In the meadow, a beautiful Spring afternoon. I stroll beneath the warm sun. Soon I spot Peeta walking in front of me. "Peeta!" I call. He doesn't respond. "Hey, Peeta!" Still no answer. I run after him, trying desperately to catch up. But I'm stuck. I can't move. Peeta soon becomes further away. I try again to keep up, and then I'm moving. Finally I start to catch up. Then I realise, the closer I get to Peeta, the more he starts to fade. No! Peeta! He's disappearing, but I can't stop running.

Then I'm alone.

I emerge from the nightmare screaming his name. "Peeta!" Of course, he immediately awakens. Peeta wipes away the burning tears on my cheeks. "Katniss, it's okay." He tries to calm me, but the trauma is racking my body. "Katniss...calm down, please." His voice is soothingly hypnotic, I calm. My closed eyes reopen to find Peeta's blue ones hovering over me.

"I'm sorry I woke you." I tell him.

"Not like I'm not used to it." Peeta smiles.

"I know. But it's our wedding night, it should be content." I say.

"Well everything's alright now. Would talking about your nightmare help?" He asks.

"Not really." I tell him. "I don't think I can go back to sleep."

"Do you want me to stay up with you?" Asks Peeta.

"No, that's okay." I move him away from me, so he has room to sleep.

"I'll stay up." He says, moving close again.

"Go back to sleep." I insist.

"I'm not tired." Peeta argues.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not." He wraps his arms around me tightly.

Peeta's lips brush my neck, carelessly. Every nerve in my body rushes there to concentrate on the source of heat that is now spreading through my entire body. I shiver. My skin becomes puckered with goosebumps. I could stay here forever, silent and contented by the electric feel of his lips. Peeta has always made me feel this way - warm, alive. But I have never let my self consider what it means. I suppose it's inevitable, intimacy to its fullest extent. I push the thought away, only for it to come crawling back out of the shadows to reclaim its occupation of mind. It would be apparent that my inexperience holds the last ounce of innocence I have left. Then, I wonder about Peeta. Has he experienced that level of intimacy before? With another girl? Jealousy surges through me, so I quickly rid of the thought.

Peeta rolls away from me, his lips leaving my neck. I sigh. "Peeta?" I mumble.

"What?" He questions in the same tone.

"Nothing." I say. He laughs, poising himself on his elbow to look down on me.

"What is it?" He laughs.

"I was comfortable and you moved."

"I'm sorry." He says. Even in the darkness of our bedroom, the blue in his eyes is perceptible. His eyes are like the ocean, staring into them almost makes me dizzy, like I'm drowning. Simplicity. That's how we are. Other people turn love into something so complicated, they pace limits, restrictions, demands on the ones they love. But staring into Peeta's eyes now makes me realise how easy it is to be with him. We love for the sake of loving, not for the sake of anything else.

I kiss him. Peeta kisses back tentatively, as always. He runs his hands through my hair, cautiously, it's almost like if he touches me wrong I'll crumble. I feel that sensation again, the hunger, the craving. I haven't yet found a way to tame it. It feels like a wave that will never crest. Perhaps, Peeta feels it too, I can't bring myself to ask him. His kiss is soft, but I find myself desperately attempting to deepen it. Peeta immediately understands. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and excited. I bring my hand up to grip his hair. His lips travel to my neck, peppering the skin there, my entire body relaxes at the feeling. I can feel my heart race increasing at the exhilaration of this situations potential, perhaps it's strange, that after so many years this is the furthest we've been intimately.

"Peeta?" I breathe. He pulls away and his eyes focus on mine. "What are we doing?" I ask.

"Kissing...?" He jokes.

"No, I mean what happens after that?" I scan his eyes, trying to communicate without having to say the words. Peeta's expression is blank. Oh, God.

"Peeta...?"

"Am I missing something?" He smirks.

"Yes." My hands travel down to find the rim of his shirt, I tug at it. Peeta's eyes suddenly display alarm, and then finally, understanding. Everything happens so fast. First his shirt is off and then my nightgown, leaving me bare. I feel so terribly uncomfortable, being so revealed to him. He must be able to tell, as he whispers. "You're so beautiful Katniss." Peeta gently removes the arm I've used to shield my chest. "I could never think otherwise." He kisses my cheeks, one at a time. "You want to do this?" He asks.

"I think so. I mean, yes...but honestly, I'm really scared." A crease forms between Peeta's eyebrows, at my words.

