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The soft light makes her skin glow in an almost golden colour, though half of her is shrouded in darkness. It’s early morn, the sun just about to rise from its sleep, the first few rays falling in through the cracks in the drapes. It makes her hair look soft – which he knows for a fact that it is – and her eyes flutter under their lids, sparks of light making patterns on her face. The top she’s wearing is green and even in the dark, he can appreciate how the colour suits her, like she was meant to be a part of the forest, of nature. He almost wishes she would open her eyes, so he can get a glimpse of their debts, but she needs the rest. Actually, they both do, but right now, Peeta is too content just watching her.
For once, there are no nightmares and he hopes it is because of his presence. Hopes that, even in the smallest of ways, she needs him. Hopes that the emotion in her eye when he handed her the white roses was perhaps just more than gratitude.
He smiles wryly: here she is, sleeping peacefully in his arms, and he still doubts her.
Or maybe he just doubts himself.
It doesn’t really matter. When she wakes up, he will be there. If she wants to fall asleep with him by her side, he will be there. If she tells him to go away, he will be there. Because, watching the soft curve of her neck, listening to her slow breathing, feeling the hand that is gripping his shirt tightly as if she never wants to let go, he knows that he has nowhere else he wants to be.
As Katniss sleeps, Peeta watches and hopes for another chance, this time with the odds in their favor.