Finnick's POV

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"
He walked up to the stage nearing the Capitol escort who was standing on the stage beckoning to him, her violet hair a contrast to everything in the District. Closer, closer. He could do this. He had to do this. At the young age of fourteen, he felt he was destined to volunteer. There were no rules against it.
One foot in front of the other, Finnick, he instructed himself, his eyes still gazing at his feet.
He could hear the squeals of the Capitol escort, the murmurs in the crowd, shocked at the fact that a young boy was volunteering instead of one of the elders. Yes, he heard all of this, but once he neared the stage, he took notice of only one thing. He turned his gaze to the section where all of the girls were kept according to age and searched for the section where his female peers were standing, some eager to volunteer, others trying not to stand out in the crowd, as if trying to fade.
Somehow, among this crowd, he was able to find her face. Her hand was covering her mouth and her eyes were overflowing with tears.
Her eyes were condemning and conveyed only one message: you promised.

Looking into those eyes, the eyes of his very best friend, he felt guilt stirring in his gut and twisting his insides.
He was not even listening to the Capitol escort who tapped the microphone and announced in a delighted tone, "and now, for the girls!"

Finnick barely paid attention, only stared into her eyes. His best friend stared back, not in sadness but in defiance, which was typical of her.
"Hollie Liders!" The escort squealed. The crowd parted to reveal a thirteen year old blonde girl with a terrified expression on her face. The girl glanced around, obviously expecting a volunteer, but it soon became clear that there were none. She wrung her hands nervously and approached the stage as confidently as she could.
When she took her place beside Finnick, he exhaled in relief.

"I volunteer!" A girl yelled. The two tributes on stage whipped their heads in unison to the direction of the voice. Finnick's heart melted and it took all of his strength to keep his knees from buckling. He stared blankly as the younger girl quickly scurried back into the crowd releasing tears of relief and joy that she had probably been holding back.
He watched the new girl approach and jog up the stairs, then take her designated place on the stage right beside Finnick.
He heard a faraway voice, muffled, as if hearing it underwater, ask what the girl's name was.

He shifted from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable and awkward in front of so many people, all of them gazing up at him with wide eyes as if expecting him to do something interesting other than stare blankly. Unfortunately for them, that was all he was able to do.
"Annie Cresta," the girl replied to the ecstatic Capitol woman. Then she spun around and grasped Finnick's hand. Numbly, he shook her soft small hand and turned his attention to her memorizing eyes, the eyes of his best friend, the one who-

~
Finnick sat up straight in his bed, gasping for breath lost from the horrible nightmare. He had had the same dream three times in a row, and if anything it was getting worse, not better.
He snatched one of the blankets on his bed-a deep scarlet cover with intricately designed seashell embroidery-and hoisted himself out of his bed. He made his venture toward the nearby window in his bedroom which overlooked a large section of District 4.
He pulled up the blinds and thrust the window open and felt the breeze whoosh against his face. He lived close enough to the beach to feel a slight spray of ocean water on his neck, and it was rejuvinating.
He wrapped the blanket around his body and curled against the window. Finnick shivered from the shocking cold of the night, yet he refused to close the window and go back to sleep.
Sleep would bring more dreams, more pain, more heartbreak and more fright that he could not and would not handle, at least not then.
He stayed awake for a few minutes, gazing at the stars and the sea, the glitter of the faraway stars reflected on the ocean. Then he knocked on his window three times.
He heard a soft clatter and turned his attention to the house nearby his. He waited for a moment in anticiapation and held on to his blanket even tighter.

From the house next door, a window creaked open and a head popped out. Annie fanned her dark hair from her face revealing fatigued eyes. She propped her chin on the windowsill, smiled sleepily, then yawned and covered her mouth with her hand.
"You called?" She asked.
He nodded and waved his hand in acknowledgement. The moonlight was bright enough to make out their physical features and actions. Annie was obviously sleepy whereas Finnick had obtained enough rest for the night.
"What's up?" He called out to her in the night.
"Uh-" another yawn which she tried to cover up but failed at doing so, "the sky."
Finnick rolled his eyes at his friend's tired reply.
"You should go to sleep," he whispered loudly to her window. He could make out her shrug, "not that tired just-" she was cut off by another one of her yawns and his snickers. "Maybe a little."
He mimicked her. "Yeah," fake yawn, "maybe a-" another one of his mocking yawns, "little," he made an overexaggerated yawn to elaborate.
"Okay," she said and was now giggling, "maybe a little more tired than I said. I admit, I need sleep. Its surprising, but evidently I can die from sleep loss." That earned Annie a sly grin from Finnick, which in turn earned Finnick a grin of his own from Annie.

A clash of boots on pavement alerted the two, and they turned to the direction of the ruckus.
In the pale moonlight, he could just barely make out Annie's lips mouthing the words: peacekeepers. After that, she ducked her head inside of the window and quickly closed and locked it and retreated to her bed.
Finnick peered out of his window and was bewildered at how quickly the peacekeepers had been at sneaking up on them. Why had they not heard the distinct noise of their boots clashing on the streets, keeping watch for patrol and eliminating children who had snuck out past their curfew earlier?
Sighing to himself, he took in one last glance at the ocean he lived so near to, the smell of salt so fragrant he could almost taste it, and silently closed the window, his eyes still reflecting the shine of the stars.
He crawled back to where his bed sat, right beside his nightstand, on top of which consisted of a few assorted items: several stacks of books, a few electric powered flashlights, and a small lamp which was desperately in need of a new bulb.

Instead of dragging himself into more nightmares, he curled up by his nightstand and stared. Maybe he could open his window again and name the constellations or count the stars that were left visible in the sky, but he decided against it. He did not feel the need to receive any special attention from the peacekeepers that night, or any night for that matter. Instead, he opened the blinds to his window and watched with big eyes at the full moon.
He felt Annie fall asleep. He felt his friends and acquaintances fall asleep. He may have even felt everyone in District 4, or even all of Panem fall asleep. But Finnick Odair stayed awake the entire night and pushed away his nightmares.

~*~
Hey guys, this is my first (and overdue) fanfiction, so thank you all for reading!!!
Also, just to clarify, I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy, Suzanne Collins is the one who was amazing enough to come up with the plot. There will be a few characters I made up, so aside from those characters, I don't own any of The Hunger Games.
Please give me feedback, and I hope you all enjoy the rest!!!
~*~CBG