Rated M for minor mature content in later chapters.

His haunting blue eyes stare out at me from behind the safety of the large metal door that separates us. Most of his body is hidden within the house, but I can see part of his face and one of his hands. Almost unnoticeable burn scars travel across his pale cheek and end just above his eye. A mop of unruly blonde curls sits atop his head and serves as a curtain to hide some of the scars from view. His lips are twisted down in what appears to be a scowl, though he comes across as frightened rather than frightening. I see a hint of fear in those blue eyes of his. This is the fire mutt that everyone warned me about, the scourge of Panem? He looks terrified, wounded, lonely. Not at all what I expected a vicious monster to look like. "Peeta Mellark?"

He opens the door wider so I can get a good look at the inside of his house. The living room would be completely empty if not for the large couch in the middle of the room. This is more like a prison cell than a home. "That's what they used to call me. Haven't heard that name since before the fire." He looks me up and down before moving out of my way. "You must be Katniss Everdeen. Please, come in."

"How do you know my name?" I ask curiously as I cross the threshold into his home. Dust has settled on every inch of the creaky floorboards and unused countertops. It would be nearly impossible to believe that someone actually lived here if the living proof wasn't making his way to the kitchen right now.

"You're the girl everybody is talking about," he tells me with a slight shake of his head. "The one who isn't afraid of me." He disappears into the kitchen and returns seconds later with two glasses of water. "Here. For the only one who has visited me in years."

I take the glass and stare at it for a long time, deciding whether or not to drink it. It could be poisoned or laced with some drug that will knock me out. People are always claiming to be sexually assaulted by this man, but he looks as if he hasn't had company in a long time. Not wanting to upset my generous host, I take a big gulp of the water before setting the half-empty glass on the counter. "Your water tastes better than mine."

A chuckle escapes his lips. "It's filtered water from the grocery store. You don't know how many times my own neighbors have tried to poison my water supply. Can't drink from the tap if I don't want to die." He takes a seat on the couch and motions for me to sit beside him. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

My eyes fall on the other side of his face, the side I couldn't see before. Patches of pink, disfigured skin covers his cheek like a mask. His nose, half of his lips, and his left eye were so badly damaged by the flames that not even the many surgeries he got could fix them. None of that matters to me, though. I've never been concerned with appearances because I'm not so pretty myself, and there is something about Peeta's calm demeanor that makes me feel relaxed around him. "I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"Do you think they are true?" His voice is so soft, so quiet that I'm almost sure I imagined it. Tears drip down from his one good eye, but he quickly wipes them away before I can see them clearly. Is he crying? I place a tentative hand on his trembling shoulder, and he tenses up at the sudden touch. Nobody has shown him any kindness from the moment he was pulled from the flames of his family's bakery. "You don't, do you?"

Of course not. There was never any evidence to suggest that the rumors were anything other than lies conjured up from the imaginations of bored teenagers. Peeta Mellark is not a monster. He is a victim that has been treated like dirt after he lost his family in a fire. "No." He casts a sideways glance at me, confusion and disbelief shining in his eyes. "You have been nothing but kind to me since I came into your house a full five minutes ago."

"That's because I don't get really homicidal until ten minutes after I've met my next victim," he jokes with a half-amused laugh. "What are they saying about me now? Am I still murdering young girls and burying their bodies in my backyard?"

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. The newest rumor is that Peeta bakes unsuspecting girls into cakes and then passes them out to their families. "Now you're a bloodthirsty baker."

He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous accusation. "Haven't baked since the fire." That's what I thought. Everyone in town has taken Peeta's tragedy and twisted it to fit their own sick fantasies. Disgusting. "I've gotten used to the fear, the hatred in their eyes. Nobody cares that I lost my entire family in that fire. Nobody cares that I spend every single day alone."

My hand drops from his shoulder to the hand resting on his leg. He lets out a soft gasp when I entwine my fingers with his. "You're not such a bad guy." His lips twist up into a small smile. "What do you do for fun?"

"Paint." He gets to his feet and pulls me up with him, our hands still clasped together. "Want to see them?" I nod enthusiastically, and he leads me to a room at the very back of the house. Beautiful paintings of sunsets, forests, and realistic animals greet me when I walk into the room. My jaw drops from the sheer shock of how well he paints. "Do you like them?"

"Wow," I breathe as I stop to look at his creations. "These are amazing, Peeta. You're very talented." My favorite one is of a cute little sparrow trying to escape the grasp of an ugly orange cat.

The brightest smile lights up his face. "You really like them? Here." He grabs the one I was admiring from its spot on the wall and gives it to me. "Take any one you want."

I look from the painting in my hands to the man in front of me. Nobody has ever given me such a wonderful gift before. "Thank you." I tuck it under my arm and continue looking around the room. "Where do you get your inspiration?"

Peeta motions to an easel positioned near the window. "I paint whatever I can see from my window."

"Don't you ever go outside?" My heart breaks when he shakes his head sadly. "Why not? You have just as much right to be out there as anybody else!"

"People are afraid of me," he whispers. "Whenever I go outside, somebody insults me or attacks me. Some of these scars are from my neighbors hurtling stones at me." He walks over to a painting of five people standing in front of the bakery that burned down a few years ago. "I should have died in that fire."

