AN: This came to me when my friend's cousin's mom died a few days ago. I haven't seen any fics about Katniss and Gale's dads, so I decided to write one.
It's the day. Not the reaping. Not the war. Not anyone's birthday.
It's the anniversary. The day the mine exploded. The day District Twelve's population was cut in half.
My father died that day.
I sit on the twin bed in my room. My eyes are puffy and red, my cheeks sting from the salty streams dripping down. Crystal drops distort my vision to that the light creeping through the door is split into thick beams, twisting and turning this way and that.
Another sob escapes my throat. Another wave of tears falls through my lashes. Another jolt of pain runs through my wounds.
The door creaks open, and the beams of light are shattered. Gale steps in, pushing the door tightly shut behind him. His eyes are just as crimson as mine. He wordlessly walks over and sits next to me. It's silent for awhile, just the occasion of my sniffling to disrupt the peace.
Then the clock strikes. And it's the time. The exact time that our fathers died.
My throat erupts in uncontrollable bawling, waves and waves of salty tears flowing endlessly down my raw cheeks. Gale pulls me to his chest, weeping too. I stain his shirt with sorrow, and my hair is sopping wet.
But it doesn't matter. Because I need him. I need someone who knows why I cry, why every year, this very hour haunts me to no end. And Gale is the only one who can ever, ever relate to that.
"Katniss. Katniss, wake up." At first it's Dad. He's still talking to me. He's saying how proud he is, how he wishes he could be there. But he isn't. And he never will be.
"Katniss, c'mon, wake up." Now it's Peeta. His face is marred, ruined with scars that only the Capitol could produce. His arms are scraped and scabbed, results of the inevitable torture the Capitol put him through to find out where I am. He didn't tell them. He never will.
"Catnip." No, now I know the voice. No one else would dare to call me by that name. Gale. He's my friend, my partner. And I love him. I need him. And I have no idea where I would be without him.
The swollen slits of my eyes peel open, gazing directly in to his identical ones. The same blue-black shadow lies beneath his lids, shading the morbid memories of last night. The same crimson skin rims the outside of those deep, beautiful gray eyes. The same dry tracks of water make stripes down his face.
I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. His hands find their way around my back, and we just sit there.
They're gone. It's over. No matter how many years we do this, we can't get over it. But today's different. We don't have days of seclusion in the forest to cry in each other's arms. We don't have a choice. We have to pull ourselves together and win this. Lead the rebellion. If nothing else, for them.