She was a capitol elite.
He was the youngest victor in history.
Their friendship was frowned upon, but their love was forbidden.
Extended Summary Inside
--
Finnick x OC
Pre- hunger games - Mockingjay
Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins. All rights...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Finnick spent the 66th Hunger Games with Amara White. The two of them watched as Devin was killed in the blood bath, and Vixen made it out. Apparently, Vixen hadn't updated him on the broken alliance, and he'd been killed the second he went to them for support.
"Are you okay?" Amara asked the second it was over. Finnick nodded numbly, suddenly understanding what Cashmere was talking about. He understood the toll of watching your tributes die year after year.
He understand why Haymitch took to the bottle.
"We knew it was coming," he said quietly. The two watched the first few hours tensely, their eyes barely moving from the screen.
When things were moving slow and most of the tributes seemed to be in hiding, Amara and Finnick sat on her couch and would talk.
"Favorite color?" he asked. She grinned and pointed to his necklace.
"Too easy. Red. Give me something good."
"What, you don't think it's important to know each other's favorite colors if we're going to be friends?" He laughed, and she shook her head.
"No, and I know yours is blue so don't try and trick me," she said and he narrowed his eyes at her.
"How did you know that?" he asked. Pink crept onto her cheeks and she took the opportunity to hide her answer in her drink.
"I watched your interviews," she mumbled. His jaw dropped. Had she been doing the same thing he was?
"Stalker," he teased. "Favorite album?"
"My first one," she answered immediately. "The songs I wrote for my first album were what made me fall in love with music."
"And your current ones don't?" He asked, studying her as she tilted her head to the side and thought for a moment.
"No, I still love music, but now I have a show to put on, and it's hard to look past that."
"I get that," he said, and she raised an eyebrow.
"You do?" she asked and he laughed humorlessly.
"What do you think the life of a victor is?" he asked rhetorically. Amara paused. She had never thought about what happened to the victors after the games. They were given a lot of money and had to help other tributes win. They weren't in charge of putting on a show. At least, she didn't think they were.
She could tell that Finnick was uncomfortable talking about the Games, though, so she changed the topic.
"Tell me about your favorite memory," Amara said, tossing a grape into the air and catching it with her mouth.
Finnick sat there for a moment, a sad smile stretching across his face.
"My dad was a fisherman," he said, "he used to take me out on this ratchet boat and we would spend the entire day at sea. Then, we would stop off on this tiny piece of island. It was barely bigger than this apartment, and it was in the middle of the ocean, but we would smoke our fish and talk all night."
