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hungergamesheadcanons · 9 months

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Touch Starved

Katniss didn't know when she first noticed it, but she actually started thinking about it when they were in District 13.

Finnick had always been somewhat of an odd character, from the obnoxious flirting to poorly veiled innuendos. The juxtaposition of the noose around his neck and his eyes, wide with faux innocence, asking if she wanted to take him for a walk, was always one thing that came to mind. She didn't know if Finnick had an ulterior motive with that statement (she may just not be observant enough to pick up on it, she admitted to herself), or if it was just Finnick filling the silence the only way he knew how, but he had always seemed just slightly off. Like a house with only one light on - somebody's home, but maybe not everybody.

So a lot of Finnick's more... peculiar actions, Katniss just wrote off. Like his poorly timed flirty jokes in moments of silence, or the way he flinched away from other people touching him before seemingly correcting himself with a laugh and a wink. It was just quintessentially Finnick, she had believed, likely due to him being a Victor. No one got out of the arena unscarred, even Capitol favourites.

But while Katniss and Finnick resided in shared hospital rooms ('the loopy lounge,' Finnick had remarked humorlessly, when she once again broke the rules and decided to sit in his room, 'ooh look at the fan-favourite Victors, broken at last.'), Katniss had noticed some behaviours that were more than a little odd. As in, concerning levels of odd.

Finnick was always wrapped in something. A blanket, a jacket, the sheets off his bed - he always had something wrapped around his shoulders. And he slept with a pillow between his arms, clutched tight to his chest even as he tossed and turned in his sleep. And despite how much he slept, he never seemed well-rested, bags underneath sea-green eyes that were so dark she could see them through the glass separating them.

But what really stuck with her was when they were... oh what had Finnick called it? Trauma-dumping? Finnick was talking about Annie, how she was not quite as crazy as the Capitol and Districts thought, but how she had started relying on him when her mind wasn't fully there. He had gone into a spiral, hands knotting the rope faster and faster as he started panicking about what they were doing to her, and even though Katniss didn't necessarily consider them friendly - more than acquaintances, probably in friendly territory but still more akin to allies right now - she had slung her arm around his shoulders in a weak attempt at comfort.

After all, they were both going through the same thing right now.

But what had struck her as odd was his reaction. Instead of just acknowledging her half-hug, or even ignoring it, Finnick's body had completely seized up. At first she had thought he didn't want the touch, and was preparing to remove her arm as naturally as possible so he didn't feel bad, but then he practically melted, body sagging and head leaning on her shoulder like all the energy had been sucked out of him. Katniss hadn't known what to do, so she just kept her arm there, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder like she did for Prim until he fell asleep, quiet snuffles the only sound in the hallway. Even then, she waited a minute until she guided him back down to the bed, letting him actually rest even as she slipped back to her room.

That was another weird thing about Finnick - the lack of snoring. Maybe his body had adjusted to sleeping quietly in the past? Even Prim snored louder than Finnick.

But that was beside the point.

Katniss had confided in Prim about it, her confusion over what had happened. She hated to put this on her younger sister, but to be entirely fair, Prim had far more medical knowledge than she. And, kudos to her, Prim had reported Katniss's concerns to the doctor, who ran some more tests on poor Finnick, and another little note was added to his file.

Touch-Starvation.

"It's also known as Affection Deprivation, or Skin Hunger," Prim had whispered to her, braiding her hair while Finnick had another doctor taking him through the ins and outs of the condition. "Basically it happens when you go without skin-to-skin contact for ages."

"He's Finnick Odair," Katniss had stated, confused, "he's had plenty of skin-to-skin contact."

"Not that kind," Prim shook her head, "genuine affection, like familial and platonic bonds. Not people looking to latch onto the newest, prettiest thing on the block. In fact, the doctor hypothesised that the lack of true affection, or even just genuine affection, made it worse."

And didn't that just make Katniss feel like a piece of shit. The following list of symptoms Prim reeled off (loneliness, depression, fatigue, decreased life satisfaction, problems sleeping, stress, anxiety) and signs of touch starvation (long showers and baths, wrapping up in blankets, cuddling cushions or stuffed toys or pets) just felt like another stab in the wound, because they had all been there. Or most of them. But it had all been attributed to something else.

The depression to Annie's capture. The fatigue to getting out of the arena, same with the issues sleeping. Stress, anxiety, decreased life satisfaction were all linked back to the arena and life as a victor, not to anything else. And they may not have been wrong, but to see so many factors that had been present, and yet no one thought to link it, just felt nasty.

She snuck back into Finnick's room later, the man still covered in blankets, except this time he had a heavier one some doctor had given to him, claiming it would help. She didn't know if it would work, and wasn't going to ask, but he didn't look up at her as she entered, so she knew he was running through everything in his mind.

