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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It was the middle of summer in district four.
And the middle of summer, was marked by Finnick's birthday.
He'd officially turned seventeen a week ago, the event celebrated by a series of lavish parties in the Capitol, each one more suffocating than the last. The forced merriment, the shallow conversations, the constant scrutiny - it all left him feeling hollow, his heart yearning for a connection that remained stubbornly out of reach.
Even with Tomás by his side, acting as a fierce guardian angel, the Capitol felt like a gilded cage. He craved the warmth of the sun, the comfort of familiar surroundings, and most importantly, the solace he found in Azalea's presence.
It had been exactly a year ago they had shared their first kiss ever, and finally confessed their feelings towards one another.
But that solace he craved was gone. He no longer had Azalea, having ruined their relationship to protect her.
Back in District 4, surrounded by the familiar scent of saltwater and the comforting rhythm of the waves, he desperately hoped to outrun the ghosts of his Capitol experience. Yet, the pain and the emptiness remained. He couldn't simply forget, not without her.
So instead, he threw a birthday party. It was what any seventeen year old living alone in a giant house would do, right?
Except he was doing it in a desperate attempt to forget.
A desperate attempt to drown out the echoes in his mind, the house pulsated with the chaotic energy of teenage revelry. Loud voices thrummed through the air, masking the silence that gnawed at Finnick's heart. Alcohol flowed freely, a temporary numbing agent for the emotional turmoil within.
For Finnick, accustomed to the orchestrated chaos of Capitol parties, the scene was oddly familiar. But for the other teenagers, it was an anomaly, a night of unchecked freedom in stark contrast to their usual, tightly controlled lives. The party quickly spiraled into a blur of reckless abandon, a stark reflection of the turmoil within Finnick himself.
Through the haze of music and laughter, Finnick's gaze scanned the room, searching for a familiar face, a flicker of recognition from who he needed most. He longed for a genuine connection, a reminder of the life he once knew, the life he desperately wanted back. Yet, the crowd remained a sea of unfamiliar faces, their smiles fleeting, their laughter hollow.
❀ ~ ❀ ~ ❀ ~ ❀ ~ ❀ ~ ❀
The invitation stared back at Azalea, a stark white rectangle amidst the clutter of her desk. Finnick's name, bold and elegant, seemed to mock her from the paper. It was a formal invitation, meticulously crafted, just like the ones he would have sent to dozens of people. Generic. Impersonal.
A bitter wave of disappointment washed over her. Why did she care so much? Why did she hope for more? They were over. It was more than enough she had received this card through the mail in all honesty.
