"I'm sorry I hurt you." He whispered, gently reaching up to stroke her hair away from her tear stained face. Several hours had passed since their heated words, and Finnick had sobered enough to realise his words had been too blunt and cutting.
"Why do you say things like that? Do you like hurting me?" her voice cracked and she turned away from him, not yet ready to be so vulnerable in front of him. Her lover was honest to a fault, most especially when he'd had too much to drink. Though she knew he meant well, the demons of their pasts often reared their ugly heads when he was drinking and talked too much.
"You know I don't. I didn't mean to make you feel less…less…"
"Attractive? Desirable? Wanted?" she filled bitterly in when it became obvious he didn't know how to finish the sentence.
"But I compared you favourably!" he argued, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
"You shouldn't have compared me at all." Annie spat. "I know there's an age gap between us. I know you've slept with countless other women. I don't need you to remind me when you've been drinking and don't have the patience to deal with the fall-out when I get upset."
Finnick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry." I whispered. "I was wrong and I'm sorry I made you feel this way. Can you forgive me Darling?" He pleaded.
Annie sighed, the ache in her chest still throbbing from remembered upset and the discomfort from her earlier panic attack still evident in her sore throat. "Of course I forgive you, you fool." She muttered. "When have I ever not forgiven you?" She finally gave in and relaxed fractionally, leaning against his sturdy comforting chest and allowed him to run his fingers through her hair. They stayed like that until evening gave way to night and the summer moon shone a forgiving light through the window.
As it often does, the pain eventually faded. The memory, though no less bitter, receded from the forefront of her mind.