Liberosis - The Hunger Games

47

I was not that kind of girl.

But for him, I would be anything he wanted me to be.

I could tell he was starving, thirsty and exhausted, though he was doing a good job of masking it. I hadn't realised that Finnick and I were still staring at each other, my hand toying with my engagement ring until Atlas cleared his throat. Finnick released his bottom lip from his teeth, and I shook my head in disgust. I should not be thinking about him this way right now.

Why the hell not? He's your fiancé...

Needless to say, this 'just friends' ploy was taking its toll on both of us.

"As I was saying," Atlas said with amusement as Peeta and Katniss glanced around awkwardly, "What are we going to do about the whole 'no fire' situation,"

I shrugged my shoulders as Finnick opened his mouth to prompt an idea, "Wait," Peeta said, darting over to Katniss and cutting a piece of the meat from the whole. He skewered it on a stick, prodding it at the forcefield until a sizzling noise was made. Somehow, the inside had been perfectly cooked on his first attempts.

"Pretty boy!" Finnick applauded, I whistled in response, clapping my hands, the group broke into excited encouragement and Peeta took a bow jokingly, tossing the cooked meat into the air and catching it in his mouth. I smiled at the blissful moment of comfort, soon to be stripped away by the realisation of where we were.

We were too loud, too excited, and too friendly for the Hunger Games, we were supposed to be dead within the week, worse than that, we were supposed to kill each other. The Hunger Games wasn't a place for comradery, as Finnick had said before, we weren't holding hands anymore. The Careers were on the hunt, the pack would find them eventually, and I would be forced to make the first move, for the sake of the revolution, for the sake of the people around me surviving.

As the sun lowers in the sky, I feel exhaustion at its worst, weakly, I lay down on one of our weaved mats, peeking up at the setting sky. It was laden with rich amber and pastel pinks, dancing and swirling over the sparse canvas of the sky. I smiled nostalgically, remembering all those free periods I spent at school in the art room, ignoring the world and painting the sky those exact colours.

"Damn, Rory, those waves look good enough to surf on!"

I giggled at the memory, causing the rest of the group to snap around in confusion, but I continued to peer up at the sky, reminiscing on the reality that seemed so far away. Finnick walked over to my mat sitting beside me as he continued to converse with Katniss about her hunt. I shuffled into a seated position, resting my head against the shoulder of my oldest friend.

Finnick Odair, there for me in life, and there for me in our imminent death- there was no hiding what we felt for each other. His fingers trailed up my spin supportively and I shuddered at the feeling causing him to smirk devilishly. I scowled, slapping his thigh and he laughed gently, resting his head atop of mine.

The sky soon morphed into a deep onyx, dotted with glittering stars. All of us knew what was coming next, Atlas, Katniss and Peeta shuffled closer to us as the anthem blared across the arena. Eight people were dead, my heart shattered as I recognised certain tributes.

Cecelia had once comforted me when I was overwhelmed with publicity, she had young children, that much I remembered. I remembered her kind smile and her greying hair, her tired eyes and her motherly embrace. Three children had lost their mother.

Woof, the other from District Eight. He had been Atlas' friend and long-time drinking buddy alongside Haymitch and Chaff. Atlas' jaw tensed in acknowledgement; his head dipped to hide his sorrow. I stretched out my hand to brush the old man's. Finnick laid his hand on top of mine and Atlas' as a single tear ran down his face.