April 8, 2020
Author's notes: see bottom
iii. year eight
Katniss notes how he's two different people, maybe more. She notices that's how most people are, even Prim, quiet smiles and soft hands around others, and fiercely passionate in their skeleton home.
He's so boisterous in the cafeteria, drawing eyes and keeping them, but in the woods, he's quiet and simple, direct in every choice. He's different in the Hob too, overconfident and brave, but he's trying to be different there.
She doesn't believe Gale's aware of it, and she wonders if she's like that.
It's her eighth year, and she finally spoke to Madge, the girl at her table. The blonde explains why she sat with her.
"At first," she whispered, chaotic people chatter around. "It was because of that mining accident. I watched you at the ceremony."
It clicks in her mind, the blonde curls on the bone dry platform. The one they use for reapings, and it occurs to her that Gale was also present, with his shakingly sturdy shoulders, with his dirty denim knees. They'd never really talked about it. She doesn't know if that was a conscious choice, and she doesn't know if she wants to know.
"I sat with you out of pity." These are not Madge's words, but this is the meaning Katniss puts behind them. Katniss doesn't like pity, doesn't want people to think she needs them.
Madge continued, "But now I stay, 'cause I enjoy it, this comfortable silence. The Town tables are always filled with useless, irritating talking." That, she can agree with: though, she's never really sat there.
Her and Madge, chat a little more, and Katniss likes this, genuine and sweet. Madge is actually really funny.
"Did you hear Genevieve had sex?" An accent leaks into Madge's joking tone, half-Capitol and half annoying. "Ugh, you'll never guess with who!" She fans her face mockingly. Then, she pushes her palms onto the table, and gapes her eyes at Katniss. "How'd you know it was Gale Hawthorne?" The absolute sneer is showing as she exaggerated his surname.
Katniss winces. He's had sex? He's only—fifteen. Katniss realizes that's plenty old enough to do things like that. She wonders who, when, where?
She notes that Madge can also be many different people, but she feels real when she sits hear with Katniss.
The bell whistles and she doesn't wave to Gale.
—
Later that year, they hunt together, just like always. He's even better with snares, if that's even possible. She's improved her shot, which is nice. Her stomach is still predominantly empty but that's also improving.
Since they met, He's grown past six feet, and she's grown barely an inch, but her hair has grown five and still holds her braid. She hasn't heard a whiff of puberty, but of course not. With no nutrients, you can't really grow.
It's a good trip though. Gale finds an apple tree in the autumn, and tries to climb it, but his over-six-feet ass doesn't make it a foot.
Her barely-breaking-five-feet ass does. Before Katniss knows it, she's sitting on a branch looking down at him. It feels good to look down at him, and she hopes his neck gets a good stretch in looking up.
"Want an apple, Hawthorne?" She's taken to calling him that.
"I'd love one, Catnip." If he won't grace Katniss with her name, she won't give him his.
"Sucks you can't get up here, then." She mocks and he smirks. He looks to the end of her branch. There's clearly a green orb that's within his six-foot reach, plus arms. Her eyes widen as he ambles over, lifting the branch at her side suddenly. The branch crackles unsettlingly, but she remains on the branch. Katniss pulls the treat just barely out his grasp—not really—he's humouring her.
Gale looks to her again, raising a thick brow in question. She knocks her leather boots at him in mock laughter. The boots are frayed brown, and their cluck is satisfying when she sees him swallow in amusement. They both know he can jump and grab the apple, but this is fun.
Katniss eyes twinkle at him without her knowledge. She sticks her tongue out: Gale is quick to respond. Her leg gets snatched by a strong hand and she's falling. Not quite though, her fingers latch the branch, splintering her fingers as she hangs, face to face with him.
She pulls herself back up before she can notice how her nose almost brushed his.
She sits on the bark again, protecting her legs criss-crossing them out reach. The autumn branches make her face glow orangey as she smiles at him, with natural teeth, a little crooked but not noticeably so: endearing is a better word. She was lucky like that, knowing some kids whose teeth wrangle out of their mouths. Little Vick has a gap in his teeth, but it's a cute one, and she knows Gale prays it doesn't get worse than that.
He stares at her when her lips quirk upward, mouth slightly agape, face reddened like the leaves and it pisses her off. What's wrong now? Her smile leaves her face quickly. Plucking an apple, she hits him right in his thoughtful, idiotic face.
