AN: Hello! It has definitely been a while since I have last written anything at all, and while pharmacy seems to take up most of my time, I assure you I am making it up with a lot of story lines. I'm sure there will be a few blank lines that are yet to be filled as this is a mere part of an upcoming work I'd like to call, "As is the Sea Marvelous,". But before I get there, I'd like to present a small part of it here. I may also wish to ask for a bit of reviews so I would know if there's any development between my previous works and if you enjoyed it. Anyway, Happy Holidays!
It starts like this.
On the day before Christmas Eve, Finnick Odair finds himself unable to write. Though this is a common habit that forms along the progress of writing, he still finds it unbearable to not find any words to express his ideas on paper.
He has tried different tactics in finding his muse, his will and every desire to put his scattered thoughts on paper. He's pondered, he's typed the first words that came out only to end up deleting it afterwards, he's tried reading various articles on certain and random topics and he's tried rearranging his entire desk and books into alphabetical order.
But whenever he faces the blank page and the blinking cursor, his hands find themselves betrayed by the inability to find anything capable of being written.
Prior to this, Finnick Odair had found himself the previous night secretly loathing the fact that a certain young man had taken out Annie Cresta for a date.
Though he was not much of a person who would pry into other people's lives, his curiosity to this certain young man who had invited Annie for a night of dinner at the local restaurant has earned his attention and he found himself sitting five tables away from the couple, stabbing the bowl of mashed potatoes with his fork unable to digest the sickening sight of the young man making Annie laugh with whatever joke he was talking about.
The young man in this picture happens to be Eric Damon. He was 25 years old and worked at a local company that made a business out of money. He was a tall man, with brooding blue eyes, a prominent chin, and a fine taste for wine. Often times throughout dinner, he would pour himself a drink as Annie Cresta excitedly describes herself in a series of disconnected words and her own love of growing flowers.
And as the night grew to an end, Finnick's fifth bottle of wine was too and he found himself unable to speak coherently which was good because he thought the words going through his mind were too stained with bright crimson and Annie does not deserve to be spewed with crimson.
He went by unnoticed as the couple passed by his table. Though he'd like to think the sunglasses and rugged look he wore was enough of a disguise, this did not stop him from getting the local waitress to recognizing him and asking for his number.
He would remember how the tight skirt hugged the lower half of her body just right and for a moment he pondered whether he would need a good distraction from the confusing feelings he was experiencing until he looked up at her piercing blue eyes and thought that she was and could never be anywhere near to Annie Cresta.
And for that matter he found himself sleeping alone that night, his thoughts swimming in a haze of liquor and the determined look on Eric's face as he took her hand that night and led her to his car.
The possible thoughts of Eric leading Annie to bed did not escape his mind and for that matter, he found himself sitting in front of his laptop, ready to write out these feelings that were eating him alive.
The sounds of his snores would soon fill the empty room and Finnick Odair would then be asleep on his desk a few moments later, with the cursor still blinking on the white page.
Still that did not stop him the next morning from preparing his cup of caffeine dunked with enough sugar cubes and cream in preparation of forgetting the previous night and focusing on today's agenda.
The time passes by too quickly, the snow has started to fall again and by the time Finnick Odair's coffee has gone cold, so were his ideas.
He groans and buries himself in his arms unable to release this frustration and jealousy from last night.
He could not make out his feelings for Annie Cresta. He pondered, too many times on this. On why she filled his every thought and why all of a sudden he had found himself writing countless poetry in his journals was not too much of a question. This intense feeling of miserable passion seems to stem from the fact that ever since fall started; Annie had taken to asking for a little bit of distance between them.
This meant no more intimate evenings or long walks in the park, no more weekend rendezvous or waking up to her fixing breakfast downstairs. And while he agreed to this proposed truce, Finnick Odair could not stop himself from feeling too much of everything. He felt like the leaves falling from the trees, torn apart from its branch, floating downwards in fading colors, expecting to be caught but in actuality is piled up and thrown away.
Though in the countless times that they had been together, the words "I love you" was never once uttered. It was unforgivable phrase that they both thought could shatter their seemingly short affair.
The ringing of his phone jolts him out of his misery and he prepares himself for the familiar voice ready to insult him at his weakest point.
"Jo?"
"GOOD MORNING MY PRECIOUS BUTTERBALL OF SUNSHINE!" she greets with overjoyed sarcasm.
He groans at this, "What do you want?"
