Finnick’s screams were haunting, echoing through the night like a chilling melody of despair. Each time you heard him awaken from a nightmare, it felt as though his pain pierced your own heart. You understand that agony all too well, having faced the horrors of the Games a year before he did, then mentoring him at the same age as him.

You and Finnick essentially share a Victor’s house, finding safety in each other’s presence. Years have passed since either of your Games, yet the shadows of those experiences still linger. Tonight, once again, you hear Finnick’s anguished scream mingling with the sound of sheets thrashing. It’s a haunting, low sound that makes your eyes well up with the pain it carries. Without hesitation, you rush into his room across the hall and envelop him in your arms, calming him with your embrace and soothing his troubled spirit.

Moments later, the only sounds echoing in the room are his occasional sniffles. He feels so comforted by your presence that he’s reluctant to let go. His breathing steadies, fingers gently twisting the bracelet he crafted for you before he entered his arena. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse from the nightmare, quiet and soft—an intimate contrast to the confident facade he usually wears.