"Ow!" She laughs from her perch, and he's looking her again from the grass where he'd fallen in shock. Apple rolling at his feet. He got hit a little harder than Isaac Newton, she muses. Ah school, teaching her of useless people. Maybe not useless, she had just made a connection.
She's laughing hard still, at the great Gale, knocked off his feet. She barely feels an apple hit her in the shoulder, knocking her balance.
She falls right on top of him with a thud, knocking the air from his lungs, stolen it for hers. She's isn't heavy; her bones are visible from every angle, but she's definitely heavier than an apple.
He's gasping far too roughly to notice how she straddled him. She's rolls off of him to still on the ground, and she's turning away before her cheeks get as red as his.
A little thought enters her mind distinctly and never really leaves: how many girls have been where she was? Except, with less clothes and more curves: he probably didn't even notice what had happened.
After Madge's little joke, the thoughts can't seem to leave her.
(He did notice though, noticed her smile, her laugh. He's pushing up on his elbows to see her climb back up the tree, because they need those apples. Her braid sways back and forth, like a clock's pendulum.
Just now, he notices she's a girl, a pretty one.)
—
It didn't last long enough, her laugh, the curve of her lips that drew his eyes involuntarily. After that, he never stops searching for them.
—
Somewhere along the line, acquaintance changes. She notices his glance now. When she hands him an apple the next day, his eyes really start to haunt her.
—
She's sitting as silent as ever with Madge, as the older kids start to leave. He waits behind as his friends take off, and as he finally walks by, he rests a knuckle on the table, and meets her eyes to whisper. "See ya later, Catnip."
He's gone, and Madge questions, with a little mirth and a little more sneer in her tone. "Catnip? I didn't know you were friends with Gale Hawthorne."
She didn't either, but as she holds green apple in her grasp, her lips curve up only slightly.
—
iv. year nine
The ninth year confuses her. The class schedule is vexing, and at fourteen she doesn't want to learn the order.
Now, her lunch period falls in line with Gale's. This fact shouldn't make her skin bubble the way it does.
Oddly, he'd gotten even taller, not too much though. Sometimes, Katniss wonders, if he'd had enough food throughout the years, how tall he would've been.
Katniss hadn't grown, much to Gale's amusement. He likes to rest his arm on her head. He still treats her like she's smaller than him: she still is, but it's different now, but she can't place why.
It's an annoying tactic in the Hob, but it works. It makes people underestimate her.
—
When she laughs over Sae's soup one day, little tufts of hair framing her soft, freckled face, he notices. His own heavy chuckles resonate with hers, quiet and light.
Don't stare; it's creepy.
She can't know what he's feeling. Gale doesn't know what he's feeling.
—
Though their table had changed, her and Madge still sat together, but this time Katniss found her first, went looking for her, in fact. The sparkle in her blue eyes when Katniss sat down with her said more than their mouths ever had to.
Madge always has the moldiest of strawberries, but she always brings them anyway, searching for a treat. Katniss watches her, "Why don't you just stop buying them?" The heat was sweltering in the room as the summer sun beats down on the building.
Madge looks shocked, dropping the bitten sweet. "I, uh, they're my favourite." Katniss nods. Then, she looks at Gale, and a thought enters her head. It's summer, after all. If there's an apple tree, there's a strawberry bush
"I could bring you some fresh ones." And her eyes widen, sparkling.
"Actually?" Katniss nods, wiping her sweaty forehead as a mission forms.
—
"What are you doing?" Cleaning an arrow, he watches as she teeters to a strawberry bush. She starts sorting, slowly, looking for the best. Pulling a cloth from her bag, she rests her first berry on it.
"Well, the mayor really likes strawberries, and I convinced him to trade with us." She rolls up her sleeves, and bites the inside of her cheek. He watches her a little more as the golden sun lights up her face.
He sets down his game bag, and trudges over to help. "You convinced his daughter." When exactly did he get to know her so well?
She grabs a plump strawberry. "Pretty much." Putting it down on the cloth, she watches Gale eat one, and she whispers mockingly. "I hope there wasn't a bug in that."
He chokes after swallowing. Her laughter makes him glare at her, gulping, "I hope so too, because it's too late." He starts to pile strawberries in with the others.
The sun beats down on them, darkening their already olive skin tones. After a little while, he voices an opinion. "That girl is so privileged, rich, clean, fed. She can have anything she wants."
