AN: So this is just a little Gale/Katniss anti-fluff kind of friendship-y oneshot inspired by Kelly Clarkson's Since U Been Gone. If that makes any sense, anti-fluff and friendship-y…but yeah. I hate Peeta so, so much, I really want him to die and for Katniss and Gale to hook up and have a happy life together, but this happy little piece (scoff) doesn't show that in any way. Why? Because I'm beginning to accept that Katniss chose Peeta, and I need to get my mind out of the Galeniss setting and stop hating Peeta. Because all my friends are the subject of my ranting on Mockingjay's ending and how crappy Gale's story ending was and how Peeta should've died.

And I need to stop ranting. They're getting tired of it.

So, uh, here's the story, R&R, etc, etc. Yeah.

Friends. For as long as I can remember, we've been best friends. You didn't leave me. You never abandoned me, you were always there. And then after the Games, you told me you loved me. And I didn't know what to do. It confused me so much, having to choose between you and Peeta.

So I didn't.

I waited. I procrastinated. I put off having to decide for as long as I could, until it would be necessary to tell you which one I wanted. And then the Capitol took Peeta, and you were all I had left. You and Prim, and maybe Haymitch on the rare days he was sober. And you were the only one I could trust to protect me, to keep me from doing something stupid. But you weren't enough. I told myself over and over that it would be okay, that I loved you, and that you were all I needed.

Prim died. Your bombs killed her. I hate to say it (I hate it so, so much), but I was going to choose you. When it was all over, I loved you more. And then you blew it.

No. I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault. That's what my heart says, and I know it's right. But my mind won't believe it. You designed them, you made them, so you must be at fault, right? I don't know.

It doesn't matter, though. Whether you dropped the bombs, or not, I saw Prim. Every time I looked at you, I saw my little sister, and her death flashed in front of my eyes over and over again.

Since you've been gone, life's gotten better. Peeta and I are married. We have kids. There's not much I want in life, except for my little sister back, my dad to have never blown up. I feel less choked. There's no pressure. I can live again, not that I've ever had the chance. And it's enough.

I can breathe now.