{Finnick Odair x Reader} - To Survive The Ocean, First You Must Swim - Chapter One
Finnick Odair x Reader
Warnings: mentions of rape, violence, death, suicide, depressive ideologies and suicidal thoughts
masterlist | chapter two
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Everything is always blue, too blue. No matter how far I run, blue always follows me, a gentle taunting that never gives up. In 4th grade art class they taught us the colour theory behind blue. That it was supposed to be a colour of calm, symbolising serenity and freedom. Ironic, really, when all it ever seems to do is remind me of how really trapped I am.
Blue is the colour of the clothes they wore, when they took her.
Blue is the colour of the endless horizon, the one that took him.
I won’t let blue take me. I refuse it.
“You alright?” My eyes turn to meet the source of that voice, and I am met with green in return. Green is good, green is safe.
Emery blinks and I break eye contact, instead opting to face my shoes instead.
“How could I be?” I respond, a dry sense of humour lacing my voice.
“Fair.” Is all he could say. But it's normal, no one is alright. Not today at least. Because today is the day of the reaping.
I have already gotten ready, my mother put me in a white flowy dress. It used to belong to my sister, Cornelia. It hurts to wear, the soft fabric burns against my skin as I try my best not to think about it.
Unwrapping an afternoon tea, I give the majority to Emery, he needs it more than me. Emery’s siblings are too young to work, and his mother is restricted to a wheelchair, making Emery the sole provider of his family. The result of which is evident, where on most people there is muscle from fishing, on him there is only bone. I don’t have a swimmers body either, while I technically know how to swim I haven’t touched the water since my fathers death. A fishing incident, not even his aquatic skills could save him.
“Thank you, really” Emery says my name, and I know his gratitude is genuine. But really, I should be the one thanking him. When my sister died in the games, he was there, by my side. When my father was taken by the ocean, he was there, listening to my cries. Emery saved my life, and for that, I owe him everything.
“Don’t worry about it,” I put on a smile to the best of my abilities. “We’ll have more after the reaping.”
“Mhm,” he nods while stuffing his face. It would be amusing if it weren’t so sad. “We’ll be alright. And in two years time we’ll be safe.”
I nod, but I know it isn’t true. My dad’s reaping days were far behind him, yet he wasn’t safe.
Emery and I make our way from the beach side to the town square, the giant clock adorning the Justice Building reads quarter to four. ‘May the odds ever be in your favour’ is what Emery whispers as he squeezes my hand, before walking off to the boys section. I am ushered to the area for girls aged sixteen.
Dahlia Lain - if I can remember her name correctly - is on my right. I don’t know much about her, but I know her brother used to shove Emery into lockers at school before I threw a rock at him, hard. I look to the girl to my left. Her brunette curls and brown eyes are unfamiliar to me, but she looks scared. Her dark skin barely hides her bones, I’m guessing she had to take out tesserae, the most likely cause for the fear on her face. I hope her name isn’t called. It doesn’t look like she would last long.
Sona, our escort, welcomes us to the 69th hunger games, wishing the odds to ever be in our favour. I hate her, now more than ever. She is wearing a different dress than the one she wore to the 65th, but the shade of blue is still the same. The same blue she wore when she called my sister's name. Pain washes over my body as I think back to that moment. I was twelve, I was eligible. I should have volunteered when Cornelia’s name was called. Sure, a twelve year old girl stands far less of a chance of surviving than a fifteen year old. But what did age get my sister? The man she lost to was fourteen anyways. I look up to stare at his face, he sits on the stage so casually, as if he had not a care in the world. The pain in my skin turns to anger and I feel my breath shorten. It should have been my sister that won, not him. She stood a chance, a real chance. She too was from district four, she had his same skill set, but it was his face - his annoyingly perfect face - that was the cause of his victory.
I hate him. He didn’t directly kill my sister, but that didn't matter.
I hate Finnick Odair.
Before I even realise Sona has the paper in her hands. I wonder if there are going to be volunteers, in district one and two, volunteering almost always occurs. In district four however, volunteering is a bit more scarce, but still not uncommon. I don’t realise how scared I am until she opens the paper.
‘what if it's me?’
“Nala Wenlock”
Relief floods over my body, and I barely register the girl on my left slowly walking to the front. Her trembling physique was upsetting, yes, but better her than me. Though my repose was short lived, because the next name called out makes my knees buckle and my hands shake.
“Emery Jones”
‘What?’ This wasn't supposed to happen, he didn’t have to take out tesserae, I made sure of it, I fed him as much as possible.
