six times fire consumes Gale from the inside, and one time it makes its way to the outside.
I. (fifteen years old; june)
Gale is just about to leave the Everdeen house when Katniss' mother stops him. "Katniss and Prim and I will be going to the Undersees' for a bonfire ` tonight if you'd like to come," she chirps uncharacteristically. Katniss looks exasperated, but says nothing. Gable bites the inside of his cheek. The Undersees'. The one family in District Twelve that isn't starving, breaking laws (he's sure), or dying of some ungodly sickness. He shifts his eyes towards Katniss, whose expression has now changed to don't you dare say no, and he swallows roughly. "Sure, Mrs. Everdeen," he forces a smile. "I'd be glad to."
"Good," Katniss' mother smiles gently. "You can come back around seven if you'd like. I talked to your mother about it."
Gale wonders when Mrs. Everdeen and his own mother have started talking, but he knows this isn't the time to ask. Nodding curtly, still forcing the smile, he opens the door, welcomed by the sweet, warm air of early summer. Katniss follows, as always, but she leans against the greying wall of her house instead of venturing further, as the two usually do. She crosses her arms, followed by her ankles, as she leans, biting her lip. Her eyes are downcast. "It means a lot to her," she says quietly.
"Yeah, well," Gale rasps, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't like town. She has to know that."
"Why does she have to?" Katniss spits, a little sharply. "Gale, I've known you just over a year, for heaven's sake."
"I might as well walk around with it stamped on my forehead," he remarks dryly. "But I've got nothing else to do, and your mother looks pretty when she smiles."
Katniss' lips lift into a small smile of her own before she speaks again. "Madge will be there," she says quietly. "She's not so bad. I sit by her at lunch, and she's a nice girl."
"That's not what I've heard," Gale grumbles. He's been around to listen to the blonde's name hissed through secretive lips. She was only twelve, like Katniss, but she looked much older without the help of makeup she could well afford. He shakes his head. "I don't like town," he repeats.
"Stop being so stubborn!" Katniss exclaims. She's small, bony, half his size, but she surely bites. "You know nothing about her, Gale. Just because her hair is gold doesn't mean she's a bad person."
"It has nothing to do with her hair, Katniss," Gale shoots back, holding words on his tongue that he knows Katniss' mother wouldn't want her to hear. He hates how his voice cracks; he wishes it would just hurry up and change already. "It has to do with the fact that she's living like a king, while the District her father is running is being torn to shreds."
"That's not his fault!" she shouts. It doesn't deter him, but she looks ashamed, returning her eyes to the ground. "And you know what I meant."
Gale sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He did know what Katniss meant. He just hated the idea of seeing Madge Undersee for more than thirty seconds so much that he couldn't see straight. Madge never had to take out tessarae, cross the fence, go to bed hungry, or say goodbye to her father in the morning not knowing it was the last time she'd ever do so. It was hard not to resent people like her, even though he knew in his heart of hearts that he was being far too presumptuous. And on the surface, she was pretty...
"You're coming," Katniss raises her voice after the silence. "You told my mom you were coming."
"I am," he sighs gruffly. "I'll be back here later."
"Goodbye, Gale," Katniss manages a sad smile. Oh, how she wishes Gale would stop looking at the walls in front of him and open the door.
...
Mrs. Everdeen, Katniss, Gale, and a giggling Prim are making their way towards the front of the Undersee mansion. Gale has swung Prim up over his shoulders, thinking bitterly to himself about how much he'd rather talk to this blonde than the one he's most definitely going to have to talk to later. She's so skinny, it disheartens him. But the little girl is unphased, laughing about some lame joke Gale told her earlier. Oh, well. At least Katniss and her mother are smiling.
