Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.

I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

Game of Thrones + Hair

All the signs of love that we painted and hung up. 
I can’t break away from those eyes that I’ve been drawn into. 
I’m almost drowning in them now, but I don’t want to be set free.

U-Kiss + Faceless