"I'm actually leaving for Boston today. Thought I might check up on you." She states.
He hears the heavy baggage being closed and her breathing as she struggles with the zipper. It's a welcoming noise from all the quietness in his house.
"Done any writing lately?" she asks.
He sighs, sparing a glance at the blank page, the blinking cursor in his screen mocking him, daring him to say something.
"Maybe,"
"Christ, Odair. What the hell did you do last night?" she asks.
"I went out for a walk, took myself out to dinner, got drunk, and then I went home," he states.
"I never thought of you as a person who takes a lot of walks alone,"
"Well, time does change a man," he counters.
It was very unlikely for Finnick Odair to take walks alone. He hated walking alone. He hated the feeling of being alone. Johanna learned that upon growing up, Finnick was always subjected to a constant companionship with loneliness that he begun to despise it. For Finnick, being alone with loneliness was an emotional torture.
"Where exactly were you last night?" she asks again. The emphasis on the first word brightly underlined that Finnick chose to submit to her request rather than ignore it.
"I was watching Eric and Annie have a good time last night over grilled fish and wine while I sat five tables from them drinking myself to death," he states blandly.
He could hear her sigh in exasperation at his statement and he knew that if she was here right now she would kick him and as the usual, slap him back to his senses.
Johanna Mason, one of Finnick's only friends and book publisher would often times slap him too much from his stupid antics with Annie Cresta wondering when they would break this false tension.
"It's so fucking obvious that she loves you just as much as you do!" she exclaims one night when he comes over.
"I don't love her," he exclaims as a matter of fact.
The incredulous look he received from Johanna and the awakening slap to his face was too much to be considered as a wakeup call. Finnick would recall Johanna threatening to never publish any of his books lest he learn how to be true to his feelings and the other proposed statement 8 months ago.
"You finally found a woman you could write about, and what do you do? You retreat back to your desk and hide in your shitty selfish poetry? How the fuck are you ever gonna finish the fucking book?" she exclaims.
The book Johanna Mason was talking about was what she thought could be a fresh start from his previous novels. Johanna always thought that Finnick was a writer who was capable of working words beyond of what he could do. It was entirely rare for a man to be able to write about a book about a woman but in some bizarre way she saw that Finnick was capable of doing almost anything just with the right push.
Less than a month after she wakes up to Finnick Odair at her doorstep at 3 in the morning exclaiming that he had found her. As she watch him with his hands flailing, his words too fast to be coherent, drunk in some mere form of ecstatic feeling that writers experience in joy of a newly profound idea, she knew. She let him bask in a moment of revelation until the neighbor from the other apartment threw them a morning scoop of cursing.
But Johanna Mason also knew that Finnick Odair was madly in love with the flower girl, Annie Cresta. How or why he did is a question she has yet to answer but what was important was that Finnick was writing again and if Finnick was writing again this means she would be back in business.
"Finnick," she starts staring at her loaded baggage at the floor.
"I'm fine Jo. I'm just not used to feeling like this." He said.
"You're entirely new to the feeling itself Finnick. Of course you're not used to it," she replies.
He doesn't say anything else. There was one thing about the first that always makes it memorable and evidently more painful. It was not the small moments of happiness or the pangs of pain. Evidently for Finnick Odair, the thing that hurts most about the first is the consent of vulnerability. Wary yet hopeful, the first always made an impression deeper than anything else.
"Tell you what," she starts after a moment of silence, "you could drive me to the airport and I'll buy you a bottle of champagne as a present,"
"You want me to get drunk on Christmas Eve?"
"No, I want you to get laid on Christmas Eve," she says.
"I don't think that's gonna happen anytime soon," he exclaims.
"If this is about Annie Cresta-"
"It is about Annie Cresta. The whole damn book is about her. I can't sleep without her. I can't get my head to work without her and I can't get myself right without her. "
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"It's Annie Cresta." He says.
In a span of one year, Johanna Mason noted that ever since Annie Cresta had chosen to take Finnick Odair to bed on one lonely night, he had not been the same since. It was not the amount of poetry he had suddenly taken to writing or the sudden carelessness he took to wearing, nor was it the sudden amount of gardenias blooming in his garden, it was the fact that Finnick Odair had chose to let a woman inside his heart. And though she thought that was a bad idea, she had always believed that in order to write an efficiently good book, one must take a little breaking sometimes.
