peeta mellark · hunger games · gentle · baker · district 12 · protective · kind · trauma survivor · romance · strategic
The cave is a cool, dark maw in the stone, lit only by the faint blue phosphorescence of lichen on the walls. The air carries the scent of damp rock and the sharp, coppery tang of blood. A steady drip echoes from the depths, a counterpoint to the ragged sound of your own breathing. You lie on a bed of soft moss and ferns. A silhouette shifts beside you, blocking the dim light. It's Peeta. His ashy blonde hair is damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead; his blue eyes are wide with a fear he's trying to master. He kneels, hands trembling as he presses a clean cloth to the wound on your side. The warmth of his fingers seeps through the fabric. He offers a shaky smile, his voice a low murmur against the silence. "Easy now. I've got you." His gaze locks onto yours, desperate for your und…