Gale sets Prim down as Mrs. Everdeen knocks on the front door. A woman Gale doesn't recognize opens the door. "Hello," she smiles a little. She's probably a maid, Gale realizes, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. Mrs. Everdeen says a "hello" back, and soon enough, the group of them are being led through the house. It's huge, crystal windows letting in the late sunset; snacks are set out on a solid oak table near a huge patio door. Gale's only heard of them, doors that lead out onto an expanse outside, and he can't help but marvel at their handiwork. The floors are a rich mahogany, the walls adorned with paintings and photos. Gale only really notices one. A small blonde girl with perfectly cut bangs and touseled golden curls looks up at the camera in a toothy grin, gripping a piece of colored chalk, smears of it evident on her flowered dress. A small blonde boy is next to her, just as picture-perfect, also smiling. He's sure the little girl has to be Madge, but he isn't sure who the boy is. He wonders until the door is opened before him, and he nervously walks out onto the porch. There are lanterns strung about in various colors, paper flowers adorning the wooden plank stairwell that leads to a stony path down below.
"Katniss!" a cheerful, bright voice that makes Gale think of sunshine calls out.
"Hey, Madge," Katniss chuckles as she embraces a girl a few inches shorter than she. This girl is small too, but it's obvious that she eats better than most the District. Even with the hunting Katniss and Gale do, Katniss is at least ten pounds skinnier, and it's noticeable. Madge isn't fat, though, nowhere close. She's healthy, and it shoots a pang of jealousy through his stomach. Not for himself, but for Prim and Katniss and his own siblings.
"I'm so glad you could make it," she smiles, and it makes Gale's heart skip a little. Her teeth aren't perfect, a dazzling white but slightly crooked; the word cute comes to mind, but Gale pushes it away. Her hair is down in waves over her shoulders, and she wears a white dress that reveals the curves beginning to form.
"I'm glad to be here," Katniss smiles. Gale notices he barely ever sees Katniss smile like this, even with him. And here she's done it half a dozen times in the past hour. He doesn't let himself become jealous of Madge in this aspect, though. He and Katniss share something that Madge could never even attempt to touch. But he finds himself tracing her again with his eyes, studying the way her hair falls over the stark whiteness of the dress, how it hugs her chest, and her waist, and slides over her hips...
"Pretty dress," he murmurs, and his cheeks begin to burn as he realizes that both of the girls in front of him definitely heard. Madge's surprised expression is something Gale could almost laugh at if he were not so embarrassed. Madge crosses her arms tighter, and though she is probably not blushing as much as he is, the bright red on her face shows much clearer through her ivory skin versus Gale's olive complexion. Katniss raises an eyebrow like she thinks she knows something, although there is nothing for her to know. "Thank you, Gale," Madge mutters softly, averting his eyes. He smiles the tiniest of smiles - he finds himself liking the sound of his name in Madge's voice.
Katniss clears her throat. "Gale's glad to be here too."
He laughs a little, and so does Madge, though she still won't look at him. "Um," she says softly, "do you guys want some lemonade?"
Gale avoids his impulse reaction of what's that, and instead nods as Katniss does so. Madge walks up the porch steps and disappears around the corner, leaving Katniss and Gale alone. The smirk on his friend's face annoys Gale, but if she were in his position, he'd be teasing her endlessly, so he mentally thanks her. "It's made out of lemons, the lemonade," Katniss says softly. As Gale's nose wrinkles, Katniss bursts into a short bout of laughter. "No, it's really good!" she assures him. "There's a lot of sugar in it."
"You've had it?" Gale asks in slight disbelief. Gale can only remember one time in his life when he'd tasted sugar; his father brought home a box of sugarcubes for his mother when he was about seven years old, and when his mother saw it, she burst into tears and threw her arms around her husband's neck, laughing. Gale, at his young age, thought this was because the precisely cut, grainy substance tasted better than anything he'd ever had. A few years later he discovered its price and demand, and he knew the taste was barely the reason at all. But he's sure he'll like this drink if it's as sweet as the memory Katniss' words brought back to him.
