After a rocky week, things returned mostly to normal. For the most part, both of us acted as if nothing had happened. We went right back into our old routine, neither one of us mentioning the argument and harsh words about the bakery. Peeta simply showed up every evening after sunset when the sky grew too dark to continue working outside, and I began to cook the game I caught and the food I collected. Greasy Sae returned to one meal a day and then started missing days completely.

I wasn't a good cook by any means, but it gave me something to do. The doctor put a heavy emphasis on trying new things and learning new hobbies. It was all a part of taking life one day at a time and exploring who I was and what my life was now meant to be.

"What is that?" Peeta asked one evening, elbow propped up on the kitchen island while he leaned forward on his bar stool.

"Rabbit," I replied, a little confused about the question. I was fairly certain I had mentioned it previously, as soon as he had walked in the door and asked what was for dinner. But perhaps he hadn't heard my response as he shuffled into one of the several bathrooms in the house and hosed down the dirt and sweat from the day. It was comforting, how easily he made himself at home in my house.

"Not the food." The way he said it grated on my nerves, as if he thought I was foolish for not immediately understanding his question precisely.

When he didn't clarify, I turned back to the food and ignored him. Greasy Sae had given me a few crash courses in fundamentals on adding spices and complimenting the meat to the rest of the meal, but it took my entire concentration to try to remember her words of wisdom.

"Katniss," he said after a while. His voice was almost a laugh as he tried to draw my attention away from the thermometer as I checked the internal temperature of the meat.

"What?" I asked impatiently. Once I was sure the rabbit was cooked enough, I pulled it off the burner and turned my attention to the greens on the back burner. While it smelled appetizing, it looked anything but.

"You have to tell me what that is. I know I recognize it, but I can't place it and it's driving me mad."

"What what is?" This time, my reply was more of a snap. It took me three cabinets until I could remember where the plates were. As I pulled out two plates and set them on the counter, Peeta rose from his perch to assist.

"That song you're humming."

"What?" I asked again, unsure of which one of us was more likely to be losing our mind. It was a general toss up on any given day. I had my bad days and Peeta had his. We'd been fortunate enough to never have to suffer through a bad day together, but I was certain the day was inevitable.

"You've been humming the entire time you've been cooking."

Distractedly, I said, "No I haven't." As I loaded up the first plate with food, Peeta handed me the second and took the first, moving it to the table for me and grabbing silverware on his way.

"You definitely have. I can't believe you don't even realize it. Of course, you've never realized the effect you have on people, so I guess it isn't entirely that surprising. It's mesmerizing, actually, the sound. I know it's a song I've heard a hundred times, but I'd starve before I could tell you what it is."

"I think you're imagining things," I told him. In truth, it wasn't that hard to believe. My father had been the exact same way. I loved to sit outside the house and listen to him hum while he skinned the game. Mother wouldn't hear of letting us in the house until the game was either prepped to eat or ready to be seasoned to store. We had sat out there for sometimes hours at a time, and he was a continuous source of lively sounds for background music.

It was both embarrassing to know I did the same thing without realizing it and heartening to realize we shared that trait. He had had so much left to teach me when he died, but there were at least traits that we shared and things I had learnt from him.

"It's nice," Peeta said, as if sensing my embarrassment. Sometimes I wished he wasn't able to so easily read me. There were a few things I would rather have kept to myself. "It's one of the things I love about you."

The slotted spoon almost slipped from my hand as he said it. It had been such a long time since he had professed feelings to me, and even longer since he had said them and I had actually believed them. The way he said it was so casual, as if he were simply commenting on the weather. I wondered vaguely if it was even still possible, for Peeta to love me. After everything he had been through, and everything Snow had conditioned him to believe, how could be possibly still be able to harbor such feelings?

"I never had a chance," he said as he returned to the stove and took the other plate from me. I continued to hold the slotted spoon in my hand, turning to watch his retreating back as he made his way back to the table and set the plate down. "After that day in school, when I heard you sing," he continued as if he could not tell my shock and unease. "As soon as you started that first verse in that timid, unsteady voice, I knew I was always going to be yours. Though I doubted you would ever settle for the baker's son."

The spoon left my hand with a clatter as I gripped the counter instead. I thought I had gotten past the point where Peeta could open his mouth and so harmlessly throw my entire world off kilter. The words he so easily spoke were so hard for me to believe, and even harder to react to.

When I failed to sit down at the table, his glanced up from where he had taken his seat. "Did I forget to grab something?" he asked, glancing around the table and taking stock of the plates.

To cover for myself, I grabbed the remainder of a loaf of bread from the previous day out of the bread box and carried it to the table, breaking it in half as I walked to keep my hands busy and my mind focused on something other than what he had said.

Dr. Aurelius had told me to focus on putting myself back together before I focused on my relationships with others, especially Gale, Peeta, and my mother. I was certain he gave Peeta similar advice, particularly when it came to me. But as I approached the table, I saw a look in his eye that I hadn't seen in a while. A glint of hope, as if he was contemplating his own words and wondering what the future could hold for us. I had thoughts along the same lines, but mine revolved around the last time I had dropped my guard and kissed him. I certainly had not forgotten how he had withdrawn and how it had thrown him off balance. I was not eager to do it again.

When I placed half the bread onto his plate, he caught my wrist and held me there. Though the sentiment was still painfully fresh in my mind, I couldn't move as he shifted in his seat and half stood. If I were to be completely honest, I would say I even leaned down partially to meet him as his head tilted up as his hand pulled me down. It was a terrible idea, for a million different reasons, and yet neither of us made any effort to stop it. Peeta was being risky and I was being selfish, because I couldn't help but admit that I had enjoyed it before. I craved that feeling he was able to elicit within me, one I hadn't known I was capable of experiencing before that time in the cave.

It did not escape my mind that Peeta managed to shine a light even in the darkest of times. His optimism and hope and love were infectious and though it had caused me headaches in the past, I couldn't help but be grateful for it. I had no idea what the future held, but I wanted to believe it would at least be better than what we had just been through. It felt as if we had hit rock bottom, and there was nowhere left to go but up. When his lips met mine, I didn't pull away. But I did restrain myself, and I refused to deepen the kiss.

We had an endless amount of time stretched out before us, and little responsibilities to fill it. There would be plenty of time to explore and define and sculpt whatever lied ahead. In that moment, I just wanted to be selfish and foolish. I wanted to enjoy it, and not worry about what it meant. It didn't have to mean anything, I reasoned as he kissed me again, and again. Not yet, at least. In that moment, we were simply two teenagers, exploring and perhaps being a little stupid. We didn't have to be survivors of the war or victors of the Games. We were just Peeta and Katniss, two strangers that had known each other since they were five, but hadn't known each other until the past few years.

Perhaps our reaping for the Games didn't have to define us or our relationship completely. Perhaps there was something else out there for Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve. We could be Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the friends from District Twelve. And maybe more.