Gentle Love

The Volunteer

A.N so what's new other than the fact that I have yet another story now. Hopefully you'll enjoy this! Oh and it's in Peeta's pov.

I watch as the flowers sway in the spring breeze, holding onto their roots. I suppose people are a lot like flowers, we start as something small. Something that might not have much potential, but over time the small bud grows into a tall and beautiful flower. Much like we grow into ourselves today. My mother would call me stupid or ignorant for thinking like this, but it's what I see when I admire them. Life and beauty.

Out of all the flowers that scatter our district, there is one that always seems to catch my eye. It's a small one that some think of as a weed. But I think of it as beautiful and a flower that holds many secrets.

The dandelion.

Maybe it's because I catch her staring at them as well, or maybe it's because they aren't appreciated. I guess in the long run, it doesn't really matter. I turn away from the window and leave behind the flowers, because I know that they will still be here tomorrow. I suppose the real question is, will she?
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I watch her as she takes Prim's hand and leads her away from the school yard, and I watch her until my eyes can no longer see her. But even just watching her can make me yearn for her friendship even more. Her braid always sways in the wind and her grey eyes scan the crowd carefully every time she walks in. It's the little things I notice about her that I love. Love, it's such a strange yet pleasurable thing.

"Peeta you coming?" My brother Rye yells my way and I nod my head, while running to catch up.
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The day she knocks on the back door of the bakery, my dad makes me answer it. He's always known about my feelings for Katniss, and I suppose at the age of 15 he feels I'm ready to tell her. Even though I'm not. But she knocks again and I walk the three feet to answer.

"Hello," I say politely and she looks stunned for a moment.

"Oh", she looks around quickly before backing up. "I was hoping Mr.Mellark was there." I fight the feeling of rejection that bubbles inside of me, even if it's only because she is use to my dad.

"He is," I clarify for her. "But he asked me to take care of you today." She scowls my way.

"Take care of? I don't need to be taken care of." She states and begins to walk down the street.

"Wait! Katniss, hold on!" I tell but she is already too far to hear me. I've lost my chance.
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Winter comes and everyone in the district begins to go down a size in their clothes, but Katniss begins to thin so badly that I can see her ribs. And the bones in her face begin to stick out more than usual. We are so different, even in the color of our skin. The way my curves speak of well-feeding and hers are cut sharply from a malnourished body, she's small, simple, and shows of a life filled with struggle. Lithe and little she might be, but not soft and breakable. She hunts, she can outrun me, outfight me, outlive me.

And it makes me wonder: What can I outdo Katniss in?

Love. I could outlove Katniss. While she might not even think of me as a friend, I hold my love for her close to my heart.
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When spring arrives and she begins to fill out again, it feels as if a burden is released from my chest. A burden that I didn't know was looming over me. But even though the flowers have began to bloom again and the spring brings food, it also brings death. It brings out the fear in parents and the fear in children. Because while the flowers are lovely to look at, the reaping is coming and the flowers are suddenly put aside.

And along with spring, came Katniss's 16th birthday. A day I only knew of because her father once bought her a cookie for it, she never would have told me. The few words we have spoken were mere words of the weather or the animals she killed. Something most people wouldn't even think about twice, but it's worth remembering for me.

On her birthday I get up early enough to bake a cookie and ice it perfectly. The yellow frosting is bright against the grey soil as I carry it to her house in the seam, but I find it beautiful and almost something that resembles hope. I leave it on her door step wrapped in plastic and waiting to be eaten. It's a dandelion cookie that sits firmly against the wood and I hope dearly that she'll know it's from me.
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When my oldest brother lends me his comb for reaping day, I stand silently in the mirror and wait for my unruly curls to die down. I button the 6 buttons going down my white shirt and I tie the shoe laces to my dark black shoes. Deep breaths are inhaled before I leave.

She isn't hard to find in the crowd, her hands are knotting together as she stands in the girls section next to Madge. Her blue dress is long and lands just below the knee, her hair is tied up in an intricate braid, and her face is set in it's permanent scowl.

"Ollie Newson!" Effie Trinket announces to the crowd and I can see Katniss take a relived breath that it's not Prim or herself. But she doesn't know that I do the same.

I watch as Effie walks over the bowl full of boys name and listen carefully hoping that it won't be me. I haven't even had a full conversation with her, so I can't be reaped. If only I could sit with her, quietly, without even touching, because my love doesn't need that much. Only a little. I only take a little. All I need is a glance, or maybe even a smile. But I took it all for granted because I had thought I would have her forever... and I had thought we would never run out of that time.

"Gale Hawthorne!" Effie says and my heart sinks to the bottom of my shoes, not for myself, but for Katniss. It's a death sentence; suicide maybe, but before I can stop myself I step out into the middle of the walkway.

"I volunteer as tribute."

All eyes turn to me, including her's. A glance, it's what I wanted. It's what I got. She frowns and looks at the ground as I walk towards stage. But it's okay because I suppose I never really needed her to love me back, I only ever needed her to look my way. To notice me.

Life isn't measured by the things we accomplish or the dreams we make come true. It's about the people we meet and the people we love. But in all of the ways that you can love someone, it's best not to love them so passionately and so hard that it smothers them, making it impossible to breathe. Some might ask how I do it; how I love someone, and my answer is simple. It's a quiet love, and it's a gentle one.

A.N. So the idea to write this story came to me one night when I was watching greys anatomy and I was like let me write and story like that. And here we are. Make sure to ⭐️ it and comment! Xoxox