AN/Important:

So, there was some sort of mistake in whatpad, probably due to my weak conection to the Wifi in my room, and the actual correct version of this chapter wasn't published, but instead an uncomplete version of it. Weirdly, I only noticed right now, as I was abut to start writing the next chapter, and I wanted to apolagise you guys for this mess. I really am sorry.

Anywho, this is the actual first chapter, I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Again, I'm sorry for this confusion

***

The blonde boy huffs loudly. Life really seems to love fucking with him. Everytime he thought things were finally going better, there was always something new lurking on a corner, ready to spit on his face.

"Just great!" he mumbles sarcastically to himself, as he inspected his 1995 Corolla's engine. Needless to say, it had died. At least that's what Peeta is almost positively sure of. He, unlike his father and two older brothers, had never been much of a cars enthusiast. Since a young age, he always had preferred to chase the pigs of his grandmother's small penn, eventhough that usually ended up with him getting all muddy and his mother scolding him for leaving the carpet in the living room covered with stains. He sighs, how he wished to be a seven year old chasing pigs at the moment.

While trying his best to ignore the frustration he felt in that moment, Peeta took his phone out of his padded coat's pocket- Peeta hated it, the coat, that is, but it was also the warmest thing he had and, considering he was well on his way to Workington, which was, in his opinion, the coldest motherfuckin place on earth, specially on the dead of winter, like it was that day.

"I don't think I'll make it there in time for supper." Peeta says, as soon as his mother picked up the phone.

"Really? Are you sure? Where are you?"
Peeta rolls his eyes, his mother always had the habit of making more and more questions, without even expecting to get an answer. It annoyed him, because she'd end up asking the same question twice every five minutes, but, in those days, there weren't much things that did not annoy him, specially regarding his disfunctional family.

"Somewhere between nowhere and Hell." he answers bitterly, to which he received a scold from his mother, whom was so religious, Peeta dared to say it bordered on fanatic. Back when him and the rest of his family in Southampton, when things were still normal, she'd force him and his brothers  to dress in their nicest clothes to go to church every Sunday mornings, along with their father who, in spite of what he said, was also being pushed around to put on a tie that matched his socks. "My car broke down."

"Well, when can you get here? Because I just carved the turkey, but the potatoes aren't in the oven yet, and, if you arrive late, I can just save some for you to eat when you get here. Yes, I'll warm some turkey and potatoes up in the microwave. How hungry do you think you'll be?"

"Look, mom, don't worry about that now. It doesn't matter, besides, by the looks of it, I won't even be there before midnight. I'll just get something to eat on the way." Peeta states, trying to get his mother to stop talking for a bit, she had the habit to ramble a little too much. "I'll give you a call when I reach Salterbeck."
Peeta tried not to feel guilty about hanging up the phone on his mother's face. Actually, Peeta tried to do many things these days, but he was mostly unsuccessfull. He tried not to regret every single choice he ever made, as well as not to feel bitter about having to spend that year's Christmas with his mother and her new husband, Seneca, for example. But it was just so fucking hard.

Christmas has never been Peeta's favorite time of the year, in fact, he had never liked the ocasion, even before his parents got divorced, when the holiday was taken seriously and was scheduled by the minute. The first few years after his mother left, his Christmas was usually spent with his two older brothers and father sitting around a table decored with a single candle with an angel carved on it that his mother left behind, eating McDonald's and, if he's father felt really up to it, he'd make jell'o for dessert. Although the tradition was rather depressive, Peeta never blamed his father for it, he knew he tried his best, but Holidays always took way too much of a toll on him. But, this year, a couple of months before Peeta turned 18, his father decided it was time for a change, and went to some medical center to get rehab, which he was still attending. Meaning, that year there was no Christmas Eve dinner eating burgers and other junk. At first, Peeta was planning to spend his christmas with his new roommate from college, Darius, whose rich family he had renounced, and his girlfriend. But then his brother, Roland, called him, telling him how their mother had invited them to come spend teh festivities with her in her new home in Workington, with her new husband. At first, Peeta wasn't intending on going, but Roland was going, and there was no one Peeta looked up to more than to his older brother, who had pratically raised him from the moment he had turned ten.

Peeta calls for a tow, but it was almost useless, considering he had no idea where he was. The polite woman on the other side of the line told him that it'd take at least for hours for them to be able to get someone to help him. Apparently they were swamped with work, and a lot of cars broke down. Until the moment, things aren't going too well for him. All he wants is a break. And a cigarrete.

