So I'm starting a Hunger Games fic. I've always wanted to try Finnick, so I've planned for it to be based around his games. I had heaps of fun writing this one, and I hope you enjoy it!

Song: 'Dark Days' - Punch Brothers.

disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter One - 'Dark Days'

It's silly to try and look your best on the worst day of the year but, standing in front of the oddly shaped, somewhat dirty mirror, I can't help but worry about my appearance more than the Reaping. I've got no intention of volunteering – it'll go by quickly and then I can finally get to what I've been planning for a while. Today, Annie Cresta will finally see that I can get a girl. That Finnick Odair, the 'scrawny ginger', will win the heart of the lovely May Trighton. Silly Cresta just doesn't seem to believe that there's obviously something there – that there's something beautiful going on between May and I, even if she doesn't know it yet.

Leaning forward, I straighten my collar and just stare at the reflection. Not only does this dress shirt look out of place on me, it feels uncomfortable in this heat. District Four is too humid today, and all I want to do is swim. And I will – after I prove Annie wrong, and wipe the tiny little smirk off of her face. All I have to do is get May to agree to a date with me - just one single date - and I am free to brag as much as I like and Annie can't complain. Her green eyes can beg and her little lips can pout as much as they want, but I will win against this little delusion she has. I'm not unwanted by other girls just because I spend all my free time with her.

The white shirt, despite being as clean as possible, looks too big on me. I've tucked in quite a bit of the fabric and the sleeves are rolled up as much as I can without making it look like I've shoved floats up there. It was my brother's shirt last year and he swears that one day, I'll fill it perfectly. It can't be long now, right? At least it doesn't look like I've shoved a sack over my head.

I can't tell how long I've spent in front of the mirror, trying my best to look as perfect as I can. My hair seems to like me today and I'm able to flip it up into a nice style. This short moment of pride ends quickly when something hits me upside the head.

The front piece falls in front of eyes and I turn quickly, annoyed, "Hey!" My brother stands there, grinning. Tanner, that lucky jerk, doesn't even have to worry about impressing anyone. Not the district, as he's already out of the reaping, or any girls, as he's already engaged. He's as free as one can be for the time being, "Uncalled for!"

He ignores me, "What's the occasion, Finn?"

I turn back to the mirror, scowling as I fix my hair, "You know what day it is."

He laughs and slings an arm around me. It's probably the only laughter in any of the districts right now, and I can't help but admire his optimism – Tanner's always been happy, no matter what. I need some of it if this is going to work out. "Who would've thought that you'd get all dressed up for the Reaping? I'm impressed."

"What," I glance over at him quickly. I'm not this dressed nicely for just the reaping, but he doesn't need to know that. "Because I'm more beautiful than what you were?"

"Not a chance! And it's because you're actually making a proper effort this year," Tanner looks sincere as he says it, and I drop my hands, suddenly not wanting to care about my hair. As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. Normally I'd fix everything quickly then be with Annie until the Reaping began. We'd have lunch with our own families, where the atmosphere is always quiet and sombre. It's never very nice and, as soon as I could, I'd leave and meet with her before we walked to the square together. This year, however, I had something to prove before the ceremony started.

Tanner stops talking and I look over at him, suspicious. He's just watching me, a curiously dull expression on his face. His green eyes betray what he's feeling, though – he's just as scared as I am. Even so, I ask, "What's got you?"

"You," He replies, and I feel both my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Before I can ask, he's already started talking, "What I mean, Finn, is that you're so much...quieter than usual. C'mon, are you sure you're alright?"

I pause, my hands balling into nervous fists at my sides. Everyone's scared for the Reaping – even those illegible to be selected as tribute. And I know I am too. I'm terrified. My name is in that stupid ball nine times – three because of my age, and an extra six for the tessera for the four people in my family. Last year, it had been significantly less because of Tanner, who hadn't let me take out any. We're not the poorest family in the district, but we're not rolling in riches either – we're fishermen, the three of us. Father and Tanner are full time and I help where I can because of school. Because of this, we only have take out small amounts of tessera, enough for two people, that we share between the four of us. We'd been lucky last year. All of us had been on edge as the fancy escort's hand had danced around the small opening of the ball. But at least this year, the chance of my name being drawn is slim compared to the other boys in the district who aren't as well off as the Odairs.

Sighing, I look over at him. It wasn't something that I really wanted to talk about. "I'm fine."

"Don't be stupid – I've know you for your entire life, kid."