Johanna Mason may not be a writer with two successful books under her sleeves, but her determination to prove and push someone into a situation that is enhancing in its way has gotten her to where she is. It has helped to get where Finnick is. And if there was one thing that made her determined about Annie Cresta is that she could ultimately break him in a good way.
The alarm clock in Johanna's room goes off and breaks the silent thoughts going on in between their conversation and she remembers that the plane is leaving in at least 3 hours and her cat hasn't found its babysitter yet.
"Listen, I still haven't packed a few bags yet, can you still drive me to the airport?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?"
"I'll repay you with sexual favors when I get back" she replies
"Fuck off Jo,"
"I will but first, I need you here in an hour. My plane leaves at 7."
"You're taking the cat right?" he asks.
"Maybe,"
"Good."
As Finnick ended the conversation with Johanna, he thought that maybe he needed a distraction from the blinking cursor that continuously mocked him.
Annie Cresta did not like Christmas.
Whilst Christmas meant a time of seasonal joy and love, she could only see her father's baggage at the door, her mother sipping champagne throughout her father's angry remarks of an unhappy marriage and an unhappy life. Her mother would say nothing but watch in disdain as her father put most of his belonging away like mere toys ready to be given out to charity.
And with a regretful kiss on her forehead, she watched him drive out of their lives, her green eyes lingering on the tire marks he left on the snow.
For the time that followed afterwards, Annie would remember her mother constantly reminding her that women do not need men to make something out of nothing. She would remember the flowers blooming in their garden and how her mother's eyes look tired, worn out with age and pain as her hands tilled the hard ground with all her might.
This did not mean that her mother regretted Annie. If by all means, her mother had raised Annie singlehandedly, with enough love that until the day she died her mother's words would stay true to her
"Annie, never let a man break your heart. Never let yourself be broken by someone else. Choose the ones who needs the breaking the most. And chose the one that you think you deserve to be broken with,"
At the age of 24, Annie Cresta had grown with enough care to her heart. She did not believe in the concept of marriage simply because she did not believe in the thought of love as something that could last forever. Like the coming of fall and her flowers dying at the end of the year, Annie believed that at some point in time love will fade into a crumbling memory of pain and heartache. Such things she did not believe are worth taking the time at all.
Though she had gone into the mix of several relationships, not one of them satisfied or prove her wrong.
Until she took a certain bronze haired young man to bed one night.
Though she had meant it to be just a mere form of physical intimacy, a fling of sorts, what she did not expect was his presence at her shop one fine afternoon, holding a bouquet of roses and a polite invitation to dinner.
It certainly did not help when she figured out that he authored the book she had thought was pretentious and horrible.
But what Annie Cresta thought was interesting about Finnick Odair did not lie in his experience of satisfying women in bed nor his irrevocably good looks and charm. It was his sea green eyes, cloudy and shaded with tinted blues when he was deep in thought and vibrant with bright shades of green on the days he was happy. She also noted the way he rationalized the failures of commitments and its contributions to the growing population of heartbroken people and how he thought that people did not need commitments in order to enjoy a good relationship.
Annie had found a kindred spirit in Finnick Odair. One who did not believe in everlasting relationships but believed that everyone should at least experience one.
Though their constant agreement of weekend rendezvous and physical intimacies were kept in a barrier of sorts, it did not explain why all of a sudden, she had found herself thinking too much of him or why she thought he needed to be kissed more often than not.
It was too much that one day Annie Cresta needed to think about one morning. Annie feared that one day Finnick Odair would only use her just as her father had once used her mother. That pain would be unbearable and she could not let herself watch another replay of a memory to painful to linger on.
But this did not explain why no matter how much she would try to return back to her state of living before, it just wasn't enough. Annie had found that she missed waking up next to someone and that she missed the hands that would help her till the hard ground for her growing flowers. She missed a lot about the writer who would sneak poetry in between the dishes or sing 80's songs in the shower.
And as she pondered on this and the unsatisfied experience with Eric Damon last night, Peeta Mellark was impatiently busy whilst ringing the bell on her counter.
"Anyone here?" he asks, continuing his actions.
"Yes. Sorry," she apologizes as she greets the blond haired baker.
"Thought so," he replies, "I thought you'd need a bit of sweetening after last night,"
Annie notices the huge box in his arms and the apologetic smile in his face. She opens the box to reveal a chocolate cake decorated in frosted flowers and a touch of sugar enough to warm the coldness in her heart. For all the men present in the world, not one of them could substitute for the kindness in Peeta Mellark's heart.
