Azalea Rose Willow loves three things above everything else:
summer, the only season that mattered in her mind.
singing, alongside the comforting embrace of her guitar.
but above all, the easy camaraderie with the boy who lives next door to her, and...
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As the weeks melted away, Azalea and Finnick found themselves deeply entwined in the enchantment of their summer love. Whether sneaking stolen moments away from Tomás or basking in the sun at the beach, every second together felt like a cherished memory in the making. Their laughter echoed with the rhythm of the waves, and the warmth of the sun mirrored the glow in their hearts.
It was a season of stolen kisses whenever they sneaked out to the beach under the starlit skies, secret rendezvous by the shoreline, and shared dreams whispered in the quiet of the night. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of joy and affection.
With each passing day, their connection deepened, and the happiness they found in one another's company became the most precious treasure of all.
Finnick, having wrapped up his day assisting the Andersens, observed a young boy from practicing spear fighting by the docks, holding a long stick as a make-shift trident.
As he got closer, Finnick recognised the boy. His name was Marco Ashwing, the youngest son of the Major of District 4. He was 12. Throughout the summer, Marco had attended all of Finnick's sessions at the academy.
Marco was immersed in his own world, practicing the techniques basic Finnick managed to teach him and his peers throughout the summer. A genuine smile graced Finnick's face, appreciating the dedication and concentration the boy displayed.
However, a misstep disrupted the rhythm, and the boy lost his balance, resulting in frustration. In a burst of anger, he flung the spear aside and sat on the edge of the dock, burying his face in his hands.
He sat on the edge of the dock, as he placed his face on his hands.
"Hey little man," Finnick took a seat next to Marco, offering a friendly greeting that caught the boy off guard.
"Finnick! Hey."
Marco sighed deeply, frustration evident on his face. "I'm useless," he muttered, voicing his struggle. "I can't master any specialty in the academy. My parents say they have no hope for me."
Finnick listened attentively, understanding the weight of the expectations placed on the young boy's shoulders.
"Hey, it's okay. Everyone has their strengths; you just need to find yours. You've shown a lot of talent in our few lessons together, you just need more practise. We'll work on it together, alright?"
"But what if I get reaped this time?"
Finnick reassured Marco, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Marco, you're only 12. Your name is in the reaping once, and you have years to learn and master your skills. It's almost impossible for you to get reaped at this age. Don't let that fear consume you. Focus on honing your strengths, and if the time ever comes, I'll make sure you're ready."
