Sorry I took so long, a lots been going on. So, we exited?! :) Im gonna now be focusing on more Lav&Or fluff;)

oh, and I would like to thank some people, ME442, Belixe, Aliyaahhh, and two Guests for reviewing my story and making me feel all tingly and fangirly:) And as for the idea Guest #1 had, yeah, that's a very good idea, and I'm going to stick to my plot, but I will definitely use some of those suggestions! Thank you so much!

I don't own THG, but Suzanne Collins probably wishes she owned this story;)

Love you strangers!

~Jenna

ELEVEN

The next few days are painfully slow. Plans are made to have Annie cremated and buried by her favourite willow tree on the beach, where she and Finnick first met. Oriole isn't sure if he's going to live in Four or in Two, with his other relatives. He doesn't know if he needs to stay or not.

A part of me always wants him to stay here, in this house. This tall, old, faded blue, two story wooden house on the beach. The place where my childhood was built up, stacked with building blocks, most of which belong to Oriole and this house...this beach. This world.
I figure, if he's still here, and we still visit, it's like some things can stay the same. Things don't have to change.

But I know it's a foolish thought. I still wish it were true, though.

Our trips to Four, fun and playful and happy, are over. They died along with Annie.

Caleb stays in the living room, sleeping on a couch. He doesn't acknowledge my presence in the way he did, that night at the lake. He hasn't spoken a word about it since Oriole came. I don't know how to take that. I still don't know how I take..well, everything. What happened between us.

But I have a vague feeling that Caleb and I stand at an unspoken agreement to leave it be. Stay friends, love each other as we used to, as siblings or just best friends. All that drama -confusion- has to wait. I am in no position to be making this about myself.

This is about Oriole. And how he doesn't have a family anymore.

But, I guess that isn't fully true. His mother and father were his family, yes, by blood. But we -my mother, father, Caspian and me- were his family. We love him too. We love him as if he were our own. I know that for a fact. We would do anything for him, sacrifice anything for him.

At that, an idea pops into my mind, unexpected. And as soon as it does, I have a hard time believing that none of us thought of it.

I run up the stairs to my mothers guest room. She's sitting on the windowsill, looking at a book. She glances my way.

"What if..." I stammer, unsure whether I should bring this up or not. But I have nothing to lose, I guess. "Mom, what if Oriole, I mean instead of living far away...he could, I mean-"

"You want to know if Oriole can live with us in Twelve." She doesn't skip a beat.

"You already thought of it?" I'm actually quite surprised. My mother isn't exactly one to think ahead. She's more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of person. My dad is the other type.

"No," she says, and next, as if reading my thoughts, "your father did."

"So...?"

She sighs. "So he thought that maybe Or could movie into one of the Victors Houses, and work part-time at his bakery."

I take in a breath. It seemed like a good idea when it was only a thought. But now that it's a possibility...I feel quite nervous.

"Okay, so he could live with us." I smile, halfheartedly. "That's good, right?"

My mother turns and gets up to fix some random objects on her nightstand.

The pause seems to last longer than necessary.

"Lavianna," she sighs. "You need to understand what Oriole is going through. His mother just died, she was the only thing he had-"

"-he has us." I interfere.

"-he had that was real." She finishes. "Lav, we aren't his real family. We've never lived with Or like that. Annie-" her voice catches at her name.

She paces around the cramped room like a caged animal. Appropriate enough, I think.

"His mother was his full-time job. He won't know how to fill his time and he won't be the same. You have to understand that. Oriole will never be the same."

I know. It was like how my mother was never the same after my aunt died. How my grandmother never fully recovered, either. How my father was always affected by the high jacking. How Gale and mother's friendship can't be the same.

Things change in life, urging all us in it to move forward with it, or it leaves us behind, stuck in an immobile, frozen state.

I knew Oriole would never be the same. This was a traumatizing experience.

But what helps me think about that, is that I know that he wasn't alone. He didnt have to face his mothers last breaths alone. He didnt have to say goodbye alone. He didnt have to cope alone. We were here, every step of the way, like we always were.

"We are his family now."

It comes out more serious than I intended. My voice drops an octave, but she needs to know I'm serious about this. She needs to know I...she already knows though.

Mothers face softens. She nods-barely- and it's settled.

