Merry Christmas, guys. I hope you enjoy this one. I've been waiting for this for FOREVER.
Chapter 15: To Realize
It's been almost two months.
And I've only managed to avoid Annie for a week. Whether that's holing myself away on my father's old fishing boat and spending all day at peace on the inky, smooth ocean, or trading catfish and other nets and things I've found of my mother's or that I've made myself, it's not working. Either way, I have no use for the excess of food or the excess of money or goods that usually comes from trading, so I give it all to Annie's family. They aren't necessarily surviving off scraps, but I know that a little extra security could only help. And I have too much already.
Annie doesn't know I'm the one leaving the trades obviously. And neither does her family.
I've only made the most standard yet sturdy nets that almost any capable person in 4 could so that they don't recognize me in the detail of the weaving. If I did anything more complicated, I'm sure Annie would realize. Hell, I've learned everything I know from her, and it'd only make things worse between us if she found out that I was trying to help her family while right now she believes that I hate her.
She's realized that I'm making excuses, obviously. That I've never done this before and that something is wrong. But because she's sweet, innocent Annie, she's giving me my space. She isn't knocking on my door, demanding to know what's wrong. She simply cares enough to trust me and whatever I'm doing, even if it's stupid as hell. And that makes my heart ache even more.
Of course, eventually, this time, if I kept ignoring her like the selfish bastard I am, I don't think she'd give us up so easily.
Us. The word makes a shiver roll down my spine in a new, strangely pleasant way. What are we, me and Annie? Friends, obviously. But what does that entail for us?
Saving each other's lives. Teaching each other to make nets and swim and knowing all of each other's secrets. Growing up together. Sharing the same pain that so few people can understand. Making ginger tea next to a cozy fire and then curling up under an old, wool blanket. Telling stories and laughing at things that make me feel innocent and light again. Staring at her eccentric, emerald eyes and losing myself in them as she says the simplest things: something about her day, the weather, my day, our lives. The way her fingers gently run through my hair when she reads distress on my face, and the way her liquid, warm voice always says the exact words I need to hear. Her hair when she first wakes up in the morning, knotty and tangled yet beautiful all the same, as she pads into my kitchen after falling asleep on my sofa after staying too late. Her face right before she bursts into a fit of laughter when I make a stupid joke or raise my eyebrows and wink like I do at all of the Capitol women. Her head resting on my shoulder as she nods off to Mags knitting a scarf and me stroking the top of her head. And the way it makes me feel to know I can understand someone and they can understand me with just a simple look.
It makes me feel like after all these years of having too much money and riches and women and a huge house but being without a family and never having a real home, with warmth and laughter and happiness… I feel like I'm home when I'm with her.
No matter where I am, no matter what threats the Capitol poses, even when Snow sends letters saying Annie's relieved of her victor duties and has been written off by the public as mentally unstable and should be portrayed that way- she keeps me sane. I have so many reasons to be careful with Annie in order to protect her image and to keep her safe from Snow, to keep her out of the public eye, away from harm and safe as a "mentally unstable" poor girl who was ruined by the Games. For her, I have to give whatever this is we have up. I have to explain my reasoning. I have to let her know why, even though she won't be easy to convince.
But this week without her has been close to hell. And in two days, I leave for the Capitol for a three-week stint with all of my usual clients, plus the few usual new names, and then another week of general publicity controlled by Snow. I must be seen out in popular bars and hangouts, going home with mysterious women, and having the time of my life in the Capitol in order to reiterate just how much of a womanizer I am. It's been Snow's strategy for me since the day I turned sixteen, before then even, and I know it won't ever change.
Just then, a louder-than-usual knock at my door interrupts my sudden spiral downward as I envision my hellish time in the Capitol.
I fling open the door, on edge with the loud banging persisting, and it's Mags. The pounding stops, and my eyebrow wrinkles.
"What are you doing, Mags? It's freezing outside and you're not wearing-"
She interrupts me, something very out of character for someone like Mags. "I came from your girl's house, and we," she motions between the two of us, "need to talk."
I suck in a deep breath and prepare to argue. "Mags," I warn, "This is between me and her and-"
"No, son, it's not. I am your family, and so is she. And the two of you not speaking is not okay with me."
"Mags, I'm not avoiding her because I want to! I want to protect her! I'm not good for her with everything that's happening and if Snow wants her to disappear and fade into the background as some unstable, hospitalized patient for the rest of her life she can't do that next to me! She could still live a normal life and have kids and get married and be happy and have all of those things and be safe from Snow forever! Don't you see? That's a better circumstance than any of the rest of us has gotten, with our families killed and being sold as prostitutes! I don't want that for her! I want a sense or normal for her. Someone to love and kids and a house and a happy life." My voice is broken now. "Mags, I want that for her. I want everything for her. I just can't be the one to give it."