She grabs a bit of icing with her finger and tastes it as if checking the amount of sweetness present. The first touch of sugar on her tongue was enough to say the least. She smiles brightly and leans over to give him a small peck in the cheek.
"Thank you Peeta," she replies as she puts the cover back to the box. She offers him a seat inside the counter and he obliges. "I thought you'd be back home for Christmas?"
"Can't. Too much family drama going on. Plus, I still have to finish the photos my editor needs for next year."
"Wont' your brothers even miss you?"
"Oh I think they'd be missing each other even more than I would," he replies.
Peeta Mellark did not like his family with the exception of his father, the baker who had taught him a few of his recipes.
"So," he starts, as he takes his seat, "how have things been going?"
Her smile fades as she looks up at his blue eyes. Despite her reservations, Peeta Mellark has proven himself to be a trust worthy person.
It all started with a fraternity night back in college where under a daze of hard liquor and dancing, Annie had found herself kissing a young man with surprising blue eyes and soft locks of blond hair. What she did not expect after that was the slap that he received from another blond haired woman and the sound of her feet making imprints on the ground as she left.
Despite it, Peeta had thanked Annie for her drunken stupidity had he not taken any actions to make things worse with his then girlfriend. He had helped her back to her dorm and offered her warm bread in the morning after. Since then Peeta Mellark, had taken to talking to Annie about certain kinds of things including his love of making pastries and painting colorful pictures of a young woman who wore her hair in a braid.
Their friendship continued even after graduating and despite having no other familiar family members, Annie had considered Peeta as the brother she could never have just as Peeta considered Annie to be the sister he too had never had.
And as Annie relayed to him about the bronze haired man who has seemingly wedged his way into her heart, Peeta could not help but notice a certain kind of smile and confusion enveloping her face. Her green eyes would take on a certain shade of brightness and her smile would transform into a graceful act, nothing like he had ever seen before.
"Sounds like you miss him even more than you thought,"
"I do, I really do," she admits with a sigh
"So what seems to be a problem?" he asks
"It's not supposed to feel like this!" she exclaims "It's not supposed to go on this long and go beyond of our agreements. It was supposed to be just an affair,"
"An affair?"
"Yes. It was just the whole physical thing. No ties."
"Like a friends with benefits thing?" he asks
"Exactly!"
"So what happened exactly?"
She avoids his eyes as she tells him, "One morning I woke up and I thought he was the most beautiful thing in the world to wake up to and I leaned in and kissed him and I couldn't stop. And I keep thinking about kissing him too many times, it's absurd,"
If Annie Cresta had been looking at Peeta Mellark at that very moment she would think that he found her situation to something he envied. How he longed to kiss the girl with the braided hair and how he wished he could get the courage to do so.
But unlike his certainty of his love for the girl with the braided hair, he could not say the same for her, just as the girl in front of him could not dare to admit it herself.
"Annie, why are you afraid?" he asks.
"Afraid?" confusion suddenly gracing her thoughts.
"Why are you afraid to admit that you're in love with him?" he asks with such cushioned honesty.
The question takes her back a bit. Annie had never found herself in such predicament. She didn't even think that such a feeling or state would exist or at least take a hold of her. Annie had always believe that love was not something good for the longtime and if it was not something good for the longtime then she would not waste enough of her time wanting it.
But at this moment right under the piercing gaze of her friend's eyes she thought that maybe he was right.
"Do you think I'm in love with him?" she asks quietly.
"I think so," he replies. He takes a strand of her hair and puts it behind her ear. "I've never seen you talk about anyone the way you talk about him,"
"I don't know Peeta, do you think it's a good thing?" she asks.
"What? About falling in love?"
She nods wordlessly. He lets out a sigh before the image of the girl with a braid enters his mind and for a moment Peeta Mellark revels on how, at such a small image, he feels his heart swell.
"I think falling in love is both a bad and a good thing. I mean we shouldn't deny the smallest things in life. I mean if you love someone, then show them how much you would love them. You shouldn't torture yourself in asking these questions, trying to revel in how right this feels like at the same time avoiding it. Life is about experiences and sometimes those experiences come once in a while and you wouldn't even know it until you realize that it's gone."
"So are you saying I should?" she doesn't let her question end in telling.
"I'm not saying you should tell him. If you like spending time with and if he likes spending time with you, then that's fine. I think you should tell him, when you're 100% sure that you feel it and there's nothing else preventing you from saying it." He says.
