Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in this story, by reviewing, following, or placing it in their favorites even though it's been over half a year since I've updated. I plan on finishing this story as well as my other WIP, 'Touched'.
This chapter has not been Beta'd so bare with me and all of my minor errors.
Chapter Two
The pain at the back of his knees is stabbing as he crouches down in front of the old trunk, the scratches there deeper than most of the others that now litter his body, a morose reminder of his stay at the orphan home in nine.
The wooden slats forming the floor of the second story creak underneath his weight as the pads of his feet and toes strain to right his balance.
He releases one last heavy sigh before he reaches for the corroded metal latch, the once golden finish a deep green from years of wear and exposure.
Tiny flecks of painted metal flack off on his fingers as they grip onto the fastening. The faded varnished shavings tickle the pads of his fingers before he brushes them quickly at the thigh of his slacks, the material now covered with shiny metal.
With one last effort of avoidance, he lifted the latch earning a deep popping sound signifying that he now had access to the items that were housed in the worn leather trunk.
With one hand, the other holding onto the side for balance, Peeta lifted the heavy lid, the hinges hissing from years of use and inattention.
A gust of dust and the scent of mildew wafted out of the luggage in a rush, the fresh air mixing in with the interior, he had to resist the need to cough followed by gagging, the silk lining long ago ruined by water damage.
He had debated on bringing anything more than could fit into his canvas satchel, when he was aware of his move from the orphanage, but he felt strange about leaving the few possessions he had behind.
It was true that his childhood for the most part hadn't been glowing, but the tattered books and yellowed pictures were the only things he had left of Mr. Mellark, the only man he had known as a father, even if he wasn't the one who Peeta had genetic ties to.
The lid flew back as Peeta pushed it open, the weight of the lid and the force causing the bottom of the trunk to rattle for a few seconds before settling.
He rose up further, arching his back to bend over the lip of the trunk to peer inside; the items that he had placed and organized carefully were now tipped on their sides and tousled.
Peeta let out an aggravated sigh, before reaching into the trunk, his fingers skimming over the spines of the toppled books, their leather binding broken and worn soft underneath his finger tips.
Peeta choked back a sob that threatened to escape from his throat when memories of Luka Mellark began to flood his mind, always a gentle man with an easy smile.
With the back of his free hand, Peeta wiped the tears forming at his eyes as he took in a deep breath.
He could feel his pulse steady with his breathing as he looked over to the left side of the luggage, the edge of a faded photograph peeked out from underneath a stack of books.
Peeta was already aware of what the photo was of, and he dreaded having to reach for it, as he cleared out most of his belongings.
With trepidation, he slid his hand that had been skimming the titles of the books; over to the corner where the picture was placed, his anxiety rising once more, the pulse point at his neck throbbed.
The books moved over to the side easily, a few flipping on their backs, the pages fluttering quickly sending the scent of aged paper into the air, before settling.
His eyes landed on the thin piece of paper that held the somber faces, the black and white coloring had faded into a pale yellow from age, and the ends had already stated to curl into themselves.
Peeta traced the lines of her face gently, afraid that anymore of an effort would send him into a rage, and he was curious of how someone so young as she was in the photograph had already held so much animosity.
Even with the subtle hues, her blond curls were full and bright, making Peeta confounded on how someone could appear to be so vibrant but be so spiteful inside.
He could assume why she had been sought after when she was a young woman, because even after all of these years her beauty was still substantial, and her determination to get her way hadn't diminished either.
His mother wasn't a woman who liked to be told what she was permitted to do or with who she wished to commit the action with.
So when he had learned at an early age about his paternity, it hadn't surprised him in the least that she had conceived a child with another woman's spouse.
He closed his eyes tightly, a deep breath escaping between his teeth as he locked his jaw, his incisors grinding against each other.
A deep hiss filled the space around him before he opened his eyes to look back at the picture, her posture proper as a cotton dress hugged her curves, it wasn't difficult to decipher that she had come from a merchant family, her cheeks full, without the sunken appearance of hunger he had witnessed firsthand during his stay at the orphan home.
Peeta couldn't help but resent her for her selfishness, indiscretions, and the pain she had happily inflicted on him as a child, and even more so he tried not to hate her for the way he had been created.
