THE MAN IN THE HANGING TREE | Gale Hawthorne

NINE - Strange Feelings

GALE'S POINT OF VIEW

I feel bad about shutting (y/n) out the past few days, she didn't deserve that kind of treatment. All she was doing, and continues to do, is try to make sure I'm alright. I'm eternally grateful for her kindness, and try to return it best I can.

But I just feel worthless compared to her, I'm just an asshole kid form the Seam, tainting her perfect town girl appearance. I'm poison to her, poison to her image. Regardless, she keeps coming back to me, and after she saw me crying, there's really nothing else I can hide from her.

(Y/n) saw me at my weakest moment, and she didn't turn away, she stayed and comforted me.

She stayed when I no longer had anyone, not caring where I came from or that I indeed was tainting her image. She doesn't care.

She helped me through my worst, and smiled with me at my best in these past few days. Through the ups and downs of the past week, (y/n) has been there.

She's been there for everything.

And even though it only has been a week, I'm being to feel something I've never felt before. It's a strange feeling, it makes my brain go haywire, it makes butterflies explode in my stomach, it makes me go weak in the knees and numb in my limbs.

It's an odd sensation, but I wonder, if possibly, she feels it too.

»»---------------------►

"Here you go." I say, dropping the the rabbit I just hunted and cleaned on the kitchen counter at the Everdeen house, cut in chunks for the meal we are preparing.

(Y/n) smiles at me, then turns back to the pot she is adding ingredients in to make a stew for the Everdeens. She adds the rabbit in, and soon enough it's ready for Prim and Mrs. Everdeen. Simple and easy for us, while providing a delicious diner for the family we promised to look after.

"Thank you two again, for everything." Mrs. Everdeen thanks us as we're about to leave, a large smile prevalent on her weary face.

"It's not a problem at all." (Y/n) assures her, hugging her on the way out the door.

And soon enough it's just the two of us, walking back to our houses, close beside each other.

I look over at (y/n), her (h/c) hair flowing in the breeze slightly, her (e/c) eyes catching the sun that slowly dips towards the horizon. It's a beautiful night for a stroll with the most beautiful girl I've ever met.

The back of our hands brush together as we walk, I smile at the slight touch. Then I do something that surprises even myself, I grab that hand that brushes mine.

Sure, we've held hands before, but only for comfort. This is different, this time my stomach once again flutters with butterflies-- the strange feeling is back.

(Y/n) doesn't pull away though, in fact she laces our fingers together. Her small hand seems to fit perfectly into my larger one, like they were molded to one day hold each other delicately.

"I like this." I say simply.

Her cheeks flush red, the corners of her perfect mouth turn upwards into a smile.

And in that moment, I know she must feel it too. She must feel whatever it is that is hanging between us, for her face holds all the answers I need to know. (Y/n) must feel the butterflies, she must feel the same cotton-headedness, for as she smiles her cheeks tint the prettiest sunset pink.