The four of us who remain have working on transforming the arena into something both comfortable and protective. Peeta and Finnick sit together as Finn teaches him how to weave leaves into bowls. Peeta's attempts are far from advanced but given the disastrous memories for my first time trying to weave, his work is impressive.
Finnick was always better at that sort of thing, me- I was a fighter, who was unfortunate because I couldn't even show off in that department. Finnick was just so damn good at everything, it would have infuriated me if I weren't so smitten with him from such a young age. Both of us were capable of violence, the primary difference between Finn and I was that I was more prone to act upon it. As much as he argued against it, Finnick was a gentle person, who cared for people and gave them everything that he had. He was selfless, genuine, and forgiving. I rarely felt good enough for the man.
As I toyed with the ring on my left hand, Atlas sat beside me with a thud. We sat just out of Finn and Peeta's range of hearing, so as he uttered the words, "What the hell is going on with you?" I knew they were meant for me and only me.
The vomiting, the dizziness, the fatigue, it wasn't like me. I rarely got sick, but everyone that knew me knew that illness was debilitating for me, it came in powerful waves that had the potential to immobilise me for a week. But my sickness wasn't something I could think about right now, not when so much was at stake.
Not when I had to protect Peeta.
Not when I could lose the love of my life.
I ran through all my memories, trying to remember if I'd ever told him that. Of course, I told him I loved him, had I ever told him he was my soulmate? The missing piece of my heart, Finn was my whole universe.
Did he know that while he fell for me first, I fell harder, and faster, without any warning I had willing leapt from that cliff face and landed in his embrace?
I would hang the stars just for him if he wanted me to.
"Well?" Atlas raised an eyebrow, "What's causing this? How do we stop this?" He was trying to help, in his weird, gruff, Atlas/Haymitch way. I adored him for that, and I leaned into his side, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder awkwardly, patting my head as he did so.
"I'm just sick, ok?" I said lowly, "I will surpass,"
"When? I'm not going to be able to cover for you forever, you know that, right?"
I didn't know what he meant by that, but there was an underlying message in his tone that filled me with dread. Did he know something I didn't? What was he seeing in me that I didn't see in myself? "What-" I began, but I was interrupted by the rustling of nearby leaves. Each of us had our weapons at the ready, until Katniss came into view, "Jesus, Kat, you scared the shit out of us," I mumbled, flopping onto my back with exhausting.
Katniss winced at the nickname, but there was a flicker of amusement in my eyes which caused me to smile. "He'd been drinking recently when I shot him out of a tree, but I couldn't find his source. I swear, I covered every inch of ground in a thirty-yard radius." She held up a skinned hunk of flesh and I pursed my lips at the sight.
For some reason, when I left the games, I had lost a love for eating anything meat-wise. There had been moments in my early days of surviving the games when I could only associate the sight with the bodies of my friends. Beck, stabbed, beaten and bloody. Elsie with a hole in her stomach. Thorn, swimming in his own blood.
Nausea rose in my throat at the thought.
"Can we eat it?" Peeta asked, lifting himself off the ground.
"I don't know for sure. But his meat doesn't look that different from a squirrel's. He ought to be cooked-" Katniss trailed off as she spoke, realisation written on her face at the end of her sentence. My eyes fell on Finnick, the man had bitten the inside of his cheek, a tired hand running through his damp hair. His eyes locked with mine briefly and he winked teasingly, sending butterflies straight to my stomach.
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.
Seeder from District Eleven. She was a fire, not the blazing kind that stuck all those around her, but a gentle glower presence that warmed the lives of all those who needed her. She had given her all to every single tribute she had mentored, none had survived, and she grieved them all the same.
Eight survivors, promised their safety for the rest of their miserable lives- had the games ever really ended for us?
The music subsides until all that remained was an owl hooting innocently in the distance. A tense silence fell over our group as we dispersed throughout the campsite. Peeta and Katniss were glued to each other's side, the boy's hand on her knee. A gentle whistle can from the air, a familiar sound to all the mentors that had distributed them over the years, a parachute. "Whose is it?" Katniss questioned as it floated into our den.
I shrugged as Finnick answered her, "Why don't we let Peeta claim it? Considering he died today,"
I pursed my lips as the younger boy unties the package to reveal a small silver utility, that glinted in the moonlight. I looked over to Atlas in search of an answer as to its identity, but he ruined my hope before I could ask the question, "What the hell is that?" He grumbled, snatching the metal object out of Peeta's hand.
It goes around the group, and each of us takes a turn in examining the object closer. Nothing. Five successful victors and nobody has an answer. "Could you fish with it, Rory?" Katniss asked, passing it back to me.
I chuckled lowly, shaking my head, "If I needed to fish, I'm just as good with a spear. Reign and Annie would know that" I explained, and she nodded in understanding. Haymitch would be collaborating with them, surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to send something we didn't need. What was needed more than anything was water, my throat cried for it, a scratch that wouldn't subside no matter what I did.
The group fell into a disappointed silence, and I rolled to my side, my eyes fluttered closed with exhaustion. Atlas and Finnick talked mutedly beside me, I heard my name once or twice, but I was so tired, I didn't care what they were saying about me. Atlas was worried about me, perhaps that was how I knew I should have been more concerned. Atlas never worried about anything.
There was a hand stroking my hair comfortingly and I fell deeper into a drowsy trance, I shouldn't have been falling asleep so easily, but with Finnick, I didn't have anything to worry about. Suddenly Katniss rang out from over in the distance, "A Spile!"
"What the hell is a spile," I yawn monotonously, and Finnick chuckled. I opened one eye to see Katniss scramble to the nearest tree, Atlas and Peeta following her eagerly.
"Rest," Finnick's lips brushed against my ear. I was too tired to argue, instead, I allowed my eyes to close once again, exhaustion had overtaken me. The rest of the group stood around the tree with bated breaths. Soon I hear a gentle trickle of water, followed by relieved sighs from the rest of the group. I smiled lazily as I stood up, taking some of the woven baskets Finnick and I had crafted and passed them around.
We all drink, guzzling the water until there's none left in the basket. Atlas is already refilling the baskets by the time we've quenched our thirst. With a return of water in my system, I felt better, far less lethargic, and nauseous than I had been before. Still, I'm exhausted, which Finnick recognises immediately.
Katniss and Finnick argued back and forth about the first watch, but Finnick wins the argument- primarily due to the overwhelming exhaustion all of us are feeling, but in part, because Finnick had once again revived the 'baby excuse'. Katniss huffed in irritation, but nevertheless, she took a position beside Peeta, her head rested against a tree.
I'm in an out of consciousness before for most of the night, eventually, Finnick's shift to watch ends and he slid onto a mat beside me, his arm draped over my waist subconsciously. I smiled to myself, rolling to my side, and burying my head into the crook of his neck. It's a warm night, but still, as If I needed to feel him beside me, reassuring me that he was still alive. So as our breaths fell into the same rhythm I forgot about the games, I ignored the feeling that nothing was right.
I only felt him.
My Finnick Odair, my fiancé, my best friend.
Have ya'll watched S4 of Stranger Things yet?
I have not recovered, my brain is only hardwired to love three men:
Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove (controversial, but if they wanted me to hate him they shouldn't have made Dacre Montgomery his actor).
What have I become?
Also Robin <3
(should I write a ST fanfic- and of who)