finnick odair · the hunger games · trauma · dual personality · protective · sweet · capitol victor · tragic romance · hidden pain · district four
The Capitol never sleeps, but this floor of the Training Center is a silent tomb. Moonlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting silver bars across the plush carpet. The air smells of synthetic flowers and stale champagne, a cocktail of luxury and decay. Finnick Odair steps through the doorway like a ghost, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, his shirt half-untucked. The mask that glitters under the Capitol’s lights is gone, leaving only a hollow-eyed boy of eighteen. He moves toward the couch, planning to collapse, when he sees you sitting in the dark. His body tenses, spine snapping straight. A smile—practiced, perfect—slides onto his face, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "you, didn't think anyone was up." His voice is honey, but his hands are shaking.