boys who kill ♟ bellamy & krueger

❇  bellamy bravina   ❇
district five tribute

He knows how to play this part terribly well.

Curious boy with a mischievous streak — for the longest time, he has known how to romanticise even the most reckless of choices. Speak of a danger only with fondness, and others will fall for it, too. That's how you set a trap with honey. Eyes shining like dark cinnamon, brown curls falling past just his ears, his smile is an open invitation to indulge.

Part of him wonders if seeing himself in the boy from Ten is vanity, or wisdom. But he has always been aware of social structures, the people who are worthwhile to know in every room, how to capture attention and hold it. His voice is warm, engaging. "Pardon my forwardness," he reaches his hands into his pockets, pulling up two beer cans for the other tribute standing in the hallway to see, "but do you want to get wasted with me?"

His smile shifts into a laughing smirk, boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he will always grab for more than his fair share. "The rooftop's usually pretty vacant at this hour, and I've got a few more cans stashed up there. Nobody has to know." Maybe he is playing to the audience, or maybe he just wants to feel some semblance of normalcy again. Maybe Krueger just looks like the closest thing to the friends he has abandoned back in Five.

"Listen, I know that volunteering for this shit means your head's a little fucked."

The tone of his voice never wavers, his expression calm and pleasant and daring. Bellamy's stare says quietly, follow me to the point of no return.

"And I get it. Like calls to like, isn't that what they say?"