It had been apparent how the towns' people already felt about him, their assumptions were more than enough adequate for them, before he even had the chance to prove himself, he was already deemed a problem. His mother had damned him, because he was already seen as a troublesome nuisance, a sideshow freak to entertain the masses.
Peeta exhaled loudly before pushing himself up from the floor, his legs stiff at first, the bruises above and beneath his skin burned and pulsed for a few seconds, before his legs regained their feeling and his balance with it.
The lid still hangs over the side, the hinges creaking from the movement of Peeta pushing off of the luggage, until the metal quiets, the items in the trunk still on display, haunting and mocking him as he stared down into it.
The photograph of his mother when she was a young woman, he assumed it had been taken around or during the time she carried on affair with his birth father, was still facing up, and even with her presence being in the form of a photo he could still feel his stomach twist in knots.
Peeta bent down quickly reaching for a book in the trunk, when his grip was solid, he threw the book onto the photo, blocking his view of it, and even with such a trivial act he could breathe easier.
His body was still sore from the few previous days the bruises and cuts were still fresh enough to cause him discomfort, and the emotional exhaustion was as nearly trying as the physical.
So when his balance faltered sending him forward a couple of steps he didn't think much of it.
He sighed before looking up toward the far wall of the room when his eyes met the cracked mirror.
His reflection peculiar due to the separation of glass, the lines and symmetry of his face broken, but even with the askew view he could still clearly see the bruises and cuts marring his skin.
Peeta turned his back to the memories held in the trunk to walk the length of the room to the mirror, his pace rushed and a bit clumsy.
He could see his reflection shrink as he approached the mirror, his face now back in tact now that only one side of the mirror was needed.
Peeta kept his locked on the familiar blue eyes, deep lines and circles covering the skin along and beneath his lids.
He reached out to the mirror tracing the lines of the bruises on the glass before gently placing his fingertips to the sensitive skin, causing him to wince, even the light pressure uncomfortable.
Superficial cuts ran over the bridge of his nose blending into the dark purples and swelled skin of his bruises, he can only imagine how he'll appear to the town when he arrives at school the following day, they've already branded him as a careless womanizer, he can hear the murmurs coming from the gossips lips of his violent nature already.
Peeta moves his fingers from under his eyes to gently slid across his face to the light cuts at his nose, the scrapes placed where the collection of freckles litter across his nose.
It had always been interesting to him, especially when he was younger, that his mother and father had fairer complexions than him, but as he arrived in the Seam he noticed that the tone of his olive skin was shades lighter than anyone else around him, which made him feel even more, separated from the people around him. He couldn't properly blend, he would forever be seen as conspicuous, doomed to be noticed and judged.
And it's then that the image of the petite girl with the braid came into his mind, her skin glistening from the sweat that covered her body, the thin material of her tank top clinging to her chest, revealing the curve and swell of her breasts.
He had been interested by her when he had spotted her working behind her house, he had needed a distraction from his reality, the reason he had gone for a walk through the Seam, and she had caught his attention, the skin of her lower back peeking out from the worn material.
When she had turned on him, her eyes wide and wild, blood covering the front of her body a knife held in her grip, he had been oddly intrigued and shamefully aroused.
She had something that set her apart from most, and he couldn't help but let his mind wander, her words almost drowned out by his fantasies.
However, when she had introduced herself and he had come to the realization that she was the girl that Gale had been speaking of earlier, his stomach had knotted up, and he head felt sick.
Her adamant protests about she and Gale not being involved, had helped him relax, the dread that he may be attracted to a woman that another man had claim to made him feel ill.
It had been difficult to walk away from her, and he had to stop himself from closing the gap between their bodies.
Peeta closed his eyes forcing his mind back into the present, he knew he could lose himself in thinking about her, and it frightened him how much he wanted her already.
It was clearly childish and in all respects delusional to feel a connection to a complete stranger after only a brief meeting and a few words shared.
However the curve of her shoulder and the skin there with a dust of freckles escaping underneath the strap of her top, played in his mind continuously, and he couldn't help the curiosity he had towards her.
Peeta let out a deep sigh before curling his fingers in the fabric of his undershirt, the hem damp from his sweat, the tips of his fingers brushing over a portion of skin at his waist where he could feel the sunken crater of skin, his fingers recoiled and he resisted the urge to push his shirt back down instead he gritted his teeth.
