Thresh and his MALE childhood friend, before during, and maybe AFTER the 74th annual Hunger Games.
A strong, broad back floods into my vision, covered by the thin of a tattered, white shirt that could easily have passed off as a dish rag. I couldn't care less about the condition of that work shirt, only the movements the taller body in front of me made as it works quickly and determinedly, scraping away at the dried ground with a crescent shaped blade that easily swipes through stems of golden wheat. I bend down to pick each hearty plant up, placing it in the large, handwoven basket that slings over my arm. It's a hot, dry day, in between Spring and Summer no doubt, and the way white cloth clings to darkened skin in front of me is mesmerizing.
"Gill, slow your roll. You keep bumping into me." rumbles a slightly perturbed Thresh, turning his neatly shaved head over in my direction, brow creasing in annoyance. I skitter out an apology and keep my space from then on, knowing that it's near the end of our shift, and he's grumpy and tired from the busy work that would earn him a meager pay. My shaggy, shortened hair is a lighter color than that of the wheat, a shining blond. My skin is lightly tanned if anything from working out in the fields, lacking deep in comparison to the dark brown of Thresh's form. But that didn't mean a thing. There is no segregation here.
Four notes sound through scattered Mockingjays, and workers unanimously pick up their tools and march solemnly off the amber field. A glance toward Thresh that was meant to be secretive was caught, and I hurry on before him.
The world that we live in is the only life I knew; heavily guarded work, little food, sleep. Hunger Games.
But I have Thresh. We're friends. The name feels rancid on my tongue, and before Thresh can question the unhappy look on my face, he's once more distracted away from me, this time by his sister who's also returning from work.
He looks happy to see her, and unwarranted jealousy springs up in my stomach as I watch. Noticeably, it must be the end of the week, because nobody's singing traditional work and traveling songs. We're too tired. I walk faster, eyes peering out for the only member of my family to try and distract me from such destructive feelings. It wasn't often that Thresh got along with people other then family members; he prefers solitude and doesn't like depending on others. I'm the only one disproving this theory at the moment, since we've managed to have some sort of haphazard relationship. We've known each other practically from out of the womb, and continually work together since the dawn of our farming work. He performs the tasks for me that I can't do very well, and vice versa. I can't very well say that we complete each other or anything, but...
It's pretty close.
"I'll see you later, Gill." Thresh announces with a small wave and the attempt of a smile, heading off in another direction to pick up his grandmother from the garden she worked. Young and old, sick and healthy; all worked, all contributed. How else do you survive? I would've volunteered to go with him, but I could see that he would do fine on his own. Wouldn't want him to tire of me anyway.
"Ahh, Dad!" I call out with a burst of a smile, and get a weary flip of the head in return through the crowd of those leaving and entering work shifts. Since it was around harvest time, some workers harvested during the night. I only took the day shift because Thresh did.
"How's the harvest going? I heard a fire started up in section 1; that's pretty rough." says my father, same light skin, bright hazel eyes... he just has darker hair then I do, not to mention his larger build.
"Work's fine. Yep, it took a little while to put out, 'cause it's so dry and all, and we had to pump out a bunch of water." I kicked a pebble off the side of the dirt road, sauntering past the town square full of shops we can't afford to vacate, even with the steady flow of income we receive. Its just enough to keep us alive, though. "And transport?"
"I swear, shipments get heavier and heavier." groans my father, the worker in Transportation, lifting heavy capsules and crates of supplies that head directly to the Capitol, and in smaller quantities to the rest of Panem. I rub into his shoulder a little as we shuffle on to the place we call home, a little one bedroom house that belonged to my grandpa, and probably his grandpa. We don't have money or the means to build a new one, and it works fine; plus, it's right next to Thresh's.
Once home, my father and I wash up lightly. We make a small, thin soup of greens, accompanied with cardboard-like bread out of the grain rations for dinner. After I'm itching to see how my reoccurring project's coming along. I crouch down beside the small garden my father and I keep outside, checking what little variety of vegetables and herbs we keep, plucking a few weeds, watering generously, watching the horizon grow dark. Thresh and the rest of his small family had since returned, their splotchy windows glowed from the candlelight inside. It was around the time it began to get dark that Thresh would usually come and join me on the porch. When the birds quieted their singing and gave their voices a rest, just to hear Thresh and I chat awhile.