"Yeah, but - ...shut up, Tanner," I'm too frustrated to care about my appearance anymore; I shove my hands in my pockets and stare at the wooden floor, hoping that it would somehow swallow me until tomorrow. "I hate it when you get all perceptive."

"You love me."

I manage a short, incredulous laugh, "I guess so."

"You guess?" Tanner sounds unconvinced as I turn back to the mirror, one last time. "Alright, pretty boy, enough face time–" Forcefully, he turns me towards the small kitchen on the other side of the chalet and gives me a shove. I stumbled but catch myself on the door frame. I looked at him accusingly as my hair, once again, falls in front of my face. He merely shrugs, "I'm hungry and we can't start lunch without you."

"Not my fault."

"Uh, yeah – definitely your fault," Despite complaining, Tanner walks over and throws his arm over my shoulder again, giving it a squeeze. It's reassuring in a strange, comforting way and suddenly all I want is for this day to be over.

I'm relieved to actually get outside. Lunch had been quieter and more strained than usual, despite how hard Tanner and our Father had tried to lighten the atmosphere with tiny remarks about how lovely the fish was, or how nice the day was. I appreciated it, honestly. My mother's unusually silent attitude had put everyone on edge – none of us knew how to react, and I felt bad about wanting to leave so soon.

Now, standing outside the house, I take in several deep breaths of the fresh sea air. It's calming, if anything. It's already noon and the sun is high and bright in the sky. There's only an hour or so until the Reaping properly begins. Families are walking past, the children with their small hands tucked tightly in their parents. I can tell the newer tributes as they walk past – they're don't know what to do with themselves. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and close my eyes. I want to forget the worry and everything. The Reaping is going to be quick, the girl is going to say yes and then Annie is going to follow through with her end of the bargain – simple. This will be simple.

Tucking my hands into my pockets, I step onto the path and head against the crowd, towards the beach to meet with Annie. It's always like this. After school and on the weekends, we meet at the more secluded end of the beach – she's a year younger than me but I can't think of anyone else that I trust as much as her. I can see her standing there already, her small petite figure turned towards the water as she just stares out at the waves, twisting and knotting a piece of string in front of her. It's a nervous habit that she's always had for as long as I've known her – her mother makes the fishing nets for a living so it's understandable.

Halfway down the dune, I hear it and stop. A voice – light and tinkling, despite everything – echoes behind me. I'm scared to turn and embarrass myself – May Trighton. I risk a glance over my shoulder. She's with a few of her friends, but it's easy to tell her apart – her light hair is unmistakeable in comparison to the darker hair of her friends. And suddenly I'm nervous. I can feel my hands sweating and I'm debating about throwing this whole deal out of the window and going for it now. The chance of either of us being reaped is minimal in comparison to the other in the district, so why not?

But before I could think of how to go about this, I hear Annie call up the shore, "Finnick!" I turn, somewhat disheartened. With a quick glance back up towards May, it's already too late – they've noticed me and they haven't stopped walking. I've missed my chance to try and finish this bet early.

By now, when I turn back, Annie is at my side. She's watching May leave, just as I was, before she turns back to me, her deep green eyes looking somewhat smug. "What happened? I thought you were confident about this?"

I sigh and stop myself from running a hand through my hair. Instead, I put an arm around her shoulder, "You know, Annie, when you make a bet with someone, you're not meant to purposely ruin it all."

She scrunches her face slightly, the freckles on her nose looking more obvious today than usual, "Finnick Odair, you just want me to tell you the secret to knots so you can beat me at something."

I raise an eyebrow. She's onto me, but as if I'm going to confirm it. I put a hand over my heart, mock hurt, "Doubting me? Well I never." When she doesn't falter, I shrug and pull my arm away, smirking slightly, "Or maybe I just really, really like May."

"Now I definitely doubt you," Annie says, scoffing slightly and heading back up the dune. Her blue-green dress blows slightly in the breeze and, smiling softly, I follow her. I wish we could have stayed at the beach longer, just sitting in the sand and talking like always, but it relieves me to know that we can do exactly that as soon as we're dismissed from the square.

As much as I hate where we're going, I fall into step beside her silently and we follow the people of the district towards the square. It's strange. Annie is still calm and collected, musing in her thoughts beside me, like usual. I tilt my head as I watch her. I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. – I'm always wondering what sort of brilliant things are going on in her head.

It surprises me when she speaks, "What are you feeling, Finn?"

