Chapter Text
Finnick Odair had kissed Annie Cresta, and he regretted it.
He didn’t regret it at first. At first, that kiss was the star that his world revolved around. He used it to measure the minutes, the hours, and the days that had passed since he last saw her. It was the first thing that woke him in the morning and the last thought on his mind at night. It was the light that guided him through the day, making his life a little brighter, a little warmer, and a little more worth living. He didn’t regret it at first. He only regretted the kiss the moment his lips touched someone else.
President Snow had wasted no time in shipping him off to some wealthy sponsor as soon as Finnick arrived in the Capitol for the 71st Hunger Games. He slipped back into the part easily enough. It was business as usual, dressing up, meeting his client at the appointed location, coaxing secrets out of her to get some payment of his own. But one kiss was enough to trip him up, to shake loose the mask that he had put on to play the part of Finnick Odair.
It was nothing like that quiet kiss shared on the ocean shore. His client practically tore the kiss away from him, taking it from him like she deserved it – like she owned him. And for tonight, maybe she did. If Annie’s kiss had been the stars, now Finnick was crashing back down to the ground. Reality hit him with such force that it knocked the breath out of his lungs. What was he doing? What was he thinking, trying to trap the stars and pull them down to earth with him?
“Finnick?”
His client was staring up at him, a look of irritated disappointment on her face.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said quickly. “No – nothing’s wrong. Just…”
He stared at her lips. What was her name? He was kissing her and couldn’t even remember her name.
“Finnick?”
There was anger beneath the simpering playfulness of her voice. Finnick forced a smile onto his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just a little out of practice.”
She laughed and grabbed at Finnick’s collar, dragging him back towards her for another kiss. It must have been just as disappointing as the first, because she was still laughing at him as she pulled away.
“You really are out of practice.” she told him. “Maybe you need to move back to the Capitol, instead of wasting all your time in the districts.”
“Well, if I stuck around here all the time, you might get tired of me.”
His client sighed, but she didn’t deny it. “Still,” she said. “I’m surprised you can bear to stay there in the districts at all. It must be dreadfully boring.”
Finnick thought of the sun in his eyes and the wind on his face as his boat glided across the sea. He thought of the music in the district, of dances with Annie and the light in her eyes. He thought of bar fights and wild laughter, walking back home together covered in mud, and their dog chasing after seagulls on the beach. He thought of dinners at Mags’ house and sunsets over the ocean, and before he could help it, he was thinking of the kiss again, that last perfect moment he and Annie had shared on the shores of District 4…
Finnick felt sick as he looked down at his client, and the grin shook on his face. “Couldn’t possibly compare to this.” he told her. Then he leaned in to kiss her again and shut her up, burying all of his memories of home in this mind-numbing pain.
When Finnick arrived back at the apartment the next morning, Bay, the other District 4 mentor, was waiting for him in the living room. He looked up from his book, a characteristic look of concern crossing over his face as he watched Finnick walk inside.
“’Morning.” murmured Finnick. He glanced around the apartment. “Where are the tributes?”
“Down in the training center.” said Bay. “They’ve been there for a couple hours already – it’s almost noon.”
Finnick found the clock on the wall. Bay was right. The morning was almost gone already. “Right.” he nodded. “I’m going to go take a nap.”
“You don’t want anything to eat?”
Finnick shook his head.
“I can get something for you from the kitchen, if you want.”
He just shook his head again and tried to keep on walking towards his bedroom.
“Finnick?”
“Yeah?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” said Finnick. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” He waved vaguely towards the hallway. “I just need to sleep.”
Bay looked closely at Finnick, and the worry didn’t leave his eyes. It never did. “Do you want to call Annie?” he asked. “She and Mags are probably at the house today, I’m sure we could call –”
“You know I can’t do that.” Finnick said sharply. “Snow is monitoring all of these phones. I can’t just call her. Do you have any idea what that would look like?”
It would look like Annie really meant something to him. It would look like the truth.
“Finnick –”
“No.” Finnick said. His voice was determined, even if it was still shaking. “She’s not here, Bay. It’s no use trying to pretend she is. Just leave her alone.”
He turned around and walked down the hallway without another word. He could hear Bay calling after him as he left, but he didn’t look back. Finnick shut his bedroom door and he blinked the tears out of his eyes, running a hand over the shell that hung around his neck.
To remember home, when you’re away… Annie had told him, pressing the necklace into his hand. You need to remember the little things. You need to remember that life can still be good.
But he could hardly think of Annie’s kiss before other ones were poisoning it, desperate, feverish kisses stolen from him by his clients in the Capitol.
Even if he hadn’t thought that the calls were being recorded, Finnick still wouldn’t have called her. It would be easier that way. It was easier not to draw it out, it was easier to leave all those memories in the past where they belonged. He couldn’t keep reaching back to District 4 when he had a job to do here in the Capitol.
He didn’t want to live like this. If he could’ve had things his way, Finnick would have spent the rest of his life kissing no one else but Annie. She deserved that much, at least. She deserved someone who could love her with every piece of himself, someone who could stay by her side and never leave her alone. Finnick could never be that to her. He should have realized that a long time ago, when he first discovered just how much she meant to him.
What had he been thinking, kissing Annie Cresta?
Finnick pulled the necklace off, throwing it into the drawer beside his bed and slamming it shut before the stinging guilt in his chest could make him regret it. As much as he missed it, he didn’t belong in District 4. Even if he had been raised there, even if the ocean was in his blood and the sea was in his eyes, he didn’t belong there anymore. He belonged to the Capitol now. He had belonged to the Capitol for four long years and Annie belonged to an entirely different world. Today’s client had been enough to remind him of that.
But that was only the first client.
