hunger games fic: they were going round and round but they did not meet
they were going round and round but they did not meet. hunger games. gale/katniss. Gale never once imagined the happiest he'd ever be was at eighteen.
Hearts are fragile things, supposedly.
Gale wakes up in the hospital and the first thing he hears is the weak noise of it, a soft whimpering beep coming through the monitors.
“You’ve been out three days,” they tell him, these strangers in white lab coats with monotone voices.
They say, “You almost didn’t make it.”
Gale’s eyes flutter open and shut; his fingers curl around the edge of the scratchy white sheet. He flexes his fingers once, then twice, and takes a deep breath. Everything is so so white, the walls, the lights, and Gale tries for words.
“Welcome back, kiddo,” Johanna says from a bed over, “a shit ton of people are dead but we won, so there’s that I guess.”
“Where’s Katniss?” he manages, clearing his throat.
Johanna rolls over and her hospital gown crinkles. Gale sees a patch of her skin, mottled black and purple, yellow around the edges.
“Johanna?” he asks again, voice stronger.
“I’m sleeping, jackass,” she murmurs, “don’t wake the dead.”
Gale can’t -
He can’t remember the last time he saw her, saw Katniss, not in detail at least, not in the way he wants to. He wishes he’d been close enough to - well, he doesn’t really know what and isn’t that the problem?
He never knew what to do with his feelings for her, and in the woods it was easy to think that it would just work itself out, that one day she would shoot a buck and turn around and kiss him.
He thought she was worth it, obviously, that Katniss was worth all of it. They were young and it felt like too much to ask, especially of her, Katniss with her braid over her shoulder and calloused fingers.
“I never want to have kids,” she told him and Gale thought, I could but he didn’t allow himself the last two words - the unspoken with you.
He cries for Prim longer than he thought he could.
In the end, he sees her again in Two, at an anniversary party.
She’s wearing gray, a dark gray, the fabric slithering it’s way down her body, her hair piled onto the top of her head in a carefully coiled, braided knot. Peeta’s hand rests on the small of her back and even from across the room he sees her lean into it.
At the end of the night, he looks up from the bar to see her, standing in front of him, eyelashes sweeping up.
It’s funny the way time passes. Fifteen years gone, fifteen years of new people, new girls to learn but he still feels her the most. It took a lot of him to learn her the way he did - countless hours spent crouching in the brush, a good amount of desperation and starvation. It was a miracle, really. He’ll never know any girl like he knows her.
“Gale,” she says, her mouth tight.
Fifteen years, he thinks, and stuffs his hands into his pockets.
He nods once.
“Katniss.”
She startles at that, the line of her shoulders jerking forward. It still feels like he knows her. The bartender says, “Whiskey sour, sir,” and Gale grabs the glass from the top.
“Good to see you,” he says.
Kat nods once and doesn’t say anything.
Hearts are fragile things, supposedly.
Gale wakes up in the hospital and the first thing he hears is the weak noise of it, a soft whimpering beep coming through the monitors.
“You’ve been out three days,” they tell him, these strangers in white lab coats with monotone voices.
They say, “You almost didn’t make it.”
Gale’s eyes flutter open and shut; his fingers curl around the edge of the scratchy white sheet. He flexes his fingers once, then twice, and takes a deep breath. Everything is so so white, the walls, the lights, and Gale tries for words.
“Welcome back, kiddo,” Johanna says from a bed over, “a shit ton of people are dead but we won, so there’s that I guess.”
“Where’s Katniss?” he manages, clearing his throat.
Johanna rolls over and her hospital gown crinkles. Gale sees a patch of her skin, mottled black and purple, yellow around the edges.
“Johanna?” he asks again, voice stronger.
“I’m sleeping, jackass,” she murmurs, “don’t wake the dead.”
Gale can’t -
He can’t remember the last time he saw her, saw Katniss, not in detail at least, not in the way he wants to. He wishes he’d been close enough to - well, he doesn’t really know what and isn’t that the problem?
He never knew what to do with his feelings for her, and in the woods it was easy to think that it would just work itself out, that one day she would shoot a buck and turn around and kiss him.
He thought she was worth it, obviously, that Katniss was worth all of it. They were young and it felt like too much to ask, especially of her, Katniss with her braid over her shoulder and calloused fingers.
“I never want to have kids,” she told him and Gale thought, I could but he didn’t allow himself the last two words - the unspoken with you.
He cries for Prim longer than he thought he could.
In the end, he sees her again in Two, at an anniversary party.
She’s wearing gray, a dark gray, the fabric slithering it’s way down her body, her hair piled onto the top of her head in a carefully coiled, braided knot. Peeta’s hand rests on the small of her back and even from across the room he sees her lean into it.
At the end of the night, he looks up from the bar to see her, standing in front of him, eyelashes sweeping up.
It’s funny the way time passes. Fifteen years gone, fifteen years of new people, new girls to learn but he still feels her the most. It took a lot of him to learn her the way he did - countless hours spent crouching in the brush, a good amount of desperation and starvation. It was a miracle, really. He’ll never know any girl like he knows her.
“Gale,” she says, her mouth tight.
Fifteen years, he thinks, and stuffs his hands into his pockets.
He nods once.
“Katniss.”
She startles at that, the line of her shoulders jerking forward. It still feels like he knows her. The bartender says, “Whiskey sour, sir,” and Gale grabs the glass from the top.
“Good to see you,” he says.
Kat nods once and doesn’t say anything.