ROOFTOP - finnick odair

chapter thirty one

"when the evening shadows
and the stars disappear
and there is no one there
to dry your tears
i could hold you
for a million years
to make you feel my love."

~

Caterina's POV:

The sun leaks through the windows, spilling warmth all throughout the house. Finnick's shirt hangs loosely off my shoulder as I walk down the stairs still half asleep.

I enter the kitchen to see a shirtless Finnick with only sweatpants on, standing in the kitchen where he has a million utensils out and all the cupboards open. I sit on the counter and stifle a laugh as I watch him try and cook a meal without any assistance - including a recipe.

"Looks good," I tease, smirking at his poor attempts at whatever he's trying to cook.

"Shh," he says, stirring something in a bowl then kissing me on top of my head, "I'm making you breakfast."

"But you're a terrible cook," I point out.

"That may be true, but who says I can't cook a terrible breakfast for my beautiful wife," he leans down and kisses my stomach, "and my beautiful baby?"

I roll my eyes and laugh as he smiles happily and goes back to his mess of a kitchen.

"How many more months do we have to wait again?" he asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Finnick, I'm only two weeks in."

"Two weeks and two days."

"Okay, you really gotta stop doing that."

He laughs and pours his unknown mixture into a sizzling pan, whistling quietly to himself. I get up from the counter and walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"You feeling okay?" he asks, keeping one hand around me and the other on his pan. I find it unbearably cute how he checks up on me more often than usual.

"Of course," I respond, tucking my head into his bare chest. "Just very hungry. So these pancakes better be good."

"Can't make any promises, princess."

"Princess?" I ask, scrunching my nose. "I don't know if I like that."

"Queen?"

"Better."

He chuckles lightly and finishes up the food. I'm about to start eating right from the pan, but he catches my hand and pulls it away.

"Come on," he grins, placing all the food plus drinks and fresh fruit into a basket. "The roof is always better."

I can't hide a smile as he takes my hand and leads me onto the roof of our house. It's not as high up, but with a view like this, it doesn't matter: the deep blue sheet of water stretches out to the horizon where the sun sets, the ocean nearly sparkling in the light. We sit in the blankets and pillows that have already been left here from previous days and eat, watching the waves leave its soft kisses on the shore.

"You know, this is actually really good," I admit, finishing up my breakfast. "Thank you."

He smiles. "Anytime. I can even make other things, too, like waffles and b-"

"Not the food," I interrupt, smiling. "Although it was very good, I wasn't lying about that. I meant for everything. You've done the absolute most to get us here today. Look at us - sitting on a roof watching the sunrise with no place to be or people to see. Our lives belong to us again. So, thank you."

"As much as I would love to take all the credit for that, unfortunately, there was this other amazing girl who also helped make this happen," he says with a smirk, nudging my arm.

"Seriously, though, Finnick. Sometimes it's surreal to think about what we've done and I still can't believe that we made it."

I have a million things to say. But somehow, by staying silent, he still understands.

"I know," he says. "But we're here now and that's all that matters."

"Times like these make me question how I ever thought to myself that love wasn't for me. You make me question how I ever, in a million years, once believed that I was better off alone."

"Well, I knew it from the start that you were the one. It took us a few tries and many doors being slammed in my face, but... look at us now."

I grin and move in closer to him.

"I love you," I say, turning his head to face me before I press my lips on his. First gently, then more deeply with a stronger passion. We kiss for as long as we want, because we're allowed to. Because our lives belong to us again, and we can live however we want to and we can kiss for hours and we can do whatever we desire. We part eventually, though, to catch our breathes.

"I love you more," he whispers, and our lips meet again. "Always."

The morning goes by slowly, as do all the other days. There are, of course, the hard days. Where it seems impossible for me to ever get better or deal with the loss of my family. I will always feel the scars and invasion of the unwanted bodies and hands roaming around my skin. I will always hurt for my beautiful mother, and caring father, and my gentle, intelligent sister who was taken from me far too early. I will always be empty without them - that part of me will never be able to become filled again. I will always remember the first night I had to do it. I will never forget it. I will never forget the way I felt, the horror, the pain, that one night.

But all these scars I have - they have shaped me into the person I am today.

I'm still learning that time will heal wounds. I'm still learning that maybe time won't heal certain wounds. Some days, I am not okay. But I am learning that that's okay. And what's different from before is that now, I have another piece of love and support and a pair of sea green eyes to help me fill in the missing holes in my heart.

I don't know what having a child will be like. I don't know what life is going to be like for them. But what I do know is that they will have the best father they could ever ask for. They will see us and they will know what love is. I know that they won't be like me, where true love is foreign to them - and that no matter what, their life will always be better than what my life used to be. And that's all that matters.

Finnick will insist on telling them about us. About all the memories and moments and stories. I never would have thought that I would be able to have such heartbreakingly beautiful stories to tell. At first, I didn't even think I had any good ones to listen to. I didn't want to talk about the imprisonment and violation in the Capitol, or the fear of the Games. I didn't want to talk about the way we were once treated - and maybe, I never will. But I've realized that there are more significant stories. The ones that have shaped me into who I am today and still make my heart flutter and my stomach do a flip. Because the kisses in the pouring rain, the late night swims in the ocean, and the sunsets on the roof - those are my stories, and those are the stories worth telling.

Right now, as I rest my head in the crook of his neck and shut my eyes momentarily, I think about those stories. The ones that ruined me, broke me, and healed me - and the ones that have yet to be written. But I know that in the very end, I'll be left with it all. Every night we spend, every kiss we enjoy, every touch we share, every breath we take.

And that might be my favourite book yet.

~

the end