Hey, Juliet

I just want you to know, I wanna be your Romeo.

Madge was a naturally graceful person, and whatever clumsy tendencies she might have possessed otherwise were wiped out with years of ballet and gymnastic lessons. It was a god send, really, because she was awkward enough without clumsiness being thrown in there. She was quiet, and despite being a politician's daughter, never cared for small talk and didn't know how to fake it. She had a few friends in school, but wasn't as wildly popular as either of her parents would've hoped. Whatever. Her grades were stellar, and that's all she really cared about, anyway.

She liked ballet, she really did; although it was something her pageant queen mother had forced her into at the tender age of four, Madge grew to like the escape that it provided, the mind numbing repetition of exercises and the sense of accomplishment when it all came to fruition at performances and exhibitions. At this moment, though, she wondered why she had ever decided to take ballet lessons in the first place. It was an unusually hot, muggy, humid fall, and the studio was miserable, even though all of the doors and windows were open. They were practicing for their winter recital, and Madge just wanted to go home and take a cold shower– hell, sleeping in the shower sounded good right about now.

Even Panem Ballet's golden boy Gale Hawthorne was looking irritable and hot, his swarthy skin unnaturally flushed. Madge couldn't help but scowl, too, just looking at him. He was a pain in the ass– one of the few straight men at PB, who was both good at dancing and good looking, and normally that wouldn't be such a bad thing, but it was Gale Hawthorne, her old childhood friend and current nemesis.

He had been sweet when they were children, and kind to her, but as they grew older he grew out of his friendship with Madge and started hooking up with the prima ballerina wannabes– Glimmer, Clove, and the like. Which was fine, he could do what he wanted, but it had inflated his ego to the point where Madge had no regrets when it came to the fact that they were no longer friends. He was, essentially, The Worst.

The winter recital was a series of tableaus, and Gale, Thom, Peeta, Finnick, Marvel, and Thresh were in all of them, as the only senior males (and really, they made up about 80 percent of the males in the entire pre-K through 12 ballet school, anyway,) with each senior girl– there weren't that many, either– getting a lead role.

Of course Madge's tableau had to have been practiced at the hottest time of the day, and she could've done just fine not having a lead part, thank you very much, but Madame Effie, the head of Panem Ballet, insisted.

The tableau: Romeo and Juliet. Madge was Juliet, and Gale, of course, was Romeo. Ugh. Where was that dagger, again?

"You look like wilted flowers, not budding blossoms blooming with love!" Effie said, fluttering around them, making big gestures with her hands, pantomiming the blooming of a flower.

Gale offered Effie a tired, charming smile. "Sorry, Madame," he said, "it's a bit warm in here."

Madge darted off in those few precious seconds to chug water in the corner and then came back, wiping off the droplets around her mouth with her hand. Gale's gaze flickered to her and Madge straightened, sighing.

"Sorry, Madame," she said, "perhaps we could take a break? Or maybe– turn the air conditioning on?" Even as she said the words she knew it was nothing but a dream.

Panem Ballet was notoriously cheap, and even though they had central air they refused to use it, claiming that it was too expensive to cool all three large studio rooms that they had in the building. It was unspoken knowledge amongst the students that they only turned it on if someone fainted from heat exhaustion; Madge thought it was a goddamn miracle that they hadn't gotten sued yet. Kids liked to draw straws to see who would "take one for the team" and feint a faint, but thus far she had never heard of anyone actually doing it. All fainting was legit, sadly.

Effie frowned and as she opened her mouth Gale tried a different tactic, "Or maybe we could practice this later? When it's not so hot out?"

This, more than anything, flustered Effie. "Oh, no!" She said. "It's a big, big day today! Yes, very busy. Everyone's tableau's are being practiced back to back to back, as you well know, Mr. Hawthorne, considering this is your last one."

Gale nodded, but Madge glanced over at him, feeling a small, sharp prickle of worry. "How long have you been here?" She asked him lowly, as Effie fluttered off to go instruct some of the younger, background dancers.

"Since 9 am," Gale said shortly, and Madge's gaze darted up to the clock above the mirrors. It was shortly after 3 pm.

"Have you eaten?" She couldn't help but ask. "Are you staying hydrated?"

Gale scowled, pushing his hair back. "I'm fine" he snapped at her and she couldn't help but blink in surprise, and step back from him in hurt. "I don't need you to baby me."

