CHAPTER 15

Friendship

The reflection in the mirror showed the same person she was expecting to find; a young, confused child with nothing except an earring for living proof of her remaining memories and a towel for clothes. She was alone, per her own petition. There were many things she had to process and very little time to discuss them with another person.

The highlights of her Hunger Games had just ended, allowing her to go back to the fourth floor in the Training Centre. It was true Finnick had explained everything, but she still couldn't believe what she had seen. Despite the pain, the loss, and the fear, she'd found a friend, or perhaps even more, in the Arena. Someone she had ended up trusting blindly, and she had lost him. She had lost Jackson to the Arena, to the Mutts, even to her own memory.

How could the death of someone she couldn't even remember make her feel so pathetic? Like she had been the one to lose despite surviving the Games. And then there was the kiss, which she had shown not to mind that much.

A kiss in the Arena . . . Were we in love? Were we mad? Olive thought, running her fingers through her hair. The hot air, mixed with the warm water running down her body, made her feel uncomfortable. She needed to go somewhere open. Somewhere she could breathe with ease.

The towel that she had wrapped around her body fell to the floor, permitting her eyes to see through the foggy mirror her still male body. At least something was just as she remembered. A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned on the sink, her hands clenching onto the marble. Too many emotions to make out in a brief span of time.

Using her little knowledge about how her room worked, Olive decided to wear the simplest clothes she could find in her wardrobe and made her way out of the room towards the flight of stairs. She expected to be received by such a strong wind that it would knock her to the floor, but no such thing happened.

Barely visible transparent walls protected her from the outside. Surely, one of the many ways the Capitol had to keep the Tributes from killing themselves. With a hand on the bannister, and a deep breath every few steps, Olive kept going up until she reached the rooftop.

As she pushed the door open, a chilly breeze engulfed her, making her regret not having brought a jacket. Either way, she wouldn't be there for too long, so she still stepped outside, meeting an unexpected person's eyes.

"Good to know that some things never change," Finnick said, walking in her direction with a spare jacket in hand. "Don't even try to deny. I already have one and I'm fine. You're one step away from shivering."

Olive looked at him doubtfully but still accepted the jacket gratefully, leaving it over her shoulders. "What are you doing up here?"

"Couldn't sleep. You?" He asked, turning to watch the Capitol's lights.

"Something like that, too." Without thinking, Olive followed Finnick to the side, where they had a better view of the many lights and buildings surrounding them. A thought made her chuckle, causing her mentor's curiosity to spike. "I was just thinking this place is nothing like home. My family must be surrounded by darkness right now. I wonder if they've even slept a wink since I left."

"And take their eyes off of you? No way. It's too dangerous. Who knows what you might do if you're left alone for too long?" Even though it was supposed to be a joke, Olive noticed something about how Finnick spoke. A sort of seriousness, yet worry, filled his eyes and shook his voice. It was so soft that it was easy to miss it.

"I'm not a child, Finnick. I think my time in the Arena proved I can take perfect care of myself."

His eyes became glued to hers, letting a couple seconds of silence pass by. "Sure. And I'm a redhead."

"You do have red hair," Olive answered with the best serious tone she could muster. "Oh, are colour-blind? That explains many things."

Finnick chuckled, but decided to ignore her suggestion. "Explains things like what?"

"Your lack of a sense of fashion." Olive shrugged, but couldn't keep her smile from showing any longer. "You might need some classes from Piscia."

"Alright, I'm not taking that advice from you." He raised his hand, motioning to her outfit of choice. "Sweetheart, you're the one who needs the fashion tips, not me."

Olive chuckled, grabbing the bottom of her shirt to look at it with a dubious look. "At least it's better than the other Capitol clothes I had in my wardrobe. What about you? You fancy your clothes right now?"

Finnick's eyes descended to his own clothes, which, apart from the jacket, were as flashy as anyone could expect from the Capitol's fashion. "Not really. I guess we're both equally horrible in terms of fashion, right?"

