She wanted to sleep in her bedroom, but Peeta didn't even want to look at it. They ended up in the downstairs guest bedroom. He watched her closely, worriedly, and only left her truly alone long enough to use the toilet. Once she was in bed, he sat close to her on top of the sheets, soothed her to sleep by running his hand over her messy hair.

"You're right, your hair gets really tangled really quickly" he commented, fingering a knot near her left ear.

"I never learned to take care of it," her voice sounded exhausted, "Dad said I had his mom's hair. She was beautiful. Wore it down a lot. People still talked about it, her really, when I was a kid."

"Hm. Yours is nice too, you just have to be gentle, patient."

"Oh, so the things I'm naturally the opposite of?" She smirked at his annoyed expression. "You don't have to say it, you think I'm secretly all those things."

"You are." He went back to smoothing down her hair. "Maybe…"

She waited for a long time, but he didn't say anything.

"Maybe what?" she asked.

"Maybe you should move into my house. Or I could come here? But I'd prefer it if you came with me. There are six bedrooms." Their eyes met, "I don't like it. You, here, alone. Maybe if we were in the same house, you'd feel less lonely."

"You don't trust me," she corrected, and she couldn't even get mad about it. Not after the day they'd had.

Peeta nodded. "Not with your life."

She sighed; her lips turned down "Prim's in this house."

He stopped moving his hand, grief, like hers, in his eyes. "She'll be with you, no matter where you live. Trust me."

"Is your family in your house?" she asked. He started moving his hand again.

"Yeah, everywhere actually. Town, my house, the woods."

"That sounds painful." She whispered.

"It is," his eyes moved towards the window for a moment. "Prim will follow you too." His eyes came back to her.

"What about the flowers?"

"I'll move them," he paused. "We'll move them. If you want."

The room went still. Her eyes started to drift.

"Don't leave, when I fall asleep." She looked at him, "Please?"

"But-"

"We're never going to be normal," she tentatively lay a hand on his face. "Okay? It's just the way it is. You want to take care of me, so stay."

It was unfair, she knew it, but it worked. He wouldn't lay next to her, but he settled into the blue armchair by her bed.

She slept.

She woke up to the sunrise. Her eyes fluttered across the room, appreciating how golden fingers of light touched everything, giving the space a surreal atmosphere. Her head felt heavy, as if she had cried herself to sleep. She groaned a half-awake complaint.

She heard limbs shifting and turned to look towards the armchair. Peeta was there, looking like he'd crumpled into sleep uncomfortably. She sighed with relief.

There were birds in the distance. They're thirsty her father had said to her once, jokingly. They're calling for rain.

Out of all the people she'd lost throughout her incredibly short life, her father's death was the only one she couldn't blame herself for directly. Thinking about him though… it still hurt.

There were more birds singing outside, answering each other's calls.

"Katniss?" she turned towards the chair. Peeta's voice was rough with sleep. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered. The morning felt too still for conversation. He didn't speak again. She watched as the sunlight steadily filled the room.

She turned her head, his name on her lips, Peeta, come see, it's your favourite colour. The words stayed in her mouth. He was asleep.

She leaned back against her pillows, eyes on the window. The curtain was slightly ajar and billowing with the morning breeze. She could see pine trees and, in the distance, the blue rolling mountains that were characteristic to her home.

She filled her lungs with mountain air. Maybe she could have a good day today.

Slowly, so as to not make a sound, she inched her toes towards the edge of the bed. She cringed at the sliding sounds the sheets made against her legs, but of course, it was too quiet to awake her companion. She stood up carefully, her head felt strange. As if she had cotton in her ears.

The floor was cool against her bare feet. She walked around the bed in a quiet arch, balancing carefully on her toes. The cat was curled up around Peeta's forgotten shoes, at the legs of his chair. It glared at her as she walked past, tail flickering.

She grasped the doorknob slowly, again, as if the softest sound would wake him.

She turned to look at the back of the chair, slowly turning the knob. Nothing moved against the blue upholstery. Peeta's hair was still visible on the left where his head had collapsed. His nose made a whistling sound. He was sleeping deeply.

She pushed the door open. It creaked. She held her breath, her muscles clenching with the effort to remain quiet. She waited. Nothing happened.

She closed the door behind her, taking longer than necessary to release the doorknob for fear of any sharp noises. Once she stepped away from the bedroom, she let out a deep breath of relief.

Behind her a doorknob jingled.

She spun around, momentarily confused about where she was and she reminded herself that they'd slept downstairs in a spare bedroom. Her heart was drumming against her chest, like an insistent woodpecker. She walked down the hall and was just stepping into the foyer when Greasy Sae pushed open the front door.

"Oh, you're up early, girl." The older woman looked taken aback at the sight of her. She couldn't blame her. She was rarely awake before her arrivals; the sounds of cooking were typically her cue to get out of bed.

"Good morning," she mumbled, her eyes remained avoidant. The simple act of interacting with another person made her feel unsteady, that's how strange it was to awake from the previous night into an average morning.

