Holocene: Bon Iver.

The next morning, I woke up alone on Finnick's couch. I sat up, looking for him but instead found a note telling me he had been called away on Capitol business and didn't want to wake me. My heart sank, it shouldn't have. Really, this moment was inevitable. Finnick could never truly be mine, now could he? He did come back twice or three times a month and we would relive that one night. Months of torment passed. Whenever he was gone, my fingers would pine for him, reaching and grasping at air. When I saw him, my heart would skip to a strange tune. When we were together, he would beg me to be closer. I would hold his face, search his eyes and beg him to come back to me when he was lost. It was when he came home from the Capitol he would be lost the most. He could never focus, he could never come back to me as my Finnick. He was otherwise some arrogant mutation created by the Capitol or a broken man wallowing in delusions. "Finnick, come back to me," I would plead. He only became himself by the ocean, if I sang to him, or if I held him. "Come back," I whispered. But there were days he never would.

Watching him switch from arrogance to devastation tortured me. It was one day when he came home after enchanting a VIP member from the Capitol that I grew angry. Angry at his manic personalities and his silly promises, he would call for me, promising me a day for him and me and then he would never show. There was always a visitor to be wooed from the Capitol or some urgent errand he had to tend to. I sat by the shore as he had asked me to earlier that morning. The day was long and he never came to the bank. I walked up to the cottage, only to marinate in my anger. Finnick didn't show up until late that afternoon. "Annie!" He shouted happily trying to hug me in greeting as my kitchen door slammed behind him. I frowned turning away from him. "Annie, what's wrong?" He asked, hurt.

I spat at this new direction of his attitude. "What's wrong?" I growled scouring dirty pots and pans mother left in the sink before leaving this morning. "You've kept me hanging on, you've asked me to wait for you, you've asked me again and again to come to you and be around you, and you're the one who never shows," I said tossing a pot back into the dishwater, letting the waves splash over the sink. "Why are you doing this to me?" I shouted, louder than I had intended.

Finnick looked genuinely upset, and it was a moment I still, to this day am not proud of. He watched me with the one look of distaste that I hated. The look I had received when I insulted his intentions before he was tossed in the Games arena. "I'm not leaving you intentionally Annie…" He said quietly.

But in anger, I went on, pouting like a child. "No, you're not Finnick. You just leave whenever you consider something more important. Like when you're called off to the Capitol and you can't be bothered to tell me, or when some VIP from the Capitol is hauled in, you're the one who gives them the grand tour." And although my anger was justified I knew I had crossed the line. I knew Finnick was better than I had portrayed him, I knew this adjustment for him was still difficult even after five years of practice, but I was furious. Why couldn't I ever have him to myself? Why couldn't he ever be just mine? Why did I have to share him? Did he even love me? I was a fool to wait around for the boy who could never love me…did he even want me? Or was I just something to keep him occupied when the beautiful women of the Capitol weren't around?

"Because they ask me to Annie!" He shouted, my fury resounding.

In a moment without control, I wrapped my hands around his jaw, "Well, I'm asking you to stay with me," I begged, my hands trembling and voice breaking.

He shook me away and whether it was anger or heartbreak, my body began to shake uncontrollably. "I can't," He told me harshly.

"And why not?" My voice was strained and tears began to prick at my eyes.

Finnick looked as desperate as I must have sounded, "Because I have to go with these people."

"Why Finnick? Why do you have to go?" I breathed, tears streaming down my cheeks.

He looked exasperated. "I just do," He breathed pushing his hair back. He sat down at the kitchen table and I crossed the room to the doorway, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Because of your admirers…" I sighed, dejected.

Finnick watched me in disbelief. "What?" He shook his head, "…What? No. No…that's not it at all."

I lifted an eyebrow, "No?" A harsh grimace pulled at my lips and I let my head rest again the doorframe, tears still falling silently.

Finnick shot up from his chair, knocking it to the floor. He was furious with me for something I couldn't truly understand then. Maybe it was a guilt, or truth, or whatever you want to call it...that's what I thought at least. "You think you're so smart don't you Cresta? Think you can read everyone, that you know everything about everyone?" He snapped and I felt my body cave in. My cheeks flushed as Finnick watched me.

I shook my head, "No. But I do know you and this isn't you," I breathed shakily.

Finnick walked to me, holding my hand. "This is all of him that I have left," His eyes were empty but he offered me a small apologetic smile.

I watched him, still pleading, hand wrapping around the back of his neck. "Come back to me Finnick," I whispered.

He shook his head, pressing his forehead to mine, "I have nothing to give you Annie."

"I'm not asking for anything Finn. Just you," I sighed, letting him go. "What's going on with you?"

Finnick walked around the room, shaking his head. "I can't tell you," He told me again and again.

I reached after him, taking his hands and trying to be genuine with my promises, "I can handle it." But I knew I couldn't.

"It would hurt you," He promised me, knowing me better than what I was willing to admit.

I dropped his hands and walked away from him again, this time to the sink, leaning on the edge. "This hurts me," I told him harshly.

Finnick ran his hand through his bronze locks, "You're stubborn," He said frowning and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Just tell me," I pleaded quietly. But I thought I knew the answer. It seemed obvious…it was in the way he looked at me, "It's me, isn't it?"

He looked shocked again, "What? Annie…" he sighed, frustrated with me.

My heart sank and I felt like I would crash to the floor just admitting my insecurities aloud. "I'm not what you want Finn. It's ok, I don't blame you. I'm not them. I'm not extravagant, or beautiful, or…those women." I had never been this girl. I had never been so weak to where I couldn't look Finnick Odair in the eyes, but I wouldn't dare glance over at him.

"Annie…No, that's ridiculous," He said, this time more forceful.

I turned to him finally, "Well is it? Really?"I asked gently.

There was a small stretch of silence. "I…I-I don't know," He told me, running his hand through his hair again and then picking up the fallen chair. He sat back down again and we kept our distance.

I couldn't stop my lips in time before they let the words pass, "Do you even want me?" I took a deep breath waiting for only a few seconds, my body aching like I was suffering from a bad cold. "You know what…don't-don't answer that," I said shuddering at my worst fear.

He shook his head. "Annie, you're being silly." He was truly irritated with me, angry at me, I could see it in his deadening eyes.

I laughed hollowly, a sorrowful smile crossing my lips as tears streamed down my face. "I'm not though. You don't know what it's like to be left here waiting…" I cried, turning back to the sink.

"I do Annie, you just don't get it," Finnick told me as if things would be made right and left at me not understanding.

"Well, help me get it," I asked in a hushed prayer.

And I knew, without looking, Finnick had his head in his hands, absolutely desperate for an answer other than the one he had to offer. "I can't." It was simple my next move.

I opened the kitchen door and left it ajar. I stood in the opening, "Then I can't wait for you anymore Finn." And he left. It was over, he and I. I took the ring I had grown accustom to wearing and placed it back in the box, keeping it on my nightstand and sometimes looking at it before I went to sleep at night. He was gone.