"Pretty much, yeah." She shrugged, watching some lights flicker in the distance. "So, what else got you up here apart from the lack of sleep?"

"Many things, probably. I just needed to breathe, and my room felt too stuffy for that," he answered, running a hand through his hair. "What about you? What's going on in that head of yours?"

Her hands went to the jacket Finnick had lent her, gripping it closer to her body. The wind wasn't bothering her, not since she stepped next to her mentor, who blocked the flow from reaching her directly. The corner of her mouth moved upwards as she looked up, meeting his eyes. "Many things, probably. I, too, needed to breathe, and I couldn't in that room." Seconds passed, in which they just kept staring into each other's eyes. "I want to go home."

His eyes softened as her statement seemed to process in his mind. Before she knew it, he had landed a shaky hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Me too." He said, moving his hand to her back, giving Olive the right to either stay put or hug him.

As much as her rationality told her to stay put, a stronger, way louder voice deprived her of all her senses. She didn't have to be Navin Olive Cresta, the seventeen-year-old with a family to look after. She was no longer a tribute, her life wasn't in danger. Nevertheless, that didn't mean she had to be a victor and keep up appearances.

For the first time since she got told, she realised the beauty of her friendship with Finnick. She didn't have to force herself to put up appearances, nor did he. They could be nobody as long as they were together.

Olive took a step closer, wrapping her arms around her friend and clinging to his shirt. Every feeling she had bottled up got out of its cage. Some were in the form of tears, sobs, or even soft hits on Finnick's back. Her mentor and friend rubbed her back with his hand. A way of comfort that also brought warmness in that cold weather.

"We'll be home soon. Tomorrow," Finnick whispered, though it didn't quite reach Olive's ears. "Just one last thing and we'll go back. Your family will be thrilled, and you'll hug, and kiss, and simply be together twenty-four seven after that."

Her friend's speech somehow accomplished to unify two parallel emotions together in her mind; happiness and sadness. The reminder that she'd see her family soon, and have them in her arms, indeed made her endlessly happy. However, the fact that she still had to go through the interview before even stepping on the train home only made her feel worse.

"What about you?" Olive asked through barely controlled sniffs, trying to evade anything family-related. "You better not ignore me once we're in Four just because you're done with your job, alright? We're friends now. Deal with it."

"Noted." Finnick chuckled and nodded. "But for now, we should go back to our rooms. I doubt you want to put up with your prep team while being sleepy."

"Yeah, good idea," she muttered, using her shirt's sleeve to wipe off the tears.

The icy wind seemed harmless as they closed the glass door behind them, enclosing themselves in the protectiveness of the flight of stairs that led to their floor. Besides her desire to be able to put up with her prep team the following day, Olive had no wanting to reach her room so soon.

Deep down, she knew she had said worse goodbyes than those, but she still couldn't bring herself to say anything. No other memory had appeared again since that day in the hospital. Nothing at all. Somehow, she felt so paranoid and hopeless about the entire situation that she'd ended up fearing sleep. What if she woke up the next morning without memories? Again. For the third time.

How could she fool herself? There was no actual evidence that it couldn't happen again. She hadn't forgotten just once, as she had initially thought, but twice. In that brief moment she had remembered, she already had no memories. The sole thought of forgetting everything that had happened again, maybe even her entire life and family, made her shiver.

"On second thought, sleep might not come too easily." Olive turned around, resting her back on the room's door, to face her friend. "Mind hanging out for a while? I mean, only if you're fine with it. You also have to wake up early tomorrow, so I understand if—"

"Sure," Finnick answered simply.

"Sorry, what?" Olive blinked a few times, breathing in and out to calm down from her previous ranting.

"Sure, let's talk for a while. Sleep doesn't come easily for me, either." His hand raised slightly as if he wanted to do something, but bounced back to his side. "Are we going to stand here all night, or can we go in?"