Dahlia catches me and as I see her face I think back to her brother, and how vulnerable Emery is. He is kind, it was that very kindness that saved my life, but I know that in the end it will be his kindness that will kill him. Even if he manages to hold a weapon to another tribute, with his skinny physique there would be no chance of Emery overpowering him.
No, I can’t let him go in alone.
He needs me.
I need him.
I didn’t volunteer for my sister, but I won’t make that same mistake again.
“I volunteer!” I scream running towards the stage.
“I volunteer in place of Nala Wenlock!” Sona looks in shock, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a female tribute volunteer after the male name was called.
‘It can’t be too late, please don’t let it be too late.’
She looks to the mayor, who gives a subtle nod.
“Okay then,” she smiles, “How joyful, what is your name?” she says as she helps me onto the stage, and as I tell her my name, I see the look of relief, and gratitude as Nala steps down from the stage.
“Are you perhaps a friend of Nala?” She says happily.
“Emery, I’m a friend of Emery.” friends. That's technically what you would call it. As much as I wish for something more, we are just friends. But I still can’t seem to regret my decision as I stand on this stage. Not as a myriad of solemn clapping fills my ear, not as I make eye contact with my mother. Standing in the crowd, face of terror tainting her beauty. She will be alright, she is one of the best healers in the district, she doesn’t need me to take care of her. She will be just fine. Emery on the other hand, Emery needs me. He saved me, and it is my turn to save him.
Not being able to look at her anymore, I turn my head, and my eyes land on Finnick, and for the first time since his games, I see his perfect features not in a state of calm, but instead one of shock, and maybe even… sadness? No, he doesn’t know me. He has no reason to pity me. I dismiss the idea quickly and turn to shake Emery’s hand. He gives it a light squeeze, and I can see in his eyes he is scared. I am too, but I am ready. Ready to do whatever it takes to save him.
We are quickly led inside the Justice Building, but I don’t register any of it. I am only pulled back into reality when I see my mother standing in front of me.
“Please tell me you’ll try to win”
“Mom… I…”
“Please. I’ve already lost your father, I’ve already lost your sister to these rancid games, I can’t lose you too.”
I rise from the soft, horridly blue, couch. Arms enveloping her before I even realise it. “You are strong, mom, you will be okay.” Her trembling arms wrap around me.
“But you will try to win?”
“Yes.” It's a lie, a horrid lie, but at this moment it's all I can say. All I can do to comfort her as she cries into my shoulder.
“You are so brave, so kind, my beautiful girl.” Is all she can whisper before the peacekeepers tell her time is up. Her sobs echo down the hallway and echo in my mind, even after she is well gone. I expect her to be my only visit, but Cynthia, Emery’s mother, comes through my door. As she rolls closer to me I get onto my knees to be the same height as her.
“I won’t let him die. I’ll do everything I can.” We have never talked much, but she has the same kindness in her heart as her son, and as her frigid hand takes mine, I can’t help the tears that form in my eyes. “Thank you,” she says as her own eyes flood with tears, “Even if he doesn’t survive, it is a blessing to know he won’t die alone. Thank you.”
I can’t say anything at risk of everything coming out, all at once. I can’t cry, they will film as I board the train and even if I manage to stop by then my eyes would be red and puffy. So instead, I hug her, and I hope it is enough.
Finally, and least expected of all, Nala enters the room. She must know I didn't volunteer for her, right?
“You saved my life, I know it wasn’t for me, but still you saved my life.” She whispers, before continuing.
“I do not know you, but I will forever be grateful.”
I can’t say anything, but apparently I don’t need to. Instead she takes my hand, and in it, she places a necklace.
I look at it, and I feel my stomach drop. Based on her slender frame and old dress, I can tell she probably does not have a lot of nice things. So why is she giving me this? This sapphire necklace? It couldn’t have been cheap.
Suddenly, even though I don’t know her, I care for her. That has always been my weakness, Emery’s is kindness and mine is caring. It doesn’t matter anyways, and at this moment I can’t find myself to hate the blue of this pendant.
“I hope you wear this, into the arena. You’re allowed one token from home.”
I thank her, and allow her to put it around my neck before hugging her. I find myself to be happy almost, happy that I am the one being sent to my death and not her.
We hug until the peacekeepers pull her off me. And all too quickly, I am alone again. They take me to the train, and as I board I take Emery’s hand, a gentle reminder. I’m doing this for a good reason.
