"behold! the rolly joger!"

We have no Justice Building yet, but if Hazelle's to be believed, some sort of bells will ring at midnight again. Attendance isn't mandatory, so if people show up, it will be because they want to.

Since there will be free food and drink and no Peacekeepers stationed around to dull our mood, the crowds are expected to be large.

"It's just …" the words escape me, but Peeta finds them quickly enough.

"Public?" he offers, his voice light.

"Public," I agree. "And I'm not ready for it."

Nobody knows we're together. Except for Haymitch and Greasy Sae. Sometimes I think Hazelle knows, too. And probably Delly.

So maybe more than a few people know. But I still feel protective over it, the fraught, beautiful peace woven between us, drawing us together by the seams. Secured safely against the odds, tucked away inside our den.

When we walk through town together, there are already whispers. Peeta says they aren't anything negative, but I'm not sure if I believe him.

The people in District 12 are different from the Capitol audiences gnawing at their screens for us, demanding we perform. But sometimes, the gently prying eyes of my people feel worse.

Things were different before the war. I didn't care who saw Peeta and I together, walking hand-in-hand in the strange space left between our friendship and fake engagement. But more than a few of them saw Peeta in District 13, back when he hated me and thought I was a mutt. And almost all of them know about him strangling me.

"People talked when the Mockingjay stopped singing," Haymitch told me with a shrug one spring day, after I caught a gaggle of women in the town making eyes at Peeta.

He'd only been back a month, and I suppose no one had expected to ever see him again. Especially not in sound mind and body, and especially not with me. I don't expect them to understand it.

Peeta takes a few steps across the floor in front of me, his fingers tracing the seams of his pockets. A guilty lump forms in my throat. He clearly wants to go. I'm what's stopping him. Will I ever stop ruining his plans?

After a few moments, his pacing halts. "Tell you what," he starts, blinking at me with determined eyes. "How about we check out the square together, see how we feel. And then if we like it, we stay."

"And if we don't?" my voice falters on the word "we." He knows I mean "I."

Peeta grants me a slight smile. "If we don't, we go home."

"And what will we do once we get home?" my voice lifts into the playful, suggestive lilt reserved only for him.

A devious glint flashes across his eyes. "Are you trying to get me to keep you home all night?"

"Is it working?" I ask, hopeful, but he just gives me a knowing shake of the head.

"Katniss, if you're really uncomfortable, we won't go at all," Peeta says. "But I think it'll be nice for us. We can head down with Haymitch, maybe Hazelle and the kids. And I know Delly and that guy she's going out with will be there…"

I smile at his teasing inflection, the way his voice drops and rolls at the mention of Delly's date. I don't remember his name. Just that he was pleasant enough to snag someone like Delly.

"Fine. I'll give it a chance," I sigh.

Peeta grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and I try to share his smile. This could be okay.

Eventually, he sidles up next to me on the sofa, allowing me to bury myself into his warmth. I take comfort in the soothing, heavy press of his body into mine. He yawns, his wide chest expanding with breath against my side.

"I promise we won't do anything that will make you feel miserable in front of everyone," Peeta adds, stroking my hair. "We don't even have to kiss at midnight."

My smile drops.

-

We're wrapped in thick scarves and buried in woolen coats when we emerge from our house to meet Haymitch in the snow outside. It's just past 10:00 PM, and wintry night washes the sky black.

The flurries of snowflakes, backlit with warm yellow light from the street lamps, give the appearance of golden sparks flashing through the night.

Wonder illuminates Peeta's eyes as he takes in the scene. It's nothing new, but you wouldn't be able to tell, from the way he wags his head from side to side to capture everything in his mind.

"New colors to recreate?" I try to keep my voice bright, absent of the nerves coursing through my body.

"I'm just trying to remember everything about tonight," Peeta breathes. "About you and me tonight."

Haymitch tumbles out of his house a few moments later, face split in an obnoxious grin. He clutches his winter coat tight around his body, cursing aloud at the cold wind biting at our ears. The coat looks clean and crisp, so Hazelle must have put it through the laundry recently.

"Nice coat, Haymitch," I comment. "Cleaning up for something?"

Our mentor lets out a gravelly noise halfway between a cough and a scoff. "Nunya, Sweetheart."

Peeta and I exchange a glance. What is he on about?