 He feels relieved when he finds the small packet still half full, and even more so when he finally manages to light one of those 'cancer sticks', as his third grade teacher used to say.

He usually doesn't have the habit of smoking. Only sometimes, when he is too stressed because of an exam, or when he is on the mood to contradict what his professor, Mr. Heavensbee, says during his class. For short, since he started college, this deadly habit of his got much stronger. But still, Peeta didn't feel he was to blame for it, college was hard, specially if in the field of study he had taken, oncology. It was probably the hardest motherfucking major in the whole country, at least that's what Peeta told himself, and it certainly hadn't been what Peeta was aiming for. Medicine school wasn't for him, and he knew it, but the look of pride his father had when Peeta told him he had been admitted to one of the most prestigious colleges in England, to study something as noble as medicine, was enough for Peeta to just go ahead and give in to his family's will. And it wasn't just that. Roland had wanted to frequent medicine school, in fact, as smart as he was, he was well on his way to do so, but after their mother left them to move in with her parents across the country, and his father fell in a deep sorrow because of that, Roland had to quit highschool, in order to take care of Peeta and their other brother, Max. Needless to say, Peeta looked up to him more than anyone else in the world. But still, it wasn't enough to make him feel content with his choice, in fact, what he had dreamed of studying when he went to college was literature, he always had a certain passion for writing, and he hoped to be able to publish his own book someday. Besides, he was too dumb to be studying oncology.

Soon enough his second cigarrete was out, and he was about to light a third one, but he stopped himself, two were more than enough for the day. The sun is already settling down for the day, disappearing over the horizon, or at least Peeta guesses, since it's too goddam cloudy to actually see the sun. It's cold too. Peeta thinks that, if he doesn't come up with something to get him out of wherever he is, he's going to freeze to death. He decides it's worth the shot to try again to bring the engine back to life.

It's in moments like this he wishes he had paid better attention to his father telling him stuff about cars. For years now, Peeta didn't depend on his father, nor did he need him for much, and he hated to admit that, right now, he wouold cme in handy, considering he had worked so many years of his life in garage, fixing cars, and more often than not, boats as well, which was sort of expected, considering Southampton was one of the most important port cities in the south of England.

Peeta's quietly lamenting his luck when a car stops and honks loudly, making him jump in surprise.

"Everything good 'round here?" A feminin, yet commanding voice asks him over the sound of loud music blasting from her car's radio. He turns around. The girl behind the wheel looks at him curiously, puffing out hoops of smoke from her lips. A bronze haired guy peeks at Peeta from behind the girl.

"My engine's dead." Peeta states, hoping his voice can be heard over the music.

The girl turns off the radio, and takes her eyes from Peeta's car, to his face. There's a certain defying aura about her that makes Peeta nervous.

"Where'u heading?" she asks.

"Workington."

"That's far as shit. If you want we can give you a ride to Coalville. There's a tow-to there,  and it's only a couple miles from here, besides, we're heading there either way." she tells him.

Peeta considers her offer, taking in the look of the girl. Pale face, short dark hair framing her diamond shaped face, chocolate brown eyes with the form of almonds. She looks high, and not even in the slighest truthsworthy, but he decides to just take up on her offer. There isn't much else he can do. The girl unlocks the car doors and Peeta comes in, fussing through a pile of empty cans, old news papers and dirty napkins, before taking his place in the backseat of the car. As soon as he comes in he is invaded by the smell of cheep perfume and smoke.

"Sorry 'bout the mess in there, I don't have the tendecy to clean the car." the girl says, whilst starting the car. Peeta realises that, even without her having to tell him, just by looking at the state of the car. There's even a used condom on the ground. "I'm Johanna, by the way. And this is Finnick."

The guy beside Johanna seems to wake up from his reverie with the sound of his name. He turns around, and nods towards Peeta. "Pleasure." he states, and now that Peeta finally heard him talking, it's impossible for him not to notice the strong accent he has. Silently, Finnick offers Peeta a him, which Peeta declines, stating he just had two recently.

"Two? I normally have six a day." Johanna adds loudly.

"Well, that must come off quite expensive." Peeta states.

The girl shruggs "I manage."

"Yes, for ten bucks she can give you a blow job." Finnick pipes up.

Johanna rolls her eyes at Finnick's statement, and Peeta starts to feel awkward again. "Where're you from?"

"Southampton."

"Southampton, huh? Do you own a boat?" Finnick asks.

