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

Thirty-Two: yuck! FEELINGS!

DAPHNE

°•. ✿ .•°

I'm glad I'm not a mentor this year. I nearly broke into sobs when I watched Johanna's name be called. I saw the slight girl walk onto the stage, tears already pooling in her eyes, and I couldn't help but feel grief already.

I like Johanna. I don't see her often. In fact, I have seen her twice in all. But, I feel like we bonded immensely. We took a walk that night on Annie's tour, and I felt like I could truly talk to her. And for some reason, she seemed to talk to me, too. So to hear her name called at the Reaping was like hearing my own.

"Finnick." I say. I loom over the bed he lies in, white sheets lazily thrown over his body. He's on his stomach, his bare back facing me as he sleeps soundly. I dislike disturbing him in this state since neither of us is able to sleep properly, but I don't know who else to go to. "Finnick!"

He jolts awake, slowly turning over to look at me. It doesn't take him long to register the tears on my face, and slowly, he lifts the blanket up. I crawl into the bed with him, soaking in the warmth he left behind. He throws an arm over my abdomen, a proper weight. I finally feel like I'm not floating away any more, like there's an anchor tying me to the mortal plane once more.

"What's wrong?" He asks, exhaustion lingering in his voice.

I don't know how to answer that. There are both a million answers and no answers. Watching Johanna's interview tonight made me feel sick to my stomach. But, I don't think it was necessarily her. I suddenly saw myself sitting in that seat. I remember the feeling of Caesar touching my hand- how scaly and cold and inhuman his skin was.

It doesn't take much to get the ball rolling. Every horrible thing that has happened these past five years suddenly comes back into my mind. Disgusting images all splattered with blood, but I can never tell whose blood it might be. Perhaps the blood that seeped from Kore's abdomen. Perhaps the blood that I splattered on my face when I killed Champagne. Perhaps the blood of Kym and Triton when they took their final breaths.

Or perhaps the blood from my own death. The only death I seem to long for anymore.

"Everything." I whisper. It's all I can manage. I remember being told it will get better some day. That the pain will never go away, but someday, I can make room for it.

Why does it feel like the space for it has gotten smaller?

Every single day I feel worse. Every single day I question why I'm still running. I'm no longer running on hope. I'm not running on revenge, either. There's nobody to exact my revenge on. I feel like I'm some stupid machine in the Capitol. I feel like gasoline is the only reason I even go anymore.

He pulls me closer. He has strong arms. He's warm, too, and his breathing is rhythmic and soft. He pulls me close enough that his nose is pressing into my neck, but he doesn't kiss me. Do I want him to? Kisses are not a thing we share very often. I wonder if we should.

"It's all coming apart." I admit. His hair is tickling me right under my jaw, and it manages to keep me sane long enough to speak. "I feel- I feel like everything I've done or created in these past years just... means nothing."

It's silent enough that I can hear the crickets beyond the walls of this house. I can gently hear the ocean lapping at the shore, kissing Him softly with Her sweet lips.