"Huh, that's a bit of a weird question." She turns and looks up at me, eyes curious. I force a smile, "Do you really wanna know? Well, annoyed, for starters, because you completely ruined my chance before –"

She cuts me off, "I was being serious, you know."

"I know, and so was I." When I grin, she hits me in the arm. It doesn't hurt at all, but it's amusing. I surrender anyway, and take a moment to think of something to say – something that won't make her worry. Annie doesn't need to worry about me today when she's got herself to worry about. Not that she really even needs to – last time I asked her, she's only got her name in there twice. "...I'm anxious." She looks curious, so I continue as we walk, "I want to get it over and done with, you know? So afterwards I can talk to May and you can tell me all your secrets."

"It's only one secret," Even so, Annie looks content with my answer. "It's not that important anyway."

"Annie Cresta, all your secrets are important to me!" She looks at me in disbelief – obviously not believing me. "I've kept them all. Like the time when we went fishing and –" Her eyes go wide and before I can finish she tries to clamp a hand over my mouth. The peacekeeper that stands nearby gives us a suspicious look so I take her hand and hold it by her side. He probably thought she was trying to strangle me, and I send her a pointed look, "Believe me yet?"

After a few moments, she pulls her hand from mine, leaving it oddly cold in the humidity, and focuses her gaze forward again. "Yes, yes I do."

Despite the free and calming feeling that I get around Annie, the demeanour that she always has, I get more and more nervous as the square comes into focus. I can see the large screens and, even from this distance they look menacing and out of place. Something colourful is prancing around on the stage between the two glass balls and it's obvious that this is our escort. I don't know if Lyddie or whatever her name was has returned after falling off the stage last year – not that it really matters. They're only here to escort two of us to our death.

I don't know where to look to. There are Peacekeepers lining the square, and it appears as though the number has increased since last year. They're standing at the corners of the stage, beside the children in their sections, and between the adults and crowds in the perimeter. Annie is quiet beside me as we head towards the tables at the back of the stands. I can tell that she's worrying, even though I tried to fix it - twisting her hands in front of her like there's no tomorrow.

Before we split into lines towards the separate sections, I quickly pull her into a hug. It surprises her; I can tell because she stiffens. Holding her tightly, for those few moments, she can probably hear my heart thumping in my chest. When Annie worries, I worry. It's infectious and I don't need it now – neither one of us do. I'm trying to control it, trying to think of something comforting to say, but the only thing that comes out it, "I couldn't help myself."

But she seems to understand. Pulling away, Annie looks at me and it's like she's staring right through me. She's always done this and it really unnerves me how much she can tell from one look. "Good luck, Finnick." She gives my hand a squeeze with her small hands - rough due to those knots that she's always tying - and then she's gone, turning and heading towards her line.

And it's in times like these that I'm so grateful to have Annie as a friend. I can feel the worry and anxiousness lessening, like she's just sucked it all away. I feel safer now. I doubt that she'll hear me, but I hope she knows it anyway, "And good luck to you, Cresta."

I wait a few seconds before joining the end of the short line. Everyone else has already lined up in anticipation and fear, just waiting for the ceremony to end, before it's even started. I mutter my name to the sharp faced Peacekeeper at the registration table before heading towards the roped off section. I can see the other boys in my class standing side by side, some looking completely anxious, and others, confident. There are also several I don't know – the district is so big that only the children from the outer parts are transported down in rickety peacekeeper vehicles, without their family. I feel for them as I doubt that I could ever get through the reaping without knowing that my family were supporting me from the sidelines.

Looking around, I can see only Tanner's rusty hair and placid face amongst the families in the perimeter, but it's definitely reassuring, nonetheless. I'm certain that my mother and my father are right there beside him, hidden behind the taller, leaner males in the district.

The resounding tap of the microphone echoes through the massive speakers in the square, and I can see several of the more jittery kids jump. Not that I want anyone to go into the arena, but part of me really hopes that none of them are ever put against a Career tribute from 1 or 2.

Our mayor, a somewhat podgy man by the name of Hector Vedge, stands and begins the ceremony in his monotonous voice. Beside me, a few of the braver boys risk whispering to each other, but many take one look at the peacekeepers and keep their mouths shut. It's a smart idea.

Like usual, he goes through the history of Panem, a story which many of us have heard since birth. It's taught in schools and repeated at all the major ceremonies, and many of us have memorised the most of it.

