Chapter 4
Clove's home was in the west quarter. Peacekeeping there wasn't so strict, especially when it came to parties and the younger people. Andrew, the head of the unit there, was young for a peacekeeper and allowed house parties so long as they were kept under control. A small unit stay nearby in case things get out of hand, although only once have they ever intervened. Abel and I made our way there as the sun was setting behind the tall, jagged mountain that overlooked the quarter. Abel was one of the most popular of our age group. It was mainly because of his good looks; he was insanely attractive. He had narrow, green eyes overlooked by thick, straight eyebrows. His faced was chiselled, with high cheekbones and hollow cheeks that creased and dimpled whenever he smiled and laughed. His strong jawline and thin, Greek nose give finish his heavenly face. His hair was jet black, cut short on the back and sides but kept long on top. Today, he had a fringe that fell on the right hand side of his forehead, placed in a perfect mess. He was a bit under six foot, probably 5'11. His body fat was close to nil, but he was muscular. His body was sculpted to the point that it was jagged, especially his arms that seemed to zigzag from shoulder, to tricep, to forearm; his large, veiny hands at the end of them.
He had turned eighteen a while back, which meant he was able to get tattoos without his parent's permission. Although, when he turned sixteen he was allowed one by his parents, so on his arm he gotten a large red rose surrounded by small green leaves. Since then he has gotten more in the same area, forming a half sleeve around his elbow and the bottom half of his upper arm. On it was a bird, whose large golden wings stretched around his bicep, dominating the others, the body of the bird not noticeable between them. Some green clouds surrounded the bird, and between the wings, below the rose, golden streaks of light shone out. A second flower was added, blue and deep pink, next to the rose. On the back of his arm, on the tricep, was a wolf, silver and light blue, howling at a grey moon. As the sun disappeared shadows stretched across the district and a silver crescent shone down over the district. I asked him what his tattoos meant since he wore a tank top and his muscular arms were on show.
"Why? You thinking of getting one?" he asked me with a smile, his freckled cheeks, dimpling.
"Maybe, if you convince me" I said.
"The rose, doesn't mean anything, but the fact that it is a tattoo itself holds meaning. A tattoo is permanent, and if I can be dedicated to marking my skin for life, then that means I can have the motivation and dedication to keep working at something, like my fitness, or my art, which are perhaps temporary." He said. Clove's house was approaching in the distance, every light on, the peacekeepers sitting outside on watch.
"You're art?" I asked him.
"Painting, sketching, sculpting, I love it all" he said. He smiled again and I felt my stomach drop as his pearly white teeth showed from his thin pale pink lips; he was truly beautiful.
"It's not something I expect of you" I admitted to him.
"I didn't expect it either" he said and raised his eyebrows.
"So how did it come about?" I asked.
"A few years back I was in the justice building one day, meeting with the Mayor's son. I wandered about and came to a room that was full of paintings. One of them was of the lake near the training centre, and the blossoms that line along the east side. It wasn't it in its traditional state, however. Whoever had painted it had played with the colours, so that the water was pink like the blossoms, which were pale blue, like the sky, which was a greyish-brown like the tree bark; you get the idea. I thought it was fascinating, the way they made something so familiar to me so surreal. Since then I've been in love with art." His eyes were wide and glimmering with passion. He blinked the look away then and his cheeks turned a slight pink colour. "It's so stupid and gay."
"No" I replied. "You've found something you're passionate about, there's nothing wrong with that." I stood there, wishing I could be fanatical about something like that. I spent most of my time training, and although it was natural to me, it was something I had grown to like, it wasn't something that sparked a blaze within me. We stood at the front of her house. On the pavement outside a few people stood chatting amongst themselves.
"I'll tell you about the rest of my tattoos another time." He said to me and I nodded. I stood there for a moment, staring into his green eyes not moving. "You going inside?" He asked. I snapped away and my cheeks turned pink.
"Yeah, yeah" I repeated awkwardly laughing, scratching the back of my neck. I walked through the open door into Clove's home. It wasn't small, but not large; the West quarter was in the middle in terms of wealth. The North was the wealthiest, and the South the poorest. The East was where the masonry happened.
People from school and the training centre were there; nobody I didn't know. Music played in the background. I heard that music differs from District to District. What is played elsewhere I do not know, but here, everything is based around a voice. Accompanying the singer can be pianos, percussion of different kinds, although usually drum kits, guitars, strings and brass are used also. It's nothing like the glorious transcending brass pieces you hear on projections from the Capitol when they have something to report, but it is, to us, still glorious. We found Clove reading the track listing of the vinyl that was playing.
"Abel, Cato!" She said in excitement as she saw us. She motioned for us to come over. "It's so nice for you to come." We both wished her a happy birthday and she told us about the music playing. It was a present from her grandparents. "They said they said that during the daytime, when there were other commotions that attracted the peacekeeper's attention, they would quietly play this and dance from start to finish."
"She has a beautiful voice. Who is it?" Abel asked her.