He squeezed his eyes together tighter, before inhaling slowly as the fabric moved up his body with the in tune with his breathing, Peeta was cautious not to allow his fingers to touch his skin, he wanted to delay the image for as long as he could.
The joints at his elbows popped slightly as he extended his arms fully, the wind entering the room from the open window blew against the exposed skin, giving it a short relief from the heat before the humidity of the room set in.
Peeta pulled the shirt over his jaw before it traveled over his face, before being discarded on the floor beside him.
He forced his eyes open, so that it could be easier to find a replacement article of clothing, but he was careful not to glance over to the side where the mirror was, he was fully of aware of what he would see, and he wasn't ready to look upon his flawed skin just yet.
Peeta made the short walk over to the one of the twin beds that were placed up against the wall of the room, where his canvas satchel sat, the flap pulled free, as the bag laid on its side, a couple of shirts hanging halfway out.
The edge of his sketch book had slid out along with his clothing and for a few seconds he felt a panic rise up through him.
His knees knocked against the metal of the bed frame resulting from his haste, a sharp hiss escaped his lips as he pushed the book of papers back into the satchel, while his other hand pulled the light fabric of the button up shirt free.
Peeta pulled it out fully tossing it to the head of the bed, discarded the thought of changing for a few seconds as he turned his attention to the inside of the bag where the sketch book was now placed securely.
He slid his hand in, the tips of his fingers brushing up against the aged leather binding, the material soft from where he had creased the edges from years of use.
Peeta was aware of how foolish it seemed that he become wound up over someone discovering his sketches, it wasn't as if he hid the fact that he drew from the world.
Ink markings were on the side of his satchel, where he had penned a vast landscape he had pictured in his mind.
Dark lines bled into the canvas of the bag, the ink separating from the material to eventually set, presenting to the world his hobby.
It was something that had kept him sane through the years, his art had been his life line through abandonment and pain, and he wasn't ready to share it with others.
Peeta took a deep breath before pulling his hand free to push the other articles of clothing into the bag before closing the flap.
A cool breeze traveled through the window to brush against his bare skin, bringing him back into the present, Peeta reached to the front of the bed, pulling the shirt to his body.
The material was soft against the skin of his stomach as he undid the buttons before spinning the shirt around and pulling the material over his arms.
Normally he would have worn the undershirt he had on during moving, but Hazelle had been kindly adamant about him looking presentable when their guests arrived.
Peeta felt awkward imposing on an obvious family tradition that the Hawthornes had with the other family.
He already felt odd staying in district twelve and his anxiety was only increased with having to seem comfortable with in the family dynamic.
Peeta knew he was an outsider, it would have been easier for him if Hazelle had treated him as the nuisance he was, but instead she had shown him nothing but kindness and he knew she wasn't aware of how painful it was to him.
He was halfway done with buttoning up his shirt when he heard footsteps coming up the landing of the loft where he stood dressing.
Peeta buttoned the rest of his shirt before the weight of someone else's presence caused the wooden slats to creak and bow slightly.
A disapproving snort sounded behind him before he had the chance to turn around, Peeta breathed in deeply before faking a smile, the curl of his lips feeling spurious.
He wasn't surprised to find Gale scowling at him from the side of a stack of boxes he held against his chest, his arms circled around the sides.
Peeta fought the urge to glare back as he reminded himself that his intrusion had to be hardest on Gale and that perhaps the older boy was due his understanding.
So when Gale kept his scowl, Peeta consciously wavered, darting his eyes to the side to appear nervous, earning a satisfied smirk to curl the sides of Gale's lips.
The muscles at his back tensed in disapproval, but Peeta waved off any sense of pride he felt entitled to claim.
He could feel the mood lift slightly with Gale reassured that he was the dominant male, and Peeta merely the permissive intruder.
It had always been interesting to him how false reassurances could quell the most wicked of tempers, manipulation being a skill he had used at the orphanage saving him from some beatings.
Gale keeps his eyes trained on Peeta, before shrugging slowly as he moved over to the bed on the far left that was positioned underneath the slats that completed the roof of the second floor.
Peeta watched as he tossed the boxes onto the mattress haphazardly, his arms still outstretched when he turned back towards the younger boy, ignoring the wave of clothing and trinkets that now pour on the thread bare quilt.
