Hi guys, I'm so sorry that this is late. This week is my finals weeks, so I've been studying, and there probably won't be any updates until Wednesday afternoon or Thursday. I'm really sorry :( This definitely isn't one of my favorite drabble, but I'm not a Gale fan, so that might be why. There is some language in this, so if you're bothered by it, skip this chapter. I'm also upping the rating to T, because of the language thing. After this is Caesar Flickerman. After that, I'm thinking Haymitch, Prim, and Madge. I hope you guys like it, and again, I apologize for the wait!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
I want to puke right now, or just claw my own eyes out. I'd settle for strangling Peeta Mellark with my bare hands, though.
Because I'm trying to tell myself that it's his fault all this is happening, even though it obviously isn't. She's the one who leaned in to kiss him, not the other way around. I have watched these Games for eighteen painful years, but none have hurt so much as this one. I hate him! I've been her best friend for so long, and he just strolls in and takes my place.
I really don't want to watch this. I want to go to my room, stick my head under a pillow, and not come out until this is all over.
But I can't leave. I can't turn away from this. I just can't. If I do, it'll feel like I've abandoned her, because in some sick way, I feel like by watching this monstrosity I'm protecting her. Which is complete crap, of course, but it does make me feel better.
I make good on my promise to myself to keep watching this for several minutes, but then, the kiss becomes deeper. I dig my fingernails into the arm of the chair I'm sitting in, and force myself to keep watching, telling myself that I can handle this.
It's the camera zooming in on her fingers twined in the ashy-blond hair at the nape of his neck that sends me over the edge.
Standing up, I turn off the TV and stomp off to my room. I'm glad that my siblings are all asleep, so they don't have to witness this. Flopping down on my bed, I shut my eyes tight, and try to think of something else. Of anything but this.
NotthisnotthisnotthisnotthisnotthisKatnissKatnissKatniss.
I can't get her out of my head. It's just not possible.
When Katniss and Peeta win-and they will win, because in my mind, there's no other alternative. She won't let him die, and if she dies, then I will, too-they'll have to do a victory interview. Usually, it focuses on how the victor went about winning the Games, but this year, it'll have to be a love story. And inevitably, they will ask Peeta the question: Describe her in your own words. And, being the charming little piece of shit he is, he'll spin out some poetic, eloquent speech about how beautiful she is, how wonderful, how loving.
In other words, complete, total, and utter bullshit. Because he doesn't know her. He can't! They've barely known each other for a month, I've known her for years.
I smirk against my pillow, because I know what my answer to that question would be. I wouldn't need his extravagant praise or proclamations of devotion. I could do it in one word.
Everything.
Hopefully you guys enjoyed this...anyone who gets where I got the idea of 'not this, not this' meaning 'everything' will win an Internet, and get their request-if they have one-bumped up the beginning of the queue. I hope you all enjoyed it, and thanks for reading and reviewing!