the next will never come (part 13/?, hunger games, r)
the next will never come
"It means I'm done. It means I'm free. It means I'll live."
katniss/peeta, katniss/gale, au, r. katniss makes it through her final reaping. part 13 of ?
The Hawthornes invite us over to watch the interviews on Saturday night, but Prim wants to stay at home. It’s just as well; somehow I feel that if Gale were to see me tonight, he’d know that I spent the whole day with my mind on someone else.
The segments for each tribute air in numerical order, meaning Astrid is last. Most years Prim falls asleep before they even get to the end. Then again, most years the District 12 tributes are long gone by this point in the Games.
Prim sits sandwiched on the couch between Mother and I, shaking her leg with nerves as the parents and siblings and friends and teachers of the other tributes make their plea for their loved ones. I’m nervous, too, but I know I have to be steady for her, so I hold her hand tight and hope that it’s soothing rather than suffocating.
Finally, finally, we reach Astrid.
Her parents speak first. Her mother looks just like an older version of Astrid: pale skin, soft brown hair, brown eyes. Somewhere beneath the exhaustion and stress, she’s pretty. Her father is a thin, reedy blonde man, his own brown eyes wet and permanently rimmed with red.
Their interview is like all the other parents’ - we love her, we’re so proud of her, we know she’s coming home - but with a lot less confidence than the mothers and fathers of the Careers. Until the interviewer brings up Prim, that is.
Mr. Mullen’s jaw grows hard and he looks away from the camera, leaving his wife to answer the question. She sighs, taking a moment to gather her words.
“Our Astrid has always been so loving, with all of her friends,” she says carefully. “And Primrose is a…a dear, dear friend. It’s a shame that so many people have misinterpreted what’s a…very close, innocent friendship.”
The screen cuts abruptly to an interview with Astrid’s older brother.
I look at Prim. Her forehead is creased into a deep frown, mouth turned down at the corners, hands balled into fists in her lap. “Prim,” I start, but I don’t know what else to say.
She takes a deep breath, staring at the screen. “It’s okay,” she says faintly. “We knew they would be like this. That’s why we kept it a secret.” My mother slides her arm around Prim’s back, hugging her to her side, and Prim relaxes a bit, resting her head on Mother’s shoulder.
We hear from Astrid’s brother, her childhood friend, her favorite teacher at school. Prim’s interview is the very last to air, and I wonder just how much the Capitol audiences have been clamoring to hear from her, this mystery girl from District 12. There’s nothing random about the way they structure these viewings. It’s all deliberately designed to keep people on the edge of their seats for as long as possible.
The camera is angled towards Prim from the side, so it looks like she’s talking to someone offscreen. Her makeup had looked heavy to me in person, but onscreen it’s hardly noticeable - her skin appears healthy and glowing, her eyes wide and bright.
“Um, I met Astrid in science class last year,” she begins. “I mean, I noticed her before then at school. But we never talked.” A faint blush creeps over her cheeks. “So we were assigned to be partners in science class, and I was excited about it, but I couldn’t figure out why. And it turned out that we really liked each other. And I guess now…now I just wish I’d known sooner.”
Known what? Effie’s voice prompts her softly.
“That I love her,” Prim whispers, tears pooling in her eyes. She looks down at her hands and the camera moves in closer, filling the frame with her face. It’s invasive, and I reach for Prim instinctively, as though I could shield her now from the camera’s prying gaze. But it lingers on, laying my sister open for all the world to see.
The words ring in my ears. I love her.
She loves her.
She’s just admitted it to all of District 12, to all of Panem - to herself.
But I shouldn’t be surprised. Prim’s been showing unexpected strength for weeks now.
The rest of the interview is what I already witnessed in our living room the other day - Prim’s favorite things about Astrid, and why they’ll help her win the Games. The program closes out with a few words from Caesar Flickerman, and then we’re back to the arena. It’s nighttime there, and quiet, though there’s no telling how long that will stay true.
The three of us are silent, each lost in our own thoughts. Prim’s face is calm. I can’t even imagine what’s running through her head right now.
A hot wave of anger scorches through me as Mrs. Mullen’s words suddenly replay in my mind. A dear friendship? She’s never even met Prim, as far as I know, and to act as though a relationship with my sister is something to be ashamed of - it infuriates me.
