I don't own the Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Chapter Eleven
"Finnick?" I gasp bellow him, restraining from the urge to scream. His eyes are clouded over and I'm actually scared that he would genuinely harm me. "Finnick? What are you doing?"
My voice finally seems to get through to him, knocking out of his trance. I can see the change in his eyes as they clear up.
"Katniss?" He hauls himself off of me as fast as he can, sitting down across from where I'm lying on the floor. "Shit! Katniss!? What the hell are you doing here!"
Finally pushing myself up from my position, I sit cross-legged in front of him. I don't answer him immediately; instead I squint as I look at him. He wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt calmly, as if it's a daily routine. It's then that I realize that Finnick doesn't have a fever he was having a nightmare.
Finnick's gaze drops from me and looks towards the handkerchief that I dropped when I was tackled to the floor. The ice has fallen out from its previously wrapped position and is splayed out on the floor. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and curiosity and I flush in embarrassment.
"I thought you were sick," I mutter, purposely looking away from him. "You were sweating." Finnick laughs at my answer, quickly easing back into his charming façade.
"And here I was hoping that you came to visit me for something a little more…" he drifts off as if he's searching for the perfect word. "Entertaining." He winks at me.
I scoff at him disgustingly, "Only in your dreams, Odair!" But my tone is light and joking.
"And what a wonderful dream that would be," he purrs, throwing me a smoldering look. I smirk back at him and give Finnick a once over. He looks absolutely terrible, like he's run a marathon and hasn't taken a shower in days. His skin looks paler than usual and his eyes are red and dry.
"You look awful," I tell him dryly. "Is this what the infamous Finnick Odair looks free from all makeup?"
"I would tell you that you look bad too, but you should know that already," Finnick throws back to me. I smile at him, happy that he's back to normal. "But really, why are here?" Finnick asks me. His fingers splay out and he feels the ground until his hand finally makes contact with the blanket, messily thrown half on, half off of the bed. He grasps it tightly and pulls it towards him, picking at it insistently.
"Just thought I'd give you a little visit," I say to him sarcastically. "It's been way too long."
"Easy there, Fire Girl, it's only been a couple of hours," Finnick draws his words out, pulling at a lone piece of thread he's found in the blanket.
I stay quiet for a few seconds, running over what to say in my head. "Can't sleep," I mutter.
"You better," Finnick's voice is dark now, serious. "You need to go to sleep Katniss, it's important that you do. You'll be weak in the arena."
"Really now?" I laugh dryly.
"What time is it?" Finnick ignores my attempt to insult him.
"Last time I checked, it was 4:30," I shrug at him. The victor from District Four curses and I flinch back at him, not used to his inappropriate language. Finnick is suave and charming in public, not at all vulgar like he is now.
"Jesus, Katniss!" He pushes himself up from the floor and I look up at him as he stands above me. Finnick reaches down and I take his offered hand, hefting myself up after him.
Finnick turns from me and sits down on the edge of his bed, gesturing to the spot next to him. In turn, I look at him incredulously.
"You're insane," I laugh. "If you think that I'm just going to hop into bed with you, you're freaking crazy!"
"Oh God, does it look like I'm in the mood for sex, Katniss?" Finnick scoffs back at me. My posture seems to drop immediately after and I can feel a blush start to fill into my cheeks, embarrassed at assuming him to take advantage of me. It wasn't even six hours ago that we were having a deep conversation up on the roof and I dubbed him trustworthy. Seems like old habits don't die, I think to myself, reminding myself that for years before I even met him, I've been judging him and calling him a manwhore.
"Sorry," I mutter, dropping into position next to him. He puts an arm around my shoulder and I question myself on whether or not I should shrug him off. I chose not to, deciding that it's too much trouble.
"If you want to cry or something, I'm fine with it," Finnick grins. I begin to laugh at him, but without my control my giggles turn into sobs and I shakily raise a hand to wipe away my tears. Well, this certainly wasn't what I was expecting to do when I decided to visit Finnick. Actually, I don't know what I was planning on doing when I met up with him. Pain rests heavily on my chest and it isn't long before I'm gasping for breath. Damn the Games and President Snow to Hell. Damn Haymitch for being too drunk to properly mentor me and damn Peeta for saving me all those years ago. Most importantly though, damn Finnick for somehow breaking through the walls I put up to defend myself. Screw him for making me out to be a weak, little girl. It's hard to breathe and I have to bend over to collect myself, heavily inhaling through my mouth and shakily releasing it.
Finnick soothingly rubs at my bed as my tears stain his sheets and I can't see his face but I'd imagine that he's just as calm and collected as he usually is. His arms grasp at mine, firmly but gently, and he pulls me into him.
Exhaustion kicks in and I allow him to let me rest against his chest, too tired to push him off; too tired to act strong and confident in myself. I furiously rub away at my face, smearing the salty tears against my skin, uncaring of my appearance. A few stray tears continue to escape from my eyes and I inwardly curse myself for acting weak.
I curl into myself, my arm hugging myself close and I dig my fingernails into the flesh of my arms. Maybe the physical pain will drown out the emotional pain I'm feeling right now, I hope. Finnick seems to take notice of this and grips my hands in one of his, pulling them away from my skin. I scorn him for a second. Can't he just allow me this one thing? I have never asked much from him.
"Katniss, be strong," he croons down to me and for once I'm actually soothed by his smooth woods. Usually when he allows his voice to be this sugar sweet, he's saying something charming and not at all true. But for once, he seems genuine using this tone.
"I can't, Finnick! I fucking can't!" I screech at him, not paying attention to the volume and we both look at the door, expecting someone to appear at the doorway. "I'm going to die in there," I say more quietly now. "I'm just going to end up another dead body that they're going to pick up."
"No, you're not," he tells me firmly.
"How do you know that, Finnick?" I question him, defeated. Finnick can't promise me something like that.
"I just do," Finnick soothes, his hand running up and down my back. It's silent for a long time, and somehow we wind up lying down in the bed, my head on his chest and his arms around me. I listen to his heartbeat, which is loud and strong, and feel the rise and fall of his chest, which signals that he's breathing.
"I'm scared," I admit, my voice small. "I don't want to die."
"It's okay, Katniss. I was scared when I was in your position, too." Honestly, I'm surprised at that; Finnick doesn't seem like the type to worry about anything.
"What did you do?" I ask him, looking for his guidance. "What did you do to make it go away?"
"Nothing," Finnick hums. "There's nothing you can do."
"That sounds reassuring," I mutter, allowing myself to be sarcastic again. His chest rumbles and I realize that he's laughing at me, but I don't bother looking up at his face.
"Nice to know that even though you're going through Hell right now, you still retain that attitude," Finnick mumbles. I growl out a response, not even paying attention to what I'm saying, and close my eyes.
"I'll wake you up tomorrow," I can hear Finnick assure me.
"Thanks," I murmur. Black consumes my worried thoughts and I'm plunged into a dreamless sleep. For once, I'm fully comfortable and in peace since I've been reaped. For once, I'm allowing myself to be completely at Finnick's mercy, but not at all caring about the outcome.
It's been too long~ But I've been so busy. I started school and I still have work and ohmigod, books are so expensive! ._. Feel sorry for me, people. Asides from that, I'm just really, really tired and my laptop broke down and I was terrified because it has all of my fanfiction on it and everything but it started up again, although I don't completely trust it, too. So, pray that it doesn't break down again because it's the only that I have to write on. My desktop broke too, and so I don't have back-up if it breaks. I've saved my next chapter on here though, which is the longest one I've ever written. 5,000 words! It took me awhile and it's not much compared to other people's chapters, but it's a lot for me.