Olive's eyes were stuck on Finnick's, but she still managed to pull herself together and step aside, opening the door for him. The room was dark, just as she had left it. Not even turning up the light switch could make it seem more welcoming. It still carried the same constant threatening aura that she couldn't quite shake off.

"Man, this place is like my entire house, but colder and tidier," she muttered, stepping inside to get a jacket from her wardrobe.

"Oh, really?" Finnick said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes, really." Olive chuckled as she took off the jacket Finnick had given her and put on her own. "I'm not used to the cold. Although, I'm not a big fan of the heat, either."

"I like the cold. It gives you an excuse to be closer to the ones you care about," he muttered, taking the jacket he had lent her and leaving it over the nightstand.

"I would've never guessed you were the clingy type," she commented, taking a seat on the bed.

"Well, get used to it, 'cause we're friends now. As an incredible friend of mine once said, deal with it." He sat beside her, remarking the word 'incredible,' with a chuckle.

Olive nodded, pressing her lips together to not laugh. "As an astounding friend of mine once said, noted."

Their eyes met, giving them a sole second of silence before they burst out laughing. The silliness of the entire situation brought back memories to Olive's mind, none of which she had forgotten, just blissful moments with her family in the woods. Those good old days, when none of them were even close to getting their names in the reaping ball.

Will I ever forget them? Things that right now are so vivid, will I forget them? Her hands clenched the bed covers. She didn't want that. She didn't want to forget. Her mother, her home, her family, she couldn't lose them. Although, it was probably all the contrary. She wouldn't lose them, they would lose her.

With all her memories gone, and the constant confusion about every detail, Olive doubted she'd ever be herself. That person would not be Navin Olive Cresta, the second-oldest child of four siblings, nor the recklessly brave seventeen-year-old that had given up everything to save her little brother.

The same things she wanted to run away from earlier, despite everything, made her who she was. Without them, she would only be a stranger with the same appearance and voice. Nothing less, nothing more.

"Everything will be fine," Finnick assured, breaking the peaceful silence and grabbing a hold of her hand. "Even if it doesn't look like that now."

Olive took in a deep breath and gulped. "I know." She let out a long, exhausted sigh and whisper one last time. "I know."

The next day, as her prep team pushed her around, making sure every little detail was perfect and in its place, Olive's thoughts were getting further away from reality. She counted the hours, minutes, and seconds until she got home. The interview only seemed a mild inconvenience, contrary to the previous day, when she was worried about everything and anything.

"I'll see you again in six months. Be sure not to bite your nails, alright?" Cario said, watching as Sienna, the only woman from her prep team, applied more blush to her cheeks.

"OK," Olive muttered, glancing up from her dress to analyse her stylist. The fact that she'd once considered him a friend was still foreign to her. What was her deal, making friends with her mentors and stylist when she was so close to death? "Thanks for the dress. It's beautiful."

"Not my best work, really. I'd have liked it if I have been permitted to do more than this." He motioned at the dress, which was, in her humble opinion, the most Capitol fashion-like thing she had ever worn.

"Well, it's still breathtakingly beautiful."

Cairo chuckled as he shook his head, resting his hands on his hips. "Thank you, Olive. You're very kind."

"I wouldn't say I'm kind, more like desperately trying to stay positive." She shrugged.

"That's just like you," her stylist muttered, a soft smile forming on his lips as his eyes raised to look at her in the eye. "Come on, it's not that bad. Just an hour or two, and you'll be going back to District Four, and I'll get to see you in a few months, with your nails intact, I hope."

"You might want to rethink the last bit." Olive chuckled, her eyes travelling to her nails, which were perfectly painted despite how short they were. "Anyway, it's probably time I get to Caesar and start this whole thing. Wouldn't want to be late."

"By all means," Cairo said, offering her a hand to guide her to the stage, where all the camera crew and Caesar were expecting her. Her mentors were on one side. They chatted with the different Capitol people, Piscia, Four's escort, between them.

"Navin, my dear, how are you feeling?" Caesar greeted the moment he landed his eyes on the new victor.

