Seafoam and Stars

▬▬ 𝟏𝟐 ∙ 𝗙𝝾𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽

˚✩ ⋆｡ ✩┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ┊✦ ˚ · .

▬▬ 12 ∙ 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

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THE MINUTE I realize that Johanna's not fighting back when I try to pick her up is the first moment that sounds an alarm in my mind. I waited a few minutes before approaching her, only to find out that she's asleep. I try shaking her awake, but she's out cold, both from the sheer amount of alcohol she must have consumed and exhaustion.

    A lot of that's been going around lately—and all the time.

    Thankfully, nobody's in the mentor's lounge right now; everyone's either having lunch or finding a way to sneak into the Training Center to get a peek at their tributes. Their security measures were never too secure anyway. While that means no one's here to help me get Johanna back onto the couch rather than her half-on half-off position, it also means nobody's here to see how pitifully I'm struggling. I have about five minutes before the victors come flooding back in here to find Blight after I help—more like carry, there was no helping from her end—Johanna onto the couch. I figure he might be at lunch, since according to Johanna, he thinks his tributes are doomed for death too, laughing and exchanging stories with Haymitch about how doomed their tributes are—the underdogs usually banded together.

    Unsurprisingly, Blight's at lunch, but surprisingly, he's not laughing with Haymitch; rather, the two of them are engaged in deep conversation. Even more surprising is the fact that Haymitch isn't holding his usual glass of alcohol—he's sober and looks miserably, but he's sober.

    When people start noticing me, their conversations stop and they stare at me. Many of them haven't seen me until now, near the end of lunch. Finnick, who's sitting among them—I guess his appointment ended early today—stands first and walks toward me.

    "Cory?"

    "Get Blight," I say, and my voice is a lot stiffer than I expected, my throat closed off. "It's Johanna."

✯✯✯

I fiddle with my fingers as Johanna stirs in bed. Blight had finally pulled his act together and cared for Johanna for what seemed like the first time—which is about the equivalent of him carrying Johanna to their floor under the threats of Finnick and me.

    "She'll be okay," Blight says, the nicest thing he's said to me before—and possibly also the first. "Have one hell of a headache when she wakes up if she managed to pass out, but you won't be around to witness that."

    "Like hell I won't." I stand from the chair and storm around her bed right to Blight. "If you think that I'll be able to get a second of rest knowing that she's unconscious right now, then you clearly know me a lot less than you thought."

    "I didn't think I knew you at all."

    "And considering I was the one to find Johanna, to stop her from wasting away until she was even more drunk, I don't know how trustworthy you are."

    "Listen... Cory, right?" I nod stiffly. "Cory, have you ever had any type of alcohol before? And not the kind you put into food that gets cooked off—cooking wine?"

    "No," I admit. "No, I haven't."

    "Right then. Firstly, completely insane, I'm convinced you're a psychopath for living so long. Secondly, what you don't understand about alcohol is how addicting it is. It's like... like an endless source of happiness. You know it's not great for you because it makes you pretend you're one thing while someone could be punching your face off, but you can't resist taking a little more. A little more can't hurt, so a little becomes a lot, and a lot becomes a regular thing. Now, keeping that in mind, you tell me—would you stop taking from that endless source?"