Recap: Linda, together with Johnny, Elizabeth, Danny and Finnick decided to hold a celebration for Annie's eighteenth birthday. Taking himself out of his miseries, Finnick also took his chance in asking Annie out for the Bonfire Haul. But not the ones to be bested, Johnny and David had surprises of their own when David struck up the courage to admit to Willard Cresta of his feelings for his daughter, all the while Johnny was hiding behind the Cresta's garden. At the night of the party, Willard revealed that Johnny intended to join the Haul, to everyone's astonishment.

Chapter 6:

I Crave Your Eyes, Your Mouth, Your Hair

(I Shivered in Those Solitude)

One can assume that people living near the shores were the ones most lucky. That instead of concrete and metal, District Four remained to be one of the areas in Panem not to be cluttered by tall and dreary government buildings. Though true that the town square billeted the Mayor's white stone house, its surrounding areas were extraordinarily made out of wood that were all washed out because of the heavy brine. Not to say that the District was ugly, but instead, District Four did posses a lot of character.

It started its day usually to the sounds of the gulls perched on the rocky basements on the far end of the West Beach, then to the warm sunshine coming from the East; then soon after, to the distant flapping of boat masts already preparing for hauls and fishes and nets.

These early morning preambles should have been familiar and welcoming and quite the contrast to the unknown waking hours of the other Districts farthest from Four where, perhaps, there was the constant sound of bombs blowing off for coals or of the dreadful cries of hungry children living on murky streets...

But despite this privilege of living in District Four, Johnny Pearson felt as if the West Beach coming to the sounds of life expediently came about to purposefully unnerve him. Because even if the sun was about to rise from its slumber and the shore was already wide awake and excited—with people chatting animatedly while sitting atop huge boulders or lying on the beach sand—Johnny realized that this was it, thinking he had bitten more than he can chew.

The moment of truth, he thought.

Taking a deep breath and finally slinging his rucksack on his shoulder, Johnny stared at the long stretch of the West Beach in front of him before continuing his journey towards Brueler's Dock and await his fate there.

(Laugh at the Night, at the Day, at the Moon)

Mostly everyone in the District had a reason to celebrate this particular day.

For Annie though, this day just marked another momentous—and speedily nearing—event headed their way. Despite her father's attempts and persuasion for her to simply ignore the annoyance, she just couldn't let it go.

"Why not think of Johnny?" shouted Willard from the living room downstairs. "Go out and wish him good luck."

Annie didn't respond and continued to stare at the continuous flow of people down the streets from her bedroom window. She just tugged the shawl she had wrapped around herself and thought that she never really said she wouldn't entirely consider attending. She knew all her friends would be there cheering on their respective boaters and she knew that she had to be there for Johnny, at least.

"It may not be as bad as you always think, sweetheart. You've survived the past 17 years." Willard continued. "What's another year?"

Annie didn't have the heart to contradict her father that she decided to not respond. Truly, it was what comes after the Haul that they should all be worried about, wasn't? In that idea of what will become of their District in the next coming days? The deserted streets, the children lining up in the Government school, and ironically, the few proud parents who purposely stroll in the town square just to brag about their kids' talents?

After a playful 'Suit yourself', and probably knowing he won't be able to budge her anyways, Annie heard her father rummage through the rest of his fishing equipment before finally exiting the house, catching his graying hair among the village folks on the street.

What were they all so excited about, anyway? There was nothing much to expect. It was always the same every year. The young men gather at the West Beach at dawn and then battle the vast sea for its abundant fish and whatnot. At the end of the day, it was not about the boat with the most haul that wins. It was all about their inflated male egos after the contest, trying to charm pretty little ladies with a drink or two during the Bonfire.

Ahh.

The Bonfire, of course.

Last week's events still haunted, more or less bothered, Annie up until now. She still couldn't believe what had happened on the night of her birthday.

There she was, not expecting anything at all since she was just eighteen and eighteen meant nothing, but then there were her friends—Linda, Johnny, Danny, Lizzie—who went to all troubles just to fix something up for her because damn, it was her birthday and they had to celebrate it. Then there was also Finnick, of course, who, for reasons unknown, asked her out to the Bonfire. She couldn't really blame the cup of wine she was holding at that time but she remembered how surprised and surreal it felt when she got back home and thought about that certain encounter; how easy, although not swiftly, was she able to say 'yes' to him as if it wasn't just weeks ago that they had exchanged heated words—she, accusing him of being a playboy of some sort, promising herself that she would never ever be friends with him again, and him, taunting her of being a prude.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Annie drifted her gaze back to the heavy street of the District. The people were dressed in probably one of their best outfits—girls in pretty dresses and colorful scarves, some men in snugly shirts and freshly pressed cargos. True, it could have been such a festivity if it weren't for the District guards who were wearing their plain white uniforms emblazoned with their thick leather belts, housing probably the worst weapons they had. Such big gatherings like the Bonfire Haul needed all the more security. The guards' presence just made things worse for Annie. How can the people celebrate if there were these guards ready to strike them at any moment, without mercy? As if reminding them that they weren't really at all free and that this day was just that one short reminder of the freedom they had lost in the Last War? The lost freedom they had to pay for all over again?

Like she said, and had thought about countless of times before, the Bonfire Haul was a mask—a disguise for all the terrible things that was about to happen in Panem. Of course Annie barely had the idea on how the other Districts prepare for the Games, but nonetheless, it was the same year after year. Twenty-three young people we're still going to die. There was no way out of that truth—even if you are that one young Victor, standing in front of a charming little house, wearing a gray linen shirt, and waving up at the lonesome girl viewing the streets from the second floor window.

Finnick Odair wasn't as free as everyone else might have thought in this District.

Laughing, he waved up at Annie and then ruffled his bronze hair. Annie couldn't help letting out a small laugh. It was weird seeing him on their street once again after all these years. He didn't exactly look out of place but he didn't look like he belonged there either. So what was he doing there? But then quite suddenly, a chilling thought occurred to her—of course he had to be there.

Because, as Annie finally started to realize, like it was just yesterday when Finnick's mother would reprimand him for always messing up his hair (Annie could still seem to hear the distant voice of Natalia Odair, hovering in the air like the softest melodies and then Finnick's boyish smirks just right after) or when Finnick and Dylan made all those loud noises (their footsteps on the wooden porch, the scrunching of the sand when they were in their backyard, then their silent breathings in the afternoon when they listen to their father, Frank, rave about his fishing techniques and haul that morning). And more importantly, as Annie gazed back to the still waiting and frowning Finnick, it actually felt like it was just yesterday that that certain victor had asked her out. And bless the seas, it was going to happen today—and about time that it finally sunk in.

She was going to spend the Bonfire Haul with him.

With him.

With Finnick.

It wasn't the hardest decision Annie had to make in her lifetime but she sure felt wobbly knowing that today was to be spent with Finnick Odair. Four years of repressed friendship and here they were, starting all over again.

Annie barely had a second to rethink that impossible thought when Finnick, who was still downstairs and waiting for her to respond, suddenly started making funny faces that brought a couple of smirks from the onlookers and teasing her, probably, of what she would be missing out from the Bonfire if she didn't join him. Finnick motioned for her to go down already and mouthed 'Come on'—Annie wasn't sure, really, but what else was there for him to say? And what else was there for her to do? She can't run away from this, can she? And not that she wanted to.

The crowd was already curiously looking at Finnick but nonetheless went on their way laughing; there was probably another time to ogle at the handsome victor, and probably, the Bonfire Haul was so much greater than him at the moment.

Sighing, and not being able to help a small smile, Annie decided—pretending like she hadn't for the last few days—and comforted herself in the thought that she was doing this because Finnick was making too much of a fool of himself already (with the kids playing along with him) as he pretended to do swim laps in the air, faked drowning, gesturing for Annie to come rescue him...

After a few laughs, admittedly it was easy, Annie found herself climbing down the rickety staircase in a hurry (in which she might probably never admit) and straightened her skirt in the process. She hesitated at first (she convinced herself of this but of course she actually didn't hesitate, not even for a single second), but then eventually pulled the door open.

"And we're saved kids." Finnick announced with a grin. He bowed down to the spectators as the children laughed and gave him a humble applause.

Then of course he was Finnick, and Finnick was impatient and excited and lovely and good. Maybe it was because of the crowded street or maybe because he just felt it necessary—easy and comfortable—that without any more preambles, without even considering the onlookers, without even considering her say on the matter, he took her hand—so carelessly, so confidently—and led the way.

In the fogginess of her mind, Annie wasn't really sure where this date was heading or if she was even able to lock the door. But as Finnick clasped her hand more tightly, she knew, any which way, there was no getting out of it.

A huge thunderstorm wouldn't even be able to ruin today's events—or so the notice on the town square said—as evidently, the annual Bonfire Haul will push-through despite a storm warning. Finnick thought of how could a storm be even possible on a day like this? Not when the sun shone so brightly and what with the wind carrying that fine and familiar tune of busy people on the docks—chatting, laughing—not caring about anything at all except for the festival.

So what storm, exactly?

Sure, he knew he did look foolish, perhaps, the moment he woke up; brushing his teeth quickly, throwing freshly laundered clothes on himself and then unabashedly went on his way to the West Village, whistling, to his great surprise. He bumped into Willard Cresta at the town square and had a short chit-chat with him, expecting to see Annie in his tow. When he didn't though, cutting his conversation with Willard short, he immediately proceeded to the West Village where, as Willard put it, she was there sulking.

Not anymore, Finnick hoped.

He was still grasping Annie's hand despite the crowd at the town square who, bless the seas, seemed to be overly invested with the booths and the entirety of the fair that none of them seemed to notice their intertwined fingers. Although it didn't come unnoticed to him that Annie hadn't even attempted to pull her hand yet...

"What are we going to do today?" she asked quietly, her hand in his ever so twitching slightly.

"What do you want to do?" Finnick replied, still denying her of the freedom.

"Aren't we supposed to head to the beach to support Johnny? I mean, that's what the festival is all about, you know."

"What? About Johnny?" Finnick chuckled. "I don't think so."

"Finnick." She rolled her eyes. "I meant the Haul."

Then there goes his senses. And heavens, he was expecting for that to happen a couple of times today—for her to render him speechless, for him to look like a fool. She was raising an eyebrow and he felt the need to laugh and respond once more. He stopped himself though, thinking that Annie wouldn't like being laughed at. Regardless, he couldn't even remember what he was about to reply. Finnick bit his tongue instead, like some sort of a reminder as well that he wasn't at all dreaming; that the hand he was holding was still Annie's. Who knew it could just be that easy? Who knew she was also just possibly waiting for him the same way he was just waiting for her all these years?

What a feeling. So this was how it felt to be in control. It was like a breath of fresh air; like that first and intense inhale after minutes of being under water. Finnick felt fantastic. He felt like a child, he felt so, so alive. He didn't care if the crowd would talk (as they eventually would); he didn't even bother to walk up and explain himself to David Gray, who, he assumed, was horribly angry with him at the moment because he was suddenly so honest, so blunt, so out there for Annie—proving finally that even his—David's—supposed fondness for her couldn't deter how he, Finnick, was now obviously on a winning streak.

What a fucking feeling.

So even if he was still trying to keep himself from chuckling at her ridiculous stare, Finnick couldn't all the more care that deep within his thoughts, somewhere his consciousness could not reach at this moment of delight, there were still a lot of things to be discussed, and in some terms, a lot of things to keep mum about. He had blissfully forgotten to care—to be cautious, to be subtle, to be inconspicuous. But later probably, when his euphoria had died down, he could—and he would—wake up to one morning regretting that today ever happened. However, at this moment, he didn't want to know and feel it. And for as long as his consciousness allowed him, his fears wouldn't be of case.

"Fine." He finally surrendered, exhaling deeply as if in disappointment—but of course he wasn't and never could be when it came to her. "We can head-out to the beach if you like. But on one condition, though."

She looked at him sternly again, albeit wondering. "Okay?"

"Do you trust me?"

She smiled, hesitant at first he noticed. But again, no matter...

"Yes, I trust you."

(Alone Under the Ground)

'Odd' possibly wasn't the worst word David could think of when he saw them at the town square. He was with his dad going through the crowd and into the docks when Finnick and Annie's appearance slightly caught him off-guard. A solid hit, truly. There immediately was the surge of jealousy in his chest but he tried to keep a calm composure. He wasn't going to lose it amidst the crowd of happy faces—including theirs—and most definitely not in front of his father. David knew for a fact too that Finnick saw him. The bastard even politely nodded all the while Annie was busy looking around the cheerfulness of the square. And just like how they appeared out of nowhere, completely alarming him, they also quickly disappeared into the crowd.

David didn't want to stoop down and give an extra effort to actually locate them. He was tempted to but he knew it was not worth it. He was confident enough to think that Annie wouldn't fall for the antics the Great Odair had saved for all the girls to swoon at, even if he couldn't deny the fact that if it wasn't for their childhood history, so to speak, he knew he could freely enjoy the festival as much as the rest were.

That was where one of his problems laid. There was a time in Annie Cresta's life that Finnick bared witness to and in which he—David—did not. Sure, all three of them lived in the West Village before Finnick's win, but the fact remains to him that Finnick and Annie were neighbours; that the Odairs and the Crestas were famously good friends and that the Grays was a quiet and simple family, far away from the social circles of the District. It wasn't until they started school when things started to turn around for him. He was finally being noticed—for his manners, his politeness, and yes, as most often said, his good looks. Despite this opportunity to meet people in school, David never really found that connection to anyone the way Finnick and Johnny had become best friends or what with Annie and Linda's closeness. He had a couple of buddies he once shared a laugh with but he never had the confidence to say he was able to share himself to them fully. During those times too, he still didn't see Annie that way. He was way too young to even bother. But as they grew up, slowly, people were becoming more observant the way he was also becoming more aware of his surroundings. He heard rumors, admiration, praises. Soon, he was being billed as the 'mysterious one' in contrast to Finnick's more outgoing persona. Even in the tender age of eleven, everyone was already making up stories of rifts between him and Finnick which were all untrue, of course.