Mags' face softens with understanding and she rubs my shoulder with a wrinkled hand. "Finnick… you don't understand… that girl next door will not be happy without you. And I wouldn't necessarily say she's safe from Snow either. Think of her family. For what she did, even if she fades into the background now, people would be angered if Snow killed a victor, but they would never know about her family being gone, just like they didn't know about ours when they were killed either." Her eyes are shining with tears. "Not one of us is safe, so don't think that you'd be any worse for Annie. And even if you were worse for her, son, would you be doing what's best for her and protecting her? You'd only be making her unhappy. She would not get married or have children or become a happy person without you here, Finnick my dear. That is the truth, and I've seen it in both of your eyes. Now, I was also not born into this world yesterday and I realize you have yet to admit it to yourself, boy. But you need her. She knows she needs you. If she's found the words for it yet, I'm not sure. But Finnick, oh, it's plain as the sun's rising and setting over this sea how you feel about her! It's written on your face every single day."
My heart is a swirling mess of emotions, and as I'm desperately trying to listen to everything Mags is saying I feel like I'm losing my footing on the ground. I collapse into the sofa and do the only thing I can think of, which is sit blankly and stare, until Mags brings me a steaming cup of tea and starts to pat soothing circles into my back.
Finally, the words come, easier to anyone than they ever have before. If it was anyone else, I would not be able to admit the way I'm feeling right now. Maybe I could admit it to Annie, if all of my confusion wasn't centered on her.
My voice is shaky and hoarse. "I'm scared, Mags."
"I know, son."
"I—I—I don't think I can do it. My family's gone, and all I do is give and give and give myself away to all of these people that I feel like I really don't even know who I am anymore, except for when I'm with you and Annie. But there's still this shadow of this other part of me that weighs down the rest, and I hate it. I just—whenever I go to the Capitol, I feel like they win and I keep losing. I can't keep Annie a part of this. I can't—I don't know how to…" I can't say the word I'm thinking out loud.
"Love someone?"
I freeze, and Mags feels it. She rubs my tense shoulders gingerly, reminding me to breathe. I do. "That's not a bad thing, Finnick. And you know how to do it. You already do it. Snow just wants you to think you don't, and you just haven't admitted it yet. And sometimes, admitting it- that's the most important part of it."
All I do is sit there in her arms until the light turns black outside and Mags wants to go back over to Annie's before the nightmares settle in or before Annie worries about where Mags has gone.
She's at the door when I burst.
"Mags! Can you—I mean, I would ask but it's so late… ask Annie if she would come meet me at the beach tomorrow, near the dock? She'll know where I mean. I—was thinking maybe we could go on a picnic or something on my dad's boat, maybe stay on the beach yet if she doesn't want to go out on the water? Will you please tell her to come? Meet me there at noon?"
Mags smiles her toothy smile, then nods. "Of course, Finn."
With that, the door shuts quietly and I'm watching her walk off my porch and across the way back into Annie's now dim-lit house. It's only then I realize it's raining, hard, and the smell in the air, that fresh mingled scent mixed with an air of grass and cold-infused air, permeates my nostrils and rushes me back into the warmth of my living room. I hurry upstairs to lay in bed, feeling shaky and almost regretful for so many different reasons all at once now that Mags, my rock of sanity, has left for the night. I'm right back to my fears of Snow hurting Annie because of me or any variation of the above, and soon it's impossible to sleep. I'll be tired tomorrow for my day with Annie, but I can't face any of those demons I see in my dreams right now.
I don't want to Snow to hurt her. But then my mind is drifting and drifting to what Mags said about it being written plain on my face and loving someone and admitting it….
My mind becomes a live wire. I can't think. I repeat the same thing over and over until the morning light rises in my window.
It is storming. The air is cold. I can't love her.
It is storming. The air is cold. I can't love her.
It is storming. The air is cold. Do I love her?
It is storming. The air is cold. I can't love her.
It is storming. The air is cold. I think I might be in love with her.
And then it doesn't matter, because I'm getting up and getting dressed and scarfing down breakfast. I'm exhausted emotionally and physically and I know I look like hell, but I don't care. I decide I need to go down to the beach, even though it can't be later than eight, and that I'll just wait for her there. I plop down into the sand, relieved, and spread out in front of the calm, early morning waves and listen to the steady wooshing of them. Seagulls fly overhead and dip down for their morning meals as I dig my hands into the grainy sand, desperately searching for a tether to reality. The time passes quickly and I watch the sky in order to keep track of time.
