living is easy with eyes closed
Gale/Madge. 620 words.
Summary: She is still wearing her white dress.
Originally posted here.
She is still wearing her white dress. Gale sees her hours later, hours after the reaping, and she's still wearing it. It's a lace dress, the neckline scooping around her delicate collarbones and skirt flaring out like a little bell. It almost seems to shine against the drab landscape, the gray buildings and dusty streets. There isn't a mark on her, not on that white lace dress or her well-shaped white limbs or her pale pink shoes. Her blonde hair is thin and straight, held out of her blue eyes with a pink ribbon. Her hair is very yellow in the sunlight and so is the gold pin on her chest. Madge is the opposite of everything Katniss is and Gale hates her for that, for a minute.
"I'm so sorry," she says to Gale, and the irritating part is she actually seems to mean it.
"Sorry doesn't solve anything," he says gruffly.
Madge looks away, sunlight falling across her full cheeks. She does not seem to be starving.
Not long after, he brings her more strawberries. He does it with some thread of causeless defiance, reckless unspecified anger. He comes early to be inconvenient and Madge answers the door still yawning, her hair messy. She blinks, not having expected him. She is wearing her nightdress still, long and white with little pearlescent buttons in a straight line between her breasts.
Gale holds up the strawberries, not as bountiful as the last ones that came to her door. They're a little undersized and there are less of them, but Gale hopes she doesn't realize they're just an excuse. Katniss has been in the arena so long already.
"Oh, thank you," Madge says, accepting the berries. "We're not quite through the last ones."
Gale shrugs, cheeks burning.
Madge says, "Have you had breakfast? Would you like some?"
"Whatever," Gale says, but he means yes.
To his surprise, Madge steps outside, closing the door behind her. "I can pay you after," she offers, misreading his look, and Gale only shrugs again. Half of the backyard is paved with heavy stones and Madge goes to where they end to sit, her feet in the green grass. After a minute Gale follows. He'd already been to the Hob so his bags are mostly empty when he sets them down. He sits.
"Have you been watching?" Madge asks, holding the strawberries out to him. Gale takes one. "I can't. Sometimes I listen but I have to keep my eyes closed."
"That's fitting," Gale says. "I watch."
"I think she has a really good shot," Madge says. She speaks with easy certainty. "I think she'll win."
Gale's throat constricts just as he's swallowing so he chokes a little, which makes Madge look at him, her gaze softening with sympathy. It bothers him.
"She'll win," Madge says again. "I know it's not a consolation. But she's going to win."
Gale just eats another strawberry and doesn't answer. It's easy for her to make predictions and conclusions; she has no idea how the real world works.
Madge tries to swallow up his silence with conversation. "I feel so awful for all of them," she says. "And Peeta too. He's always been so nice. We had some classes together. I always liked him."
Gale purses his lips then, knowing he has no right to be resentful of Peeta but unable to turn off the feeling. For some reason that's what makes him do it, makes him put his hand on Madge's jaw and turn her roughly into a kiss. He's all tangled up inside, everything he feels is so wrong and inappropriate and he can't get any of it out of his head, he can't.
He releases her as quick as he'd grabbed her, embarrassed and sorry. Madge must be surprised, but he doesn't look at her to check. An apology is on his lips but before it can leave his mouth Madge kisses him again. She kisses him back.
The strawberries spill between them, get crushed under their hands and thighs. Madge is solid and small pressed against Gale and for some reason he thinks of hugging Katniss when they said goodbye, the way Katniss' entire body had leaned into his.
Gale pulls away. "Sorry," he says, "I shouldn't –" And he moves to gather up his bags, get to his feet.
"It's alright," Madge says faintly, the lilt of uncertainty in her voice.
When Gale looks back at her, just once, he sees her gown stained watery red with crushed strawberries, and five deep pink marks from his fingers on the waist of her white dress.
Gale/Madge. 620 words.
Summary: She is still wearing her white dress.
Originally posted here.
She is still wearing her white dress. Gale sees her hours later, hours after the reaping, and she's still wearing it. It's a lace dress, the neckline scooping around her delicate collarbones and skirt flaring out like a little bell. It almost seems to shine against the drab landscape, the gray buildings and dusty streets. There isn't a mark on her, not on that white lace dress or her well-shaped white limbs or her pale pink shoes. Her blonde hair is thin and straight, held out of her blue eyes with a pink ribbon. Her hair is very yellow in the sunlight and so is the gold pin on her chest. Madge is the opposite of everything Katniss is and Gale hates her for that, for a minute.
"I'm so sorry," she says to Gale, and the irritating part is she actually seems to mean it.
"Sorry doesn't solve anything," he says gruffly.
Madge looks away, sunlight falling across her full cheeks. She does not seem to be starving.
Not long after, he brings her more strawberries. He does it with some thread of causeless defiance, reckless unspecified anger. He comes early to be inconvenient and Madge answers the door still yawning, her hair messy. She blinks, not having expected him. She is wearing her nightdress still, long and white with little pearlescent buttons in a straight line between her breasts.
Gale holds up the strawberries, not as bountiful as the last ones that came to her door. They're a little undersized and there are less of them, but Gale hopes she doesn't realize they're just an excuse. Katniss has been in the arena so long already.
"Oh, thank you," Madge says, accepting the berries. "We're not quite through the last ones."
Gale shrugs, cheeks burning.
Madge says, "Have you had breakfast? Would you like some?"
"Whatever," Gale says, but he means yes.
To his surprise, Madge steps outside, closing the door behind her. "I can pay you after," she offers, misreading his look, and Gale only shrugs again. Half of the backyard is paved with heavy stones and Madge goes to where they end to sit, her feet in the green grass. After a minute Gale follows. He'd already been to the Hob so his bags are mostly empty when he sets them down. He sits.
"Have you been watching?" Madge asks, holding the strawberries out to him. Gale takes one. "I can't. Sometimes I listen but I have to keep my eyes closed."
"That's fitting," Gale says. "I watch."
"I think she has a really good shot," Madge says. She speaks with easy certainty. "I think she'll win."
Gale's throat constricts just as he's swallowing so he chokes a little, which makes Madge look at him, her gaze softening with sympathy. It bothers him.
"She'll win," Madge says again. "I know it's not a consolation. But she's going to win."
Gale just eats another strawberry and doesn't answer. It's easy for her to make predictions and conclusions; she has no idea how the real world works.
Madge tries to swallow up his silence with conversation. "I feel so awful for all of them," she says. "And Peeta too. He's always been so nice. We had some classes together. I always liked him."
Gale purses his lips then, knowing he has no right to be resentful of Peeta but unable to turn off the feeling. For some reason that's what makes him do it, makes him put his hand on Madge's jaw and turn her roughly into a kiss. He's all tangled up inside, everything he feels is so wrong and inappropriate and he can't get any of it out of his head, he can't.
He releases her as quick as he'd grabbed her, embarrassed and sorry. Madge must be surprised, but he doesn't look at her to check. An apology is on his lips but before it can leave his mouth Madge kisses him again. She kisses him back.
The strawberries spill between them, get crushed under their hands and thighs. Madge is solid and small pressed against Gale and for some reason he thinks of hugging Katniss when they said goodbye, the way Katniss' entire body had leaned into his.
Gale pulls away. "Sorry," he says, "I shouldn't –" And he moves to gather up his bags, get to his feet.
"It's alright," Madge says faintly, the lilt of uncertainty in her voice.
When Gale looks back at her, just once, he sees her gown stained watery red with crushed strawberries, and five deep pink marks from his fingers on the waist of her white dress.