52nd games
Mira Press- District 6
I don't know why I love his character so much. Quite frankly, he's very distant. But maybe it's just the games. not him.
"I don't think it's too dangerous. it's getting dark. We should cross." I say to him. He waits. His straw like hair falls in front of his eyes. He picks his fingernails with his knife. That constant quizzical, melancholy looked etched into his gorgeous face, never letting me see what's behind it.
"OK." he says. We step into the open. The waterfall doesn't seem to be too wide to cross, but not without difficulty. The pair from district eight should have left traps here, so we tread carefully. He goes before me, hopping from shallow point to shallow point. He reaches the other side with ease, in no time at all. Now my turn. I carry more weapons, so the task is more of a challenge for me. The slippery rocks seem to jeer at me. Slip, you ditzy blonde. c'mon. just slip. You're gonna die anyway. Maybe later. But not so soon. He grabs my arm and pulls me up to the bank. I suddenly feel an immense fatigue. I squat down.
"Can we sit here?" I begin, removing my accessory harness. "Maybe set up camp?" He waits to answer again. For a full minute he just crouches there, strong and silent and gorgeous. The boy from the coal mines of twelve.
"OK." he says. we move away form the waterfall, to some boulders overhanging the earth that might provide some cover. I lay my harness and his backpack underneath the stones, whiles he fetches some water and wild vegetables for a cold meal. lighting a fire is too dangerous. he returns, and we dine in silence. I inch closer to him. I look up to the sky as giant images suddenly illuminate the sky. The sheer scale of the arena leaves me in awe, even after two nights. Time to remember those slain today. Faces fade away and reappear, some important, some not. Some threats eliminated, some things to worry about. The miner boy suddenly drops to his knees beside me.
"My partner." he says. he shakes his head, looking down. I look to the sky again. A girl from district twelve is fading into the stars. I sink down with him, putting my hand on his shoulder. He directs his gaze to the ground. Always to the ground.
"My sister used to play with her." He says to the crushed leaves below him. "And they liked to do each others hair." He looks up to me. I wish I could say something. but I feel like he's starting a conversation I'm not supposed to be a part of. he looks at my face. I love the way his green eyes swirl. they're so pronounced... he runs his hand up to my cheek. I put my hand on his. he pulls me forward into him, and his lips press against mine. He wraps his arms around my waist. I place my hands on his cheeks, and pull us further into the kiss. his tongue snakes into my mouth and fall forward onto him. we embrace on the forest floor, lips locked. I pull away.
"I think we should get some sleep." I say to him. He waits to answer. Even now? His face breaks into a smile, the first I've seen. A pitiful, awful, beautiful smile.
"OK." He says. We move over to underneath the boulder. My body meshes to his, and I bury my face in his shoulder. We fall to sleep in comfort.
I wake up, feeling my head being lightly lifted off the ground by my hair. I look to my side. the straw haired, green eyed boy for 12, lies dead. My miner boy lies lifeless in the moonlight. blood soaks his shirt. he looks like he never even awoke. I glance behind me. A young looking boy is holding a bloody knife in one hand, my hair in the other. I can't say for sure in the darkness, but he looks as if he's crying... my heart begins to beat faster, but I've lost the will to move. I fill a blade gently touch my throat. I close my eyes.
This is the first in the series of short stories about love in the arena. I will attempt to update at least twice a week.
thanks for reading, everyone. reviews are appreciated.