"Hi, Ms. Katniss," Sae's granddaughter beamed at the older girl. She skipped into the room with toddler-like enthusiasm, already on her way to the kitchen.

"Didn't sound good in here last night," Sae called over her shoulder, already in the kitchen herself. "Like cats and dogs."

Right. The whole village could probably hear the yelling from her house.

Katniss ignored the comment and sat down on a barstool. Greasy Sae's granddaughter was on the floor next to her, a ball of yarn in her hands.

"I know you can take care of yourself. It ain't really my business anyhow," Sae said but Katniss recognized concern in her tone. "Men and women fight, is all."

Katniss made a noncommittal sound. Guilt roiled in her stomach, Peeta's crying face was printed inside her eyelids.

"You're alright by yourself with that boy?" The question took her by surprise.

She scoffed at the concern in the elderly woman's voice. Ridiculous. "Of course."

Sae turned back to her chore and didn't say anything else, but she worried about what people in town were saying if Sae felt that bringing it up was the decent thing to do.

Just as she grew considerably worried about what people were saying about Peeta there was a loud crash from the other room followed by the cats' screeching. She heard Peeta scramble to his feet despite the walls in-between them. Instinct pushed her to her feet; in a flash she was running in his direction.

"Katniss!" He called. She saw him yank the door open, a crazed look in his eye. He calmed slightly at the sight of her but not by very much.

"I was in the kitchen," she reassured him breathlessly, he was breathing hard trying to calm himself.

"You were gone."

"I was in the kitchen," she repeated. His hands were shaking, and she felt awful because her behaviour could push him into an episode.

"Come," she tugged him out of the hall and towards the kitchen. "Have breakfast, come."

He was still breathing fast when he walked into the kitchen. If he was surprised to see Sae and her girl, he didn't show it.

"Ma'am," he nodded at Sae, he managed a grimace which must have been intended as a smile for her granddaughter, "Daisy."

Sae wished him a good morning and cracked another egg.

"I," he coughed. "Uh, I'll be in the yard for a bit." He walked off but shot her a look.

She wandered over to the window next to the back door, mostly so she could watch him, but also so he could see she wasn't running off anywhere. She watched him kick some rocks around, his hands clenching open and closed.

"Is he alright?" She jumped, having already forgotten Sae was there. She looked over at her and saw she was dishing out eggs onto two plates.

"Yeah, he's fine." She looked out the window again. Peeta was on the ground, yanking grass out by the handful.

"You can eat now," she looked back at Sae, she had eggs and toast waiting on the breakfast table. "Call your boy in, come on Daisy."

"Thank you, Sae. You can stay, if you'd like" She rushed the offer in an attempt to rescue some semblance of neighbourly politeness.

"That's alright," she took her granddaughter's hand. "Take care, girl."

She nodded and flashed a half smile their way but her mind was elsewhere.

She waited for the pair to get to the front door before she bounded down the backdoor's steps and into the yard.

"Peeta, are you okay?" She walked towards him tentatively, her bare feet growing wet from the morning dew. He looked up at her, his eyes squinting against the morning sun.

"Hey... I'm just shaky," he sighed and looked away, playing with his fingers. "I think watching you try to kill yourself twice in one lifetime is my limit, you know?"

She frowned. "I'm sorry," she said and dropped down onto the grass next to him.

"Are they gone?"

"Yeah. I think we scared them away," she admits and leaning back on her hands. The dew had soaked her pants, but she didn't mind. "There's food in the kitchen."

He wrinkled his nose, "Not hungry."

"Yeah, me neither." She looked off into the distance for a while, the morning sounds of the village enveloping them. Doors opening and shutting, geese shouting, people talking.

She bumped their shoulders together and he looks over at her with something that could be a smile.

"What?" He bumped her in return.

"Nothing." but she smirked a bit. They looked off into the distance again and the silence was better, more comfortable.

Her eye fell a swallow, flitting among the shrubs that form the border between the yard and the forest. It flit quickly from one spot on the ground to another, getting closer to them with every step. It stopped at a safe distance, only to go back in the direction from which it came.

She looked over at Peeta. He lay on his back, arms wide open and his eyes shut. A piece of grass stuck out of his mouth, and he looked to be chewing on it. If she didn't know him any better, she'd think he was at ease.

"Did you sleep okay?" At her question, his eyes cracked open to study her expression. She has no idea what he saw.

"I slept some," he conceded. "You slept a lot. Like you were knocked out. You didn't even twitch or move around."

"Hm."

She grew quiet again. Her eyes fell back on the trees. A squirrel scurried up one. It paused, sensing the presence of a potential threat, she imagined, before scurrying away again.

"I think the new pills are too strong," she admitted after another long silence.

Peeta looked at her, she could feel his gaze on her cheek. "What makes you say that?" He asked.

"I woke up feeling strange, heavy." She looked down at her fingers, she's braided the long sweetgrass there. "They make me feel strange. Detached too."

"You should call the doctor then," he pushed himself back into a seating position. "It took a while for them to find a good combination of pills for me when I was in the hospital. It's probably going to take them a while with you too."

