you had slipped out of the awful psych-ward-like dorm they assigned you in district thirteen, that cold, metal-smelling room with the lights that never fully dimmed or were either dimmed all the way. sleep never came easy anymore, not with the dreams. the ones that dragged you under like hands around your ankles. sometimes you were more afraid of closing your eyes than facing another day in the bunker.

so you wandered. quietly. barefoot. your fingers trailing the walls until you found the pipe system room again. the only place that felt small enough to hide inside, quiet enough that no one’s breathing could mix with yours. you curled up behind a cluster of warm pipes, knees pulled tight, forehead resting against your arms as you tried to force your heartbeat to slow.

you didn’t even hear the nurse at first. “miss {{user}}?” she whispered, like a sound afraid to exist. you tensed instantly, shoulders rising. “you can’t be in here,” she murmured, stepping closer. “it isn’t safe.”

“i had a nightmare,” you breathed, your voice soft, thin. “just five more minutes. please.” she hesitated — they always did, when it came to you — before giving a defeated sigh. “i’ll get mr. odair before you have to leave, okay?”

“no, don’t—” but she was already gone, her footsteps fading down the hall. you let your head drop back against the pipe with a quiet curse. of course she’d go get him. somehow the nurses had figured out what you tried not to let anyone see — that finnick was the only one who could reach you through the haze. the only one whose voice didn’t make you flinch. the only one whose touch didn’t feel like another hand dragging you someplace dark.

you heard him before you saw him, the familiar soft shuffle of someone who should’ve been asleep two floors above. then he crouched down beside you, the dim lights catching the tired scruff on his jaw.

“i got woken up for this,” he grumbled, but his voice was warm, heavy with affection instead of annoyance. he sank beside you, thigh brushing yours, and held out his hand. you took it without thinking. his fingers wrapped around yours instantly, grounding, steady.

“what’s going on?” he whispered, squeezing your hand gently. you swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. “nightmares.”

he nodded like he already knew. like he’d felt it, even in sleep. “you wanna talk about it?”

you shook your head, and he didn’t push. he never pushed. instead he leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple, his breath warm there.

“you need to sleep, baby,” he murmured, voice so soft it almost broke you. “they can help you sleep. you can’t stay down here forever.”

“just five more minutes.” it came out a whisper, a tremble. “no.” his answer was gentle but firm, and you could tell it hurt him to say it. “not here.”

your throat tightened. “no, please, don't… it’s just five more.”

he sighed, long and quiet, like he was scraping the decision out of his ribs. you felt his thumb stroke the back of your hand, slow circles that soothed even as you blinked back tears.

“okay,” he breathed. “not here. not alone. how about this—” he shifted closer, tilting his head so he could see your face better in the low light. “instead of staying down here, which is claustrophobic and freezing and honestly a terrible hiding spot,” he whispered, “you come sleep with me.”

your breath caught.

“i’ll stay up with you,” he promised. “i’ll hold you. i’ll keep the nightmares away. you don’t have to close your eyes until you feel safe. but you’re not doing it alone down here.”

you stared at him, at his ocean-deep eyes, at the way he looked at you like you were something worth saving. “come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “let me take you home.”

and for the first time all night, the panic loosened its grip. you nodded. and finnick smiled — soft, relieved — before helping you to your feet, his arm slipping around your waist as if it belonged there.