and the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now
gale & annie
( fixing broken hearts with tears )
disclaimer: not mine.
And I'm dying to know
Is it killing you
Like it's killing me?
I don't know what to say
Since the twist of fate
Cause we're going down.
And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.
-The Story Of Us, Taylor Swift
She wakes when she hears the rustling of fabric. She opens her eyes, blinking the fog of sleep away as she sits up in bed. Her back hurts a lot, and it's hard to sit up straight with her round stomach in the way. She slips her hand under the sheets as she feels the spot next to her. Still warm.
"Gale?"
The shuffling sound ceases. She can hear footsteps as he crosses over to her, presses a kiss to her cheek.
"I have to go."
Her fingers fumble as they blindly fasten around his wrist. She tightens her grip, and she knows if she could see her knuckles they would be white with the strain.
"Don't."
He sighs, sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on her protruding stomach briefly before he snatches it away, shaking it like he's been burned.
"Why do we do this?"
Annie pauses to think.
"I don't know."
The silence is heavy and uncomfortable. It weighs down on their shoulders, pressing harder and harder, an ever-present discomfort. Gale speaks up.
"I do."
"Why?"
He pauses to sort it through his head. He has to word this right. He needs to understand it all. They both need to understand it all.
"We both... we both miss people who aren't here anymore."
"I know Finnick's gone. But what about you? Who do you miss?"
The question is simple, and the answer's even simpler, but Gale finds himself struggling to find the words. Well, word. It sticks in his throat, and his voice cracks in the middle as he says softly:
"Katniss."
"She's not dead."
Gale flinches. He tries to hide it until he remembers that Annie can't see him.
"She might as well be."
The pain in his voice is palpable. Annie envisions his face, gray eyes downcast, eyebrows knit together worriedly, the corners of his mouth tugging down. The image seems so real in her head, it makes her want to cry. She doesn't know what else to do, so she kisses him.
"Why?"
The inquiry is nearly lost against her lips. She breaks away as she scoots to get closer to him, her pregnant stomach an unwanted barrier between them.
"Because you're here and Finnick's not. Because I'm here and Katniss is not."
Her answer is ohsosimple and ohsoconfusing, but most things with Annie are. He doesn't want to try to decipher it, doesn't want to decode her sensible (insane) words, so he just leans forward and kisses her again, kisses the crazy girl from District 4, the woman carrying Finnick Odair's child.
It's only fitting. He doesn't love her. She doesn't love him.
Deep down, he knows Annie's still Finnick's. Probably always will be. And deep down, he's still Katniss'.
Probably always will be.