Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Or Peeta. But I wish I did :)

The day of the reaping- 74th Hunger Games

"Other men said they have seen angels,
But I have seen thee
And thou art enough."

Peeta POV

"Get up, son! Today's a big day!" My dad shouts, pulling open the curtains. I blink as the sunlight falls into my eyes, temporarily blinding me. I groan, push the covers off, and sit up. I blearily rub my eyes, and look at my father. I can tell he's trying to smile, but it's coming out as more of a grimace. That's when I remember...today's the reaping.

"Morning, dad," I mutter, getting up. I look out the window, and from the sunlight streaming through the dirty glass, I can make out that I've slept in. I glance at the clock and see that it's 12 o'clock already. "When do we leave?"

"I just need to take care of some things around the shop, son," my dad replies. "We'll leave in an hour. Get up, now."

I trudge through our small home, that connects to the bakery. I smell the scent of the freshly baked bread wafting through the house, and my stomach starts grumbling. But my family can't afford to eat it for ourselves, even though we make it. We have to make do with the left overs, every day.

I get ready, the feeling of dread growing in my stomach with each passing minute. But everyone feels this way around the time of the reaping. Who knows whose family will get torn apart next?

Yet here I was, dressing myself up for the most dreaded occasion of the year. A black and white suit. The idea was ridiculous, but of course, you have to look good for the cameras. You know, in case you get picked.

"Peeta! Get over here, fast," my mother screams. "Why your father insisted you should be allowed to sleep in is beyond me!"

I roll my eyes and walk towards the kitchen, sitting down at the small table. My brother, Tom, is already there, eating a piece of leftover bread from yesterday. He's 19 years old, and safe from the reaping.

"Hey, Peeta," he says, smiling.

"Good morning."

"Oh, come on...don't look so gloomy! There's hardly a chance of you or Rye getting picked, anyway! It'll all be over in a few hours, and life'll go back to normal."

I sigh and pick on my food. He's right, though. Since we were one of the better off families in tDistrict 12, and not part of the Seam, I didn't have to put my name down for tesserae. Neither did my brother, Rye, who was a year younger than me. But I still couldn't shake off that feeling of dread.

"Well, hurry up then! Let's go! We'll be late!" my mother shouts, ushering us out of our seats.

I hastily slip the rest of the bread in my mouth, and walk towards the front door. My father and Rye are already standing there, waiting for us. We head towards the square, huddled together for what I didn't know might be the last time I ever did so.

We reach the square at one o'clock. There are bright banners everywhere, it's sunny, but the atmosphere's melancholy and morose. Obviously, no one's happy to be here.

We sign in, and I'm ushered to stand in line with all the other sixteen year olds. I glance back at my family. My mother's face is emotionless, as usual, and my father and Tom smile encouragingly at me. I glance at Rye, and we both smile at each other, with the hope that we'll all be seated at the dinner table in the evening.

I stand with some of my friends, but we're all to tense to make jokes or have any fun. Out of the corner of my eye, I see can see Katniss pushing through to stand in line looking tense and stiff. My breath catches in my throat as I look at her. She looks beautiful. She always does, but today she's wearing a lovely gown, with her hair put up in that intricate braid. I'm not going to pray only for Rye and me- I'll pray for her, too.

I reluctantly tear my gaze from Katniss as the mayor starts with the formalities. I space out through the speech- It's been the same one, year after year.

After his speech, Effie Trinket takes the mike, and her annoying, high pitched voice can be heard.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She squeals. "Ladies first!"

She dips her hand into the ball containing all the girls' names, and pulls out a slip of paper. With bated breath, the whole of district 12 stares at her, waiting to hear the name that will come out of her mouth.

I glance at Katniss, fervently hoping it wouldn't be her. Then, Effie Trinket announces who it is.

Primrose Everdeen.

Oh no. Everyone murmurs, upset, as they always do when a twelve year old gets chosen. But I'm looking at Katniss, who's standing shell shocked, motionless. She collapses, slightly, and I see a boy from the Seam steadying her.

"Prim! PRIM!" she shouts desperately. I watch helplessly as she rushes towards the stage, and I immediately realize what she's about to do.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as a tribute!"

There's a collective intake of breath, as everyone stands, shocked and confused. District 12 hasn't has a tribute in years.

My heart breaks as I watch the girl I've loved for years walking bravely towards the stage...towards her death. I watch as Effie Trinket congratulates her, and asks everyone to give her a round of applause. But no one does. Instead, the entire Seam, each and every person, touches their three middle fingers to their lips and hold it out to her. It means a goodbye, to someone you love. I don't want to say goodbye. But do I have a choice?

Haymitch, drunk, manages a congratulations, and then the cameras are trained on him, Effie Trinket hastily moves on to the male tributes. As her hand reaches into the ball, she pulls out a piece of paper and reads out the name.

Three guesses who got picked.

"Peeta Mellark!"

It doesn't register for a second, but then all my friends are shouting around me, girls throwing themselves at me in despair. Giving me hugs, reassurances that don't help me at all. Someone gently pushes me, and I snap back to reality.

Walking towards the podium, I try to convey as less emotion as possible, but inside, I'm filled with panic and disbelief. I have to play against Katniss? Katniss Everdeen? Possibly watch her die, and die myself?

Of course, there are no volunteers, when Effie asks for them. My friends don't care about me that much, and Rye always was a coward. But still, better me that him.

As the Mayor reads through the Treaty of Treason, I sneak a glance at Katniss. She's looking down, despair and sorrow written all over her face, and I know she's thinking about the incident with the bread, years ago.

I remember the first time I fell in love with her. Heard her sing. It was beautiful, and I knew I was a goner. Ever since that day, I hoped for the happy ending my own father couldn't have. Stealing glances at her in the hallways at school, glaring jealously at her and Gale, always hanging out together...but I never could build up the courage to go talk to her.

After he reads through the Treaty, the Mayor motions for Katniss and me to shake hands. Taking a deep breath, I step forward and take her soft hand in mine. I've imagined doing that for years, just holding her and being with her, but definitely not under these circumstances. I look her in the eye and gently squeeze her hand , trying to reassure her.

I never thought there'd be a bright side in all this, but maybe there is. I can protect her.

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