ODDS

steps

𝓘 𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓲𝓷 bed, more awake than I had ever been. The thoughts that plagued my mind were all worse than the last. I needed sleep. The arena would cut me no slack, despite the exhaustion that seemed to take over my body. I could be delusional and half-asleep, and I would still be forced to be a piece in their games. The games didn't play to fairness.

Regardless of the need for sleep, I knew it wasn't forthcoming. Not now, anyway. There was too much going on in my mind. Knowing that sleep would not be welcoming anytime soon, I got up and trudged to the living area. Maybe watching over the streets of the Capitol would calm my mind enough to sleep.

When I turned the corner, I realized someone had beaten me to the edge of the window. He sat there, his clothes disheveled and hair messed up, overlooking the bright city below. He almost looked peaceful. I much preferred the calm look in his figure than the stressed, not-quite-sane feel.

I slowly glided over, careful to not make a sound, so as to not disturb the peace. He didn't move at my sudden presence. I thought at first that he didn't see me.

"Can't sleep?" Finnick asked, his eyes never leaving the colorful array of lights below. I stayed silent for a while, studying the scene he had been staring at.

"Too many thoughts." I answered.

He looked over at me at my answer. His head tilted a bit to the side, as if he were studying me. As if he were trying to figure me out.

"Yeah." he replied finally, turning his head back to its original position.

We stayed there, not talking, not moving. There was nothing to say. All we could think to do was to be in the moment, where impending doom might not have taken a hold on us. All moments have an ending, however, and we knew that we were only stalling. A fight had to be fought, regardless of whether it was right or not.

"I hope you make it." there was a twinge of sadness in his voice, as if he had not meant to feel the way he did. I couldn't have blamed him even if I had wanted to. After dealing with this kind of thing once already, watching kids he had grown attached to die gruesome deaths. Being forced to watch it all happen, one moment after the other. No, I couldn't blame him.

"Thanks." I had no other words.

Silence overtook us again, but I could tell Finnick desperately wanted it to end. I could tell he didn't like moments like this, times where reality snuck up on you and was waiting on you to open the door, only to take you captive when you finally did.

"How old are you?" I asked. I could tell by the look on his face that he was confused, and mildly shocked, at my question. This made a small smile creep to my face.

He blinked and furrowed his brows. "I'll be seventeen in two weeks." He answered. I nodded, peering out of the window.

"What about you?" He knew what I was doing now, and he seemed grateful for it. I smiled, feeling accomplished for easing his broken mind.

"Fifteen. My birthday is in June."

"My mom's birthday was in June." He answered, the despair creeping its way back into his features.

"Well, duh. All the best people have June birthdays." I said, a matter-of-fact tone taking over my voice. Finnick laughed at this, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Of course." He agreed.

We grew quiet for what seemed the millionth time that night, but this time, it was accompanied by a peace only good friends experienced. I smiled at the thought, the thought of Finnick being my friend. If this was my last night alive, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.