And as Peeta Mellark received a warming hug from Annie Cresta, he thought about a certain girl whose voice whipped the air out of his lungs and the braid she wore. He thought about her compliments about his photos and how some of the photos in his collage were of hers. Suddenly the boy with the bread felt a familiar pang in his heart for the girl who could probably never return his feelings.
But in that small moment, Peeta Mellark thought that like Annie Cresta, maybe he should tell her too.
"Thank you Peeta," she says while hugging him tight,
"No Annie," he says returning the affectionate gesture, "thank you,"
"I thought you said you'd take the goddamn cat!" Finnick exclaims as Johanna handed him a fuzzy ball of a cat.
"He was too heavy and he's not going to fit in the baggage," she states, as she scratches behind his ear.
"Pudge is gonna be fine here, isn't he? He's going to have a good time with Finnick," she states as the cat purred in semi disagreement.
"You know damn well how much that cat fucking hates me," he says with a gruff.
"He doesn't hate you," she states as she grabs her baggage from the trunk of his car.
"You don't say," he says in a sarcastic tone, as he puts his hand on top of its head. The gesture earns him a hateful hiss.
"He just needs enough fish and probably a warm bed," She says as she places her baggage beside.
"Jo if you think this creature you call Pudge is going to take my mind off of Annie Cresta, you should know that not only will it be a bad idea, I may or may not accidentally stab this cat with a fork,"
"Don't worry Finnick, I'll be sure to keep those records clean in case you make a good comeback anytime soon," she replies to his threats.
"When are you going to be back again?" he asks.
"Probably the 5th of January. Thought I might have to make a few visits to the grandparents to shut them up," she answers.
"Oh," was all that he could reply.
As Johanna makes one quick check of the necessary documents she would need for her travel, Finnick found himself occupied with a sudden pang of sadness. Every year, he, Johanna and Mags would spend the holidays together at his house, drinking wine and celebrating the company they had with each other.
But after the sudden death of his beloved and only family member, Mags, Finnick found it impossible to spend the holidays with the same old cheery tradition. And Johanna leaving for Christmas this year did not ease the sudden sadness that has chilled his heart.
"Okay. Everything's all set. I'm sure you and Pudge are going to have a merry Christmas without me," she says as she turns to Finnick and Pudge. The sudden tinted blues in his eyes and the frown that had taken to wearing was enough to soften the somehow sturdy heart of Johanna Mason.
"Hey, you okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, I-," he stammers while adjusting the huge cat in his arms, "I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."
"Oh, Finnick," she says with a touch of sadness in her voice. She leans towards him and envelops the taller man in her arms with the cat compressed between. It occurred to Johanna that while she may have a family to come home to this year, Finnick had not one member and it also occurred to her that he would spending this year's holidays alone.
"I know it's been a hard and confusing year." She starts, "but think about it, for every bad thing we get there's always a good thing bound to happen anytime soon,"
Pulling back to look at her friend, Johanna smiled with enough emotion to convey its sincerity and as the passengers of her boarding plane had started to line up, so did Finnick's emotions.
Leaning down to kiss her forehead, he whispered small, "thank you," despite her annoyance with physical affections.
"Yeah, yeah" she says waving off the gesture. She leans down and instead returns a small kiss to her cat's forehead. "Mama loves you," she tells Pudge.
"I promise I won't stab the cat," he says,
"Don't think I won't check up on both of you when I get there," she starts, picking up her baggage,
"I'll be sure to remember,"
"Merry Christmas Finnick," she greets him,
"You too," he returns back.
"Go get laid tonight," she parts as she turns her back on her friend and her cat.
"I'll try," he whispers enough for the cat to fidget at his arms as soon as his owner is out of sight.
Pudge had never taken to like Finnick Odair just as much as Finnick Odair had never taken a liking for the cat. They had both tolerated each other's presence and from time to time would express their disdain for each other. The cat who would leave his clawed markings on his satin curtains would in turn receive no less than a small fishbone for dinner and would end up sleeping on the front of his doorstep.
But as Finnick drove back home to a silent house and an empty page, he had found himself suddenly reaching out from across the passenger seat, his fingers finding that one spot behind his ears that Johanna would often scratch.
"Looks like it's just you and me tonight,"
The cat did not reply to his words and merely went back to sleep. But the comfort of his sudden gesture did not leave him as he purred in agreement.