Except the one now.

They were last seen heading towards the lighthouse, he heard someone say as he neared the beach—Danny or Johnny, he didn't know anymore. It was just unfair that Finnick was with Annie right now knowing that he had asked her first. School also seemed like a long time ago and it would soon seem like another lifetime once the Games starts in the next few weeks. Their fates will once again be in shambles and he didn't know when he'll be able to be with her.

His next quest though, David thought as he positioned himself on one of the huge boulders when he finally reached the beach, was to explain himself to Willard. It was embarrassing, every time he remembers what he had done, what he had confessed to the old man a few days back. It was even more embarrassing that he didn't show up at Annie's birthday that Willard had asked him about it, concerned.

"She was waiting for you, you know." Willard said the day after the party, during their early morning hauls. "...couldn't believe you have forgotten."

Of course he didn't forget. How could he forget? He already had flowers with him; he was on the Cross's backyard ready to plunge into a house party with guests he barely knew except for Annie. He was there. He was there but felt like he shouldn't be. Not after what he saw at the back porch, not after hearing Finnick and Annie's conversation that always drove him mad.

He was there but he choked.

It was a chilling thought that haunted him up until this morning. He could have stopped it too, he knew. But he was cowardly and was so damn affected he chickened out. It was a hard blow to his stomach and for a while there, during that night, as he hid behind the bushes, he didn't know if he could recover. So silently, after Finnick and Annie went back inside the house, he left. He left with all the dignity he could muster. He won't be rejected. No. Not like that.

So David wanted to let it pass. Give that round to the Great Odair. But seeing them again today, holding hands, was another low punch he had to take. And truthfully, he didn't know if he could take one more. Because between him and Finnick, he knew he had the upper hand for the longest time and he couldn't quite believe he let it all slip away between his fingers. He had the upper hand because he was the one who didn't need to leave District Four unlike Finnick who had Capitol responsibilities that took too much of his time. He also didn't need to prove his loyalty either because Annie was the only girl he ever had interest in—unlike some who had the whole country at the palm of their hands; girls baring their souls out, old women ogling, teenagers wanting to get a glimpse... Finnick can betray her. But David wouldn't. He cannot fathom doing it. But again despite this advantage, David knew there was still the saddest part about this whole debacle aside from him choking.

Because despite everything else, despite probably all his efforts, there was always this thought of Annie possibly not liking him back; possibly, she wasn't into him the way that he was so into her; because if she was, if there wasn't that slightest hesitation, she should be holding his hand and not Finnick's. She should have said yes to him when he asked her on that fateful day at the Government School. She should have said yes. But like an afternoon shadow that cast behind him, like the truth that forever haloed above his head, like it was the silliest, damnedest thing in the whole of Panem, she didn't.

She didn't say yes.

She didn't and that made his stomach churn for the hundredth time today.

She didn't say yes and he felt goddamned foolish at how much he wished she did.

(Speak of Dreams and Leaves)

Possibly because of his excitement and unexpected optimism, and for relatively quite sometime now too since they left the West Village, Finnick still hadn't thought of the slight gossip or murmurs the people of Four would say once they finally get to realize that he was on a date with Annie. But more importantly, because of this same excitement gobbling up his brain, he also wasn't able to plan the date thoroughly as he would like (he finally now realized). He was just going with his gut feeling because truthfully, he didn't know what to do. He didn't have any references. It was really his first date—a real and an uncomplicated date. Although leading Annie along the rocky valley towards the lighthouse was the complicated and comical part, realizing again that he had not been in this area of the district for so long now. For some instances, Annie had to point him into the right direction which ultimately (he believed) made his ears turn the color pink. But after a few more rocks thrown and a few shrubberies pushed away, they finally arrived unscathed on the graveled spot of the lighthouse—its five-story, rounded body towering him and Annie and overlooking the West Beach.

"So what do you think?" he turned and asked.

"Of the lighthouse?"

"Yeah, the lighthouse. Do you like it?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before." She shrugged back. "Why are we here?"

"I just wanted to see this place again."

Finnick took her hand once more and climbed up the staircase. When they finally landed on the top level, they went around the huge light right in the middle and then straight out into the terrace door—Finnick pushing it open and then it creaked slightly when he did.

"This is just astounding." said Finnick as Annie joined him, holding on to the railings.

The lighthouse overlooked almost the entire District when gone around it. Right in front of Finnick was the vast District Four sea decorated somewhat, there near the shores, with about ten boats with huge masts. The people were like tiny dots from where he and Annie stood and he never felt absolutely thrilled to be so far away.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Annie was now leaning on the railings, looking at the sea with distant eyes. She just shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. Great view."

"But?" he insisted, knowing that such an answer required probing.

Annie offered a small smile and looked at him thoughtfully. "It's just so lonely up here, don't you think?"

"It never really crossed my mind."

Which was the truth. Finnick took pleasure in this kind of silence, in this solidarity. He never had to deal with anyone on a place like this. He could submerge himself into the emptiness, or the fullness, of it and get no sympathy or provocation from the others. He was safe here.

"I guess it just seems so far away from them." Annie explained further, nodding towards the West Beach down below. "It's like you get to see life passing by and you're just stuck here, not being able to do anything."

Maybe it was the way they saw things now, Finnick thought. That for the past years, he and Annie were completely living different lives. Him, with a fast-paced one—going back and forth between the Capitol and Four, doing all his interviews, his trades, his supposed mentoring; all the while she, as she had put it bluntly, was stuck here, waiting for fate to finally interfere and bring about the change she perhaps desperately needed, or the peace he knew she longed for.

"So you've never visited here before?" Finnick asked.

"Not since we were little kids."

That was too long ago too, he thought. Little kids. He could barely remember that time.

"Do we often go here?" he asked again.

"What?"

"I mean, when we were a little kids, do we hang out here?"

Annie chuckled. "No."

"Oh, okay."

"I remember being here with my parents before." Annie shared. "And I clearly remember you were here with Dylan all the time."

"Really?"

"The number of times I heard you two squeal about it."

He looked at her, frowning, "Perhaps I just forgot. I mean, a lot of things had happened since we were kids—and I never squeal! Dylan might have..."

"True, that." Annie replied, again with a small laugh. But her expression changed once more as he watched her looking back into the sea. And quite suddenly, for the first time that day, Finnick believed, Annie had shifted something. Like what they were below, with the crowd, with the kiosks, with the entirety of the festivities, were just fragments of some illusion—like a life in another universe. And here, Finnick thought, she was sharing something with him. Something he cannot explain and yet he understood. Finnick hadn't realized he was gripping the railings too tightly that his knuckles turned white.

This was what solidarity made Annie—nostalgic, lonely, and honest.

She was now looking at him, studying him, waiting perhaps on when he was going to break because maybe she was beginning to. They only had the past to talk about, he told himself. But Finnick was urging himself not to break. Finnick thought that breaking was embarrassing, that a breakdown was not him. She was still staring at him and was still waiting; reaching out for him to finally say something.

"Finnick..." Annie whispered.

"My brother was special, wasn't he?" He finally blurted, not being able to help feeling the need to, not when she was completely disarming him with her stare. This was where it was going to head down to eventually, didn't it? To his worst fears? He started to speak, even if it wasn't his cup of tea—not in broad daylight at least.

"That look on his face whenever we have to help dad fish," Finnick continued, setting aside thoughts, setting aside inhibitions. "Or actually, even when you just come in for a visit. Dylan was a lot of things, I tell you. He was so full of energy and laughter. He was always hungry too but he never gains the extra weight."

Annie smiled.

Finnick willed himself to be honest because he wanted to be. His family deserved it too, he knew. For him to finally remember. Because by not telling, he felt like he was betraying them—betraying her. That maybe she knew he would speak of them soon enough because he hadn't spoken of them for so, so long remembering was becoming such a challenge; that hearing his brother's name was like scraping an old wound that refused to get healed.

"I mean, does that make sense?" he laughed bitterly.

"It doesn't have to." she whispered back.

"But it should. And it's unfair you know that while he gets to eat all of the good stuff, he doesn't become flabby. Unlike me, the moment I take a bite of a chocolate cake I have to exercise for who knows how long just so I wouldn't get reprimanded by my stylist."

Finnick knew he wasn't merely just talking about food now. He knew his thoughts were somewhere else already, his consciousness unable to barricade him from the worst memories he had kept so far at bay. Finally, and once again, he looked towards the brightening sea. Somewhere there he felt like he could picture his brother's young face—his green eyes that was so much like his, his toothy grin, the slight crinkle on the corner of his eyes when he laughed; Dylan seemed like he was just there—becoming like an epiphany of the life Finnick was forced to disregard, of the life he was trying so hard to recall.

"It's unfair too that he was so young." he finally whispered another truth, struggling to remember the mornings he woke up to the sound of his brother's noise, his father's chuckles, and his mom's sweet greetings. "He could have been so much more..."

"Finnick..." Annie placed a hand on his shoulder.

Finnick let out a laugh now. How his defenses easily collapsed just because she was there. There was not much greatness in him at the moment and he was ashamed. He was just Finnick now. Just Finnick. A cold trickle of embarrassment ran through him. This was not supposed to happen on a date, wasn't it? And he didn't want Annie to realize how much he depended on her for his miseries—the ones he kept under a facade he painstakingly made for himself so that no one would ever see that crumbling part of him. Not even her. But carrying that mask took out all of his energy—physically and emotionally—he didn't know how long he can cope with all the pretending.

Would she look at him differently if he finally gave it all up and showed her what was left of him?

"I'm sorry." he shook his head and glanced back towards her, gripping her hand in his again. "I shouldn't let myself get out of control like that. That was a long time ago."

"It's alright." Annie smiled, "It's more than alright actually, to feel vulnerable."

How it sounded accurately and comically true from the lips that tormented him so for years now.

"I didn't invite you out just to hear about my sad stories, though." he tried to kid.

"But I like stories."

"Not the sad ones, I bet."

"You're not a sad story, Finnick."

Then he felt like he could cry; as he stared at Annie, Finnick knew there was absolutely not a more perfect time that he had held her hand or had stood in front of her. He couldn't recall when he started to feel it, maybe later he can think about it further and rummage through his hazy memories, but she was just amazingly beautiful and smart and perfect to him right at the moment it was so hard for him to properly breathe.

That and the fact that she wasn't pulling her hand still...

"Do you think they'd show up?"

"Of course they will."

"Did Annie look excited?"

"Hm, that's hard to imagine. I mean she's going with Finnick, right?"

Johnny snorted. "So much for being a friend, Simmons."

Linda huffed. "Look, I'm just being realistic alright? Kudos to Finnick for finally asking her out, but what if Annie just said yes out of pity?"

"You honestly believe that?"

"Well, I might not be wrong you know."

"So, how come you actually panicked when you knew about David?"

Linda slapped his arm, some of the hooks Johnny was holding slipped from his hand.

"Look, Johnny." She huffed once more. "I know Annie more than you do. That girl doesn't have any spite in her bones. And besides," She paused. "We all had to feel for Finnick, after all he's been through."

"Now there, stop." Johnny snapped.

"What?"

"That thing about feeling sorry for Finnick. He doesn't like it." He explained. "And more importantly, he doesn't deserve it. The poor guy's been trying so hard to move on and people just keep on clamouring back up that event in his life."

"Fine, maybe he doesn't deserve any pity. But I'm just trying to be sympathetic! I mean wouldn't you? You're his best friend."

"As his best friend, I forbid you to be sympathetic. Give him some credit, Linda. He's a Victor. He's strong as he looks. Don't go telling me he's not!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were about to."

"That's not what I'm supposed to say."

"Not arguing again, I hope?" Danny Cross entered his shack with a handful of knotted ropes in his hands. Elizabeth Fisher came up next to him, holding a large picnic basket.

"Why is it that every time I see you two, you are debating about something." The red hair asked, putting the basket on the counter and starting to unload it.

"Trying to rip their heads off, if you ask me." Danny smirked.

Linda rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"So what is it this time?" Elizabeth asked again, now pulling out some sandwiches from the basket and carefully placing them on the counter.

"Nothing, really." said Linda.

"She was insulting Finnick so I felt the need to defend him." Johnny scoffed.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Insulting Finnick?"

"I didn't insult him! All I said was that maybe Annie went to her date with Finnick out of pity."

"That is insulting!" exclaimed Johnny.

"Oh, that's today isn't it, their date?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Yep," answered Danny with a smirk, now hanging the ropes on the far end of the shack. "I saw them an hour ago at the square. Didn't feel the need to disturb, seems like they're having fun."

"You see!" Johnny cried. "Finnick can be good company, if he wants to anyway."

"Why do you two always argue about Finnick and Annie?" Elizabeth asked, now handing them some refreshments from her picnic basket.

Johnny dutifully took the tumbler before saying, "Linda likes to meddle."

"No, I don't." the other blonde retorted. "And may I remind you, you were the one who happened to start this argument in the first place. You were nervous about them not showing up to support you for the Haul."

"Aw, Johnny," Danny shook his head, now also drinking from his own tumbler. "Don't you think we're enough support? That hurts."

"C'mon, don't listen to this dork." Johnny replied, glaring at Linda. "I'm fine!"

