[ nerve endings are very minor things in situations such as this. neither of them need romantic or picturesque. After everything they've been through, they'd both prefer real in all of it's gritty, dirty, sloppiness. it hurts when they collide because neither of them slow down, but that pain is good as well because it reminds them that this is real rather than something dreamed or something choreographed by the capitol.

peeta wraps the length of her braid around his hand, holding her close, nose burying in her shoulder, in the crook of her neck. he doesn't care that she smells like a hospital, like things locked up too long. underneath that is still the scent of green, growing things, but it does prod at his mind, prickle at his senses. ] where were you? what happened?

[ never mind that he's just going to keep clinging to her while he asks these questions. he wasn't sure he'd ever see her again when they split up. it may be a long time before he lets go of her again. ] you're okay. I was so afraid you'd been--[ can't say killed, won't say killed ] hurt.