She shows up at what, judging from the sky, looks to be right on time.
Even though I'm dressed in a light-wash blue, button down with my sleeves rolled up and light shorts, my face still has to look rough and my hair tousled. But Annie on the other hand, even as she's walking towards me, looks radiant. She's in a brilliant yet simple red sundress that has thick straps yet dips down into what Odiva would call a masterfully planned, gorgeous sweet-heart neckline. But this moment is just us, no one else, and for that, I'm grateful. Nobody else to judge her appearance or what she's wearing: just me, to see her with my own eyes and say that she looks beautiful the way she is, in her own clothes, with her own face. Her dark, chestnut hair waves gently down her back and hits her shoulder enticingly, while her emerald eyes are as radiant as ever, and her cheeks glow pink. Her bronze skin glistens in the early afternoon sun and right now, she's the Annie I know and envision when I picture the person I want to come home to not just after a particularly rough time in the Capitol, but after every single day of my life.
My heart is about to beat out of my rib cage when I remember Mags' words from last night, and I try to suppress thoughts of it.
It's only then we both realize we've been gawking at each other for too long.
"Hi," she says shyly.
"Hey," I say, taking a step closer towards her. My next words blurt out of my mouth before I can stop them. "You look good."
She smiles her soft smile, just a hint of concern peeking through as her eyes focus on mine. "You look tired."
I chuckle. "Wow. Thanks for the compliment."
"Any time."
That word… it makes my heart ache. And before I know it, I'm closing the distance between us in three strides and crushing her to my chest in a hug so tight she probably can't breathe. But she hugs back anyway, and that comforting scent of vanilla envelops me and once again I find myself thinking, I am home.
"I've missed you," I say. I know it's not fair because I've been avoiding her, but I still feel the need to say it.
"Me too, Finn. Me too." And I can tell she's confused. But for now, we don't bring it up. We sit down in the sand her head in my lap as she sprawls out and we wait until we're hungry for lunch. When I ask if she wants to eat on the boat, it surprises me that she says yes. I haul it off the dock and we spend the afternoon out at sea, the sun tanning our skin and blinding our eyes as we laugh and talk about pointless things, anything light to distract us from the strain of this past week.
"Finn, you're burning."
"I am not. I'm a bronzed god, remember? I don't burn."
Annie laughs her tinkling laugh as the wind whips her hair into a knotty mess that somehow still frames her beautiful, heart-shaped face. Everything about her is soft. "Really? Because whenever we were little I remember begging you to put on that sunblock… and you still didn't and you peeled like those lobsters at Gertrude's seafood market."
"Ha ha. Very funny, Ann. I think you're paler than me," I joke.
Her mouth widens in mock horror, and she reaches her hand over the side of the boat to splash me.
I guffaw. "What was that for?"
"For nothing. For being you." Annie smiles though.
There's a bit of silence, and then something occurs to me again.
"I'm still impressed, Annie. That you're out on the water like this. I'm proud." There's a hint of that pride in my voice too as I wait for her to speak. She's staring at the choppy waves lapping the side of our boat.
"Well," she says, "This water is different than… that water. That water was clear and scary because you could see right through it and everything reflected and…" she shudders. "This water is different. This water smells like salt and feels like home. It sort of reminds me of you too."
I wink. "That's why it's your favorite, isn't it?"
"Don't be so cocky, Finnick Odair. I never said that." But she's laughing and standing up to grab my hand. "Come on."
"What?" I ask, dumbfounded.
"Jump in with me!" she shouts.
I haven't seen Annie this happy and carefree since before her Games. I don't have to be told twice.
We jump into the large, teeming sea hand in hand.
The sun has fallen behind some clouds as we swim around, splashing and floating and gazing, and after about an hour Annie bets me the first steaming cup of Mags' tea that it is about to storm. So we hop into our boat and head for the shore, reluctantly on my part, and I think hers too. Today was such a needed, nice break from reality, and for me, I'm leaving soon.
It's almost sunset when the first drops of rain fall, and the sky is darkening. Annie looks at me with a wistful smile in her eyes as I hurry to get our boat back to the dock before the real torrential rains set in. But for now it's just a drizzle, and her quiet voice easily breaks over the light pitter-patter.
"Finnick, I had a good time today."
"Me too," I say, and I think the sincerity in my voice is what melts her shining eyes a little further. Her next question comes out in a whisper that somehow sounds extra loud, even over the sound of the rain.
"Why were you avoiding me this week?"
