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Peeta could still remember the first time he ever really noticed Gale Hawthorne. It was one of the few memories from District 12 that the Capitol hadn’t managed to get a hold of and corrupt, which was surprising, given how prominently Katniss figured in it. But there must have been some part of him that felt the need to protect it, that knew enough to file it away deep in the recesses of his brain—so deep that they would never be able to reach it or even be aware of its existence.
Now, there were times when it would rise up to the surface of its own accord, taunting him every bit as much as those tainted memories the Capitol had implanted in him. Maybe he was wrong—maybe they’d known about this particular memory after all, known how well it could still knife into him, despite all the time that had passed since then. And maybe that had been their plan all along.
Gale had been all of fourteen when Peeta first saw him. Tall and long-limbed, his dark hair just long enough to fall into his eyes in that careless way that hinted of a budding rebel, even back then. His skin had seen plenty of sun; it was almost golden, if it hadn’t been for the deep olive undertone that muted it. He’d clearly spent plenty of time outdoors—in all of the places Peeta’s parents had deemed too dangerous for him and his brothers to be roaming around in freely—and Peeta remembered feeling that twinge of envy at the sight of him, at the relative freedom Gale so obviously enjoyed.
And the girl who seemed to be inseparable from him.
Katniss didn’t speak much when she came into the bakery with him that first time to sell their game. It was Gale who did the negotiating, Gale who pointed out the accuracy of Katniss’s shot, Gale who pushed for the extra cheese bun or two in return, although Peeta knew full well that his father would have gladly given them to her regardless, as an extra bit of kindness for Mrs. Everdeen’s daughter. He remembered thinking then how he didn’t have a prayer of competing with someone like Gale, who he could only guess would have little regard for all of the rules that Peeta had always been so careful to follow, who displayed a certain resourcefulness, an instinct for survival that was hard not to admire, and who shared a kind of shorthand with Katniss that Peeta would have given just about anything to have.
But that was all before the Hunger Games came along and changed everything. For all of them.
Peeta waited a minute or two before knocking again. He’d double-checked the address—and checked it again, even after that. He was sure this was the right place, all right, but he supposed Gale could have easily seen him through the peephole and just decided that he wasn’t going to let Peeta in. It was entirely possible he’d do that; Peeta had known full well before setting off for this place there was a chance that would happen—a good chance, in fact. This entire thing was nothing but a leap of faith to begin with, but he figured it was worth the risk to attempt it. After all, he’d come all this way. Surely—surely—that gesture would mean something to Gale. Even if Peeta was the last person he’d want to see right now. Or ever.
It took a third knock before Peeta finally heard a click on the other side of the door, heard the heavy bolt slide out of place before the door swung open, and Gale appeared behind it, leaning his forearm against the doorframe. If he was surprised to see Peeta, he didn’t show it. Gale couldn’t have been expecting him, of course, but his eyes registered no emotion regardless, only a cool steel gray staring back at Peeta, hardened and showing no ounce of give whatsoever. The eyes of a hunter.
Or someone who’d had his fair share of pain and wasn’t about to let anyone else in on that anguish. Least of all, the one who’d caused it.
His eyes flitted down to the card that Peeta was clutching in his hand. “If you came here to get me to change my mind, you wasted a trip.”
Peeta sighed, looking down at the card, where Gale had hastily checked the box next to Regrets only. Without looking up, he said, “She hasn’t seen this yet.”
“So you intercepted it?”
“I thought it would be a good idea to hold on to it before giving it to her. Just in case you changed your answer and I wouldn’t have to.”
Gale pressed his lips together in a taut line. “Then you’ll be holding on to that thing for a while,” he said. “But I guess she’ll figure it out soon enough when I don’t turn up.”
“I’m kind of hoping it doesn’t come to that.”
Gale let out a laugh that sounded harsh. Indignant. He’d probably expected Peeta to turn away by now.
Peeta looked up at him, attempting a smile that he hoped would disarm Gale, if only for a little bit. “Aren’t you even going to invite me in? You know, I did just travel a few thousand miles to come talk to you.”
“By all means, make yourself at home.”
