In Our Stars || Peeta Mellark x Reader {Act II}

illicit affairs

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude.

I sat by the fireplace, arms and legs wrapped together under the patterned blanket, gazing at the cracking fire. The amber flames reminded me of my time in the arena, the fiery red burning at my feet was the same color as the flames that almost killed me earlier.

My head was lain haphazardly across the striking blue velvet of the couch, a weird and foreign material to meet my skin. My eyes flicker between the growing embers and the kitchen, waiting for the figure to emerge from there and return to my side.

His body slowly enters my peripheral vision, hands holding up a tray of flawlessly decorated cookies, each representing a different flower. 

Marigolds, orchids, carnations, chrysanthemums, all of them.

Even rues.

A light and quiet smile forms on my face, only for him. I hadn't smiled for anyone else since getting out of the Capitol. Even when I stepped off the train and was greeted with so many shining faces, my blank expression remained until it was only Peeta who could see me.

Even when my aunt rushed up to embrace me, nothing changed, the same colorless expression did not waver in the slightest. 

Snapping back into reality, I felt my fingers beneath me trace over the meticulously designed cookie, feeling his eyes on me, watching for a reaction. For anything.

I'd been an emotional wreck after the games, as expected. I woke up each night screaming and crying out for Rue, sobbing and holding my left arm. The attacks didn't stop even after waking up, not until I felt Peeta's arms wrapping around my waist, his hands running through my hair, his face tilted slightly so he could whisper into my ear.

My eyes watered as I looked down at the beautiful artwork, the same style as the paintings that were hung all around my living room. Beside the fireplace hung a mural of a tree that sat close to Peeta's house, the tree I used to prop myself against trying to fall asleep.

"How?", I asked him, awe dripping sweetly from my voice, completely enamoured by him.

But I wasn't just asking him how he managed to make such jaw-dropping, detailed treats, but how he managed to pull himself out of the darkness of the games and extend a hand to me.

"I'll show you. I have another batch ready to come out of the oven right now".

He grabbed my hand and lead me to the kitchen inside of his home. It wasn't a surprise that I would be in his house instead of my own, I always was. In fact, my house in the Victor's Village was predominantly occupied by my aunt, since I gave her a set of keys because she had nowhere else to stay.

I followed him into the room that exuded a rich scent of raspberries and brown sugar, a lovey combination. He grabbed a spare apron that had been hanging from the door of the pantry and gently tied it around my waist, watching my reaction to make sure it wasn't too tight.

As he guided my hands from behind, showing me how to use the piping bags and trace sketches of small flowers, I couldn't help but beam from ear to ear. 

The smell of freshly baked goods mixing with the serene sound from the record player created something that amplified my love for Peeta and made this moment indescribable. It was perfect.

Once it was clear that I was nowhere near as talented as the boy behind me, I gave up. I grabbed his hands and pulled him impossibly closer to me, our chests rising up and down in unison without a particle of matter separating us.

I took his face in my left hand, barely noticing the ugly scars that still remained on my skin, and pulled his lips down to meet mine. 

And we stayed there, dancing around the kitchen with the refrigerator light acting as a spotlight, illuminating our passion.