This Is What Makes Us Boys... [open blitz]

Benat Izar

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Benat was never one to be ashamed of his own body.

Maybe it was growing up in district eleven where boys would run around the swimming hole nude during the hottest days of the summer, or it was his natural affinity to feel comfortable in his own skin. But he never felt like his body was a terrifying thing to be hidden away from the world, especially when it was covered in sweat and grime. Going nude was about as natural a thing as he could think of, next to breathing or sleeping. He’d long ago lost the shyness some boys carried with them, especially when he had come to the realization that he wasn’t unhandsome. He wasn’t prideful—in the training center it was more than evident he didn’t have the best body—but there was nothing about his skin that ached when exposed, nor did he feel the prickle of prying eyes. His body was his own, he might as well have enjoyed it, whether or not his stomach was flabby or his arms on the smaller side.

“Wash away, wash away…” He hummed to himself, turning the spigot underneath one of the showerhead nozzles. He let out a little yelp when a rush of hot water splashed out. Benat was still getting used to the idea of running water, especially water that was already heated. At home, cleaning had been a chore that lasted moments—if he ever did it at all—seeing that he used an old washbin and a trickling flow of cold water, even in the winter, to get himself fresh. It was one of the little things he had come to love about being in the capitol: that he could spend a half-hour underneath the warm running water and do nothing at all.

Steam filled up the wall of showers as Benat stood, having left training early if for no other reason than to clear his head in the showers. While he was jostled doing cardio, or thrown to the matts in hand-to-hand combat, here he could retreat into the emptiness of his own head. Every day brought about a new crack in his façade—the goofball image he projected, still believing he could ignore the seriousness of the games—but closing his mind off to everything helped to plug up the holes. When his hands shriveled and resembled raisins, he turned off the spigot and let the water drip. He smoothed back his hair and turned, ready to move back toward the lockers and dry himself off.

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