Random story idea, when i was wanting a PK fic without the death's of the games. This story is AU. is alive btw, somehow il incorporate Gale in it.
Ps: my other HG story, " Kneading you" will have a chapter update soon~
3 Hana
I can't help but love you
Prologue
The first time I can remember interacting with Peeta Mellark was after my father was injured in the mine explosion. He was one of my few lucky to get out alive, but it left him limp in on leg. He had been without work for three months, and what little money he had saved quickly ran dry with four mouths to feed.
I had been trying to sell Prim's old baby clothes at the black market, or the hob as we call it, and ended up on the merchant side of town. My hopes dropped when no one would by the tattered clothing. I took to scrounging threw the trash bins of the butcher and grocery, without any luck. Stealing in District 12 was punishable by death or if you are lucky prison. I continued to wander the cold air biting my skin through the skin sweater.
My nose caught smell of fresh bread; my feet carried me automatically to the scent. The town bakery came into view and the smell so strong that my vision wavered. I sank to the ground leaning against the apple tree in the Mellark's backyard.
This is how I would die. Starving, cold and soaked to the bone behind the town bakery; My sister whose pretty face was now sunken in, my mother's long blonde hair falling out ever time she touched it, and my father laid in bed, hurt leg, weighting half of what he once did.
The clothes fell slack in my hand, and I barely noticed when the door slammed open to reveal a middle age woman, plump around the middle. Her blonde graying hair pulled tight in her bun. She waved a rolling pin, "Seam brats! Seam brats! Always stealing our food! Go on now! Go back to where you came! Filthy little bitch!" she threw a rock at me, I barely felt it hit my forearm. The women retreated back into the bakery. I could only stare at the door.
Yelling and commotion came from inside, the door re-opened and a boy was pushed out, "Feed it to the pigs, boy! No one will buy burnt bread! You horrid excuse for a son!" the women's shrieking voice filled my ears again. The boy's face was red; he will have a bruise tomorrow. He's in my year and sits two rows over in history class. His name is Peeta; he's the youngest son of the baker.
Peeta tucks two loafs of bread under his arm, tarring the third and throwing it to the two hogs, splashing around in the mud. His eyes meet mine for a second, and he turns away from the pigs. At first I am afraid he will yell for his mother to come but he soon strides over the yard and hands me the two loafs of burnt bread.
"Take them." He looked over his shoulder to the door, then back to me, "Katniss, take them."
Weakly I reach out snatching the bread from his grasp, just as the door opens I hear yelling but I have already turned and began to run from the bakery. Even from a few feet I can still here the slap, Peeta's cry of pain, and his mother's hurtful words, "Feeding that Seam Whore! You stupid boy!" Quickly I run before I can hear another cry from the youngest Mellark.
The bread was still warm when I reached my home; we finished the first loaf saving the second for the next day. The bread was hearty with nuts and dried fruit. Seeing the happy smiles on my family's face as they ate their first meal in a week ran a thought through my mind, I know owe Peeta Mellark.
The next day at school, the side of Peeta's face is swollen, and red. His eye is beginning to bruise. I know I need to thank him but every chance I get; he seems not to notice me.
I stood in the schoolyard waiting on Prim, when his eyes meet mine; I quickly look away feeling my face heat up. But when I notice what is in my path, a dandelion, I realize we will be ok.
"Katniss, are you ok?" I look down to see my little sister's eyes full of worry.
"We will be ok Prim, we are going to be ok…"