I remember a lot of things about Peeta. He was always the kindest of us all, the purest, and God knows Tom and I tried to protect him as much as we could. For as long as I can remember, he's been in love with Katniss Everdeen, a girl from the other part of District 12. He came home from school one day, telling us he had found the girl he would marry. He already knew better than to say it in front of Mom, and chose to share his super-secret with us.

"When she sings, the birds stop to listen to her! I swear I'm not lying! I want to marry her! Then we can hold hands, and I will lend her my pencils!"

"Did you talk to her? What does she look like?"

"Not yet ! But I will. Alec, girls like flowers?"

"They usually do, why?" I wondered what Peeta had in mind.

"Because I'm going to give Katniss some!"

"Katpiss? You like a girl named Katpiss?"

"KatNiss, dummy!" He laughed at the swear word he wasn't allowed to use, and each time Peeta laughed, it brought Tom and me comfort, a soothing balm on our wounds, both the physical ones and the ones in our heads. We tried to protect him as much as we could, for as long as we could.

Unfortunately, it wasn't for a long enough time.

He never talked to her, nor gave her flowers the next day. Mommy dearest didn't let him.

Somehow, when he was near Katniss, he seemed to lose all ability to be the smart, witty teenage boy he usually was.

I always wondered what would have happened if we had been here that day with the bread. But we were out for deliveries on that sad rainy day.

Not everything was bad in our house. I remember the day when Tom stormed into the bedroom the three of us shared.

"One day, I swear I'm going to punch him so hard his own mother won't recognize him!"

He threw his backpack on his bed, his cheeks red, his eyes sparkling with anger, his fists trying to hurt his pillow.

I looked at Peeta, who shrugged, a smirk on his face. This wasn't the first time Tom came home in one of this mood, usually because the girl he was pining for had chosen another guy, or because he had lost a match at his wrestling practice. That day, it must have been the first option.

Peeta looked up from his textbook, and by an unspoken agreement between us, asked the question.

"So, who was it this time? Enton Mandar?"

"Mandar? What are you talking about?"

"You didn't face him today? Coach told me you were going to spar?"

"I don't care about Mandar! It's fucking Hawthorne!"

I saw Peeta sitting straighter, as he always did when Gale was involved. It was common knowledge that Tom and Gale couldn't stand each other. They were so different in appearance, Gale with his dark hair and grey eyes, my brother blond like the three of us, yet so similar in every other aspect. They both strive for attention, either from the girls in their class, or to show off their physical strengths. We never understood, Peeta and me, what made Tom so different from us - he was the fire to our embers, the shouts to our whispers, the fury to our tears.

"And what did Gale do, this time?" I chimed in, not especially wanting to know the latest part of the Tom/Gale competition, but needing to assess if there would be retribution. From Hawthorne or our mother. I honestly couldn't tell which would be worse.

"He kissed Bristel! In front of me!"

"And?" I really didn't know what the problem was. Bristel had been pining for Tom for weeks now, and he always turned her down.

"He KISSED Bristel!" he emphasized the word, as if we didn't hear him the first time.

"And that's a problem? You told her you weren't interested in her, so she has the right to go to someone else, right?" Peeta seemed as lost as I was in the Gale/Tom/Bristel/Whatever drama. But one thing was certain : we didn't have to fear mom this time.

"Bristel's mine! I would have told her yes, eventually."

"You don't own people, Tom. She chose. She's got free will, you know."

But my brother had other thoughts, in his unending fight with Gale.

"I know! God, I'm stupid! I know what I will do! It's obvious, I'm so stupid I should have done it ages ago!"

I heard Peeta sighing before Tom continued.

"I'm going to go after that girl! The eldest of the Everdeens! They always come to school together, she's important to him. I'm going to do to her what he did to me with Bristel!"

Some say Peeta is the fastest one of the three of us. Some say he might one day be the strongest wrestler in school. But with our six years of difference, I was still quicker than my little brother to grab Tom by the collar.

I was lucky, I had rage and fury on my side for once.

"You will NOT touch a hair on Katniss Everdeen, you fucker. Not now, not ever. You will not touch a hair or lay a hand on her sister either, do you understand?"

There was no way I would let him break Peeta's heart - Kiddo had already suffered way too much in his thirteen years on this damn earth. I wasn't going to let a hormonal teenager hurt him any more than he already was. I was the eldest, I was the one responsible.

Or so Mommy dearest said.

I could feel Peeta's eyes burning my back - I bet he didn't understand why I stood up in favor of Katniss. I wanted to scream at him that I wasn't a contestant in the run for her heart. That I was doing that for him, but that would have to wait a bit longer. I heard Peeta pack his textbook and head out of the room, as I pushed Tom against the wall a bit harder.

