The blood and the tears was always sketched into his mind. Peeta remembers the blood of his lost friends through the games, he remembers the loss of himself. What the Capitol did to him was unfixable. You and Peeta both knew that.

His chest heaves as he leans his head against your shoulder, tears staining your white shirt. He apologises for it, yet you don't seem to care.

"I don't want to live like this. I thought that with the games ending, I could live normally again." he shakes his head. "It's the same. It always has been."