I'm having Gale withdrawal and seeing as exams start on Wednesday, I think I need some cheering up.
Disclaimer: Were I the writer, Suzanne Collins, I'd have Peeta shot and Gale announced King of the World. But I'm not. Damn.
The tears may not fall for me but I'll certainly dry them. Gale won't be boarding the plane to 2 today, after all. Galeniss one-shot.
One-shot.
I grip the handle of the case and trudge forward slightly, about two centimetres. The pristine white aircraft reflects the sun and it lands in my eye. It's funny, really. Even in the Capitol, the sun seems fake. Too bright and too gaudy. No one admires the simplicity of pure beauty.
Pure beauty can only be summed up in one word for me.
Catnip.
Not Katniss. Katniss was never mine. Firstly, Katniss was her fathers. Then Peetas and ultimately, the Capitols. My Catnip never left. She stayed with me in my memory, her strong spirit sticking to everything.
But now I'm the one who's leaving.
Ultimately, I guess I always knew it'd be me. I remember at a stage when I was about six, my face morphed into a permanent scowl. My mother complained that unhappiness tended to follow me like a dark shadow. No, I have never been the beam of sunlight that was supposed to lighten up my family's life. Nor anyone else's for that matter. I've always been me. Just Gale. And I don't know if it's possible for me to change.
I shuffle forward as each person steps into the aircraft. I'm not far now. Not far at all from my destiny. I may not be able to change my ways but I have to change what I want. And what I want is loneliness.
I want to be lonely so that I can learn to live with it. Of course she'd never pick me. What little time we were given together was pleasant but it was never enough for me. And I was never enough for her.
I'm bad at looking after people. I can't give advice or cheer people up. All I have is sarcasm and a couple of ropes. And I'm fine with that. She needs someone who can relate to her issues; whereas I'll be staring at her day after day wondering why the old Catnip just won't come back. I can't understand what she is going through. Especially seeing as looking at me will be an equally painful reminder to her.
Again, I move forward. I'm about to hand the clerk in front of the aircraft this small book that contains my details as someone puts their hand on my shoulder. I turn rapidly.
Haymitch Abernathy glares at me with those beady, rat-like eyes.
"You just going to leave?" His voice is gruff.
He walks away from the aircraft and clearly intends that I follow. The person behind me takes my place.
My face remains void of emotion.
"I'm not staying here." I say. Because, if anything, life in 12 has thought me that I will never like the Capitol, even if the corruption is minimal.
He curls his hands into fists.
"So, you're heading to 2, a place you know nothing about? Go home, boy. Everyone else is."
A small spurt of anger comes shooting through my body.
"Precisely the point," I argue, "If I go back, there's nothing for me. My family aren't there anyway."
"But she is."
His voice is slow and he emphasizes the word 'she'.
I swallow before answering, putting every piece of anger and hurt I feel into one short sentence. And I hate myself for saying this. It's like I'm giving up. Even when she was to be married to Peeta, I didn't give up. Hell, I'd have taken her from him with the first chance I got.
"But she doesn't want me."
He sighs dramatically and all I can think is 'here we go, pep-talk of the century coming at me, drunken-idiot style.'
"Yes, because an emotionally disturbed, seventeen year old girl is fully capable of deciding what she wants. This morning she didn't know if she wanted yogurt or cereal! So, do you know what she did?"
My eyes glare right into his.
"Yeah. I'm guessing she took both."
The double meaning is clear. She didn't know if she wanted me or Peeta so she took us both for as long as she possibly could. And I was willing to believe that it was because she could love two people at the same time. No. It was pure indecision.
He shakes his head.
"No," he grumbles, "She's learnt her lesson. She didn't know which one to choose so she didn't take either. The only reason she's been eating anything is because the nurses have been shoving stew down her throat!"
I look to the ground. I know what he is going to ask. And I know how I'll answer it.
"So," he continues, "Have you learnt your lesson? Running away isn't going to do anything for you. Take it from an idiot who's spent half of his life running away from thoughts with whiskey. She needs you, you twit."
I look up at him.
"Where is she?"
"Boarding the plane to 12 as we speak. Take a left. You can't miss it."
I grab the book and case and run full pelt to the left, ignoring the looks of outrage I receive from those I have narrowly missed in the waiting queue. I turn left and continue. I see it. It's straight ahead and, instead of the glaring white, this one is grey. For some reason, that seems to be a good omen for me.
I chuck my bag arbitrarily and hunt through the crowd for her.
I stare up at the steps she is now mounting. Behind her, a boy with blonde hair that is dirtying up to become brown follows and I breathe.
Peeta. Of course, he'd be going.
Though his sanity is questionable and both of us had called a halt to the arguing, the feeling I get once I see him will always remain the same. I will always be jealous of the Baker boy. No matter how high he flies or how hard he falls, the envy will always be there.
I expect him to grip her hand and pull her into the aircraft, but instead, he notices that she has hesitated and he pushes straight past her, not looking back as her face contorts with a mixture of pain and anger.
He's gone inside but she stays and she looks at the aircraft longingly.
A voice behind me bellows "What the hell are you waiting for?"
For the first time in a few weeks, I grin.
I, again, ignore the looks I receive as I mount the stairs and head straight towards her, I don't shout or scream her name because I know she's not going anywhere.
As I reach the step she remains on, my hand reaches over and pulls at her arm. She turns suddenly and that's when I see the tears. I pull her close to me as though nothing could make me let go. She buries her head deeply into my chest.
The tears may not fall for me but I'll certainly dry them.
There is no emotional reunion. We stand there, both of us unwilling to break the moment with unnecessary speech.
I know that when she looks at me, all she will see is Prim's terrified face. But I'll fix that. I'll take care of her like I took care of Prim. I owe it to both of them.
I may be bad at looking after people but I'll certainly try.
I push her head gently away as I notice Haymitch's face, staring up at us. He mounts the stairs, nods to me and takes his seat.
Her eyes look emptily up at me, as if searching for something to fill them with. I'll try to fix that too.
"I'm here," I say, my tone is low, "I'm not leaving you."
She exhales slowly. I drop my arms that have encircled her but I keep my hand intertwined with hers. My grasp won't break.
She says nothing but I pull her into the aircraft and I sit her in-between myself and Haymitch.
She stares at the floor.
Haymitch nods to me again.
Both of us in agreement. We'll fix the girl who was on fire together.
She'll be Catnip again. She'll smile, she'll glare, she'll hunt.
"Love," I say, "You'll love again."
She looks at me with interest.
"Yeah," She whispers, and I feel her squeeze my hand, "I will."
Quite the time to get at least five story ideas, right smack in the middle of exams. I just had too!
R&R bitte.
LF xoxo