ODDS

ᴛᴏᴏ

𝓘 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 it to my room before my lunch painted the floors with its putrid smell. Freya immediately began hollering for the Avoxes to help, and Zane had disappeared, just as he always had with vomit. Tired, Finnick wordlessly began to help the Avoxes, grabbing a mop from one of their hands.

Mags was the one to lead me to my room.

It was just as I had remembered, despite it being a completely different room. In fact, the Tribute's Center had been completely relocated due to this being a Quarter Quell.

The foamy grey walls were a welcoming sight, even as I continued to empty my stomach into the luxury toilet. They reminded me of District Four in the winter.

Mags gently moved her hand back and forth across my back, humming a quiet tune, as she always did. I was grateful, and reminded myself to thank her later, when everything was taken care of. I had to thank Mags for a lot of things before I died.

And there it was.

The thought that I had pushed away so forcefully, ramming down the walls of my subconscious, taunting me with its deep red lips. Tears pooled at the edge of my eyes and I finally let my emotions run rampant.

I howled, the sound bouncing off of the white tiled floors. My body shook with a fervor I hadn't experienced since my last games. I shook and I cried and I choked.

Mags only shushed me, taking me into her arms and stroking my tear stained cheeks with her bony fingers. We rocked to the rhythm of her breaths, but my own breaths became shallow.

"I can't, Mags- it's- it's- I'm not-"

The bathroom began to spin in a terrifying fashion, speeding up by the second. I tried focusing on my heartbeat, but it's erratic nature only worsened my fears. I was out of control and there was no stopping my train wreck.

I felt the shaky, soft hands of Mags leave me as my vision became bright and fuzzy. I only saw shapes as my body began to seize on the cool tile. Down I fell, deeper into the darkness. I felt myself vomit once more, and tasted the sharpness of the acidity.

I was gone for good.

Maybe it was better this way. Facing the arena for a millionth time, let alone actually being a contender, was too much. My body, my mind, couldn't handle the stress at any capacity. So even if this was a sort of dramatic way to go, at least it wouldn't be on Snow's terms. I called the shots.

Despite my erratic episode of a state, I felt two large hands pull me into a broad chest. I felt the tempo of their heart at the base of my ear, and a rumbling that must have been words.

I only heard the roar.

I didn't know how long we had sat on the bathroom floor, but it was long enough for my legs to begin cramping. My breaths, although still shaky, were calmer and controlled. My body still shook, but it felt more like a shiver than a full on seizing, tensing of the muscles.

And I felt his body engulf my own. His sweet smelling skin pressed tightly against my own, despite being crumpled on the floor. His lips were embedded in my hair, singing an old lullaby every child in District Four had learned from the fishermen at the docks.

It was like my veil had gone up again, shielding me from the woes and trials I was about to face. He had that affect on me, and I was grateful.

He felt of home.

"I'm sorry." I whispered after awhile. My voice had been severely affected after the episode, and my throat felt raw and swollen.

"Don't." Finnick scolded. "Don't do that, Lana."

My breath hitched, as if threatening to throw itself into another fit. I didn't think that I could handle another one, so I let silence consume us once again.

Time always seemed against me. Against us. And in that moment, I allowed myself to sliver into a small figment of warped reality, where Finnick and I weren't two dead kids waiting to be taken to the slaughter house, hovering over each other and a pool of vomit in the bathroom.

I imagined a boy. Red-tinted hair like my father's. Eyes that matched Finnick's. A quiet persona and scholarly attitude like Caspian.

And a girl, just a few years younger than the boy. Deep golden hair that matched her father's. Eyes deep and brown which likened to the sand that always seemed to find its way between her toes. Silly and giggly.

And damn it, I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything else.

The boy and the girl.

Our boy.

Our girl.

And I thought of him, the boy who kept me alive when it mattered most. The boy who risked his reputation and, ultimately, his safety and well-being, to keep me away from the horrors he had to face on a daily basis. Even if his attempts were unsuccessful, I still held onto that freedom longer than most other victors. And that was no easy feat.

I peered up at him, tears still slipping out of my eyes every so often. I sniffed. I swallowed. My hand made its way to his face, hovering over a bruise which had begin showing through the fading makeup.

I'd always liked his natural skin. Without the makeup, he was real. He wasn't the Capitol's Golden Boy. He was my Finnick. The boy from District Four. Gently, I rubbed at his jaw, wiping a layer of makeup off one by one.

"Thank you, Finnick." The whisper was too quiet for any echo.

"I don't need a thank you. I'd do anything for you, Alana." His own fingers traced the outline of the bruise just below my eye, which I had gotten during a fishing trip only days ago with Caspian. "Even if it meant going through it all again, I'd never change anything that's happened, because if anything had been even a bit different, I might've never met you."

I let out a breath that I found I'd been holding. With difficulty, I swallowed, licking my lips in the process.

"Really?"

Without hesitation, he answered, "Really."

And I smiled.

Because even if it wasn't how it was supposed to go, if there even was such a concept, I admired his bravery in it all.

We were mere days away from dying, and he still had the courage to admit his thoughts and feelings and be honest in complete openness. My chest ached under the weight of it all.

Tragedy had its way with people like us. And yet, here we were, sharing a last bit of comfort with each other before we were thrown to the wolves for death.

So I smiled.

He noticed this and immediately, a smile of his own followed.

Because he knew it, too.