Lost at Sea || Finnick Odair x OC (DISCONTINUED)

Eighteen: its a mental breakdooowwwwnn

DAPHNE

°•. ✿ .•°

As soon as I'm off the stage, I collapse into someone's arms. I think it's more than one person, though. All I know is they're warm, and my horrible tears and running makeup are smeared on their shirt. They drag me into the elevator, I think, where I'm still crying and sobbing. It feels as though I'm intact in my brain; my thoughts are articulating perfectly, my emotions clear to decipher. But somewhere along the way, a miscommunication happens, and I can't possibly express them.

Once we're inside, someone carries me into my room. I'm clinging, crying, and screaming as I'm set on the bed. It isn't until I sit up and open my eyes that I see Finnick ordering something on the menu, his fingers tapping it in like he's done it before. I rip off my shoes, my jewelry. By the time I'm trying to rip apart the skirt, Finnick has shoved sleep syrup down my throat, and I'm out in seconds.

When I wake up, I'm still in that dress. I take it off carefully, not wanting to rip it. I shower instantly, making sure to have taken out all the golden orbs and pearls that decorated my hair. I scrub my whole body clean, taking tender care as though I've been bruised and battered. I watch as the awful makeup runs down the drain, and I leave. I dry myself off, letting my hair stay damp. I put on some sort of silky dark green pants that are baggy and flowy, and a light blue shirt with plenty of breathing room.

As I leave the room, my tongue starts to feel dry. I find myself almost choking on my own spit as I find a glass of water, and quickly chug it down. How long have I been out?

"Ah, morning, sunshine!"

I flinch and whip around. I hadn't even noticed that Finnick was sitting at the table, his legs on it and some sort of tablet in his lap. He grins at me, an apple in his hand occasionally being tossed up for him to catch it. He throws it at me, and I catch it with reflexes that surprise myself. I bite into it, savoring the sweet flavor.

"How long was I out?" I ask as I reach for some pancakes.

"Not long. About fifteen hours." Finnick says. "I didn't give you the whole bottle. I mostly just needed you out."

I can't control the blush that rises to my cheeks as I look away in shame. "I'm sorry. I don't know what that was."

"Well, some call it a 'breakdown.'" He says, using air quotes. "Others call it an 'episode' or a 'relapse'. I enjoy 'psycho dance party' quite a lot, but you can take your pick."

Despite the situation, I find myself laughing. I toss the apple back to Finnick, and he takes a bite from it. He answers my next question before I can ask it. "Mags is out with some other Victors; the older ones. Something about needing time away from fifteen-year-olds."

"Fair enough." I shrug. I take a seat across from Finnick and order some pancakes. "Do I have anything else in my schedule?"

"Uh... I think we have a party to attend tonight... maybe some more throughout the week... I dunno. Nothing super important." He waves off. I don't really want to go to a party, but I don't say that. "So, when will you go shopping?"

I tilt my head. "Huh?"

"Oh, was that not a plan?" Finnick smiles. "Most of the time, when Victors have their first day off, they blow their money on ridiculous stuff."