Inhale

We didn't speak for over a week. I'd pressed for more information, trying to swallow back the anger and betrayal crashing through me in waves. He would have kept it all from me; his own intentions of entering that arena. He wouldn't have told me anything.

A real conspiracy. A real plan to cause a rebellion, an uprising. Why had he kept that from me? My own brother had died for the same cause.

His argument to that had been how naive my brother was, how reckless their meetings and their plans. This was Panem wide, this had a real chance, a shot. I almost hated that what he was saying made sense, although so many details were left clouded in mist.

It was the first time I could recall ever losing my temper with him, feeling that anger boil over into shouting. When I stormed home I was glad he didn't follow me. As much as the idea of a real uprising excited me over the growing days I was hurt, and more importantly I was scared. We could end up exactly how Luka had. Our families and others would suffer.

By the end of our period of silence I'd realised a hard truth. It was worth it, worth dying for; worth trying. If Katniss Everdeen had to make it out of the arena for our country to survive, to end the terror of Snow it would be worth dying for. I just couldn't stand the thought of Finnick meeting the same fate.

I went over to Finnick's that night, and slowly as the tension passed and all talk of rebellion stopped we returned to our new tiresome routine.

Although I was unsure how a distant cousin had come across a sling-shot I was thankful for it when my aim improved and I was managing to provide us with the occasional poultry dinner.
I was still counting down the days and we were into the last fortnight. I felt less nervous, maybe it was because I had worried so long it didn’t feel real, like we were doing all this work and that was that.

It was the end goal I ignored. Tried desperately to rake from my mind.

I had tried to bring up his outrageous scheme more than once but I was under the impression that it simply wasn't safe to talk. I was certain now that my house was bugged, and for a week afterwards I was convinced that we would have been heard upon his original revelation and each time I heard a distant noise it was peacekeepers, marching to kill us, tear us to the Capitol and perform the horrible tortures I had heard rumours of. I was jumpy and barely slept, slowly that fear had ebbed away. Or perhaps it had simply joined the ball of nervous energy permanently knotting my stomach.

"I'd always wondered what it was like to be a true Career." Finnick said grimly, rubbing lotion into a large graze on his shin. I shot him a guilty smile as I bent over my stove, checking the roasting seagull again. "Is Mags due over?"

“Andromeda is having her, she offered earlier.” He explained; that had all been dealt with as well. I’d gone over to Andromeda's house; feeling bad I had left it so long and telling her about my intentions. She burst into relieved tears, hugging me so tightly I feared I’d break a rib. Her family was forever in my debt she told me between sobs.

Finnick may not have believed she would have done the same in the opposite situation but I didn’t care. For that day I felt like it was totally worth it all.

“That’s nice of her.” I commented, taking a step back from the oven and fanning myself. It was particularly hot, summer came fast and lasted long so it had been sweltering. I liked that about the basement where we trained with our weapons, it was always a good few degrees cooler than above ground. More importantly it was hidden from the still high number of peacekeepers that patrolled particularly close to our homes.

“I can’t stay too late.” I told him suddenly, boiling the vegetables, “Thom got here earlier and I still haven’t seen him.”

We seemed to all be ignoring the obvious, viewing it as a pleasant, typical family visit. Not my last few days with them all before I was possibly gone forever. Possibly wasn’t the right chance, there was one winner and I already knew who it had to be. Katniss Everdeen had to leave the arena, and she would have to do it alive. Best case scenario she would somehow be escaping to District Thirteen, still a somewhat laughable thought.

A shiver ran through me and a poisonous thought sunk into my mind.

Surely a rebellion could be encouraged without her? It didn’t have to be her, if anyone saw the same aim they could be that person; that leader. Someone like Johanna would be the perfect person to lead a revolt. Peeta even, he was the one who had kept them alive since their stunt with the berries, watching interviews that was clear. In fact, before that, Peeta had played his feelings out in his first meeting with Ceaser, had made Katniss seemed likeable, his emotions had caused Haymitch to think up his ‘brilliant’ scheme to get the tributes to team up, to start what had originally been a lie about two winners.

I was guilty there though, I had let myself be talked into persuading Seneca. If one of them had just died, if Katniss or Cato had come out alone none of this would be happening. My brother would be alive; I wouldn’t be preparing to go back into the Games.

We would still be sending children off to die, ruled under Snows oppressive thumb. This way was better, I told myself that several times a day to make it ring true. Besides, it was too late now; we had no option but to try. We would have to try and keep Katniss alive, to get on her side, to ally with her.

I glanced back at Finnick quickly, still tending to his leg. Katniss was one thing. I would do anything and everything to keep Finnick alive. I couldn’t bear the thought; couldn’t stand it on my conscience.

Rita was right when she said I was selfish.

“You haven’t spaced out like that for a while.” I blinked back and spun, shrugging as I realised but not as embarassee as normal. “Normally too tired or busy I guess.”

“It feels weirdly good, doesn’t it? To be doing something?” I reminded him with more force than necessary what we were preparing for, ending with my usual apology that he just didn’t seem to hear anymore. He stood, could he really expect, when it came to it, for me to allow someone to kill him?

I’d try and kill her before I let that happen, just out of instinct, loyalty.

That was how it would appear, he was my closest friend, my ally. My own mentor who had guided me, as little as I had followed his advice in the end, and kept me alive. The Capitol loved relationships like that. That was how it would appear if I was careful, but that wasn’t the whole truth, I knew that.

