Seafoam and Stars

▬▬ 𝟎𝟕 ∙ 𝗠𝗲𝗺𝝾𝗿𝘆

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽

˚✩ ⋆｡ ✩┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ┊✦ ˚ · .

▬▬ 07 ∙ 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'M NOT going to regret this, am I?" I ask Finnick as he searches for the spare key. According to him, there's one hidden in a hole formed from a loose block in the wall across from the back storage area of the kitchen—when I asked him why in the world he knew this, he only put a finger to my lips and shushed me.

"Of course not," he says as if offended that I would question him, digging his hand deeper in the hole. "I could have sworn it was here," he mutters to himself, pulling his arm out and peeking in. I try to look over his shoulder too, but all I see is darkness and dust—nothing that looks remotely like a key.

"Just give up, Finnick," I say, holding him back before he can stick his arm in again. "It's not in there, and if you try anymore I'm afraid you're going to get your arm stuck in there."

"I'll be fine," he brushes me off distantly, still concentrating on finding something—nothing—within the darkness. I sigh and grab his hand instead, pulling him away from the wall and reaching down to jam the brick back in. He looks at me and gives me a fake pout as I lead him away from the kitchen. "I bet they would have let me in even without needing the key."

"They would not."

"Yes, they would." He stops—and subsequently, stops me too—and fixes me with a serious look. "Do you want me to go back? I can go back, it'll only take—"

"Shhh..." I put my hand over his mouth to stop him from rambling, and he tilts his head to the side as if to ask him what I'm doing—which, I admit, I don't know either. There's an odd feeling blooming in my chest, a heavy feeling that takes me a while to figure out but I realize is some mix of sadness and guilt. Sadness and guilt because Finnick shouldn't have to try so hard for my happiness, for my enjoyment, for someone who doesn't deserve half of his efforts, for someone who's happiest whenever she's with him, with the real him and not someone who goes out of his way to make her happy.

The words get caught in my throat. I look at him, weighed down by the feeling in my chest and the desperateness in his eyes, and breathe. I tell myself to remember to breathe, to not overthink so much, to speak and not become tongue-tied like I am right now.

"You don't have to do anything for me, Finnick," I end up saying, taking my hand away from his mouth to reveal his unconvinced frown. "Come on." Spurred on by a sudden onset of confidence and resolve, I walk inside the next elevator, Finnick behind me as he follows me out of curiosity.

"Where are we going?" he asks once the doors close. In response, I hit the button for the roof, and we wait. The elevator soars, speeding past the floors as everything blurs from what I can see through the clear walls. "Cory, what are you doing?"

I tear my gaze away from the blurred moving outside. "Finnick, I'm going to ask you to do something super hard, okay?"

"Oh no. I don't know if I can promise you that."

I laugh, and he smiles. God, his smile, the way his eyes light up whenever he's happy, everything... "Don't worry—I just need you to trust me."

"Double oh no, I definitely can't do that."

"Finnick."

"Cory," he says, mimicking my tone, and I lightly punch him on the arm. He pouts and rubs his arm like it actually hurts and I put any effort into it.