A/N: Well...as you might've guessed, this chapter is completely from Peeta's POV.

At first, I didn't want to look. But he told me to wait until I really missed him and needed it. Oh, I needed it. Because it was seeming like he was going to be away longer than either of us expected. This may be one of the few things I have from him for a while. So after a while, I pull myself out of the bed and kneel onto the ground, pulling open the drawer. All it is...is paper. What? I take my hands and grab all of the papers and pull myself back onto the bed and put them back on. It was a lot of paper, and, without looking into a single one of them, I counted.

Forty-eight.

Every one of them was the same writing. So I began to read.

Dear Peeta,

By the time I've read the forty-eighth one for the millionth time, I'm a complete wreck. He's perfect. He was absolutely perfect. And I can never have him again. I won't ever kiss his soft lips, hold his warm hand, sleep in his arms, stare into his perfect eyes, hear his laugh...

He's dead.

My chest just hurts. My heart is broken. My head is pounding, and I can't really think straight. All I know is that I want him back. I want him back now. I'll do anything to have him back now. Anything at all.

Even end my own life.

It all seems so ironic, really. That this is all happening again. In bed. With the letters.

Kind of sad, really.

I found a razor in the bathroom adjoined to our room, and sat down on the bed, just staring at the sharp piece of metal. I could see my reflection in it. I looked...pathetic. Because he was gone. I had lost everything, in a matter of moments. My capacity to live, my drive for the war, my belief in forever, and my hope in a happy ending.

How did this happen? I try to run through the story in my head. Remembering the training center. This all began there. He was working with the swords...so handsome. Talented. There was something about his confident air that immediately attracted me. And from that moment on...the moment I allowed my heart to love him, I was a complete goner. Because though, at first, I was planning on trying to win to get home...I knew I'd give my life for this boy. Then, the Games. Maybe if I hadn't acted so obvious...but maybe I was just excited that I'd maybe get a day or two of happiness.

But even that desire was punished. No Peeta. You can never be happy. If there is ever anything in this world that even remotely makes you happy, we will destroy it. After all, you're doomed to live a long, sad life, all on your own.

Oh, no. I'll show you. The life'll be much shorter than you think. And then...then, I'll be happy. And you'll be wrong. I'll have beaten you. You'll see.

I open up my eyes to stare at my own reflection in the razor. "Well...this is it." I whisper to myself. I take it to the top of my forearm near my inner wrist. "See you soon, love."

And I cut once.

The pain is immediate, and I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying aloud. I watch as my warm, red blood quickly seeps out of the wound through my teary eyes. Already, my mind is starting to get weak. It knows. We're going to die, now. But we'll get to see Cato. It'll be okay. This'll be over soon.

I raise my arm to take the razor to my wrist again, slicing another cut parallel to the last. Now, I can die. I'll get to sleep in his arms tonight. I can't wait. More red drips down my arm and onto my leg and the sheets, a bit more heavily than before.

I get a little farther up, before cutting in again. Perfect.

One more time. And I feel death approaching more and more rapidly with each gash. Please, get here faster. I need you. I need to die.

No, Peeta.

"Cato?" I whisper aloud. It was him. I know it. I go to cut my arm again, in hopes that this was me getting closer to him.

Stop! Stop, you idiot! You promised me something...Don't you remember?

"...What?" All I can think about is being with him. Now.

You told me three months. If anything happened to me, you said you'd wait three months.

"But...why?"

Didn't you read my letters?

I did. Every one of them. So I do as my dad did, and begin wrapping my right arm with a piece of the sheets, though they quickly stain again with red. "Will you stay if I promise not to do anything to myself?"

I told you that I'm always here with you.

Always.

For a good long while, I just do my best to try and stop the bleeding. Because now, the pain doesn't feel good anymore. Now that I'm determined to live, the cuts in my arm just hurt like hell. I replace the strip of sheets on my arm every half an hour or so, though there are times where I just randomly fall asleep. There are others where I just talk to Cato, and I know I must be insane, but I'd rather be insane than dead at this point-or at least, Cato would've rathered.

"Why?" I whisper in a general statement at somewhere around four a.m.

Why what, Lover Boy?

"Why did you have to go?" My voice is shaking and I'm staring at the ceiling.

But I'm right here, Peeta.

But I know he's not there.

Peeta, please...

I glance over to the main area of the room where there's just empty space...and he's standing there. Just standing there. Smiling. Just as I left him two days ago.

"Love.." I crack out in a whisper, attempting to make eye contact.

He's here. "You came back."

I never left you.

The first thing I do is run to him...but I go right through him. I quickly turn and hold my hands out flat. He places them against mine, but I know if I move, I'll go through him again. But then, I go to intertwine our fingers...and I clasp his hands.

"Cato..." I cry, falling into his arms.

I never left you.

For the rest of the night, I lie there in his arms. And maybe, somewhere in my head, I know I'm insane. And I know he isn't real. But if insanity is how I choose to grieve, then so be it. I don't sleep for a while, for fear I'll wake up and he'll be gone. But then, he starts humming a song that puts me right out. It's been a long day.

I wake up in the morning...and he's still there. But I have a schedule. I have to leave him. Then I look down at my right wrist, and see how red the sheet strip is. I want to get rid of it, but seeing it reminds me that I have three months to wait.

"You can't be dead." I think aloud.

I'm here.

"But you aren't really...I know that."

I'm sorry, Peeta.

The day has to go on.

My schedule starts immediately down in HQ, which is odd for me. But I know they want to talk about him. And I'm not in the mood the talk about it. I'm not ready yet. I can't. But I go nonetheless. When I reach the room, everyone is waiting, but no one scolds me for being late.

