~Sketching Out Our Love~

~Prologue~

So, after writing a lot of Hunger Games FanFictions that closely followed the canon, I decided to try something new.

I've been messing around with this AU story in my head for several months now. I decided that I now want to start it. If you've ever read some of my stuff before, the writing style for this story will be very different. Also, I used to update daily for my other stories. This story is more complex and harder to write, so expect an update every four to seven days.

Also, this is rated T for now. The rating might have to change to M for later chapters.

Now, enjoy, and please tell me what you think in a review after you have finished.

*Katniss*

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I focused on the constant beeping; refusing to believe that it would have to stop sometime very soon. I avoided looking at his face, but instead, gazed down at our entwined hands. My dark olive ones, against his pale, sickly ones.

Once, his had been as dark as mine. Those hands had been strong, and I felt like I would be safe from anything so long as I was holding on.

Not anymore. Cancer had ruined all that.

The beeping faltered for only a brief second, but it was enough to get my own heart racing in fear for him. I willed him to stay with me, but I knew it was a futile wish.

He was already as good as dead. I would never stare into his hard grey eyes, nor would I ever hear his deep laugh.

I forced myself to stare into his face, even though I really didn't want to. I envisioned him not as he was now, but as he used to be. Thick, dark hair that fell into his eyes perfectly had been replaced with a bald head. Olive skin that once glowed with health was now a sickly ashen color. Muscular arms that carried me down the length of a whole beach just last summer were now stick-thin and weak.

My eyes filled with tears, but I did not let them fall. I prided myself on never crying, not even when I was alone. I had only cried once, and that was when my father died. Crying was for weak people, and I did not like to be seen as weak.

Just a year ago, he had been perfectly healthy. Even after the diagnosis, he had been doing very well, because he was young and strong. His body had responded to the chemotherapy, despite the severe side effects.

It all changed last month, though. He had gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. His body had started becoming immune to the chemotherapy. That was when they told us that it was over, and we were now playing a waiting game.

They were surprised that he had hung on for this long. I wasn't, though. I knew that he would fight until the very end.

Gale had always been a survivor. Deep down, I had held on to the idea that Gale was too strong to die. I had thought that somehow, by some miracle, he would be cured. These were foolish wishes of a naïve girl that was now forever gone and replaced by the broken woman I saw in the mirror.

Now I knew nothing could save him. No amount of wishing, or prayer, or even love could help him now. Whoever said that love is the best medicine is an idiot.

The doctors had told us to take him off life support yesterday. They told us that this was all needless suffering for both him and us. His mother, Hazelle, had agreed, but my manic screams had convinced her otherwise. Now, here he was, a shell of himself, being kept alive by a monitor.

And it was all my fault. I was too selfish to let him go. If he left, I would never recover. I would spend the rest of my time trying to find the broken pieces of myself. I was afraid to let him go, afraid of what the future holds for me without him.

A nurse hesitantly walked in to the room. She took a quick look at Gale's vital signs, and gave a soft shake of her head. I had been in a hospital long enough to understand the expression on the face of a doctor or nurse. Her face said that Gale's vital signs were practically non-existent.

My fragile heart broke into a million pieces of sadness.

"I'll go get the doctor." She said softly, giving me a sad little smile.

I just nodded my head, trying to make an effort to appear unaffected by Gale's dwindling lifespan. The nurse saw right through me, but she did not say anything.

The silence of the stark white room was broken by the sound of the ventilator and the heartbeat monitor. I focused on the somewhat reassuring sounds, forcing my mind not to wander to the times that I had spent with Gale, and in particular, that one night.

But it did. Nothing could distract me from that night, as long as I lived. The night that I lost my virginity.

It was the night of my birthday. I had let Gale into the crevices of my complicated life that no one had ever entered before. It only felt natural to let him into my body as well.

"Katniss, are you sure you want this?" He whispered to me. His grey eyes had shone with excitement and passion. I would never forget the look in his eyes that night.