“It’s good,” Prim says suddenly, seeming to read my thoughts before I could even get them out. “This thing with her mom. It’s conflict, it makes her interesting. They’ll…they’ll want to see what happens, when she gets home. Who she chooses.”
She’s right, I realize immediately. It’s not even far-fetched - the Capitol engineers drama like this all the time. Maybe Effie Trinket really does know what she’s doing.
“I think…I’d like some time to myself,” Prim continues, looking at me. “Can you give me an hour before bed?”
“Of course. Take as long as you need.” I’d sleep on the couch all night if she asked me to.
Once Prim has left the room, I turn to my mother. “What do you think?”
She sighs. “I’m not surprised by Else’s reaction,” she says. “But I think Prim’s right, the conflict probably can’t hurt.”
“Else?” I repeat. “Is that her mom?”
Mother nods. “We knew each other,” she says simply. She’s never liked to talk about her life before marrying my father, not even before he died.
“Is it because she’s a girl, or because she’s a Seam girl?” I wonder aloud.
“For Else?” She pauses for a moment. “Probably both.” She stands and fixes me with a look. “Now, this dinner with Gale tomorrow night. You’re going to go catch something tomorrow for me to cook?”
Oops. I’d entirely forgotten about my invitation to Gale, and I hadn’t told him that I was off work this Sunday and free to go hunting like we usually do. “Yeah,” I say, yawning. “I’ll catch us something.”
---
When I wake the next morning, I’m laying along the couch, a thin blanket tucked around my legs. I guess I’d fallen asleep before Prim’s hour was up, after all. I stretch, groaning as my back muscles scream in protest.
A tinkling noise sounds from the television, signaling a sponsor gift somewhere in the arena. I roll my eyes and fumble for the remote. I don’t need to see another Career rewarded with some vicious new weapon from a rich, slobbering fan.
Just as I’m about to click the tv off, I stop. My mind goes blank for a long moment as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. That’s not a gift for a Career.
That’s a gift for Astrid.
“Prim!” I shout excitedly, jumping to my feet. “Prim, get out here! Hurry!”
There’s a loud thud from the bedroom, and she stumbles into the living room, eyes still bleary from sleep. “What? What happened?”
“Astrid got a sponsor gift!” I exclaim, gesturing wildly at the television. It’s unlike me, but this is the first unequivocally good thing that’s happened since Reaping Day. It feels incredible to just be happy about something for once, instead of conflicted and confused.
Prim shrieks in response and flings herself into my arms, and I laugh as she hops up and down. Mother finds us like that a few minutes later, blinking in bewilderment. “What did I miss?”
“Astrid got a sponsor gift,” Prim tells her breathlessly, pointing to the screen. “Look.”
Astrid looks just as overcome as we do, tears leaking from her eyes. The gift is a small loaf of bread - this late in the Games, even the simplest gifts cost a fortune - but it means so much more than an extra day or two’s sustenance.
It means someone out there is rooting for her.
---
I wait until lunchtime to head into the woods, knowing Gale prefers to hunt in the early morning. He’ll just be upset if he finds out we had the chance to spend more time together and didn’t take advantage of it. I shoot the first two rabbits I see and rush back home, helping my mother skin the carcasses as Prim flutters around us, covering her eyes and squealing when the blood becomes too much for her.
The high we all feel from Astrid’s sponsor gift stays with us through the evening, and dinner with Gale is relaxed and fun. In between bites of roast rabbit we tag-team telling stories about funny things that have happened in the forest, and Gale’s impression of a rabid squirrel makes Prim laugh so hard she nearly chokes on her food.
It’s the best night I’ve had in months, maybe years, and I can’t hide my disappointment when Prim announces she’s going to bed. “Oh, but we’re having so much fun, Primmy!” I wheedle, swinging her hand in mine, pulling out the old nickname I’d used for her when we were very young.
She giggles, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I know, but I’m sleepy,” she says, smiling apologetically. Her eyes dart between Gale and I knowingly. “Besides, the fun doesn’t have to end without me.”
I blush. That’s true, I guess, though she obviously means a different kind of fun. Prim bids us goodnight and I slump back in my seat, my mood abruptly deflated.
