A/N: This is basically an excuse to right a less dark and heavy Peetato fanfic. I've been craving to write something more modern day anyhow, and after some helpful advice from my good friend Mattiboi, this is what got spat out! On my profile, it's called 'Educating Peeta' but I changed the name to 'But he's my teacher'.

The musical inspritation for this story is John Legend 'All of me'.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

But He's my Teacher

You want to believe that the things you see on t.v won't happen to you. The documentaries about things as fatal diseases or the adventures of rebellious teens are out of reach, too far away to think about. Why should they happen to you? You're plain, boring, weird, nothing exciting like that will happen to you. You believe if you were in the same situation as the people on the t.v, you would be the bigger person, do the right thing, not be affected by the events being discussed.

But that's because you don't know what it feels like.

I am Peeta Mellark. Sixteen years old. And I am going to tell you the side of the story you never heard in the documentaries. The thing that is considered taboo to talk about. I am going to tell you what it's like to fall in love with someone you shouldn't.

This is not a story as elegant as Romeo and Juliet nor is it as gritty. It's love at it's barest. And I can't guarantee you'll like what you'll hear. But that's not really my problem.

It began, like any other day would, at College . . .

~xXx~

Chapter One

"Biology!" Madge ranted. "Fucking biology! Are you fucking crazy Mellark?!" She grabbed her best friend and yanked him forward so she could smack him. "What the hell possessed you to sign us up for biology classes?!" She slapped him again for good luck and slammed her hands down on her desk in a huff.

Peeta raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Because you signed us up for dance Madge. I mean, dance. I didn't even know you could get dance classes!" He straightened out his notepad and arranged his pencils to distract himself from the burning glare that Madge was sorching the side of his head with.

"It's an unspoken rule that anyone who can twerk should take dance classes and you know it," Madge hissed. She didn't even have a notepad on her table, making it clear from the beginning that she wasn't going to take notes and therefore not even caring about whether she passed the class or not. That was alright, Peeta could do the funky chicken during the dance classes and fail that.

"Biology won't be that bad. We'll learn about . . . biological things . . ." he said.

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Madge scoffed.

"Well neither do you," Peeta pointed out.

Madge squinted. "Touche." She looked around the class, blond eyebrows furrowing into a frown "Why is there so many girls in this class?" she asked. Peeta looked around as well, only just realizing that they were surrounded by a variety of girls fixing their hair and adjusting their lipstick. "Are girls more inclined towards Bio or something?"

"Maybe the only other option for them was wood work," Peeta suggested.

Madge straightened up in her seat. "Or the tutor's hot."

Peeta rolled his eyes, folding his arms and letting them rest on his desk. "Madge, to you a beach ball is hot," he pointed out. Madge scowled before grinning, licking her lips and tickling them with her fingertips.

"Ooh beach balls," she said in a husky voice. "Those plastic airheads. Sometimes when I see kids playing with them in the summer and it's just like, 'I'd go all the way with you,' you hunk of coloured fabric." Peeta laughed, shaking his head and letting his forehead rest against his forearms.

"You're too much sometimes," he said.

"I know, but you love me anyway," Madge responded.

Peeta lifted his hand and let his cheek rest against it. He lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. Class was scheduled to begin in about a minute-

The door opened and what he guessed to be the tutor came in. The man was blond and had a satchel resting on his hip, his arms full of files and books. Madge leaned forward in her seat, the ancient chair creaking with the movement. She squinted, as if trying to decipher what the man's face looked like, since he was still facing side ways as he made his way to his desk.

While the teacher set his stuff down, Peeta pencilled the date into the top of his page as neatly as he could. Madge peered over his shoulder and scoffed. "Trying to make an impression?" she whisper-hissed.

"Shut up," Peeta hissed back. He looked at their tutor, who let his satchel fall with a sigh and turned on his heel to face the rest of the class. Peeta felt a weird twang in the pit of his stomach as his eyes zoned in on his tutor's face.

He was perfection.

Obvious perfection.

Completely obvious perfection.

