The room fell into silent chaos. Nobody knew what to say. Olive volunteering for Annie was something that they all expected, but the oldest twin's eyes didn't gleam with determination to survive and come back to the person she was volunteering for. In fact, they didn't shine at all. Olive's eyes were lost, staring at her intertwined hand with Finnick as if it was her only connection left with reality.
"OK," said Librae. "Then, I'll volunteer for Muscida."
"And I for Librae," added Muscida, giving Ron a comforting smile.
"Olive," mumbled Mags, her hand landing on Finnick's shoulder, snapping the teen out of his nightmarish daze.
Annie grasped Angel's hand firmly and raised her head to look into her fellow victors' eyes. "I'll volunteer for Mags."
"Annie—" Olive tried to dissuade her sister, but it was to no use.
"No, stop protecting me." Annie rose from her chair, driving the attention to herself. "I'm your twin, not your younger sister. I know I'm not… that I'm Crazy Twin Two, but I can do this. You want to protect me, alright, but then you have to let me protect whoever I want, too. Doesn't matter if that person's you or anyone else."
"Finnick?" Ron asked, needing only one glance at Rhett and Clem to give Finnick an idea of what his plan was.
Theo slammed his hand on the table, cutting short all chatter about volunteering. He gulped loudly, blinking away the tears that were threatening to escape his eyes. "Stop talking about volunteering and dying for one another and instead make plans for the Arena."
Gianna and Joe copied him, diverting the attention from Theo to them. In a minute, they had come up with ten different training methods and things that they had to glance over again: edible plants, physical strength, endurance, fighting, and the use of weapons.
"Mags, Rhett, and Annie are the expert in plants," Angel pointed out. "They could refresh everyone's minds."
"Finnick, Clem, and Ron should be in charge of revising the fighting," said Theo, his grip on the table knife increasing as the television kept showing the Capitol's astounded reaction to the news. "Olive's great at climbing, and there might be a situation that they'll need it, so whoever doesn't know how to, learn."
Gianna ran her fingers through her hair, ignoring her reddish cheeks and the strong urge to cry as she stated, "Muscida and Librae are great strategists, we might need to have pre-thought plans to prepare how to act in front of all kinds of Arenas and mutts attacks."
"However," said Joe, raising the remote to turn off the television, "that will all be planned out tomorrow. For now, everyone goes back to their houses and off to sleep. First thing tomorrow, with the very first ray of sun, we eat breakfast here and make a schedule, alright?"
It took a second for the words to be processed in everybody's minds. Soon they all came to realise that what Joe suggested was the best thing they could do for now. Making plans when the entirety of their minds had been consumed by a mix of rage and fear could not create a good result.
"Alright," they all said.
After exchanging quick goodbyes, the victors left. Olive had to be assured over and over again that she could move out without worrying. She didn't know why, only Annie seemed reluctant about it. Even after Angel asked to live together with her in Annie's own victor house, the twins kept feeling that lurking uneasy feeling. However, Olive could only guess that, like Johanna, Piscia, or the new Head Gamemaker, there was something everyone knew that they didn't. Something was happening, and they weren't being told.
"I promise if we need you, we'll come to get you," said Gianna for the hundredth time. "You're literally across the street. It's not that difficult."
"Alright." Olive finally gave in. She hugged her family and walked out of the house with Finnick, alongside Annie and Angel, who had decided to move in together as well. "I swear. Anything: a nightmare, bad thought, fear. You come and get me."
"We promise," the three chorused, waving goodbye before closing the front door.
Finnick didn't have time to open his house's front door before Angel took Olive aside, letting Annie and Finnick have a conversation on their own while they were gone. Olive watched expectantly for Angel to tell her what she wanted. More than curiosity, worry filled her mind with every possibility. Would she beg her to volunteer for Annie? Or perhaps Mags, so Annie wouldn't have to volunteer?
"Olive," Angel began, her thumb tracing a pattern on her own hand, "when I said I wouldn't let Annie go, I never meant that I wanted you to—"
"I know, Angel, I know," said Olive, a soft smile overtaking her prior confused expression. "Just." She glanced back at Finnick and Annie, taking in their features for a second before pulling her attention back to Angel. "Take care of them for me, alright?"
Angel shook her head and forced herself to show Olive a tender smile. "You won't go. And even if you do, you won't get killed."
"Bold of you to assume I won't give my life for my partner's." Olive placed her hands on her hips, trying to dramatise her words despite meaning them.