"I can't wait for it to rain and leak water all over me as I try to sleep," Gale paused for a few seconds to grit his teeth and lower his arms before speaking," but even then rain water won't be my worst fear seeing that Vick has been having accidents lately."
Peeta could feel the tension in the room mount, the pressure threatening to crush any of the resolve he had left, and with that the shallow layer of tolerance he grasp onto when dealing with Gale would be gone.
He could see Gale shake, his anger physically manifesting in a wave of tremors and labored breathing.
Peeta began to speak before Gale beat him to it, "Do you know why he's been wetting the bed, lately? Because he can't seem to stop the nightmares that consist of watching our father burn to death in a mine. Which were under control until he heard you existed, and now all the horrors are back. Why? Because you're here," Gale pushed his hands through his hair roughly," And the reason why I haven't been able to repair the roof is because I've been so busy keeping everything going and everybody together, but here you are and all you have to do is just exist."
Peeta swallowed slowly before reacting, his voice coming out heavy and forced, "I never wanted… I don't want to be an inconvenience for you or your family. It wasn't my choice to come here, and I'm sorry if my presence has caused any pain."
Gale lets out a low laugh, the expression is riddled with discontent and it hangs in the air like poison, "Caused any pain," Gale started his approach towards Peeta his footing deliberate,"All you've done is cause pain."
Peeta could feel the anger raise up through his body, his patience becoming thinned, "I'm hardly the one you should be angry with, I'm just as much as innocent in all of this as you are."
Gale nodded slowly," Yeah well, his dead remember? There's not much use in hating him now."
Peeta kept his eyes dead set on Gale's, "Neither is there in hating me."
"You'd be surprised in how useful it can be."
It was Peeta's turn to nod, "Well Gale, I'm glad I can help out in at least one way. It's quite wasteful to let all of your anger be directed towards someone who can no longer feel pain."
Gale watched Peeta closely before turning away, breaking eye contact, "You need to hurry up with all your crap, my families guests will be here soon."
Peeta shrugged, "I'll do my best, Gale."
The older boy glared at Peeta before turning on his heel, walking the short distance to the landing and descending down the stairs leading him to the first floor of the dwelling.
Peeta could feel the tension in his muscles subside if only partially, but he was glad for the momentary relief.
Even before he had arrived in the district he was aware of negative responses he would receive, but none of his assumptions could have guessed how angry the oldest Hawthorne was, and how much of his rage was directed towards Peeta who as much of a victim in all of this mess as he was.
A part of him was curious if staying in the orphanage back in district nine would have been a wiser choice, even with all the abuse he had endured, at least there he was aware of the dynamics and terrain, he could easily navigate through all the manic personalities there, and he had even made it almost bearable to live there after he had made friends with some of the more violent older boys.
But here he was outnumbered and vulnerable, in a place that already knew all of his secrets, even if he didn't.
Peeta could hear faintly the voices of Gale and his mother, over the joyful giggles of Posy, the youngest of the Hawthorne children, as Rory through her up into the air to catch her only moments later.
It pained Peeta to invade into such a private family moment, even if he was only partially hearing most of the exchanges.
He ran his hands through his thick hair, ends of the strands pushed out from between his fingers to wildly splay against the skin of white knuckles, the coloration gone from the vise grip that he now had on the roots of hair, Peeta could feel the slight tug at his scalp.
With his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, his feet took him over to the mirror that was nailed to the wall closest to the window.
It took him a few seconds of watching the tips of his worn leather shoes before he looked up slowly, his eyes inching up every inch, the thin breaks stemming up from the wood guided him to his reflection, the image slightly altered from the crack in the glass.
It took a few seconds before his vision righted and he could clearly see himself in the aged glass, his hands holding tight onto his hair, his arms raised, the image seeming manic and almost mad to him.
To be truthful the entire situation was enough to cause someone to become insane with unanswered questions hanging over his head, and a past that he would rather forget than have nightmares of every time he shut his eyes, a waking never ending time of pain and loneliness.
Peeta lowered his arms from around his ears, his fingers releasing his hair, the pain ebbing slightly from the grasp he had on the strands.
His eyes traveling to his nose where a patch of freckles lightly sprinkled over the bridge, the pigment different than the olive skin of his face, he studied the markings that stopped at the corner of his right eye.