The man's bright green eyes scanned the class quickly and a smile was ever present on his face as he turned and liberated a piece of chalk from the desk. Peeta watched the piece of perfection as he scrawled his name onto the blackboard. Was Peeta going crazy or was the man's handwriting perfect as well? He took in his name.

Mr Hadley

Hadley. Peeta whispered the name to himself, the word seeming to roll off the tongue without anything to hinder it. Madge scrambled to pull a pad out of her backpack, slapping her pad onto her desk and quickly scribbling, pretending to take notes before Mr Hadley even started teaching anything.

"Good morning, class. I'm your biology teacher, Mr Hadley," the perfection-Peeta had decided to nickname him that-said. "I know it probably says on most of your time tables that you're getting Miss Trinket but due to a sudden breavement, I shall be your tutor for this semester and maybe more, depending on how long Miss Trinket is going to take off."

"That witch better take off all year," Madge muttered into her page, quickly scribbling down random notes about bones and body parts. "I wouldn't mind getting taught by him all night long."

"Sssh!" Peeta hissed.

Throughout the entire class, Peeta concentrated imensly. He hang onto every last word that his tutor spoke, and he thought he might have even learnt something, which never happened on a first day in class. He tried to keep his notes as neat and tidy as possible, in case Mr Hadley ever decided to look over them to made sure people were paying attention. He couldn't help comparing his to Madge's, whose writing ran together and margin was dotted with random hearts.

When the bell rang to indicate the end of class and Mr Hadley dismissed them, Peeta was actually disappointed, which was something he had never experienced before. Even Madge huffed, grumpily shoving his stuff into her bag and pushing away from her seat. Peeta packed up as well, quickly scanning his notes before putting the pad away into his bag.

"Well, that explains the girls interested in biology," Madge sighed as they exited the room.

"What does?" Peeta asked, adjusting his bag strap around his shoulder.

"The hunk teaches us about the body! Obviously!" Madge answered. "Don't tell me you didn't notice!"

Boy, did I?

Not wanting to give Madge to satisfaction and bragging rights by telling her she was correct, Peeta shook his head. "A hunk?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "Really? I didn't notice."

Madge rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if you've got any sexuality instead of being gay," she said. "No sex Mellark, that's who you're going to end up being!" She took in Peeta's confused expression and laughed, playfully punching his arm. "Come on, chum, I'm kidding!"

Peeta rolled his eyes. Sure, Mr Hadley was attractive (attractive? What the hell, the man was perfection on a plate!) but how many years older was he? Five? Ten? And he was his biology teacher, anything beyond teaching in the long run was completely out of the question so there was in point in getting excited like Madge was currently doing. "That's me, no sex Mellark," he said.

"If I had the chance, I would climb on that man and ride-"

"Whoa, time out," Peeta said, tapping his fingertips into his palm to create a 'T'. "Okay, sorry but I really don't want to know what's going on in that filthy mind of yours or what you're going to do with our biology tutor."

Madge snickered and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "No sex Mellark," she sang. You wouldn't think she was underage, the way she got on about intercourse and sex like she already knew what it was like. She frowned and stopped in her tracks. Peeta stopped beside her, confused as to why she haulted so suddenly.

"Where's your cardigan?" she asked.

Peeta frowned, looking down at himself. Damnit, he must have left it in the biology room. "I must have left it behind," he said. "You go on ahead, I'll go back and get it." Madge shrugged and went on ahead, waving goodbye over her head as they parted ways.

Peeta felt nervous going back to Mr Hadley's room, worrying that the man would think that he was some sort of idiot for leaving something as simple as a cardigan behind. His heart was pounding with nerves, the effects of his social anxiety almost crippling him. He stood in front of the door for about five minutes, his knuckles hovered over the door as he steeled himself for going in. The things that could go wrong went through his head.

What if he yells at you?

What if he's taking another class?

What if he doesn't let you get your cardigan?

What if you stutter and made a fool of yourself?

Don't make a fool of yourself!

