“You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers."Real," I answer. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.”

“Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.”

“You love me. Real or not real?"I tell him, "Real.”

“I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss," says Peeta. "Even if my mother isn't a healer."I'm jolted back in time, to another wound, another set of bandages. "You said that same thing to me in the first Hunger Games. Real or not real?""Real," he says. "And you risked your life getting the medicine that saved me?""Real." I shrug. "You were the reason I was alive to do it.”

“If I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can't grow wings," he say's. "Real or not real?""Real," I say. "But people don't need wings to survive.""Mockingjays do.”

“But his arms are there to comfort me, and eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him "Real.”

“I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say. "Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real.”