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Prologue

Peeta sighed and stepped inside Newark airport, clutching the boarding pass he'd just retrieved from his backpack in one hand and his gymbag in the other. The prospect of a 6-hour plane ride didn't particularly fill him with enthusiasm, but his decision was long made and there was no going back now. Once Peeta located his airline counter, handed his bag over and went through security, he realized he still had an hour to kill before he would have to board. He spotted a Starbucks near his gate, ordered a Cinnamon Dolce Latte and a blueberry muffin and sat at one of the few empty tables. As he took a bite of his muffin, he remembered why he didn't make a habit of going to Starbucks. Having grown in the bakery his family had owned for about a century, Peeta was kind of picky with his food and only reluctantly agreed to go when his friends insisted. The 18 year-old boy couldn't keep himself from thinking that ironically enough, he had for once chosen pastries over his friends, as it was the reason he was soon going to cross the Atlantic. Well, that, and his taste for adventure. When he checked his phone and saw that he had only 10 minutes left to board, he quickly ate the remnants of the muffin and finished his drink. Peeta then walked to the gate, and he was soon dozing off as the plane took off, helped by the light rumbling of the engine. The last thought he had before falling asleep was 'Paris, here I come.'

Peeta was pretty pleased when he figured out the Paris transportation network at first glance – well, almost. As he bought a métro ticket and hopped just in time into the train, he took in what was displayed before him. Hundreds of people were standing on the platform and inside the train itself, and Peeta could see a great diversity among Parisians, every shade of skin represented, and as he was trying not to stare too much at anyone, all he could see was a blur made of everyone's clothes, a swaying rainbow right before him – a very noisy rainbow. While Peeta couldn't pick out every language spoken, it sure seemed to him that there were quite a lot. The young man thought that taking the Paris métro was kind of a sensual experience, and the ridiculous thought made him snort. His body, and apparently his mind too, was starting to feel the weight of the long travel, and well... he had always been a sensitive, artistic soul.

A few minutes later, Peeta was trying hard not to fall asleep as the métro lulled him into sleep. To keep his head clear and concentrate on something, he decided to count how many stations were left until he would discover his new home, but gave up after he got to the 12th station and saw that his was still a few ones away. But Peeta was patient, always had been, and this wasn't going to change – especially now. Visiting France had always been one of his dreams, and that had finally been able to happen thanks to his uncle Haymitch – well, that, and the enthusiasm his mother showed in the idea of getting rid of him. Peeta's mom had never shown any interest in her youngest son, in any of her children for that matter. Ryan and Nathan, Peeta's two oldest brothers, had always been very close thanks to their small age gap, Ryan being 21 and Nathan 22. Thinking of them made Peeta smile, as he remembered his brothers' smiles when he told them he was going to study at the Sorbonne university in Paris and that their uncle had agreed to let him stay with him for the whole year. To Peeta, this trip meant a certain amount of things. First, he was going to leave the New Jersey suburbs he grew up in and felt suffocated by, and above all, his bitch of a mother. This year abroad had a thrilling taste of freedom and meant a fresh start, meeting new people and discovering another country and its culture. Secondly, it meant that he'd be able to do the two things he loved the most : baking and painting. Peeta really hoped he would get a job at a traditional French bakery, and he just knew that Paris, the City of Lights, was going to be a great muse.

As he walked through the hall of his station, Lamarck-Caulaincourt, the soft melody of a guitar overwhelmed him. Peeta stopped to give the man a coin – he had already changed his dollars into euros for good measure – when he started singing.

'Paris sera toujours Paris
La plus belle ville du monde
Malgré l'obscurité profonde,
Son éclat ne peut être assombri
Paris sera toujours Paris !
Plus on réduit son éclairage
Plus on voit briller son courage
Sa bonne humeur et son esprit
Paris sera toujours Paris !'

Although Peeta couldn't really understand what the man was saying, the song was sung with such emotion he could practically smell the affection the man felt towards his city. Giving the artist the coin, he climbed the stairs that would lead him to the outside world. As he stepped outside, Peeta took a deep breath and was met by such life and such an atmosphere that he immediately thought he was a goner. Paris seemed to hold so many promises, and he had no idea what they were – but he was going to find out soon enough.