Author's Note: What? I'm actually active? While I know I've made empty promises to complete my other Finnick/Katniss FanFiction, I just can't bring myself to finish it. After looking back on it, I can see now that it is very, VERY rough. I want a chance to start over, fresh, new, and back again with my favorite pairing. So here it goes, here goes my attempt to put out the best Finnick/Katniss story to ever walk this domain known as (because frankly, we need more Finnick/Katniss).
PS: Yes, yes, it says Finnick and Katniss. Although it might not seem like that in the FIRST FEW CHAPTERS, don't worry, my favorite pairing shall emerge from the ashes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. In case you didn't realize, I'm not Suzanne Collins.
Katniss' POV:
The tune of the birds awaken me from my sleep. The sun sneaks past the dirty window and the half-drawn curtain, only to hit me right in the eyes. I inwardly sigh as I force myself to get up from my bed. Quietly, so as not to wake Prim who is still sleeping, I slide into my father's leather jacket and brown boots. The originally rough material has worn down over years of constant use. I take in the smell of the leather, imagining my father's scent; he smelled like the forest, fresh and green, with a mixture of smoke and coal.
My father spent a lot of time down in the mines, but every day, even if he was late, he kissed my forehead before leaving in the morning and when he arrived home late at night. Then one evening, I didn't get a good night kiss. I sat on my bed and waited all night for him. I could hear my mom whispering, almost crying in the kitchen. They told me he was gone. I remember calling for him, screaming desperately into empty nothingness, but he was gone. The rest passed in a blur: going to the Justice Building, attending the funeral, collecting the money for his death, and meeting Gale. Gale's father died in the accident too. It was something we shared over the years, that and a desperate need for food.
Together, Gale and I supported each other. We worked together like a machine, and gradually over the years, we became a well-oiled machine. When we're together, we're always on the same tempo, whether it be at school or in the forest, Gale always knows what I am thinking. Prim's voice interrupts my thoughts.
"Where are you going Katniss?" she asks, as her small head peaks outs from underneath the covers.
"Just to the forest. I'll be back soon," and with that, I kiss her forehead and leave.
I cross the fence and trek deeper into the forest. I've always loved the smell of early morning dew, the never-ending extent of greenery, and the way the forest is always so filled with life. The forest offers protection no one else can give me; it shields me from the horrors of District 12, of Panem, and of the Games.
I make my way to my favorite spot in the forest, a small alcove tucked away in the trees. At the center of the nook lay a pond surrounded by Primroses and Katniss plants. I discovered this place after my father died, and only Gale knows about it. It's so serene and peaceful that when I'm here, nothing else matters in the world. It's my bubble, and I'm frozen in time. I just sit thinking. Today is Saturday which means tomorrow is Sunday, Reaping Sunday. The thought of Prim having a chance to be reaped scares me. Prim, my sweet little Prim, Prim who has brought me so much joy and happiness, Prim, my Primrose in a sea of dandelions.
"Wow, I wonder what's got you this deep in thought," Gale says making me jump, "No one ever sneaks up on Katniss Everdeen."
I swivel to look at him only to catch him smiling at me, a smile that makes my heart jump more than I just did a few seconds ago. He finds a seat on the rock next to me, leaving less than a centimeter between us. I am acutely aware of how close he is to me; his warm body radiates off heat. Things between Gale and I just sort of happened, one day we were just friends, and the next day, we were more than that. I'm not entirely sure if I like it, but it is definitely something different.
We just sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us acknowledging the anxiety tomorrow brings.
I notice he's hiding a brown bag near his feet, so I reach to grab it to see what's inside. I bend over and attempt to snatch it away, but my short arms and Gale's long legs fail me. Gale grabs me and flips me over so I'm staring up into eyes.
"Curious today, are we Catnip?" He asks teasingly. "Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Don't touch what's not yours'?"
I pouted jokingly, and Gale leans closer.
"Now, now, I'll show you what's inside, but there's a price to be paid…" He says with a smirk, leaning in even closer. Our lips are a centimeter apart. His hand makes his way behind my head, cradling it and pulling me even closer. His eyes closes, and I know now's my chance. In one swift motion, I peck his lips, reach down, grab the brown bag, and untangle myself from his embrace. He opens his eyes shocked, and I smile at him with an extra glimmer in my eye.
"Well I guess what we've learned today is that we both can be taken off guard," I say with a shrug, still grinning at him. "Let's see. What have we got in here?" I ask opening up the bag. I look inside and gasp, inside lies a bottle of wine. In District 12, wine is only used for special occasions of celebrations like weddings. Bottles of wine are usually pretty expensive, even when snagged from the black market; it's just a luxury most people in District 12 never get to have. I'm surprised Gale bought a bottle, especially with the constant financial strain we are all under here in 12.
I pull out the bottle and look at Gale questioningly.
"Exactly six years ago, right here on this very rock, we talked for hours about our first reaping that would be happening the next day. Tomorrow marks our last reaping. Our last chance to be taken by the Capitol and sucked into their world. I think that's cause for celebration because after tomorrow, we finally have a real shot…" He says trailing off.
I am truly at a loss for words. I've never been the type to express my feelings through words. Instead, I believe that actions speak louder than words, so I do just that. I take Gale's hand and press it to my lips. It's not a sign of a promise, but a sign of hope. A hope to a life forever preserved in this moment, in this alcove, with Gale by my side.