- F A L L E N -

10

My interview gained much less applause.

My dress was weighed down by about a billion ruffles, and had the monotonous hue of a river that bleeds into the ocean.
My hair was burning into my scalp, and the sticky hairspray aroma wafted in prickly buzzes to my face.

When I walked out to show Finnick my extravagant makeup and attire, he just tilted his head and carried a faint admiring smile that one would give when admiring a little kid.

"Come here" he whispered sadly, the small creased smile belied his tone and his shoulders drooped in the heavy air.

I practically skipped to comfort him, and the way his head hung solemnly as I did made me want to burst into tears.

I hated seeing Finnick upset.

As soon as I reached him, Finnick pulled my shoulder and held my body in a tight hug. His costume radiated of jewels and leather, and I found myself longing for his usual scent.

He pecked my forehead as he rubbed his palm quickly up and down my shoulder, "you're beautiful".

"Am I?" I asked jokingly, a smile catching my lips.

Me and Finnick's relationship involved lots of banter, and to put it simply, we'd always acted more like best friends than lovers. We were affectionate, yes, but we both decided the thought of calling each other "babe" and "honey", or kissing in public, or adoringly complimenting each other day and night, was just something we'd rather not do.

And because we never fruitfully showed affection in our relationship, when we did, it was special.

"Oh shutup", he kid, and pushed me away lightly.

I turned back to face him and wrapped my arms around his neck, "you ready Finn?"

He sighed, "I suppose, are you?"

No.

"I will be".

And then we stood silently in each others embrace, and I tried to pay extra attention to what being held felt like. I knew I was unlikely to feel it again.

We stayed like this until the lady backstage started shouting Finnicks name, calling his name desperately, as if she were looking for a lost puppy.

So I kissed him once more, and then he was off.

—-

I'd forgotten just how blinding it was to step on stage, how fervently lit the platform was, how the lights could blind you if you were brave enough to look into them.

The Capitol crowd was large. In their bright and colorful getup, they looked like a swarm of tropical fish, aimlessly but ardently traveling to the other side of the sea.

The air teemed with unmade laughter and cries, and suddenly all I could think about as I heard my introduction from Ceaser Flickerman, his cunning voice blasting in my ears, was how heavy my dress was.
I wanted to sink into the ground, I wanted to cry and wail head first on the ground like a little baby, "It's too tight!" I wanted to let the weight of the fallen ruffles cover me completely like a cocoon, as I cupped my face and sobbed like a madman into my palms.

"There she is, from district 4, our very own Y/n L/n!"

I continued to walk towards the tribute chair, it faced opposite Ceasar, and in that moment I wondered how many kids he'd known throughout the entirety of his career. As I sifted onto the leather chair, crossing my legs politely, I looked at his artificial hair, a vibrant and lurid shade of blue, and wondered how many kids he'd watched die.

Did he ever think about them?

"Y/n!"