He tried to not look away but his appearance always made him feel empty, light scarring was at his cheek from a strike that he had received from his mother when he was younger and the bruising from the orphanage was still obvious, even to the most oblivious of people.
He was battered and broken and the worst was that he couldn't hide it, because it was easier to be secretive about your longing and pain when you felt something emotionally and mentally but to physically have the torment litter your body was a way for the outside world to see just how dispensable and tragic you really were.
Peeta fought off the tears that threatened to well at his eyes; instead he pushed the emotions down into his gut only to have them tighten at his chest, the pressure almost overwhelming.
He could feel himself drifting back into that space of madness, when a sound from outside the opened window drew his attention down to the side of the house.
The warm wind traveling through the curtains carrying with it the hint of abandoning joy inside a light bought of laughter.
Peeta sharply turned his head in the direction of the sound, his body nearly colliding with the wall in the process.
He could feel his muscles tighten throughout his body as the anticipation of discovering her beneath his window, began to rise up through him.
He caught the smallest bit of dark hair weaved into a tight braid from where he stood, but her voice was what assured him of her presence if only a bit quieter than a few seconds before, slight so that only the petite blonde she held onto could hear but it was still commanding and Peeta couldn't help but lean closer to the window so that he could attain a better view of her.
She had changed out of the sweaty clothing he had seen her in from before, her skin not as flushed as it had been and part of him liked the image of her not being so controlled.
Peeta shook his head scolding himself of thinking about a girl he had only met a few hours ago in such a way, before he stood up quickly, banging his head onto the frame securing the glass pane.
The window shook and the clatter echoed through the room, Peeta hunched down quickly his right hand going to the back of his skull where the pain radiated from while the other hand secured his balance against the bottom half of the wall.
He could hear light hearted giggles coming from outside from where he squatted and he grimaced at the fact that she most likely witnessed his moment of stupidity.
It isn't until he hears the voices of those downstairs rise, and the front door opening and closing from the arrival of their visitors that Peeta begins to stand upright, it takes all of his will power not to fall forward from dizziness as he rights his footing, and heads towards the staircase that leads down to the first floor.
Peeta wipes the sweat coating his palms onto his pants, before he attempts to smooth the wrinkles from his shirt.
His footsteps are louder than he would have wanted, the sound alerting everyone to his presence. All eyes fall on him and he's extremely aware of the pair of grey eyes that find his, her expression is indifferent and Peeta has to fight the hurt from showing up in the lines around his mouth.
However, Gale's narrowed eyes and glare are easy to decipher and Peeta has to fight the urge to glare back, in a natural attempt at defiance.
He's almost to the last step when he notices Hazelle motion to the top of her head and then towards him, he's puzzled to what she's indicating when all of a sudden he remembers that his hair is still standing straight up from his scalp from when he had been tugging at it.
He nervously presses his dark blonde hair down, a few more giggles come from Posy and the blonde girl that Katniss had been talking to, when everyone else turns their attention from him to other matters in the room.
Even she turns from him and he feels a pain in his chest he wasn't aware that he could feel, however the curiosity of the sensation is gone from his mind when Gale begins to walk towards him, his eyes still narrowed at Peeta.
Everything begins to go still, as Gale approaches him, his stride exact and determined, a sick feeling begins to rise up from Peeta's stomach into his mouth, as his own footing in pushed back into the railing of the stair case.
He can't help but notice the same sensations caused by the moments before he's been beaten in the past rush through him, sickly, numb and unyielding of fear.
However even with his emotions threatening to cloud his mind he kept his resolve to stay calm, he didn't want to let on to anyone, especially Gale that he was as much troubled as his wounds entailed.
He could feel the corner of the railing press into the middle of his spine and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grimacing.
Peeta didn't have long to adjust his back against the wooden railing before Gale leaned into him, the height difference apparent and another reason for Peeta to feel intimidated by the older boy's presence.
Gale was low enough for their conversation to be private in the small space, but the edge it held from before had deepened, "I don't want you here," Gale took a second to look back at the gathering in the center of the room his eyes watching the girl with the dark braid before turning back to Peeta,"But since I can't seem to get rid of you for now, I expect you to treat those three women with respect. They mean a lot to me and this family, so I expect you to stay in line."
