The Hunger Games: Book Four - How it Might Have Been ... Gale.

Page Twenty-Seven

Katniss

I've kissed Gale only a handful of times in my life, most of those times being in the past few weeks, but everytime I feel his lips on mine, a feeling grows within me that I've never felt before. I've married Peeta, had children with him, but this is something entirely different.

Peeta was always the one to love me. It took me years to figure out if I really loved him, or if our relationship was just a result of the trauma of the Hunger Games, a survival technique. I thought I had it figured out the first time I held Oenothera in my arms. She was ours, together, and surely you had to love the other half of your child? 

We've been through so much, Peeta and I, from uncountable near death experiences to Rebellions to almost losing our minds and back again. It has taken a toll on us, sure - Peeta still loses it sometimes, and I deal with it. He always loved me so, so much more than I loved him... and now I think I know why I've felt that way.

I'm not a being incapable of human emotion, of loving someone back. My heart, though damaged from all the losses I've witnessed, is not beyond affection.

I'm kissing my best friend - a person who's been with me through everything in life. We've known each other since we were young and starving, living for our families, carrying the burden of their lives on our backs. Peeta never lived like that, in District Twelve. Sure, Gale may not have the experience of being in The Hunger Games in common with me, but maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe he's the rock I need, chipped, but not damaged, like Peeta. And when his cool lips touch mine, I can feel our friendship deep, deep down, under the core. I feel for him too, not like a brother, but something along the lines of it. All my life I've promised myself that I would throw myself in front of Gale was a bullet to touch him, and now I realize that that is an element of love too.

I'm in love with Gale Hawthorne.

And he loves me too.

But he doesn't put it out there as blantantly as Peeta does. Peeta's love for me is true, but maybe it's just a childhood crush that grew more and more. I could never match his level of love. But with Gale, it's natural.

I'm thinking all these deep thoughts, which is very unlike me, all while kissing Gale. He has his hand on my cheek now, his thumb slowly stroking across my cheekbone. He moves down to my neck and my eyelids flutter, and I supress a sigh because my kids are asleep not fifteen feet away from us.

"Katniss," Gale murmurs, and I'm not sure he knows he said it aloud. He pulls me onto his lap and his hand reaches up my back, twisting at the end of my braid. I imagine us in the forest, years ago, wondering if this is what it would have been like if Effie Trinket had reached just a little to her left that day at the Reaping, choosing some other unfortunate child's name. But then, Peeta would have died.

I feel a pang, and I wonder if he's dead now. I haven't seen him in what feels like years, and though his abscence is obvious to me, it's not a painful abscence. I'll admit I missed Gale, once I accepted the fact Prim was gone because of him. It was a hard fact to accept, but seeing how the guilt had racked him, how it may not have actually been his fault, how he set up a team to investigate her death... it touches me now. Would I miss Peeta, if he were gone? The kids would be inconsolable, yes, but they're so young... I knew so many children in District Twelve with only one parent.... Myself, in fact, I realize, grew up mostly without a father. They would survive. They would have a father figure.

I hate myself for thinking these traitorous thoughts... but I can't deny them. And if this is my chance, I must take it.

"I love you," I whisper, and Gale freezes, though not entirely, and looks at me. His head is bowed, and his hair falls forward. He looks the same as he always has, but more mature now, stronger but physically and emotionally. His eyes hold a question, and I think he's wondering if he imagined me saying it, so I say it again: "I love you, Gale."

A tiny, wry smile lights his lips. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you to say that... and mean it." He kisses me again, slowly. "I love you too."

Now when we kiss, it's like something has been lit inside us, something old that has been there forever but only acknowledged now. I feel younger and lighter, as if this has been a weight lifted off my shoulders. I love him. Now I feel like I can take on whatever's coming, as long as he's by my side. My best friend, my hunter.

Suddenly, the roof crashes in.