alain snowspire ; district 10 - fin

{ alain ;

I must be, like, ten in this photo.

Hair kissed golden by the few days of sun we'd gotten that year, pushed back behind my ears and tangled up like someone had just run their knuckles against my scalp. I've got my arms crossed to my chest and I'm puffing it out like there's something intimidating about my noodley physique. I can tell by the furrow in my brows that I'm mad about something - or at least I'm trying to be - but there's this awful, aching fondness in my expression making it a tough sell.

I don't remember anything about this moment, the memory has been eaten away by time and insignificance. I've got no idea who even took the damn thing, considering it's a shitty polaroid picture and I've refused to use the gimmicky stuff since I was seven. Dunno why I kept it either, pushed up under my mirror's frame with all my other favorites. Chalk it up to the fact that I spend so little time in front of the camera, I don't have any other options.

Mostly I like the mystery of it. The answer is certainly out there, as easy to obtain as passing the photo around the staff lounge until somebody speaks up, but I've no intention of doing that. Instead it sits on my mirror and it glares at me whenever I'm fussing over my reflection. One of many looming presences I've become accustomed to.

Ms. Munroe tells me I've got a bad habit of finding myself 'in the thick of it' whenever something goes on. To which I'd argue that I orchestrated one (well deserved, mind you) ditch day years ago and now every professor looks to me whenever they catch scent of a storm brewing. Whether or not I'm involved does not excuse the presumption on their part.

Still, I preen a bit under the attention.

I'm certainly not the brains of the operation - pretty sure Hanna and Dolly would strike me down where I stood if I ever suggested as much. The soul? Lovie and Bronte have fucking galaxies in their eyes and I've got no idea how they manage to feel so much all the time. Ignis has more passion, Joyce has more determination, Pippa has her eccentricities and Coley is practically the best person I've ever met.

So why me?

Maybe cause my smile's always crooked and I learned to talk before everyone else. I don't have a satisfying answer and I don't much like those anyway. Fact of the matter is I'm here and I'm quite fucking good at giving a shit.

Go searching elbow deep in my chest and you'll find a bleeding heart. A bit too romantic, maybe, but I'm not as good as Bronte is at falling in love. I've got a habit of making people into pictures, I guess. They tend to become only the warmth of a hand in mine and a pretty face to catch in candids and keep tucked away in my textbooks for the three weeks we can stand each other.

It's not like I don't know I'm being shitty when they start expecting more than the bare minimum and some part of me gets pissed because now that's too much. I don't expect I've left deep enough wounds on anyone for it to matter. I'm careful about not asking for more than I can give and most of what I offer is shallow.

Hell, Hanna realized she was a lesbian after our short lived middle school affair, so I'm doing good work I think.

Save for Coley, no one's seen more of me than I allow. I get this weird itchy sensation whenever someone tries to go digging around my thoughts. They're mine and given the fact we've shared oxygen for nearly two decades I think I'm entitled to some privacy. I don't want to be understood, I want to be recognized for having good ideas that tend to work out for the better.

I've got a vision, see, and a proclivity for perfectionism.

It's most apparent when I'm filming. Can't be called a cinematographer yet; I haven't made anything worth the title, but I'm confident I'll get there. Likely after Coley and I have gotten far away from Snowspire and I learn what it's like to actually live.

I've been told I'm not easy to work with, something about the combination of high expectations and an unwillingness to explain what those are. (I shouldn't have to, that's the point.) Art is meant to push boundaries and try as I might I haven't gotten Coley to look at the camera without some flavor of fear.

My fault, not his. I'm trying to do better.

I keep every film we've ever made, even if they're awful and I can't bring myself to watch them. Quinn and Oscar were forced into roles on quite a few of them and it's just nice to know some part of them is here with us and not living it big with their happy fucking homes.

Promise I'm not bitter, I've got a plan to track them down once we're all out of here.

Call it a family reunion.