1 - Uncharted Waters [Hunger Games]

7 - Beneath the Mask

Chapter 7

"Skinny Love" by Birdy

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Finnick never lost his composure. It was his trademark. Calm. Relaxed. Unflappable. For years, he'd worn that mask without fail. It had shielded him, kept him steady in the face of everything the Capitol had thrown at him. But today... today was different.

He couldn't shake the unease that had simmered beneath his skin since the encounter with that insufferable teenager, Destan. If he'd been his usual self, he would've laughed off the boy's arrogance, cracked a joke, and let it slide. But no. Instead, Finnick had allowed his temper to flare. He had almost let it escalate into something dangerous. For a brief moment, he'd felt his control slip—something he never allowed.

It wasn't the boy's challenge that unnerved him; it was the girl.

Mira.

She had stepped between him and Destan before things could spiral out of control, her small, delicate frame acting as a buffer. She had looked up at him with those piercing blue eyes—eyes that reminded him of the ocean on a calm day, vibrant and endless. And then she had placed her hand on his chest, gentle but firm, stopping him with a tenderness that cut through his anger like a blade.

He could almost feel the warmth of her hand still, as if it had burned through the layers he kept tightly bound around himself. Finnick's jaw clenched at the thought, a familiar ache settling in his chest.

He had to leave. The sooner, the better.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way. Not about her. Not when the odds were so cruelly stacked against her in that arena. Getting close to her only made things more complicated. She was a tribute, and he was her mentor—a bond forged in desperation and duty, not meant to transcend those boundaries. Yet deep down, he couldn't shake the bitter truth: in the end, she would almost certainly meet her fate. And he would be left with nothing but the hollow ache of what could never be.

But... what if they had met under different circumstances? What if there were no games, no bloodshed, no expectations? What if he didn't have to be Finnick Odair, the Capitol's darling, the boy who smiled in the face of terror? What if he could just be a man who let himself feel, without worrying about the consequences?

The people thought they knew him. The calm, charming victor. The handsome face they adored. But that was all a lie. He was a man built of shattered pieces, held together by the fame he hated. Behind the smile, he was afraid—of losing more people, of caring too much, of getting attached when he knew what the outcome would be.

And Mira—she was the one who could break him.

Who could have imagined that a single encounter with a girl he barely knew would change his life forever?

Yet, it shouldn't have surprised him. In that moment, she had been more than just a fleeting presence; she had been a savior. With her kind smile, innocent blue eyes, and simple yet profound words, she reached into the chaos of his own mind and pulled him back from the edge. He had been captivated, bound to a feeling he didn't fully understand but knew he couldn't ignore.

He realized then and there that he needed to find her again, though fate brought them together under circumstances neither could have foreseen.

The next time he saw her was during the reaping for the 65th Hunger Games. He stood on the stage, just 14 years old, defiance and dread battling within him as his eyes searched the sea of faces. And then, he found her—his Aquamarine—standing among the cluster of trembling 12-year-old girls.