"Nunya business!" Haymitch clarifies, head thrown back in a series of guffaws that wrack his body. Before he can fully double over with laughter at his own joke, Peeta grabs one of his arms and I take the other, a routine we've perfected for late night outings.

Our walk to the square is mostly pleasant despite his theatrics, punctuated with Peeta teasing Haymitch about "cleaning up for something or someone," and I don't quite know what he's getting at. At some point, he shoots me one of his "I'll tell you later" looks, and the promise of gossip is almost enough to extinguish the anxieties flaring up through my chest.

Almost.

Peeta's words play and replay on a loop in my mind. I'm just trying to remember everything about tonight. About him and I tonight. But as we approach the bustling square, the buzz of the crowd drowns out the echo of his voice in my ears.

Will they remember, too? The people who think they've seen and heard everything they've need to see and hear about us? When Peeta and I appear, what will they have to say?

Guilt bites at my skin through my coat, sharpened by the cold. How awful am I, to think so low of my own people?

"You okay?" I only now notice the absence of Haymitch's arm looped around mine, the new pressure of Peeta's hand slipping into my coat pocket.

"Yeah," I lie.

Peeta quirks an eyebrow. "We don't have to do this, Katniss. We can go home."

The okay is just starting to form on the tip of my tongue when I catch Haymitch striding over to Hazelle and the Hawthorne kids at the corner of the crowd.

Posy, who's recently taken to climbing up the legs of Haymitch's pants (or tonight, his coat), suddenly squeals and drops her grip on his pocket patch at the sight of us. All four of the Hawthornes are waving at Peeta and I now, the boys practically jumping with excitement.

"No," I tell Peeta. "I want to say hello."

It's against my better judgment, but I decide I can stick some of this out. Dr. Aurelius says I should try to make myself do more things that make me scared and uncomfortable. Something about training my mind and body to adapt to a world where danger apparently ceases to exist.

I stifle a laugh in my throat. Sometimes, I think my therapist is naïve. There is no such thing as a world without danger. Just one where I figure out how to deal with it.

I shove my hand into my coat pocket to grab onto Peeta's hand, calming myself under the weight of his fingers.

Our stop by the Hawthornes lasts almost an hour, mostly carried by Posy's bubbling excitement over getting to stay up until midnight.

When we nod our goodbyes, I drag Peeta to the food table next by the sleeve of his coat, where I don't hesitate to distract myself from the wandering eyes of my district. My hands move quickly to pile our plate and bowl with stew and bread and vegetables — the ones I'd foraged yesterday for Sae, by the looks of it.

"You know you're allowed to have separate plates, girl," Ripper grunts at me from her liquor stand. She nods at the plate, currently stationed between Peeta's hands three feet away as he chats with some of my old Seam neighbors.

My skin bristles at Ripper's words.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say.

"Whoa, there," Ripper sticks her hand and stump out in defense. "Just makin' a joke. Don't tell Sae I said it, but it's nice, seein' you all cozied up."

I straighten my chest. "Oh," I murmur. Nice?

Peeta's back at my side, looping a strong arm around my waist.

"You two are matching," he says, and when Ripper and I both raise our eyebrows, he adds, "with the scowls."

She's hooting with laughter at his words, which only make my scowl deepen at the edges, and that sends him into his own fit. With a parting grunt toward Ripper, I whisk him away, unwittingly finding myself burrowing deeper into the swarm.

"Feeling social?" Peeta asks, looking down at me with a bright grin.

I shrug, picking at our roasted carrots. "It could be worse."

"Right," he snorts. "Let's go see Delly."

If I weren't already hyper-aware of the people watching Peeta and I, I am now. Staring gray eyes tickles my sides, my back, the edges of my shoulders as we walk. Most people are pleasant enough, bright and loud with their greetings, as if I don't know they're gawking at us.

"Peeta! Katniss!" Delly Cartwright's squeaky voice shrieks from somewhere behind us, and when I turn around and smile for her, it's actually genuine. She's filled out again since returning to District 12, her cheeks round and flushed pink with cold and excitement.

"Good to see you, Delly," Peeta leans in to kiss her cheek, and after I mumble my own hello, she stumbles forward to kiss mine. When she pulls back, she hiccups loudly.

"Having a good night?" I chuckle. I usually like Delly just fine, but I'll admit she's even more fun after she's had a drink or two.