I just stare at them for a while as we all sit at the round table. Then, finally, Beetee breaks the silence. "I'm sorry Peeta."

Everyone chimes in some form of agreement, but I can't even respond. It, like my tears, would only affirm his death. I just shut my eyes, giving then a nod before pulling my arms onto the table and resting my head on them.

Then, I hear Haymitch speak with a bit of alarm in his voice. "Peeta, what happened to your arm..?!"

I gaze up at them with empty eyes. "I...tried to kill myself."

"You what?!" Coin shouts.

"I slit open my wrists, to try and bleed myself out. So I'd die." I said sternly. "Clear enough for you?"

"Peeta!" Portia yells, running over to me. She grabs my hand, and I yelp as she touches my wrist.

"I don't want to be rid of it. I did it. It's done."

"But why?" Someone else says.

"What else do I have?"

They tell me how they're going to record propos today to air around.

"The team captured Four." Coin says.

So they'll all be back. Besides Cato. No...no, he'll be back. This is some sick joke. It has to be. He'll be back. He's just surprising me.

You saw him on television, Peeta. He's dead.

That's a lie. A dirty lie.

"They're coming back today." I'll see him today.

"We have some good news though." I look up. I needed good news. "The recon team got Cato's mother safe. They should be back by 1200. They're flying over the woods near Two now in a stolen Peacekeeper hovercraft."

My eyes brighten up a little. He would've wanted her safe. I just wish he'd get to see her again. It drives me insane that he won't. I could cry just thinking about it. Instead, I just whisper, "Thank you."

I head to breakfast and sit by myself at the table for two Cato and I shared our last meal together at. I can't believe that the man who sat at the empty seat only a day and a half ago is dead. Dead. We talked about being married here. Finnick and Annie's wedding...which would happen tomorrow, if they came back today.

So I'd distract myself with the cake for the rest of the day, I decided.

But for an hour or so, I still waited, hoping my eyes would get covered and I'd hear his voice again. "I miss you." I whisper, looking at the empty space and my wrist. Oh god, I miss him. So much more, now, knowing he isn't coming back.

I head into the kitchen on my own between breakfast and lunch and bake serious work on the wedding cake. I just block out everything else and think. About Finnick and Annie. Their love. District Four. The war. Cato.

I finish the entire structure of the cake and start working with the frosting when the chefs come in for lunch. Now my distraction is gone. Ugh. I can't work on the huge cake in the corner I'm pushed into. So I swallow my nerves... And start work on Cato's birthday cake.

It has to be perfect. He'd be nineteen. An adult. Free from the Games. Free from all of that pain. I need it to be perfect for him. I sit in the corner of the kitchen and draw it. Red frosting. Like blood. His favorite color.

Then, I thought about little things about him. So I started writing things that reminded me of him. I'd put them all on the cake. Parts of our relationship. Things he told me he loves. Anything to make him smile again. Oh, I loved him.

I sit for a while after that, waiting for more ideas. After some time, I go back to my room and talk to myself.

Oh god, I am insane.

I need him, though.

My entire body is shaking.

No Peeta.

Three months.

I can't wait that long.

It's only three months.

I can't do it.

What can you do then?

Three weeks, max.

That's just before his birthday, you know.

I couldn't handle that.

Then what?

The day before.

You're really resolved on this, haven't you?

I have.

Why?

I can't live without him.

But he asked you to live.

He'd understand. I am going to wait.. Just not as long.

Not even for his birthday?

That'd make it so much harder...just be happy you're not already dead with me.

Suddenly, there's a knock at my door. It's Beetee. "The team's back with Cato's mother!" Immediately I run out of the room and run down to the elevator. I have to thank her. For protecting me. Giving me Cato. Giving me life to live...if only for another few weeks.

When I reach the loading room, I see the blonde woman, and we both begin to cry.

So she knows.

She runs at me and holds me. And I sob with someone who understands exactly what I'm feeling. Even to maybe a greater degree. "I'm sorry..." I can't help feeling responsible. I took us here.

"Don't be...oh, don't be.." She kisses the top of my head. "You're safe...it's what he would have wanted."

But I wanted him safe.

"I hear you sent them to get me...thank you."

"It was the least I could do. You...saved my life. He missed you. I...wanted you back for his birthday." The one I won't be here for, now, either.

"I...missed him, too." She sighs, voice shaking. "Still do."

"Always will."

I sit and talk to her for a while before deciding I should probably introduce her to my father, so I ask someone to go get him while I take her to Cato and I's room, just to see. I show her his drawer, messy as it ever was, filled with crumpled clothes. She laughs and tells me that's how it was at home, too. His whole room, really. Mine's the one below it, with everything folded neatly in squares.

"You two really did balance out each other well." She smiles, still somewhat teary-eyed, sitting on the chair and crossing her legs in the same, odd way he did-where they were almost completely perpendicular.

"We...I suppose we did." I shut the drawer and sit on the bed, biting my lip. "I...I have a question."

She looks up at me. "What is it?"

I glance away. "Did you...Did you always support us? Even before we met?" I wanted to know if he had anyone. Because he'd always made it clear that his father disapproved.

"You made him laugh." She smiles. His smile. "I don't think I'd ever seen that before. He was always so...so serious. Into the idea of the Games. I didn't care who you were...I just wished he could've had you around sooner."

A/N: And that's that. Review, please. I really do appreciate them. The next chapter has a back and forth with Peeta and his father and Mrs. Belotor.