Breathe in, Breathe out • F Odair² •

XV

"Make it enough, It's the only way."

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*Finnick POV*

Finnick Odair was beginning to hate his own name. He heard it one too many times in that Capitol accent, clipped and high-pitched with odd vowels. It echoed in his head every time he heard his name, no matter who was saying it, and he found that the Capitol was even tainting his name for him. That changed when he heard Athena say his name. Somewhere along the way, he heard her voice in his head when he heard his name, and he wondered if it could get any more beautiful. He liked his name in her mouth, trusted her with it. Perhaps it was that when she said it, he didn't feel like the Finnick Odair he had to be to survive, or the Finnick Odair that killed seven at fourteen, or the Finnick Odair that could barely drag himself out of bed some days. Or perhaps it was that he still felt like all of those things, but they did not feel as wretched as they usually did, he felt like he did not have to hate himself, he felt like he could be more. There were no sugary sweet, false pet names, no ridiculous nicknames, only Finnick. Just Finnick. Like Finnick was enough.

He felt like more, certainly, lying beside Athena, her warm, soft skin against his, her hair tickling his skin. The arena was a mere hours away, and he felt that knowledge creep up on him, bubbling up inside him. Before long, he knew, it would overwhelm him, but for now, he could push it away from him by pulling himself closer to Athena. Still, the temporariness of it all was hard to ignore, and he ached to find some way to freeze the moment, and stay in it for the rest of his life. This moment, only for him and Athena.

Finnick wasn't sure if he and Athena ever really slept that night. They spent the rest of the night holding each other, in some in-between state of dreaming and waking. They didn't speak, wishing to not break the silence, lest the other had actually managed to nod off. When Finnick was awake, he stared at Athena, just as he had gazed at her reactions to each touch and movement. She seemed to be slipping in and out of dreams and nightmares, at times looking troubled, at other times peaceful. Finnick didn't have any dreams, nightmares or otherwise, that he could remember. He had enough experience with the worst parts of his unconscious mind to know that this was a good thing for him.

It might have been that Athena was the dream. It had occurred to him, once or twice, that every moment he had spent with Athena was a dream, that he might wake up and find he had imagined her, find himself in his bed about to mentor for the first time, or still in the arena, or perhaps find himself before he'd ever volunteered to be in the arena, cursing himself for ever thinking someone so lovely could ever be in his life. And she did look almost dream-like, especially just then, the moonlight from the window making her skin seem to glow.

He reached to take one of her hands, kissing along her fingers gently, before shifting so that he was on top of her and kissing every bit of her he could reach. Before long, she began writhing a little underneath him, letting out gasps and sighs and whispering his name in the way he loved so much. He felt desire coil inside him at the sounds, intense and heavy, but he tried to ignore it. They didn't have enough time to go again. Once, he had thought the one thing they'd always have was time. Now, he cursed himself for ever being so naive.

"Sweet dreams?" Athena finally asked serenely, one of her hands running through his hair.

"Don't need dreams," he said in response, kissing up her thighs, towards her stomach. "I have you."

She gave him an endeared but rather confused look. He elaborated.

"Sometimes I think you might be a dream," he murmured against her skin. "Sometimes I think you're someone my brain made up to keep me from losing all sanity. Because you're so beautiful, all the damn time. You're so beautiful and you're so kind and so wonderful and so good. Too good for a world like this. Too good for me."