Never Be Mine

By: Michelle Rose Landau

Summary: The only way she'll notice me, the only way I'll know she's interested either way, is if I just talk to her...Love, sex, marriage, and family in 12.

Genre: Romance/AU; there's still Hunger Games, but Katniss and Peeta won't be Tributes.

Pairing(s)/Characters: Peeta/Katniss, Gale/Katniss, Gale/Madge, OC/Tributes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games series. They are the sole creative property of Suzanne Collins.

~three~

Painting didn't come naturally to me. It took me years to get really good at it, but I always cringe at my early efforts at frosting and decorating the cakes, cookies, and cupcakes. I was horrible, and there was a long period of time where my mother just yelled at me, criticizing my efforts.

Luckily, my dad had more patience, and he taught me and guided me.

Now, it's second nature, and I have come to appreciate and enjoy it.

My brothers aren't as adept, and they tend to leave the task of frosting and decorating to me.

In my free time, I sketch and paint. I've used empty sacks of flour as my canvases, and I have a stack of completed paintings under my bed.

My dad once gifted me with a set of chalks and pencils, knowing that I'd taken to drawing and painting seriously.

In school, I read books about art, about what art was like before the world descended into chaos and gave us Panem. I read about people like Michaelangelo and his Sistine Chapel, I read about a man named Andy Warhol and how he revolutionized modern art.

All of the finest art, books, and artifacts from times past are held in the Capitol, and part of me wishes to see it, but I know that's something that will never happen.

Traveling between Districts is illegal, and you only get to go to the Capitol as either a Tribute or an invited guest.

What I know of the Capitol has come from the Hunger Games broadcasts.

Still, I hope that one day, maybe before I die, I'll get to see paintings by greats up close.

For now, I take great pleasure reading about them in books, and I get ideas.

I got an idea a couple days ago, and I knew that I had to tread lightly. I automatically knew that I had to talk to my Dad because he understands.

I told him my plans, and he only grinned and nodded.

"I'll put something aside for you and keep your mother busy."

My dad left some ingredients for me, and I've never been more grateful to my father.

I left the house early this morning to get to school.

I find Katniss' locker, and I place the cookies I made for her and her sister on top of her pile of books, papers, and other things.

I know her locker combination, have known it since sixth grade. That does make me a little creepy.

I frown a little bit at how disorganized she is. How does she even function?

I close her locker, then I walk away, just waiting.

My gut swirls all day long.

How will she take it? God, she'll probably be a little put off by the fact that I not only know her locker number, but her combination, and the gift.

She'll probably think I'm strange and crazy, and she'll likely continue to ignore me, with good reason this time.

Jeez, I did not think this one through.

Katniss' face is unreadable all day long, and I'm getting more and more anxious.

Katniss would be an amazing poker player with that face.

I see her giving some cookies to Prim at lunch, and Prim beams with excitement. Katniss grins herself as she eats a cookie. She shares them with Gale, too.

I made sugar cookies, and I iced them with primroses.

It's not the first time I've given something to Katniss.

The first time was when we were eleven, and I saw her huddled under the tree in our back yard. She was scraggily, gaunt, pale, and drenched on that cold, rainy day.

Of course I noticed how she and Prim were losing weight, how Katniss hadn't been getting sleep or sufficient meals. I noticed how much she was sacrificing. She would sit next to Prim and force Prim to eat both of their lunches. It was the single most heartbreaking thing I'd ever seen in my life.

And it hurt. It hurt me to the very core of my being because the girl that I liked so much was very likely going to die soon, like many children in the Seam.

It made me so angry when my mother cruelly shooed Katniss away, knowing how desperate she was.

It's the one thing I can't bring myself to forgive my mother for.

I purposely burned a couple loaves of bread, not caring about any punishments my mother was capable of dishing out towards me.

I faced and absorbed her wrath, and I waited until she was fully occupied before I tossed Katniss the burnt loaf.

She scrambled over to it frantically, desperately, shoved it under her shirt, and then she took off with it.

There are happier things I remember about her, but I always think about that rainy day.

I see her reading the note I left her.

I wrote:

I hope Prim is feeling better. If not, these should help her along. These are for you too, Katniss. Enjoy.

Best,

Peeta Mellark

She smiles, and I blink several times to make sure that it's not in my imagination.

I focus on my lunch then, and I try to get into the conversation with my friends. I can feel her eyes watching me now and my heart races.

This is crazy.

I'm crazy for torturing myself like this.

I look over at them and I see Gale sitting next to Katniss.

He looks at me, and I quickly look away.

Though they are not touching, he's sitting close enough next to her in that possessive, back-the-fuck-off-my-woman way.

The last thing I want is to be in a pissing contest with Gale. I can take a hint; I have been taking the hint since middle school.

Maybe I should get over it-over her-and focus my attention on a girl who's more available.

Definitely not Kitty.

Theo can have her if he really wants her because I'm not that desperate.

God help the man that's burdened with Kitty Seever.

Delly's out of the question; she's my best friend in the world, first of all, and second of all, she's not my type. It would just be weird, and I don't want to mess up my relationship with my only female friend.

Lately, we haven't been hanging out as much. Delly's got her own group of friends, and I've got mine, but we both know that we can go to each other anytime.

The bell rings, and lunch concludes, and I get up and go over to the trashcan. I dump the trash off my tray then I stack it on top of several others.

The last class of the day is Math.

I get high marks in this class because of handling the money at the bakery. I don't really like it, but I do well. I help others with the assignments and the problems, so I'm one of a few coveted partners.

We all file in and sit in our seats.

Katniss passes me, and sits in her seat. She glances over at me, but she says nothing, then she turns her attention to her books.

I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't expecting at least a thank you, or a smile, or a note, or an acknowledgment of any kind from her.

Of course I made the cookies for her and Prim because I just wanted to, but...come. On.

The concept of gratitude isn't a foreign one to her, I'm sure.

Dammit.

This is all my fault because I'm not much for words where she's concerned either.

She looks over at me again, and I meet her eyes, then we both avert our eyes and give our attention to our instructor.