𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

THIRTY-FOUR

xxxiv. Stupid Parties

Finnick hated the noise. The loud chatter and laughter that surrounded him at almost every minute of every day had begun to make him go insane. In the quiet of his apartment, standing hundreds of feet above the busy streets below, he heard their mindless gossiping like whispers in his ears. Even in the isolation of his hospital room, he'd close his eyes and find himself back on that fated stage in front of animated creatures hollering his name along with perverse profanities at the top of their lungs.

In the midst of parties where silence was the loudest thing he could ever hear, he always searched for an escape. Possibly an empty room in the restricted areas of Snow's mansion, where the music was muffled and the voices unheard. Anywhere was better than where he always found himself to be, stuck inside a crowd of pining men and women.

The Victory parties following the games were always the worst. The guest list was always filled to the brim while the firework show lasted from midnight to dawn, deafening his ears to no return.

It was in the celebration of the 69th Hunger Games when Finnick found himself suffocating from the pungent aroma of women's perfume. Tucked away in a small corner of Snow's living room, a crowd of women – some were young while others were too old for comfort – surrounded him with predatory gazes and unattractive tight-lipped smiles. For a moment, they resembled the goblins he'd read about in his childhood, the same ones who hid under bridges and stole from adventurers who passed by.

Too overwhelmed by their high-pitched giggles, he muttered a small "Excuse me" as he stood up and pushed his way through them, not minding their quiet scoffs and whines. His eyes scanned the large masses of guests, all of which were dressed in atrocious shades of pink and yellow, searching for a special girl who he knew was hidden somewhere, drowning her sorrows away with a glass of champagne.

"Have you seen Aurora Evans?"

His voice echoed through the ears of various men and women who all replied with the same, uncaring shrug and shaking head.

Frustrated, he searched through every room in Snow's mansion, knowing all too well she wouldn't be found anywhere near the crowds. It wasn't until he reached the second floor had he found where she'd ran off to.

On the side of the mansion was a secluded balcony area that watched over the gardens and the crowds of visitors. And there, leaned against the railing, was none other than Aurora Evans, sipping away at her fizzy drink, her eyes lost in the night sky.

As Finnick closed the door behind him, Aurora's head frantically turned around, fearing to find anyone else. The look of panic washed away in an instant at the sight of her best friend.

"I thought you were someone else," she mumbled, taking another sip of her drink as Finnick walked over to stand beside her. "Don't know what I would've done if you were another old man with wandering hands."