The Reaper | F. Odair

Thirty-Seven

The first night Aaron spent inside of Finnick's house, she woke up screaming at two in the morning. It'd become an occurring thing occasionally back when she was in 10, but she'd always been alone and able to realize that. Finnick darted down the stairs, begging her if she was okay, as she'd slept on the couch by choice, just to be gently pushed away and reassured with 'it's fine', 'it happens all the time', 'let me calm down', and other excuses.

"Are you sure?" Finnick asked, walking over to the couch, rubbing his eyes.

Aaron nodded, wiping her eyes from tears she didn't need him seeing. "Company would be nice..."

With a lack of therapy, there was only so much Aaron could do to keep the episodes of depression away.

Finnick looked, watched as she shuffled to make space on the couch as she sat up. He slowly sat down next to her. Aaron gulped down the lump in her throat, ignored the beating in her chest and leaned against his shoulder.

She was terrified of waking up again in the arena, waking up in the cell, waking up anywhere but in Finnick's home. Agnes was still alive, suffering, and the thought of her being alive did scare her, but the thought of the women never being able to harm her in that way did reassure her.

Finnick slowly shut his eyes at the sound of Aaron's soft snores as she finally managed to sleep again.

Later on the first day, Aaron struggled to stand in the kitchen alone with Finnick as he cut vegetables. She'd thought she'd been able to get over her fear of him, but something about him holding a knife still startled her. She'd sit in the living room, fiddling with her nails and dead parts of skin on her fingers, listening to the blade slicing through thick and thin. Each cut she jumped less and less. After managing to eat, Aaron stuck near Finnick, even while he worked. She looked around 4 with amazement as they made their way onto the pier, freezing and staring at all of the boats when they made it onto the docks.

Finnick looked at her with a grin as she looked at his own boat, staring at it as if it were some massive creature. "You've still not been on a boat?" Finnick asked, jumping on carefully.

Aaron shook her head, crouching down to pick at the rope that held the boat to the dock. "Still..."

"You don't have to come on if you don't want to." Finnick said, walking into the helm and opening a trapdoor in the back. "The company would be nice, though."

Aaron stood and leaned, just barely seeing him through the windows, "what are you doing?"

Finnick didn't respond for a minute, disappearing to come back up with a cooler. "I need to go restock some things."

"Food?"

"Mostly." Finnick hopped off of the boat onto the dock, "there's a tiny, tiny room down there."

"Have you stayed out overnight?"

"Few times." He adjusted the handle he held, "Have a tiny stove down there too."

Aaron grinned as they began to walk. "Fancy." She said, holding her hands behind her back as she walked beside him.

"Extremely fancy, some boats are full of kitchens now." Finnick shared the blonde's grin. "But I prefer what I have."

Aaron hummed as they walked. The old, now abandoned, arenas were mainly on the mainland, but Aaron was vaguely aware of 'cruises' some Capitol's people once took to go to the few places that existed still.

Re-entering the piers markets, Aaron found herself in with a crowd of people, mixes of workers and regular shoppers. It was so early, yet some boats were already back delivering fish to some of the markets. It held a stench of salt water that made her nose itch. Aaron found herself leaning against Finnick to avoid losing him, and eventually came comfortable to slither her hand into his own. She didn't realize how much she missed his hand in hers.