The Imagination Latibule: The Hunger Games - Sweet as Sugar

Chapter 5

You couldn't sleep. 

In the first few years following your Hunger Games victory, you were often plagued with nightmares that had you screaming as you woke up. Eventually, the memories had faded to a place where they were manageable, but now, they were back in full force. But alas, it wasn't until you'd started having one that you realised.

You could see the arena where you fought to your death. You were standing on the podium, waiting for the games to begin, and that's when you saw Finnick across the circle, surrounded by the Careers. rather than facing the centre of the cornucopia where a pile of weapons offered whoever stole them a chance at victory, they were all facing him, gnashing their teeth and curling their fists.

"Finnick!" you tried to yell, but you didn't have a voice. You reached your hand up to your neck, blood was trailing from it as though someone had cut out your voice box. 

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

As a bang signalled the start of the games, you couldn't leave your podium. It was like someone had glued your feet to the metal, and no matter how much you yanked, it wouldn't come away. "Finnick!" you tried again, trying to get him as the Careers sprinted towards him. He had no weapons, no defence... no chance at survival. You could do nothing but watched as the Tributes reached him, and --

"-- y/n!" you heard, and suddenly your eyes opened. You were in a bed, in the Capitol, and Finnick was leaning over you, hands on your shoulders as he shook you from the nightmare. 

"Finnick," you breathed, finding your voice came easily as you grabbed his arms.

"You're ok y/n," he said. "It was just a dream. It was just a dream." 

You stared at him as the two of you fell silent, and you matched your heavy breaths to the steady rise and fall of his chest. You sniffled slightly, lip trembling as your frown threatened to give away how close to tears you were. But Finnick knew you all to well, and the bed sank as he sat down, pulling you into him and hugging you tightly. 

"Thank you," you mumbled, breathing him in. He smelt different. The grand expanse of scented soaps in the Victors showers had masked the comfort you normally felt at his close presence - not that the two of you were normally unclean, but you had grown accustomed to whatever the Capitol's citizens hadn't. 

"Any time," he answered, leaning back. As he stood from the bed, you noticed a resurfaced fear in his eyes. 

"You getting them too?" 

"Nightmares? Haven't stopped." 

You squeezed the bridge of your nose. "This Hunger Games is so much worse than any that have come before," you said as he reached the doorway. "I've got you, someone I care about, in there, and that's..." you trailed off. 

Finnick stopped, turned, nodded. "Don't worry y/n," he said. "I don't plan on winning,"  You shot up like a bolt, marching over to him in a cold sweat and lump in your throat.

"Don't you dare say that," you cried, hitting his shoulder angrily. "Finnick Odair, if anyone's surviving this games, it's you."

"y/n--"

"--no!" you yelled, tears running down your cheeks. "All this talk of rebellion, and hell, I'm down to overthrow these Capitol bastards, but until we know for sure that there's a chance of more than one person surviving this, you're winning these games."

"y/n," Finnick said again, this time more softly as you lowered your hands. 

"Sorry," you mumbled. His dressing gown had come loose where he'd woken you, and you tied it back up, avoiding his eye.

"You think after last years games they'll allow more than one Victor?" he asked.

You scoffed. "Seneca Crane, you bastard." 

Finnick shook his head again. "Katniss," he said quietly. "She's the face of this rebellion. I talked to Haymitch earlier and--"

"-- you spoke to him without me?" 

"Yes." You were hurt and Finnick could tell as he closed the bedroom door and guided you back to the bed. You both sat, legs swinging over the edge. "My first priority is you. She's the one who started all of this, but he knows that if it came down to you and Katniss, I'd choose you."

You shook your head. "If it came down to me and Katniss, choose her," you said. "She's your best chance of survival." 

"No."

"Finnick..."

"Would you? If it was between me and Peeta, and he was the face of the rebellion, could you choose him?" 

You fell quiet, picking at you nails. "...No," you admitted with a sigh. "No. I couldn't." 

Finnick smiled sadly at you, patting your hands gently. "There you have it then." The conversation ran dry as you each allowed your thoughts to wander where they shouldn't. The thought of loosing Finnick was-- 

"--Good night y/n." He'd wandered to the door, but you weren't about to let him go. 

"Wait," you called, and he stopped in the doorway. You suddenly felt shy. "Can you stay?" you asked. "Please Finnick." 

Finnick looked at you like he'd been waiting for you to ask that for years. He nodded, walking slowly back to the bed as you pulled the covers back to let him in. He sat down next to you, slightly higher up the pillows than you were, and you curled up on your side, wrapping your arm around his torso, using his chest as your pillow. Finnick wrapped his arms around you tightly, and you could hear his heart beating steadily as you took a deep breath.

"I've never felt safer than when I'm by your side," you whispered, "and I don't want them to take that from us. I don't want them to drive a wedge between us."

"They won't," Finnick mumbled. "They could never."

"But that's what scares me. I think they could."

"You know I love you more than anything, right?" Finnick asked, and you nodded.

"I love you too," you replied. "Always... God, how did we get here, huh?" 

"God had no part in it," Finnick answered with a dry chuckle as he intertwined his hand with yours. "There's just Snow."

"Snow," you repeated, practically spitting the name out. Tomorrow was the procession down the avenue of the Tributes, where, for the first time in 9 years, and probably the last, you would see him in person. But above that, you were hoping it would be the first and last time you saw him alive.