Peeta nodded sharply, the insides of his cheeks began to swell from the number of times he had bitten into them to control his temper, "I understand, Gale."
Gale narrowed his eyes before speaking once more, "And don't think I didn't notice the way you were looking at her."
"You'll have to be more specific, there are more than a few females in this room."
The sides of Peeta's mouth begin to curl up in a sardonic matter, before Gale steps into the last remaining space separating them, his voice low and hard, "I would think you of all people would realize how foolish it is to mess around where you don't belong," there's a short pause before he continues," something your mother never came to grips with."
Peeta couldn't hide his shock, his eyes widening, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a small hand tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.
His eyes traveled from Gale's scowl to a mess of dark curls surrounding a round face and bright eyes.
He couldn't help the smile that was now formed at his lips, as she stared up at him, her petite fingers curled into the hook of his elbow, hanging onto the fabric there.
Posy had managed to wriggle in between the two older boys without either knowing of her presence until she was ready; Peeta couldn't help but be impressed by how someone so rambunctious could obtain such stealth.
"Who are you?"
Peeta opened his mouth to speak before closing it soon after until opening it to mutter quietly seconds later, "Well, I-"
Posy tipped her head to the side, as she arched her back, causing Gale to back up slightly,"Are you my brother?"
Gale's voice broke through the tension, sharp and unrelenting, "He's not your brother, Posy."
Posy kept her eyes trained on Peeta, awaiting his answer, as she clearly ignored Gale, "Well?"
Peeta furrowed his brow, before answering softly, confused as to how to react, "I don't really know what I am."
Posy shrugged her shoulders, her dark curls falling back behind her, "Okay."
She pushed her body from between the two older boys, rounding behind Gale as Peeta could see her fleeting form heading towards the gathering of women at the center of the room, her voice booming, "He doesn't know what he is!"
Peeta could feel his cheeks already beginning to burn before he caught her grey eyes summing him up, her expression unreadable and stoic.
He was lost in the sight of her, that he nearly missed the moment Gale pushed his shoulder back causing him to falter slightly.
It may have looked like a friendly exchange between two young men but Peeta was all too aware of the intended meaning.
He had spent most of his childhood living in district orphanages, which had equipped him with an understanding when an underrated nudge meant so much more, and it had been his experience that violence ensued soon after.
It took Peeta only seconds to resolve the thread of calm he had been gripping onto before he noticed that her gaze hadn't left him, causing the blush that had started at his cheeks to travel down beneath his shirt to cover his broad bruised chest.
Gale had made his way to the other side of the room, instructing the younger boy, Rory, to begin helping their mother with the setting of the dining table, a sturdy piece of carpentry that had clearly been crafted by hand, bumps and indentions traveled alongside the surface, giving it its authenticity.
With Gale out of hearing range, or most importantly far enough to prevent him from causing bodily harm, Peeta took the last few heavy steps toward the center of the room where the women stood.
Posy ran around the crowd, her curls bouncing around her face as the petite blonde from before bent down slightly to poke at her sides, when the little girl rounded behind her.
Peeta had devoted most of his energy towards moving his body forward that he didn't notice when Posy collided into his side, until the burn from his bruises and fresh cuts invaded his senses.
Peeta gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, a small sheen of sweat formed at his brows as he looked down at his side, Posy's bright smile stretched across her face.
"Sorry."
Peeta shrugged slightly, the pain beginning to wane, "It's alright."
A clearing of someone's throat in front of him, warded his attention, causing him to yet again stare into her watchful gaze.
It was uncomfortable for him, as to how it already came far too easy for her to unnerve him.
A slight petite blonde woman who matched the features of the one, who had shared laughter with Katniss, stepped into his line of sight obstructing his view of the girl, her hand outstretched, "I'm Lily Everdeen, it's very nice to finally meet you…officially."
Peeta gave a slight nod of recognition before he took her hand in his, "Maam."
Lily drew her hand back before placing it on the shoulder of the blonde beside her, "This is my youngest daughter, Primrose, "Peeta gave a slight nod before following Lily's motioning hand towards the girl who made his stomach bottom out," and this is my daughter-"
Peeta's voice cut in abruptly as he stepped to the side of Mrs. Everdeen regaining his view of the dark haired girl, "Katniss," pairs of brows peeked in confusion and curiosity," oh, we've met."
Her tone was firm and quick, "Briefly."