Peeta merely shruggs. Not all those many people in Southampton had boats, actual boats. At least not people Peeta knew. But his father, working in a garage as a mechanic, had fixed his share of boats and a few years back, he had made a bet with his fellow friend and boss, Cray, when a small fishing boat with a motor in terrible conditions was brought to the garage. If his father could fix it, he'd be able to keep it, if he couldn't, he'd have to work more three hours a day for the duration of a month. Although unexpected, Peeta's father fixed the boat, so he was able to keep it. Peeta remembers it clearly, he must have been twelve at the time, his father coming home, wearing a triumphant grin, an expression that hadn't crossed his face since he had gotten divorced, and taking Peeta out to buy paint so that they could paint the boat together. It was one of the few memories Peeta looked at to with longing during his childhood years. Thinking well about it, Peeta understands that it was around that time that his father started coming back to himself, the person he used to be back when he was married, before he had started drinking and neglecting his sons. Needlessly, the boat wasn't in great shape, and it was only used a couple of times, there was no time for sailing around, there was work needing to be done, classes needed to be attended, responsabilities that needed to be taken care of, besides, one of the few times the boat was used, Peeta fell off it and almost drowned.

"Yeah, we have this small crappy boat my dad won in a bet, 'Little Turd'." Peeta answered. 'Little Turd' wasn't the actual name of the boat, in fact, Peeta didn't think it had any, it was just how Peeta always called it, from the moment he fell off deck.

"Like the name, love the concept." Johanna comments loudly.

"So, what brings you to Workington? Isn't that literally in God's ass?" Finnick asks.

"Spending the Holidays with my mother's side of the family."

"Hate Holidays season, my bloody father always thinks that he should give me a call, although we barely ever talk. Who the fuck decided christmas was made to be spent with family? Here's what I say to that, thank you very much, but please fuck off, I spend my christmas as I wish, and I intend on spending it with a bottle of white liquor." Johanna says. She talks loudly, swears a lot, and scares the shit out of Peeta. Meaning, he likes her, which is unusual. Peeta rarely likes people at first, it takes him time to warm up to them, and it annoys him when he can't find a good reason to hate them. People who are to nice, or apparently not even in the slighest messed up, don't sound too genuine to Peeta. Everyone's messed up, why they try to hide it, Peeta doesn't understand, and he doesn't like people who do it.

"Daddy issues are Johanna's favorite subject, just so you know." Finnick informs Peeta loudly. "So she usually just spend Christmas in a lonely depressing pub getting drunk."

"Sounds like a solid plan." Peeta states.

"It is." Johanna pipes up, nodding her head, and Peeta understands she's being sincere abou it. "It really is."

And with that, the conversation ends. Johanna turns on the car radio, a song from this hardcore punk band blasting loudly. Peeta rests his head against the car's window. He's extremely tired, driving all day, after a very long week of exams and studying. Truthfully, he can't see the end of it, his future looks so unclear from his point of view, he can't seem to find a silver lining anywhere. How he wished he could be a child again, to never grow up, or have to worry about what is reserved for him in the future. He's completely lost.

"So, we're arriving Coalville, we'll take you to the tow-to, but first we need to pick up a friend of ours." Johanna tells Peeta after a while of riding.

"That's fine by me." Peeta answers shrugging. At this point of the day, he doesn't really care anymore about what he's going to do next. In fact, the longer it takes him to arrive his mother's house, the better it'll be for him.

Soon enough, the car is stopping in front of this aged block of flats. Even in the dark, Peeta can see the dirty white paint of the building cracking, aswell as multiple stains most likely caused by the humidity and bad maintainance. It looks like a depressive place, and Peeta can barely believe the place looks as bad, or maybe even worse, than the dorms of his college. In the darkness, he can see a silhouette coming out from inside the building, and striding across the street with hurry, lean legs shuffling in rush to reach the car, as the person tighens their leather jacket closer to their body. It must be really cold outside.

Johanna unlocks the car's door as the silhouette approaches, and Finnick rolls down the car's window, and waves enthusiastically.

"Goodnight! How's our coal eyed princess doing today?" he asks, just as the girl opens the car door, and plops down beside Peeta. She looks up at him.

And then, he sees her.

AN:

Hey guys!

Hope you liked the first chapter of this fic. This idea has been bugging me for a while now, and it feels great to put it on writting and sharing it with you guys. This will be a short story, meaning, it will only have a couple of chapters, around three or four. It's not settled yet. Been working on this chapter for a while, and I'm quite satisfied with the result. Next chapter coming up probably in a couple of days or so, I'll try not to take too long. The good news are, school will be ending this week, so now I'll have more time to write.

Well, that is all. Thank you for reading the story, and don't forget to give me feedback!

Bye!

~Claire