And there I am, blushing and confused, made beautiful by Cinna’s hands, desirable by Peeta’s confession, tragic by circumstance, and by all accounts, unforgettable.
(Source: rainyglows, via thehungergames)
Peeta’s episodes from Katniss’ POV (post-Mockingjay).
Nights like these are the worst. He’ll freeze, scrunch his face up as though trying to swallow something bitter, and rush out into the rain like a man searching for his soul. I find him, half an hour later, huddled in some old coal-storage unit that’s half burned down so it offers no protection from the icy rain and wind. He looks at me, wild. There’s fear; so much fear as I approach him, and Dr Aurelius’ words run through my mind; don’t approach too quickly, no sudden movements, keep conversation quiet and neutral, show no hostility…Peeta’s huddled on the floor, soaking wet and shivering from the cold and from the terror. It takes me a couple of minutes of the cure-all quiet, neutral conversation before he’ll let me sit next to him, but only a few moments after that before he crumbles next to me and lets me pull his head down into my neck and hold him while he rides out the tears. The grief has to come, the tears have to flow. Peeta will have episodes, and so will I, but we will always come back. Home is each other; home will never leave.
(via thehungergames)
