KATNISS POV

I shut the engine off as I pull into the driveway and prepare myself for what would no doubt prove to be a long night of studying. Collecting the books that I had switched with Madge, I open the car door and head toward the house. It isn't until I reach the front porch and trigger the sensor light that I find Peeta sitting alone on the front door step looking exhausted and a little upset. While I'm pleased to see him, I shoot him a look of confusion; I had decided to go study with Madge for a couple hours so I wasn't expecting him. Nonetheless, it was a nice surprise.

"Hey" I smile, fidgeting with my keys before I manage to take in his features; Its hard to tell in the dim porch light but his eyes look bloodshot and slightly swollen. That's when I begin to worry because Peeta's such a caring, light-hearted person, this wasn't normal; what could possibly have gotten him so upset?

"Hi" he replies, his voice croaky and barely audible. He forces a smile and stands up before following me inside and gently closing the front door behind him.

"Peeta, is everything ok?" I ask him gently, placing the books on the table before turning to him.

He gives me a sad look and sighs. That's all the answer I need to know that everything isn't ok, its surely far from it. "I didn't realise you weren't home," he sniffs "But I just needed to get out of there."

"Out of where? I was with Madge; you should have called; have you been waiting long?" I ask, my eyebrows dipped in confusion.

"Nah, 'bout ten minutes. I walked over, so…." He trails off before letting out another sigh. "Mom and I had another fight."

"Oh, Peeta," I give him a sympathetic smile and offer him a seat in the kitchen. He sits, looking awfully defeated. "What happened?"

"It all started with that stupid history paper we got back the other day." He begins slowly.

"You did well on that, though." I interject, a little confused.

"Not well enough apparently." He shakes his head and scoffs, a look of anger beginning to register on his usually calm features. "She found out and decided I could have done better. That's what she says about most of my grades but Dad's usually there to keep the peace; that usually keeps her quiet …or at least keeps it away from me. But he's been away with work all week so," He trails off again as if trying to find the words to describe what had happened.

I don't really know what to say or how to react because usually these roles are reversed; so often I find Peeta comforting me, using his way with words to ease my confusion or stress or sadness. But now, its like these words are struggling to even come to the surface. I flick the kettle on and prepare him a cup of tea; I know he would often drink tea to relax so hopefully this will help in some way.

"She just started yelling and yelling." He mumbles with another sniff "and I just stood there and took it. I tried to reason with her but she just seemed to have years and years of abuse and disappointment to hurl at me."

He spends most of the time looking at the ground, avoiding my eye contact which is unusual for him. Letting out another deep sigh he runs a hand through his tangle of blonde hair and finally looks up to me, as sad look on his face. I continue to sit with him, listening for the most part with a sense of anger of my own; how anyone, let alone his mother, could talk to him this way is beyond me.

"I tried to tell her that I was doing my best but she didn't care. Y'know what she said to me then?" he says, almost letting out an air of laughter, the anger returning to his features. "she said, "I wish you would just do something to make your father and I proud of that mistake we made 18 years ago."" He says, the hurt registering on his face as he squeezes his eyes shut, but not before a stray tear makes its way down his cheek.

My jaw literally drops as I take in his words. The mistake they made? "Oh, Peeta." I say, recycling my words from before. I'm at such a loss as to how to comfort him right now.

"The mistake they made." He mumbles, shaking his head a little bit. His voice is riddled with disbelief and sadness and its clear that these words have absolutely shaken him to the core. I just don't understand how someone so good and so pure as Peeta could possibly be considered as anything even remotely closed to 'a mistake.'

He diverts his eyes back to the floor and begins fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "I can't believe she would say that, y'know. Even if it is true…"

"No, Peeta, please don't even begin to think like that. That's the furthest thing from the truth ok? You are not a mistake. You're purest, most kind-hearted person I know and if she really thinks that then its her loss, ok?" I tell him quickly, a desperate attempt to remove this from his thoughts. I don't want him thinking like this, I don't want this to be the thing that he spends time focusing on. "What happened after that?" I ask quietly, thinking maybe this will change his pattern of thinking.

"I just stared at her. I couldn't believe she'd said it and it almost looked like she couldn't either. I kinda thought that if I waited a minute or two she'd realise what she had said and try redeem herself, backtrack on her words or something, but …. nothing. So I left. I didn't even grab my keys or anything. I just left." He says, the sadness returning to his voice. "Made sure to slam the front door behind myself though."

I stir some milk into his tea, making sure I gave him the one with no sugar and brought the mugs over to where he was sitting. He offers me a thankful smile but you can tell his thoughts are still elsewhere.

"Here," I offer him the mug and sit back down next to him. It isn't until he goes to wrap his hands around it that I notice the state of his right hand. I guess I hadn't seen it until now because he'd spent most of the time wringing them together. "What the hell happened to your hand?" I ask, placing his mug back down on the table and taking his hand in my own.

He sighs. "I, uh, punched the wall outside when I walked out. It was stupid, I know, but I was just so ….angry." he says, looking up at me this time. He has something between a grimace and a smirk on his face, but even that still can't hide the sadness in his tone.

His hand is quiet bruised and a few of his knuckles have remnants of dried blood lightly caked over them; the cuts that caused them have since stopped bleeding but, nonetheless, he's done a right old job. While I've never seen anything along these lines on Peeta, I definitely didn't expect to find something like this occur as a result of anger. This whole situation was wrong.

"Can you let me clean that up a bit?" I ask, offering him a gentle but hopefully reassuring smile.

