Chapter 6 My way of life, F.S
On the hill, our secret place, with the light of the Capitol shining in our faces, I took the cork out of the wine.
Lucius laid on the ground, looking up at the dark sky.
His muscled arms were wrapped in his black shirt.
Black always covered him. He paid tribute to death.
"I will leave mourning when the deaths are due to age, not violence," he once told me.
Paradoxically, such a mournful symbol suited him.
With his shoulder-length platinum hair, his marbled complexion, and his piercing blue eyes, he looked as if he had come from another time.
We would all be kneeling before him, Apollo, if this were ancient Greece.
"If you squint your eyes, you can pretend the city lights are fallen stars," I said, handing him a glass of wine.
He looked at me with that sideways smile and mischievous eyes.
"In that case, I'd rather look at a real star," he looked at me as only he could.
I had to look away, "I'm not the star, remember? I'm always behind the camera."
He smiled and took a sip from his glass. He closed his eyes and tasted the drink. "Tell me what it's like out there?"
"I think I've told you everything," I furrowed my brow and stared at my glass.
"You only talk about the misery. Tell me about the beauty."
"That depends on where you go," I said quietly. He lay down on the grass and closed his eyes, "There are places where the sea merges with the sky. Others where the sea turns into endless green mountains," Lucius sighed and smiled, "I've seen fields of flowers that overwhelm the senses with their scent, trees so tall they seem to touch the sky."
He sat down again and looked at the sky. "I could live in any of those places."
"You won't find good wine there," I said darkly.
"I'll make my own wine, like in the old days."
I chuckled. Maybe because his words were an almost unreal dream, or because deep inside I wished I could share this day with him.
"Are you sure about what you are going to do?" he looked at me for a few moments, and his mischievous smile came back to his face.
"I have created a false starry sky, a hedonistic desire. When the arena implodes, there will only be a sea under a starry sky and Tchaikovsky's symphony blaring from all the speakers in this city," he closed his eyes, revelling in his thoughts, "a whole work of art."
"If it works this time," I said anxiously.
We had experienced several failures, but only this time was I afraid. Lucius was directly tied to the next 70th Hunger Games.
"Do not be afraid, Plutarch," he brushed his lips against mine, "I am not afraid. When you see the starry sky with your own eyes, you will understand that it was all worth it.
I kissed him with anger, love, despair, passion, desire and deep fear.
He was the only way of life for me.
Our love was wrong;
But I loved him as much or more than he loved the stars in the firmament.
I parted from his lips, "I will fight for you to see the stars, to make your own wine and leave the black," and never to be taken from me, I thought.
His piercing, watery eyes looked at me, "I fight to be free. For love to be freedom and not a prison. I believe in you, Plutarch. Whatever happens, never forget that."
His gaze rested on the city again and then on the dark sky.
Apollo never looked so sure of his destiny as he did at that moment.