Written for the Starvation Forum's Monthly Oneshot Challenge. This month's prompt: Light.
This is post-Mockingjay, so it will contain some spoilers. If you do not want to be spoiled, STOP READING NOW!
Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins.
Enjoy :)!
It's been so long since I've seen her, and her image is still burned into my brain. I'm worried that it will be there forever, because no matter how many times I hit myself on the side of the head, her face just won't go away. So I ask myself, do I really want it to go away? Of course I don't want to be pining after her until the day I die, but there is a happy medium that can be reached, isn't there? Can't I remember her without loving her?
But when my thoughts turn in that direction, all I can see are his blue eyes, still loving her even after he was brainwashed to hate her. That's what love really is, isn't it? Sometimes I think I hated her even while I was still in love with her. Was. I was in love with her. I'm not anymore. I've moved on. On to more things, better things, worse things. Just, just different things.
But she's always right there, waiting for me.
I live in District 2 now, and so does Johanna Mason. She's a welcome distraction for me while I try to sort through my thoughts of Katniss. It's helpful, having her around.
Because every night, I stare up at the sky, and the silver light of the moon reminds me of her eyes. Whether she was laughing, smiling, scowling, crying, or carefully hiding her true feelings, her eyes were always so alive. Blazing with that silver light, just like the moon.
One night, when I was feeling particularly self-pitying, I expressed these feelings to Johanna.
"So every time you see the moon, you think of her?" She asks me, and I can't see the beauty hidden in her eyes, even though I know it's there, somewhere. I can only think of my beautiful huntress back in District 12.
I nod at her, unable to tear my gaze from the gleaming moon.
Johanna sighs, long and deep, as if it is physically hurting her to be having this conversation with me. I even think I catch a hint of a whimper in her exhalation of breath, but quickly decide I am just imagining that sign of frailty. Johanna Mason doesn't show weakness.
"Just remember, Gale, the moon is only reflecting the light it steals from the sun."
I don't know exactly what she means by this; it is somewhere too far outside my realm of understanding. Not exactly because I can't comprehend it, but because my heart fights against it. Everything I have ever known screams against any insinuation that Katniss isn't beautiful on her own, inside and out. But it still gets me thinking. Whose light would she be stealing? My first thought jumps to Peeta. He is easily comparable to the sun, with his golden-blond hair and sky-blue eyes. He's always happy and smiling and so alive. And the most important detail is that Katniss wouldn't have to steal his light, he would give it to her; freely and without hesitation. Because he loves her.
But that can't possibly be the case. Katniss was shining long before she knew Peeta. Could Johanna mean that she was stealing my light? I can't see how that could be her intention, because I'm not really the lighting type. I'm more of a night sky; incomplete without the moon.
So my thoughts wander away from the sun, and I'm enveloped in darkness once again. Another sleepless night goes by, and when the sun rises, I'm stuck missing the moon.
There are other things to be done around here. I somehow was awarded the title of Commander after the Great Rebellion, and I'm in charge of hundreds of things, some that I don't even really understand what are. I have lackeys and hero-worshipers and colleagues and advisers and, by some unasked for turn of events, a little girl who gets me coffee every morning. In short, my days are full to the brim, and I don't have time to think of Katniss.
When the daylight starts to fade to gray, Johanna comes and drags me away from my job. I don't know how we became friends, but that's what we are. She's always there to remind me that I need sleep. Unfortunately, she can't enforce that sleep.
We sit in the backyard of my little home in District 2, I on a chair and her on the grass, and we gaze up at the moon. I know that she knows what I am thinking, I can tell by the way she huffs out little breaths of air and rolls her eyes whenever I look towards her. Normally, I pretend that she doesn't care about what direction my thoughts travel, but tonight, for some reason or another, it really bothers me.
I huff out my own breath of frustrated air and I rise from the little wooden chair that is my usual seat. I stomp right past Johanna-nearly stepping on her hand, probably by accident-and walk all the way to the edge of my yard, where I can be closer to the moon. Closer to my memories of happiness and sadness and life. Closer to the pain that seems to be eating a hole in my chest.
"Gale, you don't need to be like this," Johanna says, and I can tell that she is standing up, walking towards me. Not looking at me. I can feel it; she's looking at the moon, too.
"I don't have to be like what, Johanna? Just say it." I can feel some sort of emotion welling up deep in my chest, something other than the usual pain and raw ache of missing Katniss, of being reminded of her every single night.
"She's just a reflection, Gale. She's not the real thing. You understand that, don't you?" I allow my eyes to flit towards her, briefly, just to make sure she is being sincere. There isn't a trace of sarcasm in her facial features, and I know that she means what she is saying to me. "That big ball of light up there, that's not her! That's not even a ball of light. It's just a rock that is posing as light. But that's not my point, Gale! My point is that your projection of Katniss isn't the real thing. She's not everything you've ever wanted, she's not the perfect girl, she's not even the girl you're in love with. She's just the girl that used to be your hunting partner, used to be your friend, used to be your love. But you've never been hers." She's breathing hard, because she's worked herself into some sort of emotional frenzy. "You have to move on, things have changed now, Gale! There are other girls out there, girls that can be more than just the moon to you!"
I shake my head a little bit, to clear it. What she's saying, those words strung together in the right syntax, they make sense to me. They are more than just words. It's as if I've suddenly had an epiphany; the Katniss I'm in love with isn't the real Katniss. Maybe she never has been.
Johanna reaches out and grabs my arm, trying to turn me around. But I can't take my eyes away from the moon quite yet. In my head, I make a promise to myself. I will start forgetting about the moon. I know that it will be hard, I'm not going to pretend anything different. But maybe Johanna is right, and there is another girl out there for me.
As soon as I think this, my will slackens, and she manages to yank me around. Her eyes are frenzied and strained, her cheeks are pink with heat, and her short, brown hair is stuck to her forehead in places with sweat. But when I look at her, I actually see her. For once, I can see the real beauty radiating from her. From her eyes, her eyes that carry more light than those gray ones back in District 12 ever did. When she looks at me, she looks at me with a light far stronger than the light of friendship.
Little dots of light start to poke their way into my vision. Some are brighter than others, some are bigger, smaller, or stronger. It takes me a moment to realize what they are, and when I do, everything seems to fall into place.
Stars don't reflect light, they have their own.
Before now, I hadn't realized the one great truth of my life. I had been staring up at the moon so long, I hadn't seen the stars.