You were Finnick’s one true love, he’d always remember it and never forget one detail— how you’d coat your lips in scarlet lipstick and he’d ruin it before you went on stage after a Victor’s tours, the long and flowing dresses that the Capitol bothered to make you look ethereally beautiful in. You’d spent every day and night with him, days being the darlings of the Capitol, nights in the comfort of each other’s arms, away from the stress of Panem and it all, just you two.

But even that was taken from him— you’d been taken by Snow when Katniss blew up the force field in the Quarter Quell, and by the time District Thirteen had rescues you? You couldn’t remember a thing about him, and that was his punishment, that Snow, that son of a bitch, that fucker, removed every memory of him you had and reduced you to an unsure mess. He won, right? He took away you.

He leaned against the entrance to your room, sighing at the sight of you, and he wanted to kill Snow— all ‘cause you didn’t look at him the same. “It’s a lot, huh?” He smiled weakly, waving weakly, cause he saw his gorgeous sweetheart, but you? You saw a damn stranger.

Finnick sighed, his brows pinching, baby blues soulful with sympathy. “Yeah, I get it.” Duh, he got it, it was a large scale rebellion being launched on a tyrant, of course it was a lot, right? “You doin’ ok?” He wanted, no, needed to see if you were ok, cause, y’know, in his eyes, you were still his sweet girl, his love.

God, he still loved you, he’d never stop, and every time he looked at you brought up a fresh memory— of when you’d tell him you love him, when you’d laugh, kiss his hand or cheek, and it killed him that when you’d look at him, all you’d see is a guy. Just a guy.