"Yes, I'm ready." I breathed into his chest.

It wasn't until he was inside me, filling me up, that I knew what I felt for Gale. I was in love, and I could not deny it anymore.

A week later, he had been diagnosed with a malignant tumor in his leg. In a year, the cancer had spread to his heart and lungs. No amount of medicine could reverse his condition.

A gray-haired man with blunt features walked in, interrupting my flow of thoughts. No doubt he had seen so many people die that this did not affect him in any way whatsoever.

He took a long look at the machines. They meant nothing to me. I stared at the doctor blankly.

"Miss Everdeen," The doctor addressed me in a business-like tone. I had met him many times before, but I had never bothered remembering his name. In my head, he was just 'the doctor.' "You best be saying your goodbyes. His family will be coming in shortly as well."

I forced myself to nod.

Goodbye? How do you even say goodbye to someone you know will haunt you as long as you live?

Instead of addressing the fact that this might very well be the last time I see him alive, I held onto his limp hand like I would slip off the face of the Earth if I let go. I could not do it. I could not say goodbye to the one person who understood me, and loved me the way I am.

"Katniss," Hazelle whispered, her voice broken. "We know how you feel."

I had not even noticed her walk in. She sat down on Gale's other side, and clasped his hand to her lips. I looked away, tears filling my eyes. No one had ever seen me cry, only Gale. I wanted to stay strong, but I was tired.

Tired of holding it all this past month in this hell of a hospital.

I was breaking, my weakness showing through the cracks. Hazelle looked up at me, and whispered, "It's OK to cry. No one will think badly of you."

Those two sentences opened the floodgates. I had tried so hard, but nothing mattered. Now that he was dying, nothing held any meaning.

Hazelle did not tell me to stop, nor did she come over to try to give me a comforting hug. She knew that I needed to get it out.

I fell asleep with tears still coursing down my cheeks as I held onto Gale's finger. I prayed the same prayer that I did every night. One more day, please.

When I woke up, I was not holding Gale's hand anymore. The bed beside me was empty, the sheets clean and cold.

Without anyone telling me what had happened, I already knew.

Gale had died.

I had expected myself to break down, and scream, but I couldn't do anything but stare blankly at the bed.

He had died while I slept. I would never forgive myself for falling asleep and missing his last moments. I felt like if I just stayed awake, he would still be here. There might have been something I could have done. But I would never know.

I ran out of the empty room. It was too much; I couldn't stand being in there without Gale.

Actually, I couldn't stand being anywhere without Gale. I realized that as I ran into the waiting room and came upon Hazelle and Gale's siblings.

His brothers, Rory and Vick, looked so similar to the Gale I remembered. Hazelle held little Posy in her arms. Posy stared around curiously, wondering what was going on.

She was too young to understand that Gale would never come back. I wish I could feel that way right now.

Hazelle looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "He didn't feel anything, Katniss. It was very quick."

We held the funeral a week later. It was a wet, cold day. It seemed that the whole world was mourning, in its own way.

It never rained in San Diego in June. It just didn't.

There was a small, quiet procession into the church. I was not much for churches. In fact, I had not been to one since my father had been blown to bits in a mining accident.

I sat quietly, wrapping my hands around my shaking knees. I didn't bother to listen to the pastor after the first minute.

"We are here to mourn the loss of a fine young gentleman, who battled the difficulties in his life with courage and faith…"

Those words did not describe Gale at all. When I thought of Gale, the one word I could think of was fire. Somehow, I don't think that would go well with the priest if I mentioned it. I tuned him out; instead focusing on the black dress I wore that fell to my knees.

My mother had insisted that I wear a ladylike dress. I was too heartbroken to care, though, so I just slipped it on.

An hour later, the church filed out into the cemetery behind. My hair dripped with rain as I made my way down the cemetery path. I followed behind Hazelle, focusing on the black coffin that held Gale's body.

