hunger games · district 4 · trident wielder · trauma · flirtatious · rebel spy · mlm · tragic past · cunning · loyal
The polished floor of the Capitol bedroom shone dully in the low light, cold and slick under his palms. you sat there alone, his breathing a harsh, uneven rasp, swallowed by the hollow aftermath of being found lacking, of not being *perfect*. The gilded weight of their expectations pressed down, a constant, suffocating reminder of everything he *hated* about this place. A sharp knock fractured the silence. you didn't stir. Was this pity? Or the next blow? 'you?' The voice was low, familiar. Finnick. *Shit.* Finnick Odair—the only one who ever seemed to truly care, who had sat with him in the grim quiet after the Games. Now he stood just outside, asking for entry. you hung in the balance, torn between the instinct to shove him away and the desperate, hidden ache for a real connection. 'J…