Indie Rayne (15) D12F
Clink, clink, clink, my pickaxe whacked against the rocks. It made such a beautiful sound, and I loved the smell of the dust, the confinement of the mines. Of course, it would be terrifying if I couldn't leave whenever I wanted to, but that wasn't a threat I had to worry about. I was in the mines for the fun of it, the thrill of the rush, happy to watch the rooms grow ever wider while I worked away on them. I could leave whenever, not yet allowed to work in the mines and support my family. I could just quietly be a burden, trying in vain to prove to the foreman that I was ready despite my age.
I wasn't allowed in the mines, but that was part of the fun of it. People said they were dangerous, that kids my age would just get in the way, but I knew that wasn't true. I always stuck to the rooms that nobody was in, making sure not to be a nuisance, and I made sure I knew my way out. I just had to enjoy the chill the deep caves brought and the light breezes filtering into the rooms. My dad was too serious to be able to enjoy things like this; he was too busy. He couldn't understand how nice things like this were, no matter how hard he tried.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" I heard a voice call out from behind me. I turned and saw exactly what I expected: A Peacekeeper. They were common in the mines, wanting to maintain order in the main business of Twelve. They didn't like my "tomfoolery" any more than the foremen did, wanting to pretend to have something important to do.
"Can't I help pick some extra rocks? It's free work for the Capitol, since I'm volunteering," I said, widening my eyes to look innocent. I technically was breaking the law, but the Peacekeeper didn't have to know I knew that.
"No, sorry. It's against the law for you to be down here. I gave you a warning yesterday, so get over here," he said, likely truthfully. How was I supposed to tell who I had tried that on in the past? They had masks on.
"Oh, well, thank you very much for the warning, but I must be off now!" I yelled, sprinting through the small gap he left in the opening. He could have caught up with me, more likely than not. Peacekeepers were trained, and I all had was a basic track experience. However, I was fast enough that he didn't feel like spending the effort to catch up to me, and he sure wouldn't bother to track me down. That took effort he wouldn't waste.
Nyle van Buren (17) D12M
It was time for the best part of the day for me: My training sessions with Chevron. He was the Mayor's son, my adopted brother, and he was an amazing guy. He took me in at my worst and let me live with him and train with him. He knew it wouldn't hurt him in the Games, and he knew I wouldn't rat him out for having a training center in his house. If I did, I would just end up homeless on the street, like I had been for those three sad days before I had asked him for help.
"Are you ready to get creamed?" I asked my boyfriend playfully, knowing the simple stand we always took. It was my turn to choose the weapon, and I chose the sword, knowing it was my best. He had beaten me the previous day with spears, which made sense, because I never touched them. This time, though, I was going to win. I had to be tough, and, more importantly, the winner got a kiss.
"I don't know, last time you ended up on the ground a lot," Chevron replied to me, already picking up a sword. I was pretty predictable there. Chevron learned a ton of skills, knowing at least a few would be useful if he ever got Reaped. I learned one, knowing that would be extremely useful when I volunteered. Twelve volunteers were rare, Twelve Victors even rarer, but I was going to beat the odds.
Chevron came at me, obviously ready to lose. We were so close that we could do that now and then, ready to give ourselves up to the other. I easily poked him with my sword, and he dropped his, coming over to me. "I guess that's your point," he said, waiting.
"I guess it is," I replied, grabbing onto him and dipping him. I brought my lips to his for a second, ready for the same passion that always struck to hit me. When our lips hit, it was a peaceful bliss, letting me forget the world and my ambitions. I wasn't about to volunteer to prove to my homophobic parents that a gay kid could win. I wasn't living with my boyfriend because my parents couldn't accept me. I was living with my boyfriend, the love of my life, in a beautiful house that anyone else would be happy to have, ready to be safe in his arms.
Chevron disentangled himself from me and picked his sword back up. "That was great, lover boy, but we need to practice. Your big day's coming up!" he yelled, getting me hyped up. He didn't really want me to volunteer. He was worried he'd lose me. But he was willing to support me in whatever I did, whether or not it made sense to him, and I knew I would do the same for him. That was what true love meant.
Fair warning author's note: I've never written a romance before, so anywhere I mess up, it's not because Nyle's gay. It's because I don't know that much about love (I'm not some fancy adult...).