"A bit confused, but extremely happy." Olive smiled kindly, one of the many things she'd been forced to learn before the Games' highlights.

"It's alright. Since the interview can't follow its usual pace due to your lack of memories, I've been forced to improvise. Don't worry, it won't be too tedious for you," Caesar assured, and got back to his seat, motioning her to do the same.

After one look at her mentors, Olive sat down across from Caesar. Her palms were sweaty, and, though she tried to ignore it, she couldn't help but feel the strange heavy atmosphere in the room. All eyes were on Caesar as he began the interview, welcoming the viewers.

Despite Caesar's jokes and light way of speaking, there was no sugar-coating he could do about the situation. Something quite impressive coming from the man that gave the tributes their last chance to get noticed before going to the arena. His questions about the situations and highlights couldn't be more useless, as Olive had no proper way to answer truthfully.

"Now, what I've been wondering for a while. Navin, could you tell us your thoughts about this?" Caesar asked, motioning to the television, which showed the moment Jackson, her ally, and, apparently, friend, kissed her.

As simple as the answer was, Olive felt great difficulty answering the question. She had been told the part she had to play, the lovesick teenager that had lost a lover whom she couldn't even remember. The pain, the loss. It had everything to invest every Capitol person on her without giving them the right to look anywhere else.

"If I'm honest, Caesar, I don't know," she uttered, fighting her own rationality to talk louder. "Jackson, he . . . I can't remember him." Her eyes began watering out of nowhere, sniffs taking over her already shaky breathing. "I can't, and I wish I could. I've never . . . It's all so confusing."

"Navin, darling," Caesar muttered, a hint of remorse echoing through his words. He bent forward and gave her a handkerchief, which she pretended to take gratefully. "It's alright. I understand, we all do. You must feel so disorientated."

"Yes, but it's not just that," she said, bringing her hands to her heart. "I've never felt like this. It's like a part of me is missing. As if I'd lost a part of me. It's equally confusing and heartbreaking. To not be able to remember him just breaks me. I miss him, but I don't even know what I'm missing."

Olive had to admit, she wasn't exactly lying, just exaggerating reality. Most of what she was saying was real. She wanted to know the people she had forgotten, those who had stayed day after day just to look after her. The looks they subconsciously gave her whenever she acted in a peculiar way, like they were happy to see a part of her back, made her jealous of her own self. The one who had the privilege of knowing everyone from scratch despite the terrible conditions she was in.

"I wish I could get all my memories back right now. I just want to remember," she muttered, clenching her hands together over the bottom of her dress.

"I'm sure you will remember him at some point, Sooner or later," Caesar assured, and then cut the interview.

I'm free to go. Home. I'll finally go home. Olive thought while getting up, saying her goodbyes to Caesar, who pulled another handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe a couple of tears.

"After you, Miss Cresta," Finnick commented with a light tone as they reached the train's doors.

Before she could do anything, Piscia hurried past them, uttering something about needing a drink, which Librae seconded as she followed the escort. Olive chuckled, stepping on the train as she turned her head to glance at the remaining mentors that still lingered by her side. "Well, I guess everyone's eager to go to Four."

"You bet," Ron said. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a grown woman to babysit."

"Sure thing." Olive took a step to the side, letting Ron go after Librae.

Mags mumbled how she was tired and would go straight to her room until they reached Four, which wouldn't take too long just a few hours. Both teenagers nodded and waved at her as she left the living room.

"I'm going home. I'd say it feels like it's a dream, but, to be fair, I haven't really gone through anything. Well, I can't remember it. It's like someone else did all that you guys told me, even if we have the same face and voice." Olive sat down on one of the couches, taking advantage of Piscia's absence to cross her legs and lay back.

"I know it must be difficult to take it all in, Olive, and I don't exactly have much better news for what's going to come from now on." Finnick sighed, taking a seat beside her.

Olive locked eyes with Finnick, who didn't permit himself to falter. "Do you miss her? Who I was before I lost my memories of you. Do you miss her?"