Her violent sobs filled her room, the half empty bottle of vodka beside her. They'd won. Katniss and Peeta had won. Both of them had survived, together, neither of them having to die.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. Why couldn't they have done this for her and Ferric? Why? What was stopping them? Nothing, nothing was stopping them, her and Ferric just hadn't been interesting enough. After all, a tragedy is far more interesting than a happy ending.
"Fuck!" she screams, launching a glass vase at the wall. It shatters, the glass exploding and landing all over her floor.
"Cress, what the hell?" Finnick demands, walking into her room. His face quickly falls from anger to concern, seeing the bottle of vodka and the tears streaming down her face. "What happened?"
"They won. They fucking won!" she hisses, her words sliding through her teeth. "Both of them won, they both survived."
"What?" Finnick flicks on the TV, watching as the hovercraft descends and picks up both Katniss and Peeta. "Holy shit. They really did it."
"Fuck!" she yells again, moving to throw another glass at her wall. Finnick grabs her arm, forcing her to set the glass down on the table once more. Cress dissolves into loud sobs, covering her face with her hands. Finnick wraps his arms around her gently, and for once, she lets him. "It's not fair, Finn, it's not fair."
"I know, Cressie, I know," Finnick whispers, trailing his hand through her hair.
"Ferric could've lived, he could've been alive, he-he-" she becomes impossible to understand, slurring her words beyond recognition. Cress is a sobbing mess, her arms reaching for the bottle of vodka clumsily.
"Cress, no, no more vodka." Finnick moves the bottle away from her grasp, setting it on the table. She gives up after a while, her arms limp at her sides as she sniffles, managing to cry herself to sleep. Finnick stayed beside her, as she had accidentally fallen asleep on his chest.
"Fer..ric," Cress mumbles in her sleep, rolling over slightly.
"I know, Cress, I know," Finnick whispers, staring into the dark of the room as Cress sleeps.
---------------------------------------------------
"Aw, my head," she groans as she opens her eyes. She'd at least had the good sense to shut her curtains last night, so the light outside wasn't immediately in her face. Cress heard the breathing first, before she realized that she had a guest.
Finnick Odair was sleeping next to her, or rather, under her. Her eyebrows raise, headache momentarily forgotten as she feels her cheeks heat up.
"Finn, wake up," she mumbles, gently nudging his side. He grumbles under his breath, his arms tightening around her.
"Don't wanna," he grunts, shifting his body slightly under hers.
"Finnick, wake up," she says, louder this time. He groans and cracks open one of his eyes. She watches his expression change, from annoyance to shock to surprise and finally to embarrassment.
"Oh." is all he says, his arms quickly moving back to his sides as he lets her go. "Um. Sorry." Cress sits up as fast as humanly possible, then clutches her head. No rapid movement, got it. She stumbles into the bathroom and gets well acquainted with the toilet bowl.
"Finn, what's Haymitch's hangover cure all again?" she calls out to Finnick, who was in the kitchen she presumed.
"Raw eggs." That makes Cress gag again, her head shaking.
"Nevermind, forget I even asked." After a few more minutes of retching, she heads out to the small common area in the victor's apartment. There was one for each district, located on their respective floors.
"I ordered you a crêpe." Finnick points to the end of the counter, a plate bearing a crêpe and a small bowl of fruit waiting for her. She attacks the food, practically devouring it. "You feeling better?"
"No," she groans, clapping her hands twice. That causes the curtains to shut automatically, the darkness that now envelops the room letting her breathe. "Now I am."
"You're like a troll when you're hungover, I swear," Finnick snickers, sitting beside her on the couch. She shoves his shoulder with her elbow, to which he holds his hands up in surrender. "I mean, you're like a pretty princess who loves the sunlight."
"Shut up, your voice is hurting my brain," she groans, leaning back and putting her hand over her eyes. Finnick turns on the TV, flicking through the channels. "Anything good?"
"Nope. It's all about Katniss and Peeta," he responds. His voice is softer than usual, and she cracks her eyes open to peer at the TV.
"All about their love story, I presume?" she scoffs. "I don't buy it."
"Me neither. Peeta, I believe. But Katniss?" Finnick shakes his head. "She's trying to live, and I've got to respect that."
"Well she isn't doing a great job. The Capitol's going to be out for her blood after she showed them up at their own game." Cress frowns, staring at the TV. "They'll be after both of them, but her especially. That move with the berries is going to get her killed."
"You're right. I hate it when you're right," Finnick sighs.
"No you don't." Cress rolls her eyes, watching the reruns of the Games that played on almost every station.
"Yeah, I don't. But it's fun to pretend I do." Finnick smirks.
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"Look at her, all tucked into his side like that," Cress mutters, watching the interview from the couch. Finnick was seated beside her, eating popcorn from a glass bowl. "Should you be touching that?"
"Probably not. I got it off of the stand over there." he points to a display of decorative crystal vases and bowls.
"Finnick, seriously?" she raises her eyebrows. "You're a menace, you know that?"
"I try." he shrugs, smirking. "You love it though."
"Do not." she turns back to the TV, watching the slow-mo shots of Katniss' kills.
"You're such a Debbie Downer, you know that?" Finnick settles back with his crystal bowl of popcorn, occasionally handing a handful to Cress when asked.
"Shut up, at least I'm not a kleptomaniac like you." she sticks out her tongue.
"That was one time!" he protests. "And I didn't know that it was valuable!"
"It was on a stand, on display, in a wing labelled 'Artifacts of War'!" Cress exclaims. "It was literally labelled, and I quote, 'Helmet of General Farburough, who turned the tide of the war'!"
"Well I didn't see that, okay?" he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.
"You're so immature." she rolls her eyes.
"I'm very mature, thank you." he frowns.
"You order smiley pancakes for breakfast."
YOU ARE READING
The Flying Fish (Exocoetidae)|| Finnick Odair X Fem!OC
Fanfiction"Hello Birdie." "Not in the mood Finn." The 67th Hunger Games, with Iuvartus Templesmith as Head Gamemaker, was nothing special. The victor that year was Cress Bronzetide, a 16 year old girl from District 4. She was an unexpected victor, as her dist...