Peeta looked down towards his feet quickly before raising his face back to hers, a crooked smirk forming at his lips, "But memorable."
The shock gracing her features, muddled with the blush rushing over her sharp bone structure is short lived, before her expression is once again indifferent, but Peeta can't help but revel in the few seconds that he caught her off guard, something he assumes is a rarity in her case.
The soft blue fabric of the wrap dress bunches at her shoulders as she straightens her posture, causing the collar to fall slightly revealing an area of exposed skin at chest above her cleavage.
He can't help but feel disgusted with how easily his eyes travel down around her collarbone, before hearing a deep cough causing his sight upward where she now narrows her eyes at him as the others make their way to dining table.
Peeta attempts to mumble out an apology, as Katniss studies him once more before turning on her heel to join the others, leaving him standing alone to mentally scold himself.
The simultaneous conversations muddle together, echoing through the first floor of the Hawthorne residence, making it difficult for an outsider such as Peeta to decipher through the myriad of communication.
He trails behind Katniss who seems, along with her mother and sister, more than at home, which leads him to assume as to how complicated her relationship with Gale, really is.
He can't help the hollow feeling he feels rising up his chest or the sudden connection he now relates to her.
Everyone takes their designated seats to begin, which only makes Peeta feel even more disconnected being the sole new comer.
He watches the younger boys push each other playfully, until Rory pushes his brothers face to the side so he can pay more attention to Prim and her in depth speech on herbal remedies.
Peeta has to hide his amusement on how smitten the younger boy seems towards the soft spoken petite blonde, who seems all but clueless of the Rory's feelings towards her.
Posy on the other side has already begun to prattle on about a wayward squirrel she saw this morning as she placing her grubby hands into her water glass, watching the liquid swirl and take up the flecks of dirt she hadn't washed off before eating.
Hazelle is quick to fetch her hands out, shaking the fingers into the air to dry them, a slight smile on her lips as she tries to scold the little girl who slumps in her chair annoyed.
Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Gale and Katniss in deep conversation, as he's tempted to turn towards them, but instead he keeps his place, standing at the corner of the table observing.
He's so preoccupied with taking in the display before him he nearly misses his name being called over the commotion of the room.
He searches the table for the origin to finally come in contact with Mrs. Everdeen's bright smile, "Peeta," she motions to a chair that remains empty two spots to her left," here come sit."
Peeta doesn't pay much mind to the location of the chair until he rounds the table, and finds it to be to Katniss' right, where she has begun to fidget with the end of her dark braid.
Her nimble fingers thread through the ends of the curling strands, his eyes on her movements that he causes himself to run into the side of the chair to her left, where Gale is now seated, his glare hard and stern.
Peeta can hear him comment on how foolish Peeta seems, as he makes his way behind his chair, pulling it out and seating beside Katniss with Gale on her other side.
The tension is already unbearable, and Peeta fights the urge to shake his leg uncontrollably, he knows that especially now it's wise not to annoy Gale any further, but Peeta has a sneaking suspicion that his nervousness has more to do with the girl beside him than Gale's anger.
He barely has time to settle in before plates of meager servings of food are passed back and forth; eager hands reach out and dispense sensible amounts.
Peeta keeps still, his hands resting on his knees, as he watches the younger children already pushing the broth based stew into their mouths.
Rory desperately tries to bring Prim into a conversation but she only scolds him for talking with a full mouth, droplets of broth and saliva already litter his sleeve, his cheeks burn as he hangs his head eating in silence.
Peeta fights the urge to groan when his stomach turns and cramps from hunger, but growing up in an orphanage taught him that permission first was the most accurate way not to earn a beating.
He felt himself flinch from the sudden movement of a hand to his left, years of abuse had wired his body to avoiding the onslaught, but the only thing that became struck was the worn porcelain plate in front of him, as a serving of stew appeared beside him.
Peeta looked over to his left to lock eyes with her; the steely grey he had become acquainted with now held softness to them.
She motioned to his plate, nodding to it quickly, "You better eat now or there won't be anything left for you, not with the younger ones."
Peeta nodded his thanks to her before reaching for his utensil, and brushing it beneath the pile of food.
He kept his eyes to his plate as he ate slowly, the cuts around his mouth made the action painful but he still had to eat or the physically ache he already had would only worsen.