"It'll be alright, I swear on it. I'm pretty scared too. But we're in this together, like everything else that's scared us in the past." He says. I nod.

My collarbone, my earbuds, his kisses explore strange places they've never been before. I can feel the heat radiating from Peeta's body, above me, like a warm blanket. I cautiously run my fingers over his bare chest, over his shoulders, around his neck. He truly is beautiful. With the many scars that dance across his body, he is like a work of art, a masterpiece that testifies what he has endured. I wish that I could see my own scars in such a light, all I see when I look at my own scars, are in fact, scars. I wonder if Peeta thinks my scars are beautiful, the way I think of his. Before I can think further into it, Peeta's hand grazes my right breast. Even the light touch, intentional, or unintentional, I cannot conceal the wave of desire that rushes over me. "You've done this before?" I gasp.

"No." He says, matter-of-factly. "Why?"

"You seem to know what you're doing, is all." I say.

"Have you? Done this before?"

"No." I say, almost defensively.

"You seem to know what you're doing, too." He says.

"I do?" I scrunch my nose up. "My body's instincts, I guess."

There's no hiding from him. As the night goes on, more of my bare skin is revealed to Peeta. My insecurities, would seem a problem. It's so easy for him, to have his naked body hovering over mine and not even flinch, whereas I am writhing beneath the sheets, searching for some sort of shield to hide my slight body and my hideous scars. "Katniss..." Peeta says. "You really need to stop covering yourself up."

"But my scars...they're hideous." I plead.

"No they're not. And I have them too." He says.

"But your scars are beautiful. Like a war hero, who's scars reflect his endurance." I say.

"Exactly the same as yours." He says. Peeta removes the sheet, to look down on me. "Beautiful." He says, before spreading kisses over the marks on my skin.

An aching, a craving like I've never felt before. To tame it, I must endure. "Are you ready?" Peeta whispers.

"No. I mean...yes." I squeak. I'm being pathetic.

"Katniss, we don't have to. Not if you're not ready to." Peeta says, seriously.

"I want to. I'm ready. Just...be careful."

"You'll tell me if I hurt you? Promise me?" Peeta's eyes bore into mine, warningly.

"I promise."

Then, two bodies become one. Two broken pieces become whole. Two lovers become love itself.

A sharp pain, a tearing feeling in a foreign place. Is it supposed to feel like this? I don't know what all the fuss is about. I wince in pain. "Katniss? Are you okay?" Peeta asks, concerned.

"I'm okay. It's supposed to hurt at first, right?" I ask. All he can manage is a nod. Then all of a sudden it hits, the pleasure, the satisfaction. My wave has crested. My hunger, tamed. It's breathtaking, like nothing I've ever felt before. Nothing has ever felt this impossibly good.

Is it wrong to think this way? Is it dirty? Is it the way the girls on the slag heap used to think? Perhaps. No, it just makes me human. It feels so wrongfully, right. The feeling is not just that of deep intimacy, but that of deep complicity. It is breathless exhilaration mingled with love and fear.

Like a clock. Tick tock, tick tock. The clock continues to tick.

Our bodies continue to move. Like the strike of midnight, the bells begin to ring. Fireworks, an explosion, the climax of a story book. A blur. Then it's over. Our bodies collapse in a heap of exhaustion. Mumbled, senseless talk. "I love you." Echoing across the room a dozen times.

Simplicity. Complicity. All at once. I've never felt so alive. Love expressed in its most possible way. Making love is not the way the kids talk about it at school, it is not wrong, it is not dirty, it is not bad. It is beautiful.

It is love to its fullest.

***

"I love you." I whisper.

"I love you, too." He kisses my forehead. I'm giddily happy, my cheeks hurt from the smile plastered on my face. I see the same expression on Peeta.

I'm in his arms, like any other night, like any other moment. My head rests on Peeta's bare chest, I can hear his heart thumping and thumping. I can feel my own heart doing exactly the same. I bring my hand up to his face and run my fingers over his jaw, I feel something strange, rough. I sit up to look down on Peeta. "You have stubble?" I ask it like a question, when it is more like a statement.

"What?" Peeta runs his hand over his face.

"You have stubble." I repeat. The game makers used a special formula on all of the male tributes to prevent them from growing facial hair in the games. It's supposed to last forever.

"I thought the formula was permanent." Peeta says, rubbing his face.

"Me too. Must only last a few of years," I say.

"I'm gonna grow a massive beard..." Peeta teases.

"Don't you dare."

😂