Hi guys! Hope you had a lovely Easter! I'm so ready for summer now.

Anyway, to the story ;) Soooo I know this is a really short chapter, but I just wanted to sort of do a tiny little bit of Annie's POV after she's finally heard Finnick out just to get a glimpse of how she reacts. Next few chapters will be prominently Finnick's POV :) Also, don't be fooled by this chapter. I definitely love Finnick and Annie and want them to get together (obviously), but I think the journey of how they get there and the wait makes the romance even more worth it. So even though they are "friends" now, be expecting some angst and stuff, because I don't want them to get together right away. I want it to be a surprise.

And while you're at it, please review. Because I love it and it really keeps me writing this story. I haven't gotten too many yet, but it's all good :) I'm just glad that you all who have read it so far seem to be enjoying it. But really, tell me your thoughts. I love constructive criticism, or happy comments too. They make me love writing this even more.

So, here you go. Chapter Five.

Chapter 5: Annie

I'm so confused, so heartbroken, so in shock, so… sorry.

When he finally finishes talking and simply stares off into the distant mountains, eyes closed and lips turned upwards into a painful grimace, I try to mask my horrified face and guilt-ridden heart. All to no avail, of course.

Everything misguided I have ever thought about Finnick Odair these past five years, here in this moment with his usually confident, composed eyes looking so vulnerable, I vehemently take back. With every ounce of strength my heart can muster, I forgive him in a mere second; something that I always used to think would take me years to do. After he shut me out, I never thought I would be able to see his way and understand why he did what he did, even though every time I saw his hollow look and sad eyes I forgave him a little more, even if it was subconscious. Now, I realize that all those days that I tried to be mad with him, my thoughts couldn't have been more wrong.

I don't understand how someone could do this. How someone could take my Finnick, the lanky, funny fourteen-year-old idiot and turn him into a used and broken nineteen-year-old man. Suddenly, I'm mad. And not just mad, but I'm furious. I hate President Snow, I hate the Capitol, and I hate anyone who ever had anything to do with deciding that it would be a fantastic idea to sell the desirable tributes like money. Prostitution is illegal! It's disgusting… It's wrong!

It surprises me, considering I've never felt this strongly about anything before. I've always tried to seek out the best in people, to be honest, because it makes living in this country with all of the Games and death and sadness just a little bit easier to bear. If you find the good in people and show them the good they possess, it makes everyone a little happier. But right now, with the thought of those strange Capitol people simply paying for Finnick as a pleasurable prized possession and then putting him back on the shelf only for him to be used again like some communal toy, I can't even begin to feel any remorse for the terrible thoughts I'm thinking. Normally I would flinch away from such cruel words, but they explode into my head. I can't stand this. His pain. Even worse, knowing that I've blamed for so many years when I had no idea what was happening to him.

So many words bubble up to the surface of my tongue, willing them to spew out, but I hold them back. Nothing I say will make his pain go away. His situation is unparallel to anything I had ever imagined the Capitol capable of doing, and now I'm speechless, staring at my former best friend with a sense of genuine sympathy for what feels like the first time in forever. What he has gone through: it is unimaginable.

"Finnick…" I murmur, completely lost in those emerald eyes of his that are shining with a pain so palpable it's stifling. "I'm sorry," I say, my eyes wet and teary. I know I should not be crying; if anything, he is the one who should be upset. But I can't stop myself, knowing that we've wasted so many years apart when we both needed each other so badly. And now, my imminent death is only a few days away.

I start to shudder at that thought, the one of my inevitable demise, the fear pooling in my stomach and rising quickly, causing a shaky, cold nervousness to rack my body. I'll be gone soon, and after listening to Finnick tonight, my problems seem small and almost unimportant. Almost immediately, I know what I have to do.

It won't be easy. We both have lost each other over these past years, and regaining back that trust and easy, comfortable nature between us will be a difficult task. But it doesn't matter. He needs me, and even though I'll be gone soon, I need him too. It's almost funny how it's taken us all this time to realize that.

But what if I hurt him even more? What if these next few days we grow close again, and then I die? What would he do then? What if he gave up? What if I gave up? What if I was the reason he lost his desire to live? What if, what if, what if, what if…

I push these thoughts out of my head. He's not that attached to you, Annie. Calm down. He's spent five years away from you without a hitch. These next few days aren't going to be some be-all-end-all for him. He has Mags, that Johanna girl from Seven he was talking to today…

They'll only be everything to me, of course, considering these are the last few days of my life and the other fact that he's the only one here who truly understands me.

