victorbychance | First Painting: [Action/Voice]

[Peeta officially has his own bakery. Which is pretty interesting, and he takes it all in stride. It's not really his bakery, after all--it's Luceti's bakery, and he's just making sure it doesn't die. In the meantime, all kinds of new and delicious things are appearing at the bakery--specialized breads, goat cheese and apple tarts, cookies and cakes with delicate frosting decor, an interesting pastry with a bittersweet chocolate and raspberry filling, cheesecakes in the shapes of flowers, things like that. There's also an abundance of cheese buns. Don't ask why.

Today he stops by the item shop, looking for things to have around the house, and ends up picking up a gift for Rue while he's at it. Later, he sits at home and speaks into the journal.]

Where I grew up, you didn’t really choose for yourself what you wanted to be. You usually did what your family did, or you went and worked in the coal mines. I guess it was safer that way. Everyone was so focused on having enough and providing for their families that there wasn’t really much time to branch out. You did what you had to do.

One day, I was watching this program on television. It was this interview with a young girl, at the Capitol. A lot of the usual stuff, like what it’s like for a girl from one of the Districts to visit the Capitol, but one question made both her and me go quiet. He asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up. I’ve never seen a twelve-year-old’s eyes go that wide.

I think I was about seven when I saw that, and I never forgot it. I used to wonder, if I could choose to do anything, anything I wanted, what would I choose? No limitations. Anything I wanted. And I knew almost right away, every time I asked myself, that I wanted to make beautiful things. Thing is, beautiful things don’t really sell when most of your District is poor. Most people like that don’t buy anything they don’t need. Then one day I realized, everyone needs food, don’t they? My father’s a baker. So I started decorating cakes. I got pretty good at it, too. At first I thought I might be wasting my time, but then the cakes I decorated started really selling. Mostly for special occasions.

But here, it’s different. Here, there’s no money. There’s no reason to do anything except because we want to. I could paint pictures all day here and no one would mind. Thing is, I don’t think I could if I tried. People here need things, too, things the Malnosso can’t provide. Like cake decorators. You think you don’t need one, and next thing you know, your girlfriend proposes. Or maybe you’re having a baby, or someone’s having a birthday. Maybe those robots are unbeatable, but put one in an apron and give him a spoonful of icing and he’s clueless. Besides, I’d rather be doing someone some good. Everyone should be able to smile sometimes, even prisoners.

So you. You could be anything here. What do you want to do when you grow up?

[A long pause before this last is written.]

By the way, I think I scared some people when I first showed up. I'm sorry about that. I promise I'm an okay guy.

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[Peeta is coming down the stairs after setting up Rue's gift for her to find in her room. As Katniss drifts out of her room, that look on her face, he almost casually diverts to pull her into a quiet hug.]

[It's getting too easy to let him do this. Let him hug her whenever she feels the encroaching despair. Whenever the memories threaten to drown her. She still won't let him into her room at night. A part of her wants to. Wants that thing they had during the tour. During the nights leading up to their entrance into the second arena. Have him hold her in his arms. Keep her safe from her own nightmares.

But she's still so used to a Peeta that's only starting to remember what she is to him. A Peeta who had been hijacked, who had said things to her she never thought him capable of saying. It tears at her, those memories. And those memories are what really keeps her from letting him move downstairs.

She hugs him back, briefly, before moving away.] Get any interesting responses>

A few. [A shrug.] Some people find it pretty hard to think about, but...I wasn't asking the question for people who already knew.

[No. He wouldn't, would he? He's asking the question for people like her. People who never really thought much about their future. Never thought about it because there never was supposed to be one.

But he probably knows that, doesn't he? That she's one of those people who find it hard to think about.

And then she realizes, not for the first time, how little she knows about him. That she can't say the same for him, or really anything at all.] Did you want to be a baker?

If I didn't, I wouldn't be one now.

[She nods. It's a better option than a miner. He's lucky, not being born in the Seam. Even if they might not have had the wealth Katniss always imagined the merchants to possess, he didn't have to risk his life. Didn't have to go deep down into the earth every day.

But it still didn't protect him from the Games, did it?

She takes a seat at the table and looks up at him.] You're good at it.

[A slight shrug.] I had to be.

[The minute tension he acquires is barely perceptible, but Katniss would be able to see it.]

[It's not exactly the response she expects. She doesn't expect the tension, either. Did she say something wrong?

Maybe. She remembers that day so clearly. The day in the rain. The bread he had burned and his mother's violent reaction. Maybe she expected him to be a baker like his father. Maybe he never really had a choice.]

Why?

[He hesitates, then tries a weak smile. Smiling helps to deflect when things get uncomfortable.]

My mom's kind of...picky.

[When it's the Games, he can talk until she begs him to stop. But this is a part of his life they do not share, that he does not understand. As much time as he spends being as normal a boy as possible, under the circumstances, it feels unnatural to admit that things were never normal.]

[She knows. She saw. Peeta's mother might not have checked out on him the way hers had, but that didn't necessarily make her a very good mother.

What kind of woman would slap her son for burning bread?]

You had brothers, didn't you? That could've taken over?

Yeah, well. We were all helping. If we made a mistake, she could be pretty strict.

[The smile is gone. If he talks too much about this, she might figure out how purposefully that bread was burnt, and what he risked for it.]

Edited 2012-06-04 02:12 (UTC)

[She should drop the conversation now. Steer it away before it gets any deeper. But would Peeta ever talk to her like this again? After the hijacking, after he learned to hate her?

It was then that she had realized just how much she valued his good opinion. Needed. And the words blurt out before she can stop them.] What about your dad? Did he want you to be a baker, too?

[A shrug, but he relaxes a little.] Did your dad want you to be a hunter?

I liked it. Better than Prim did, anyway.

[She gives her own shrug. What was there really for her? Back before the 74th annual Hunger Games? Back before everything changed? She would've wound up in the mines, just like the rest of the Seam. There was no future in that.]

Right. But what I'm saying is, he gave you what he knew so you wouldn't starve.

[She looks up, brows knitted in mild confusion and mild annoyance. It's not exactly the response she expected. Does he have any idea how close she came to starving anyway? After her father died and her mother shut down? Even with those skills passed down, she hadn't known what to do with them. Had forgotten about them.

It wasn't until a boy burnt some bread, wasn't until she saw that dandelion in the spring, that she even considered it possible. The same color as the wings she can't help but look towards now. Peeta Mellark's generosity had kept her from starving more than anything else.]

So did yours.

That's what I'm saying.

[At least, he thinks she's saying what he's saying.]

It didn't have anything to do with either of us wanting it. He wanted me to be okay, I guess. So he taught me what he knows.

[His father, the baker, never seemed like such a bad guy. Not like Peeta's mother, anyway. And maybe he's right. Maybe all their parents wanted was for them to be okay. To survive in the world they had the unfortunate luck of being born into. But that world, the world of the Hunger Games, was one no child should've been born into.

She shakes her head.] If they wanted us to be okay, they shouldn't have had us. None of what they taught us would've prevented the reaping.

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