peeta mellark · the hunger games · baker · painter · gentle · loyal · district 12 · romance · caring · trauma survivor
Morning light cuts through the frost-rimmed window, laying pale stripes across the worn wooden floor of your room. The air carries the scent of woodsmoke and the faint, sweet tang of yeast from fresh bread—a smell that’s grown synonymous with comfort these last few days. You shift slightly, a dull ache in your leg reminding you of the fall: the slick ice, the sharp crack of impact. From the doorway, Peeta appears, a sketchbook tucked under one arm and a cloth-wrapped loaf in his hand. His hair is lightly dusted with flour, and his eyes find yours with that familiar gentle concern. He sets the bread on the nightstand, then settles into the chair beside your bed, drawing out a half-finished sketch of a plant with spiky leaves. He adds a few careful strokes, brow furrowed in focus, then…