Linda laughed unabashedly, spilling some orange juice on the floor. "If you say so."

"I feel like this is the first time I'm doing this." he said. They were still leaning on the lighthouse rails, watching the West Beach. "And it feels really nice."

It was getting better, Finnick thought. Even after that disastrous few minutes (his skin still slightly crawling at the thought of how easily he succumbed to his worst memories), he felt like he could get used to dates—dates with Annie in particular. It wasn't so bad. He barely needed the suave lines he learned from the Capitol or the small reflexes he used to do to appease a trader. Of course, he reminded himself. He was not on a date for a trader. He was on a date because for once, he wanted to be on a date.

"First time doing what?" Annie tucked her hair behind her ear when the wind blew. He hated that she let go from his hand a while back, but she went around the lighthouse observing the view and he thought watching her from afar—from where he remained standing, leaning—wasn't as bad as he initially thought.

"This." he gestured his hands and shrugged. "A date."

Annie laughed.

"What?"

"You had dates before, Finnick." She explained, resting her arms on the rails, looking again to the far away sea. "Countless times we saw that during broadcast."

Finnick tried to hide his shivers. Those weren't dates. Whatever was televised for the nation to see was an external layer to what would happen right after—when the cameras were not there, when the curtains closed, when there was no one but him and his 'date'.

"Those weren't really dates." he murmured.

Annie looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" he asked.

"Let's not go in there." She whispered back. "I remember the last time we did, I fell off the docks and we started a new war."

Finnick finally managed a laugh. "True. I wouldn't want to ruin this."

Annie looked at him intently, a slight wonder on her face—her eyes were mischievous and there was a smirk on her lips. "May I ask you something then?"

It was Finnick's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Alright?"

He held his breath and waited for her. And knowing Annie, she could hit him with a hard one.

She chuckled before proceeding, possibly because of the expression of his face (nervous and pale). Then she stood up straight and took a deep breath.

"Why did you ask me out then?"

Chivy Dweller drove surprisingly slow for a woman of her caliber.

She arrived at the District not far too long ago with another mission to face, just as it was exactly a week ago that she had delivered Finnick from the Capitol after he fulfilled the sent request of a patron, as stated by Klaus DeMonch in his letter a few weeks back. As usual, Finnick despised it. True, he was just three days gone from the District and possibly, his friends didn't even notice his departure. But all the same, the disgust didn't leave the Victor's face when she fetched him from the Capitol.

"Just think about the Bonfire, darling." She urged him then as they traveled on the train. "I bet you can't wait."

Finnick was staring out the window deep in his thoughts, as always. She wondered how someone so beautiful could be so miserable.

"I feel dirty." was all he said.

"Why don't you take a bath then?"

She watched as he rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you excited to go home, though?" she pressed.

He only shrugged.

"You're supposed to be used to this by now." Chivy knew that it was unfair to say that. But he must know that for as long as he lived, his trades will go on forever.

"That's not a nice thing to say." he murmured.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"That's the thing though." Finnick continued after a little while, still looking at the passing fields and concrete outside. "I'm used to it—the idea of this, knowing that I have to do what I'm told. That I can't do anything—that I can't turn things around, that I can't make any of this stop. That even if I feel angry and violated, there's nothing I can do. The irony of how they call me a Victor even if I'm so helpless."

Those tirades weren't new to Chivy's ears. He wasn't her first Victor to undergo such government requests. The others thought that the easiest way to cope with their new realities was to embrace it, to live it. Soon, they became their worst fears; they became the people they hated to become. It was horrible for her to watch innocent lives become corrupt and unrespectable. But Finnick wasn't like the others. He, for so long now, was silently fighting the norm Victors like himself succumbed to in order to ease their pain, their families' suffering. For Finnick, the more offers he got, the more he became annoyed by it. He didn't treat those as compliments but rather, they were all additional strings tied to him, forbidding him to escape his fate.

Chivy could only do so much without hurting her own reputation. Her worst fear was for someone to replace her as District Four escort. She could only imagine the struggle Finnick and Mags would endure in gaining the trust of whoever will replace her; their struggle perhaps to gain that person's protection from further damage of the Capitol.

Chivy didn't exactly know how she was able to drag her feet late last night to ride the train and into the government car to travel around Four. All she knew was that she dreaded this day the moment an envelope slipped past under her apartment door two days ago. A chill ran through her, as it always did, whenever the President's stamp was etched on its flap. It was a chill that warned her there was nothing she, or Finnick, could do.

A pleasant morning was all she hoped for and that a good and scrumptious meal was what he had for breakfast. Generally, she was hoping for an understanding and patient Finnick today. It was a shot in the dark, she knew too, given her news, but that was all she could do now. But still, she couldn't forget that when she drove past the West Beach earlier and of course she had to see him—so familiar yet surprisingly so unrecognizable. There was a sincere and genuine smile rarely seen on his young and handsome face. He was holding the hand, undoubtedly, of the only woman that mattered in his life. Chivy gave out a small smile and shook her head, all the more feeling the weighted dread on her shoulders; anticipating now of his rampage and his helplessness.

She couldn't believe she had to do it again. Today, of all the days.

(Words Scarcely Begun on the Lips)

It was so simple, so easy.

Finnick exhaled and laughed.

"What?" Annie exclaimed, slapping his shoulder. "What's funny?"

"You." Finnick reasoned, now shaking his head at the beautiful—perfect, wonderful, breathtaking—albeit ridiculous girl, in front of him. "You are funny."

"How so?"

He started inching closer towards her, disbelief still etched on his face because how could she not know? Not when he was trying to keep her hand in his all morning (and at how he was trying to do so again); how could she not know when perhaps, the rest of their friends already knew—when David already knew.

"This is what I want, Annie." he started, reaching out and settled his hand on her cheek. "For the longest time now, I've been dreaming to be on a date with you. And damn I wish I'd done it sooner."

"Oh." was what Annie could ransack from her brain. Of all the proper words she knew—'thank you', 'nice', 'that explains it'—Oh was the only word (was it even a word?) she could produce.

"Well, don't act too surprised." Finnick continued, releasing her from his hold and turning towards the sea again. "I'm not the only one, I bet. What was I, the thirteenth person to ask you out for the Bonfire?"

Annie snorted. Well, he was not wrong.

"Yeah. Thirteenth. Didn't know you could get so lucky."

"Didn't know I could too. What with David and the others have against me."

She laughed. "The other eleven don't even count, believe me. They possibly asked me out on a bet. But yeah, David's... pretty nice to me."

Finnick looked back at her and nodded. "Yeah, he seems like a good guy. Pity we didn't get to know him that much."

"He seems so mysterious." Annie explained, remembering how it was in the Government School just a few weeks back when David Gray was always at her side; or those afternoon meetings on the West Beach watching the sunset. Finnick didn't know about those escapades and somehow being here with him at the lighthouse made it feel like those meetings were some secret she needed to divulge to him. He did share his own miseries just a few minutes back, she considered. But it was something she had expected from him, like he was waiting for someone to finally listen, even if he didn't even want to talk.

Annie wanted so desperately to ask Finnick of what had happened. To his family, to his routines at the Capitol, to his young self—a lot of them in the District could only guess and they can only guess based on the little pieces the Capitol wanted them to know. Worst, Annie could only guess on what Finnick wanted her to know. As she looked back at him, as he was still probably pondering on the mysteriousness of David Gray, Annie was slightly glad to know they were finally starting somewhere—that they were, or at least she was, trying to forget about the animosity floating over them whenever he was around town.

For a time too, when they were younger and possibly more unforgiving, Annie couldn't take the thought of Finnick becoming a Capitol pawn. That was where all Victors were headed, she knew, after witnessing how several Victors from Four eventually turned out. With the exemption of Mags, Annie never wanted any District Four tributes to win. Cruel to think of it that way, but she'd rather see them wane fighting inside the Games rather than succumb to the life waiting for them in the Capitol.

She hated it. She hated that Finnick won. She hated that he was going to be like the people she hated. Even when she was relieved to see him alive—that he was still there like the seven year old she knew, grinning in front of the cameras, running his hand through his hair—she knew, the moment he faced the entire country with the Capitol logo emblazoned on his white shirt, he was theirs. And perhaps, there was no coming back. She rejoiced in the simplicity that it made his family happy—Frank, Natalia, and Dylan. They celebrated his return and survival. For their sake she smiled. But it didn't go unnoticed that she was starting to distance herself; a number of Odair dinner invitations she let pass, pretending she'll be spending the night at Linda's house, or that one time Finnick looked for her and she couldn't bear see him. Soon, they just became that way, so far apart.

Things turned much colder because even if Annie thought Finnick would not take notice of her absence, it seemed like he did. And he challenged her by distancing himself too. So it appeared after that, all connection was lost. Until just a few nights ago, when he finally asked her to the Bonfire and she finally allowed him to do so.

"Hmm. David the Mysterious" Finnick chuckled beside her. "Never knew you find the mysterious kind attractive."

"I never said I was attracted to mysterious men!" Annie exclaimed, recovering from her deep thoughts.

"Don't let the oh-handsome-one hear you say that."

"Don't mock him, he is good-looking."

Finnick snorted and stood up straighter. "I am good-looking."

"But you know it, so it gets ruined."

"It's called confidence, Ann." he kidded, but slouched back. "See how you easily wound me?"

"I never knew you to be so sensitive, being a Victor and all."

Finnick smirked. "I could surprise you."

"At some point during the last few days, you already did."

His face lighted and there was a shy smile on his face—the kind that didn't really reach far too out to his ears. But it was softer and kinder, and he looked down to his feet.

"Compliments scare you, Odair?"

"No," he said. "Not entirely. Coming from you though is another story. I never once thought you'd actually say something good to me."

Annie rolled her eyes. "I told you. I don't hate you."

"Anymore?" he chuckled.

"Anymore." she replied, laughing with him.

"And you did say yes to this date. That proved something, doesn't it?"

"Prove what, exactly?"

He laughed again. "That David and the others don't have anything against me."

"Although," Annie took a moment, eyebrows creased together. "I think I do need to apologize to the others, shouldn't I? Especially to David."

"What for?"

"They did ask me first."

"But why should you say sorry?"

"Because I didn't accept. That I am here with you instead."

"You're sorry that you're here with me?" Finnick eyed her incredulously.

Annie only rolled her eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Are you certain?"

"Finnick!" she nudged him. "David needs an explanation. More than anyone."

"Hmm."

"It's just that," she started to explain, looking at her hands that are now gripping the railings. "We did spend some time together and he's starting to become a really good friend."

Finnick nodded. Annie wasn't really sure if he was acknowledging what she was saying or at least had an idea where it was going.

"And he did say something else." she whispered after a while.

Finnick's eyebrows shot and urged her to continue. But Annie suddenly felt guilty, as if something wasn't right in telling Finnick; she suddenly wasn't sure that she had to. Those afternoon meetings were something she shared with David—most especially that one time where he confessed about the effect she had on him, or the way Willard was now suddenly so curious about 'That handsome gray-eyed boy.' She felt bad knowing that she was the one who started this in the first place, all the confessing, and Finnick already did his part—albeit still lacking the information she wanted to know. Nevertheless, he did let her in somehow.

But who was she kidding, though? She knew that what worried her now was Finnick's reaction if she did tell. Will he be angry? Will he actually care? Other than a person from his past, what was she to Finnick, anyhow? More than that, what did she want to be exactly? Annie was definitely beginning to feel more terrified of her own reaction to his reaction.

"You know what," Finnick finally spoke, her silence possibly telling him of her hesitations. "You don't need to say it."

Annie looked up. He was smirking—the one she'd come to know so well while growing up.

"You don't need to tell," he repeated. "You don't need to tell me anything because I already know. In fact, a lot of people know."

Surprised, Annie let out a breath and shook her head. "Whatever do you mean?" She tried to deny it but the continuing smirk on Finnick's face told her otherwise. He did know.

"You are aware that we go to the same school, right?" he teased. After a little while, "It's not... surprising. What he has been doing for you. The times I saw you both on the beach after school, visiting Mags, or just hanging around. I definitely know what he's up to."

Annie breathed again. Of course, he had seen those. Possibly, the whole town knew about their little escapades.

"It wasn't, you know, official or anything." Annie murmured, now feeling totally embarrassed.

He shook his head. "It's not my business Annie, and honestly, I really don't care."

Annie's chest heaved painfully. So that was it. That was his answer, hitting her right there in the middle. She continued to stare at her hands and let her hair get carried by the wind to cover up her face. It surprised her—that overwhelming feeling of disappointment. Truthfully, she wasn't expecting that.

Even if she could face it, even if she already had an idea, it still did confirm her thoughts. She was just his person from the past. A sanctuary of some sort that could transport him back to the days he still had his parents. So he could remember; so he could redeem himself. Annie simply was an instrument.

"I mean don't get me wrong," Finnick then continued, cutting Annie from her thoughts. "But do you actually think his affections would even stop me... from reaching out to you?"

Annie froze. What did he just say?

Finnick gently swung her so that she was facing him. He slowly lifted her chin. He gazed at her intently; wondering, frowning... slightly frustrated. "Were you even listening to me earlier, Annie? Please don't let me say it again because it took me three long years to finally admit it."

He was out. Not even remotely half way through the intensity of his feelings for her but Finnick hoped he got it across—somehow. How could she even doubt now that they were on an actual date? Sometimes he still couldn't believe how insecure she could get even if she didn't have any reasons to be. But that was Annie to him—kind and selfless. With a smart mouth, he had to admit; stubborn at times and wouldn't easily take a lying down. Annie was all sorts of perfection and imperfection for him. Maybe even for David too. But David didn't matter today.