She didn't say anything, just nodded at him and took her place as Effie called them to practice again from the top.

Madge pushed the heat– and Gale Shitbag Hawthorne– out of her mind and concentrated on her movements, and things were going well for a while, but on their fourth go around, she managed to lift her eyes from Gale's collarbone where they had resolutely been for the past half-hour and to his face.

He was sweating profusely, his skin flushed, his eyes tight. She saw now that his movements were sloppy, and he seemed out of breath coming out of a turn.

Now she couldn't look away, and she saw it happen before anyone else, his grey eyes rolling into the back of his head. She stopped mid pirouette and dashed toward him, catching him as he fell; she too fell, her knees buckling, and she landed hard on them under his dead weight.

Effie gasped, yelling at the wailing younger girls to go turn on the central air, to go find a clean towel and wet it under cold water in the bathroom, and Madge didn't know what to do, but she adjusted him, lifted the tank top and ripped it off of him (she heard gasps in the background, and she swore to God if those girls were just reacting to his abs, she's going to hang them by their ballet shoes–) and then started to dab at his face and hairline until the towel was brought to her.

Effie fluttered and hovered but didn't interfere and Madge focused; her mother might have been a beauty queen politician but her aunt was a medic, and she's taught Madge a thing or two over the years. Gale came to fifteen minutes later, once the central air fully kicked in (Madge was going to look into lawyering up, this was fucking ridiculous, quite frankly–)

Gale gasped. "Madge?" The titters of the girls and Effie, in relief, and then glee as they texted all the other girls who weren't there the dramatic story.

"Hey," she said, feeling awkward. He was sprawled out on the ground, his head pillowed on her legs. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened?"

"You fainted…straight into my arms." And then, at a poor, pathetic attempt to be flippant and not making it a bigger deal than it was, she found herself saying, "You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes."

Gale gaped at her. "Excuse me?"

"Uhhhh…" too late, Madge realized what she had done. Oh god, her awkward attempts at making light of things turned into an awkward attempt at flirting. She gently lifted his head from her lap and onto a folded sweatshirt someone had found in the depths of their bag. "Never mind. Um, I'm glad you're feeling better." And then Effie descended upon him, declaring that practice was done for the day and he could go home, and not to come back for a few days, the poor dear (Madge snorted; Effie could cover her ass like no one else.)

Madge high-tailed it out of there, ignored her mother's calls for dinner, promptly took a long, cold, delicious shower, and fell asleep for a solid twelve hours.

To her surprise, when Madge woke up the next day it was to two missed calls and five texts, all from Gale Hawthorne. (Yes, they had each other's numbers. She had everyone from PB's number in her phone, just in case. You never know when genius would strike Effie and she would want an impromptu practice.)

"What the fuck?" She muttered, looking at her phone with one hand while brushing her hair with the other. She winced at another tangle.

Text: Gale Hawthorne, 6:28 pm Hey you home?

Text: Gale Hawthorne, 6:29 pm Just wanted to say thank you for today

Text: Gale Hawthorne, 7:16 pm I'm sorry I was such a jerk

Missed Call: Gale Hawthorne, 7:53 pm

Text: Gale Hawthorne, 7:57 pm Hey call me back when you get this

Missed Call: Gale Hawthorne, 9:17 pm

Text: Gale Hawthorne, 9:32 pm I don't know if you're asleep or mad at me but if you could call me back that would be great

Madge groaned and looked at her clock. It was barely six in the morning, so she doubted he would be up, but she thought she should text him back, anyway, in case she forgot later (ha! good one.)

Text: Madge Undersee, 6:04 am I've been sleeping since 6pm yesterday and saw your messages. I'm not mad at you. Call me later and I'll pick up.

To her surprise, he called not an hour later. "Madge?"

"Hey," she said. "What are you doing up?"

She didn't know why, but she knew he was grinning. "Went on a run."

"Gale!"

"I'm fine, Madge," and his voice was so much gentler than the day before. "Promise. I went to the doctor and got checked out and everything. I hydrated and slept a lot last night and feel a lot better."

Madge frowned; she was sure that he was supposed to rest for a lot longer than just one night. "I hope you didn't run far."

"Nah, just a couple miles. Listen, have you eaten yet?"

"What?"

"Have you eaten breakfast yet? We could, um, go grab something."

