Hey.

So, this is like...dramatic. A lot.

I wouldn't tell you to go get a tissue box or anything, but I know while I was writing this, it exhausted me.

Emotions are hard. :P Especially when you aren't the one actually feeling them.

But here's the roof top – Enjoy! Thank you for all the Reviews/Favorite/Follows.

I love you so much I could just stalk you...

...

I remember one time long ago, when I was fourteen years old – I was chased by a bear. I really wanted the hive of honey that dangled over my head, but then again, so did the grizzly that stood on the other side of the wide oak. The climbing match, and then the race back to the fence, not only were physically exhausting, but the rush of adrenaline didn't seize even when I reached town.

Let's say my heart had never pounded that fast in all my life.

Until now.

Not once do I break eye contact with Katniss. Her eyes are so close to spilling tears, I can see her jaw clenching though, holding them back. The infamous crease between her eyebrows make a reappearance. She isn't angry – no.

But she's upset – and if my Katniss-reading abilities are proving themselves tonight, I recognize the look in her eyes.

It's the look I get from the teachers when I fail a test – my wrestling coach when I let a weaker man purposefully pin me – Madge when I lose focus and miss the 10 point buck –

It's disappointment.

"Well," Caesar breaks in. "That really is bad luck."

"Yeah," I murmur, glaring at my shoes. I can't take that look from Katniss – I could handle the shame in my teachers eyes and even Madge – but hot Katniss. Not the person who means more to me than she'll even know. I can still feel her gaze on my face, and that isn't helping.

"You're a brilliant man, Peeta Mellark," Caesar says genuinely, clutching my hand in his and shaking it firmly. "You'll rise to the occasion."

I muster up a smile, "Thank you."

"But if it's any consolation, I think that perhaps Miss Everdeen returns those feelings?"

The crowd hoops and hollers – screaming all kind of gibberish that I can't begin to make out. The cameras are focused on both of us, and I don't know what to do or say. Should I go out to her? Say I'm sorry for being a moron? But it's for her own good –

"Maybe they'd like to discuss this now?" Caesar winks at me and I immediately panic. No, please. But I don't have to because the buzzer goes off. The audience groans in protest. "Or maybe later..."

Caesar addresses goodnight to Panem, all the while, I find myself inching closer and closer on the edge of my chair towards the stage stairs. I can't let her leave – I have to apologize. Katniss looks down at her hands in her lap, and it's then that I see a single tear fall onto the fabric of her dress.

"Caesar Flickerman live from the Capitol saying Goodnight and Happy Hunger Games!" The lights shut off, leaving the audience in low light. I drop into a dead sprint towards the stairs screaming for Katniss as a wave of pesky spectators make way towards the exit. I can see the top of her head, even for as short as she is, weaving in and out of the crowd, trying to get away from me, I assume. Capitols citizens pat me on the shoulder, wishing me luck, some even wiping leftover tears from their cheeks. I try to be courteous, but they're in my flipping way. I think one huffs negatively at me when I shove a couple to the side to get through.

When I finally get out to the hallway though, she's gone, not a flicker of fire to be seen.

I lost her.

In more ways than one.


"Katniss?" I knock frantically on her door.

"She's not in there," Haymitch says from the end of the hall, glass of brandy in hand. "She's on the roof and pretty upset, too."

I cringe. How bad would it be? When I got to the roof would she scream at me? Try to shove me off?

I storm past Haymitch to the stairs. "If you happen to hear screaming," I say, turning to him. "Come make sure no ones dead."

He gives me a sad smile before nodding and waltzing off to his room.

When the cold air hits my face, I immediately know that it is way too cold tonight for Katniss to be up here. She could get sick.

I look over and spot her a few feet away, standing at the railing looking over the sparkling Capitol. She's still in her dress, but the glow is gone, and now she just looks like the life has been sucked out of her.

"Why are you here, Peeta?" she asks, not glancing back once.

"You know why," I say coming up behind her. I take my jacket off and place around her shivering frame. She looks at me ready to protest. "It's cold."

She slips her arms through the sleeves which are way too long on her, looking quite adorable. "Thank you."

She's being overly formal and it bugs me. Be normal Katniss, please.

"Why are you doing this, Peeta?"

Do you even have to ask?

"You know that answer, too."

She spins around, eyes crazed – angry. Her lips are set in a firm line. "Do I? Because I didn't realize things ran that deep for you until tonight. So much for honesty."

"Well you know you haven't been exactly truthful with me either!" I snap back.

"When haven't I been honest?"

"Um, did you forget the training scores?"

She freezes, chewing through her words, and looking more hurt than I've seen her. "I can't – I can't – I," she shakes her head and stares at the ground. "That's different."

My voice is rising to dangerous hurtful levels. "How is that different, Katniss? Why? Because I love you?"

"Do not say that," she barks, jabbing a finger at me. "If you value my sanity, do not tell me you love me."

