Howdy. THG is my life and I've always wanted to write an Modern World AU, so this is it. I've written a Delta fic before, but I love Everlark too much so I needed a new pairing for this. I've always hated loose ends and I like to tie them up. Then Gally happened. There are only six other stories in existence labeled as Delly/Gale romance so I understand if this isn't popular. But I've fallen in love with this pairing. Because in the same way that Peeta is the dandelion to Katniss' fire, Delly is Gale's dandelion. Not sure if that makes sense to you, but I promise this will be good if you stick with me. I enjoy comments and constructive criticism but don't give me any crap.

This fic will be written in Delly's POV but I might switch it up if things get boring. This first chapter is slow, as first chapters are, but like I said stick with me and it'll get better. I will fit as many HG characters in here and there will be very little OCs. Along with Gally there will also be Everlark, Heffie, and possibly Foxato. Once in a while I might have song lyrics or some sort of quote to set the mood because I love it when other authors do that, but I also understand that many people just skip that part. Like most of you are skipping this long A/N. To those people: Screw you.

Okay then. Let's see how this goes...

Chapter 1- One Cardboard Box

I believe that we humans greatly underestimate the power of a cardboard box. There are thousands of them helping us every day and when we're finished with them, how do we repay them? By breaking them down and recycling them. The medical equipment that helped your mother get through your birth was most likely delivered in a cardboard box. If you wanted to be technical you could even say that your parents meeting was helped by a cardboard box. If they met at a restaurant, the plates and utensils meant cardboard boxes and bubble wrap. If they met at a library, all those books came in cardboard boxes. And after you were born the toys they bought you to help nurture your mind were brought in cardboard boxes. Perhaps you even played with the cardboard box instead of the toy. So in a way, our entire society might be the product of a simple brown cube.

These thoughts seep into my mind as I walk into the attic of my house. There are so many cardboard boxes up here all with different labels and shapes. Dusty or clean, old or new, they have stories locked inside. All I have to do is lift the lid, pull off the duct tape, find any crevice where I can look inside and find lost treasures. I walk over to one named "DELLY BEFORE 10". The lid comes off easily and I can pull out old pictures- well not that old- turning yellow at the corners from at least six years of being banished. Banished for holding memories of my parents' fights and my brother whom I never really knew; The Dark Ages as my mother calls them. My dad most definitely wanted a son when he and my mother tried to have a baby. Instead, he got me. Four years later he tried again and go this wish. But he couldn't just give me away. Even if I was the black sheep my dad considered me to be. My mother protected her lion cub so he couldn't dispose of me, mentally or physically. So he took my brother and left. Getting rid of my mother, me, and keeping his perfect son all in one neat little package. One cardboard box.

I put the cover back on, sealing away chubby me, tiny Richard, and our now divorced parents. I move on to another box. A happier one. The one labeled "WEDDING PHOTOS". Not my parents. Not the marrige of Angelica and David Cartwright, but the small Las Vegas wedding of Angelica Cartwright and Christan Mellark. It was a small wedding, the party consisted of only six members, including the bride and groom. Only a flower girl doubling as a Maid of Honor, a ring bearer, and two Best Men. I was twelve at the time, Peeta fourteen. It was around the time I took on the nickname Delly, Christian gave it to me. Delly Cartwright. I liked it. It had a nice ring to it. Christian came up with it and his sons enforced it. Well, mostly Peeta because he was the one I saw the most during the time our parents dated. Peeta's two older brothers were never around as I grew up. Johnathan, the oldest, was 20 when I met him. He had a girlfriend and was in college. Asher, the middle child, was 18 and getting ready to go to a culinary school in France. Peeta was the youngest, a good-looking fourteen year old who I assumed would ignore me. Instead we connected. Our bedrooms were right next to each other and we shared a bathroom. Peeta was the first one to address the elephant in the room; Tell me why your parents divorced and I'll tell you why mine did. I take one last glimpse at picture of my mom in her 100$ wedding dress, the Mellarks in their semi-matching suits, and me in my 10$ flower-girl/Maid of Honor dress bought from Kohl's straight off the clearance rack. Giving a mother to motherless children, a father to a fatherless girl, and uniting two broken hearts in one simple marraige. One cardboard box.

