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𝑇𝑊𝐸𝐿𝑉𝐸 ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏn ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ
❦
Sleep did not come to him.
Each time his eyes closed he thought of his own games. Of the people- children- he'd killed. He thought of what he was coaching these tributes to do. Of what he was allowing. All of what he wasn't doing.
The cool air was welcomed. Up on the rooftop, privacy was imagined yet still accepted. Finnick sat across from the forward, legs hanging over the edge, feet pressed against invisible barriers. When Cillian stepped out to join him, a familiar voice finally became audible from somewhere behind the rose bushes.
Throwing his legs over the side, he sat by Finnick, sparing no greeting. The other mentor only nodded, deep in thought. His face was still flushed from the brushing of the wind and he still wore the thin shirt that he had during the day.
"Is that Johanna?"
Finnick took a moment to respond, shaking his head as if brushing away the thoughts. Cillian knew that movement well. "Yeah. I'm not sure who with. I don't recognise the voice."
He had not heard who she was with and had almost assumed she was alone, talking away her fears to the sky and the stars. Johanna was not one to stay quiet when she had something to say. The Capitol would hear all they said anyway and more often than not it was Snow himself that she wanted to get her words across to.
"No cigarettes?"
Cillian noticed the smirk on his face and shook his head, chin raising smugly. "I don't smoke." The words fell falsely from his lips.
For a moment, they were quiet again, looking out across the sea of skyscrapers that polluted the night sky. Lights lit up the horizon, spanning as far as the eye could see. It almost looked like an illusion, like a mirror in the far distance making the Capitol look far larger than it was- making it look hopelessly inescapable.
"You know, Giselle said this view is the only good thing about the Capitol," Cillian said. "I wonder what District One looks like to ever think this is a pretty sight."
Even the scenery of District Seven was better. There was something arguably beautiful about the forests of trees and the way the sun peaked through the branches, even on the coldest and cloudiest of mornings. There was a wistful smile on Finnick's face, making him look calmer than he ever had before.
"Nothing can beat the ocean."
Cillian watched his face, the way his eyes lit up and his shoulders soothed. He wished to love a place as much as he did, one day. Perhaps it would be somewhere his family found, far past the boundaries of the Capitol and the districts, where no dictatorship could hold them.