"Gill?" It takes a little while before I notice Thresh at my side, squatting down at my level, face concerned as if he's been trying to get my attention for awhile now. I stumble back and land onto the hard ground on my butt, laughing a little nervously. "Sorry, just tending to the garden." I excused, before standing up and wading over to the steps of my porch. Thresh follows.
"It seems like you've been thinking a lot today. What about?" he asks, with the same gentleness and maturity that he uses with his sister. It's usually the voice that makes me think he's treating me like a child. And I'm older than him!
"Work. Dad. Hu-" Hunger Games is always on everyone's mind. Bringing it up is unfair - and if you go too far with it - taboo, should any surrounding Peacekeepers hear you. Of which there are many. "You. I'm thinking about you." I breathe, hands knotting in the pockets of dull, worn out corduroys, my thin, white buttoned up work shirt starts to stop clinging to me with sweat, since the southern, warm breeze blows in.
"What about?" repeats Thresh, this time his concerned, older brother tone clear out of his tone. Now, that's better.
My eyes flicker over to meet his, no longer staying on the surrounding residential area we permeate. "... I want to run away." Before I mutter the last word, I know I've said something forbidden, because Thresh's eyes are wide and unfocused, and his large, dark hands suddenly clasp over my mouth.
"Stupid! Peacekeepers are just rarin' to give out public floggings for that kind of talk." No, he's not reprimanding my saying it. Just about where I was saying it, and who might've been around the corner to hear. His hands felt warm and guarding around my mouth, but also suffocating. I pried them off of my mouth, but still clung onto them with my own smaller hands. "I don't want to live in a place where I have to constantly fear for your life." I sputter, eyes peeling themselves from Thresh, dropping his hands, looking to my dirt scoured feet.
"... Why is my life so important to you?" he asks me gingerly, almost as if he's afraid of the answer. I debate internally, before leaning back behind me, back arching around the small staircase, head plopping against the top step of the porch. "I don't know... I love you, I guess?" I look up to gauge his reaction, but he simply rolls his eyes and huffs, as if he's heard this before.
He's still hunched over in a seated position, form looking big, strong and masculine enough to break the weak wood. I wish it did, just so he'd get hurt, and I'd get to heal him up all by myself. "I wish you'd take these things more seriously... just saying 'I love you' like it's nothing..." he trailed off, rubbing at his forehead. I perked up then, as if on cue, hanging on his words, moving across the board on my knees before sinking to a sitting position in back of him, hands going to soothe the tense, broad shoulders that I'd been staring at earlier. "If I took it seriously, would you consider it? Consider me?"
This was ridiculous talk; or maybe not so ridiculous. I was male, however lacking in that department I seemed, and Thresh was the very definition of a male. It wasn't everyday you saw two guys sharing a house... I wondered if being with another male was even legal. And about my feelings toward Thresh... I'm not so sure about them. We've been friends for too long, so much so that I've just only started to notice how attracted I am to him, physically.
Thresh wasn't talking, so I stopped my hand's movements, letting them slide up and over the hills of his shoulders before wrapping around his chest, chin sinking against his right shoulder in a nervy embrace. When had he ever let me this close to him? I took full advantage of either his weariness or lack of care to bat me away. I carefully kissed his smooth cheek, feeling the skin heat up from the meager touch. His shoulders slumped, body sinking into the porch more. My thin fingertips joined at his chest. "I do like you a lot, you know." I spoke up, nerved by the silence. He's sighing again, sitting up straight, easing me off of him.
"I've considered it." He says, now fully standing, plodding off of the steps and toward his house.
"And?" I'm still on the porch floor, tempted to rise up. But I don't, because a heavy feeling is weighing me down.
"You and I both have worse things to worry about." Thresh readjusts his white collar, work boots making their mark on the ground. "And we're friends. I think it's best if we just stay that way, you know?" he gave a half smile and waved reassuringly, disappearing inside his house.
I didn't understand how much I actually liked him until he rejected me.