Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
Summary: You realize then, as your chest tightens and your palms begin to sweat, that you don't even deserve to miss her. GaleKatniss, post-MJ, oneshot
Hello everyone! Okay, so, I don't know why I am writing another GaleKatniss. I guess inspiration hits at the oddest times. And I just have a massive soft spot for Gale and I just feel so bad for him (for everyone, really) after the third book. I adore PeetaKatniss, don't get me wrong. They're one of my OTPs for this fandom for sure, but Gale is just so fascinating to write about and I just can't help myself. This little thing is also in second person, which I don't do much of. So, yeah. Enough of my rambling, haha. Please enjoy!
Palpitations
It's the first time you've seen her in what seems like forever.
When you think about it, it really has been so very long since you've had the chance to look at her. In fact, if you were to be honest with yourself, you've avoided looking at her since then. Since the fire and the explosions and the screaming and the blood. Not since she lost her mind, sang to herself, blamed you for her sister's death.
But she's still all over the nation's television screens, and avoiding her seems all the more difficult.
It's nothing but an announcement. The Mockingjay's beginning to visit the various districts, trying to bring hope to a country decimated by war. It works. They show people clips of her and Peeta, side-by-side, holding hands. You try not to focus on the haunted look in her eyes - a look that you had a hand in dealing her.
Your small apartment in Two is nothing special. It's furnished with nothing except a bed in one corner and a table in the other. There's a television on a small stand in the center of it all. You rarely turn it on, unable to bear even the most subtle of announcements on the Mockingjay's well-being.
But then, sometimes the curiosity gets the better of you, and this is what results.
She's wearing a soft orange dress - it's not her color, your realize - and she has her hair down around her shoulders in loose waves. The baker stands to her side, hand in hand with her own, and gives her a supportive look every now and then.
The whole nation knows that she is still mourning the loss of her sister, and it feels as if they are waiting on bated breath for her to snap again, dealing a deadly blow to anyone else around her that she deems a threat. Sometimes you feel the urge to snap at anyone that dares to talk about her in such a way, and others...well, you just feel tired. Tired and drained and just spent, when you shouldn't be. Because, really, you got out easy.
Too easy.
Despite that, some days you think this might get simpler. That this hollow feeling in your chest will somehow fill in over time. Some days you believe you got the short end of the stick with everything, and then you remember just how much others have lost - and just how much you have taken - that you scrap that thought altogether.
Sighing as you sink onto the bed and try to face the television without too much strife on your joints, you watch as she talks about the state of Panem as a whole. You watch as she winces, recalling what she has lost. You watch as he comforts her with a kind hand on her shoulder.
You watch as she leans into him, a public display of affection that is not for show, that is not to keep them both alive or garner them more sponsors, but is for them and them alone.
It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
Envy and jealousy have never suited you, you know. Those emotions are for someone not named Gale Hawthorne. So you banish them from your mind, tie them up and leave them where they lay, refuse to look at them.
Sometimes you are successful and other times you are not, but that is the way of the world, and despite everything that you try to do, the one thing remains. It glares at you angrily and constantly taunts you, a phantom on the edges of your mind, always.
You have wronged Katniss Everdeen.
She continues to speak and you find yourself enraptured by it. Her voice, still strong after all she has suffered, strikes a chord within you. Makes you want to reach out to her, to take her hand and apologize. But you know she will not accept it. If she is anything, it is stubborn and loyal - especially to her family, regardless if they are living or dead.
But your chest constricts so tightly it is painful and you cannot divert your attention from the television screen and she looks so familiar it is like being in District 12 again -
And it hits you again. Just like it always does. When you start to long for her so badly it hurts, when it seems to be too much to even stare at her image, the thought barrels into you again.
You realize then, as your chest tightens and your palms begin to sweat, that you don't even deserve to miss her.
The thought is definitely not a new one, but still it is one of the most painful.
You try not to focus on it. You try to do what you always do, force the feelings from you and step away from the screen. It has worked before, but something about now has changed it. You are stuck in one place, frozen, paralyzed.
It is only when her eyes turn to stare directly into the camera - and you think, rather nonsensically, they are staring straight into your soul - that you jolt and rub your hands over your face, blindly searching for the television controls. You label yourself a coward as you take one last look at her - still staring with those Seam gray eyes - and turn off the television with one swift motion.
The silence that envelops you feels like an accusation.
End.