Katniss stops, glaring at him, "that's not her fault." She doesn't deny it. Her finger are red with strawberries as they squeeze in defence. They kneel beside each other softly, sweaty summers making them smell a little bit gross.
He looks her in the eyes, "I know, but do you really think she'll get reaped instead of you? With her three slips, and your twelve?" Gale's voice raises slightly.
Her eyes meet his in challenge as she gathers up their strawberries. She wants to be angry, but she realizes, he's been counting.
Katniss hadn't, but after Gale says her number, she starts counting his. Tesserae, tesserae, all the mandatory...
"That's not her fault." She repeats, putting the berries in her bag. He has so many slips, small, little things.
"I know."
What are the odds?
—
When they arrive at the mayor's door, Katniss holds the berries on his burnt-orange deck, too afraid to knock. Gale does for her.
Her pigeon stance jolts when Mayor Undersee opens the door. He looks confused. "Your daughter told me she liked strawberries." Katniss murmurs, the hardwood door echoes to her eyes. The house inside looks pristine, lovely. She knows Gale sees it too.
He pays them gratuitously, never questioning how they had them in the first place.
(Katniss understands this. If you don't ask questions, you don't care. Mayor Undersee won't take care of them, just like they won't take care of the shelter kids.
Loyalty is big in this district: caring is dangerous.)
—
The corridors of the school were a blistering cold. She could feel it through her shoes. Winter had always been the worst time to hunt, with the dying herbs and hiding game.
Gale jokes sardonically and about how lucky they are that the baker boy likes her so much. He sounded catty, and his eyes were flaring; after all, a loaf of bread is hardly worth two squirrels, but Katniss says its just her bargaining talents, aware that his eyes catch her lie.
Gale isn't the only boy in the room she makes eye contact with. The youngest of the Mellarks had been staring at her endlessly, the one who gifted her bread.
She pretends not to notice. Gale can't help but see it. He does nothing from his table ten feet a way from her and five from Peeta, but his eyes can't stop their glare.
"Something wrong, Gale?" His friend Thom asks with concern. Gale shakes his head in denial, but keeps glaring. Peeta Mellark ducks his head, but not in shame. He just isn't a fighter, and for some reason, that makes Gale get goosebumps and guilt.
—
Katniss has always been a watcher, in hunting, in school. She observes how the Merchants' children have lockers, paid for and reserved, to store their plethora of items. Items Katniss will never know.
When she finally did figure out her class schedule, she realized that their grey eyes got to meet each other in the halls, as cold, leaky and cramped as they were.
They passed each other between second and third period, and then between fourth and fifth. He bumps her shoulder with his every time, leaving a little grin in his wake.
The world of gossip took notice, though not for long. Because a shoulder bump after second period, and an absence after fourth, is nothing in comparison. Katniss saw him leaning against one of those expensive merchant's locker, chatting up another blonde.
This one is in her year though, and that bothers her, to be overlooked. If Gale's flirting with a girl in her year, it means he's okay with it, a girl younger than him—her age—and he never even considered her. Funnily, Kattniss doesn't want to be looked at, not by him, not by anyone. Blaming the feeling on her competitive streak, her pride, she feels slightly less insecure.
Her stomach clenches, and suddenly, her hair feels too dirty to be pretty. Her fingers fiddle her braid with held breaths. Her clothes are too heavy, leaving too much looking boxy, and the frayed stitches are calling her out.
As she watches them, Katniss scrounges for a name, and fills in Marie. She's a blue-eyed beauty, of course, and... and nothing, it shouldn't matter to her.
It shouldn't bother her, because Marie's no different than the others.
After all, she'd heard whispers of Gale Hawthorne. She's another of the many, and just because she's her age, doesn't make her any different.
The next day, Marie brags to her friends, about their trip to the slagheap. In front of them, Katniss slouches in her desk, desperate to melt into it.
—
Madge gifts her a pin, saying it's lucky: for the reaping. The pin is real gold; it could feed her family for months.
But she doesn't sell it. She does consider it every time her stomach growls, every time Gale needs a break because of a hot flash. The closest she comes is when Prim's cheeks start to hollow. She still doesn't sell it.
It's Prim's first reaping, Rory's second.
Gale's last, he's got 42 slips in the bowl.
Gale and her hunt every day. They never mention his adventures to the slagheap, ever.
He's finally stopped growing, vertically that is. Muscles are still developing, along with their skills as hunters; they can put weight on. Gale created some new snares and they work amazingly.