"How long?" She asked, hoping he'd pick up on the hidden question.

How long have you been without affection? How long since the only touch you had was sexual? How long have you been deprived?

"10 years since I've had touch without any underlying expectations." He mumbled, voice cracking a little. "That's what the doctor said. Haven't had anything... consistent, since before my games - or my first one, at any rate. Just sex. Well, rape, he told me to call it. Forced prostitution and all that. Apparently calling it sex, or clients, allows me to 'mask what's been done to me' and I need to 'face it'." Finnick rolled his eyes. "Easy for him to say. He's not in grippy-sock central."

Fuck. 10 years. Since he was 14.

... Prim was only 13, and Katniss couldn't imagine not giving her a hug, or a headpat, or a cuddle, for 10 years.

"Your parents? Siblings?" She asked, and Finnick pursed his lips.

"Weren't happy with my behaviour in the Capitol. Knew I was hiding something from them and retreated until I was ready to 'tell them the truth and stop being childish'." He chuckled bitterly.

She hadn't truly realised how lucky she was, until now. To have her family still stood beside her, despite the fake relationship and wedding and pregnancy. To still have Prim and her mother. Because Finnick, Finnick had practically been abandoned to the whims of the Capitol (and Katniss would be questioning him on that later, when they were out of the 'loony bin'), and Katniss had just written him off as happy with his lot at first. But she was so fucking wrong, and she didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Finnick frowned.

"It's not your fault," he shrugged, "don't know why you're apologising."

And Katniss didn't either, but she opened her arms anyway. Finnick fell right into them after a minute of hesitation, and Katniss squeezed him tight, even as his body trembled. When he fell asleep this time, head still on her shoulder, hands clutching one of hers between them, she stayed with him all night, falling asleep in his bed and causing her doctors to panic when she wasn't in hers in the morning.

She didn't care. It's what Peeta would have done, and Katniss was tired of pretending she didn't care about others.

So she channeled Peeta's gentle spirit, even though Katniss was uncomfortable herself with giving out physical affection. Whenever Finnick seemed to be distressed, she'd hold his hand or hug him, and Finnick would gratefully reciprocate. And when they were out of the 'crazy corner', she made sure they had rooms near each other, so that they could seek each other out after nightmares and hold each other tightly, talking about their lost loves and what they wanted to do with them when they escaped.

In meetings Katniss would hold Finnick's hand, grounding him and herself so that neither of them floated away. When night came she instinctively found herself checking his room to make sure he'd fallen asleep, sometimes slipping in to offer a shoulder for him to doze on before he conked out for good. Even though he was older than her by 5 or 6 years, having someone to look after felt good, like she was actually making a difference even as she wasted time down here. Even if she couldn't persuade them to get Peeta, Johanna and Annie out, she could at least help Finnick get to sleep, and eat on time, and stay present mentally.

Gale didn't get it. She knew he didn't, because he seemed to look at Finnick like he was competition, constantly making scathing remarks at his Capitol's Golden Boy title that caused Katniss to cringe. He once referred to him as the Capitol's Whore, a title Katniss had heard repeated in the Seam before but now caused her to seethe with unbridled rage. She had taken her revenge by cuddling with Finnick in her room, knowing both Gale and Prim were talking in there about some sort of plan or another. Petty, she knew, but watching Gale glare at an oblivious Finnick made her feel better.

Haymitch didn't get it either, until she explained it to him. He had been concerned Katniss was falling in love with Finnick, and Katniss had been forced to explain to the man about touch starvation and the effects. He had been relieved when Katniss had said it was purely platonic, as even though Haymitch liked both of them, he would not have been happy that they were betraying Peeta (and by extension, Annie) like that. Katniss pretended not to notice how Haymitch now gave Finnick shoulder squeezes whenever he passed, along with mocking head pats when he spoke in meetings.

The man was such a softy, even if he'd never admit it.

Even Prim, who had never known Finnick until 13, had stepped up to the plate. Once Katniss had started hanging out with Finnick more often, Prim had followed, bringing Buttercup along for the ride. The two had bonded over the cat, Prim placing him in Finnick's lap for the man to stroke. Even though Buttercup was a nightmare, the cat seemed to recognise that Finnick needed an outlet, as he sat and let the man stroke him for hours on end. And Prim would help brush Finnick's pretty bronze hair out, and would ask him for help with things like skincare. Where he had found it, Katniss didn't know, but she once walked into the two of them applying some kind of face mask on each other, Finnick's face cradled in Prim's small hands as she smeared a pink goop onto his face ever so gently.

Things weren't perfect. Sometimes he still couldn't physically sleep, while other times he could barely wake up. Some days he still flinched away from touch, while others you couldn't tear him away from whoever's shoulder he'd buried himself in.

But it was a start.

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