Disclaimer:- Is there anyone out there really that naïve to believe me when I say I own 'The Hunger Games Trilogy' ?
The thought failed to cease to exist. His 'ill fate'. A fate that everyone seemed to be jealous of. Right now as well as back then.
Only if they knew, he thought.
During his entire adolescence, he was living a life that every teenage boy desired. Having the liberty, the guts to go out into forest for a snare run. Nights ending with a visit to slag heap. The extraordinary honor of being in presence of the ever unattainable Katniss Everdeen. And to top it all off, the possession of the so-called power, 'The Hawthorne Charm'.
It was some kind of a witchcraft, an art, as people would say. The way his cocky smirk alone could ensnare a girl just as effectively as his real life snare would, with extreme ease. As if he compelled the prey itself to walk into his snare.
It was more than experience. It was a natural gift. A gift that came with being a Hawthorne.
Even little Rory seemed to be growing with that particular trait in him. At the very age of twelve, he was surrounded by twice as many girls as the guys his age would be. Without much of an effort, both the Hawthorne boys had strings of girls behind them, a trait they inherited from their father, as Hazelle would like to put it. But who was she to blame them. She herself was no less. Getting caught up so deeply in a snare that Mr Hawthorne seemed to have set-up himself.
Current times were no less. Eyes full of desire and lust would stare him down, as he made his way anywhere in District 2. Being projected as the Mockingjay's cousin and a significant war hero didn't seem to help as much. Everyday or the other, a girl or two would end up asking him out for a drink. He reckoned times like these in his teenage days. The only difference being that now he had a reason to deny.
A 'beautiful, lovely, as radiant as a sun' reason to deny for.
He liked to say he was taken for. By the amount of days they spent together, he definitely classified it as a relationship. Days spent in the meadows, talking about his feelings. HIS! That girl could make him do anything! It was as if he was far from the Gale he would like people to know, when he was with her. He was the Gale he really was as he would end up spilling out every single thought that rode his mind. And without even saying useless stuff and acknowledging a lie — like 'its alright' or 'its all going to be okay' when both knew neither was sure of what to come — she would hold his hand and squeeze as if to tell him, 'I'm with you'.
It was some kind of a sick joke to him. The very notion made him laugh that people were jealous because he had the Hawthorne charm. A sadistic laugh.
It highly enamored him that people can be such dumb-ass at times as a certain fact escaped them as they naïvely go on envying him. That very certain but deathly fact never escaped his mind though.
A smile creeped onto his face. People envy me for my Hawthorne charm. What an irony.
He hated himself for having it for that matter. Little did they know that the cost he had to pay, his dad and Rory had to pay for possessing a power so out of humanly reach was so high that it ended up killing his dad all the same. What the Hawthorne men knew and others didn't was that the Hawthorne Charm came with the Hawthorne Curse. The very curse, that killed his dad separating him from his mom. The very curse, that killed his Madge during the bombings of District 12 regardless of how hard he tried to save her. The very curse, that killed Prim, leaving Rory forever alone.
He knew that no such thing as a curse existed. But he couldn't deny that the fate his dad had to suffer squarely landed on him and Rory as well. Not that he blamed his dad for that.
There's only one party to blame: Capitol
Oh how much he hated the past enemies even now. How couldn't he? After they inflicted a life long damage in his life, who was he to forget his ever-growing grudge against the Capitol?
All he could think was, they killed her. THEY KILLED HER!
The liquor burned down his throat as he emptied the third bottle for that night.
It hurt but not as much as he was hurting on the inside.
Dammit, it was not enough. It was never enough!
"Hey buddy," a gruff male voice spoke up.
"Buddy yourself Hues," he was so not in the mood for idle chit-chat. Hues was a nice guy, had the habit of loosening the tense atmosphere that always seemed to lurk around Gale. But right now that wasn't even the last thing on his mind.
"You should stop. Seriously. It's not going to help you or the authority. Though we ourselves are the authority," he replied with an all-knowing smirk. Gale and Hues had been in the army ever since the rebellion began. They were close friends. As close as Gale could let him anyways.
"Just leave me alone," Gale said tipping the fourth bottle.
Sighing loudly, Hues rolled his eyes. He knew better than to intervene in Gale's drinking when he is angry, which is usual. But today, he was pissed.
"Anyways, the red-head girl — seven'o clock — has been staring at you for the last ten minutes."
"As if I give a damn about it," he slurred. Yup, Gale Hawthorne was now officially drunk.
"I hate you, man. I hate you and your stupid handsome face. I hate you and your stupid status as the war hero. I hate you for stealing every single girl here."
"But most of all, I hate you for you Hawthorne Charm," he elbowed him, smiling up at him cheekily.
To this Gale turned and looked him straight in the eye, with a smile gracing his features. Only that this smile was more from disgust than anything.
"Well well, what a coincidence. I hate me for my Hawthorne Charm too."
A/N:- I wanted to write this for sooooo long. I know, I know. I am too depressing. But what can I do? It happens when you end up falling for Gale as bad as me. It happens when the one you love ends up losing the one he loves. Hmm *sigh* ...story of the cruel, unfair life.
Any questions? complains? criticism? :)