"Yeah," Katniss answers. "Madge gave me a bottle of it in third grade, for my birthday."
A short while later Madge is awkwardly coming back down the stairs, holding three glass bottles filled with a cloudy, pale yellow liquid. Katniss takes one immediately to lessen the burden and hands it to Gale; it only takes a small amount of fiddling for him to undo the cap. Katniss and Madge have already begun drinking theirs, licking their lips in satisfaction, but Gale is tentative.
"It's really good," Madge assures him softly. It stings a little that she knows he's never had any. Slowly, he raises the bottle to his lips, taking a miniscule sip. Katniss smiles teasingly, glancing at Madge, who's just hoping Gale doesn't hate it and get annoyed with her or something. His eyes light up, though, as he takes a bigger drink. It's the most perfect mixture between tangy and sour and sweet.
"I like it," he says, trying to direct the comment towards Katniss rather than Madge, simply because he's so embarrassed. His hard exterior is starting to wear off just a little - Madge is too delicate for him to truly depsise. Now that he has gotten a good look at her, half of the rumors he's heard are discarded as false. It's just too impossible for Madge to be the kind of person he's heard she is.
"That's good," Madge smiles, this time not exposing her teeth. Her name is called in the distance, and Madge looks in the direction of the voice. "I, um," she fidgets, "I'll talk to you guys later."
"Thanks," Katniss grins. "See you, Madge."
Gale manages a halfhearted wave as Madge scampers off, leaving him and Katniss alone. Okay, fine, he doesn't dislike Madge as much as he thought he would. But now that she's gone, he can't help but admit that he's much more comfortable.
"It's not the prettiest she's worn," Katniss remarks offhandedly. Gale's been savoring his drink and isn't sure what Katniss is referring to. "Hm?" he raises his eyebrow at her.
She smirks, "The dress."
Oh. "Shut up," Gale mumbles, looking away from Katniss. "I didn't know what else to say."
"Oh, I don't know," the brunette laughs. "Maybe 'hello'?"
"'Hello' is for ameteurs," he says coolly, though Katniss laughs again. "Ameteurs at what, exactly?" she asks, eyebrow raised.
"You wouldn't understand," he looks at her pointedly, a smile playing at his lips. "You're only twelve, Katniss."
"I'm old enough to have my name in the bowl," she jeers, but Gale's face falls a little. Without missing a beat, Katniss grabs his wrist. "Come on," her voice is softer. "Let's go by the bonfire." She jerks her head towards a glowing flame in the distance, emitting white puffs of smoke into the darkening night sky.
"Okay," he smiles a little back, sighing in content. He might as well enjoy himself.
. . .
He and Katniss are laughing at a joke that doesn't matter, her head on his shoulder, when Madge takes a seat next to Katniss. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," she laughs, popping a strawberry into her mouth. It reminds Gale of a strawberry bush he discovered just the week before, near the lake in the middle of the woods. They're just beginning to ripen. "No, not at all," Katniss smiles, only glancing quickly back at Gale. The way Madge looks at him, at them, as she settles herself on the log they're sitting on, he suddenly realizes: she's jealous. Maybe she even thinks he likes her, or he likes Katniss. Dammit.
Whether any of those assumptions are accurate or not, which he doesn't think they are, Gale can't let Madge believe them. He removes his arm from its position over Katniss' shoulders and folds his hands in his lap, leaning forward, gazing into the fire. He might not hate Madge, sure. But he doesn't like her.
Soon Madge and Katniss' bright chatter becomes solemn; Gale realizes when he decides to listen that they're talking about the reaping. "I'm scared," Madge remarks quietly. "I think about it a lot at night."
This bothers Gale a little. "How many entries can you have, anyway?" he asks rudely. He knows he should just shut up but he, for some reason, can't. "One, right? I had five when I was your age."
