Title: Sounds that the heart makes
Summary: She slips through his fingers like the wind.
Pairing: Gale/Madge
Type: Drabble.
A/N: Just because I love them so much.
He feels her.
At first it's vividly, with details; the softness of her skin, the sound of her laughter, the exact shades of blue and green in her eyes.
(sky in the early morning, grass in the spring, she's everything good in the world.)
He imagines sometimes, imagines that she's there with him, wrapped in his arms and secure, telling him about silly things he has the patience to hear only because it's coming from her.
("i want to have a pretty dress, as pretty as the girl's on fire".)
He remembers the taste of her lips, sweet and soft against his. He used to think she'd taste of strawberries but she didn't. She tastes
(tasted, damn fool; tasted)
like Heaven and like sunshine;
(he doesn't know how sunshine tastes but he thinks she's made of sunshine)
and something unique he doesn't know how to explain.
(like love.)
But then the little details start slipping away; the way her lips would curl up in a smile when she would see him or the shade of red that would spread over her cheeks when he'd tease her.
(don't blush little bird, you're the prettiest i ever knew.)
Then the exact shades of her eyes start disappearing and in the end, they're just blue.
(they're so much more but, damn it, he can't remember.)
Then the sound of her voice and the feel of her golden hair between his fingers slip away from his memory.
(he's so angry so he hits the wall. it hurts and he bleeds but he doesn't care.)
Her smell, the sweet scent of rain - he forgets how it would make him feel, like he's in the middle of the Meadow at night with a clear sky, after a rainy day.
(tap tap tap sounds the rain. look at the stars, she says.)
She slips through his fingers like the wind, just a rustle of leaves in the woods; she disappears like a mirage in the desert, slowly and soundlessly, like the waves caressing the shore in District four.
(he tries to forget the screams but they never go away.)
In the end, he can't remember anything; not her face, not the traces her fingers would make on his bruised back or the music she played on her piano.
(how it never hurt, when she would brush his scars. how it hurts now, too much.)
All that's left are the heartbeats in the silence, gentle boom boom boom when he would let his mind wander and remember what he tries not to forget.
(he does. he forgets and it seems like treason. but his heart goes boom boom boom and he wants it to stop so he can join her. Boom boom boom. make it stop. Boom boom boom. I want you back. Boom boom boom.)