It rained the day after you left, Katniss. Started off in a drizzle when I watched Gale head out towards the hills. I understood how he must have felt. Of course I did. I can honestly say that I felt as though a little bit of myself had been broken and beaten when Peeta's name had been called out. I had always had a liking to that boy. Of course, it was probably nothing like how Gale felt towards you. But I suppose you'd never know how I felt whenever I saw the two of you hiking out into the meadows. Together.
And I think it had been exactly that feeling that had forced me to get dressed and head out in his wake. That indescribable feeling that had grown in the pit of my stomach and bubbled and burst so many times.
I remember that day clearly. It was barely sprinkling when I trotted into the forest, dropping to my knees and hesitating before rolling under the lifeless fence. I had seen the two of you do it so many times beforehand, I had almost mastered the trip. Of course, it had felt so much different to actually follow the trail.
The rain had gotten heavier then. Only slightly, though. I didn't mind. My mind had been set on finding him, though. To talk to him. I think a bit of me was happy that I had the opportunity to speak to him without you being there. When you were with him, wherever it may be, I felt even worse.
He was easy to track. I was surprised that he had been. Maybe he was so deeply lost in thought that he couldn't be bothered. Which was definitely understandable. But he, being the hunter that he was, shouldn't have made that mistake. Or maybe it wasn't a mistake. To this day I suppose I'll never know.
When I saw the back of his head, I had felt my heart swell. That beautiful brown hair that, although messy, had always caught my attention. How I had longed, at this point, to stare into those eyes of his. I had opened my mouth, ready to call his name. That one syllable, Gale, which had always made my heart pound. But I hadn't needed to call out for him to turn his head.
His eyes were puffy and red. He had been crying moments before I had walked over. It was exactly that which triggered that feeling in my stomach again. He stared at me, though, those eyes fixed on mine. I remember struggling to keep balance at this time. I had managed, though. Because he then spoke. But when his lips parted, he didn't sound angry or shocked. He sounded calm.
"Madge? What are you doing here?"
He had said my name. My name. Very often I had let that moment replay in the back of my head. In fact, I'm quite certain it will be one of the last things to go through my mind as that bomb hits 12.
"I was worried," I had been able to say. My voice was so unsteady. So uneven. And when he raised an eyebrow I coughed and then spoke once more. "Are you alright, Gale? I - I understand that you'd be.. s-sad.."
"I'm fine," he whispered. He avoided my gaze. I felt even worse. But then he looked at me with the faintest of smiles and patted the large rock beside him.
"I -" I started. I was sure that my cheeks had gone red then. "Are you su - I mean.."
He said nothing. It may have been that silence that had made me step forward. Or maybe it was the way he nodded towards the rock. Regardless, I had walked over. Awkwardly positioning myself beside him. I was sure that my whole body had turned red at this time.
"I never liked the rain, you know," he said, his eyes still locked on me. I tried to avoid them, but there was something about him... about the way he watched me. "I guess this is just even more reason to, huh?"
"I like the rain," I whispered then. He raised his eyebrow in silent question, and I let a smile curl on my lips. "When we first met it was raining. You probably don't remember, though."
"I remember," he had said, voice hoarse. "You were trying to hurry back home, but had slipped and fell. I stopped to help you."
"Yes," I said. "You didn't know who I was. That I was the Mayor's daughter. That was.. that was a much better time."
"How so?"
"You think I'm a snob. Obviously. You think that, because I'm the daughter of the Mayor, that I automatically think I'm better than everyone else. And don't try to deny it, Gale. I'm not stupid."
To this day, I will never understand how I had managed to keep the conversation going this long.
"No, you're not stupid. And you're not a snob, either. Obviously. Because I'm not stupid."
I had felt something touch my fingers. The feel was warm. I was certain that it wasn't a bug, or the touch of a shrub or weed. It was his hand. His touch. So gentle and welcomed.
I was the one that leaned forward. The one that made the supposed "first move". The feel of his lips was even warmer than that of his hand around mine. So much more wanted and longed. I had spent the remainder of that day in his arms. So often with my lips against his. I hadn't even needed to admit my feelings to him, because I think he knew the whole time.
When he whispered in my ear those words that had thus brought down the world around me, I pulled apart. Breaking away from his grip. Never wanting to be in his grasp again. Never wanting to see the aftermath of the obviously-soon-to-come war. I had left him alone in those woods. Gone back home. Underneath that gap in the fence and back up the streets. Hating him. And, maybe even a bit more, hating you.
Because it was those words that made me realise just how hopeless I was.
"I love you, Katniss."