I know people still talk about us. The “star-crossed lovers” who sparked a revolution. The whole of Panem can spin off their own romanticized stories but nobody will ever know the truth - the ugly parts that are etched onto our skin as angry scars and burns. Some of the scars have faded over time but reality haunted us through the nightmares. On the nights when it’s particularly bad, I see vulnerability, grief, and weakness through Peeta’s eyes, and I know it’s a mirror image of myself too. I only press my lips to his forehead and tell him silently through my gaze and our intertwined fingers that dawn isn’t far off, it will be morning the next time he wakes.