Peeta's POV.

I can still feel her warm lips against mine. I can taste them, they taste like strawberries and summer. I can still feel her petite delicate hands on my big cold ones, her fingers interwined with hers.
I still can feel her beside me, although I'm home, and She's not here with.
Being without Katniss leaves an hole in my heart, that is only fixed the moment I see her again.
Meanwhile, I keep her picture constant in my mind, not letting myself go of it. Because She's my everything, and I don't know I can handle keepimg this from her.
But I don't want to loose her, to scare her, so I won't tell her how much I love her. Not yet.
"You're very dreammy today, ain't you?" Someone snaps me out of my transe.
"You think so?" I ask.
Haymitch chuckles. "You love her, it's not worth trying to cover it."
"Whatever." I mumble, slightly upset that Haymitch found out that easily. Am I that predictable. I guess I am a open book. when it comes to most if the stuff.
"You know, she loves you too." Haymitch says, taking a sip of his whisky bottle.
"Haymitch, don't drink in front of me, please. You know I hate it." I say. Ane it's true I hate when Haymitch drinks, or gets drunk. It reminds me of my father, who was always drinking, trying to cast away his feelings. Trying to ignore his broken heart, that would never be fixed, from the moment he lost the one he trully loved. My mom used to get so mad when he arrived home tripping on his own feet, enabled to foram a correct sentence. I think somehow swing him like that broke her Heart too. Because she knew my dad didn't trully love her. And although she didn't love him either, she still cared, because That's how humans work. They're fragile creatures, as if they were made of glass, that shatter for no reason. And even of you try to act robotic, cast your heart appart, you can never run from the mistery that is love.

"Hey!" Haymitch says, snapping his fingers in front of me.
"Huh?" I ask.
"You kinda lost yourself a while there." Haymitch says.
"Sorry about that." I mumble.
"It's fine. It actually should be me apolagizing" He says, guiltily.
"Why?" I ask, loosing the traço if the conversation.
"For not trying bad enough."
"What do you mean?" I say, starting to feel very confused.

Haymitch sights "Because I should be trying harder. To stop drinking. To get to you. I feel that I'm not helping."

My eyes dart to the ground. I hate this emotional crap. I wish I didn't feel anything at times. I wish I were robothic. It would be so much easier.
"I disagree. If it wasn't for you where would I be? Probably lost. I mean, I already am, but I'm closer to find my way back than I would. And you didn't even need to help me. You had no reason for it, but you still did."

"You know, before you first arrived I thought. This should be good. And it is, don't get me wrong. But I though that it would be good like having a dog or a cat." Haymitch says. I chuckle. "But it was different. And I got acostumed to you. That is something I always tried to avoid, after what happened the last time. But it happened. And it hurts to see you like that."
"Like what?" I ask.
"Like that, you know. I just want you to know that people care about you." Haymitch says.
"Like who?" I ask, starting to get annoyed because I can't understand what is he trying to say.
"Like Katniss, and me, and those weird friends you have." Haymitch says.

I raise my eyebrow "Weird friends?"
"Very weird friends indeed." Haymitch says, squinting his eyes, as if trying to figure them out. I Shake my head, chuckling. "You know, I once had weird friends too. And a weird wife, beautifull, but weird indeed."

"What happened to her?" I ask. I tried to contain myself, but I just couldn't, curiosity killing me.
Haymitch's eyes get watery "She died, in a car crash. That I caused." he says.
I never really have a thought about it. Why Haymitch lived here by himself, all that time. In such a big house, getting drunk. Trying to forget, of course. Maybe We're not so different.

"She was pregnant, you know. It was a boy. We were going to name him Ryan." Haymitch says, his voice cracking at the end.
I'm almost speechless. I'm always almost speechless. But this time is different. How am I supposed to respond to that?
"I'm sorry." I manage to say, or whisper.
"It's fine. You know, if it wasn't for you I'd probably still be alone. I was scared to care about someone, after I lost her. But I'm glad I did. I really am." Haymitch says ruffling my hair, as if I was a small child.
"Thanks Haymitch." I say.
"Your welcome."
"Let's just have dinner. What do you want to order?" I ask standing up.
"Chinese, obviously."
And we spend our night with Haymitch rambling on and on about chinese food. And for more boring this might sound, I love days like this.