She was Annie—his Annie—he wanted soon to believe. Slightly flushed now that he was still gazing at her and had confessed vaguely of a promise (he was on a roll today. Confessions seemed to be an occurrence during dates) that this was not just a catch-up between two old friends, that this was entirely something else.

He caressed her cheek and finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Would you at least say something?"

She stared at him for too long that he thought he could memorize her features yet again—not that he couldn't perfectly recall.

"What do you want me to say?" she whispered.

Finnick grinned. How badly he needed to hear it, how he had achingly wanted to know. "Well, since you so kindly asked me why I invited you out to this date, I guess it's pretty fair for me to ask why on earth did you actually say yes?"

That broke whatever trance she was in. Suddenly, Annie was laughing, taking her eyes off him finally.

"Are you trying to outsmart me?" she asked disbelievingly.

"No," Finnick just shrugged. "I was actually trying to pry out an answer. A real answer."

She stopped laughing and huffed. She was surveying him, expecting perhaps a punch line he would throw at her, explaining how he had made such a tremendous joke. But it won't come, Finnick stared back intently. She had to know that.

"Finnick," she started again, more calmly this time.

"Yeah?"

"You see we haven't, you know..."

"What?"

"Finnick..."

He sighed. "Will you just tell me the truth?" After a while, he touched her cheek once more, leaning in closer. "Is it that difficult? Did you feel forced to be here?"

"No!" she exclaimed, waving her hand. "No, I don't."

"Then what?" he held on to her for some time, deciphering what she was thinking—trying to unravel the truth swimming inside her head, hoping that she would say what he had wanted to hear. Had she forgiven him for his absence? For the lost years that they had, for those nights that he had looked upon a trader though wanting nothing but to see her face?

"Finnick," But so suddenly, a loud cracking noise from the West Beach interrupted them. It was soon followed by the echoing of cymbals and drums and few more fireworks. The gathering crowd below also now doubled in size, signaling that the Haul ceremony was about to start. Finnick realized he'd now lost his chance for an answer.

"The Haul," Annie spoke quietly, confirming his thoughts; her face inches away from his. "I think we need to go now."

Silly Bonfire Haul. Silly. Silly.

Finnick managed to give her a small smile, consoling himself in the thought that there was enough time during the day to prod her for answers.

"Don't you even think this is the end of it, Cresta."

She laughed, slowly moving away now. "Then I guess you just have to wait and find out."

Without any more words, Annie ran inside the lighthouse then towards the staircase, abruptly and successfully leaving him so unsatisfied.

(Go Out Toward The Water)

There was a small stage just a few feet away from the docks, where in view as well, was a District guard already escorting the Mayor towards that leveled platform where a lone microphone stand was billeted.

Johnny took a deep breath as he lined among several other young men in front of the stage. Some were waving to a couple of spectators, or rather admirers, a few feet away; some were merely stretching and flexing their muscles in preparation to the tedious work they would be doing soon, and some, well just him—Johnny—honestly, was seemingly perplexed with all that is happening he felt like he was about to vomit.

Because damn he was nervous. He lied to his friends, of course, that he was fine. But what can he do now?

The District Mayor tapped the microphone once and cleared his throat. An assistant hurriedly approached him and handed him a sheet of paper, probably to read off whatever it was he was about to say.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Mayor began, his voice booming on huge speakers surrounding the West Beach. "Here we are once again, to a day of celebrations. We, at District Four, remember the gifts our dear President Snow has shared with us. It is with his bountiful support that made our District one of the finest districts in Panem..." There was a huge applause from the crowd. "... where there is always an assurance in our safety, our food supplies, our general well-being..."

But Johnny couldn't hear the Mayor any longer. He was feeling really terrible and the world around him seemed to be moving in circles. He looked for a familiar face. On his right, he saw Danny and Elizabeth. They too weren't listening to the Mayor but were staring at him, with huge smiles on each. Danny even gave him a wink and a thumbs-up. Beside the couple was Willard Cresta, also smiling, proud perhaps of what a skinny, curly blonde boy like him had decided to make of his dull District Four life. Linda was also still surprisingly there beside the Cross-Fisher tandem. She looked annoyed, perhaps because of the crowd, but she skeptically nodded at him. He couldn't find Finnick nor Annie anywhere, but it didn't even matter anymore. He knew he was already turning green and his breakfast seemed to want to crawl out of his stomach. How he wished he didn't eat all those sandwiches Elizabeth had prepared.

What had he gotten himself into? He wasn't Finnick, he wasn't Danny, he wasn't David, and he most definitely wasn't even half the physicality of the boy standing next to him, stretching his body for all the women to swoon at, his biceps bulging with what looked arms padded with rocks.

He wasn't anyone of these men lined up alongside him.

He can't do it.

Johnny looked around. He had a few mere seconds to back out of the line and disappear among the crowd. He was skinny and none would even notice he'd be gone. That was a good plan. But then,

"Hey, Johnny!" he heard someone said, but not loud enough for everyone to hear. Johnny turned to where the voice came from. "Over here!"

And then there he was, scruffy and toothy like he remembered him, Thomas Ray beamed proudly at his direction, with his younger sibling, Stella, in tow.

The boy waved at him and then held his sister's little hand to do the same. "I'm rooting for 'ya!" he shouted.

Johnny afforded to give Thomas and Stella a small smile, surprised at this uncalled for support. Despite his still churning stomach, Johnny realized he didn't feel any better but he suddenly felt the need to be.

"... It has been a fruitful year for our District and today, as we celebrate this momentous day of our summer season, our most beloved and most majestic time of the year, I bring to you my joyous welcome to our Annual Bonfire Haul." In the background, the Mayor finally ended his speech. He did a little bow and had a generous applause from the gathered crowd. It wasn't long after that though when the whistles and the cheers began, making Johnny even more petrified than he was just seconds before. And then suddenly,

"Chin up, Pearson!" Another voice shouted. And he knew that voice—that shout—and only one person could dare.

Finnick was just now standing right beside Thomas, with Stella now up on his shoulders. Annie was with them too and she was grinning widely. He knew they would show up (but he definitely did, in fact, doubted for a while there at the shack). Seeing all his friends finally complete along the shore, he could not help but realize at how much it was a scene he could get used to, even if it mattered only a little right now because he was going to be among the boys joining the contest and they would be far away, probably perched on the dock, anticipating under the warm sun and perhaps occasionally stomping on the warm beach sand, of all the other schemes about to happen on this day. How he just wanted to be with them and wait for the Haul to be over.

"You don't want to drown in sorrows before you even reach the water, do you?" Finnick continued.

"Shut up." Johnny yelled back, finally finding the courage to do so. It earned a few laughs from the crowd and a large grin from Finnick.

"I'll see you at the Bonfire." Finnick shouted back.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Have fun you lovebirds, I'll get you guys a drink tonight after I lit the fire." He blurted back. Johnny didn't know where that came from. Not the 'lovebirds' part, truly, but that thing about lighting the fire.

Surely now?

"All participants to the docks!" the Mayor announced.

Smiling one more time to Finnick and Annie, Johnny picked up his equipment and started to walk with the others, appreciating, even just for a bit, the thunderous applause they were receiving. He knew he wasn't going to win it but he sure as hell could try. For his friends, at least. And for little Thomas and Stella.

"Hey," Finnick called again and Johnny looked back. "You'll do great."

For the first time that day, he might have slightly believed it too.

At the sound of the horn, all the contestants went up to their place on the docks. Lining up on his side was Willard, Danny, and to Johnny's surprise, David Gray. Danny was already reaching out to his equipment while Willard went ahead to prepare the boat he was going to use.

"You scared, buddy?" Danny asked.

"Not more than the usual, I guess." he shrugged. "What's David doing here?"

Danny turned to look at David who was awkwardly trying to help Willard. The old man, on the other hand, seemed to be amused. Johnny could only guess why.

"Well, he volunteered, believe it or not." Danny answered him. "Just before you arrived at the shack, he asked if he could help out during prep. And I thought, why not? We could always use a helping hand."

Johnny knew there was only one reason David Gray was helping him. Either because David found out that Johnny knew about what he said that day on the Cresta household or he was here, point-blank, for Willard.

"It's just so weird though," Johnny tried to be nonchalant as he and Danny walked towards his boat. "We really aren't that close."

"Don't complain now, Johnny. He did pull out all your ropes this morning. Besides, he also volunteered for the festival. Who knows, he might do you some big favour."

Johnny ignored that last remark from Danny. He didn't need Gray's help. But when they neared, he did hope that he could hear what Willard and David was talking about. But all he could comprehend was a chuckle from the old man followed by a garbled reassurance.

"... it's nothing, son." said Willard. Beside him, David gave a small smile—tighter when he saw him and Danny now closing in.

"Gray," Danny greeted. "Good for you for helping out Johnny."

"Yeah, thanks." Johnny urged himself to say.

"It's nothing."

"Well, seems like you're all prepped up here, buddy." Danny cleared, after giving the boat a once-over. He handed him a couple more tools before tapping him on the shoulder. "Just remember, let out all the masts once you feel the wind going northeast. You'd want to be on the lighthouse side rather than the Victor's Village. More fish there."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Here," David took the bag from his hold and pushed him lightly towards the boat. "I'll take this, go in."

Johnny did as he was told, feeling nauseous once again as the three stronger and more confident men stared at him. As he settled down, David walked up and joined him, setting the bag down on his feet.

"Just be careful." he advised. In the background, Danny and Willard were now starting to untie the boat. "The Haul's really about looking for that right spot rather than the strength of the boater. If you find a large enough coral reef, you'd be fine."

"Thanks." Johnny murmured again.

Beside him David sighed. "Look, Pearson. You got yourself into this situation. Be a man and face it."

Heat rose up to Johnny's cheek. "I am doing this!"

"Doesn't seem like you want to."

"I don't need your opinion, Gray."

"Of course you don't." David agreed as he put his hand on his waist. "But their opinion matter to you."

David nodded towards the shore. He saw Finnick and Annie settling down on a blanket. Thomas and Stella were also not for away and Elizabeth and Linda were just taking their own seats on their own blanket. Then as if he could feel him staring, Finnick looked back and gave him a salute.

"Why didn't he join?" David then asked.

"What?"

"Finnick. Why doesn't he ever join the Haul?"

Johnny shrugged. "He doesn't like competitions."

David snorted beside him. "Yeah, of course."

"Well, why didn't you?" Johnny challenged him back.

David frowned. "This is not my kind of game, Pearson."

"Of course."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well in two weeks, we'll know."

"Tell yourself that, Johnny." David replied, now climbing out of the boat and back into the docks with Willard and Danny. "But at least if you win today, not only do you get to have your own speech, but you could set something on fire."

"Oh you'd wish that, don't you?"

Subtly, as if no one would notice but of course Johnny did (as seemingly, he was the most observant among everyone else), David glanced back towards the beach—flinching slightly as he probably set his eyes on the two people he pretended not to care about (but again Johnny knew that he did). "Yeah, I really wish I could."

With another blast from the horn, Johnny took his attention away finally from other's miseries and focused on his own. With a quick 'good luck', David finally pushed the boat towards the water and in mere seconds, he was floating away.

Unnerved and unfamiliar with this kind of isolation, Johnny felt so small. Turning his back away from the beach and into the horizon, he pulled the nearest pail he could find and finally vomited.

The other boats were now far from him and their masts already in set. He knew that if this kept up, he'd be a laughing stock back there at the beach. Not knowing where to find the courage but still determined not to be laughed at, Johnny disregarded the pail to the other side and stood up, tugging the rope above him to release his own mast. He kept himself busy, even if he didn't know if he was doing the right things, and started to unfold the nets and threw it into the water.

Sitting now on a small chair, he waited for something to happen. Not far from his boat, other contestants were already hauling up their nets and Johnny could just see the small bundle they produced when they lifted it. Tilting his head to his own sprawled out ones, Johnny dragged his net upward but regrettably only had cascading water and empty of what should be a fish (or even just a semblance of it). Angrily, he threw it back, thinking that it could be a long day.

So he lied on the wooden deck instead, wanting nothing but to have this competition finally end. Now this wasn't so grand as he expected. Besides, Johnny knew he'd have no chance of winning this Haul so he will just wait for another boater to speed past him and into the docks before he would steer his way back as well. At least he tried and he made it this far into the sea. Thomas would understand, of course. And Finnick wouldn't mind either. His mother was presumably still in the market selling sweetened fruits and would be here during the Bonfire and more than anything else, he knew she'd rather he got out of this competition in one piece than hurt himself in trying to win.

So what was the deal anyway?

He sat up again, thinking hard about his last thought. What was the deal with this Haul that he felt like he needed to prove something? Glancing back once again into the far shores of the beach, as if he could see them watching and waiting for him—he couldn't deny that even if his mother and his friends won't mind if he lost, what was so wrong in hoping he could win something?

He was always expecting things to turnout ordinarily for him—if not badly; average grades, average looks, average wealth.

Average. Just like all the other blank faces of Four. Deep inside he knew he despised being one. And every day he was reminded of this monotony, more so when he stood by Finnick, and even now too, with the drama going around David Gray.

For once, why couldn't the gossip be about him?

But silencing him from his thoughts, Johnny heard a low grumble far ahead on the horizon. He was doubtful about the storm and he was still doubtful about it now. The sun was just too high up there with no clouds in sight. Yet when Johnny retreated back into his daydreaming, a gush of wind came out of nowhere and displaced him from his trance. His mast was curving with the force and before he knew it, the boat was swerving fast. He needed to hold into the railings to keep himself steady.