"Bold of you to assume they'd let you." Angel copied her action, but her face was straight, with no sign of wanting to lighten the mood at all.
A huff was all Olive could muster as she let her hands fall from her hips to her sides. "There won't be a choice."
"There's always a choice," said Angel.
"I clearly won't win this fight, so I'll just go to Finnick's—well, I guess it's my house now too. Anyway, I'll go to sleep before all these plans and information is dumped on us tomorrow," Olive said, rubbing her forehead and walks along with Angel towards the front door, where Finnick and Annie were still chatting. "Missed us?"
"Every second," Finnick joked, turning to wrap an arm around Olive's shoulders.
"Goodnight, lovebirds," said Angel, rolling her eyes dramatically while taking Annie's hand.
"We'll see you tomorrow, newlyweds." Olive waved her sister and Angel off, watching them get inside the house to their right before following Finnick inside her new house.
"I'd give you a tour, but …" he trailed off on purpose.
"Yeah, I'm familiar with it." She smiled at him, her eyes analysing her surroundings in a special daze. "It doesn't feel real."
"The house? I can assure you it's real. You have no idea how many times I've walked straight into a wall early in the morning." Finnick took her hand, guiding her to the sofa, where they sat with the television on as background sound.
"That explains many things." Olive chuckled while resting her head on Finnick's shoulder. "But … I don't know. This happiness, the idea of living together … feels like it isn't real. Now I guess it's just like a limited-time deal."
"Liv, you don't have to go back to the Games," said Finnick in a low tone, pushing her chin up with two fingers to lock eyes with her. "You don't have to volunteer."
"I can't let any of them die, Finn," Olive said, not evading his stare as she added, "I know you won't either."
The voices coming from the television were the only addition to the silence that had taken over the room. They kept their eyes locked, not wavering, as if that small action would make their points crumble. Neither wanted to lose, for they knew that losing could mean the other's eventual death.
"You're not volunteering just to save them," Finnick said in a pained voice. "You'll volunteer to save me. How… Why? You can't. I can't—won't. I won't let you die."
Olive kept silent, staring deep into his eyes. "The odds have never been in my favour, anyway. Right now, I don't even want them to be. May the odds be ever in your favour."
Lightning didn't strike at any point, though it was a befitting night for a storm to rage on. The sky was clear, letting Olive see some faint stars shine near the moon. They were petite and dim, but somehow her sight could not detach itself from them. It was odd. Shouldn't the moon, the gigantic and bright sphere in the sky, be more fascinating than any small and unimportant star? Was it because there were more stars than there could ever be moons?
Her innocent ramble stopped as her attention was called back to Earth. Down on the street that divided the Victor Village's houses, there was Ron, waving at her. She waved back, unsure, but soon realised that Ron was, in fact, gesturing. He wanted her to come down and meet him.
It wasn't a tough decision. Behind her, Finnick was sleeping, not so peacefully anymore. He had begun to toss and turn, and she knew it would be a matter of minutes before the mumbles appeared. Whatever Ron needed would better be quick, so she could ask him the hardest petition she had ever done and be back in time to stop Finnick from yelling in his sleep.
Only minding the cold, Olive put on her coat and tiptoed her way down the stairs to the front door, where Ron was already waiting on the other side of the door. Unlike many other times, he didn't walk inside carefree when she opened the door. He simply stood there, giving her a brief, pained smile.
"Is everything alright, Ron?" she asked.
"Is it ever?" He said, running a hand through his now short hair, which somehow still managed to keep its curls. "I'm so sorry, Olive … I—"
"Don't worry," she cut him off, not needing to hear more to know what he was trying to say. "I'll volunteer for Librae, too."
"You mean that you'll volunteer for everyone," he corrected her, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I … Thank you, but I'm worried about you, too." His hand fell to his side, letting him lock eyes with her. "You're like a daughter to me. Letting you go to the Arena again … it's killing me."
"You're like a second father to me, too … Well, I guess we better hope my name's not called, huh?" Olive chuckled bitterly. "It won't be. Snow doesn't know what to do with me. I bet he's enjoying this. And he'll enjoy it more when I volunteer."
"Let's not give ideas, alright?" Ron suggested, the corner of his lips curving upwards faintly. "I didn't come here just to ask you to volunteer, and I'm sure you didn't come down dressed in your pyjamas when it's freezing just to hear me say what you already know."
"I've got a bed to go back to, dad, speed it up and talk," Olive said in a light tone, showing him a genuine smile.