I don't even bother folding the flaps back down. I know that they'll just pop back up again and I really don't want to get any duct tape. The second-to-last box that I want to look at has "DELLY+PEETA" scrawled on the top. I open it up and find two siblings who aren't related but have the same look. The blonde hair, the pale skin, the blue eyes. Although my hair is curly and Peeta's falls in waves over his eyes- which are more of a cerulean while mine are sky blue- and there's a two year age gap between us, we could be twins. It was a question that came up often. Until he turned seventeen Peeta was always a few inches short and I was always one inch too tall. Before Peeta went to college we would take turns camping out in each others' bedrooms building forts out of pillows and sheets, even though we were too old to being doing that sort of thing. When we were younger Peeta would tell me fairytales his dad told him, his words seemed to bring characters to life. I could imagine Little Red Riding with scarlett blush walking past a rabbit hole with a young British blonde falling down, down, down. Even at twelve I was hypnotized by him. Peeta had the power to manipulate words and create stories. I would close my eyes and listen to his voice, only to wake up with our parents peeking into the tent to find us with our heads on each others' shoulders fast asleep. The fairytales couldn't last forever of course. On the night of Peeta's fifteenth birthday we camped out in his room and he told me a new story. Of a young boy who lived with his father, mother, and two older siblings running a local bakery. At first my eyes were wide at what seemed a happy story. But then when the boy burnt bread on accident while a young girl smiled at him through a window, his mother hit him. I listened to the story as it unfolded to the boy understanding that the bruises and cuts he saw on his brothers were not from biking or soccer or any of the other lies they'd told him before he became apart of the secret. One day, the boy's mother grew so angry with him she threw a chair down on him snapping his femur bone in half. I began to cry but Peeta continued the story. The boy's mother was sent to jail and later on had a restraining order on her sons and husband who later divorced her. But the young hero lost so much blood that he was given a new prostetic leg and a cane to walk with. At that point I looked up at Peeta as he pointed to the post that kept our tent up. I shifted my position and felt plastic underneath his pajama pants. Then I told Peeta it was my turn to tell a story. About a little girl named Delilah who had a father that ignored her. I knew the story didn't have as much courage and my storytelling skills weren't as good as Peeta's but he still cried at the thought of a father who told his own flesh and blood that he didn't love her. I promised Peeta a happy ending. Delilah's mother remarried the father from his story and they all lived happily ever after. THE END. One cardboard box.

"HIGH SCHOOL" is the title of my final brown square. The box's contents include pictures of Peeta and me on the beach, at the park, school plays, cooking club, all of our years as siblings. They mingled with other pictures of Peeta's friends who later became my friends. Clove, a short but fiesty brunette who met Peeta when they worked on stage crew in middle school. A godlike boy named Cato who knew Peeta through wrestling. His ex-girlfriend who weaved in and out of the group however and whenever she pleased, a blonde bombshell called Glimmer. Felicia, who went by the nickname Foxface, which she recived from her ginger locks, foxlike features, and keen intelligence. Mavel, who knew everything about surviving a zombie apocolypse and was one of the track and field stars. Thresh, a tall boy with a large frame who knew Cato and Peeta from wrestling team. Later on Thresh would introduce me to his little sister Rue, who would become my best friend. Everyone that knows me best inside. One cardboard box.

Four boxes, four stages of my life. Who knew you could learn so much about Delilah Lilly Cartwright in four cardboard boxes? My mind comes back to the world when I have to sneeze. Why did I come up here in the first place? Oh right! I suddenly remember I had a reason to my search. I fumble through a few pictures until I find his Senior Yearbook. I clomp down the stairs flipping though it until I come to the section with all students whose surnames begin with E. Katniss Everdeen. A lovely girl with chocolate colored hair, olive flesh, and silver gray eyes. The girl who smiled at Peeta all those years ago causing him his first taste of abuse. The girl he would go on and on about during our "sleepovers". The girl who happened to choose the same university as him by luck. Then, at summer orentation, my dorky brother Peeta finally got the guts to ask her out. A simple three lettered word response would spark a three hour phone conversation between the two of us. He brought Katniss home for Christmas to meet us and I remembered seeing her at one of Marvel's track meets. Peeta told me she was also in archery club. When he came back for spring break I went ring shopping with him. At the end of May we got a screaming phone call that consisted of three words. "She said yes!" That was yesterday. Now, my last month of school will include tests and meeting my new in-laws. Summer will be wedding planning chaos. Semtember will mean the begining of my last high school year and sending off my brother and his new bride. I head into my room and pick up my iPhone.

"Rue? You'll never believe it..."