Gale stands up from the table, stacking my empty plate on top of his own. “Dinner was incredible, Iris, thank you,” he says, carrying the dishes over to the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”
I don’t even hear my mother’s response; I’m too startled. Since when is my mother Iris? Gale’s always called her Mrs. Everdeen. I’ve been calling his mother Hazelle all my life, but my mother - she’s not a first-name-basis kind of woman.
I sit up straighter and see Gale looking at me expectantly. He must have asked me a question. “What?”
“I said, do you want to go for a walk,” he answers, looking amused.
“Oh. Um, sure. Mother?”
“Go on,” she says lightly, waving a soapy hand in my direction. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Gale takes my hand the moment we step outside, and leads me to the right, in the direction of the meadow and the woods. “That was great,” he says after we’ve walked a few minutes in comfortable silence.
“It was,” I agree, though a part of me wishes dinner hadn’t ended so soon, that we were all still happy and laughing around the small kitchen table. It had felt right - the whole day had felt right. Almost like it was back in the days before the accident that claimed my father’s life.
“I really love your family,” he says, looking at me meaningfully. Because he wants to be a part of it, I realize. He wants to belong at that kitchen table someday. Not as my best friend, or even my boyfriend. As my husband.
I’m not ready for a conversation like that, though, so I stop it from progressing the only way I know how: I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss him.
Gale makes a noise of surprise - I almost never initiate kisses - and slips his hands around my waist, pulling me closer.
The kiss is like all the others we’ve shared - perfectly nice, but nothing that stirs anything deeper within me. I’m just not a kissing person, I’ve come to realize. I like it when Gale hugs me, and there’s an undeniable pleasure that I feel whenever his hands start to drift to the more sensitive parts of my body. But the kisses themselves…they’re just lips touching lips, tongue brushing tongue.
My mind wanders as I think of ways to describe the kiss. Wet. Warm. Slippery. Slick.
I wonder what it’s like to kiss Peeta.
The thought is so startling, so random, that my lips go slack against Gale’s. He tries to keep the kiss going for a few seconds, then pulls back. “Something wrong?”
“Um.” Nothing at all; just another boy popping into my head while you’re kissing me. “No. I’m just, I’m tired, I guess.”
Gale sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a small step back. I recognize the movement - he does it when he’s frustrated. “You know, Katniss…if you aren’t ready for a physical relationship right now, you should tell me.”
I gape at him.
“Look, I thought - when you told me you wanted to be with me, I thought you meant…in all the ways that two people can…be together,” he continues. “I mean, you seemed fine with it that night.”
My face grows hot at the memory. I’d let him slip his hand up under my shirt that night, though I’d gently guided it back down when his fingers had started to fumble at the clasp of my bra. If he took that as a sign that I wanted to have sex, well. It wasn’t.
“I - I’m not ready to have sex with you, Gale,” I manage to choke out. “If you thought -“
“No, no, no,” he groans, bringing his hands to his head. “I don’t mean sex. I’m not trying to pressure you, Catnip. I just mean - when I kiss you, sometimes it’s like you’re not even there.”
I can’t comprehend what he’s trying to say. We kiss all the time; what is the problem? “I’m right here,” I say testily, shaking my head. “You’re not making sense.”
“I mean it’s like…it’s like your mind is a million miles away,” he sighs, pacing in front of me. Gale only gets restless like this when he’s truly upset about something. Right now, something is clearly me. “You’re not with me when we’re together. You’re thinking about something else.”
Panic rises tight in my throat - does he know what I just thought about Peeta? - but no, that’s impossible. Gale’s not a mindreader. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a good enough kisser for you,” I snap. “I wasn’t at the slag heap every other day with a new conquest.”
He freezes, eyes locked on mine.
I regret my words immediately, but it’s too late. The look he gives me is like a punch in the gut. “Gale, I -“
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I kissed a lot of girls. I even did a little more with some of them. And every time, I was thinking aboutyou. But I guess it’s too much to ask that now that I’m here with you, you do the same for me.”
“Gale -“ I clutch at his arm in desperation, but he shrugs it off, stepping back.
“I’ll see you around, Katniss,” he says dully, and disappears into the night.
Hello!
As usual, apologies that this chapter took so long to get out. Shit's been busy, I guess. Luckily I have almost 2 weeks off later this month, though, and I'm hoping to get several chapters done during that time so updates can be a little more regular!
Thanks so much for sticking with me, and for all your wonderful comments - hope you enjoy!