She hit puberty, and it's showing through her body. Soft curves with rigid edges. Sometimes, looking in the mirror, she subconsciously questions if there will ever be a day when she can't see her ribs.
One day, on the way home from the Hob, horrible cramping brings her to her knees. Gale, who was right beside her, is instantly on the rescue. He picks her up, probes her, receiving no answers. His mind goes through all the possibilities.
"Are you alright?" His eyes whip every direction they can, and she just nods. Gale drags her deadweight to the Everdeen's front door. His shoulders scream worried, and Katniss sees how fragile he is, how much nothing has changed since the mines collapsed.
Gale gets attached so easily, too easily. This amount of concern should not be his downfall. She doesn't understand him. Why his voice cracks when he tells her mother what happened.
Her mother watches as he panics—Katniss hadn't wanted him to—but he didn't know what to do. He talks and stammers, holding Katniss to his chest. Mrs. Everdeen stares blankly, and her eyes go wide with recognition, only thirty seconds late. She ushers Gale inside and gets him to put Katniss down on their old couch.
Then, her mom tells him to leave, and he instantly fights this request, but Primrose grabs his arm, dragging Gale to the door. The twelve-year-old has a strong grip.
There was too much blood, and red always made Katniss queasy. Luckily for her, her mother started being receptive two months ago.
The next day was the only day she'd ever missed hunting. She claims sickness, which wasn't totally a lie.
His eyes follow her for the rest of the hunt, staying right behind her like he's ready for a collapse, but she thinks he'll be the one falling with how much he puts himself out there. Either of them could be reaped, and he still puts his heart into everything.
She will never collapse like that again. It's a promise only she heard.
—
After a particularly bad haul one day, they stop for their trades at the Hob, saving two squirrels for the baker. They get most of their trading done, and it's not good. Sitting in silence with Gale is usually more enjoyable, but today it's tampered with worry.
No lunches for either of them this week, just breathes of cold fog.
"What's got you two in a shitty mood today?" Sae inquires, stirring her pot. Gale and her stare at it hungrily. They can't afford a bowl and Greasy Sae can't afford to give any out.
"Shitty haul." Gale supplies, rubbing his gloved hands together in the cold. The Hob moves around them, little snowflakes peak in the cracked windows.
They all sit enjoying the company of a swirling soup. Darius arrives, and he's twirling her braid. He suggests a trade and it piques her interest.
"A squirrel for a kiss?" He purrs in her ear. She scoffs, turning away.
Gale is on the defence rather quickly. He stands in front of the peacekeeper, ready for a fight. The ginger grins knowingly and the mock shows in his eyes.
Katniss forces Gale back down, flicking his forehead. His grey eyes widen and their burn depletes.
"Maybe later, Darius." She offers, knowing he'd leave. Her eyes never left Gale's as she witnesses anger in his coal built armour at her statement.
She turns to Sae, ignoring his almost... pouting. Katniss sees a crooked smile behind wise eyes. Katniss lifts a brow in question, and the elder mumbles about "obliviousness".
"Here, kiddos, no charge." Her cracked nails push four dirty carrots towards them. Gale picks them up hesitantly, about to argue. Debts are not something you have in the Seam. "Okay, fine, call it payment. How's that? For all the times I robbed you kids before y'learned the difference between shit and gold?"
This quiets him, and Gale hands her two. The bigger two, so she swats him, trading him the biggest of hers for his smallest. Even, or close enough.
He smiles at her, brightly, fully: it's a mix of all his weird smiles. The thoughtful quirks of his cheek, the entitled grin, and the idiotic smirk, full and crisp. She returns it when the corner of her mouth lifts.
Sae shoes them to the baker claiming she's going to throw up.
Only when she's alone later that night does she realize Gale had given her his forest smile.
(She dared to hope, that maybe his smile wasn't for the forest, maybe it was for her.)
She rolls over, ignoring the thought.
—
The next day, when they meet eyes across the room, his smile appears again. Then, he chomps a carrot dramatically, as she nibbles at hers.
Madge enjoys fresh strawberries quietly across from her. It felt so nice to have a lunch, to have someone to share it with.
—
(The pin of the mockingjay anchors in her pocket, and Katniss just knows.)
—
The Everdeens and the Hawthornes escape the reaping.
All of them, bless them, oh bless the odds.
Peeta Mellark and Madge Undersee do not. Odds are not to be favoured.
—
Hey thanks for making it this far :)
Ellenka: thanks for the lovely review!