important: this story was written before the release of Mockingjay and can now be considered as AU. I would like it if you read it anyway!

series of drabbles, in chronological order, describing the relationship of my favourite couple.

title from george orwell's '1984'

The promised they'd be best of friends from now until forever,
But both were far too needy not to fall for the other.

- Los Campesinos! A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte

The first time he meets Annie Cresta she's seven and he's nine and she's swimming, her stroke's so precise and professional she looks so much older than seven. Her hair is cropped short and as she resurfaces she brushes it back from her face. She turns around and sees him watching.

"What are you doing?" She asks him, treading water. He dips his feet in. For some reason he feels defensive.

"Nothing. What are you doing?" He shoots back. This is a stupid question because it's quite obvious what she's doing. She clearly knows this, because when she answers, she speaks down to him, as if he weren't very intelligent.

"I'm swimming. Duh."

He rolls his eyes and tries to backtrack. "I know that. But why are you swimming? It's late."

"The sun hasn't even set yet!"

That's true, but it's in the process of doing so. The different colours bounce off the water and her wet hair. His favourite time to swim is sunset because he feels as if he's swimming in the sun.

He decides to switch gears. "You're a really good swimmer," he tells her. She shrugs, her shoulders briefly rising above the water before disappearing again.

"Everyone here is a good swimmer," she says, but this isn't necessarily true. He's sure there are some exceptions to this rule. He just can't think of any right now.

"How old are you anyway?" She asks suddenly.

"I'm nine. How old are you?"

Instead of answering, she asks another question. "What's your name?"

He scowls. He doesn't like all these question.

"Finnick Odair. What's your name?" He asks, not sure whether she'll even answer. She does, answering his other question along with it.

"Annie Cresta. I'm seven."

Raised with good manners, Finnick sticks his hand out. Annie swims over and shakes his hand. Then, with a wide smirk, she pulls him in with her.

He comes up spitting water out of his mouth. She laughs.

"I guess I was wrong. Not everybody here is a good swimmer."

"I am so a good swimmer!" He objects.

"Yeah? Prove it. I'll race you."

He looks around him. "To where?"

Annie grins. "Go!" Then she bounds off away from him. He watches her for only a second before he swims after her.

Annie insists that she won. Finnick argues that it doesn't count, because he didn't know where the finish was, and if he had, he would have clearly beaten her.

Since neither of them can agree, they decide to meet again tomorrow.