He couldn't control the boat any longer but did what Danny had told him. He let the wind take him to the northeast side, unmindful that the others were either plainly going north or farther to the other side almost near the Victor's Village. There was no point in fighting it as long as he didn't hit the rocks.

When he felt the boat slowing down (finally, he prayed)—taking his hold off the boat's railings—he stood up straighter and balanced himself before reaching out into the water and spreading the tangled nets once again. As he did, he could dimly make out what was underneath the sea. Looking more closely (almost dipping his head into the water), Johnny wasn't sure but it definitely looked like a pretty big reef. And underneath as well, silver and shining—so many of them, some so little, some huge—he definitely knew what they were.

Not wasting any more time, Johnny lined up his nets directly where the fish were. Then slowly, watching them swimming down below—and then right there—when they almost reached farther from the end of his net, he hauled it upwards, bringing along a huge bundle of flapping and scaly and most definitely heavy herrings. Johnny dragged the net upward once more but heavy with its weight, he tripped on the tiller and fell back although managing to get the entirety of the haul on his boat.

Around him, the fish scattered. Water was sprinkling everywhere and his skin felt raw from the sharp edges of their fins. Despite himself, despite the stench he knew would clung to his hair for days, Johnny laughed with gusto—not knowing of the last time he laughed with so much vigor. But before the enormity of what had happened sunk in and before he could consider the luck someone had bestowed upon him, the forgotten net in the starboard side swung.

And it all felt too familiar, just like how it was moments ago. Hurriedly standing up and into the nets, hauling them up just as he did so in the port side (though not tripping this time), Johnny could not believe it. He didn't know there could be this so much fish on this part of the ocean.

Finding his strength amidst the flapping noises of the fish and his now gooey and slippery boat, he laughed again wholeheartedly; ready to take in more of these fish if he could.

As he looked up, not far away from where he was, he saw the lighthouse just on top of the hill. Down below it, the waves were crashing on the rocks and he knew how beautiful the sea foam must have looked from up there. But as he did so, looking upward still and thanking his friends for believing in him because it made him believe in himself too, he saw his mast—this triangular piece of canvass that led him into this perfect spot; this mast that he definitely owed this day; this mast that had the richest shade of blue he had ever seen, shining bright with the sun, as if part of the sky.

Some boats were now lined up again on the shore, some just returning from the distant sea, their masts still scattered on the horizon—red, green, white—and the people started to flock the beach once again, finding their own spot and sit out and wait for their favorite boater to return. In the middle of it all, a few workers already started digging a large pit for the Bonfire later and a few also started dispatching driftwoods to it.

Finnick leaned whilst using his elbow for support and stared out into the sea with Annie beside him, sitting with her legs stretched out. They placed their blanket just under the tree to shade them from the oncoming heat of the sun.

"So," said Finnick.

"So?"

"About earlier."

"What about it?"

"You'd think I'd let you get away with it?"

"Get away with what?"

"Annie."

"Finnick."

"You owe me an answer." Finnick sat up straight and watched as Annie smirked at him. "It's only fair that you give me an answer. I mean, I've said lots of things today."

"But I didn't ask you to, did I?" Annie teased. And she was right at that too.

Finnick scratched his head instead, knowing that he might not win this one—possibly too, knowing that he can never win against her.

"Fine," he conceded, lying down finally on the blanket and resting his head under his arms.

He hoped that it was quieter on the beach but he loved that he could just hear Thomas and Stella playing with the other kids somewhere down the shore. He wouldn't even dare look for his Aunt Irvette and Uncle Marion but he knew they could be somewhere in here too. But what he most liked about this day was the lack of ogling and inquiries from the townsfolk. They didn't dare question why he was with Annie and he was grateful as well that she wasn't the one being pestered.

So suddenly, as if teasing him still (torturing him, most likely), Annie lied by his side and rested her hands on her stomach. In the corner of his eyes he couldn't help but gape at this new development. He wasn't complaining but he sure didn't expect this to happen. She closed her eyes and Finnick took this opportunity to stare more intently, now slightly pulling himself up to get a good view.

Her lashes were long and thick and tiny freckles covered the top of her nose. The lights were playful too upon her face as the leaves above them swayed into the breeze. She looked so at ease that Finnick wanted to bask in it, dreaming that someday he could master such a demeanor. Smiling and recovering from his quiet outburst of joy, he laid back and tried to mimic her, resting his hands on his stomach and closing his eyes.

"Curiosity." Annie murmured after a while.

Finnick pried his eyes open and looked down on her. She still had her own eyes closed but there was a smile on her lips.

"You wanted to know why I said yes and that is my reason. I was curious." Annie opened her eyes now and gazed at him, "I was curious on how you are going to be on a date."

Smirking, he replied. "And how am I doing so far?"

Sitting up and eyeing him, as if appraising. "I can't say yet."

Finnick sat up straight as well, quite relieved with her response. Because if he was to rate his performance, he'd say he was doing okay—more than okay if he allowed himself to be more truthful. Because even if she denied it, even if she continued to tease him, he knew she was having fun. If she wasn't, if she was not okay with any of the things they had done, she would have left him already.

"Fair enough." he finally said. "I still have the entire afternoon and the Bonfire to convince you that I am the best date you'll ever have."

Her laughter ran through him and he felt another tug in his chest so overly familiar to him at this point, although still finding himself quite unused to its intensity.

What was she doing to him?

But then from far away, they could hear yelling and shouting—some congratulatory, some disbelief. The others sitting around them also started to notice and they soon went towards the dock where a few number of people were already assembled.

Wonder crossed Annie's face and Finnick knew too that he was wearing the same expression. But not relatively far from view, and ironically going into the opposite direction, Linda was running towards where they were sitting, elated and yet somewhat astounded. When she reached their spot, she looked like she could have fainted.

"You won't believe this," she breathed. "But Johnny just won the Haul."

(Don't Go Far Off, Even For A Day)

They were still sitting on a patterned blanket—at the beach, as promised—which Finnick had borrowed from the shack where Danny and Johnny were busy talking about the techniques and speed limits he did for the Haul. The sun was already preparing to set from behind them and true, he had missed his daily routine of watching the sunrise this morning, but he'll be more damned if he had missed this.

Finnick was again inside the shack to get some snacks from the picnic basket Elizabeth prepared for everyone. But from the looks of it, it seemed that it had already been ransacked and he guessed Johnny and Danny had a whole lot of fun with it.

"So I believe that even if I didn't win, you'd still win right?"

"What are you talking about?"

Finnick heard Johnny sigh beside him, "You look like you are having the time of your life out there with Annie."

"Hmm." was all he replied, still searching for proper food.

"Ahh, what am I thinking? You are dying of happiness out there." Johnny snorted.

"You know what," Finnick finally said, closing the basket lid and was now holding two sandwiches and two tumblers. "I am absolutely ecstatic. I never felt better."

"Figures." Johnny rolled his eyes, now lining all his equipment on the shop's counter. "... bet you are here just to spend the whole Bonfire with her."

"I do, as a matter of fact." Finnick agreed quickly. "Look, Annie and I really planned to spend the whole day on the beach to cheer for you, buddy. Just got side tracked at the lighthouse. Besides, you'd still be lighting the bonfire tonight. I wouldn't want to miss that." Finnick winked.

That earned him a smirk and a silent 'thank you' from his best friend. It felt nice being able to help Johnny through this entire spectacle in his own little ways. Danny and Willard were the best teachers Johnny could ask for and there was no way Finnick can actually contribute something essential to this fishing competition. Besides, he had enough of all those competitions. For once, he wanted to just be on the sidelines.

Finnick turned to look back towards his best friend, happy to see how Johnny's hard work had paid off for him. So not wanting to anymore disrupt his best friend's solitary elation, he nodded at him one last time before heading back to the beach.

"You won't mess this up, would you?" Johnny spoke before Finnick could walk out of the shack.

He turned. Frowning and slightly distrubed, Finnick placed the food he was holding on the towel shelf next to him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Johnny sighed and scrutinized his equipment once more. "Nothing. I just meant... you two look good together."

Finnick watched as his best friend rummage his tools senselessly.

"Don't let anyone ruin that." He added.

Finnick huffed. "Of course, I won't."

"Then that's great." Johnny murmured at first. But then finally, he turned to look at him after a deep breath. "I really wish you the best, Fin."

Finnick crossed the room again and huddled close to his best friend. "Where is this coming from, Johnny? I mean seriously, lighten up. You won the Haul! And believe me, I do not have the slightest intention to ruin this—whatever this I have with Annie."

"I know." Johnny sighed, cutting him off. "Look, Finnick. I'm sorry I said that. It meant nothing. I know you won't mess it up."

"Of course, I won't."

"Then that's good to hear."

"Yeah."

Johnny nodded. Finnick watched as he slowly started to put every tool inside his rucksack once more, probably preparing to go back to the beach for the Bonfire ceremony. Finnick wasn't entirely convinced though that this was the end of it. And he couldn't seem to shrug-off that feeling that something had ticked Johnny.

"Johnny, are you sure you're alright?"

"Fin," he now rolled his eyes, as if tired from the conversation. Finnick absolutely didn't get it as he was the one who started it in the first place. "I'm fine. Just nervous for the lighting later on, I guess."

Finnick pursed his lips but nodded nonetheless, accepting his best friend's explanation.

"I saw David a while back. I mean, he wished me luck too." Johnny said after a while.

"That's great of him."

"He's okay."

"Yeah, I guess."

Johnny stopped gathering his tools to face him again, but now with a wistful look on his face. "You do know, don't you? I mean... that David... with Annie?"

It took Finnick a little while before answering. "I'm not exactly blind, you know."

"Yeah, I know that. But it's more than just that." Johnny further explained. "He's..."

Finnick stared at his best friend, trying to get what he was saying. But he realized there was no point in all of it because he didn't care. Whatever David was to Annie, whatever David wanted to be with her, he didn't care. He took the tumblers and the food from the towel rack once again and began to turn towards the door.

"Look, Johnny. I don't care." he finalized. "Whatever it is with David, I don't care."

Johnny exhaled and shook his head. His shoulders evidently relaxed. "Well that's a relief then."

"A relief? That's such a word. Why so?"

Johnny finally managed a smile. "Well you see, a few days back, I was at the Cresta's for a fishing lesson with Willard when David just appeared out of nowhere. And you wouldn't believe what he told Willard, Fin."

Finnick stilled. This he hadn't heard of. "What?"

"Well," Johnny actually chuckled. "He said he is in love with Annie. Couldn't imagine what Willard felt. When I heard it, I ran for my life. I mean could you just imagine how the hell he was able to say something like that to her father..."

Finnick's head felt like it was spinning. He gripped the tumblers tightly and he was just in disbelief. He couldn't process what he had just heard. In love. With Annie. David was in love with Annie. And Willard knew about it.

"Since when did you know?" Finnick asked, halting Johnny from his babble. When Finnick turned to look, Johnny was sheepish, ruffling his curly blonde hair.

"Like I said, a few days back."

"A few days back."

"Fin," Johnny protested but with a slight worried and apologetic look on his face. "Look, I didn't know what to do. I mean what was I supposed to do? It wasn't really my business. And I didn't... you know... you and Annie weren't really in speaking terms these past few weeks. And well, you weren't really being totally honest yourself..."

"Elaborate, please."

"I mean," Johnny now crossed the room, unmindful now of his stuff. "Who knew you'd hit it off with Annie? Who knew she'd say yes to this date? And more importantly, what do I know about your feelings for her?"

Finnick winced. "You know what I feel about her."

"Do I? You haven't really been that elaborate." Johnny snapped. "How will I know if it wasn't just a meager crush? You are Finnick Odair."

Finnick glared, anger rising up in his chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Johnny reasoned back. "I don't know half the stuff that's happening in your life anymore. The only chance I get to finally talk to you, you let yourself get into this hell-hole, pretending that you don't deserve to be happy. I've been saving your ass out there, Finnick. From all the judgement, I remain loyal to you. But sometimes I can't help but wonder too that maybe, just maybe, Annie is just this ray of sunshine you can't get enough of because your palette has gone dry in the Capitol!"

He didn't know what happened next but suddenly he had Johnny up against the wall, his hand holding him at the collar.

"Take it back." Finnick whispered, suppressing the anger he was feeling. "Take it back, Johnny."

Johnny's eyes were wide and he looked pale under the bright sunlight passing inside the shack. He was breathing hard, and Finnick realized, he was too.

"I only know things about you now based on what you want to let me know." said Johnny, struggling to speak. "The rest, I learn it from what I see and hear around town and from the Capitol news. So tell me Finnick, what was I supposed to do?"

"You could have trusted my feelings for her, my trust for you."

"Well maybe we all have been foolish. Wouldn't be the first time."

Finnick breathed hard again, watching intently at his best friend who just lashed out a tirade of what his life had become. With another wince, Finnick finally let him go. He took a step back and held his head. He heard Johnny cough and when he glanced, he was now massaging his neck and avoiding looking back at him.

"You could say that again. Trust." said Johnny.

It took a long time before either of them said another word. Finnick was now leaning on the towel shelf and Johnny was still on the opposite wall. Outside, Finnick could hear the laughter and the buzzing of the beach. Somewhere he could actually hear Danny laughing, loud and unembarrassed. Somewhere there too, still probably sitting on the blanket from Elizabeth, Annie was waiting for him and their food, wondering perhaps what might have taken so long.