She traced her finger along the long braid she'd made with the grass. She didn't unravel it.

"I also think you need to talk to someone about last night," he continued. She frowned, her eyes trained on the grass and refusing to look into his face. "I don't think talking to me about it will be any good either, I'll just flip out."

"I don't want to talk about it," she said it quietly, biting hard on the inside of her cheek, biting still as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "They're going to ship me off to a hospital or something."

"Maybe," he agreed and her hands balled into fists with worry. "Maybe not. If you do end up committed though, I'll come with you."

She blew out a puff of air, "I don't think that's how that works, but thanks for offering."

He reached out for her hand, wrapping her smaller one in his larger and warmer one. She looked up at him. His eyes were kind. "Hey, it'll be okay. I really don't think they'll send you to a hospital anyways. You wouldn't do well in one."

"The doctors would be too scared of me?" her lips twitched with the shadow of a smile.

"Terrified," he agreed. "Come on," he tugged her up to her feet with him. "We both know we're not going to waste that food."

He really does know her.

After finishing their cold breakfasts, she half expected him to leave. He's kept himself busy in the past, stuck to routines. He'd told her it was part of his recovery strategy, to keep busy, and find a task to give his day a semblance of purpose. But he doesn't.

Instead, they wash the dishes together. And he stays. Then, they walk into the parlour together, and he doesn't leave. They sit on opposing ends of the couch and Buttercup jumps up into his lap, having already ditched her in favour of a better ally. She can't really blame him.

"Do you want to watch something with me?" Peeta asked, breaking the concentrated way she'd been staring at him, wondering what his game was. He looked at her, one hand petting the cat, the other holding the remote.

"I usually go hunting," she protested, but she doesn't want to go. Doesn't even think he'd let her go.

"I want to do something normal together," he raised his eyebrows, and she could see he was waiting for her permission.

"I don't think there's anything worth watching," she conceded.

Peeta turned the television on, quickly clicking out of what she'd been caught watching the previous night. She watches him as he flips through the channels. He looked tired, pale too. It made her stomach turn uneasily with guilt to see him like that. Her blanket was folded across the back of the couch, so she took it and stretched it out, throwing it over the cat too and only covering her own feet. An olive branch.

Buttercup hissed at her and fought his way out, only to resettle on Peeta's lap on top of the blanket. Peeta's eyes turned to her and the small smile he gave her in thanks felt like a summer day.

Peeta stopped searching for something to watch and settled on a strange show. It looked to be very old, older than anything she'd ever seen. The images themselves looked abnormally warm, and the clothes the characters wore are cut strangely, too large on their bodies. She didn't pay any of that any mind at first, until the characters started referring to places she'd never heard of, such as Seattle.

"What is this?" she asked, glancing over at Peeta.

He looked down at the remote to find the button he needed. He pressed it and the TV guide appeared, displaying a synopsis of the show.

"Uh… it says it's a show about a radio host… radio therapist in… wow! 1993!" He looked over at her with surprise. "That's before the first war, before Panem, before the water crisis even."

She couldn't help it; she crawled over to his side of the couch to cover herself in more of the blanket. "Huh, I wonder why they're playing this of all things."

He shrugged, but his attention is completely absorbed by the television, and she couldn't blame him. It was like looking at life on another planet.

She found the show hard to follow at times, but it was mostly funny, if not a little ridiculous. Peeta seemed to enjoy it, laughing with her. Buttercup fell asleep on his lap, a content ball of ugly orange fur. The house felt sunny and warm because the curtains are open. She even smiled. It felt good, for a moment, so very good.

It's weird, to be happy, without her sister there to share it with. She frowns when she thinks about it. If she looks over beyond Peeta to the armchair there, she can almost see her, sitting with her legs swinging, laughing with them, gold hair shining in the afternoon light.

She stood abruptly and Peeta looked up at her, his body tensed and ready to jump after her. But she didn't go anywhere, just started to breathe very quickly, gasp really, and the room was spinning.

"Katniss," Peeta spoke cautiously, he stood next to her, hands hovering. "Katniss, you're okay. Breathe, please. Deep breaths."

Her eyes found his and she's sure she looked certifiable, but his face softened even further and this time when he reached for her, he did touch her. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

"Breathe." He demonstrated, breathing deeply himself, "Breathe, good job."

She made a choking sound, and Peeta rubbed her back.

"Breathe, love, breathe." He breathed with her again. "See? Good job, again, breathe."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. You're doing great." He kept rubbing her back, "I got you."

"Can we sit?" she asked, and he pulled her back down to the couch.

"What happened? Where'd you go?" he asked once he pulled away enough to look at her, his hand brushing away some of her hair.

"Prim," she croaks and points at the chair, "I swear I saw her. There. She was right there."

"Okay," he whispered, and it was soothing, the tone he was using. "Take another breath, that's good."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he insisted. "It's okay, you miss her and that's okay."

She huged him. "Do you think I'll ever… get better?"

"Of course," he answered so quickly she knows he means it. "Of course, you will."

"I miss her so much."

"I know." He squeezed her for a long time.