"I don't have a clue. There is no name." Clove said with a smile, looking contently down at the spinning record. "We have alcohol, if you want any." I wasn't a huge drinker, usually sticking to wine when my parents allowed it. It was expensive so rarely we drunk it; only on special occasions. I had only once been drunk off of liquor bought from the market by my brother. I did it for fun and adventure. My brother did it to rebel in his own way. I was 16 and threw up in my brother's room over his floor. I didn't want to feel that again, but tonight I thought that perhaps it could numb my emotions. My parents weren't around, so I adopted my brother's role. I stayed with Abel for a while, drinking to song and cheer with him until he was grabbed by Clove for a dance. I sat alone until a group of boys grabbed me and pulled me up to dance. We didn't take it serious, but danced comically with legs like a marionette swinging from side to side. For a time I was happy. There was such a good vibe in the air and the sound of liveliness elated me.
When drunk, things happen unexplainably and I found myself kissing an undoubtedly straight boy. I don't know whether it was a dare or not, but everyone laughed at it. After a while, however, the sedation of alcohol and joyfulness wares off. When my previous fear began to return, my heightened emotions latched onto it. I ran into the bathroom and tried to get myself to calm down, but my strength was weakened by the liquor and I couldn't grip the fear that my monstrous mind was turning yet again into anger. I stormed out of the bathroom, annoyed at nothing, just channelling fear into something that I could physicalize. Someone bumped into me, and immediately the loaded gun that I was fired the bullet that had been edging out. I pushed him back, and pretty soon a fight broke out. I punched him a few times till there was blood; that was when Abel intervened.
Seeing him was a call to reality. It was like I had been placed before a mirror and I saw what I had become. People were staring in silence at me. I invited fear back into my mind. "I'm not a monster" I said to him quietly.
"I know you're not, Cato." He said, but I didn't want comfort; as Theo had told me, I needed fear to be human, not a monster, so I found a way to make my fear somatic; I abandoned the party and ran away from the house. Abel followed me and quickly caught up. His long, thin fingers wrapped around my shoulder.
"Cato. Stop. What's wrong?" He asked me. I looked into his green eyes again.
"I've become a monster. They turned me into a monster." I said.
"You're not a monster. Where are you getting this idea from? Who are they?" He asked. I just shook my head and looked to the ground in shame. Everything was happening so fast that my mind couldn't process everything.
"Is he ok? The boy I hit. I don't…everything is blurry." Abel chuckled.
"He'll be fine" he said. "You don't drink regularly, do you?" he asked me. I shook my head. "It's probably a good thing that you don't; some people just aren't good at handling it" he said and rubbed my back to comfort me.
"I hate alcohol" I said and he laughed.
"C'mon. I'll take you back to my house; sober you up." When we got to his house, on the border of the north quarter, a mile or so away from my own house, I immediately felt relief. I wasn't scared, or angry, but comforted by his presence. I started to wonder whether or not it was the familiarity of the training centre that he brought that comforted me, or if it was him himself. His bedroom surprised me. It was small and rectangular. The door opened on the smaller wall with a window on the adjacent wall. To the right was a wardrobe and to the left a desk. He had a double bed that stretched from wall to wall and occupied the further half of the room below the window. It was covered in plain black sheets. His walls were painted a grey-green colour and had a dark wood floor that seemed old and worn. Coloured specs of paint were on the floor that he hadn't cleaned.
"It's not much" he said and gestured for me to sit on the bed. He went and got me some water and told me drink to help sober me. After a while of sitting with him in silence, I felt the intoxication lose its effect slightly, but still I was drunk. I thanked him for allowing me into his home and helping me.
"Don't worry about it" he said with a cheerful smile. I stretched my injured leg out when I felt the tightness of it return as the alcohol within me was being soaked up.
"Why have we never spoken before?" I asked him.
"We have spoken." He said, but I shook my head.
"No, that's not what I mean. We've never had a proper conversation, never made friends. We acknowledge each other, yes, and make idle talk, but never . . . got to know one another." I didn't know where my words were coming from. I had never thought for a moment why I wasn't friends with Abel, never questioned it, hardly thought about him. I admit to sometimes having a dirty thought or dream, but that was the extent of it.
"I don't know, Cato. I've always admired you. You're Brutus' favourite . . . that can be intimidating" he admitted to me. "Why have you never spoken to me?"
"Perhaps because I find you intimidating also."
"What about me is threatening?" he asked.
"You're a beautiful creature" I said and he laughed but while blushing. A silence passed over us. "Why did you talk to me, invite me to the party? Why today?" I asked.
"No reason. You just looked like you could use a distraction." I shook my head and drank some water.
"That's not why, is it?" I asked and he gave in and shook his head.
"You turn into Sherlock when you're drunk, huh" he said.
"Who's Sherlock?" I asked with a raised brow.
"A character in a book; don't worry." I felt bad to keep pushing him for answers, but I wanted to know why then out of all times did he chose to talk to me. He probably only confessed to me because he himself was inebriated.
"Why wasn't I intimidating to you then? Why did you speak to me?" This, he only admitted to me in the hope that I wouldn't remember come the morning.
