The Boy In Love // THG Peeta's POV

The Boy

I awoke on my own that morning, a luxury I am rarely afforded in this house. Instead of dragging myself out of bed, however, I simply stayed within the toasty confines of my bed and stared at the cracks in the ceiling, as if all my problems would melt away if I just lay here. But my brief moment of calm was too soon shattered by my mother.

"Peeta get your lazy ass downstairs this instant!" came the inevitable shriek from downstairs. Just like every other morning. I yanked myself from the blankets, the fear of a beating this early in the morning overcoming my desire to ignore the demand and stay in my warm bed. The frosty morning air hit me like a bucket of ice water, but I plowed through it, throwing on the first thing I saw in the closet and rushing downstairs, nervous that I was in trouble.

 The tousled blankets on my brother's empty beds served as evidence that I was the last one to the bakery, and that was usually 'rewarded' with a smack on the back of the head from my mother. In my rush I tripped on the last step and stumbled into the oven room like an idiot. My brother James, eldest of three, laughed at my foolishness.

He was a spitting image of me, with the same close-cropped blonde hair, spring blue eyes and broad shoulders. Our biggest differences were the slight height difference and the small scar on his upper lip from when he tried to eat a butter knife.

"Great entrance there Peeta," he said with a smirk, his eyes glinting with mirth.

"Shut up," I snapped, annoyed. He responded with more laughter at my expense. "Is she in the front?"

James brushed off his flour-dusted hands on the front of his apron before heaving a loaded bread tray into an open oven. "Yeah, I think so. You better hurry, she sounded angry."

"What else is new," I replied with a roll of my eyes as I raced towards the front of our small bakery. I hoped my mother was there, she tended to be less temperamental at the front of the bakery, where customers could walk in any minute.

"There you are!" said a nasal voice behind me. "Took you long enough." I stopped in my tracks and turned around with a sigh, looking into a side room that was for frosting cakes.

"Sorry, I just-"

I was interrupted by the sharp sting of a slap on the back of my head. "I just don't care," she said, making no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice. "Do you utterly fail to understand the concept of-" She cut herself off suddenly, as the tinkling of the bell attached to the front door reached our ears. 

I took my chance and grabbed the pastry bag from her hands. "I'll finish up here, why don't you go help the customer?"

She shot me a death glare, but the prospect of a customer was much more important than lecturing me, so she sped away without another word.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding as I set the pastry bag down on the counter infront of me, which was littered with cakes; each with their own unfinished frosting art.

I had a few minutes before my mother was done with the customer, so I decided to grab a bite to eat while I still had the chance. The second  I entered the kitchen however, my nostrils were assulted by the pungent odor of alcohol. 

"Peeta?" asked a familiar voice from the corner of the room, just under the breakfast table.

"Luca?"

There was the sound of shuffling intermingled with grunts and a dark brown head of hair popped out from under the table. "Yeah. It's Dad again. You know how he gets around the reaping."

I nodded, having no difficulty recalling those terrible nights when I was younger. "Need help?"

"Please. He has an surprisingly strong grip for a passed out drunk."

Together, we ducked back under the small table and pried our father's fingers off the single table leg one by one before each gripping one of his arms and dragging him off the ground and onto the closest chair.

I steadied him while my brother yanked the nearly empty flask from his hands and brought him a disgusting smelling green drink. 

Luca tipped the glass to his lips, and he took one sip before spitting it out all over the table. "Gross!" He whined, slumping over in his seat and laying his head in his hands. "May, May, May..." he muttered, sounding on the verge of tears.

Before I had a chance to stop him, Luca dumped the drink over my father's head. "Get up, you drunkard! Get. Up!"

I sighed. "I'm sorry Luca, but I'm already in enough trouble with mother, I need to-"

"Go ahead, I'll deal with this baby. There's a fresh loaf on the counter if you're hungry."

I nodded at him and ripped off a piece of the loaf before I left, rushing away from the scene as quickly as possible. No matter how many times I witnessed it, the sight of my father incapacitated never failed to bring bile to my throat. 

On my way to the frosting room, I paused by a large window that overlooked the district. Straining my eyes to see past the houses and businesses of twelve, all the way to the meadow, I could just see a sliver of the woods. 

The very woods where Katniss probably was at this very moment. Katniss was the girl of my dreams. She started out as just a small crush, but as the years passed she grew into much more. Which was really absurd, because we'd only really spoken on one occasion, and I was pretty sure she didn't know I existed. But I loved her all the same.

I narrowed my eyes at  woods, thinking of Katniss alone in there with Gale. Ugh, Gale.

The very name made me sick to my stomach. As Katniss's hunting partner, he was as close to her as I wished to be. And somehow, I couldn't blame her. He was strong enough to survive the mines, a good hunter, and to be perfectly honest, not too hard on the eyes. Though despite my hatred of him, I had to admire his taste. The girls at school fawned over him, so he had his pick, but he still chose Katniss. Smart boy.

"Peeta!" said a shrill voice at the front of the bakery. The customer must have left already. "You had better be frosting already, or else!"

I sprinted towards the room with the cakes. Guess freetime was over.

*****

Hello readers! Thanks for choosing to read my story! The next chapter will be the reaping. Please vote/comment if you like the story so far :)

-Siren Song