don't kiss trainwrecks. don't kiss knives. don't kiss. | hunger games | peeta/gale
title: don't kiss trainwrecks. don't kiss knives. don't kiss.
pairings: peeta/gale, gale/katniss, peeta/katniss
rating: pg-13
summary: gale doesn’t do love. here’s why.
words: 604
beta: girl-on-sunshine
disclaimer: no profit is being made; no copyright infringement is intended. the hunger games belongs to suzanne collins, the title is by daphne gottlieb.
author’s notes: written for this prompt. idek what to say, this is a mess..
Gale doesn’t do love. Here’s why: Katniss’ skin against his is like two suns hovering above the desert. Her grip on his heart is visceral but too tight, and her eyes are darker because of it. Gale strokes his thumbs over her cheeks but in the end the rough pads of his fingers can’t keep her close. She leaves him to die. (There is dried blood between his molars where he bit his tongue too hard. At least he thinks so. I volunteer will forever burn like acid on the roof of his mouth.)
But here’s the thing: Peeta is composed of stardust. His eyes twinkle dimly and his lips are plump and cherry. Gale uses his fingers to feel the ridges of bones where they stretch obscenely beneath his skin and curve again, forming something too soft for his brutal hands. (It’s horrible on all fronts - they both have traces of Katniss running along scarred limbs.)
It takes some time until clenched fists become hands, but Gale sees the way Peeta’s cheeks are drawn in by his big jaw. (He still feels her loss in the spaces between breaths himself, because even though she came back - she never came back to him.)
“You don’t have to love me,” is something he says one night, two hours to dawn. There’s a chip in the paint where Peeta rests his head against the wall. “I don’t love you, either.” But he touches Peeta’s skin when he sleeps, pressing his fingers down where he licked lovebites against each knob that makes his hip; he claws at the stretch of Peeta’s ribs when he flirts with waking up.
(The problem is, Gale doesn’t know how to kill a feeling and he doesn’t know how to fill the spaces where long lost love used to hide.)
(Skin performs the following functions: protection, sensation, absorption.) Gale looks at Peeta’s new layer of skin cells and thinks: you have never touched his body. And Peeta lets him mouth at his collarbones and stomach, the stretch of his ribs and the birthmarks that are stark like bruises. He tilts his head to put his lips on Peeta’s bicep, settling there with his open mouth against him. You will never get to touch this body. Then he stops thinking of her - almost forgets, even. (This isn’t his first mistake, but it’s the biggest.)
Peeta is still asleep and he is terribly beautiful in a way only men and sleeping lions can be, a feverish energy that will sear him to ashes hugging his limbs even in rest. He looks ready to fight. Gale lays his head on the pillow next to him, face soft, and touches his cheek with just the pads of his fingers. Peeta feels like a rough diamond now, and Gale dares to think about writing promises on the tissue of his eyelids. He looks down to kiss the spot where Peeta’s chin protrudes a little bit, especially when he smiles.
Peeta draws his head away and leaves Gale’s mouth behind with a tiny sound. His eyes are too complicated, like syntax in a poem.
“I don’t love you,” he whispers, voice rough and raw, ripping at the soft spot behind Gale’s breastbone. Hands become clenched fists again.
Gale nods, his raspy drawl steady and firm. “I know.” His brows are relaxed, but he feels ancient.
Peeta’s voice is frayed. “I don’t think you do.” (It sounds too much like I’m sorry or Katniss. Gale isn’t sure what’s worse.)
Gale doesn’t do love. Here’s why: sooner or later, they all leave. That’s what people do.
pairings: peeta/gale, gale/katniss, peeta/katniss
rating: pg-13
summary: gale doesn’t do love. here’s why.
words: 604
beta: girl-on-sunshine
disclaimer: no profit is being made; no copyright infringement is intended. the hunger games belongs to suzanne collins, the title is by daphne gottlieb.
author’s notes: written for this prompt. idek what to say, this is a mess..
Gale doesn’t do love. Here’s why: Katniss’ skin against his is like two suns hovering above the desert. Her grip on his heart is visceral but too tight, and her eyes are darker because of it. Gale strokes his thumbs over her cheeks but in the end the rough pads of his fingers can’t keep her close. She leaves him to die. (There is dried blood between his molars where he bit his tongue too hard. At least he thinks so. I volunteer will forever burn like acid on the roof of his mouth.)
But here’s the thing: Peeta is composed of stardust. His eyes twinkle dimly and his lips are plump and cherry. Gale uses his fingers to feel the ridges of bones where they stretch obscenely beneath his skin and curve again, forming something too soft for his brutal hands. (It’s horrible on all fronts - they both have traces of Katniss running along scarred limbs.)
It takes some time until clenched fists become hands, but Gale sees the way Peeta’s cheeks are drawn in by his big jaw. (He still feels her loss in the spaces between breaths himself, because even though she came back - she never came back to him.)
“You don’t have to love me,” is something he says one night, two hours to dawn. There’s a chip in the paint where Peeta rests his head against the wall. “I don’t love you, either.” But he touches Peeta’s skin when he sleeps, pressing his fingers down where he licked lovebites against each knob that makes his hip; he claws at the stretch of Peeta’s ribs when he flirts with waking up.
(The problem is, Gale doesn’t know how to kill a feeling and he doesn’t know how to fill the spaces where long lost love used to hide.)
(Skin performs the following functions: protection, sensation, absorption.) Gale looks at Peeta’s new layer of skin cells and thinks: you have never touched his body. And Peeta lets him mouth at his collarbones and stomach, the stretch of his ribs and the birthmarks that are stark like bruises. He tilts his head to put his lips on Peeta’s bicep, settling there with his open mouth against him. You will never get to touch this body. Then he stops thinking of her - almost forgets, even. (This isn’t his first mistake, but it’s the biggest.)
Peeta is still asleep and he is terribly beautiful in a way only men and sleeping lions can be, a feverish energy that will sear him to ashes hugging his limbs even in rest. He looks ready to fight. Gale lays his head on the pillow next to him, face soft, and touches his cheek with just the pads of his fingers. Peeta feels like a rough diamond now, and Gale dares to think about writing promises on the tissue of his eyelids. He looks down to kiss the spot where Peeta’s chin protrudes a little bit, especially when he smiles.
Peeta draws his head away and leaves Gale’s mouth behind with a tiny sound. His eyes are too complicated, like syntax in a poem.
“I don’t love you,” he whispers, voice rough and raw, ripping at the soft spot behind Gale’s breastbone. Hands become clenched fists again.
Gale nods, his raspy drawl steady and firm. “I know.” His brows are relaxed, but he feels ancient.
Peeta’s voice is frayed. “I don’t think you do.” (It sounds too much like I’m sorry or Katniss. Gale isn’t sure what’s worse.)
Gale doesn’t do love. Here’s why: sooner or later, they all leave. That’s what people do.