𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘.

Rupert and Acorn Bread

In the time since Rosie had last seen him—close up, that is—Finnick had regained the olive hue he lost over winter.

His hair was a little longer, too; the ends bleached a lighter blond by the sun.

He'd also gotten taller—as had Rosie, but him more so. He was slowly putting distance between the two, when they first met they were almost the exact same height.

"You need a haircut," she smirked.

Finnick scoffed, holding the palm of his hand against his heart. "I haven't spoken to you in months and that's how you greet me, Ro?" The jab back was good-natured, all their conversation led to them being happier when they stopped talking than when they started. "I must say, I think I should've given you a hairbrush for your birthday–" he leaned in, pretending to judge her perfectly braided—slightly ruffled, thanks to Elio—hair.

She shoved his shoulder back. "Oh, piss off."

The pair forgot about the hustle and bustle of those milling around; Capitol workers working like ants to get everything perfectly prepared, Mentors conversing with other Mentors, and Tributes shuffling anxiously. Both Rosie and Finnick, wouldn't have noticed if the lights went dark, they were so content with each other's presence. It was like a breath of fresh air after being starved for months, having what you crave waved in front of you just out of reach. For months they were subjected to the knowledge they were so close but unable to speak a word to one another.

Finnick's eyes flicked to something behind Rosie, "We're going, I do not want to talk to him," he mumbled uncomfortably. He placed a palm against Rosie's back, guiding them both away from the throng of people, away from a man that haunted Finnick.

Rosie didn't question it, if Finnick wanted to drag her into the pits of Hell she would've skipped along with him, toward the flames, a stupid smile on her face.

As he walked through doors, never letting his hand leave Rosie's back for more than a few seconds, they got to a set of stairs that seemed to go up forever. Rosie guessed they were emergency stairs; they had similar ones, much, much less clean and modern, at the factories in District 9.

They hiked them in comfortable silence. Finnick's hand dropped once they started ascending, leaving Rosie's back feeling cold, the butterflies that burned in her stomach fizzled out and died quickly. The buzz of electricity that zapped through her when his palm warmed her back was borderline concerning to the teenager, Rosie was almost disturbed that her body was so desperate to have someone touch her.

Ever since the Games—even before—she lacked the comfort of a hug that wasn't given by a child. Orion's hugs, while nice, were often sticky or dirty and usually served to calm him down, not her. She never had time to get worked up. Rosie always had something to do, cooking for Orion, cleaning up after Orion, checking that her Uncle wasn't dead, catching food for the family, fixing the house, ensuring Orion was getting a decent education so he could get a better job; there was always something to do, so she wasn't given a second to break down.

And then she won herself a lifetime's supply of money to buy all the things she struggled for, she got the opportunity to work herself up, and she did, but she couldn't ever ask for a hug. Rosie always wanted someone to just know that she didn't always want to have a conversation from at least six feet away.

She didn't know how to ask for someone to touch her, or hold her. 

The extent of Rosie's contact usually consisted of contact such as Elio elbowing her, Orion hugging her—those hugs were getting few and far between as he began to be too cool for her—and Jessica almost falling out the tree and needing to be caught.