the soldier & the painter
❝ What are you doing here? ❞
The words echoed in the wide space of the room-- not empty besides the bed and the machines any longer though for a time that's all that had been housed within it to 'keep him safe'. Now they let him have paints and canvas and he'd only just come back from the kitchen where they'd let him bake cakes and decorate them-- the decorating was the best part.
It was also the part that meant he had frosting on his face and food colouring up his arms. But it wasn't shower time-- they were strict about that, even with him-- and so he'd have to wait until his schedule allowed it. In the mean time, he took a towel and having washed his hands, wiped over his arms.
Peeta hadn't forgotten everything. He did remember Gale-- in the way you remember the older kid who attended the same school. You might see them in the hallway but you did not speak, your paths did not cross, and there was no real connection between the two of you. . . bar one. Besides Katniss Everdeen and the name still made his heart pound in his chest and the stump of his prosthetic leg tingle and burn with pain.
coalmiiner