Finally, he forced himself to knock the door, alarming himself by hitting the wood harder than planned. Heart trying to kill itself in his chest, making him feel sick. This was the horror of being socially awkward, all the things that could go wrong freaking you out to the point that even returning to a room making you feel like you were about to do a performance in front of millions of people.

"Come in!" Mr Hadley called.

Peeta turned the door handle with a sweaty hand, pushing into the room and trying to hide his panic. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr Hadley, but I accidentally left my cardigan behind."

Mr Hadley smiled, the gesture seeming to light up the entire room. The entire room which was-thankfully-empty. "I was wondering whether I was going mad or if that cardigan really hadn't been there this morning," he said. Peeta stood in the doorway, almost frozen by his tutor's emerald gaze. "Are you going to collect it or did you come to ask me to dispose of it?"

Peeta's throat went dry and he shook his head, feeling like a fool as he hurried to his seat and collected his cardigan. He quickly shrugged it on, noticing just then that one of his pens were also on the floor. Damn, how distracted had he been during that class, exactly?

"Be honest," Mr Hadley said, surprising Peeta at his casual tone. "How boring was that class exactly?"

Peeta forced himself to swallow, his mouth as dry as sandpaper. "It wasn't boring," he answered.

"That bad?" Mr Hadley responded. "You had to practically force yourself to get that sentence out."

"I wouldn't say forced it out. It was interesting." This much was true, Peeta's avid notes were prove of that. He struggled with the zip, not wishing to leave until the conversation was over. What if he left and Mr Hadley hadn't said everything he wanted to? He would come off as rude!

"Well, that's very sweet of you," Mr Hadley answered. They stared at each other for a minute, Mr Hadley had the front of the room and Peeta standing a little bit higher up from where his desk sat in the auditorium. There was something the student couldn't pinpoint, something in his tutor's eyes that was . . . odd? Yes, definitely odd. Peeta felt butterflies in his stomach, making him feel a little sick. Was it possible for someone's eyes to be so green? They were like two emerald jewels engraved in his sockets.

"I've got to get to dance," Peeta finally managed to say, breaking the weird trance between them. He pracitcally skipped his way down the steps, eager to shield himself from the power of his tutor's eyes alone. He had a habit of getting overly attached to people because of the simplest of things and he certainly wasn't going to get attached to his bio tutor.

"Dance?" Mr Hadley sounded surprised.

Out of fear of seeming rude, Peeta stopped and risked glancing at Mr Hadley. "Yeah," he replied.

"You don't seem like the dance sort of person."

"Well, you see . . . um . . . my friend signed me up for it . . ." Because apparently if you can twerk you have to be in dance class. "We signed each other up for classes to expand our horizons."

"What did you sign your friend up for?"

Peeta felt his face burn in embarrassment as he mumbled, "Biology."

Mr Hadley's grin was so wide it revealed all of his perfect pearly teeth. Peeta's heart sighed. "I'm honoured to have you both," he said. Peeta risked looking back him, throwing caution to the wind and trying eye contact, trying to see whether he was being sincere or not.

He was.

"I should go . . . there's only a certain amount of time Madge can distract our teacher," Peeta said.

Mr Hadley nodded. "Yeah, you better not get a tardy slip," he said. "I know I have no tolerance for it myself."

No tolerance for tardiness . . . Fascinating . . .

Peeta nodded, forcing a smile, and quickly left the room. Standing in the corridor, the cool air caressed his burning cheeks. Never had he been so panicked before in his entire life. As he made his way down the corridor to dance class, he had to fan himself to stop himself from passing out. He couldn't wait till it was time to take his anti-anixety meds again.

As he slipped into dance class, giving Madge a silent nod of thanks as she kept the teacher's back turned to the class while holding a conversation with them. When the conversation ended, she sat down beside Peeta and quirked an eyebrow, her ruby red lips pursing in amusement.

"Hey, Mellark," she whispered.

"What?" he asked back.

"You're a hot mess."

Crap. What was wrong with him?

A/N: Please let me know whether I should continue it or not? This story, even though light, is going to deal with a sensitive topic that some people might not like so please be aware of that. Thoughts and comments are welcome as always!

Please R&R! :D