in some strange state of limbo where even dying seems like too much work.

So I just sleep.

Sleep. Drag myself out of bed to use the restroom. Sleep. Snack on chips. Sleep. See Delly in the hallway. Sleep again.

XXX

On Wednesday, I run out of food. I don't know how that's possible, because I won't get out of bed to eat unless I don't have any other choice. I suppose I didn't bring a lot with me in the first place. Somewhere between the taxi ride back to campus and dodging every single person in my dorm, I forgot to stock up.

I try, but I can't sleep anymore; the sharp stomach pain keeps me awake.

At 10:00 p.m., I peek out into the hallway. Everyone's locked away in their rooms, doing homework, sleeping, getting drunk. Whatever the rest of them do really isn't any of my business, so I've never bothered to find out.

Clad in slippers, sweatpants, and a baggy t-shirt, I take the stairs down to the first floor, then exit out the back way. I wander around campus, my mind clouded by a dull haze. I can't remember where the nearest store is, or restaurant, but the rain doesn't help. It comes down in buckets. Shivers wrack my body.

I keep as far away from the cement path as possible, instead moving from tree to tree, using their branches for shelter.

Finally, my gaze sets on Bon Café. The lights are low, but I don't see any indicator that it's closed.

Slowly, I head towards it, remembering the hot chocolate and croissants and frosted sugar cookies.

I peer inside the window, and nearly all the seats are empty. A few straggling couples and study groups take up tables along the corners, but their plates and cups are bare.

My hand reaches for the handle. The locked door clicks as I pull on it, and the faces inside turn towards me.

I instantly let go and start to leave, just as the door creaks open. Tense, I eye the blonde-haired boy from Witt's office as he fills the doorway.

He takes in my appearance, and I can't help but inspect his. He's wearing black slacks, a white shirt, and an apron with a nametag clipped to it that reads, "Peeta."

He steps back, silently holding the door open for me.

"You're closed," I say, standing my ground.

"It's okay."

Frowning, I follow him inside. To my relief, none of the other customers look up, having already lost their interest in me.

There's a brick fireplace in the corner with one large armchair, a couch, a small coffee table, and a lamp resting in front of it. Preferring not to soak the furniture, or even the carpet, I sit on the red bricks the jut out. He gives me a funny look, one I remember from the first time I talked to him on Monday, but I ignore it.

I hold my hands up towards the fire, enjoying the flames. I'm so caught up in the warmth that I don't think to order anything.

Peeta must realize I'm no goldmine because he leaves me alone without a word.

I shift so I can lean my back against the cool brick. My entire body aches with the effort of crossing campus, especially weighed down by wet clothes. In the past month, I've maybe walked a mile total.

My eyes close on their own accord. It can't be more than twenty minutes before soft fingers ghost along my shoulder. I try my best to shrug them off.

"Katniss."

I'm abruptly aware how quiet it is. The rain outside still pours, the fire crackles, but the other voices are gone.

My eyes open, and I'm on my feet in an instant. As expected, the café's empty.

"It's okay," he repeats. "My boss is in the back. As long as she's here, you won't get in trouble for being inside."

I look at him, unsure why he let me in to begin with. Before I can ask, he holds something out for me. I stare at it, realizing I didn't bring any money. Do I even have cash waiting for me back in my room?

Stiffly, I say, "No thanks." His face falls a little, and his arm drops back to his side. "I don't have any money with me."

"Oh." Taken aback, he pauses. "This one's old, anyway. We made it this morning."

"I just said I can't pay for it."

He pushes the thing towards me again. "Don't wo—"

"I'm not taking it."

For the third time, his expression morphs into something strange as he looks at me. "It's just bread, Katniss."

I purse my lips, about to retort, when a woman's voice speaks up from behind us. "Do you want to get home before 11:00 or not? You haven't put the dishes in the sink yet to get washed." I tilt my head to see past him, but the source of the voice must still be in the back.

Peeta waits me out, as if I'll just take the food. The woman calls again, "Peeta."

He drops the wrapped bread in my lap. The corner of his mouth turns up in a way that screams pity more than anything else. "You should come back to Gov," he says, before trotting off.

