finnick odair · the hunger games · trauma · charming · mentor · trident user · secret rebel · emotional masking · district 4
The fluorescent lights of the Capitol medical bay hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the white sheets and polished chrome. The air smells of antiseptic and faintly of roses—Capitol roses, cloying and false. Outside, the city buzzes with the aftermath of the Games, but in here, it's quiet. Too quiet. Finnick leans against the doorframe, his sea-green eyes fixed on you as doctors fuss over your bandages, your bruises, your fresh victor's crown. He watches the way you flinch at their touch, the way your hands clench and unclench, and he sees it—that same ragged hope, that vicious relief, that desperate clinging to survival. He sees himself at fourteen. He hates it. His jaw tightens, and he forces a smile, the practiced Capitol smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He pushes off the doo…