𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 ᐅ 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙞𝙧

𝙏𝙀𝙉

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊰⌍
He couldn't know what I
thought of him before
I'd even decided myself.
⌎⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⇲⊰⌏

I'd been curled up in a blanket in the lounge carriage for hours, head on the arm of the sofa and eyes tracing the stars gliding past my vision. Back in District Five, there were no stars to gaze upon — they were covered in a thick blanket of pollution. I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw them. I was jealous. The entirety of Panem had been able to admire their glow, pretend they were among them and free from the iron bars they were trapped behind.

But now I could.

And so I did. I wasn't sure what time it was, but the drooping of my eyelids and pounding of my head suggested it was way past the time I should've been asleep. But I never slept anymore. How could I when it guaranteed nightmares? But I willed myself not to think of them as I watched the gemstones in the sky twinkle down at me through a void, raven sky.

It was four days later since my visit to District Eight was particularly lengthy; my days were filled with different responsibilities, which left me hardly any time to take a break. But I liked that. It meant I wouldn't be confined to my thoughts as I was now. The rest of my team, including Finnick, hadn't been there for most of my journey, however the ball last night gave many people much to talk about. It wasn't that Finnick and I did anything scandalous per se, we just spent the entire night regrettably talking to one another. But the more I spoke with him, the more I was confused by him — by his bright smile and amused eyes and the premise that he may not actually be the monster I told him he was.

It was bravado. An act for the Capitol. And I knew better than anyone what that felt like.

"Can't sleep?" a soft voice asked from the other end of the carriage.

"What's new?"

Tiredness took over me and I couldn't bring myself to speak loudly, so my voice was so quiet I wasn't sure he even heard me at all.

I didn't allow myself to glance at him as he sank into the armchair adjacent to me, assuming he already glowed in the moonlight. And he probably did. He always did no matter where you put him — it was a surprise he didn't become a beacon in the pitch dark. Metaphorically speaking, he was. His optimism shone through my pessimism in such a way that made me grit my teeth and send glares his way most days, and it was a wonder he didn't suddenly burst into light and blind me.

"I've always wondered," he said after a while,"what is it with you and being a tree hugger?"

I followed his gaze to the potted plants decorating the room — I'd requested them on the first day, and they were probably the only things I'd asked for. There were so many different kinds I'd memorised the names for: Spider Plant, Peace Lily, Aloe Vera, Jade Plant, African Violet and a Baby Rubber Plant. I watered them as much as I dared, and left them in direct sunlight, although I couldn't at the moment.

"I've never had them before," I said simply. "Well, you know we didn't have any plants in District Five. If we did they'd probably die of the nuclear and carbon emissions anyway."

"It sounds very dull."

I gave a small laugh, but it was clouded by exhaustion and barely sounded like I'd made a noise at all. "It's not District Seven by any means."

"I thought as much when I saw it."

"I'm not in the mood to be insulted."

"I wasn't going to," he whispered gently.

I never knew what to make of him. My opinion changed day after day — he was a monster, then irritating, then friendly, then annoying again. Damn him for confusing me so much. How could one person stick in my head like this? I never even thought of Snow as often as I did Finnick, and I hated him for it. I hated that he was always there, whether it be physically or in the form of my thoughts.