XXX

I didn't know he was in my Government class, probably because it's massive and I always sit as far from the front as possible. But the whole way back to my room, I try to figure out where he sits. But I can't remember the classroom anymore since I haven't been there in a month, so I give up.

To keep the rainwater at bay, I shield the bread with my arm. It's warm again my arm, and I feel another twinge of annoyance. It's either fresh or he heated it up, but I wouldn't want it either way.

XXX

Friday afternoon, at 1:35, I enter the Social Sciences building. I pass the same familiar receptionist, go up the same familiar stairs, ignore the same familiar dirty handrail.

I'm fighting against the tide of people pouring out from the classroom on the second floor. I get a few dirty looks, but I don't think anyone glances at my face, let alone recognizes me as the suicidal girl from the Karl Dorms.

At first, I'm relieved that everyone misses me, walks right by me. Then I realize that I've probably missed him, and that defeats the whole purpose of walking over here. I'll have to come back next Wednesday to catch him again.

Sighing, I reach the end of the hallway and the crowd begins to thin out. The slow ones are still leaving class, and I wait outside the door until there's a gap in the steady stream of people.

Frowning, I head inside. There are a few people left, typing, chatting with each other. One is fast asleep, using his arms for a pillow. He always sits near me in the back.

Peeta's not here. If I was irritated before, my mood's a lot worse now.

I scan the seats one more time, just in case. And I hear his voice behind me, saying, "…tell you to do?"

"What?" I snap, spinning around.

I find him standing in front of the teacher's desk on the other side of the room. Ms. Brown sits in her seat, looking up at him. Neither of them seem to notice me.

"Just to be patient," she answers lightly, handing him a stack of papers.

He holds the papers against his chest to keep the pile neat. "Thanks."

"When you give her those, tell her to come find me before Wednesday," the teacher says, and I narrow my eyes.

They're talking about me. He's talking about me. I don't know why he thinks I want anything to do with him, or why he's taken it upon himself to drag me back from the dead, but his actions suddenly make a lot more sense. He thinks free bread and grabbing homework will fix whatever issue I have, and I'll get happy. Why that's his responsibility in the first place, I can't say.

I don't want to deal with Ms. Brown yet, so I leave the room and sit down on a bench in the hallway.

He stays inside for a few minutes longer, apparently not done talking about me, so I just cross my arms over my middle and wait.

Eventually, Peeta rounds the corner, and I just look at him. His eyebrows jump in surprise when he sees me, then he relaxes, putting his right hand in his pocket.

"I didn't see you in class," he says.

"Must've missed me." He nods, and I coolly continue, "You don't need to talk to the teacher about me after all. Or grab my homework."

He blinks, then looks down at the pile of paper in his hands. It's obvious he thinks he's doing me a favor, that he's helping me somehow, but he's not.

"It's…I'm supposed to do that stuff," he mutters, sifting through the papers like he's looking for something. He shrugs. "Peer counselors are supposed to help."

"Free food's not in your handbook."

"We've brought food to people before," he refutes, surprisingly adamant as he looks up at me. "If they want it. A girl got sick with the flu last quarter and she didn't want to leave her room, so we brought her stuff."

"Yeah, but I'm not sick."

His eyes drop again.

While he's distracted, I reach into my back pocket and pull out a five dollar bill. I put it on top of the homework, sliding it underneath his fingers

"Thanks for the bread."

That's all I came here for, so I head back down the hallway without another word.

It's not long before he catches up with me, his mouth set in a straight line. "You aren't going to take the money back, are you?"

"No."

"Fine. We'll trade."

I'm about to protest when he places the Gov papers in my hands. Stopping, I skim the assignment sheet, the outline frame, whatever else Ms. Brown's already given me. I'll shove it in my desk drawer with my suicide safety contact list.

Peeta shifts, moving his backpack to the other shoulder. Aware of the way he's watching me, I fold the sheets and stash them in my sweatshirt pocket.

My walking resumes, and he keeps pace with me. His gentle, friendly expression's back as he asks, "Did you at least eat it?"

I shoot him a sideways glance, my forehead creasing. Embarrassed, I let my silence speak for itself.

His face splits into a smile, with just a hint of pride.