There were many more after that, an endless list of addresses and names that all blurred together as Finnick was dragged from party to party and bedroom to bedroom. He kissed a half a dozen new girls just that week, and even more after that, until he could hardly remember what it had felt like to have Annie’s lips on his.
To the delight of the Capitol, his tribute died immediately. It didn’t matter that he had made an alliance with the Careers, or that he had scored a nine in training, or that he had plenty of sponsors. All that had mattered was the moment that he had let his guard down in the middle of the cornucopia, and in seventy-three seconds, another one of Finnick’s tributes was lying dead in the arena.
But the Capitol was delighted. Without any tribute to mentor, Finnick Odair was trapped in the Capitol with nothing else to keep him busy but accept the endless invitations to parties and take client after client that the president sent him to. Snow seemed to be making up for all the time Finnick had spent in District 4 since the last games, taking advantage of every spare moment he had in the Capitol. Finnick woke up each morning with some new stranger, his mind full of nightmares and clawing hands and the half-drunk secrets they had shared the night before. He spent his evenings standing around at parties, hanging off the arm of some rich sponsor, his silk shirts half-open and golden chains around his neck. He drank and talked and laughed along with all the rest of the obnoxious Capitol citizens, as highlights of Hunger Games played in the background.
“I can’t imagine they’ll last more than another week,” Marcus Livesdale said, taking another sip of his drink. “Now that there’s only – what, six or seven tributes left?”
“Six.” said Finnick. “The boy from 1 was killed this morning.”
Julius Belcourt shook his head. “Such a shame.” he said. “I had a lot of money on him. I really thought he was going to win it all.”
“Been having bad luck for a while now, haven’t you, Julius?” Marcus laughed. “I can’t remember the last time you bet on the winning tribute.”
“And you have? At least I’ve got the money to spare. You’ll go broke spending all of yours on parties like this.”
“Don’t make me regret inviting you.” said Marcus, but both men laughed good-naturedly, and Julius turned to Finnick.
“You know something about the games, Odair.” he said. “Who do you think is going to win?”
Finnick glanced up at the screens overhead. They kept the games broadcasting throughout the party, so as not to miss any new action that might happen overnight. “Well, it’s hard to tell at this point, especially with an arena like this –”
“You can’t ask him, Julius!” Gaia Everheart protested. “He’s biased. There’s still a tribute from District 4 in the games.”
“But it’s not his tribute.”
“He could still be biased. He’s from the districts, after all.”
“Oh please, Gaia, he’s more Capitol than district these days.” Julius pulled Finnick closer. “Now, Odair, who do you think is going to win?”
Finnick took the drink that Julius pushed into his hands and looked back up at the screens. “Well,” he said. “The tributes from 2 are always a good bet. They’ve had more victors than any other district. But like I said, it’s hard to know for sure. The terrain makes it easy to ambush the other tributes. You don’t have to be the strongest to win this year, not if you’ve got the element of surprise.”
Marcus nodded. “If you ask me,” he said. “My money is on the girl from 7.”
“The girl from 7?” Julius repeated, incredulous. “This is why we aren’t asking you, Marcus.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“What’s not wrong? She’s spent the whole game hiding from the other tributes. We’ve hardly seen her at all. You can’t possibly think she has a chance.”
“You heard what he just said –” Marcus waved at Finnick. “She doesn’t need strength to win it.”
“Maybe not, but she needs some sort of skill, and I’m afraid she’s got none.”
Marcus spluttered in disagreement, but no one was taking him seriously. “Oh please,” said Gaia. “We all know it wasn’t her skills in the arena that caught his eye.”
There was another round of laughs and Finnick could hardly keep the smile plastered on his face. He took a sip of his drink to hide it.
“She should have been out days ago.” said Julius. “I’m surprised she’s still in it at all.”
Gaia leaned in confidentially. “I heard,” she said, lowering her voice. “That she cried all through the training week – and even at her private session with the gamemakers!”
“She was almost crying in her interview too. You saw that didn’t you?”
Finnick’s hand clenched tighter around his wine glass as they laughed. Would they find it so funny if they were facing a gruesome death in the arena too?
“Never had a shot at winning this.” said Julius. “She’ll be out in a day or two, I guarantee it.” He shook his head and turned back to Finnick. “So that’s it, Odair? Everyone knows they raise victors in 2. I thought you might have had something more to say.”
“Well, I would say that the district 4 tribute has good odds,” Finnick flashed a smile at Gaia. “But you would just call me biased.”
“Two district 4 victors in two years.” Julius mused. “That would be something, wouldn’t it?” he chuckled. “Although, I suppose your last victor just won on a technicality. Guess it pays to know how to swim, doesn’t it?”
Finnick stiffened at the mention of Annie and the smile froze on his face.
“I can’t believe you finally had a victor, and you didn’t even get to go on tour!” said Gaia, and she looked genuinely distraught at the thought of her missed opportunity to see Finnick on TV. “This winter was terribly dull.”
“Not a surprise they canceled it, though,” Marcus said. “Considering the way your tribute was…” He tapped the side of his head. “Is she still just as crazy as she was in her games?”
Finnick went to take another sip of his drink, but his glass was already empty. He looked back up at the others and tried to shrug it off. “She’s just a neighbor,” he told them. “I wouldn’t know.”
Gaia sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s for the best.” she said. “Who knows, if you spent too much time around her, you might go mad yourself!”
Finnick just forced a grin onto his face as they all laughed again. Without thinking, his hand moved to touch the shell at his neck. But it wasn’t there. It was still locked away in his drawer back at the apartment, and all that he found was the cold golden chain that he had put in its place. He straightened up, pushing away all the memories of District 4 and turned back to join the others, watching the games and laughing at the tributes as they fought desperately to survive.