So finally, Finnick gazed outside; and just right on his view, right where the window was, calm and still perfect, Annie was being entertained by a number of kids now sitting on the blanket with her. She was laughing to whatever story the kids were saying—or probably the funny faces they were making, he didn't know. And while seeing her there, and he meant just there, made him feel scared and nervous and overjoyed all at the same time. Because—as if he just realized it now despite that overwhelming feeling—Annie was just right there and he was just here, a couple of feet away; both of them, and finally perhaps, finding that perfect timing.

"So what now, Fin?" Johnny finally spoke. Looking back inside the shack, Finnick saw that he was now also staring out into the window, gazing at Annie then back towards him. Johnny shrugged, ruffled his blonde hair again and sighed.

"You know this is not worth fighting for." Finnick said bitterly, still overcoming the fact that he had attacked his best friend.

"Doesn't matter." Johnny replied. "I was out of line."

"No," Finnick admitted. "You weren't. I was."

"Yeah, well..."

"So that's what he really said?" Finnick urged. "That he loves her?"

Johnny snorted. "Yeah. After rambling other nonsensical things."

"Bless the seas."

"You tell me."

"And Willard didn't have a heart attack?"

"I thought he was about to. But I ran away before I could affirm myself."

Finnick laughed, unable to resist imagining how Willard must have felt when David confessed his feelings. But this time, he knew too that David truly had something against him. Despite the silliness of what he did, Finnick could not deny the fact that David had the backbone to be truthful and straightforward, something he was not acquainted with for the past years. And it terrified him; how David's pacing had gone from kilometers to now miles away from where he was. And to think he thought he was way far ahead.

"I'm sorry Finnick. I should have told you." Johnny whispered, now walking towards him.

Finnick sighed. "No, please don't say that. I don't deserve that. You were right. I was just not... ready. For any of this." he gestured his hand out, emphasizing. "I owe you a lot Johnny. I could have been more trusting too."

"Look," Johnny finally rallied. "Let's forget about this and just think of something you could do to counter David. Plan your own hurrah."

Again, Finnick turned to look outside. And fittingly, Annie turned to look in his way. She smiled through the glass and then curiously, the kids looked at him too, jokingly sticking out their tongues. He heard their tiny voices calling out to him.

"Do the air drowning again, Finnick!"

"I would save you!"

"Do you think I could be the shark?"

"Are you sure you know how to swim?"

"Have you gotten the food already?"

Finnick saw Annie grin once again and his stomach did that familiar flip. He cannot deny this now. Not when he knew perfectly at this moment, as he stared at her—and more so even long before, when they were just fifteen years old and he had returned to District Four after a year of doing the Victor's Tour, when he got off the train and onto the platform and found out that Annie wasn't there when the rest of them were—that there was absolutely nothing that can concern him if he was without her.

He was in love with her. And he loved her not because he'd known her all his life; most especially not because it was expected. He loved her not for any other tangible or intangible reasons. He loved her because that's the only thing he knew was true. And if by chance they only get to meet then at the beach, with just a glance, he knew he'd love her still.

So no, he was not going to mess this up, because if he did mess this up, it was over.

"Maybe it really doesn't matter what David feels for her." Finnick said, looking back at Johnny. He smiled, surprised at the sudden relief it brought. "It does not matter to me because I love her too. I love her since we were fifteen. And maybe it doesn't matter too if you knew or if Willard knew about it. Because honestly, Annie's the most important person that should know of my feelings. If she doesn't, then what's the point?"

Finnick moved, picking up a tumbler and wrapped food that was still on the floor, an aftermath of his outburst.

"I've lost so many already, Johnny. And having her, even just her, would absolutely be enough. I wouldn't easily just give that up."

Beside him, picking up the other tumbler that rolled farther from his reach, he heard Johnny chuckle, "Welcome back, Finnick Odair."

He was quite more joyous when he returned, Annie thought. Finnick laughed even on the little taunts the kids were throwing at him and there was also an apparent euphoria—however timid and subtle it seemed—etched on his face.

"You look different." she whispered as they walked towards the gathering crowd at the end of the docks.

He took her hand and smirked. "Good or bad?"

She shrugged. "It suits you."

(Always You Recede Through The Evenings)

Chivy took off her sunglasses and made her way towards the crowded beach. Some did in fact stare at her as it was already summer time in Four and she was still covered in thick black leather with her purple hair not giving much help to cool her facade down.

But their opinions didn't matter at this moment, Chivy thought. And they knew that too. Because aside from making her sweaty all over, the leather clothing she was wearing also branded her as a town visitor and town visitors for Four only meant someone from the Capitol. And she knew, not everyone in Four liked the Capitol.

So instead she continued walking, pacing the grounds, until she saw that familiar bronze hair. Again, she had recognized him immediately; still somewhat surprised that he had actually let children run along and play with him with Annie laughing alongside their small group. As she watched them, Chivy pondered on how foreign this scenario looked—Finnick laughing, Finnick with kids, Finnick looking absolutely contented. Then again, Chivy thought, he was at home. And when he was, it was as if she barely knew him at all.

She stood not too far from where Finnick and his friends had settled themselves, some of the children now sitting atop boulders and crouching on the sand and other adults were now joining their small collection. She recognized Johnny Pearson, who had just been recently announced as this year's winner, and Elizabeth Fisher—whose father was once a famous fisherman in Four, personally awarded by the President himself. There was also Danny Cross, tall but quite stocky as she had imagined, the endless times Finnick had talked about him, and a blonde haired girl whom she did not recognize.

She didn't want to intrude lest Finnick makes a scene in front of the cheery crowd. Her intrusion might also lead to some questions she—and Finnick—weren't ready to answer. But time was wasting now though. He had to be travelling soon or he'll miss his appointment.

Chivy tried to get his attention—tried to catch his eye. She wouldn't dare go to their circle and approach him. The least Chivy could do was to give him an illusion of privacy for some more moment before the Capitol takes it away again. So instead, she positioned herself directly on his view. And like a hawk, she watched his every movement, waiting for that one glimpse he had to do to before playtime was over.

Finnick pretended not to notice even if he had indeed seen her the moment he walked out of the shack, her purple hair standing out among the brunettes and blondes of Four. But the initial annoyance he felt the moment he had glimpsed Chivy Dweller's hair was slowly becoming the panic that was all too familiar for him—and how this had caught him off-guard.

What did they want?

Or now that he realized it (with a slow shiver running down his spine), what had he done?

Then not a moment too long after, as if he couldn't pretend anymore, knowing deep in her heart he was just feigning not to notice her so he could drag out the time he had with his friends, there it was. He flinched, ever so slightly so as not to be noticed by anyone. But like a knife, he pierced her. His friends were still animatedly chatting (Johnny and the blonde seemed to be arguing), but his gaze was fixated on her, knowing fully what was to happen next. Chivy knew how much he hated the reality she brought along with her. And just by still looking at him, she knew how much he must hate her too.

"What is she doing here?"

Johnny whispered behind him as he still stared at Chivy. Finnick shrugged, pretending he didn't have any idea. Annie and the others were now sitting on the beach sand, Linda still fuming after a brief argument with Johnny on the rules of the Haul.

"You weren't supposed to stay in one place." she huffed then.

"The wind was not on my side! You can't control the tides too, Simmons. It's not my problem I it took me on that spot of the sea where all of those fish happen to live."

"You were supposed to be navigating."

"The Haul's not a boating competition."

When finally Danny interrupted and put a halt into the conversation (Johnny didn't do anything that wasn't allowed in the rule book, he confirmed), Finnick couldn't take the prickly feeling on his back anymore as he knew Chivy would still be staring at him. So he challenged her back and finally stared directly at her.

What do you want?

"Does she want something?" Johnny insisted.

Reluctant to face his best friend and have him see his fear, Finnick then said the only words he knew too well. "I don't know."

"Well might as well invite her? She might want to join us for the Bonfire."

He shook he said and finally turned to face Johnny. "I highly doubt that."

With a frown and a shrug, Johnny retreated to their friends. As he did, Finnick followed suit too. But instead of sitting down as what Johnny did, he veered Annie away and blocked her view from the escort, separating them as well from their small party.

"What is it?" she smiled. And how she took his breath away yet again—her green eyes bright and reflecting the soon setting sun. She was quiet during the entirety of the debacle between Linda and Johnny but her face was aglow with joy he couldn't keep his eyes off her, not even when he felt Danny nudging him to finally stop staring.

He was ready to say it. So, so ready. But in this moment as he took her aside, there was a certain ache in his chest he knew wasn't simply because of Chivy's presence. The ache he felt was like a sudden defeat. Defeat in the thought that he could have made all the difference tonight but knowing somehow too that he couldn't. He thought of how he would be betraying her again for countless times now and realizing how he could ever forgive himself after.

So how can he say it? Worse, how can he make her believe it?

"You look beautiful." was all he said, thinking it wasn't any less true. "I think I haven't complimented you on that aspect yet."

She blushed. "That's not necessary."

"Well, but you are."

"Necessary or beautiful?"

"Would you snap at me if I say both?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Okay, Odair, what is this?"

He managed to laugh. "You know me too well, don't you?"

"I always take the second guess, but yes. I'd like to believe I still know you."

Finnick sighed and took her hand. "Chivy's here."

"The escort?"

He can only nod.

"What does she want?" Annie stilled. He felt her hand begin to tremble and he could see too at how much she was fighting it.

"Don't worry about it," Finnick explained, gripping her hand tightly. "She might just want to talk about Capitol schedules again. You know... beauty regimens. I could probably use a good shampoo."

He ruffled his hair for emphasis, trying to look not at all worried and making her feel as if it was going to be okay—but then telling himself of the same things.

"And she really had to do this today? At the Bonfire?"

"Well," Finnick turned to finally look at Chivy who was still dutifully looking back at him. She had her arms crossed this time and he thought of how much such she really stood out like a thorn among the calm folks of Four. "Technically, it's not yet the Bonfire."

When he looked back at Annie, she was also now curiously staring at Chivy but she managed a small smile to his relief. Pulling her aside once more, he tucked in strands of her hair behind her ear and prayed that this moment would not be the last of the Bonfire for him.

"I'll just check up on her, is that okay?"

Annie shook her head, frowning slightly. "You don't need to ask my permission."

"Well, we are on a date."

"Yeah, but you don't need to ask me, Finnick."

"You know I need to ask you." he finalized. For a moment they just stared at each other—she, still frowning at him, and he, with such longing for her. And wanting nothing but to hear her words of assurance, he asked her once again—quiet and hopeful. "You trust me?"

Annie didn't respond as quickly as he had hoped and somewhere between those moments, Finnick felt her hesitations and doubts.

"Yes, I trust you." she whispered back shortly.

Not the least bit satisfied at how she said it and more so at how she looked—with that same stoic expression on her face—Finnick relieved himself in the thought that maybe he just needed to do his part as well, the same way he was asking her to do hers. He knew he had to trust her too.

So he gave her a nod instead and buried his thoughts of doubts deep inside his brain. Then with a final but playful pinch on Annie's cheeks, he managed to walk away from her and then pausing for a moment to say goodbye to the others. As he did, he saw Annie following him albeit stopping to sit beside Linda. But when Finnick thought he finally was able to get away unscathed, it was Johnny who didn't take it lightly. And in some ways, it didn't actually surprise him.

"You're leaving?" Johnny exclaimed. "But what about the Bonfire?"

Finnick stiffened. He didn't know what to say. What was he supposed to say? Behind him, he felt Chivy approaching, ready to interfere and flash out her claws. He knew she would have to be rude and unforgiving so they could get away from the situation without divulging anything. But he didn't need her help, and more importantly, he didn't want her dealing with his friends.

"You'd still come back right?" urged Johnny.

So even if it pained him, even if it was so wrong, he did what he knew best. Slowly, as if watching from afar, he was unbecoming himself. He didn't know all of a sudden who possessed him. He didn't know if it was another person speaking for him. All Finnick knew, before Chivy could even reach him, was that his lips spoke of the words that shook the foundation he had built painstakingly with Annie today. In his own thoughts he wished he just didn't say anything, he wished he had the strength to just walk away. But to complete his cover, he knew he needed to lie to them—to her.

"Of course, I'll be back." he smiled.

But Finnick felt odd with that smile knowing it was the same one that brought him in this dilemma in the first place, the smile that attracted all those Capitol traders. And for all the unfairness that was surely about to come, he also knew that this smile caused him to ultimately lose Annie so many years ago, when he first appeared on the Capitol stage as a Victor. And then somewhere between that smile and as he waved his goodbye—as he turned his back on them but in his mind he still saw Annie's blank expression—something hit him squarely on the chest, tingling painfully and unfairly throbbing. He had known that this was it, it was done.

It was over.

(My Soul Winged and Wounded)

Finnick was quiet during the entire trip from the beach to his house and Chivy was glad that he was. She couldn't deal with his words the same way she knew he couldn't deal with hers. But the moment they were finally in his bedroom and started packing away some clothes, Finnick's wrath came about on his bathroom mirror, colliding his fist with it several times until it broke into little pieces.

"Would you like me to help you with your wound or would you rather destroy your other belongings first?" she snapped at him.

Finnick didn't bother to reply and continued throwing things inside the suitcase on his bed. He didn't mind too that his right hand was now profusely bleeding from a cut and that it left blood drips on his floor. He was angrily going back and forth—closet, bed, bathroom, bed, closet, bed—unmindful of what he was packing.

"Look," Chivy finally sighed. "We need to get your hands fixed. Your patron wouldn't like to see that."

Finnick halted in his pace and then glared at her. "Do you actually think I care about what they think?"

"Finnick..."

"Why now, Chivy? Why now and why not tomorrow or next week? They promised me the Bonfire!"

