He hates her, and she knows it.

Every time he and Katniss meet her at the back door of her house to sell her another pint of strawberries, she can see him hate her a little bit more. The way he never actually enters inside, opting to stay standing on the back stairs. The way he looks at the outside of her house. The way he looks like he can't wait to leave, and after she drops the money in his hands, he all but runs.

She symbolizes everything he thinks is wrong. With the government, with money, with power. Eyes full of contempt when he looks at her. And she knows it.

She sees him at school sometimes, when he comes over at lunch to talk to Katniss. It's always brief, always basically one-word conversations. He doesn't look at her, doesn't acknowledge her in the least. She also sometimes sees him in the halls, but he always stares blankly ahead, on a clear path that won't be deterred.

She wishes he would see her.

Because she can't help but want him, in an entirely improper way. His messy dark hair and his rough looking skin and eyes like the moon and stars at night. He is rough, strong, broad-shouldered, and dark... in a way that none of the boys from town (or the boys her father would allow her to see) aren't.

She doesn't know him. But she wants to.

One Saturday, Gale and Katniss arrives a little earlier than usual for a trade, blueberries this time. He hears music coming from inside the large, extravagant house. It's different from the music usually played around the Seam. That is frantic and lively, a distraction, a brief moment of grinning-happiness.

He likes this music, though, in an entirely different way. It's balanced and nimble, quiet but strong. Not the same kind of lively feeling, but a content calm.

"What's that music?" He asks. He blurts it out quickly.

"Madge, probably." Katniss says gruffly, before knocking on the back door. The startling use of her name makes Gale stop for a minute.

The music stops abruptly, jerking him out of the moment and remembering where he was. He straightens up a little, collecting himself.

The door opens, and Madge is standing there in a pink sundress.

His face falls into the stoic, indifferent expression he uses when he sees her.

They make their trade, she hands Katniss the money, and Katniss turns away down the stairs. He moves to follow her, but impulsively looks over his shoulder back to the house. She is leaning against a half-shut door, impossibly proper and relaxed all at the same time, staring after him with her sky-blue eyes.

They are different from the hardened, cold, blank eyes often seen in the Seam. They look kind and hopeful and warm, maybe…

A weight settles in his chest, and his eyes quickly snap back in front of him as he shoves his hands into his pockets and continues after Katniss. He doesn't look back again.

She shuts the door, letting herself fall back against the wood and close her eyes. She holds her breath for a minute, because right now that moment is all hers and there's nothing else to taint it. She won't let it go, at least for a while.

She knows it doesn't mean anything. Even though no one talks about it, there's an obvious bond between him and Katniss. Whether that bond is romantic or not, Madge doesn't know… but Katniss is obviously one of the few people he really cares for, and a simple glance over his shoulder is nothing compared to the affectionate looks she's only seen a couple of times.

It was only a look. But she'll take what she can get.

She smiles to herself, sliding onto the piano bench, letting her fingers rest over the white keys. She plays with her eyes closed, and the music sounds somehow happier when she plays it now.

The tune gets stuck in his head. He can only remember a few of the beginning notes, so he tries hard to remember the rest of the melody. He keeps it in his mind, so it won't slip away. It makes him think of the calmness of the meadow, on those rare days where he doesn't have to worry about traps or hunting or Rory or Vick or Posy or his mother. Those few Sundays that are just his, where he can just be alone. Away from noise, and he can just breathe.

He plays what he can remember over and over in his head until he falls asleep.

He wishes he hated her.

He did, for a while. With her new clothes and colored cheeks, always looking well-fed and well-rested. She was from town, where all the rich people congregate so they can avoid the starving Seam kids as much as they can. She was just another snobby, stuck-up princess.

He denies that he wants her. Her, with her golden hair and creamy, soft-looking pale shoulders. She always wears a sweater to school, but a few Saturdays when it's warm out she'll answer the door to pay him for whatever he's selling that Saturday, and he'll try hard not to look.

She is everything he can never have. Far off, so unattainable it hurts. And dreams are only for people who can afford them, which he most certainly can't. She is the mayor's daughter, she lives in a mansion, and gets to eat as much in a day as he strives to get his entire family for three.

What had he to give her? Nothing.

He wants to know her. But he just can't.

A/N: I have never written fanfiction for THG, so this comes as a total surprise. I recently fell in love with Gale/Madge, and after reading some of the best fanfiction written for the pairing, I just got inspired. This will probably only have a few chapters, and updates won't be regular. I've already got too many irons in the fire, but I wrote this to get rid of my unfortunate writers block I've been suffering from lately. Ok, well. Um. Yeah. Hope anyone reading this enjoyed it!

Please review!