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                                                                                                Together?

                                                                                                   Together.

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There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him.

Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas 

Peeta needs nothing more than his wits.

Every night I crawl into his bed to watch him sleep.

Last night was different.

The mutts came for him until I screamed. His comfort became wings. His shushes, promises. My fingers wound around him and his fingers inched inside me, coaxing me to come to him.

All night we came.

Our bodies entwined, we finally slept.

This morning I found him sitting in the doorway, watching the rain. Wordlessly, I joined him.

The door is unyielding, sturdy. The rain, soft. My eyes fall to his hands, and I think about all they make.

If he asks, I’ll tell him.