"It means I'm done. It means I'm free. It means I'll live."
katniss/peeta, katniss/gale, au, r. katniss makes it through her final reaping. part 13 of ?
The Hawthornes invite us over to watch the interviews on Saturday night, but Prim wants to stay at home. It’s just as well; somehow I feel that if Gale were to see me tonight, he’d know that I spent the whole day with my mind on someone else.
The segments for each tribute air in numerical order, meaning Astrid is last. Most years Prim falls asleep before they even get to the end. Then again, most years the District 12 tributes are long gone by this point in the Games.
Prim sits sandwiched on the couch between Mother and I, shaking her leg with nerves as the parents and siblings and friends and teachers of the other tributes make their plea for their loved ones. I’m nervous, too, but I know I have to be steady for her, so I hold her hand tight and hope that it’s soothing rather than suffocating.
Finally, finally, we reach Astrid.
Her parents speak first. Her mother looks just like an older version of Astrid: pale skin, soft brown hair, brown eyes. Somewhere beneath the exhaustion and stress, she’s pretty. Her father is a thin, reedy blonde man, his own brown eyes wet and permanently rimmed with red.
Their interview is like all the other parents’ - we love her, we’re so proud of her, we know she’s coming home - but with a lot less confidence than the mothers and fathers of the Careers. Until the interviewer brings up Prim, that is.
Mr. Mullen’s jaw grows hard and he looks away from the camera, leaving his wife to answer the question. She sighs, taking a moment to gather her words.
“Our Astrid has always been so loving, with all of her friends,” she says carefully. “And Primrose is a…a dear, dear friend. It’s a shame that so many people have misinterpreted what’s a…very close, innocent friendship.”
The screen cuts abruptly to an interview with Astrid’s older brother.
I look at Prim. Her forehead is creased into a deep frown, mouth turned down at the corners, hands balled into fists in her lap. “Prim,” I start, but I don’t know what else to say.
She takes a deep breath, staring at the screen. “It’s okay,” she says faintly. “We knew they would be like this. That’s why we kept it a secret.” My mother slides her arm around Prim’s back, hugging her to her side, and Prim relaxes a bit, resting her head on Mother’s shoulder.
We hear from Astrid’s brother, her childhood friend, her favorite teacher at school. Prim’s interview is the very last to air, and I wonder just how much the Capitol audiences have been clamoring to hear from her, this mystery girl from District 12. There’s nothing random about the way they structure these viewings. It’s all deliberately designed to keep people on the edge of their seats for as long as possible.
The camera is angled towards Prim from the side, so it looks like she’s talking to someone offscreen. Her makeup had looked heavy to me in person, but onscreen it’s hardly noticeable - her skin appears healthy and glowing, her eyes wide and bright.
“Um, I met Astrid in science class last year,” she begins. “I mean, I noticed her before then at school. But we never talked.” A faint blush creeps over her cheeks. “So we were assigned to be partners in science class, and I was excited about it, but I couldn’t figure out why. And it turned out that we really liked each other. And I guess now…now I just wish I’d known sooner.”
Known what? Effie’s voice prompts her softly.
“That I love her,” Prim whispers, tears pooling in her eyes. She looks down at her hands and the camera moves in closer, filling the frame with her face. It’s invasive, and I reach for Prim instinctively, as though I could shield her now from the camera’s prying gaze. But it lingers on, laying my sister open for all the world to see.
The words ring in my ears. I love her.
She loves her.
She’s just admitted it to all of District 12, to all of Panem - to herself.
But I shouldn’t be surprised. Prim’s been showing unexpected strength for weeks now.
The rest of the interview is what I already witnessed in our living room the other day - Prim’s favorite things about Astrid, and why they’ll help her win the Games. The program closes out with a few words from Caesar Flickerman, and then we’re back to the arena. It’s nighttime there, and quiet, though there’s no telling how long that will stay true.
The three of us are silent, each lost in our own thoughts. Prim’s face is calm. I can’t even imagine what’s running through her head right now.
A hot wave of anger scorches through me as Mrs. Mullen’s words suddenly replay in my mind. A dear friendship? She’s never even met Prim, as far as I know, and to act as though a relationship with my sister is something to be ashamed of - it infuriates me.
