*Katniss's POV*
I'm so unwilling to get up from this embrace; I find it so hard-pressed to leave the comfort it offers, but today the choice is easy. I'm not leaving him, ever. I sigh deeply, letting his warmth wash over me, as I press my face in the crook of his neck. His hair is much too wild, yet his wavy locks are soothing- they carress my cheek as his chest rises and falls against mine. And I fall in love with him again, this boy I never had the courage to leave, or love either; but I know what I feel today is not false; and the beauty of the feelings I experience leaves me exhilarated, and rather short of breath. His lips press against my neck, and I involuntarily tighten my hold on his back, crumpling the shirt he wears. There are scars on me, unmended and yet festering hurt that no one should see; but his lips find them, and lightly brush against; with a whispered promise that floats in the air long after he's said it- ''You're beautiful. Stay this way.'
When he finally looks into my face, I know what he sees. I'm a wreck, my soul stranded in a body that wants to die. My utterly defeated face is woebegone, and my disconsolate thoughts hang heavily in my mind, weaving through my hair, and making it look frumpy and discolored. Yet his fingers lock into thick strands of my hair, as silently, he does it up in a simple braid that falls on my shoulder. I like how he directs his attention to whatever I think, when I don't even convey it to him.
His hands now slip against my face, and his thumbs hold my chin erect; as his palms rest on my cold cheeks. 'Don't ever change' he whispers again, and I nod assuredly. Quite unnecessary, but still.
'Don't let your thoughts overwhelm you. You're beautiful and whole in every way.' I can't find the heart to nod now.
'Happy birthday, Katniss.'
And I let the tears trickle down my face into his fingers that don't flinch, but push the droplets away slowly. I lift my hand and press his palm to my lips- the memory of him doing the same in the Games is a strangely distant one, with all the Morphling in my veins. His pale blue eyes are watery, but iridiscent; as he stares into my eyes that cloud with more gloom. I leave a kiss on his palm and I can tell from his face that he remembers it too, perhaps even better than I do. He takes away his hand to rub his knuckles in his eyes, but it leaves tear stains on his rather pale face. He's never been afraid of showing his emotion; and I know he feels the way I do.
We could have been dead a thousand times over- but we are grateful for the life we have a shot at, now.
__________________
I am all of twenty today, as Peeta reminds me ten times over in the morning. His nimble fingers and creative thinking have created a magical landscape downstairs, in my home in the Victors' Village. Lights shimmer softly across canvasses of paintings of sturdy trees and grass, and animals peeking in, that even my eyes have trouble spotting at once. The colors of a thousand different butterflies and a meadow of flowers cast an aura that is much too good, much too real to be true. I put my arms around his neck, and talk into his ear. 'You shouldn't have. I'm not worth this all.'
He pulls me to the front, rather sternly. 'Listen, Girl on Fire. Stop berating yourself. The past is a life you lost forever. Stop making a mess of your own self. You're a flame still- and you have no idea of the effect you have on others, or the favors everybody owns you. Like me, for instance' he says.
'What favors?' I ask rather bluntly.
'Your life. It's a favor that has kept me alive, all this long.'