I clutch the hand that's been pointing accusingly at me in both of mine and bring it to my chest over my heart. I pray that she can feel how frantically it's beating for her – maybe she'd understand.

"Do you feel that?" I ask. My voice trembles, but I can't stop it. Not now. "It's beating because of you – because you saved me," I stammer. "And I don't care if you don't want it, but this," I flatten her palm on my chest peck and close the remaining space between us. "This is yours, and it will be until it stops beating."

I look down at her, and I can see more tears roll down her cheeks. Her flutter shut and she rests her forehead on my shoulder, leaning into me.

"Damn it, Peeta," she whispers, and I can feel her lips moving against my shirt and the tears soaking through the fabric. "We can't both win. What if I die? What happens to your heart then?"

Well that isn't going to happen, Katniss.

"It breaks."

She swallows loudly. "What if you die? What am I supposed to do? What do I - ," a sob cuts her off and she throws her arms around me, pressing her tear soaked face into my neck. "You can't tell me that. Not now – maybe in a different life we could have been something. But this isn't it. There isn't time. Not now."

I bite the inside of my cheek really hard, because up until now, crying was the last thing on my mind, but now it's on the brink of spilling over. "I'm sorry," I whisper because I fear my voice will crack under the emotion stuck in my throat. "I'm so sorry."

We stand like this for a while, she letting me hold her. Even though the lights may be bright from the city, it doesn't cut out the stars. And they dance.

"We have a little time now," I say softly into her hair. It still holds the faint scent of frosting and warm bread and I bask in it. "What do you want to do?"

She wraps her arms tighter around me. "I want you to hold me."

So I do.


We do have to head back inside eventually. Tomorrow is the Games, and we both need sleep.

I walk her to her room, her hand in mine. She's almost dead on her feet – it's been a big day, and tomorrow an even bigger one. She refuses to let go of my hand, and when I say goodnight and turn to leave she holds it even tighter in hers.

"I want you to stay with me."

I nod, "Always."

She lures me into her room, which is almost an exact copy of mine and kicks her shoes off. They land somewhere towards the bathroom.

She looks at me, eyelids low with sleep and shrugs off my jacket, dropping it on the floor. Her hands fly up to the buttons on my shirt and undo them skillfully slow. I try to remind myself we are just sleeping, but my lusty teenaged brain can't help but fantasize about a different ending. My shoes and pants follow hastily, leaving me in nothing but an under shirt and boxers.

I help her undress, too, pulling pins out of her hair and being totally mesmerized at the flowing, chocolate tendrils that begin to spill around her shoulders. And I help her with the dress as well, and when she asks me to unzip her; I do it professionally and maturely. I'm relieved, yet slightly disappointed when I find she's wearing a slip underneath.

Then she walks away from my hands and pulls back the covers, set on sleeping in this, I guess. I crawl under them with her, our limbs tangle and my arms come around her. The only thing my exhausted brain can process is how soft and warm everything is around me.

Cherish it, Mellark, I tell myself. This is your last chance.

As tired as she is, she still responds with soft sighs when I press gentle kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and nose. And when I pull back, she's smiling, though small. Her head comes to rest on my chest and we lay there quietly for a while, but not sleeping yet.

Or maybe I do – I'm not sure because I think I'm dreaming. A picture of two children, a girl and boy with a mix of our faces run through the meadow back home. They're giggling, safe from Games.

The chubby, well-fed toddler romps over to a smiling Katniss who picks him up and kisses his rosy cheeks.

And Katniss looks at the little girl who is running towards me, bow and arrow in hand, giggling. The sun is setting and the sky is just beginning to turn that one shade orange that made me always think of hope –

"I can hear your heart," Katniss murmurs, breaking me from the dream. She pauses and looks up at me. "Is it really mine?"

I nod. "Forever."

And my heart stops when she says the next words, even though I can tell she's fighting to get them out.

"You can have mine forever, too, if you'd like."

Ah-hem. I have a long author's note...

Tthe idea of Katniss and Peeta sleeping in the same bed came from Someone to Watch Over Me by AuthorsCamelot. It's one of the best HG fanfics I've ever read. You should check it out!

I've had several people ask me for Katniss or Haymitch POVs, and I apologize, but I can't do a Katniss POV because it would cause spoilers for future chapters :P Sorry. But I would be happy to do a Haymitch POV for next chapter, perhaps?

Review and let me know if that would be something you'd be interested in reading! I love writing for Haymitch!

ALSO, I've been working on chapters that don't happen until MUCH later in the story since I've been so excited about getting there – but here's an excerpt! And if people like the ideas of future excerpts, I may continue to give one or two sentence blubs...? Let me know!

This chapter in my Word Doc is titled "Truths."

"Do you know how Gale died, Peeta?"

"Illness," I say hesitantly. I don't quite know the full extent of what happened – but I know it wasn't curable.

She stares at me quietly, eyes still blank, yet taking on that violent edge deep in their grey pools. It was the face she made at Caesar when he asked her why she volunteered.

You should never have to choose.

Thanks!

-Katie