Here Is The Place Where I Love You
We steal away to that place in the woods, with Gale so angry with me. With me so angry with myself. I don't want to be as reckless as him, and I do – we can't run, not when I'm who I am, one half of a pair of star-crossed lovers who never even loved. Peeta is like a brother, like blood. He is the one I entered and left the arena with. He is the only one who understands. He felt what I felt.
Gale is different.
He makes me feel different.
His arms go around me, strong, not unexpectedly so. He kisses me again. It's warm and I want to cry, but I don't. Instead, I hook my fingers into his jacket and stretch up on my toes. I press my nose against his, my forehead. I kiss him for so long I taste my own mouth and my ears ring. When we pull apart, the blood is roaring in my head. It reminds me of being deaf, but I'm dumb too. I can't say anything. Gale's kisses have made me into an Avox as surely as if he'd cut out my tongue himself. I find his heartbeat and keep my hand there, because I need to know he's vulnerable too.
I need to know I make him feel different.
"Catnip," he says, very quietly.
I know this is stupid.
I know I know better.
I know I was harder before I went into the arena, before I began to worry about lives other than mine and Gale's and Prim's. My mother's. Sometimes Lady's. Never Buttercup's.
"Catnip," he says again, and this time I kiss him. Effie told me that when she went to finishing school in the Capitol, she had lessons in flirting from a woman with magenta swirls tattooed up and down both arms and wizened white skin. I didn't care, but now I wonder if this woman taught kissing too. Am I doing it right? I can't hear, I can't speak, I can't think. My body is beginning to burn, the heat spreading downwards from my lips, all the way to my toes.
I know this is stupid.
I still want more.
"Gale."
His hair and eyes are the same colour as mine. It's like looking at myself, but my features suit him better than they do me. We are the product of this district, the same as coal. Our only worth is as fuel. Happiness is not expected.
It strikes me how unfair this is. It makes me angry, and I am already angry because I can't afford to run away.
Gale, I can afford. I could bring him a few skinny rabbits and he'd still accept the trade. But no, he wouldn't, he isn't that selfish. He'd wait me out. Rabbits, birds, deer. I'd bring them all for him, I realise. Other than Prim, there is no one I love more.
Love, I can afford.
I peel off parts of him I've rarely seen him without – jacket, game bag, socks. I touch his broad scarred back with the tips of my fingers. Anyone could come into these woods and catch us, anyone, and nobody will. Nobody comes here but me and Gale, to feed our families, to laugh. I only smile when I'm in the woods.
My naked body was cleansed of scars by the Capitol. I find it ugly.
Gale disagrees.
He touches the places where there should be scars. I didn't even know he knew those places, but he must've seen things over the years we've spent together: a tree branch whipping backwards too soon, an arrow drawn too quickly. I'd fold my hand around the cut, dismiss it as nothing. He remembers. I've picked up a few extra pounds from eating so well lately, and I'm glad. My ribs are prominent, but my stomach isn't concave. My breasts might as well be wasp stings, and then they do sting. I'm stroking his back and he's stroking my front and as much as I'm wishing vainly, foolishly for the pretty curves of Clove and Glimmer, for Madge's pretty hair, I'm losing myself. I'm losing myself inside Gale as he loses himself inside me, as we lose all sense of balance and fall backwards onto the dry leaves.
I am unafraid when his palms press against mine.
I go blank, I forget to watch every flicker. He will watch. He was always watching, my back, my braid, the light in my eyes when things die. I know I'm not a normal girl, but I will take all the happiness I can. I always try for a higher price, a better trade.
The sun moves, and I stare over his shoulder at the sky.
For uncounted minutes afterwards, neither of us move. Neither of us speak. Gale has already turned onto his back, he knows I can't stay too close for too long. Our forearms are brushing, and that makes me happy. I hope that's enough.
"Sunday is my favourite day of the week," I tell him.
Because he's Gale, because he always knows when to challenge me, he kisses me one more time. He tastes like pennyroyal mint. I'm grateful as he spreads it over my tongue. There will be no baby, no sadness born from our time together. There will only be more happiness.
"It's mine too."
"But we should get back."
"Yes," he agrees, and takes me by the shoulders. "But not yet."
I should say I love him, but what's the point? He knows.
Looking at him is like looking at myself, but my features suit him better than they do me.
Fin.