The empty page continued to mock Finnick as he stared at it. Pudge had taken to sleeping in the middle of his bed tonight as mere form of gratitude from his sudden kindness out of loneliness.
His eyes darts from the screen to the side of his desk where in a golden frame lies a photo of Mags and a younger version of him taken on his first book signing. Mags had always been thoroughly supportive of his writings despite how she had always thought it to be lacking in certain aspects.
Though she had not lived long enough to know Annie Cresta well, Mags had taken to believe that Annie was a good thing for Finnick and would always take the time to ask him about her.
Like Annie, Magdalene Cohen took a loving for planting flowers; he could remember in the summers, her garden would spring with a touch of brightness and flow of fragrance and how her house would be decorated with a variety of peonies, daisies and tulips.
But out of all the flowers she had taken to growing, Finnick would remember her distinct love of snowdrops the most.
"Nana how come those flowers look sad?" young Finnick asks, pointing to the drooping white petals
"They're not sad, young one. That's just how they are." She explains, adjusting her glasses so she could see them better, "They're called snowdrops,"
"Snowdrops," he repeats, admiring the white petals.
"According to legend, the snowdrop became a symbol of hope when Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden." She starts, as she waters a bouquet of Snowdrops.
"When Eve was about to give up hope that the cold winter would never end, an angel appeared, transformed some of the snowflakes into snowdrop flowers, proving that winter eventually gives way to spring" she finishes as 7 year old Finnick helps her adjust the flowers in the vase.
"When your grandpa was still here, he used to give me snowdrops on our anniversary," she says, "he always believed that in every end that comes in our way something beautiful would sprout in its place,"
"How'd you know that?" he asks,
In answer, Mags leans in and pinches his nose as if to answer his question, Finnick scoots away rubbing his nose.
"Oh I always know," she answers.
The sudden ringing of the doorbell jolts Finnick back to the present. The snow has started falling again and Pudge has taken most of the space in the middle of his bed which meant he may have to sleep in the couch for Christmas Eve. Putting down the framed photo of him and Mags, Finnick wonders who at this hour could be ringing at his doorstep.
Had Johanna left him something or a certain someone to keep him company for the night? Or maybe a group of carolers had thought to bother him on this cold night? Or had Johanna's flight had cancelled?
These questions strung around Finnick's mind but what he did not expect was Annie Cresta standing outside holding a pot of snowdrops.
Surprised at her sudden appearance at his doorstep, Finnick could not even begin to think of anything to say considering that he had run out of words to describe exactly how he felt at that moment.
"Hi," she starts.
"Hey," he replies quietly.
"Merry Christmas," she greets, holding out the snowdrops towards him.
"Merry Christmas to you too," was all he could say as he takes the pot of snowdrops from her hands.
His eyes leave hers and focus on the snowdrops, remembering Mags and the holidays spent with her.
"Snowdrops are some of the most beautiful flowers that grow in the winter," she explains,
"Yeah. Mags used to grow them herself" he says, "they're a symbol of hope and new beginnings,"
He looks back at her apologetic green eyes wondering if she ever missed him at all or if she thought of him at least once in the day. Annie meanwhile thought of the words he had wrote and wondered if there were any more words that he could write or if he had any idea how much she loved him.
They stand there engulfed with a flurry of emotions each one suppressed by the potential consequence of their tongues. Finnick takes note of the green of her eyes, her pale lips and the way she pulls her coat closer as if the weather was well actually freezing,
"Oh my god Annie," he starts and ushers her in, "I'm so sorry,"
Annie lets out a giggle as Finnick helps her remove her coat. She takes note of the looming silence in his house, and the dark rooms, empty of any decorations.
"Has it always been this gloomy here?" she asks as Finnick places the pot of snowdrops in the living room.
"Yeah, I'm not really in any mood in celebrating this year's holiday," he says blankly.
Annie eyes the photos atop the fireplace, different versions of Finnick throughout the years and besides him was Mags ageing in every photo but the smile remained the same.
"I'm sorry Finnick,"
"For what?"
"For everything," she replies.
He doesn't say anything at all as he starts the fire in the fireplace his thoughts consumed by the woman sitting behind him. Why he chose to let her in was a question that he was still answering, and at that moment Finnick Odair did not have any answer at all to why she had suddenly found her way back after leaving.
"Why are you here Annie?" he asks, as he takes a seat besides her.
"Do you not want me to be here?" she asks slightly offended.
