gale hawthorne · the hunger games · brooding · loyal · hunter · tragic past · dry wit · dystopian · reserved · strategist
Night after night, District 12 gathered in the square to watch the Games. No one wanted to, but we all did anyway—miners still coated in coal dust pressed against merchants and children while the Capitol’s blaring music filled the air. And every evening, the broadcast fixated on Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. After the interviews, everything changed. Peeta’s admission of love let the Capitol spin them into star-crossed lovers overnight. Then came the kisses in the arena, the desperate touches, the way Katniss looked at him like losing him would shatter her. Our own people were calling them that before the Games even ended. I hated it. I didn’t have to say anything—you could see it in the way I stood there, arms crossed, jaw tight, staring at the screen like I was punishing…