I take his hand again and stare into the eyes of the man who has lost everything. "Don't say things like that!" The harsh tone of my voice causes him to flinch. "You deserve to live, Peeta. You deserve to be happy."

"You make me happy," he says sweetly. I'm about to protest when he silences me with a squeeze of his hand. "No, it's true! You are the only person who isn't afraid of me. I haven't had a nice conversation like this in a long time." He brings my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. My face burns with the intensity of a wild fire at the unexpected gesture of affection, but I don't yank my hand away in embarrassment or disgust. The fact that he chose to thank me with actions instead of words speaks volumes about his personality. Peeta is a sweetheart. "What do you like to do for fun, Katniss?"

"Hunt." He raises an eyebrow curiously and waits for me to offer an explanation for my preferred pastime. "My father used to take me hunting when I was little." What I don't tell him is that my father was killed in a car accident when I was twelve years old and the only reason I continue hunting is so I can feel close to him.

As Peeta leads me back into the living room, I can't help noticing how happy he is right now. All traces of fear, suspicion, or pain have been replaced by pure joy. There is a light blush on his face, topped with a wide grin and his shining blue eyes. He is enjoying himself. "Are you hungry? It's been a while since the food truck stopped by to deliver my groceries, but I'm sure I could find something for you to eat."

"Sure." I sit down on the couch while he fixes us something to eat. "I've been meaning to ask why you don't have any furniture in here." Perhaps that is a touchy subject for him, but I'm genuinely curious as to why his house is so empty.

It couldn't be more than a few minutes before Peeta returns with a plate of mini sandwiches. "My house used to get robbed everyday until all that was left was this couch, my paintings, and my bed upstairs." He offers me some of the tiny snacks. "Eat as many as you like."

Half the plate is gone within seconds, and Peeta watches me with an amused smile on his face. "These are good." He has just enough time to snag one of them before I devour the rest of the sandwiches. "Thanks for the food."

"It would be rude of me not to offer my guest something to eat." He discards the plate on the counter and returns to my side in an instant. "Thank you for visiting me. You have no idea what this means to me."

I don't get a chance to respond before a loud, insistent knocking startles us both. Peeta is about to answer the door when it suddenly bursts open, revealing a furious Gale. "What the hell, Katniss? I saw you come in here and you never came out! And you!" He turns on Peeta like a predator about to kill his prey. "If you hurt her, I'll have you locked up for the rest of your miserable life!"

To say Peeta is scared of Gale would be an understatement. He is absolutely terrified of my angry friend. His legs give out and he falls to the ground, arms raised to defend himself. "I would never hurt her."

"Yeah right! I know what you do. You're responsible for the disappearances, aren't you? All those girls who've gone missing were your latest victims, weren't they?" Before Peeta can deny the accusation, Gale kicks him in the side with enough force to knock him backward.

I launch myself in between the two men, taking Gale's next attack for Peeta. "Stop it, Gale. He hasn't done anything wrong." Horror and then anger flickers in Gale's eyes. He tries to move around me but I won't let him. I won't let him punish an innocent man.

"Katniss, he's a monster!" He shoves me out of the way so he can get to Peeta. I'm so furious with him that I grab his leg and hold on for dear life as he drags me across the floor. He manages to pry me from his leg and then once again shoves me to the ground.

"You're the only monster I see here, Gale!" I shout when it becomes clear that he can easily overpower me. My words have the desired effect of deflating his rage. "You barged into his house unannounced and started attacking him. Tell me, is that the behavior of a man or a monster?"

Peeta crawled over to me sometime during my speech and begun examining my wound. I didn't even notice the pain in my side until his soft fingers brushed over the damaged skin. "Are you okay, Katniss? Should I call a doctor?"

"I'm fine." Gale and I are glaring daggers at each other, and I hope he knows how much I hate him right now for putting Peeta through that ordeal. "What about you?"

He dismisses my concern with a shake of his head. "Don't worry about me."

Gale rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'll be waiting for you outside." He spins on his heel and is out the door before I can even process his words. What a jerk. I hope the door hits him on the way out.

Once he is gone, I pull Peeta into a comforting hug. He shyly rests his head on my shoulder and allows his whole body to relax into the embrace. "I'm so sorry about him. He's not usually a… a…" There aren't even words to describe what Gale is. "A pitiful excuse for a human being."

"It's okay. I'm used to it." He shifts in my arms just enough to return the hug, and I feel strangely at ease with his arms wrapped around me like a blanket of security. Something tells me that Peeta is a lover, not a fighter. He barely tried to defend himself from the verbal and physical abuse he suffered only moments ago. "I really do enjoy your company, Katniss. If you don't think I'm some kind of creep, I'd love for you to visit me again."

My fingers tangle themselves into his blonde curls. "You're not a creep, and I would be honored to spend some more time with you." When we break apart, Peeta hands me the painting I liked so much and walks me to the door. "See you tomorrow?"

"It's a date." He winks to let me know that he's only kidding, then gives my hand a firm shake. "Goodbye, Katniss."