chapman, c. | district five | fin

There's a constellation in the sky shaped like a 'w' stretched just a little too far. It already has a name and a story attached to it—something about a boastful queen, a pissed off god, and a hangry sea monster, I don't know—but it's always just reminded me of the pattern of freckles dotting Gav's back. The first mark is on the nape of his neck, hidden beneath tiny, curlicue curls that feel as soft as clouds look; the next is tucked beneath the edge of his shoulder blade. Then the middle of his spine, just below his ribcage, the dimple in his lower back—I trace it out every chance I get, a boy smiling and breathless, in awe of the stars.

I read over my words again, triple and quadruple checking for flaws that I know aren't really there. I've been practicing for weeks on scratch paper, trying my best not to smear ink across the page or misspell constellation for the billionth time. I didn't want to risk the chance that they didn't pick Gavin's application because I'd screwed it up for him.

But this was the final draft. When I had our friends look it over they all seemed to think it was romantic. And, okay, sure, maybe it was a little, but I just told them all the same thing—"I just wrote the truth, y'know?" And then they'd tell me how lucky Gavin was to have someone like me. I'm thinking about how much I adore the crookedness of his smile as they parade me through their offices with excited whispers and requests to re-read for the masses. I smile; I love talking about him.

Pride surges within me as I finally let myself relax. It was perfect. And he was, too. And he wanted to do this, he could do this, he's so damn amazing, the fucker- and now everyone in Panem would get to know him just like I do. Felt only fair, seeing as I've sort of hoarded him my entire life—Coach always called it being annoying, but I like to call it enthusiasm. Or- wait, was the word 'infatuation'? No, that's- hm.

I spin in my chair, hurtling across the tile floor for the carpet of the living room. Gavin sleeps peacefully in the afternoon sun, his shoulders rising and falling with each slow breath he takes. Good. I still have to make sure Mom takes her meds and eats her supper before I seal and stamp a star for special delivery to the Capitol.

My next breath feels heavy and light all at once, as if I were drowning in gold or something. I stand and make my way over to Gav with the letter in hand, the pen I'd been anxiously chewing back between my teeth, and-

"Shit, what, nononono-" I'm trying to keep quiet, but Gavin has told me many times that quiet isn't really a setting that I have. I grumble, crack my shin against the coffee table, and grumble some more as tears prick the corners of my eyes.

And to top it all off? I signed his name Gavim Hale. Fucking Gavim, dude.

I use his back as a flat surface and black out the extra hump on the 'n.' It looks... okay? Ugh, I'm such a dumbass, I should've been paying better attention-

And then ink explodes into my mouth, pen flying from between my teeth with a force I'm pretty sure should not exist within a writing utensil. The pen splatters and spits ink in all directions, an instant of chaos that I definitely am not going to be able to explain.

The letter sits soaking up ink, the pen oozes black goop into the carpet, and my boyfriend has lines, splatters, and splotches all across his back. It takes everything I have not to burst out in laughter, but apparently luck finally wanted to give me a break—I crumple up the letter, shoving it awkwardly into my pocket before he's rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Dicks!" I exclaim loudly, smudging the ink across his back into a phallic form. "I was pranking you, it's a dick!" Nice.

I stand with stained hands on my hips and teeth full of ink for a moment before bending to kiss his forehead and leaving hurriedly from the room.

I sigh before tossing the letter away, relief filling my heart as I do, thankful I was able to keep this gift a secret. Besides, it doesn't matter. I can rewrite it.

Count up all the stars in the sky and you still won't have enough to match all the reasons why I love Gavin Hale.