One day, they're going to be happy. Gale Hawthorne knows this. He lives this and breathes this. He has a plan - a perfect image of the future - and when the days are rough, it's what keeps him going.
The day after her eighteenth-year reaping, her final reaping, she'll walk in with a smile on her face, and lean over to Madge and tell her excitedly.
"He asked me to marry him."
He can already picture the smile on her face that is sure to be plastered there when it happens, because he'll make her fall in love with him.
And then, after all the waiting is over, they'll have a toasting. Nothing fancy or anything, probably in his or Katniss' home, but they'll toast the bread and people will clap and cheer. He can see it. There won't be too many people there - Katniss isn't the type to show off - but both of their families, sure, and anybody else she wants there. Maybe some of the people from the Hob who've helped them through rough times, and Madge, just because she's friends with Katniss. He doesn't have too many friends, but he likes to picture a few of his classmates coming and clapping him on the back in congratulations.
He likes the idea. He imagines Katniss grinning widely, even though she says she never wants to get married. Even though she never, ever smiles outside of the woods. She'll smile just because she's with him. They'll get married and move into their own little shack of a house, one that may or may not be updated as the years pass.
He wants kids. As much as he tries to deny it, he wants kids. And not just any kids, Katniss' kids. The idea of a little boy or girl running around with their Seam coloring gives him hope, and he thinks, with effort (with a lot of effort), he could probably convince Katniss to have some. They'd be perfect, he imagines, and it wouldn't even matter that they were from the Seam or even from District Twelve, because none of that matters in his daydream. They'd have two perfect kids, because he could feed two perfect kids. They would teach them to hunt in the woods, and they would never have to take out tessera or go around begging for help.
Or maybe, just maybe, they could escape. Maybe, when he's taught Rory how to hunt and take care of his mother and Vick and Posy, and Prim and Mrs. Everdeen are back on their feets, they could just leave. Or they could take everyone with them, if that's what would make Katniss happy. That could work. They could live in the woods, and it would be alright. He and Katniss could still get married, even if it wasn't quite official.
He has to admit, though, that the most tempting idea is the first one, where Katniss comes to school after her final reaping with a smile on her face, ecstatic. The one where Katniss is truly happy, and doesn't have to worry about her family as much. He could already hear himself saying it to her, only two years in the future.
"Marry me, Katniss," he'd whisper.
"Of course," she'd reply, and then she'd kiss him sweetly. They would be in the woods, or maybe somewhere quiet in the Seam, and it would be after the reaping. After he knew for sure that Katniss would be safe. It was traditional, after all, to of couples planned their toasting after the younger members' final reaping. Not to mention, it was illegal for anyone to get married before they were done with school.
But it wouldn't matter too much, because Katniss would only have a little bit of school left. She'd be nearly free, and nearly his. His to take home in his arms, and his to come home to. They could still help provide for each of their families, if that would make things easier. They would still see them, of course. He can't imagine his life without the pressure of providing for his mother and his siblings.
Yet someday, that day would come. Eventually Posy and Vick and Rory would all grow up, and they would be able to take care of themselves. He'd be free of that responsibility, and eventually Katniss would as well. Then they would do whatever they wished.
There would be many other things, as well. A brand new key to a house assigned to them. A chance to decorate and design a new life for the both of them. And a bed big enough for the both of them, with soft sheets and cool pillows. They'd make sweet love in that big bed, pressing their sweaty bodies together, becoming one person. He imagines she'd moan his name, lowly begging him to please her.
"Gale, please," she'd whimper.
And of course, he'd oblige. Her fingernails would dig deep into his bare back, their chests pressed together. He'd take control, and he'd press his body on top of hers, sliding in and out, making her moan and groan and, eventually, they would come at the same time, and they'd both let out a cry.
Then, the next morning, they'd wake up beside each other, Katniss grinning.
"Incredible," she'd murmur under her breath.
He gets hard just thinking about it. And as he jerks off, he pictures her in the woods, with a smile plastered on her face. He pictures her skinny body naked and he imagines it's her hand doing the work, not his. He has to be quiet, because even though he sleeps on the beat-up couch in the front room, the walls are thin. And he doesn't really want to explain what he's doing to Rory or Vick, or even worse, Posy.
But he's content with his little fantasy.
He doesn't know, of course. He doesn't know what tomorrow, his final reaping day brings. He hardly even remembers that it's Rory and Prim's first reaping, because they both only have one slip in the jar. He forgets to worry about them.
He doesn't know that his perfect image will never come true. To him, it's already set in stone; he just has to get up the courage to tell Katniss how he feels. They've been friends for so long, and they understand each other. Katniss will return his feelings, he's confident about that.
Yet what he doesn't know will change that. He jerks off oblivious to the fact that down in the town, there's another boy doing the same thing. Pretending it's the same girl, jerking off wishing it was Katniss. He thinks he's the only one, the only one who has a chance to have Katniss. Katniss is cold, and she's shy and not open. He has no idea about the baker's son who's known her even longer than he has, just not as well. He doesn't know that Peeta Mellark will eventually steal Katniss from him.
But there are a lot of things he doesn't know. He doesn't know that tomorrow, Primrose Everdeen's name will be the name to be called out from Effie Trinket's wretched, pink lips. He doesn't know that by this time tomorrow, Katniss will be on a train heading towards the Capitol with Peeta Mellark.
He doesn't know that the baker's youngest son will profess his love to her during the Pre-Games interview. He doesn't know she'll act like she's in love with him, and when the Capitol people come for interviews, he'll be demoted to her cousin. Her measly cousin, never to have a public romance with her, never to have that perfect toasting. Never to have that perfect daydream.
He doesn't know that Katniss won't return in the white, marble casket like he'll expect her to. Nor will Peeta. There will be feasts and celebrations held for the two of them, and food to be passed out, but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know that they'll return together, holding hands and sneaking kisses. Acting like they're in love, when it should be him and Katniss actually in love. And he doesn't know that it the act will be more than an act.
He doesn't know that when he finally tells her that he loves her, all she'll say is, "I know." Like confessing love is nothing, like it means nothing. She won't kiss him, and shyly admit that she loves him, too, but he doesn't know that. And even though they may be in the woods, there will be so many things completely different.
And he can't even begin to fathom that there won't even be a District Twelve in less than two years. Two short years, when Katniss is supposed to walk into school grinning. That he'll be running around, attempting to save innocent citizens while she's off in the Games, with him. Where they'll act in love. He doesn't know any of this.
Worst of all, he doesn't know that Katniss will actually chose the baker's son over him. That she'll leave her Seam roots for a Merchant boy, a poor, broken, Merchant boy. He doesn't see himself as a killer now, but he doesn't know that soon enough, that's exactly what he'll be. He'll murder so many, even if it wasn't intentional. Like Prim. He doesn't know that he'll lose the only girl he's ever loved. He's just stuck in his daydream, living in the present, ignoring the horrors of the future. The present is safe. The future is scary.
For the lack of bliss in Gale Hawthorne's life, there's an awful lot of ignorance.