"Well, daughter, Finnick shouldn't go back to the Arena," he said. "I'm already asking you to go. I can't let him go with you. He'll forget everything, and only protect you, and you might lose it."
"Are you saying that you'll volunteer and leave me behind in the Arena?" She raised her eyebrows mockingly, accomplishing to make Ron snigger.
"No, I'm not saying that." He shook his head. "I'm saying I'd do a better job at remembering what these Games are about than him."
"'What these Games are about'," Olive repeated, interested. "Are you implying that they'll be different?"
"Killing friends instead of random kids? Yeah, I'm sure it'll be different," he said. "Well, I won't bother you anymore. I just wanted to let you know. Finnick won't go back if I can volunteer for him, and I'll make sure you get back to him and your family."
"Thank you, Ron." She waved him off, watching as he entered Librae's house instead of his own, and mumbling to herself. "I can't let you die either, though."
She closed the door and walked upstairs, walking into the spacious bedroom. Contrary to her initial thoughts, Finnick hadn't reached the point of mumbling yet, though the time he took to turn around got increasingly shorter. Trying not to wake him up, she took off her coat, tossed it to an empty chair near the door, and slid under the covers. As if Finnick had an unconscious radar, he stopped tossing and wrapped his arms around her to bring her close to him. Olive didn't mind, much less would she wake Finnick up after getting him to relax. He deserved a good night of sleep, and she wanted to enjoy the moment.
After all, it could be the first in the spiral of meaningful moments to remember before her death. If she could grave it in stone, she would. As long as she could keep it with her until her last dying breath, Olive would be happy.
She just wanted to remember, look in the eyes of death, and let all her memories flash before her eyes. It was a macabre thought to have months before the Games, but no other could occupy her mind. Dying without memories was the cruellest thing she could think of. Not remembering her family or her friends would leave her empty; baffled at the world and her own willingness to die for unknown people.
President Snow could use her however he wanted, but she wouldn't let him take her memories away from her one more time.
Time waited for nobody, much less for the victors to adapt to the idea of going back to the Arena. A single week was all it parted them from the Reaping. Seven short days that would be over in the blink of an eye, shoving all victors down the slide of nightmares that they had fought so hard to not fall back into for years.
The sun peeked over the horizon, announcing that the new morning was already upon them. Olive ignored it for a while. Part of her wanted to ignore all the chatter or preparations for potential Arenas, mutts, or plans. It was odd, as if talking about it would summon the Peacekeepers into everyone's houses, where they would be told that they were late and had to be in the town square in less than half an hour.
"Morning," said Finnick, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.
"Good morning." Olive closed her diary, leaving it in her drawer before concentrating her attention back on Finnick. "Rough night?"
"Not really." Finnick rested his head on top of hers, closing his eyes for what felt like a second, but inevitably made him start dozing off. "Had a nightmare and disappeared as quickly as it got there."
"What was it about?" she asked.
"I lost you, in the literal sense," he replied. "You were next to me, and then, poof, gone."
"Well, we can't let that happen, can we?" she smiled as Finnick moved his head to be in a more comfortable position. "Want to go back to sleep? We can skip today's training."
"No way. Today it's your swimming lessons," he said, sitting bolt upright on the bed as if a rush of energy had travelled through his body. "It's going to be so much fun."
"For you, maybe." She huffed, pulling the sheets over her body as she watched him walk around the room to get dressed. "Why do I need to know how to swim, anyway? It's been years since it was needed in the Games."
"Exactly," Finnick said, approaching her to pull the sheets off of her. "It's been years. That's exactly why it might be needed again."
"Come on, as if Snow wanted to make it easy for District Four." Olive rolled her eyes to add to her sarcasm, while also trying to get the sheets back. "I'm bad at swimming, Finnick. Face it, I'll never learn, much less seven days away from the Reaping."
"You need to at least not be afraid of the water, Liv. What if it's a matter of life and death? What if I'm nowhere near you? I need to at least know you'll be fine by yourself," he said, leaving the sheets at the bottom of the bed without a care in the world. "Now, either you get up, or I carry you to the beach."
"It's a tempting offer." She feigned to think about it, placing a hand under her chin. "But I must decline. I don't want you to drop me in water, where I can't even stand on my own feet. Again."
"Yeah? Then get dressed and come down. I'll make something for breakfast." He kissed her and walked over to the door. "Anything you feel like eating?"
"You cook, you choose," she replied.