“It’s good,” Prim says suddenly, seeming to read my thoughts before I could even get them out. “This thing with her mom. It’s conflict, it makes her interesting. They’ll…they’ll want to see what happens, when she gets home. Who she chooses.”
She’s right, I realize immediately. It’s not even far-fetched - the Capitol engineers drama like this all the time. Maybe Effie Trinket really does know what she’s doing.
“I think…I’d like some time to myself,” Prim continues, looking at me. “Can you give me an hour before bed?”
“Of course. Take as long as you need.” I’d sleep on the couch all night if she asked me to.
Once Prim has left the room, I turn to my mother. “What do you think?”
She sighs. “I’m not surprised by Else’s reaction,” she says. “But I think Prim’s right, the conflict probably can’t hurt.”
“Else?” I repeat. “Is that her mom?”
Mother nods. “We knew each other,” she says simply. She’s never liked to talk about her life before marrying my father, not even before he died.
“Is it because she’s a girl, or because she’s a Seam girl?” I wonder aloud.
“For Else?” She pauses for a moment. “Probably both.” She stands and fixes me with a look. “Now, this dinner with Gale tomorrow night. You’re going to go catch something tomorrow for me to cook?”
Oops. I’d entirely forgotten about my invitation to Gale, and I hadn’t told him that I was off work this Sunday and free to go hunting like we usually do. “Yeah,” I say, yawning. “I’ll catch us something.”
---
When I wake the next morning, I’m laying along the couch, a thin blanket tucked around my legs. I guess I’d fallen asleep before Prim’s hour was up, after all. I stretch, groaning as my back muscles scream in protest.
A tinkling noise sounds from the television, signaling a sponsor gift somewhere in the arena. I roll my eyes and fumble for the remote. I don’t need to see another Career rewarded with some vicious new weapon from a rich, slobbering fan.
Just as I’m about to click the tv off, I stop. My mind goes blank for a long moment as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. That’s not a gift for a Career.
That’s a gift for Astrid.
“Prim!” I shout excitedly, jumping to my feet. “Prim, get out here! Hurry!”
There’s a loud thud from the bedroom, and she stumbles into the living room, eyes still bleary from sleep. “What? What happened?”
“Astrid got a sponsor gift!” I exclaim, gesturing wildly at the television. It’s unlike me, but this is the first unequivocally good thing that’s happened since Reaping Day. It feels incredible to just be happy about something for once, instead of conflicted and confused.
Prim shrieks in response and flings herself into my arms, and I laugh as she hops up and down. Mother finds us like that a few minutes later, blinking in bewilderment. “What did I miss?”
“Astrid got a sponsor gift,” Prim tells her breathlessly, pointing to the screen. “Look.”
Astrid looks just as overcome as we do, tears leaking from her eyes. The gift is a small loaf of bread - this late in the Games, even the simplest gifts cost a fortune - but it means so much more than an extra day or two’s sustenance.
It means someone out there is rooting for her.
---
I wait until lunchtime to head into the woods, knowing Gale prefers to hunt in the early morning. He’ll just be upset if he finds out we had the chance to spend more time together and didn’t take advantage of it. I shoot the first two rabbits I see and rush back home, helping my mother skin the carcasses as Prim flutters around us, covering her eyes and squealing when the blood becomes too much for her.
The high we all feel from Astrid’s sponsor gift stays with us through the evening, and dinner with Gale is relaxed and fun. In between bites of roast rabbit we tag-team telling stories about funny things that have happened in the forest, and Gale’s impression of a rabid squirrel makes Prim laugh so hard she nearly chokes on her food.
It’s the best night I’ve had in months, maybe years, and I can’t hide my disappointment when Prim announces she’s going to bed. “Oh, but we’re having so much fun, Primmy!” I wheedle, swinging her hand in mine, pulling out the old nickname I’d used for her when we were very young.
She giggles, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I know, but I’m sleepy,” she says, smiling apologetically. Her eyes dart between Gale and I knowingly. “Besides, the fun doesn’t have to end without me.”
I blush. That’s true, I guess, though she obviously means a different kind of fun. Prim bids us goodnight and I slump back in my seat, my mood abruptly deflated.
