Hurricane • F. Odair

ten » move closer

prepare for some heartache, bitches

A L T H E A

"Angelfish," Finnick's voice was heavy with the same sleep he tried to pull her from. Althea rolled over and pulled his blankets over her skin.
"Five more minutes," she groaned. Despite being in the Capitol for only three days, Finnick's scent cling to the sheets. Althea buried her nose into the material and inhaled until her lungs were at full capacity.
"Angelfish, it's midnight. We slept through lunch and dinner." Althea's stomach grumbled, backing his statement. Peeling her eyes open, her blues met his greens. He was half an arm's length from her. Heat radiated between them, begging her to move closer.
"Why don't we get something to eat and go back to bed?" He asked. She propped herself onto one elbow. Finnick was even more beautiful up close and with bed head.
But she didn't want him to be in pain. "Are you sure you want to move? I can go get some food."
He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It must've fallen out while they slept. A smirk crossed his lips as her cheeks burned scarlet. "I'm peachy keen, angelfish. Annie brought me some meds earlier. The bruises are already gone."
Althea only nodded. From her position above him, she could smell his sweat mixed with his normal musk. And even in the dark, his eyes were vibrant as ever in their sleepy state.
Especially as they watched her.
He reached up again and cupped her face with a calloused, warm hand. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. Her heart hiccuped ferociously, so loud that she swore he could hear it. Yes, she was partially used to his flirting. But even though she refused to admit her feelings to even herself, she knew that they were there. However, she also knew that she could not allow herself to indulge in a delicacy such as love when one of them, if not both, could be dead in less than forty-eight hours.
Finnick's perfectly thin lips pulled into a frown. "Where did you go?" His thumb stroked her cheek tenderly. Closing her eyes, she grasped his hand and placed a gentle kiss on his palm.
That was all she could ever allow herself to do.
Then she put up her walls and blocked her heart from the one person who held enough power to absolutely shatter it.
He knew as soon as she opened her eyes again. "No." He sat up quickly. "You don't get to do that with me, Althea." She backed away, her heart flinching at the use of her full name. She pulled the covers from her body.
"I should go," she whispered. Despite the strength of her walls, she couldn't trust her voice to be as strong. He gripped her arm as she got out of bed, yanking her not six inches from his face. His eyes searched hers as she fought to keep control of her breathing.
   Empty. Blank. Cool nothingness.
"What did I do, angelfish?"
   Keep it together. Leave before your resolve breaks.
"Nothing." She pulled her arm from his grasp and exited the room before she could throw herself into his arms and kiss him until she died. Grabbing her shoes, she moved swiftly to the elevator.
A small hand found itself attached to her wrist. The size and lack of wrinkles forced Althea to plaster a smile on her face.
"Hi, Annie," she greeted as sweetly as possible. Annie's red hair was wild, eyes tired.
"Is something wrong?" The redhead asked.
"Oh, nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over." Althea kissed the top of Annie's head. As if on cue, a shout followed by a crash emitted from Finnick's room, causing both women to flinch. Althea's eyes pricked with tears and Annie's grip tightened.
"Did you make him angry or sad?" Annie's pretty blue eyes were fierce and startling. Her grip was almost painful on Althea's wrist.
The brunette winced. "I did what I had to do in order to protect—" what had she been protecting but her own heart?
"Yourself," Annie finished, disappointment palpable in her tone. "In the years that I've known you, you've never been selfish or stupid. I guess there's a first time for everything."
She let go of Althea's wrist as the latter stood, gobsmacked. Althea fought back her surprise and guilt as Annie left to her own bedroom. Controlling her breathing became an impossible task. With a shaky finger, she pressed the up arrow repeatedly.
The elevator could not move fast enough. When the doors finally opened, she all but hurled herself into the small space.
She ignored Thatcher's sleeping form on the couch and their stylists brainstorming in the dining room. Instead, she headed straight for her father's room.
Logan always had exceptional hearing, so the bedroom door was opened before she had the chance to knock. He pulled her into a hug wordlessly. Their combined tremors cause their embrace to shake, but neither seemed to care.
As she held desperately onto her father, one thought among many haunted her.
What had she done?

A/N: hey loves! it's a short one, but it packs a punch! thoughts, comments, concerns? I hope you're doing well and that you don't hate me for this. xoxo