He stepped aside to let Peeta come through. It was a small apartment, with a single bedroom that was just barely visible from here, and a living room that opened into a cramped kitchen. The only obvious separation between the two sections came from the way the dingy gray-green carpet ended abruptly and transitioned into linoleum that was beginning to buckle from water damage. Gale had kept the walls in their original drab white, but nothing hung on them—no artwork, no photographs from home, no special memento or keepsake to be found anywhere. And aside from the small couch and a desk that probably doubled as a dining table, there wasn’t much furniture in here at all. It was as though Gale hadn’t put any kind of visible effort into making this to be anything more than just a functional living space.
“Do you want anything?”
The edge that had been in his voice earlier had now dulled a bit. The open hostility seemed to have fallen off, giving way to a kind of resignation. When Peeta turned to look at him, he saw that Gale was leaning against the kitchen counter, eying him. Probably wondering what Peeta made of his quarters.
“No, thanks. I’m all right.”
He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say at least a hundred times leading up to this moment, but now that he was here, the words seemed to be getting stuck in his throat, jamming in there until they were pushed back down again, dying along the way. There was simply no way to make this easy.
“So what did you tell Katniss?” Gale said, after some time. “I’m guessing you didn’t just come out and say that you were coming to see me and talk me out of skipping out on your big day.”
“I told her I had to take care of something for a surprise I was planning for her. For the wedding.”
“I have a feeling I’m not what she would have in mind for a wedding surprise,” Gale said. “Look, I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing. I’m still not going.”
“I know things have been strained between you two-”
Gale sputtered out a laugh of disbelief. “Strained? Is that your word for it?”
“Maybe this is exactly what both of you need. To get past what’s happened.”
“To get past what’s happened…” Gale said each word carefully, as though feeling the weight of each one. As though letting them drop to the floor to see where they would land. “You mean her thinking I killed her sister.”
“You couldn’t have known what would happen-”
“I knew exactly what was going to happen,” he said. “I built those bombs because I wanted people to die, Peeta. I wanted the enemy to die. I wanted this war over and done with, and we needed a crushing blow. And I knew this would do it.”
He brought a hand up to the counter and started fingering at a dent in the formica, where a piece had been chipped away. Silence stretched between them, and Peeta wracked his brain for a way to fill it. But he couldn’t think of anything. For once, he was coming up empty.
“Why are you even here?” Gale said. “Shouldn’t you be happy I’m not going to be there?”
“You’re her best friend.”
“Was her best friend.”
The bitterness in his voice was hard to miss. It was also excruciating to hear. Peeta cringed inwardly at the sound of it, feeling it hit him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.
“Gale-”
“Don’t say it,” Gale said, cutting him off sharply. “Don’t. Let’s not kid ourselves, all right? I think we both know she’ll never forgive me for any of it. There’s no going back from here. She’s moved on. Obviously. I’ve moved on, too.”
Peeta shook his head. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“Believe what you want to believe.”
Maybe this was a lost cause after all. Maybe Gale was right—that this trip had been nothing but a waste of time. But Peeta couldn’t shake the image of Katniss’s face. The pain he would see in her eyes once she saw the card. Once she saw that Gale had decided to turn his back on her, on the most important day of her life. Peeta wasn’t about to let that happen, not without one last ditch effort.
“It’ll kill her if you don’t show.”
Gale’s voice was quiet when he answered, stripped of all bravado and show. And for the first time, Peeta saw a bit of himself in the hunter: the boy who knew all too well what it felt like to love Katniss Everdeen, and wonder if she would ever love him the way she loved the other.
“If I thought for one second that was true, I’d get on that train right now. I wouldn’t even wait for the wedding.”
“It is true,” Peeta said softly. “And if you don’t see that, then maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought you did.”
There was no hiding the fact that his words had stung Gale. Peeta watched him bring his arms to his chest, crossing them defiantly, then break the eye contact. “Finally, something we agree on,” he said.
So this was it. There would be no convincing him. And Peeta would have to be the one to break the news to Katniss. He let out a sigh and started to make his way to the door. “Well, I can’t force you to come,” he said. “I just thought… you know, that it was worth a shot. That maybe you’d want the chance to take back your answer.”
He held up the card. Gale stared at it blankly. The wall was back up. Peeta braced himself for the words that were about to come.
“I guess that’s the difference between the two of us,” Gale finally said. “I’m not as noble as you are. Because if our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t have bothered trying to get you to change your mind.”
He almost sounded convincing. Almost. But Peeta knew better. He recognized that pain in Gale’s voice. He knew it well, because it was the same pain he carried in him for so long. Pain at wondering whether Katniss would ever see him the way she saw Gale. Whether she had only chosen him because Gale hadn’t bothered to come back to 12. Whether there would always be a piece of her heart that he’d never be able to fill, because Gale would always occupy it.
