I Will Love You till the End of Time

Chapter 1- Kinda Outta Luck

A/U: so this is my first story so dont be to hard on me! if you have any questions, please review or PM me! This is also unbeta-d(?) so all mistakes are mine.(:

Disclaimer: I am obviously NOT Suzanne Collins, so dont make me feel worse than I already do!

I really want him back, but I'm kinda outta luck…

Lana Del Rey- Kinda Outta Luck

It started with two loaves of bread.

I was eleven, and my father had just died in a mine explosion. We had been given a little money as compensation in exchange for his tragic death. But it had run out long ago. My mother, my poor eight-year-old sister Prim and I were slowly starving to death. Since my father died, my mother completely shut down. She didn't do anything. While her two daughters were dying, she just sat in a chair by the window, unresponsive to the world. It took a while for me to realize that she wasn't coming back anytime in the near future. I decided to take initiative. One rainy day, I was in the Merchants Quarter, trying to sell old baby clothes, but I was failing miserably. They were plain and threadbare; of course no one would buy them! I stumbled and dropped the baby clothes in a puddle. And I just kept walking. I started to walk aimlessly behind all of the merchants stores, when the mouth watering smell of baking bread caught my attention. Without even thinking, I walked towards the smell. The back door of the bakery was cracked open, and even from ten feet away, I could feel the warmth radiating from the ovens. A thought came into my head. Maybe there's some leftover scraps of food in the trash.I run (more like stumble) to the bins and lift them eagerly, only to find them empty. They must have been emptied earlier this morning. Disappointed, I am about to put the lid back on and return to my home, when I hear a disgusted shriek coming from the back door of the bakery. It is the baker's wife and she is yelling nasty things at me. I don't remember all of it, but I do remember her rambling on about hating nasty Seam brats digging through her trash.

I'm too weak to even try and defend myself. Then I notice him. A blonde haired, blue-eyed boy, who is about my age. Peeta Mellark. He is in my grade at school, though we've never spoken to each other. The look on his face is a mix of pity for me and fear of his mother. The witch is still screaming at me. I don't even care; I'm so hungry, weak, that I cannot focus on anything. she gives up, noticing that I'm not even listening. She walks back to the bakery, muttering to herself, pulling Peeta along with her. My knees buckle as I slide down the foot of the tree she had backed me up against. All of the sudden, I see the fire from the ovens rise up through the window. I also hear the sound of something (or someone) getting hit. Moments later, Peeta bursts through the back door carrying two loaves of burned bread. He has an angry red mark on his check directly below his eye. I can hear his mother yelling at him, telling him to feed the burnt bread to pigs because no one would buy it. I would, I think. He starts to tear off chunks of the bread and throwing it in the pin. He's about halfway through the first loaf of bread when he notices me. Notices how my eyes are trained on those loaves. He sees me, looks me in the eye, and back to his hands and the bread. He glances over his shoulder as if to make sure no one sees him, and hurls the bread at me. At first I am angry. After all, its not very nice to throw things at people. But then my weak mind begins to put two and two together. He is giving the bread to me. Before I could even try to thank him, he was already inside of the building. I took that as my cue to leave. I stuffed the bread under my father's old hunting jacket and booked it towards the Seam. I ran all the way home. I ran breathless in to my house. As soon as Prim saw the loaves, she lunged for it. But even in my weak state, I held her back. I made her sit down. And I dragged my mother to the table and made her sit down too. I scraped off the blackened bits from the bread and cut it into hearty slices. It was excellent bread, filled with fruits and nuts of all sorts. It was still warm. The next day Prim and I spent the day in the Meadow picking dandelions for a yummy dandelion-and-greens salad. The next day at school, I saw Peeta with his usual huge group of friends. His eye looked horrid. It was swelled shut, black and blue. I really wanted to say thank you, but I couldn't really find the words. I mean, how can you thank someone for saving your life? I told myself to just say it. Our eyes met, and I opened my mouth to say it but before I could, he nodded and gave me a slight smile. It was then that the bell rang signaling the start of class, and I lost Peeta in the large throng of students hustling to get to class I stood there for minutes, just staring at the direction he had walked in. I couldn't get that smile he had given me out of my mind. As I was standing there, I felt something warm flow through me, starting from the tips of my toes, through the pits of my stomach, all the way to the roots of my long, dark hair. The wind blew past me and I felt something tickle at my ankles. I looked down to see that I was standing in a patch of dandelions. It was then that I declared (in my mind) that Peeta was my dandelion. He grew from the darkness and ashes and gave me hope.

It was that day, standing in front of my school, standing in a patch of dandelions, that I realized something.

I was, and forever will be, in love with Peeta Mellark.