Gale stands up from the table, stacking my empty plate on top of his own. “Dinner was incredible, Iris, thank you,” he says, carrying the dishes over to the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”
I don’t even hear my mother’s response; I’m too startled. Since when is my mother Iris? Gale’s always called her Mrs. Everdeen. I’ve been calling his mother Hazelle all my life, but my mother - she’s not a first-name-basis kind of woman.
I sit up straighter and see Gale looking at me expectantly. He must have asked me a question. “What?”
“I said, do you want to go for a walk,” he answers, looking amused.
“Oh. Um, sure. Mother?”
“Go on,” she says lightly, waving a soapy hand in my direction. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Gale takes my hand the moment we step outside, and leads me to the right, in the direction of the meadow and the woods. “That was great,” he says after we’ve walked a few minutes in comfortable silence.
“It was,” I agree, though a part of me wishes dinner hadn’t ended so soon, that we were all still happy and laughing around the small kitchen table. It had felt right - the whole day had felt right. Almost like it was back in the days before the accident that claimed my father’s life.
“I really love your family,” he says, looking at me meaningfully. Because he wants to be a part of it, I realize. He wants to belong at that kitchen table someday. Not as my best friend, or even my boyfriend. As my husband.
I’m not ready for a conversation like that, though, so I stop it from progressing the only way I know how: I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss him.
Gale makes a noise of surprise - I almost never initiate kisses - and slips his hands around my waist, pulling me closer.
The kiss is like all the others we’ve shared - perfectly nice, but nothing that stirs anything deeper within me. I’m just not a kissing person, I’ve come to realize. I like it when Gale hugs me, and there’s an undeniable pleasure that I feel whenever his hands start to drift to the more sensitive parts of my body. But the kisses themselves…they’re just lips touching lips, tongue brushing tongue.
My mind wanders as I think of ways to describe the kiss. Wet. Warm. Slippery. Slick.
I wonder what it’s like to kiss Peeta.
The thought is so startling, so random, that my lips go slack against Gale’s. He tries to keep the kiss going for a few seconds, then pulls back. “Something wrong?”
“Um.” Nothing at all; just another boy popping into my head while you’re kissing me. “No. I’m just, I’m tired, I guess.”
Gale sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a small step back. I recognize the movement - he does it when he’s frustrated. “You know, Katniss…if you aren’t ready for a physical relationship right now, you should tell me.”
I gape at him.
“Look, I thought - when you told me you wanted to be with me, I thought you meant…in all the ways that two people can…be together,” he continues. “I mean, you seemed fine with it that night.”
My face grows hot at the memory. I’d let him slip his hand up under my shirt that night, though I’d gently guided it back down when his fingers had started to fumble at the clasp of my bra. If he took that as a sign that I wanted to have sex, well. It wasn’t.
“I - I’m not ready to have sex with you, Gale,” I manage to choke out. “If you thought -“
“No, no, no,” he groans, bringing his hands to his head. “I don’t mean sex. I’m not trying to pressure you, Catnip. I just mean - when I kiss you, sometimes it’s like you’re not even there.”
I can’t comprehend what he’s trying to say. We kiss all the time; what is the problem? “I’m right here,” I say testily, shaking my head. “You’re not making sense.”
“I mean it’s like…it’s like your mind is a million miles away,” he sighs, pacing in front of me. Gale only gets restless like this when he’s truly upset about something. Right now, something is clearly me. “You’re not with me when we’re together. You’re thinking about something else.”
Panic rises tight in my throat - does he know what I just thought about Peeta? - but no, that’s impossible. Gale’s not a mindreader. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a good enough kisser for you,” I snap. “I wasn’t at the slag heap every other day with a new conquest.”
He freezes, eyes locked on mine.
I regret my words immediately, but it’s too late. The look he gives me is like a punch in the gut. “Gale, I -“
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I kissed a lot of girls. I even did a little more with some of them. And every time, I was thinking aboutyou. But I guess it’s too much to ask that now that I’m here with you, you do the same for me.”
“Gale -“ I clutch at his arm in desperation, but he shrugs it off, stepping back.
“I’ll see you around, Katniss,” he says dully, and disappears into the night.
Hello!
As usual, apologies that this chapter took so long to get out. Shit's been busy, I guess. Luckily I have almost 2 weeks off later this month, though, and I'm hoping to get several chapters done during that time so updates can be a little more regular!
Thanks so much for sticking with me, and for all your wonderful comments - hope you enjoy!