Chivy actually managed to laugh this time. He was still such a boy. And for a while, she actually hated herself for allowing this to happen to him. "How could you even believe they would keep their promises, Finnick?"

She crossed the room towards the bathroom and managed to get his first aid kit, avoiding the debris along the way. Finnick was still breathing heavily, staring at his suitcase and hand still bloodied all over. Without asking, she took his hand and wiped the blood away with fresh cotton and antiseptic. He winced slightly when she wiped past the cut.

"It's not deep. You'll survive." she tried to kid. He turned to look at his wound, blinking as if in a trance with the small amount of blood coming out.

"You always say that I'll survive." he murmured.

Finally wrapping gauze on his wound, Chivy snorted. "Would you rather I said you'll die?"

"That'll be easier."

"For whom, Finnick?" she rolled her eyes. "For the Capitol?"

"No, for me."

"Not for Annie, I bet."

She felt him stilled and his anger flared once more, pulling his hand out from her grip and turning his back instead to zip the filled suitcase. "Don't you dare say her name."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to taint it."

"I don't need you to be smart about this, Chivy." Finnick lashed out. "There's nothing poetic or romantic about this."

"Who said anything about those, Finnick?" she returned the kit to the bathroom drawer and when finally in the bedroom again, Chivy paused for a moment to appraise her Victor—tall, bronzed hair, handsome, smart, slightly scathed but he'll do—as a necessary part of her job. She needed to deliver him in all his perfection. But on a day like this, she wanted to believe that she was more than the escort of District Four. Even if the rest of them branded her as a Capitol citizen, she wanted to believe she wasn't anyone like those animals in the city.

Chivy believed that what her Victors needed were friends. And she was trying to be one for Finnick right now. And knowing Finnick, in her own little way, she knew he didn't need any more preambles to prepare him for what he was to face again. Ignoring the fact that it was way too honest, perhaps especially to his still young and rebellious self—a teenage boy amidst all the confusion, and the angst, and of a first love—she said it so anyway, right before he was about to exit his bedroom.

"This is not a love sonnet, darling." Realizing it couldn't get any worse, she continued. "This is a tragedy."

Finnick left Chivy in his room, not caring if there were still blood splatters and broken mirror on the floor. He didn't care either if Chivy would clean it up or if she'd let it all alone too. Grudgingly, not letting the sting from his wounded hand bother him, he pulled his suitcase behind him, letting it thump all the way down the stairs.

Accepting this routine of his was getting easier and easier the more frequent he got to visit the Capitol. But it did not mean he liked it. He wanted nothing more than just get it all over with, anticipating that ride home in the next few days, anticipating of what Annie would say to him when he asks for forgiveness, again.

Swinging his front door open and crossing his porch, Finnick almost overlooked the elderly woman sitting in one of the chairs. He stopped abruptly and sighed, slightly feeling relieved with her presence.

"Mags."

He watched as she stood up and walked towards him, reaching for his arms for support. He willingly allowed her to do so. When she was finally stable on her feet, and as she had done so many times before—whenever he needed to attend to his trades, when he first woke up that one morning and dreamt of the fellow tributes he had killed during the Games, when he realized he didn't have a family except for her—Mags slowly caressed his face, exchanging unspoken words with him, blue eyes that read his green ones so easily. Finnick knew she'd be the only one who could understand this kind of pain.

"I'm sorry..." he managed to whisper, wanting nothing more than to let Mags know—even if in some ways, he knew that he didn't need to say anything. "For Annie..."

"She'll understand." Mags replied firmly.

"How can she?"

She smiled sadly, still caressing his face. "You just have to trust that she will."

Grasping her hand that held his face, Finnick closed his eyes, knowing too that Mags had noticed his wounded hand but didn't say anything. Instead, she let him weep. And he was grateful.

At passing, Finnick thought if this scenario would have been easier if Annie was the one on his side; if she was the one holding his face at this moment and saying that everything would be alright.

But a low punch to the gut told him otherwise. He knew it was impossible. Telling Annie the truth about his trades would make her hate him—will make her disgusted with him. And he had long established that he didn't want Annie to hate him; he wanted her to love him back if she could. If she would allow it.

Opening his eyes, Finnick tried to smile, forcing his lips to make that upward curve. "Here we go again, isn't it?"

"We do what we have to do, Finnick. Even if it complicates things." said Mags. "But you've almost changed something tonight, didn't you?"

Finnick snorted, "That's the thing, isn't? I almost did, but I didn't."

He suddenly realized how unfair the word almost was. He'd almost had it with her, he'd almost made his life better, he'd almost said that he loved her...

But heavens, he didn't.

"I was so, so close to telling her." Finnick continued, feeling the regret and the defeat all over again.

"You can always think of other ways." Mags smiled encouragingly at him.

"Not after this, I can't." He motioned to what he was about to do, to the suitcase just behind him, to the waiting car parked in front of the house. And fittingly, in the background, they could already hear Chivy climbing down the stairs, bombarding a slew of words only she can say.

"... this tardiness would cost me a lot, you know. You do realize, Finnick, that I have to tell the officers to double the speed of the train so we could make it? Are you even listening—Oh, hello Mags."

"Hello, Chivy."

They shared grim smiles for a while before Chivy continued past them, snatching a quick look towards him but generously giving him this moment with Mags. "Better hurry up."

With one last look at Mags, seeing the crinkles at the side of her eyes, the soft lines on her forehead, the calloused feel of her hands on his cheeks—the same hands that will comfort Annie after this night—Finnick pulled his suitcase and finally let her go, knowing he didn't have any other option. Slowly, he climbed down the porch and then to the car where Chivy was now in the driver's seat, tapping her fingers impatiently at the wheel.

After securing his things inside the trunk, and with a final nod—like a silent agreement between him and Mags, as if she was reading his mind and giving him some consolation: we'll figure this out when you come back—Finnick waved his hands to say goodbye.

"So what do you think that was all about?" Johnny asked her. They were still at the beach, watching as the sun was already setting down. The kids have longed left them on their own, tagging along with their mothers as they went on their way home for dinner. Several torches lighted the beach but just in the middle of the strip, the huge fire pit was already ready for Johnny to light up any moment now.

Annie and the others were still patiently waiting for Finnick and beside her she knew that Johnny was already anxious. He will light the Bonfire anytime now and it would be such a pity for Finnick to miss it, most especially when Johnny was the one in the limelight this time around.

"I don't know," Annie finally replied. "He said Chivy might discuss schedules with him."

"Schedules? Oh," Johnny scratched his head. "Right. He'll be busy again in the next weeks."

Annie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The Games. It's in two weeks, Annie."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She had forgotten about it. Surprisingly, it didn't even cross her mind since she had been with Finnick.

"I'm actually not too terrified of it now, would you believe it?" Johnny added, smiling despite himself.

On the other side of Annie, lying on the blanket, Linda snorted. "No, I can't, honestly."

Annie watched as Johnny rolled his eyes and made a face.

"Someday," Annie teased. "The two of you might find yourselves in a sticky situation and be surprised at how much of a team you could be."

"If you're talking about the Games..." Johnny started.

"No," Annie laughed, cutting him off. "Marriage."

"Eww!" Linda slapped her arm.

"Over my dead body, Cresta!" the other blonde retorted at her. "I'd rather die."

"Again," Annie reiterated. "You could surprise people."

"I'd be surprised if he does survive the Games."

"That's not funny, Simmons."

"You're not funny either, Pearson."

"Arguing again?" Danny was walking towards them and hand in hand with Elizabeth, back from their stroll. They were watching the couple before Linda decided to lie down.

"Can't think of anything else they could do." Annie kidded.

"You know that gets tiring, right?" said Elizabeth, snuggling herself between Johnny and Annie and looping her arm around hers. Danny sat on the other side of Johnny.

"I never start it, you know." Johnny argued.

"Like you how you never win any argument?" Linda taunted.

"Tell that to yourself, Linda."

"I can't. I never lie to myself."

"Kids," Danny said, annoyed. "Stop, please."

Annie couldn't help but let a laugh escape, Elizabeth joining her.

"You know that this kind of hatred towards each other only leads to one thing, right?" Danny continued.

"What?" Johnny snapped.

With a laugh, Danny replied, "Marriage."

"That's what I said!"

"Okay," Linda sat up, "This is getting ridiculous. I will never, like ever, marry that airhead."

"Okay, keep telling yourself that," Johnny laughed. "Pea-brain."

"Maybe we should already set a date?" Elizabeth kidded. "Why not this next spring? We'd have plenty of flowers by then for the bouquet?"

"Wild flowers are lovely." Annie joined in, ignoring the grimace on Linda's face.

"Well then, should we tell Mr. Gray that he'd have another ceremony to lead after mine and Lizzie's?" Danny added, jokingly shaking Johnny by the shoulder.

"Whatever."

"Speaking of marriages," Linda scoffed but then looked elated. "Are you excited with yours, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth laughed heartily. "Not more than Danny."

"Why shouldn't I be?" he said then, giving Elizabeth a glowing look. "I'd get to marry you."

Annie shook her head and smiled, unable to resist feeling joyous for Danny and Elizabeth even if it was a tad bit too sweet for her. Still, watching them a while ago, as they tread the long stretch of the beach, Annie had felt her chest swell with happiness because it was such a scene—the way Danny looked at Elizabeth like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or the way Elizabeth smiled—so genuine, so affectionate—like she only wanted Danny to see it.

"Okay, I might just barf." Johnny teased.

"Say what you will, Pearson." Danny retaliated all the while lying on the sand. "But once you've come into the same position as me, you'd swallow back your words."

"Seriously," Linda rolled her eyes. "We should start planning. I would love to be a part of it."

"Of course you'll be a part of it." Elizabeth confirmed. "You and Annie, both. Johnny would take part as well, right?" She now eyed the curly blonde with an eyebrow raised.

"As long as I'm not the one getting married." Johnny agreed, receiving a playful shove from Danny.

They were silent for a while, with Danny still lying and whistling a tuneless melody. Johnny was now playing with a random twig he picked up and Elizabeth stared blankly at the now dark blue sky with only the remnants of the sun evident in the pink and orange clouds from afar.

From the nearby dock, a silhouette was approaching them—tall and familiar. David was carefully treading the beach sand, not at all masking the bored and rather uninterested expression on his face. Annie thought he must be angry with her. She didn't even have the chance to decline his invitation. Instead, she totally disregarded it. So Annie gave him a small and apologetic smile as he finally neared, wishing that she would have a chance to explain soon enough. He smiled back and nodded to her relief albeit taking his eyes off her immediately and turned towards Johnny.

"Hey, Pearson." David said. "It's time." With a nod to the rest of their group, David left quickly. Not even waiting if, indeed, Johnny had followed him.

"I think that's my cue." said Johnny soon after as he stood up. He gave them a mock salute and a bow (Elizabeth laughed) before walking away. But not a second too long, Johnny stopped and turned around, with a frown on his face. "I know Finnick's running late, but I'd really like to run my speech with him before the ceremony. Would you tell him to meet me there at the pit if he returns?"

"When he returns." Danny corrected as he sat up. "Sure, I'll tell him."

Annie tried to ignore the sudden tug she felt but not at all ignorant on the slightly tighter grip Elizabeth now had on her arms or of Linda's equally tight smile. She didn't dare look back at either of them but continued to gaze on the horizon.

Breathing hard, she told herself that today was going to be different and she knew that Finnick will come back, just as he promised. Still without glancing back at her friends, she heard Danny voice her thoughts, easing some of that doubt she knew they all felt.

"I'm sure he'll return."

Annie smiled as he said it. She wasn't entirely certain of it, but that was all she could hope for.

(My Heart Broke Loose on the Wind)

"So he left?"

"What?"

"Odair." David grumbled as he helped Johnny set up the torch he'll use for the lighting ceremony. "I saw him leave."

"Chivy Dweller came by." Johnny nodded at him. "Looks important."

"What about Annie?" he could not help himself from asking.

"What about her?"

"Aren't they... together?"

Johnny didn't respond but took the torch away from him instead, grabbing a matchbox in the process. The blonde ogled nonsensically at the equipment on his hand.

"I mean," David argued, resting his hands on his waist. "Why would he leave?"

Johnny looked stern (possibly irritated with the way he'd been interfering) but then exhaled. "Look, Gray. Maybe you should think broader about it, you know, like the world does not revolve around District Four. And maybe, there are more important things than the Bonfire right now."

David believed that because it was true. He was not ignorant with what was going to happen in the next weeks. The Hunger Games will be Finnick's business, as usual. But what could not escape him was Annie.

"And so he just left her?"

"He didn't just leave her." Johnny rolled his eyes. "He'll be back for the Bonfire."

David wanted to laugh at that. Far from him although still in sight, he could see Annie right where she was sitting for the past few hours with her friends. Their number didn't seem to grow and it was apparent that Finnick was not there. He wanted to tease Johnny for the false hope from Odair but as he looked back, the blonde was also staring at his friends, frowning and searching.

"Well," David cleared his throat, pulling himself away from that thought and noticing several Four guards approaching them finally. "You better hope he's somewhere in there because you're about to light the bonfire."

Johnny huffed seeing the nearing District Guards as well.

For a moment there, David actually felt bad for him. For the first time since Finnick won the Games, Johnny finally had the spotlight and not at all inside the shadows of Finnick Odair—and it was a pity that the Victor wasn't even there to witness it.

David watched as the guards pulled Johnny away and whispered last minute instructions. Then with the sound of the drums, the people scattered on the beach started to close in on the pit, some with torches or sparklers of their own. He saw Annie and Linda among the sea of people with Danny and Elizabeth following them from behind.

