unforgivable ➸ finnick odair

T H I R T Y S E V E N

"You're not going to jump, are you?"

She laughed and turned around, lips twitching into a fond smile as she tried to remember what she had said back to him, on the very same rooftop all those years ago.

"Even if I was going to, I wouldn't be able to, I'm guessing," Electra replied, grey eyes glittering.

Finnick grinned. It made his green eyes look even brighter, even as the world was engulfed in the folds of night. A cool breeze slithered against her skin, blowing a few strands of brown into her face and making his bronze-brown hair shift ever so slightly.

"So the Games are still going ahead," he said after a few beats of silence, moving to join her against the railing, looking out over the city. She nodded.

"Don't think anyone really expected otherwise," Electra murmured, shifting her hand closer to where his hand was, fingers curled around the cold metal. "Snow wants her dead, baby or no baby. This might be his only viable way of pulling that off."

"We won't let that happen though, will we?" His voice was light, but she looked up and met his gaze.

The moment Finnick had turned sixteen, Snow had auctioned him off the highest bidder, again and again for eight years. He probably would've done it even sooner - Capitol citizens had been salivating over their glorious fourteen-year-old champion even before his victory - but even corrupt presidents had to follow the law sometimes. Finnick played the part of a playboy with perfection, mask fitting his face like a second skin, until no one who didn't know the truth could suspect that he was anything more than a Capitol sellout.

Eight years. And Finnick had always been the most popular of the available victors. She wondered if people understood just how strong he was, to live a life that was not his own to fully dictate; to have Snow breathing down his neck, holding the lives of those he loved against him. To smile for the cameras even on the worst of days. Electra knew there was nothing he wouldn't do to make sure future generations of children weren't thrown into the arena to die or to live the rest of their lives like him.

He would die for the rebellion, for Katniss Everdeen. The thought made her heart skip a beat.

"We won't," she confirmed, pausing before throwing caution to the wind and laying her hand over his. He jolted and gave her a confused look, which quickly melted away into a cocky grin.

"Shut up," Electra huffed as he opened his mouth, swiftly cutting off whatever he was going to say. He just laughed, flipping his hand so that their fingers were entwined as he flung an arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed in the night air, staring up at the stars.

She wondered if they would be the same stars she saw in the arena. She wondered if she would die staring at those stars. It would not be the worst way to die. The stars had watched her enter this world, and they would watch her leave it. There was something oddly comforting about that idea.

"Your message thing was sweet today," she said, because tomorrow they would be sent to die in an arena with 22 other trained killers; this was not the time for secrets. This was not the time for regrets.

Finnick shifted his arm, and his grip on her hand tightened for a split second. "You think?" he asked, voice devoid of any inflection.

"Yeah," she murmured. "It was cute. The whole smile thing. Really romantic."

"Yours was pretty romantic too," he pointed out. "Stay safe. The absolute height of romance."

Electra let out a quiet chuckle. "Thanks, I think."

There was a long pause, as if he was trying to muster up the courage to say something.

"Why... why would they need to stay safe?" His tone was airy and casual, but his voice seemed to shake almost imperceptively. She swallowed, free hand tugging anxiously on the zipper of her jacket.