A/N: Because life's short. It's hard to write nowadays. (No muse, no muse.)


Let Me Pack My Dreams


Did I say that I loathe you?

Did I say that I want to

Leave it all behind?

The way he figures it, people eventually forget the people that were once part of their lives. Forgetting may not come thundering — it isn't supposed to be an overnight process — but it will. To some, the face is the first to go, the unexceptional features at least. To some, it will be the mannerisms and gestures. Little by little, the details that make up the essence of that person's involvement in someone's life will dwindle until there isn't enough to remember. Sometimes it doesn't even matter if that person made life meaningful: if they're gone for good, you're bound to forget them.

Gale wonders if he would completely un-remember Katniss when time claims his memory. She was Panem's Mockingjay after all, the biggest celebrity of the century. Even now a small statue is being built in the Capitol in her honor. He caught a glimpse of that on the evening news — only one of many.

He's afraid to look around, to just turn his head to any direction. One turn and he may see some semblance of the girl he used to protect, however refracted that is. Will he really forget Katniss?

Will he?

Will he?

When?

Most of the time Gale just wants to not recall the look in her eyes whenever she found a target, or the way she smiled — even the fake ones. It's irritating, especially when it's out of the blue, neatly catching him off guard. Then it makes him wish for instant oblivion, because it's taking all of his willpower to restrain himself from going back.

The only thing keeping him from returning to Twelve was the one thing he longs to see. Katniss must never see his annoying face again; this is at the high end of his lifelong list. Somehow he manages to set it aside, knowing it wasn't really his choice to make. And yet there come a few minutes when he is desirous of something far away, a finality that seemed to have occurred, but of which he wasn't certain.

Sometimes it occurs to him why he had not been brave enough to ask where it went wrong. There were vague ideas, unspoken and uncalled for, but it's not enough for him. How could it be? Gale could have named a thousand reasons for them not to part that way, perhaps not to part at all.

And he still cannot understand how one reason can single those thousands out.