Oriole will move in with us.

•••

I can't remember when he starts eating and talking. It just starts gradually I guess. One day hes silent and starving, the next he mumbles a hello as he stuffs himself at the breakfast table.

He's slowly coming back to life. He's still not the same, but I don't think I could blame him for that.

It's been three weeks since Annie left us.

Twenty-one days without her here.

He's started speaking more. I usually am the one to sit there with him, in his seat etched into the sands welcoming shoreline. Mostly, we just sit and stare out into the ocean. Sometimes, he tells me stories about him and Annie, ones that I am familiar with, some that I've never heard. It's nice, being part of they're life for a few moments, feeling the joy when he recounts humorous adventures, pain in the sad ones, and love...in all of them.

One night, right after the sunset, we were both sitting in his spot. The sand was warm, and the atmosphere had a pinkish and orange glow to it, the ones that fall over the air after a sunset. The sunny haze was inching into the waves, past the horizon. A light breeze was blowing my long hair around lightly.

Or had been quiet at dinner, more so than usual. He seemed a bit hostile. But no one had bothered him about it. He sat with his legs out in front of him, leaning forward and prodding a seashell on his lap. I sat crossed legged and slightly turned towards him. He was daydreaming. Probably imagining a better world, one where his mother was still here and things weren't complicated. I knew I was.

We were inches apart. I watched him, his face, and then the stars, slowly appearing in the dark blue sky.

Suddenly, he looked up. His eyes shot to mine, and I was startled by how close his face was and his sudden movement. He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to determine whether I was real or not. I nodded slightly just in case.

His eyes softened as he gazed at me, and he almost smiled. Which was a lot of progress if you asked me.

I looked down at his hands. His long, golden fingers. They were laced in the sand, almost blending in with how tan they were.

It seemed like we were there for hours. Just staring.

Hesitantly, I reached over with my right hand and took his left. He didn't take his eyes off my face. I didn't take my eyes off his hands. I pulled his hand over to my lap, and ran my fingers across his warm palm. My hair was falling in front of my eyes, I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his green-blue eyes staring at me.

Every time my fingers touched his skin, it was like a tingling electricity shot up them and through my arms. Cliché, I know, but I couldn't stop. I was fascinated by the sensation. I finally laced my smaller fingers through his, squeezing. He squeezed back.

I heard him take a deep breath, and I forced myself to look up. He had tilted his head forward, and we were kind of huddling into our own world. Heads bent together, staring into each others eyes.

I could never get over his eyes. So beautiful, it was inhuman.

I couldn't keep my thoughts together.

I heard different words course through my mind.

I couldn't keep track of them. I just remember thinking 'confused' and 'Oriole' and 'warm' a lot.

We kept gazing. It was so slow; time. Every second. I was aware of every breath he took. Every blink, his dark eyelashes. I didn't even care what I looked like. Everything was warm. My body, his hand, our eyes, the air between us, the sand, the stars.

I felt like I was falling. Literally. So many people say that, but I never understood until now. My gut felt like it was dropping, my chest was heavy, my fingers stretching as he leaned towards me. He bent down, because of how tall he was. I took a breath.

He was closer, our hands tightened.

Suddenly, as if a strange déjà-vue, I saw the Caleb, looking exactly like Oriole was, leaning towards me.

I took a sharp breath and snapped my head up. I shook us out of the trance we were locked in. He looked at me, then our hands, and then the very, very short distance between us.

Had I started him to go back scurrying into his secluded hideout? Did I scare him away? I was so worried I had ruined it...

He leaned back a bit, but not before taking hold of my hand in both of his, one already laced with mine, and brought them up to his lips. He closed his eyes and breathed in as he pressed his lips against my thumb. I closed my eyes shortly.

This night was so much like the other one, back in twelve...

But I didn't want to think about it. I didn't know what to think about it. All I knew that this, with Oriole, here, felt right. A feeling of utter understanding. I didn't feel it with Caleb.

I feel it with Oriole.

He puts my hand back on my lap and smiles at me. I smile back.

We don't say another word the whole night.

Somethings going on! Keep in mind, those of you Caleb-die-hards, this fanfic is about Lav and Or, but you will get a lot of drama-rama;) and unexpected heart-wrenching events! Stay tuned!

...man, I'm good.