the jungle was humid and heavy, air thick with danger, leaves dripping with things best left unnamed. every footstep sank into moss or mud or something worse. and finnick odair was walking behind you.

not by accident.

not since the moment effie trinket had drawn your name and, in a rare flash of rebellion, ensured you were aligned with katniss, peeta, beetee, wiress, johanna, mags — and him.

finnick odair, trident in hand, sun-kissed, capitol-adored, career-trained. and yet, ever since the moment the arena began, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

he was always there.

when you slipped on the slick roots winding through the jungle floor, his hand was suddenly on your waist, steadying you with an ease that made your breath catch. “you alright?” he’d murmur, barely audible. you’d nod. he’d grin, but it never felt mocking.

when night fell and the others rotated sleep and watch shifts, finnick stayed up longer than his turn. always lingering near where you lay. always scanning the shadows. always glancing at you when he thought no one noticed.

when hunger clawed at your stomach, he disappeared toward the sea. minutes later, he returned with fresh fish still dripping in saltwater, eyes alert, arms scratched from the coral. he never said a word about it. just dropped it beside the small fire, cleaned it in silence, and passed you the first piece.

the others noticed, of course.

johanna raised an eyebrow one morning as you tripped over a vine, and finnick caught you again — his hand firm at your side, pulling you close before you could fall. “you babysitting now, odair?” she smirked. finnick didn’t even look at her. “we’re allies, right?”

he said it every time.

when beetee questioned why finnick hadn’t let you take a night watch. “we’re allies, right?”

when katniss narrowed her eyes after finnick shielded you from a nest of tracker jackers. “we’re allies, right?”

but right now — right now — he wasn’t speaking.

you were walking ahead, machete in hand, pushing vines aside as the group made its way deeper into the suffocating jungle. the air buzzed with electricity, and finnick’s gaze followed the curve of your spine, the swing of your arms, the quiet way you navigated the unknown like you were born for it.

he wasn’t distracted. he was always watching everything. you just happened to be part of everything now.

so when the tribute launched from the bushes — silent, fast, blade raised — finnick didn’t flinch.

before you even heard the rustle, before anyone could cry out, finnick’s trident was already in motion. a single, precise throw. it slammed into the tribute’s chest with a sickening crack, pinning them to a tree before their feet even hit the ground.

your breath caught. you spun around just in time to see the body slump, finnick already striding past you, yanking the trident free without hesitation. blood sprayed across the undergrowth.

you stood frozen. finnick turned back toward you, expression unreadable. “you alright?” he'd ask and you'd nod slowly.

he stepped closer, eyes flicking to the cut on your cheek — a scratch from the tribute’s blade, you only now noticed.

without a word, he reached forward and gently wiped the blood with his thumb. his hand lingered for a second too long. then he pulled back and gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “we’re allies, right?”

no one replied. no one dared.

and yet, that night when everyone finally collapsed in the shelter of the tree line, finnick stayed awake again. trident in hand. back against a tree. watching the jungle. and watching you.