I take this time to zone out and think of something more interesting than this. Like how at the very end of the reaping, as long as nothing stops me, I am going to walk right up to May and ask her out. Annie thought it was a stupid idea because apparently I don't really even like her. I challenged her on it, and she offered a bet – if May agreed, Annie would teach me the secret to her knots, but if May disagreed, I had to teach her to use a trident properly. It was something I couldn't refuse. After all, Finnick Odair never backs out of a bet. I plan on spending most of the afternoon at the beach in the sea breeze. The humidity in the square is suffocating, even more so because at least half the district is crammed together.

The only way I can tell that Mayor Vedge is finished is because it looks like some sort of muttation has made its way on stage. Despite already having everyone's attention, the aqua looking lady taps the microphone and daintily clears her throat before beginning. It's clear to see, even before she's said anything, that she thinks that she's better than us. Her dress is a deep blue colour and it's twisted up her body like a possessed wave. The ridiculous, round hat on her head wobbles as readjusts her stances, and it looks as though a clam has eaten the top half of her head. I wonder how this could ever be considered fashionable at all.

Once again, she clears her throat, "Good tidings and a happy 65th Hunger Games to each and everyone one of you!" Her voice is high pitched and nasally, and it's obvious that quite a few of the kids are trying not to look amused. Blended with her strange Capitol accent, she sounds ridiculous. I take a moment to look over at the female section, and struggle to see Annie or May amongst the others. On stage, she continues, "I, Asta Locking, am proud to be here with you all!"

I recognise the name. Asta Locking was the escort for district six. When Tanner and I watched the reapings last year on our small television, we pointed out the ridiculous costume that she wore – a bizarre silver and gold swirling suit with what looked like a miniature wheel for a hat. One glance over at my brother and I know that it's her – he recognises her too. It's no wonder why Asta looks so happy - she must have gotten a promotion after Lyddie was sacked. A career district is just the thing an escort wants.

"Going by tradition, we'll start with the ladies!" She wobbles precariously over to the glass ball on the left, one hand on her strange clam-hat. Her hand hovers for a moment over the opening before plunging right into the mass of papers. Asta snatches up one and walks back to the microphone. She clears her throat again, and I don't dare breath. All I can think of is Annie. She's got the slimmest chance, but that's nothing in the reaping.

"Lilah Saxon!"

As I let out a sigh of relief, I hear many in the crowd gasp and mutter. A woman screams before bursting into what sounds like hysterical sobs. After a few seconds, I can see why. A small, dark haired girl from the very front of the section squeezes out into the aisle, blue eyes wide with fear. A twelve year old – her very first year – and she's already been reaped. I wait for someone to volunteer for her – surely there must be a career or an older sibling – but as she makes her way slowly and stiffly onto the stage, shaking like a leaf, I, along with many other people, realise that there's no one there for her.

It's quiet in the square as Asta scurries over and guides the girl to her position on the stage. After patting Lilah's head once with her manicured hand, Asta returns to the microphone, "Isn't she just lovely! Perfect!" She's answered with silence, but it doesn't seem to affect her. In the crowd somewhere, I can still hear the woman crying. On stage, Lilah looks just about ready to burst into tears as well. It's obvious to many of us that she won't last long in the arena but, despite this, I can't help but feel relieved for Annie.

I look over quickly and I can see her staring at me, her eyes thankful yet worried. She has every right to be. After all, she is safe for another year. She sends me a soft smile and I send her one back – twenty more minutes or so and we'll be free for the rest of the afternoon.

On stage Asta has moved to the male ball and dances around the opening with her fingers, before dipping her hand into the neat, white papers. Around me I hear the boys draw in a collective breath of anticipation as the aqua lady returns to the microphone.

She flattens out the piece of paper and clears her throat, "Finnick Odair."

I almost feel the need to correct her for mispronouncing my name in her silly accent before I realise what's happened. My breath catches in my throat and my knees lock up. It wasn't supposed to work like this.

I'm practically frozen with shock and, after a few moments, Asta reads out my name again, curious. Beside me, a few of the boys murmur and pat me on the back. One actually shoves me out of the pack and I stumble into the aisle. Looking around, I try not to panic. I'm frightened, my heart is thumping loudly and, as I look around, Annie catches my eye.

She's forced her way to the edge of her section and she's staring at me with her big, green eyes. If anything, she looks exactly how I feel – distraught and hopeless. I don't want to look at her - it's painful, even now. I need to do something. All of Panem will be watching, so I need to play this right – starting now.

I hope you liked it and there is definitely more on the way because Finnick is fun to write!

Bye for now! :)