"Um," Madge looked in the mirror. Well, her hair was clean and brushed, and what the hell, Gale had already seen her a gross, sweaty mess, so why not. (And no, she is not going to even begin to analyze why in the hell she's agreeing to go to breakfast with Gale Shitbag Hawthorne.) "Yeah, that sounds good. Um. Where did you–?"

"Sae's Diner? I can, uh, pick you up? Does half an hour sound okay? Is that too long? I just need to shower–"

Even better! She had enough time to look like a decent, living human being. "Perfect! Do you…"

"Yeah, I remember where your house is," he said, and Madge smiled. It was like nothing had changed, in a weird way, even though they hadn't been friends since freshman year of high school. "I'll see you soon."

After they hung up, it was a mad dash around her room for her hair products, curling iron, and make up. Waves needed to be touched up and set, concealer and mascara needed to be applied, the perfect light but casual sundress needed to be found.

Twenty-eight minutes later, Madge sat on her front step reading Jane Eyre (she didn't want to wake her parents up and deal with their incessant questions,)when Gale's old truck came up her driveway.

It was a little weird at first, both of them freshly showered and clean, bright eyed and nervous as they looked at each other. It almost felt like a date, but Madge brushed that off immediately. This was… a peace offering. All they were going to do was talk about the day before, and depart not as friends, no, that would be ridiculous, but maybe they wouldn't hate each other like they did before.

"You look nice," Gale said, glancing over at her as they sat at a red right. "Pretty dress."

Oh, no, she was flushing, oh god, oh god oh god, what did she say? "You smell nice," she blurted out.

If only she was actually Juliet, she could actually just stab herself, right there in the car.

Gale's lips quirked. "Thanks," he said. "I hope so. I showered long enough so that I would."

Do not think about Gale Hawthorne in the shower, Madge told herself sternly as they pulled into Sae's parking lot.

Too late.

Breakfast was nice, really. They didn't talk a lot, as they ate, just small talk, really, about their classes and what crazy things Effie said to them, and such.

Madge laughed. "I heard Glimmer wasn't very happy that I got the Romeo and Juliet tableau. She wanted it, apparently, did you hear that? It's funny because I thought her role was cooler; she and Marvel get to be Wendy and Peter Pan."

Gale blinked. "Oh," he said. "I didn't know… I didn't know you didn't want to be in Romeo and Juliet. Or that you wanted something else more."

Madge shrugged. "It's fine; how could you have known? Madame was the one who assigned the parts. I mean–" she looked up in horror at the implications. "Not that I mind working with you, I don't! (Lies, she totally did in the beginning. Not now, obviously–) I just…" Could she melt into the plastic seats? She wanted to.

Gale cleared his throat awkwardly. "I uh, Madame assigned the guys to their tableau's but, she… let us pick our partner. She didn't assign you to Juliet; I did."

Madge gaped at him. "Wait a minute, you wanted to dance with me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah? I mean– yes. Of course I did."

"Of course?"

"I–" Gale looked away, out the diner windows. "Yeah. I mean, you're one of the best dancers, and you–"

It dawned on Madge, then. "You slept with every other senior girl and I was the least awkward option?"

"Wow," Gale's jaw clenched. "You have a real high opinion of me, don't you?"

Madge rolled her eyes. "Uh, I really don't care about your sexual habits, as long as you're, you know,safe, but come on, Gale, you were the one who peace'd out of our friendship freshman year to get with those girls. Is it really such a stretch for me to jump to that conclusion?"

Gale swallowed. "No, I guess not," he said quietly. "Look, Madge, I've been an idiot. I should never have done that to you, and I've regretted it for a while now. I know I've been such an idiot and a jerk to you, and I'm so sorry. I don't have any excuses; I've been an asshole and have been mad at myself and have been taking it out on you. I guess I wanted you to be my partner because I missed you and was hoping we could become friends again through it."

"Oh." Madge blinked, and she didn't know what she was feeling– part of her was so happy; this was the stuff 10th grade fantasies were made upon, Gale Hawthorne coming groveling back for her friendship, seeing finally that she was an awesome, real friend, that she understood him like those other girls never would (or they never wanted to know him beyond the bedroom,) and–

Well, the fact that she was starting to sound like a Taylor Swift album was part of the reason why the other part of her felt disappointed. Because 10th grade Madge's fantasies didn't just consist of Gale Hawthorne confessing his regrets to her; it was him confessing romantic feelings for her, too.