I had not looked at his body during the viewing. I didn't want to remember him that way.

I didn't even want to remember him the way he had been with cancer.

I wanted to remember him the way he had been before all this. When he had been the man I had fallen head over heels for.

By the time it was my turn to throw a pile of dirt, I didn't know if the water coursing down my cheeks was rain or tears. All I knew was that there was a lump in the back of my throat, and my eyes burned with sadness.

My mother waited for me in our car by the exit of the church. I climbed in without saying goodbye to anyone. I wasn't in the mood to stay around, and have refreshments in the church hall. This was Gale's funeral, not an excuse to get free coffee and cake.

My mother drove in silence. I was used to my mother's silence; it had been this way since Father's death.

I hadn't forgiven her for zoning out on me the way she had. I don't think I ever will either. Now that I had lost someone, I could understand her pain a little. But in no way did it make up for her absence.

That was when Gale had come into the picture. We had been neighbors, and the same explosion that ended my father's life had killed his father as well. Maybe it was the fact that we were so similar, and suffering through the same pain, that we became closer.

Through him, I learned to move on. He was there as a friend, and eventually, a lover. As long as I was with Gale, I was happy. He used to say that I only smiled around him.

My mother cleared her throat several times. I knew she wanted to say something. Perhaps she wanted to apologize for my loss, or to try to worm herself back into my life. Either way, I ignored her completely, and stared out of the rain-stricken window. The weather seemed to reflect my mood exactly, and I found it oddly calming that I was not the only one mourning Gale.

I was in for a shock when we arrived at our house.

There was a huge moving truck out front, and several men were loading our couches and beds into the truck. As I watched, two men loaded my dresser up onto the truck.

I turned to Mother. "What's happening?" I asked her in an icy tone. I had thought I was unable of feeling after Gale's death, but now I knew I was wrong. My emotions seemed to be heightened, actually, and I felt a wave of fury rush through me.

"I thought it might be best if we moved away from here and started anew." She said in a soft tone. "It will be good for both of us."

I ran up the stairs, ignoring her protests as tears blurred my vision. I locked the door of my room, and stared at the empty room. I sank to the floor and curled up in a ball against the wall. I cried my heart out, reflecting on what my life had been reduced to.

This was my home. I loved it here, I'd never thought of leaving. I'd lost my father, then Gale, and now I am losing the only home I've ever had.

There was a soft knock on my door. "Katniss let me talk to you. Please." My mother tried the door handle, and let herself in when she found it open.

Stupid! Why didn't I lock the door?

She sat down beside me, and looked at me with tired blue eyes. Long ago, my mother used to be considered beautiful. After Father's death, age had taken its toll on her. Wrinkles had appeared on her pale complexion, and she had lost a lot of weight. She was a shadow of herself.

I wondered if I was headed down the same path as her.

She took a deep breath. "I got an offer at a New York hospital. It will be good for us."

I shrugged, even though I felt like strangling her. "When are we leaving?" I asked dully. I was never a submissive person. Gale used to say I was stubborn as a mule. Now, I didn't have the strength to resist. What did it matter anyway?

"Tomorrow. Our plane leaves at six in the morning." She replied. Mother hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more. But she left, and closed the door of my room.

Once she had left, I curled up in my bed. It was only five, but I felt physically and mentally drained. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, and closed my eyes.

Sleep didn't come easily, even though I felt more exhausted than I had in years. As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw Gale's face. I could hear his deep voice saying "Katniss, why did you leave me?" over and over. I would scream that I had not left him, he'd left me. But Gale never believed me.

I woke to my mother's alarm clock at three in the morning drenched in sweat and shaking.

We had to be at the airport two hours early, and it took thirty minutes to get there. So that meant Ihad half an hour before we had to leave. I spent that half hour wandering around my room. I tried to grasp on to the fact that I would never return here.