"Amazing!" she cries. "This is the best, best night of my life!"

"Oh, wow," Peeta hums, eyebrows raised to his hairline. "That good?"

Delly hiccups again when she nods wildly. "That good. Because I'm with my best friends, Katniss and Peeta!"

At Delly's repetition of our names, a few heads turn. My eyes wander to my boots. There's no way we make it another half hour to midnight.

"I'm going to say hi to your boyfriend," Peeta draws out the last word dramatically, making Delly giggle. "I'll be right back."

When Peeta leaves us, Delly belches out loud, making me jump.

"What!" she asks me.

"Nothing," I say through a chuckle. "You just make me laugh."

"No," Delly rolls her eyes and grabs my arms, and I'm struck with the rareness of that expression from her. "Katniss, why do you keep looking around like a madman?"

"What?" my head swipes around to check for any listening ears and watching eyes, ready to dare anyone to keep staring.

"Like that!" she says. "Like you're on some kind of spy mission, but really bad at it?"

I groan. "I'm not bad at it."

"Are you afraid of people looking at you, or something?" Delly burps, blue eyes wide. I inhale hard.

She's only ever this bold when she's drinking, so I'm inclined to take back what I said about liking her most this way.

"Maybe," I shrug. My voice drops. "They are looking at me and Peeta. They have been all night."

All year, I want to say.

"That's because they admire you," Delly coughs. "Both of you. And there's some curiosity, because this town's starved for good gossip."

"See!" I say. "Gossip."

"I said good gossip," Delly's voice raises a pitch. "Gossip about good things. You guys are the good thing."

I want to grumble, to tell her she's wrong about that, and about how all people are wonderful and everyone in the district thinks I'm so amazing that they only ever look at me in awe. Maybe I'd believe it about Peeta, but never myself.

I open my mouth to complain, but all I manage to say is, "He said we didn't have to kiss tonight."

"WHAT?" Delly cries, jumping in her coat. The flask of liquor clutched in her hand, which I'm only noticing now, sploshes amber liquid onto the floor. "Go fix that, now!"

My body spins around, propelled by the pressure of Delly's hands on my shoulders and another set of hands on my waist. Familiar, comforting hands that pull me into my heat source tonight.

"How was Delly's boyfriend?" I breathe, nestling into the thick fabric of Peeta's coat.

"Good," he says. "Pretty drunk, but no more wasted than she is."

I tilt my chin, following Peeta's gaze to the lucky guy, who's got his head thrown back in amusement. Somehow, Delly's materialized at his side in the few minutes since she pushed me into Peeta's arms, bouncing off of his laughter.

"Peeta," I start. I fix my eyes on his almost aggressively, straining to keep them open without turning to see who is watching us.

"Why don't you want to kiss me?"

"What?"

"Why don't you want to kiss me!" I repeat, agitated.

Peeta clears his throat, troubled. "I always want to kiss you, Katniss."

I breathe hard, letting my eyes trace the pink outline of his lips. They're a little chapped with cold, but no less kissable.

"Prove it at midnight, Bread Boy."

Midnight, it turns out, is just around the corner. The chorusing voices of our people surround us in minutes, chanting numbers that dwindle as the seconds to midnight wind down.

"Ten, nine, eight…"

"Oh, I'll prove it," Peeta murmurs, eyes lit with smugness and love and something else I can't name in front of all these people. But their eyes don't feel so dangerous anymore, less like hunters stalking prey and more like neighbors checking in on us. My people. Our people.

"Seven, six, five…"

"And you have to kiss me at home, too," I whisper, standing on my tiptoes to get closer to him, to steep myself more deeply in his body heat.

Our chests are pressed against each other now, his arm wrapped tight around my back.

"Four, three, two…"

Peeta huffs out a laugh, and the cold turns his warm breath into a cool mass of air between our faces. As he leans down to close the gap between us, I inhale his cloudy breath, feeling his warmth flood my system. The rest of the world ceases to exist.

"Happy New Year!"

For the first time all night, I allow myself to squeeze my eyes shut. Peeta cups my face with his hands as I press my lips into his, drinking in his warmth. Our lips move together, suddenly plumped with a gentle hunger, and the rush of blood in my ears almost tunes out the booming bells from beyond.

"Happy New Year, Katniss," Peeta huff after he breaks away, leaning his forehead against my temple.