I've just made up my mind when he finally opens his eyes and peers at me to gauge my reaction. I wonder what he sees there. Suddenly, he looks like the young boy with the experienced hands, begging me to show him how to tie another knot, not the sexy, Capitol heartthrob who loves a different woman every single night. This one glance at him hardens my resolve to a solid, concrete determination, and so without another thought, I lean in and throw my arms around his neck, grasping his too-expensive, Capitol-made shirt tightly in my manicured hands. He smells exactly the same as he used to: salt and sun tan lotion, mingling together in a scent that instantly makes me feel at home, even though home is thousands of miles away.

He buries his face in my long, wind-whipped hair and we sit, wrapped around each other, holding on tight to keep from falling apart. I'm not sure how many minutes pass before I finally find my voice again.

"Finnick, I want to say this, and you will not interrupt me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every bad thought I've ever had about you these past five years. When I saw you turn into someone else, I became so… angry. I said bad things. I thought bad things. But most of all, I was just… so confused because I had lost my best friend. Now, all I want you to know is that I never really meant any of it. I just wanted my Finnick back. And now I know that it was never your fault at all that I couldn't' reach him. It was Snow's." My voice sounds unbearably sad, matching my heavy, poignant mood and causing a weighted pain to settle in my heart. But abruptly, while I'm mulling over my long-overdue apology, my cheeks start to tingle with a rosy pink as I realize what I just called him. Mine.

Finnick doesn't react to my use of the possessive word though, or at least he doesn't show it; he only strokes my hair and whispers, "I know, Annie. I know."

My cheeks are wet, and I realize I've been crying. Not for me, but for Finnick. For everything he's lost, for everything he's witnessed. His heartbreak at nineteen years is enough to last someone a lifetime. I'm blubbering now, awkwardly sobbing into the fabric of shirt, and all I can keep repeating is, "I'm sorry…. I should have known… I'm sorry…"

Eventually, Finnick's shoulder muscles relax as my crying turns into sniffling, and he turns his gaze on me abruptly, stunning me into silence with his liquid-green, ocean eyes. Out of everything about him, his eyes are the one thing that remain completely unchanged. Now, when I look into them, I see that same little boy, who still knows all my secrets and stories.

Finnick's irises are now completely serious, all traces of sadness somehow gone within moments. He's always had a gift for making a dark situation lighter with his unmistakably teasing eyes and witty humor, but now they aren't dark or pitiful: they're simply so… real, unlike the teasing, bright mask that he's always seemed to wear here in front of the cameras. He looks honest, like himself for once. "So," he whispers, putting his lips to my ear, "Are we friends now?" His warm breath tickles.

I make an attempt to roll my eyes, but he sees right through my fragileness. After his story, I can't seem to look at him without wanting to break down and cry for everything he's suffered.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs, "And I'll take that as a yes." He chuckles, his bright eyes twinkling with that contagious happiness. Now I can't stop smiling, my guilt momentarily forgotten, and I probably look like an idiot, but I don't care. He's smiling widely too, hands still resting on my shoulders. For so long, we've been apart. Now, I never want it to be that way again, even if we do have so little time left.

So I face my body out towards the city lights, leaning against the brick edge of the building and resting my head on Finnick's shoulder. This, us, feels so natural and right in this moment that I don't ever want it to end. I can't even remember dinner two hours ago, when we sat only a table apart even though I felt worlds away from him. I was prepared to forget and never forgive him: now I've already let him back in.

I know I've been thinking it will be hard for Finnick and me to become friends again, but when he begins to stroke pieces of my hair back with his long fingers, I'm second-guessing myself. A friendship like ours, especially after all we've gone through, isn't one that can be marred by time or distance or heartbreak. It's too… good.

As I lay my head against his shoulder and his chin rests atop my head, it's as if we've never left each other. Our friendship is now starting up from right where it left off.

I've already become the girl from home again, his best friend. And when I feel his arm wrap protectively around my waist, my heart clenches and I know without a doubt, I've already, almost too eagerly, allowed him to reclaim my heart just as fully.