I had no doubt that I would spend my last year in high school as a loner. I would be viewed as a freak. This did not bother me too much, though, because I had always been quiet and friendless. Beside Gale, the only friend I had was Madge.

I wonder what she would think when she did not see me in school come August.

Before leaving my room, I took my small mockingjay pin from my closet. My father had given it to me before his untimely death. He had told me mockingjays were a symbol of resilience and survival.

Even though I did not feel resilient or strong, I didn't want to leave the last piece of him here. I buckled it on to my shirt, slipped some flip-flops on my bare feet, and walked out of the room. I didn't look back as I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

My mother had set out some cereal and milk for my breakfast. I poured cereal into my milk, and ate the food without tasting any of it. For some strange reason, I could not process the fact that this would be my last meal here.

My mother descended the stairs, closing the buttons on her shirt as she went down. She gave me a tentative smile, and poured a bowl of cereal for herself.

We ate standing, because there weren't any chairs to sit on. "Are you excited?" My mother asked as she threw her bowl away. I followed suit, and turned to face her.

"Why?" I asked quietly. This was, in my opinion, the stupidest question she could've asked me.

"Because you get to start over now."

"I do not want to start over!" I cried out. It occurred to me that this was the longest sentence I had said since Gale's death.

"I didn't know him very well." She said. "But I'm sorry. He seemed like a nice young man."

I didn't reply. Her apology meant next to nothing. She had not even bothered to ask about my life, or get to know Gale.

Before I knew what was happening, I was in the passenger seat of our silver Honda Accord. Just before Mother turned the corner, I whispered Goodbye .

Goodbye to the house I'd grown up in since I was five.

Goodbye to the only place I had found happiness in.

And, most importantly, goodbye to Gale.

Surely, I would never return here. I've just lost everything.

For someone who had just lost everything that held meaning in life, I was relatively calm. I didn't cry in the car as we passed the beach, and I made an effort to listen to every song that had played on the radio. By the time we arrived, I had listened to Coldplay, Adele, and Maroon 5.

I hate airports.

They are so big, and the LAX was huge as far as airports went. We didn't have many bags, just two carry-ons. The moving truck held all our belongings. It was currently being driven to New York by the people Mother had hired.

"Look for Terminal Seven," Mother said as she scanned the map of the airport in front of us. I looked alongside her, and found Terminal Seven three terminals down our left.

While Mother went to go confirm our tickets, I sat down on one of the rickety airport chairs. I flipped my iPod on, and saw that a whole new playlist had been downloaded on for me.

I clicked it, and the title said Love Always, Gale.

There were about thirty songs that he had downloaded. Gale had always been in charge of my iPod. He knew my song preferences better than I knew them myself. My heart beat quickly, and I felt myself becoming light-headed and dizzy.

A moment later, I felt the tears pooling up in my eyes, and I didn't make an attempt to stop them.

I hadn't even thanked him. How much effort must it have taken him to download this whole playlist for me while he had been fighting to live?

I switched the iPod off, overcome with emotion, and buried it at the bottom of the carry on. My hands shook, and I felt the tears roll down my face.

My mother plopped down next to me, and looked at my tear-streaked face. She put a tentative hand around me. Instead of refusing her touch, like I had for so long, I leaned into her.

Mother looked surprised that I had let her hug me. This must be the first time since Father's death that I have allowed her to touch me.

I leaned into her, and for the first time, understood what a mother's touch really meant. I had not felt this safe since Gale-

Dammit, everything reminded me of him. A wave of tears rushed through me just at the thought of his name.

Mother just held me, and we ignored the stares of the people passing by.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, an attendant said, "Flight Number 96, headed for New York City, is currently boarding!"

Please tell me what you thought. I need the constructive criticism, especially for this chapter, more than any others. The first chapter is always the hardest for me.

Next chapter: Peeta's POV. Takes place two months after this chapter.