"See what you're doing there, asshat? You will not touch Katniss Everdeen - whether she's with Gale or not. You're not breaking Peeta's heart, too! I thought we had a deal? Or is it like every girl you've been with? Promises made to the wind you never intended to keep? He's the best of us, Tom! She's giving him a hard enough time! You swore!"

I could feel the anger towards my mother rising , the hate I had for her - She didn't love us, but she couldn't stand Peeta, only because he wasn't the girl she longed for. She tolerated Tom and me, knowing hands were needed in the bakery, but our brother was the target of her wrath. That he could decorate the cakes, that he had a hand light enough to create the most amazing flowers out of sugar didn't help. How many times did she call him a girl? How many time did we see tears in Peeta's eyes when she told him she regretted birthing him, that he stole the daughter she had been carrying with him and who died at birth?

We swore, Tom and I, to protect him as much as we could.

Tom just needed to be reminded from time to time.

There are so many things I regret not doing for Peeta. He never knew how important he was to me, how his simple presence could help us get through some days, because I wasn't courageous enough to tell him. On the bad days, when she hurt us we were sure to find a drawing under our pillow. My favorite one of his was a sunset - it was made with a simple pencil, but the details were amazing. Peeta has always loved sunsets, maybe it's because orange is his favorite color ? I just know I started carrying his drawing with me every day, carefully folded in my wallet. It was proof that some things were good in this life.

Fortunately too, Tom came back to his right mind after I reasoned with him for wanting to go after Katniss. Then I went to Peeta, telling him I scolded Tom for not being respectful of women in general, and the Everdeens in particular, for wanting to use them in his personal vendetta against Gale Hawthorne.

It was a few months later that she started to come every week, every Sunday, bringing meat and berries from the woods nearby.

Bringing Gale with her too.

And it broke Peeta's heart every week.

I could see my brothers, close together, kneading the dough for the day, or decorating the cakes, sometimes laughing at each other, or talking about the next tournament. But every Sunday, when the old clock in the kitchen chimed ten times, Peeta would freeze - it only lasted a second or a half, or maybe even less, I have never been able to tell.

We all knew what ten o'clock meant.

They would be there shortly. Katniss and Gale, with their haul for the day, to trade on the threshold of the bakery's backdoor. Sometimes they brought some berries they found in the woods, usually meat too. Gale had been bringing rabbits he caught in his snares for years, but the addition of squirrels perfectly shot through the eye came with Katniss.

My father always gave them more than what their haul was worth.

I remember seeing them walking from the Seam, stopping first at the shoemaker's shop to trade whatever bird they had caught, as the Cartwright girls were fond of poultry, before heading our way. Then they always stopped a few steps from the threshold, as if to assess whether they would be welcomed this time. Guess the door was opened by Mom at one time or another on a Sunday morning.

The Seam Twins. Now I remember how everybody started calling them that at school. They shared the same features; dark hair, olive skin and grey eyes, they could easily pass as cousins, or maybe even siblings.

Peeta was always looking at the door, those Sunday mornings. I knew he was torn between wanting to be the first one to open it or running away from it as quickly as possible, as if the piece of old wood was cursed. Maybe it was, cursed by the touch of my little brother's love, a love he confessed to me months ago, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one in D12 who knows about it.

And every week, there was this flicker of hope in his eyes that she would be alone, that he could talk to her for a few minutes - he made me swear to let him take my place at the door if that was the case.

Every single time, I could see that hope disappearing from his blue eyes as he disappeared as far away from the kitchen as possible. Every Sunday, I opened the door to the pair from the Seam. Every Sunday, I told Peeta to stay close to me.

Because every Sunday, I could see Katniss's eyes searching for him.

Teenagers.

I remember how sad Peeta was when he came back from the Games. How the smallest things could still make him happy . Sometimes it was just dandelions, blowing in the wind that he drew on his sketchbook. Another time, it was successfully giving a cookie to a child, far from Mother's wrath. Or giving his lunch away to another.

I remember his kindness, his heart so big I'm sure all of Panem could fit in it.

I remember his shock, at hearing Effie Trinket read his name, but the sheer determination with which he walked to the podium.

I remember his laugh, this balm to my soul.

My name is Alec Mellark, and as I die in the destruction of District 12 under tons of brick and a burning roof, I hope, hope that Peeta is still alive, somewhere. That he will get what he deserves, a life of happiness. He's always been the best of us.

My huge thanks to xerxia31 and tanb for beta-ing this story.

Thank you Anon, for sending a prompt that inspired me. I hope it didn't disappoint too much!

I'm thegirlfromoverthepond on Tumblr.
Please review if you liked! Thank you :)