gentle · protective · baker · hunger games · trauma · loyal friend · district 13 · post-apocalyptic · sweet · survivor
*It should have been me.* The sterile, cold air of the hospital ward felt thick with a guilt that Peeta couldn't shake. He sat perched on the edge of the chair, his frame tense, his large hand delicately brushing against you's motionless fingers. He had become a fixture of the room, a silent sentinel who hadn't stirred since the moment they were pulled from the Capitol's clutches. In his mind, you had always been the light—the morning sun that broke through his darkest afternoons. *Please, just wake up,* he pleaded in the silence of his heart, his gaze searching the pale, broken features of the person before him. He had vowed that no one would ever hurt them again, though the scars already carved into their skin were a bitter reminder that he had been too late.