Occasionally he would look up, but the tension and intense glares Gale was sending his way only made him want to cower.
The normal commotion had died down and only the scrapping of metal onto porcelain, and the occasional rickety sound of chairs settling on wooden floors filled the room.
Peeta couldn't help but wonder if he was the cause of the silence but rational reason led him to the obvious conclusion that he was, he was the only factor.
Also the fact that he could feel the warmth of her skin brush against his wasn't helping the nausea that traveled up through his body, or the urge to reach out to her.
At point he had nearly fell out of his seat when her bare knees had brushed his thigh, and he found himself sitting awkwardly, his legs pressed tightly together, to create enough distance from their bodies.
Peeta could hear Gale from his left mumble strings of obscenities, as he scraped his fork along his plate, which only earned him a warning glare from Hazelle across the table.
Vick had joined in with his older brother, sending Peeta hateful glares from across the table, while Rory was far too interested in watching Prim, but Peeta was positive that if the blonde hadn't been present that Rory would have been all too willing to join in with Vick to follow Gale's suite.
Posy had resumed playing in her water glass as Mrs. Everdeen playfully poked at her and attempted to have her join in on a nursery game where she had to name all the animals that started with the chosen letter.
She had been thrilled to shout out the appropriate letter that she was utterly oblivious to the happenings around her.
Peeta nearly jumped when Prim's soft voice sounded, cutting the silence, "Peeta what in the world happened to your face? It's such a shame for someone so handsome to have such ugly markings."
Peeta blushed in embarrassed as Katniss sat her fork down, causing it to land in a clatter, "Prim!"
Rory glowered at Peeta, "He's not that handsome."
Katniss interrupted Rory's string of mumbling, "Prim, don't be so nosy."
Peeta cleared his throat before sneaking a glance at Katniss, "It's alright," Peeta ran his fingers through his hair before continuing,"I just got into a fight…a couple of times."
Gale threw his fork down nearly causing his glass to fall over, "Great! So we're housing a delinquent who we can't afford to have stay here?!"
Hazelle's voice came out forceful, "Gale!"
Gale sat up in his chair, "No, mother! I think we should all just cut the crap and explain to us why we have to pay for father's mistake!"
"Gale this is not the time or place for this discussion."
"Why not everyone's family, "Gale motioned to his right," well except him. And I think the Everdeens should know why they'll be receiving less food from now on."
Hazelle's voice was sharp and Peeta felt nauseous listening to the force littered through it, "Gale."
"I don't know why you even brought him here, he doesn't belong here! Take him back!"
Hazelle slammed her hand down, causing everyone at the table to jump, "Enough!"
Posy drew her fingers out of her glass before slinking down and raising the tips to her lips, her shoulders slumping.
The conversation stopped abruptly even before the dishes had time to quiet down, the rattling of china filling the silence.
Peeta could feel the bile rise up through his throat, the meal he had forced down was threatening to reappear, it wasn't until he felt hand upon his that he had the courage to look up from his lap, and into the eyes that were focused on him.
Her eyes held the same softness from before but this time, a small reassuring smile graced her lips, Peeta smiled back before looking to their joined hands on his knee.
Katniss gave his fingers a tight squeeze before drawing her hand back to rest at her lap.
The rest of the meal is spent in silence, with only the occasional hiccup or question from Posy, not even Gale utters a word, not even under his breath.
Even with the unsettling tension threatening to suffocate him, Peeta can still feel a phantom touch lingering at around his fingers and on top of his hand.
She occasionally shifts in her seat, which only encourages his hopes to rise and then bottom out when her hands stay placed at the table.
Peeta dares a glance in her direction which is usually met by Gale's glare, his face drained of most color like his knuckles from holding onto the edge of the table too tight.
He continues to watch Katniss even after Peeta adverted his eyes, which led him to assume that Gale is all too aware of Katniss' kind act.
And it's then that Peeta realizes that Gale may have been right, that even the smallest gesture of kindness towards him can be damming.
But even so Peeta can't stop himself from wondering what it would be like to be touched by her in more than just a casual way.
In a way that makes him forget exactly how damaged he is, in a way that gives him hope.
A/N:Thank you to everyone you took the time out to read this, even though I'm sure all of the interest is long gone. I'm hoping to have another update soon. Please Review!