𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟 ⟢ 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕆𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕣

- ֆɨӼȶɛɛռ

"Willa," Asher said, gently knocking on her door before opening it. Willa picked her head up a bit to look at the teenager.

"I don't wanna talk to him," she mumbled. She knew Finnick was there. But as much as she liked him, she wasn't in the mood to talk to him.

"He's not going to leave until you talk to him. I'm sorry," Asher apologized. Willa rolled her eyes and sat up.

"Fine," Willa said. Asher disappeared, Finnick appearing in his spot. Finnick stepped into the room, his usual confident demeanor softened by concern as he closed the door behind him. Willa sat up slowly, pulling her knees to her chest as she looked at him, her expression guarded. She'd hoped he would take the hint and leave, but she knew better. Finnick was persistent, especially when he sensed something was wrong.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. He took a few tentative steps closer, his gaze searching hers. "I... I know you don't really want to talk, but I thought maybe you could use some company."

She looked away, trying to ignore the way her heart picked up at his presence.

"You didn't have to come, you know," Willa told him.

"I wanted to," he replied, his voice gentle yet unwavering. He moved to sit beside her, not too close but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Willa, I know things have been... rough."

A humorless laugh escaped her as she glanced at him.

"Rough is one way to put it," she felt the weight of her recent public appearances despite not having many yet, the Capitol's constant demands, the suffocating expectations all crashing down on her, amplified by the distance she'd put between herself and the one person who understood. And now he was here, sitting beside her, waiting for her to open up.

"Talk to me," Finnick told her.

"Why don't you wanna ally with me? You promised me you'd always protect me," she whispered. Finnick's expression softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently placing a hand over hers. She looked down at their hands, at his rough, calloused fingers intertwined with hers, and felt a small comfort in the simplicity of the touch. Finnick's thumb brushed over the back of her hand, a soothing gesture that calmed the storm inside her.

"Willa, it's not that I don't want to ally with you. You know I would do anything to protect you," His voice was low and steady, like a balm to her fraying nerves. Willa felt a knot tightening in her stomach, the uncertainty and fear of the arena creeping back in.

"Then why can't you? I thought we were on the same side," Willa said. He hesitated, his expression growing serious.

"It's complicated," was all Finnick said. Willa furrowed her eyebrows, reading him.

"You know something. Why aren't you telling me?" Willa asked. Finnick let out a shaky breath. He couldn't tell her. She was deemed untrustworthy no matter how much FInnick tried to argue she was.

"I can't tell you," Finnick whispered.

"Why? Is it because I'm a Career?" she asked him. Finnick didn't say a word but that gave Willa her anwer. Why wasn't she trustworthy enough? She hated being a Career and he knew that. "Who's more important to you than me?"

Finnick looked down, his jaw clenched, and for a moment, Willa thought he wouldn't answer. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on him. Her chest tightened as she waited for a response, each second feeling like an eternity.

"It's not... it's not about you. I wish I could explain, Willa. You have no idea how much I wish I could. But if the others found out I told you..." he trailed off, his voice barely audible.

"The others? You couldn't promise an alliance because there's others?" Willa asked him. Finnick's gaze met hers, filled with a mixture of regret and something she could only describe as guilt. Willa's heart twisted painfully as she tried to understand what he wasn't saying. She'd always thought they were on the same side, that whatever strange loyalty he had to others would never come between them.

"Why would you want to ally with other people?" she said, her voice quieter now, each word heavy with the hurt she couldn't quite hide.

"Willa, it's not what you think," Finnick began, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "There are people in this... people that I have to keep safe," His voice grew rougher. "I made a promise, Willa. Just like I promised you once."

"You promised to keep me safe. Why can't I be enough for you?" she whispered. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, the weight of her question hanging in the air. When he opened them again, there was a sadness there that she hadn't seen before.

"You are enough for me. You always have been. But I have to be enough for them, too. Something bigger is happening," Finnick said, desprate to try and get her to understand.

"Something bigger that you can't even fucking tell me. Why? Are you planning on killing us?" Willa asked, talking about herself and the other careers, as she pushed herself up off the bed. Finnick's face paled at her accusation, and he took a shaky breath.

"Willa... I would never hurt you," he murmured, but she was already pacing, the hurt in her eyes burning hotter now, twisting into something sharper.

"You are hurting me Finnick! Why are you acting like I'm the enemy?" she shot back, her voice tight. "If you don't want to ally with me, then what am I supposed to believe, Finnick? You keep talking about secrets, about people you have to protect, but I'm here trying to figure out where I fit in... and all you're giving me is a reason to doubt you."

"Please," he said softly, standing and reaching toward her, his hand hovering between them. "I need you to trust me."

"Trust you? When you're hiding things from me?" Her voice broke slightly, and she swallowed, hardening her expression. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were never on the same side."

"You are on my side, Willa. There's just things I can't tell you," Finnick desperately said.

"So what Finnick? You're willing to lose me, to have whoever the fuck you're talking about, kill me in that arena just to protect them? For the last nine years you always told me you would protect me and I believed you," Willa exclaimed, refusing to let her tears fall. Finnick didn't see the 22-year-old victor from District 2. She saw the scared 13-year-old who somehow got out of the arena alive. The 13-year-old who was disgusted with what she did. The 13-year-old he swore to protect from the Capitol to the best of his abilities.

Finnick's heart twisted as he watched her, the fire in her words cutting deep because he knew every ounce of anger came from a place of hurt—a hurt he'd never wanted her to feel. She stood there, her face drawn in pain and fury, but all he could see was the young, frightened girl he'd once comforted, the girl he'd promised to keep safe from this world of betrayal. But there he was betraying her.

"I was going to make them promise not to kill you," Willa whispered.

"Willa," Finnick said, desperation heard in the singular word.

"I can't promise that anymore," her voice laced with venom. If he was going to hurt her, keep her in the dark, be willing to put her in danger, then she would put him in danger. She would never hurt him herself no matter how much pain he caused her, but her allies? Good fucking luck.