He expects Madge to wither; it just seems like something she'd do. But she leans over to make eye contact with him, staring past an obviously uncomfortable Katniss. "I may only have one slip in the Reaping bowl," she says sharply, "but I have a hell of a lot more than five slips of paper explaining the severe anxiety I just so happen to suffer from."
The remark burns in Gale's stomach and he should just apologize, but his pride gets in the way. "That shit's all in your head," he mutters.
"Well, that makes sense, considering it's a mental condition," Madge stresses loud enough for people to look, but no one does. She gets up, turning to Katniss. "I'll talk to you later, Katniss," she says. "Come find me when you're not busy."
. . .
Gale walks Katniss home later that night, neither one of them talking, but both of them thinking about how Gale purposely didn't say goodbye to Madge. He regrets what he said, but he doesn't beat himself up for it now. He'll have lots of time for that later.
Mrs. Everdeen and Prim say goodbye to Gale and walk inside, smelling of smoke and grinning tiredly. But Katniss doesn't follow. As soon as the door shuts, she turns toward her friend, resuming the same stance she'd had earlier in the afternoon.
"Things were going so well," she says shortly. "Things were going so well and you had to go and ruin it."
"Give me a break," Gale runs his hand over his face, exhausted. "I feel bad enough already."
"And you deserve it," Katniss' gaze is cold. "When will you learn that just because someone isn't starving it doesn't mean that they're living on cloud nine? Get over yourself." With that, Katniss enters her home, shutting the door as defiantly as she can without slamming it.
That makes two people that he didn't say goodnight to.
. . .
It's been two weeks on the dot and Gale is again on Madge's doorstep. He swallows nervously, clutching the handle of the basket in his hands. He expects the standoffish maid to answer the door again, but his heart nearly stops when Madge does instead.
"What are you doing here?" she asks immediately, though her tone isn't as sharp as could be.
"I wanted to apologize," he says softly. "Madge, I'm...I'm sorry."
She crosses her arms, not accepting the apology but not quite ignoring it, either. "What's that?" she asks, staring at the basket he's holding.
"Oh, I, uh," he stutters, holding it up to her. "It's...they're for you."
Her lips part a little as she takes it from him, removing the cloth laid over the top. "Oh my goodness," she gasps quietly. "Strawberries."
"Yeah," he sighs shakily. "You...you like them, right?" He sure hopes she likes them as much as he'd thought; it took him forever to find only the best berries, ones that weren't sour or claimed by insects.
"Yeah," she looks up at him, smiling just a little. "They're my favorite, actually. Thank you." Gale doesn't know how much she wants to hug him at this moment, but if he did, he'd accept the embrace readily. "Where'd you get them?"
"The woods," he says quietly. He doesn't know if there are cameras out here or something, voice recorders, anything like that - it is the mayor's house, after all. But Madge's eyes widen in the best way. "That's amazing!" she tells him. "I've always wanted to go out there."
"It's pretty nice," Gale shrugs, almost offering to take her across the fence sometime, but he decides against it. This is just an apology, nothing more, nothing less.
"Well, thanks," she smiles, wider this time. "I appreciate it. And, um, don't worry about it."
"Is it bad?" he suddenly asks. "The anxiety?"
She takes a moment before answering, obviously caught off guard. Gale scolds himself before she answers. "Don't worry about it," she repeats again. "Thanks, Gale." She grins, and Gale doesn't pick up how forced it is. Even if he knew, he's not sure he'd care.
He walks away with a warm glowing inside, of equal parts regret and equal parts joy.
. . .
A/N: I've been lacking inspiration for FTFNP so I decided to start on this. Dang plot bunnies. I did mention another mini story formatted like this before, but I had a different one in mind then, an AU. This isn't really AU, only a tiny bit. So eventually I'll upload the other one, too, but I hope you like this one. I worked hard on it. Not sure when the next chapter will be uploaded but hopefully this weekend or sometime during next week. Reviews extremely appreciated! Thanks for reading! xo
