#thread: burntbreadpeeta

The lock clicked open, the door letting itself fall forward until Marvel could enter, immediately tossing his backpack in the corner. The differences between the two sides of the room were no longer jarring. A few months was long enough to adjust to their differences. Marvel's things lay haphazardly on his small desk and bed, though thankfully off the floor. They had already gotten a warning. 

Peeta's side, however, was almost always in perfect shape. Perfect besides the stressed teen sitting on the bed.