"Thanks." He smiles in return. I take his hand and lead him over to the kitchen before filling the sink with some water and grabbing a washcloth from the nearby linen cupboard.

"Sit." I instruct. Peeta pulls himself up onto the kitchen counter, mostly with the help of his good hand and sits quietly, patiently as I begin cleaning the wound on his hand.

He lets me work in silence for a few minutes; I can see his eyes watching me closely as I use the damp washcloth to gently dab the dried blood away. Lucky for him he didn't do anything major; the cuts on his knuckles aren't too bad so they don't need stitches or anything, but they'll definitely leave a nice bruise. I head over to the medicine cupboard to try find some of the antiseptic that Mom would often use on Prim and I in these types of situations when we were younger. When your mother's a nurse you pick up a few tricks along the way.

"Y'know," Peeta begins from where he's perched on the counter, "I had always wondered what I'd ever done to make her hate me so much, but I guess it all makes sense now; can't love what you never even wanted."

I sigh as Peeta turns his attention to the floor again. Taking his good hand in both of my own, I try catch his gaze and offer him a smile. "Peeta, your parents do love you, ok? I don't understand why your mom is saying all of this and I'm absolutely not taking her side but I can tell you that she does love you. And your Dad; he has so much love and time for you. You're not a mistake and you're not unwanted." He summons up a small smile but diverts his gaze once again. I put my hand under his chin and tilt it up to look into his bright blue eyes, "Hey, I want you; I would've left you on the door step if I though you were a mistake." I say with a playful smile, attempting to defuse some of the tension that was in the air.

This helps a little as a small yet genuine smile graces his features momentarily. "Thank you, …I'm sorry for just dumping this all on you; I didn't know what to do, I just left and found myself here, I guess." Peeta mumbles sincerely.

"It's ok, Peeta, it's what I'm here for," I offer with a smile, "when does your dad get home?"

"Tomorrow night." He sighs, running a finger over his bruised knuckles and sizing up the damage for himself.

"You can stay here 'til then if you'd like … I mean, if that will help?"

"Are you sure? What about your Mom? And Prim? I don't want to freak either of them out …with this" he asks nervously, looking down at his slightly swollen hand.

"Positive. Prim's staying at a friends and moms been on the late shift so she should be home in about an hour; she's a nurse Peeta, she's seen plenty worse then a couple beat up knuckles."

"No, I mean …" he struggles for words for a moment before continuing "I don't wanna come across like some kid who got upset and ran away cause mommy told me off for not doing my homework …" He mumbles quietly, a slight dip appearing between his eyebrows.

"Hey, this is not like that and you know it. Do you really wanna go back there? It might just make this worse with the state your in, Peeta. I don't want that. Mom will understand; families aren't perfect, she knows that." I say with a sense of finality before instructing Peeta to head into the living room and pick a movie.

He was beginning to calm down but you could still sense the combination of sadness and anger in his voice and registering on his face at times. Thankfully, he was becoming less tense and slowly returning to his normal self, for the most part. I was glad he'd left when he did; if he was angry enough to punch a wall, who knows what could have happened. Not that I would think he'd do anything to hurt his mom, but things get said in the heat of the moment and I didn't want him regretting those things down the track. Part of me was worried that she could have hurt him, physically. Peeta has always said his mother wasn't the nurturing, loving type but I had no idea things were this bad, especially without his father there to calm her down like he said he usually did.

We get about half way through the movie Peeta had chosen by the time I hear my mother's car pull into the driveway. She bustles through the front door looking somewhat exhausted from her late shift, but I knew she was used to it.

"I'm home Katniss!" I hear her call from the front door before her head pokes around the living room entrance, "Oh hi, Peeta, I didn't know you were here. How are you?"

"Hi Mrs Everdeen, I'm good thanks." he says with a faint smile while trying to put on a brave face. While his attempt isn't too bad, he doesn't fool me and something tells me he hasn't fooled her either. I give his leg a reassuring squeeze before getting up and following my mom into the kitchen.

"Long night?" I ask as she begins unpacking some of her things.

"Ugh," she sighs, "You could say that."

"There's some left over pasta in the fridge if you're hungry" I offer, beginning to fidget with the braid that hung over my shoulder. She gives me a thankful smile in return. "Uh, mom, could I ask you a favour-"

She interjects before I have the chance to finish my sentence. "Is Peeta ok, honey? He doesn't seem quite like his usual, cheery self?"

"Uh, yeah that's what I wanted to talk to you about actually." I bite down on my lip and she gives me a quizzical look, "Would you be ok if he stayed her the night? I wouldn't ask but things aren't good at home for him at the moment; his Dads away and he and his mom and a fight. He's really upset, you noticed from just talking to him for five seconds. He's better now but you should have seen him when I got home, mom, he looked so hurt but I don't think he can be alone at the moment and I definitely don't think he should be home with her at the moment. I mean I can sleep on the couch if that helps…you know I wouldn't normally ask but –" I'm rambling now but she cuts me off again before I have a chance to plead our case further.

"Katniss, Katniss, slow down, it's ok" she gives me a reassuring smile as I take a stray hair behind my ear and look to her, "he can stay here as long as he needs."

Hi guys! not even sure why i'm doing this like three years on but i stumbled across my story the other day and i guess i got a little inspired. Everlark still have my heart. I dont wanna say that'll ill keep this up cause i don't know if i will, but i would rally love it if you could read and review this ..who knows, maybe i'll keep it up. I dont even know if people still read this anymore or what but, worth a shot. So yea, i'd love it if you could R&R. I figure we've never really seen Peetas vulnerable side so, thought i'd explore it. :)