And then fittingly, as if rubbing more salt to the wound that was this day, Annie stood right directly in front of him, the unlit bonfire between them. Their eyes met and he thought she froze for a moment, caught-off guard, but then relaxed and quickly gave him another one of her small smiles. Despite feeling so undefeated and disappointed—with her, with himself—he smiled back, even if realizing at this point at how truly he felt horrible that this day ever happened and that even if Finnick was nowhere in sight, staring back at Annie didn't get easier.

Slightly nearer to the pit and taking his eyes off away from her, possibly for the first time the whole afternoon, he saw Johnny taking his place accompanied by two District Guards. Everywhere else, the people started to settle as well—tiptoeing to view the pit, squirming between bodies to get a good view.

He looked nervous, David thought. Johnny had some sweat forming on his forehead illuminated by the fiery torch in his hand. He gulped once in a while before clearing his throat, looking around nervously, before starting to speak.

"As... as this summer night ends," Johnny stuttered to the crowd as he read off from a piece of paper from his other hand. "We remember those whom we have lost during the Last War; of how they fought for what they believed in and of how they trusted no one else but themselves. Let this fire remind us of that courage—that even in the face of defeat, we can conquer. Let this fire lighten our way towards the righteous path where there is no fear, or defects, or decay. Let this fire, the fire within the sea masters of District Four, prove that even all the unchartered waters cannot extinguish the flame of life within every soul..."

The ceremony was becoming poignant (as it always did) and David would give it to Johnny for writing such an opening. He was quite wary of the guards who stood still amidst the melancholy crowd but David knew, with a slight confidence and swell in his chest, that the Bonfire Haul was this little piece of time in Panem only District Four owned. And David thought that outsiders didn't matter and didn't belong at least for this night. He only hoped that Johnny wouldn't cross the line and mention the Capitol lest he wanted a beating. Nonetheless, as he listened as Johnny was finishing his speech, the fortunate Haul winner looked even more and more confident that David was certain if the guards reprimanded him, it seemed like he wouldn't care.

"... even if people become unforgiving or unfair; even if at times you find yourself disappointed and discouraged, don't be. If you think that you don't matter to anyone, so what? Let yourself matter to you. Because you are here today, and every day you have the chance to be better—to be great. So I say to all of you—my acquaintances, my friends, my family—start living. Because when you do, you will be a fire that will forever be ablaze."

The crowd remained silent as Johnny proceeded with the ritual. He finally lighted the bonfire, going around the huge pit and once in a while poking his torch on the logs to set it on fire. When the entirety of the pit was finally crackling and the huge fire lighted the dark beach, everyone erupted into applause, cueing the band to start beating their drums and cymbals and strum some guitars. Familiar music started to fill the shore and the others now started to throw in their own torches all the while bringing in bread and meat for the customary roasting.

Still in view from where he was (as he ignored the laughter and the jokes beginning to envelop him), David watched as Linda started with her own roast and handed her best friend her own piece of bread. He thought Annie looked lovely—how the fire made her hair look more like a deep reddish brown and how the warmth also subtly put color on her cheeks—even if he was so sure that she was waiting for Finnick, what with her glancing every now and then to the distant shore or sometimes to the now full docks, possibly expecting Finnick to appear in any second.

In the pit of his stomach, David felt that same sadness and embarrassment that tormented him for so many days now. And yet as he stared at her, even if painfully so, he wanted to punch himself for even thinking of how he wanted her to search for him the way she was now looking for any signs of Finnick. Breathing hard, David urged himself to get away and distance himself finally from the crowd and most especially from Annie, disappointed though at the fact that he hated this waiting game with her but at the same time knowing deep inside of how much he could foolishly stare at her all night and wonder when he can ever stop.

He walked through the less crowded side of the beach, wanting to at least forget about Annie and this day and mend something in him he knew was hurting. He sat on the farthest part of the dock, more darkened yet quieter, and started to pray for some miracle to happen: whether to forget about Finnick and Annie or to finally find that resolve that perhaps, he was not the one meant to be; that in the scheme of things, he was the one on the background.

So he found it curious (albeit arousing something inside him)—in the quietness of this spot, wondering too if his hearing was playing games on him, as he sat more firmly, searching for that noise and then there—somewhere in the distant, so familiar and yet so foreign at this time of the night, a bullet train sped off soundly from the District Four station, vibrating and roaring furiously as it did—rattling as if wanting to shake his footprints on the sand or possibly disrupt the quiet breathing of those who chose this melancholy side of the beach with him.

David tried to lean unto something despite the nothingness that surrounded him, wanting to grab a hold of a wall, or a branch, or a tree—something—and ensure that he wasn't becoming delirious; because a train speeding off at this time was so, so curious and yet so appropriate; the rattling was still suspended in the air, making him realize how there never was a time he had loved the sound of it any more than this night.

But as Annie would have it, as she took her gaze away from the now lit bonfire and looked up at the moon waning behind the thick clouds—as she still waited for Finnick to finally show up—she felt as if the train tracks—hooting and charging at the wind—began and ended right where she was standing on the beach, quivering to wake her from the dream she let herself believe to be real.

(So At Last You Sleep In The Circle Of My Arms)

"What the fuck?"

Finnick entered the room and slammed the door shut, unafraid of the noise it would make and of the possible remarks from the neighbors. He was even barely aware of the dimmed lights and the smell of bitter tea as there was only one thing on his mind at the moment. He was not supposed to be there.

He arrived in the Capitol just in time. Klaus DeMonch was already waiting on the platform as he always did whenever Finnick had to attend his trades. He apologized for the short notice, overlooking the promise he made in his letter about Finnick's assured attendance for the Bonfire, but insisted that his trader for tonight was of important position and was one of his regulars. So he did not need to be nervous at his appearance—glancing so quickly on Finnick's wrapped hand. Then with nothing but a curt nod, DeMonch left quickly, jotting down notes on his notebook as he did.

"Calm down." The other person in the room finally spoke, unperturbed and continued to stir on the sickly hot tea presumably for the two of them. But Finnick was impatient. How could he calm down?

He strode the short distance and grabbed her arm—violet in the darkened lights, cold but familiar—and swung his hostess to face him.

"Why Analeigh? Why are you doing this to me?"

Without a bat of an eyelid or a twitch of an eyebrow, Analeigh Whisparks spoke of the one truth he knew all along—the one he kept at bay and denied all throughout his trip.

It was his doing. It was his fault.

"Finnick, I just saved you from ruining Annie Cresta's life."

It seemed like the wind turned colder by the minute. People were dispersing and the West Beach suddenly became eerie and bleak—a contrast to its warm and familiar atmosphere during the Bonfire. A District guard was addressing everyone to pack up and clean the mess while his partner, Annie assumed, was hosing down the large fire pit Johnny ceremoniously lit.

This was it.

Another day was dawning and yet Annie felt as if her day hadn't even started yet. And how funny was it for her to even think this day could possibly be great. Linda had longed since left her (albeit insisting for a while that she should come with her), wanting to have an early tuck-in in favor for an early morning rouse with Elizabeth and the wedding planning the next day.

Danny decided to close the shack while Elizabeth headed home, all used plates and tumblers packed inside the basket for her to clean.

Johnny was the only one who patiently sat by her side for a couple more minutes, knowing that like her, he was still mourning the fact that Finnick wasn't with them to celebrate the Bonfire. They were both quiet but Annie assumed that the silence comforted them. She didn't have any idea on how to console Johnny in the same way he might not know how to console her. Together, they felt miserable.

Annie wanted to think that it was not Finnick's fault. She tried to reason for his absence but couldn't quite put it together. He couldn't have known that Chivy Dweller would come by, could he? And he did say he wanted to spend the festival with her and Annie didn't doubt his elation when Johnny won.

Maybe he got stuck in a meeting with Chivy for the Games, she thought. Maybe it was a strategy he needed to do in order to secure a win for Four. Maybe he wanted to go back but he couldn't. Maybe a few minutes after the meeting he already wanted to go back but Chivy didn't allow him. Maybe she didn't give him any choice—but why wouldn't she give him a choice? Everyone loved to be on the good side of Finnick. He was important (something she had vaguely recognized up until that point) to Panem. He was Finnick Odair.

Then there it was. Those two simple words that made Annie go back to square one. Finnick Odair.

He was everything she remembered him to be when this day had started—shy yet confident, funny but smart—then slowly becoming something much more as the day progressed. So much so that quite suddenly, as he departed the beach with that bright yet disconcerting smile, she started to realize she could have spent the entire day with a stranger. And it was as if she could hear the awful words of the market vendors and the fishermen once again, words that traveled with the salty winds of Four, faint but still there.

Three women, last I heard.

'Says there were five.

He's a piece of work, I tell you that.

Munching down the Capitol people like they're meat.

I hope he'd have his feast in here sometimes.

Was she first on his list, then?

Around her the beach grew darker as there were now lesser lit torches and the fire pit now crackled down to nothing but a hiss. Struggling like her but recoiling too soon, Johnny started to move and stood up.

"He's not coming back, Annie."

"I guess not."

"Do you want to try his house?"

Annie wanted to laugh. She had this feeling he won't be there either and she didn't feel like wanting to see him now. She only felt stupid. She felt stupid and used and she can't seem to do anything but recollect everything that had happened since this morning, even if it seemed like a thousand years ago.

She wished, she hoped, she prayed that he would turn up, not just because he was Finnick and he was her friend, but because she didn't want to hate him for not turning up at all. Annie didn't want to be disappointed in him— not again—not when she thought they were rebuilding a semblance of friendship; not when everything was so undecided and unsure given the events in the next weeks.

Because she knew, if the odds weren't in her favor, she'd have to face him. And facing him after this was worse than being in the Games. Annie couldn't help but think of how naive she must look to him. How shallow and how desperate she might had been falling into his mock invitation.

He was a good actor, Annie thought. He was the Finnick Odair.

"No." Annie finally able to reply. She didn't dare look at Johnny, worried that she might see the same resentment on his face—worse, the acceptance that very much well dawned on him.

"I'm sure he's just caught up in something."

"Maybe."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"For a little while, yes."

He crouched down once again beside her. "Are you sure? I mean it's late..."

"I'll be fine, Johnny."

Leaving her with a nod and a soft pat on the shoulder, Johnny walked away. And as he did, she finally couldn't help let a small sob escape. She hoped she could be more like Johnny—more forgiving, more hopeful, more trusting.

Didn't he just ask her to be that? To be trusting?

"You trust me?"

But how can she trust someone she didn't know? He was not the same Finnick she knew. He might still look like him, but she barely knew him at all.

Annie cried—of embarrassment, of sadness, of hopelessness. She wanted to cry for the lost Finnick probably taken away by the heavy waves of the Capitol. She wanted to cry for his parents and for her mother and for the other lives ruined by the selfish world they all live in.

She let slip a tear and felt it run down her cheeks, thinking it was the only thing she could allow herself to do because she was just so tired of waiting for him; accepting now, fully, that Finnick wouldn't come and that he never will.

But unknown to her, somewhere a few feet away, a young man with probably the same sentiments as her, and not because of Finnick but because of her, thought otherwise. There were a lot of things to do; a lot of things to fix. Hesitant at first but thinking this was another chance for him and he was not going to ruin it because if he choked, if he hesitated, it was over...

So not again, not this time.

"Annie?" David finally said as he neared.

Annie looked up at him, surprised; slightly alarmed perhaps because of her ashen and tear-stricken face.

"What are you doing here?" he pretended not to know but of course he knew.

She gave him a smile and a small shrug. She looked back into the ocean and did not speak.

David didn't know what to do at first and knowing too that he wasn't the person she was waiting for. But that shouldn't stop him, shouldn't it? He was the one who showed up after all. Not Finnick.

"I know it's rude to pry on other people's business," David finally continued. "But it seems to me that you look rather un-picturesque here."

No response.

"It's getting late." Which was true. "Are you waiting for someone?" she flinched but did not budge.

David sighed.

Looking down at her fixated gaze in the ocean, it was as if she'd rather be with the waves than with him. It could possibly even be true. David currently didn't have any idea what was going through inside that lovely head of hers. If he were to ask himself several years ago, he would have thought that that he'd only have such a chance with her. He wasn't a Finnick Odair. But as he had observed her throughout the afternoon, he knew. He knew, finally and fittingly, that he could do something; because Annie, with her warmth and cheerfulness gone because of the cold, needed only one thing.

Not wasting any more time as he had done so, so many times, David crouched down to meet her at eye level, he offered a smile, a hand...

"Let's go home?"

It wasn't a mere question. It was an invitation. An invitation long overdue; an invitation thwarted on the side by Finnick Odair on that night at the porch.

David knew, as Annie finally snapped out from her reverie and looked at him clearly for the first time that night, he knew he had this one weapon Finnick didn't possess: Certainty.

Annie grabbed his hand as he helped her up. He clasped it tightly, not to mark his territory but to simply keep her close by, David thought of a silent thank you to whoever it was up there because finally, finally, finally, he did it.

Still not letting her hand go (and wishing she wouldn't for the succeeding days, months, and years), he and Annie walked hand-in-hand along the cold and darkened West Beach, grasping perhaps on the only hope they had at the moment. And David thought that anyone who was left cleaning up the debris of the Bonfire Haul would probably overlook their almost strained appearance—her watery eyes, his pulsating and trembling temples—as they would only probably allude this vision of them, a lovely couple walking side by side on the shore, as something most fitting to top such an eventful day.

Although despite this, with a low grumble and a swift brush of cold wind, it started to rain.

A/N: So after almost two years of no updates, I've finally made it. Reviews would be very welcome. :)