“You must really love her,” Gale said quietly.
“I’m not the only one.”
Gale broke the gaze and looked down at the carpet, his toe stubbing at a patch that was particularly threadbare.
“Yeah, except I obviously didn’t love her in the way she needed,” he said. “Not in the way you could.” He raised his eyes again to look at Peeta. “Maybe that’s why I’m here and you’re the one who’ll be at the other end of that aisle. The one she’ll be walking towards.”
They were quiet for a long time, then Peeta said, “Will you come?”
Gale sighed. “What makes you so sure she’ll want me there?”
“I’m sure.”
He seemed unconvinced. Silence fell between them again, then Gale pushed himself off the counter and nodded towards the card in Peeta’s hand.
“Hand that thing over, would you?”
Peeta smiled and walked over to where he stood, holding out the card for him to take. Gale stared at it for a long time, running his finger across the embossed words. After a while, he let out a heavy exhale.
“Just take care of her, all right?” He looked up again. “Make sure she’s happy.”
“I will. I promise.”
* * *
She was still sleeping when he came in, her cheek pressed against his pillow, clutching it tightly in her arms. She stirred slightly when he lay down beside her, but didn’t wake all the way, only letting out a soft whimper until he reached down and placed a kiss on her temple. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting at first against the shards of early morning light that were poking through the curtains, then crinkled into a smile when she saw him.
“You’re back… Why didn’t you wake me?”
But she didn’t give him a chance to answer, instead drawing him into a kiss, her hands traveling up his jawline to tangle in his hair. He laughed in her mouth, easing off her to look at her again.
“Missed me?”
“Maybe a little,” she teased. The tiny dimples at the corners of her lips deepened. “All right, maybe more than a little.”
He reached up to brush a lock of hair off her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. “No nightmares?”
She came up to sitting and brought her knees up to her chest, then wrapped her arms around them. “No nightmares.”
“Good,” he said, patting her knee. She caught his hand and held it here, before bringing it to her face and pressing it against her cheek.
“Did you take care of whatever it was you needed to take care of?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Brought you back something.”
“My surprise? I thought it was for the wedding?”
“I’m giving it early,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
She gave him an intrigued smile, but didn’t argue. He took her hand and turned it so her palm faced up, then placed his gift right in the center of her hand, hearing her small intake of air when she felt it.
“All right, you can look.”
There were already tears in her eyes when she opened them. He knew she must have already guessed what it was that he was giving her before she ever saw it: her engagement ring. A pearl set in a simple band of gold.
She wasn’t much for jewelry, he knew. And she hadn’t asked for a ring, hadn’t really been expecting one, but he wanted to give her one anyway. He knew by the way his name came out in a gush of air that he’d gotten it right.
“Oh, Peeta…”
“I know it’s not the same pearl, but… I wanted some sort of reminder of it. So you could look down on this and remember the first one I gave you.”
“I could never forget it,” she said softly.
She formed a cradle for it with her hand, and her lips curved into a radiant smile as she gently ran her finger over the band of the ring. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” she said at last. “I would have been just as happy with a piece of day old bread in the fire.”
“I know. But I figured it was about time we did something the traditional way, don’t you think?”
She laughed. “I guess you have a point there.”
She watched as he picked the ring up from her palm and slid it over her finger, then turned her hand from side to side, as though examining how it looked from every angle—where it caught the light and where it didn’t, and how it felt around her finger. The snugness of it, the heft of it. The newness of it.
Softly, she said, “I love it, Peeta. I do.”
“I did good then, huh?”
“Very good.”
He smiled. Then Gale’s words came to him, swimming up out of the depths of his mind.
“Katniss...”
“Yeah?”
“Are you happy?”
She seemed surprised by the question, but gave him a smile anyway, and she didn’t hesitate with her answer.
“Yes.” After a long pause, she added, “I didn’t think I ever could be again. With everything that’s happened, I just thought… it just didn’t seem possible. But you proved me wrong.”
He returned her smile, then leaned forward to kiss her, silently thanking Gale for taking care of her all of those years. For giving her happiness, making her feel loved. And for letting her go now so she could be with him—truly be with him. Free from any regrets or ties to the past, longing for what might have been.
And he would keep his promise to keep her happy. Do everything in his power to make sure of it. Always.