The hurt in her eyes paired with that unmistakable vulnerability that I felt last night is overpowering, and all at once my bones turn soft. I swallow hard before I answer.
"Annie," I start, my voice hoarse, "You have to know that I hate not talking to you. You're my friend, and you make me happy. But I was so worried that if I stayed with you and we stayed friends that Snow would hurt you because you wouldn't have stayed his unstable victor like he wanted you to. You won't disappear into the background necessarily by being friends with me Annie because of what Snow's done to my name in the Capitol, and even if you were never really brought into the spotlight, I don't know. I was still afraid of risking it. I still am. But Mags came and talked to me last night, and told me how upset you seemed. I was hurt by that. I don't like hearing about you hurting. And I hate being away from you… I just—I'm so worried Annie because this whole thing that is my life is not easy. It's… complicated. And it sucks. And I'm not good for you and it'd be so much healthier if you cut off everything from the Capitol altogether and got on with your life and-"
"I don't want that." Her voice comes fast and final, yet also understanding and comforting. She feels for my pain, understands me, but doesn't agree with me and won't allow what I'm saying. She's stubborn in that quiet, sweet, loving way that is irresistible, but can I listen to Mags? Can I believe that what she wants is what's good for her?
"Annie…" my voice is just a whisper now. We've reached the dock but we are still sitting. "I can't lose you." My voice cracks. "I can't. I wouldn't make it."
"Finnick. I can't lose you either. Not like this. Not you willingly giving this up for my own safety. I wouldn't be happy without you there with me and Mags."
I breathe in deeply, and then decide to take a break in order to help her out of the boat and tie it to the dock. Once we are on land again, our feet digging into the wet sand, it's only then that I realize how much the rain has picked up.
"Annie…" I look down at her, her feet barefoot and etched into the stand, body so close to mine, hair wet and tangled from the rain, eyes shining as tears slide down her cheeks. I don't know how to do any of this.
"Annie," I try again, softer this time, my voice smoother. My hands find her cheeks, my thumbs brushing away her tears. "Don't cry. Please. Don't cry."
I'm just about to move my hands away from her face when she brings her tiny fingers up to grasp my elbows, cementing me in place, and I'm frozen, eyes glued to her eyes, our breathing impossibly loud despite the storm raging on around us.
"Finnick," she whispers, and her voice is low, throaty, raspy, "do you care about me?"
Her voice tethers me to reality. I answer with the only thing I can, which is the truth. "Yes." It's a whisper.
"Then don't ever leave me."
I breathe. "Okay."
She stares at my eyes with her own liquid emerald ones, and I feel like she can see into my soul. I stare back, at those pools of green that I've known almost my entire life, and nothing's ever felt so easy yet so exciting and complicated as I hold my breath in anticipation. My monologue from last night starts back up in my head.
It is storming. The air is cold. I can't love her.
It is storming. The air is cold. I think I love her anyway.
Her breath catches when my eyes flicker down to her lips. I notice.
And all at once, we're kissing.
I'm not sure if my body belongs to me anymore, because I'm taking my hands, still pressed to Annie's cheeks, and weaving them back around her neck and into her tangled tresses as I press my body flush against hers. Her hands grip around my middle tightly as I take her lower lip in between mine and suck gently. She mewls lightly and it only spurs me on to gently press my tongue past the seam of her lips. Once I do, it swipes along her bottom lip, just once, before hers, which tastes immaculate: like home and salt, runs along mine. Ours tangle together in an intricate dance that doesn't seem like it could ever belong to anybody else, and a shiver runs through my entire body. Annie is sweet, loving, and exploratory yet passionate, and I am gentle in a way that I couldn't be with anyone else but the girl in the red dress standing in front of me. Everything about her pulls me in, and soon we're both panting.
"Finnick…" she moans in a low, breathy whisper when I move to kiss down her neck just a little before moving back to her cheeks to kiss away any remaining tears. The rain is pounding down, but I don't even notice—she's that warm against me. I open my eyes for just a fraction of a second to marvel at the beautiful skin of her closed lids and kiss those too before shutting mine, the dream too good to be true. My lips naturally migrate back down to hers as they press once, twice, three times in a final, soft lingering gesture.
We're both breathing heavily, with our foreheads pressed against each other's and her wet hair dripping down my shirt. I don't even care. It's Annie, and she's here, and it feels like our two bodies are slowly morphing and dripping and melting into one.
She tilts her head back to kiss the outer shell of my ear then drags it down my cheek until she's at the corner of my mouth. "Finn…" she breathes. "This isn't a dream?"
I chuckle against her mouth. "Not a dream."
And then I can't help myself. I'm kissing her again.