LABYRINTH [FINNICK ODAIR]

one

He slid around the corner of the hall and Drea's heart jolted in her chest. Panem help her, it was Finnick. 

He was handsome as ever, even at this time of night. His skin glimmered slightly, that beautiful tan color he claimed was all natural— and mostly was— and his bronze hair a glorious mess, his green eyes glittering like the sea that bordered the beach behind Drea's house in Victors Village. 

"Drea," he said, slipping into the elevator next to her. He smiled. 

She nodded. "Finnick." Drea released the hold button and the doors clasped shut before them. The elevator began to move. "Any new secrets tonight?" 

Finnick chuckled and gave a glimmery-eyed grin to her. "You know I don't kiss and tell." 

Drea smiled, tight-lipped, and stared straight ahead, knowing looking him directly in those sea-green eyes would bring back unwanted memories for them both. 

Finnick was one of Drea's mentors during the games, despite the fact that they were the same age. He'd won four years prior her games and was the youngest to ever do so at fourteen years old. He and Mags Flanagan, a sweet yet smart old victor, helped train Drea and her district partner in all things Hunger Games, though it had been Finnick's persuasive charm that ultimately saved Drea's life. 

The 69th Hunger Games took place in an arid, dry, desert arena, and Drea had simply managed to outlive most of her competitors. Most died in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, some others from dehydration, but Drea and her district partner were lucky enough to have Finnick, who got them innumberable sponsors and consequently a lot of help in the arena. 

She hadn't had to kill many of the other tributes in the arena, but those that she did still appeared in her nightmares. Even worse were the ones she had to watch die... 

"Would you like some help with that?" Finnick asked, knocking Drea from her memories. She followed his gaze to the half-tied corset around her waist, and on autopilot still, she nodded. 

Finnick moved in close behind her, deft fingers setting to work lightly tightening the strings of her purple corset, the one that matched the dress she wore under it. Drea tensed when his breath fanned the back of her neck, and she hated how she missed him. 

She and Finnick were close— or rather, they had been. When Drea made it out of the arena, Finnick did all he could to help her, to hold her firm to reality, to keep her sane. He'd been through it, he knew how it felt, and he knew what helped (not much) and what didn't (a whole damn lot). 

For a while, things seemed to get better. Drea won her games, completed her Victory Tour, and returned to Victors Village to live alone in a large, empty house. But she always had Finnick, and she had Annie and Mags and other victors she met in the Capitol from time to time, like Johanna, Blight, a few others. 

But when Annie was reaped for the 70th Hunger Games, it all fell apart. 

Drea and Finnick so desperately poured themselves into making sure their best friend would survive that they never even considered the consequences of survival. Annie returned from her games traumatized, more so than anyone Drea had ever seen. She'd witnessed her district partner get beheaded right in front of her, and it wrecked her. 

Seeing Annie hurt how she did destroyed Drea and brought back unwanted memories for them all. Drea neglected the rest of her life and focused on caring for Annie, and she was done lying down and taking it. 

Her first mistake— whenvever she had the chance, she protested the games, refused to attend Capitol events, giving off-handed comments on live television whenever she could.