He was my closest friend and more. Not at first, I’d barely liked him when I’d first really been in his presence. Thom hadn’t been a fan at school since the two had attended at the same time. Finnick was twenty and already he had the reputation he still held; at that point I didn’t know the truth of it. I was saw him how he must come across to other Districts, to people less in the know – some pretty boy who was far too easy to get. I’d assumed he’d be arrogant, vain, unlikeable.

Now I was so very glad to have been proven wrong.

And I was all but in love with him. That was the sickening, sad truth of it. Seneca had numbed that I knew; had been a distraction that at points, more than I would admit, I wanted and enjoyed. It felt traitorous to admit that. Not love, not anything close, but I had liked Seneca Crane, there had been emotions there. It was nothing compared to how Finnick made me feel, and now with time running out the fire that flourished my skin whenever he touched me grew hotter. He had always been touchy, little motions that him likely meant nothing set me aflame. I tried to push the thoughts down, the emotions away, I prayed they were hidden well enough. They were unfair and they were making nothing easier.

The feelings had been there for a long time. Now they were just bursting to the forefront at what was really the worst possible time. Leading up to our imminent deaths.

I still felt sickeningly comforted sometimes that he was going in there with me. I was a mass of contradictions.

“Smells good.” I bit my lip, trying to stay in the present, to not let my thoughts pull me in deeply as they used to.

“Gotta have a talent.” I warped my voice into one similar to the Capitol's high pitched curl, wincing at it afterwards as he chuckled, limping over and resting his chin on my shoulder, his fingers oh so lightly resting over my hip bones. I wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to slide them downwards but I broke it, stepping aside to grab some herbs and offering him a hopefully charming smile that probably came across as pained.

He didn’t seem to get the point, leaning as close to me as possible on the counter as he hopped up smoothly, popping some ridiculously expensive sweets into his mouth.

I didn’t know if he knew how he made me feel. Sometimes I felt like he was playing it up, seeing how far and uncomfortable he could make me just for his own entertainment. But that was cruel, completely unlike him. In between training I still cherished moments of normality, when we could just joke, when the lingering threat of the Quell could be ignored. Was the touching increasing in volume as I'd been thinking or was I just picking up on everything more now?

“These are good, want one?” I pulled a face, but nodded and held out my hand. He ignored it, leaning in a little and pressing the sweet past my slightly open lips, the citrus flavour burst instantly, as did the colour on my cheeks.

He was definitely teasing me and I was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

I pretended to check the bird, allowing my hair to fall in that comfortable curtain over my face and hide me from those probing eyes. I swallow before I talk, “Quit being annoying and sit back down, it’s nearly done.” He popped his lips but did as I said, fiddling with the cutlery. He started the familiar talk of the next day, what we should do, what we should approach.

“We’ll only do a couple of hours anyway; you’ll want to see Thom.”

“We can sort out fitting it all in.” I promised, Finnick had become my daily routine.

“It’s still a shame we can’t get our hands on a bow and some arrows.” He complained this had become a common gripe. We couldn’t simply go around asking; by all accounts, even with how obvious it must be, we weren’t allowed to be practising or training for the games.

“Either way, you don’t have enough time to get up to her standard. I have to guess from last year that they’re what she will go for.” I started placing the food onto the dishes, “And she’s lethal with it no doubt.”

“Looks like it.” He was still so un-bothered as if his upcoming death didn’t freak him out. I wish I could cling to that speck of hope that he had, his idea that everything would work out.

He was far braver than me, every night it still came, a tingle would start at the bottom of my spine as I tried not to imagine it, not the pain, that was irrelevant, but the nothingness, the eternal darkness. No thoughts, no nothing. The tingle would always turn into a shiver, climb up my back and coat me until I would have to tell myself to stop thinking, to try and bring anything else into my the forefront of my mind.

A lot of the time I would have to get up for a couple of minutes, distract myself before I could even debate trying to sleep again. Not even the exhaustion could save me now.

It still happened when he was there, but to less of a degree. Feeling him beside me, or even the dip in the mattress when he lay on the other end of the bed was enough to make me stop the feeling from hitting me hard. It was almost every night that we slept together now; an unspoken agreement that I felt I benefited far greater from. I was clinging to him, he was my rock and I was some pathetic little limpet. I didn’t like thinking like that, and I knew he would detest the words but the thoughts plagued me often.

I let him chatter on through dinner, although the topics switched often they barely touched on the future or anything serious. My own food remained little touched and he lifted a brow but made no comment when I declared myself done and scraped the leftovers into the bin. I sat, sipping water until he was finished and let him go to walk me out. I tugged on my trainers, sat on the bottom of his steps; we were still in training gear and my forehead still felt tight with dried sweat.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.” I assured him, slipping my laces down either side of the shoe, “Alright, don’t put yourself out though. Spend time with your brother.” I nodded, not ruining the illusion he was trying to put across. He’d spend the day with Mags to avoid feeling lonely, I knew that sense of isolation got to him sometimes. His sister was trying to pretend it all wasn't happening and didn't seem to have any immediate plans to visit. They weren't close, Finnick believed that she blamed him for their parents' death, even if she didn't know the circumstances. I'd met her once, she was as eye-catching as her sibling but with none of his warmth.

“Right, well,” I stood, somehow catching my foot on the step, slipping but managing not to hit the ground, thanks in a large part to his quick reflexes. “Sorry. I honestly think this amount of exercise is killing me.” He laughed, although his hands didn’t move, one still digging into my hip the other on my shoulder.

I’m oblivious as to who makes the first move but seconds later our lips are connected and I’m kissing him with as much fervour as he is me.