𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

TWENTY-NINE

xxix. Katniss Everdeen

Finnick couldn't breathe. Though, he didn't mind it much. A part of him wished he'd fallen unconscious, never to awake again. At least then he wouldn't have to witness the terror his world had fallen under.

He stared at the concrete ceiling. His eyes squinted slightly, as he imagined a blue sky full of clouds. The bright orange sun warming his cold skin, the smell of the ocean to comfort him.

Finnick had asked for more sleeping pills. As much as his body could handle, if only to let him sleep for just another minute. Every second he was conscious, another second he thought of her. He thought of every little thing about her. From the freckle on the tip of her nose to the light snort she'd let out if someone dared to speak of her lopsided shoulders. His mind tried to remember every single moment he had with her, as though it were grieving for her loss. In a way, Finnick was grieving.

It was painful. Especially since he had felt that he had just started to get better.

Maybe he could never get better. Maybe he was doomed to feel like nothing for all eternity. If that were so, he wished he would've asked for more sleeping pills once again.

Finnick couldn't decide whether he enjoyed the silence more or less than the company of those he loved. It was an odd thought, though, in truth, Finnick felt like nothing could ever go wrong when he was alone. In the silence, there was nothing to torment him, except himself. And he'd rather be tortured by himself than be tortured by the girl he loved.

He continued to stare at the ceiling, dreaming of what could've been as though that were the only way to stay sane while awake. Minutes began to feel like seconds after a while. And even longer after that, he was convinced he wasn't in District Thirteen, but in the warm sand beside the shore.

That is, until, a knock sounded at his door, breaking him from his trance.

Finnick sat up from his bed and looked at the door. He rubbed his eyes in attempts to rid them of the tiredness that blurred his vision.

"Come in," he called out, his voice coarse and quiet.

The door squeaked open, and in walked the burly man he'd known so well. His face seemed somewhat unfamiliar for a moment. It'd been so long since he'd seen it, he had to squint to make sure it was the right person and not a dream.

"Ace?" he mumbled, sitting up to put his hands on his legs. "What're you doing here?"

Ace sighed, closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry for not, yknow, visiting as much. I didn't forget about you or anything. It's all just been weird with these propos and—"

"It's alright Ace. I get it," Finnick reassured, getting lost in Ace's rambling. "Annie's been keeping me company for the lot of it."

Ace nodded before sitting on the chair beside the bed. "You look different. You've been eating?"