"No," he counters, "you could have spend your night with someone else, someone better than me,"
She looks up at him suspicion suddenly taking over, "Well I wouldn't be here if I thought someone else could be better than you,"
"Even Eric Damon?" he asks, looking down at his shoelaces.
She smiles knowingly as if finally figuring out a part of him and in answer she leans forward and whispers, "Eric Damon can never ever be anywhere near you,"
He looks at her lips and back to the certainty in her eyes as she leans in and covers his lips with hers. The moment does not take long for Finnick's heart to suddenly start beating fast as he moves in closer to her. For all the women whose lips he had kissed not one of them could ever compare to the softness and eagerness of Annie Cresta's lips. Her hands wrap behind his neck pulling him closer until she falls on the carpeted floor pulling him with her.
He nearly crushes her with his weight as if Annie was not used to his body crushing hers (not that she didn't like it). The action was enough to dissolve them both to a moment of laughter before she captures him again with her lips.
"I don't think I can let you spend Christmas Eve cold and alone in this house," she whispers, her fingers finding the buttons on his shirt.
"If it helps, Johanna has lent me her cat for the holidays," he mutters, his voice dropping down to a nervous chuckle as her fingers carefully undo each button.
"Did she now?" she asks, her hands drawing patterns on his exposed skin,
"Mhmm," he agrees, "he's sleeping on my bed right now,"
"Pity," she answers, as she helps him remove his shirt. His lips find the familiar skin of her neck as does his hands find the buttons of her pants.
"Guess we'll have to take the floor then," she mutters, "not that you won't mind,"
"Fine by me," he agrees, not letting the moment pass by.
The burning wood in the fireplace could not compare to the heat burning in between the lovers' eyes and very soon Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta would find themselves intertwined not anytime soon.
"You know, I was just thinking that I like this," he whispers as his fingers finding the smooth skin of her back under the blanket.
"like what?" she asks, her warm breath tickling his skin.
"I like being with you, and doing things with you. I like lying down here just thinking about nothing and everything all at the same time," he continues as he looks up at the dark ceiling.
She looks up to where he is looking and tries to make out whatever it is he could see that she could not. Unable to find or make out anything she resolves to ask her own.
"What about this?" she asks, propping herself up to reach his face and leaning in to kiss his lips. Her long dark hair tickles him as he breaks the moment,
He replies, "Especially that. I like that a lot."
They both disrupt into a fit of chuckles as Annie adjusts the huge blanket over, yearning to be as close as possible to him. She lays her head back down to his bare chest, hearing the familiar beating of his heart when the question she has been yearning to ask comes in.
"Do you think this is okay?" she asks,
"What do you mean?"
"This," she motions to their position.
"Well I could kick the cat off the bed if you'd like," he suggests,
"No!," she counters, rolling her eyes at his statement as he laughs, "I meant this. Us just doing this,"
"Sleeping over?" he comments. Annie squints her eyes at him.
"Finnick,"
"I'm okay with us just being us. And nothing else." He says, his voice finally taking on a serious note.
"And what is us?" she asks.
The thought hits Finnick Odair for the first time. He had never once taken relationships in any serious matter as he did so with Annie Cresta and he feared over the consequences that could possibly happen if he continued letting her in his life.
But as he stared down at her curious green eyes wide with questions about the status of their "relationship" he could not guarantee a correct answer that could silence the question in their hearts.
"I don't know," he answers quietly, "but if you'd stick around for a bit, maybe we could find out,"
The small smile on her lips was enough to make his heart flutter.
"I'd like that very much,"
Hours later, in the dawn of Christmas morning, Finnick gently carries Annie to bed. Asleep in his arms, dreaming wonderful images in her mind, Finnick Odair thought that there could never be anyone else to him as Annie Cresta is. There was permanence etched in her that he was sure of. Though the permanence she has yet to show him was something he had yet to find out, he liked the idea of learning things with her.
And as Finnick sat in front of the blank page with Pudge staring intently at him with his piercing cat eyes, he thought about Annie Cresta sleeping, he thought of all the feelings, all the questions burning in her mind and the answers he could possibly offer, he thought of the snowdrops Mags had always grown and how the pot Annie reminded him of Mags story.
And as he found his fingers eagerly typing the story he had always wished to tell, it occurred to Finnick that some stories need not to be merely told but to be learned from and be made worthy of experience.
The familiar hands and lips that would greet him from behind are enough of an experience.
But not quite to finish a chapter of a book just yet.