Peeta stared at the painting for some time; the Artist was both shocked and angry by his painting that he was frozen in his spot until a loud coo from a bird outside made him jump. Rubbing his eye with the back of his hand he dropped the paint brush and plate of paint onto a small wooden table to the left of him. A familiar question ran through his brain, would he ever be free? Or would he always be haunted by the death of his family, by the ghosts of the games, by the nightmares. Taking the painting in his cold hands he gripped it at the top before bringing one hand down and tearing the painting in two.
A multitude of colours ran down his hands, between his fingers and dribbled to the floor, it would have been a sight for a bystander. Seeing the blonde baker with paint running over his hands and arms, with the early morning sun reflecting of the pinks and blue of the ripped painting. With one final grunt he threw the torn paper into almost dead fire and hurried from the room not bothering to cover his paints or wipe the wet spots from the floor. Not that he ever bothered to clean the walls and floors of that room, if so; he would have been there for hours scrubbing a mixture of paint splatters from the white surfaces.
He showered and changed quickly into his regular get up of dark pants and a light shirt that would allow his body to breath comfortably in the heat of the bakery. He ran a hand through his damp hair and headed from his house to his bakery. It was easy for him to lose his mind, his concentration inside the four white walls, yet at the same time he always had a feeling of fleeing at the end of the day, His family's ghost haunting him until he would lock the door and walk into the sunset back home.
Inside the bakery he watched the sun rise higher until District 12 came alive in a buzz of noise, hammering, shouts, children laughing. It would have been magical, if not for the fact that most people still lived in burned and ruined homes, that the hammering came from people rebuilding their lives that where destroyed the moment Katniss and him raised their handful of berries to their mouths. People came and went buying bread and rolls, some cakes, he continued to bake letting his mind focus on the task at hand. He didn't want to risk letting his mind wander to things that could trigger him off.
When he got bored he sat at the counter letting a finger run over a flour covered work bench, he wiped his finger on his apron and looked up an out through the shop windows where sun played against the glass. It shimmered and shook, rattling the window frame. As soon as Peeta thought of those words his brow creased, and he straightened his back. Since when did the sun make a window shake? He was quick on his feet, and in seconds he was by the shop window his hands on the warm glass, his face almost pressed against it before it struck him. Like the static noise of a TV, it rang through his head until he was on his but hiding below the window, arms covering his face.
Katniss had woken up early that morning, like always, nightmares haunting her. After going into the woods she came back into District 12 just as the sun was about to rise, and she could tell it was going to be a hot day. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she rolled the other feeling the tension in her muscles. As if a routine she made her way to the Bakery, the smell of bread thick in the air. It made her stomach growl and she suddenly regretted not eating breakfast. As she swung the door open she found it strange to have the place quiet. She was used to seeing Peeta behind the counter baking something. "Peeta?" she called out adjusting the strap on her shoulder looking over the counter trying to spot the blonde baker. Turning she saw him by the window, a frown immediately made its way across her face and she dumped her bag on the counter walking over to him. "is everything ok?" Katniss asked concerned seeping into her voice.
Peeta jumped hearing a voice, lifting a hand up to wipe his forehead he gave a smile that he knew would convince her he was fine. "Just taking a break" he lied moving to stand up, his normal leg stiffening for a moment before he turned to her with a warm smile. "is there something you needed?" It saddened him to think she was only here to collect her bread, he wished things were different. That she was here simply because she wanted to talk, or have company. He noticed the way she was pulling back from people, and it made him sad. He wanted to help her, he did, but every time he tried he felt he was being pushed further back. Running a hand through his blonde hair he walked around the benches and to the oven where he kept his back to her yawning for a couple seconds. He could tell it was going to be a long day
Peeta kept quiet for some minutes, taking the bread from the oven letting the heat warm his hands before he turned to her looking up as he arranged the bread on the counter. "how are you" he finally asked, his blue eyes meeting hers, filled with concern and something else.