But that was never going to happen, Madge told herself sternly, even as she smiled at him and forgave him. "You've been a complete shit bag these past three years," she told him bluntly, "and that's hurt me a lot. I definitely want to be friends again, but– it might take some time before we're back to where we once were. Okay?"

Gale smiled. "Yeah, okay. I promise I'm going to win back your trust and be a better friend to you."

He was so earnest that Madge couldn't help but smile. "I look forward to it," she said, and she really did.

It was cold as hell; winter was back, and Madge suddenly longed for that hot summer air, but just as quickly dismissed it. It just wouldn't be Christmas without the cold.

In the wings of the theatre, she looked across the stage as Glimmer and Marvel finished their scene as Wendy and Peter Pan. Gale stood across from her, grinning, and Madge grinned back. They had been friends for about three months now, and their friendship was as strong as ever. Gale made good on his word to be a better friend to her, and Madge was, to her disgust, more in love with him than ever. It was incredibly inconvenience. Nevertheless, that was one thing she could hide well, and she figured she'd get over it in time. Whatever. It's not like seeing him grin at her like that made her heart beat faster, or anything. It was just nerves; totally.

They did their set flawlessly; if Madge was inclined to arrogance, which she totally wasn't (that was all Gale,) they were the best couple of the night, but judging by the (very objective) applause, it seemed like everyone else agreed.

Their families met them in the lobby with a plethora of flowers and pictures, and Madge expected to go home with her family as usual, but as they were backstage gathering their things and taking off make-up and changing, Gale found her and said, "Hey. Wanna go grab ice cream or something?"

Madge blinked. It was late and cold, but hell, could she ever say no to him? "It's freezing," she said. "Hot chocolate instead?"

"Are there any cafes even open?"

"Uh, that's what McDonald's is for, Gale."

"Of course," he grinned at her. "See you outside in a few?"

"Sure," Madge said, distracted, already texting her parents to tell them not to wait up.

She didn't think anything of their outing; they'd done it dozens of times before after practice, but she caught on that something was different when Gale pulled into her driveway, and his fingers were tapping on the steering wheel. He only did that when he was nervous about something.

"Hey," she laid her hand on his on the steering wheel and could feel his fingers clench underneath hers. "What's up?" It was too early to hear back from colleges; they had only just started to submit their applications, even. As far she knew his grades were good, things were good with all their friends, and since he hadn't been dating anyone (as far as she knew,) things were okay there…

"I, uh," Gale said, "I have to tell you something and I don't know how."

Madge frowned. "Okay," she said. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

This made Gale relax a little. "Right," he said. "Because we're friends again."

She tilted her head and stared at him; bemused. "That's right," she said slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

"Good friends."

"Uh-huh."

"One might say, better friends than we once were."

"Um, yeah, actually, I guess I would say that."

"Okay. But what if I told you I wanted to be better friends than that?"

Madge blinked. "I don't understand."

"Okay, that was a really bad way of putting it," Gale's hands clenched the wheel and he wouldn't look at her. "What if I told you I wanted to be… more than friends?"

Madge licked her lips. "More than friends."

"Yeah."

"Like… dating?"

"Sure."

"Like… boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Um, ideally, yes."

"Committed. Exclusive. You and me."

"That uh, that is what I had in mind."

"You, Gale Hawthorne, are madly in love with me, Madge Undersee."

That got him to look at her, finally, and he looked at her, unsure if he should be offended or not. "Are you laughing at me?" He asked.

Madge shook her head. "Just answer the question."

"That wasn't a question."

"Then confirm the statement."

Gale looked away, sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. "Fine! I, Gale Hawthorne, am madly in love with you, Madge Undersee. Are you happy now?"

"Yes," Madge said, instantly, so surely, that Gale whipped his head around and was greeted with her beaming smile, so bright in the winter darkness. "I am very happy."

Gale grinned. "So does that mean…?"

"That I feel the same way? Yes."

"Really?"

"Yeah. For a while now. You?"

"Marginally longer than Romeo loved Juliet."

"Gale!"

"Okay, fine. Months. At least a year."

Madge gaped at him. "You never said anything!"

"How could I? You hated me. I fucked things up, and I didn't know how to make it right."

He looked so miserable thinking about it, and Madge put her hand on his cheek. "But you did," she said, "and here we are. I love you, too."

Gale cupped her face and leaned in. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"Good. I love you, too."

"Shut up and kiss me, Hawthorne."

And he did.