"The truth is, I had gained some information a few days before. I found out that you were gay. I wanted to speak to you, but you haven't been at training. I think you're rather attractive and when I saw you wandering, for a few hours, I took it as an opportunity to speak to you." He smiled awkwardly at the ground.
"You're gay?" He nodded. "And you find me attractive?" He nodded again but chuckling this time. Then I kissed him. He was startled by it and pulled away.
"What are you doing?" He asked, standing up.
"Sorry, I just thought that you would want to…"
"Maybe, one day, not know" he said.
"Why not?" I asked. I took my shirt off and kneeled on the bed. "Why one day? Why not now? There's a bed right here."
"Because you're drunk, Cato. I can't have sex with someone while they are drunk. They need to be able to give consent." He sat down on the bed next to me and sighed glumly, but for some reason I kissed him again. He pushed me away, however. "You can sleep here, if you want. I'll take the couch" he said and started to walk out the room but I stopped him.
"Don't go." I said with a puppy like pout and sigh.
"You can have the bed to yourself." He said.
"I don't want the bed to myself. Please stay." He eventually gave in and crawled under the black sheets with me. I wrapped my arms around him but he pried himself from my grip.
"Just go to sleep, Cato" he said. I obliged and stuck to the one side. I thought about Abel, being in bed next to me. Up until then he was a stranger to me, and even though we were on two separate sides of the mattress, a vacuum between us, I felt relaxed and comforted. I wasn't angry. I wasn't scared. I was content in his presence, breathing his air, feeling the same warmth as him, his sheets against my skin. He comforted me.
I woke up in the morning with only a vague recollection of what had happened. I had images that came in flashes to my mind of what had happened. I wasn't in my bed, I knew that. I remember then that I was in Abel's. Why was I in Abel's bed? I had ran from the party after I started a fight . . . and Abel was gay. I remembered that I kissed someone . . . the boy at the party . . . and then Abel! I strained my mind trying to recollect any more memories and apprehend what had happened. I soon realised that I wasn't just in Abel's bed. I was naked in Abel's bed. When had I gotten naked? I thought to myself. I looked over to the other side of the bed. He was still asleep, the sheets pulled up to his waist; and he wasn't wearing a shirt. I didn't check to see if he had anything else on underneath, but I took this as solid evidence as us having sex.
I hardly knew him and I had slept with him! I started to breathe heavy in a panic. I didn't have issues with sex, or with people who hardly knew each other having sex. But I was a virgin, and I didn't want to throw something that still made me a child away on nothing. To me, the first time having sex is acceptance into maturity and adulthood, even if I'm not an adult, and I wasn't ready for that yet. I climbed out of the bed as quietly as I could be. I didn't wake him and quickly got dressed and left.
When I got home my parents were already up and waiting for any sign of me. My mother embraced me.
"Thank God you're alright. You never told us where you were or what you were doing?" She said with my face between her hands. I uncomfortably pulled myself away from her.
"I told you he'd be fine." My father said, his attention elsewhere.
"Where have you been?" My mother sternly asked.
"Clove's birthday party; stayed over a friend's house." I said to her. My mother seemed relieved. Her concern was uncomforting; it came and disappeared always, making her unpredictable
"Are you going to training today?" My father asked; of course, wasting no time to show concern for me before asking.
"I don't know. I'm feeling a bit rough" I said. It was true. I had a hangover, my head throbbed and stomach churned. I also felt emotionally drained by what had happened. "Tomorrow for definite" I said to reassure him and quickly made my escape to me room. It was only when I got upstairs and was alone that the smell of bacon and eggs filled my nose. My stomach made a noise and sick begin to raise in my throat. I ran into the bathroom, breaking the lock in the process and started to throw up into the toilet. My brother was brushing his teeth.
"Dude, what the – ew" He said as the left over alcohol that lingered in my stomach was thrown up into the toilet. "You stink like alcohol; like me" he said and laughed.
"Fuck off, Lucius." I said and took off my shirt that had been caught by some sick.
"Alright, just want to congratulate you on letting go for once" he said and swilled his mouth with some mouthwash.
"Don't piss me off." I told him.
"It seems like someone has already done that" he said to me. I shook my head and tried to get my breathing under control. I flushed the toilet and pushed him out of the way of the basin and swilled my mouth out with water and then with mouthwash. "So you went out and got drunk, stayed out all night…no! Little Cato hooked up!" he exclaimed and slapped me on the back. He could be so patronising at times, even though if turned my rage onto him, he wouldn't last a moment. I turned around in anger and pushed him against the wall and stood over him, looking down at him, staring into his eyes.
"Don't fucking mess with me right now" I said. He just laughed and slithered away from me.
"I'm congratulating you, on taking a page from my book." I grabbed him by the arm and pushed him out of the bathroom and tried to lock the door but realised I had broken the lock. My mother was shouting from downstairs, demanding to know what was going on. I sat against the door to stop anyone from coming in. I had to think of how I was going to deal with this; figure out what I was going to say to Abel when I saw him. He was probably awake and wondering why I left. I felt shit for being a fool and getting drunk; losing my virginity to someone who was practically a stranger, but I was more concerned for Abel and what he might think of me.
