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purple haze | district five
Oct 22, 2023 13:19:44 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Oct 22, 2023 13:19:44 GMT -5
"We aren't supposed to be up here," Mateo said, smoke pouring from his open mouth like he might just spit fire when he wanted to. The glow in his hands was nothing compared to the stars above them, an ever-expansive space of light illuminating the dark. Some of those very stars may have already died, extinguished, but there was no way of knowing which. There was, Jack supposed, a certain ecstasy to be had in trying to bottle the night though, swallow it down for a chance to float among them and see which were still living.
"Uh-oh," Jack said in response, "Hope they don't punish us by making us do something horrible. Like participate in the Hunger Games, for instance." Oops. Too late for that one. Mateo handed over the joint and Jack leaned back to rest his head on the couch. He hadn't ever smoked before, always too set on his goals to allow anything that might slow him down past his lips. No drinking, no drugs. The only late nights he usually permitted for himself were training days before performances, when he had to be sure that Grimsby wasn't going to catch an attitude when it was time for him to jump through the hoop in front of a crowd, to make sure Phyria was standing all the way up on her hind legs when he ordered her to, rather than simply leaning back on her haunches.
If he was being honest, the sensation wasn't exactly his favorite. He felt floaty, and light, and giddy, but also a bit out of control. It was almost as if he was a guest in his own skin, simply passing through on his way someplace else. And he also was fairly certain it wasn't a good idea for him to smoke the entire thing. Luckily, the security team must've checked the cameras and saw the two boys on the roof, because five different peacekeepers filed out from the fire escape to force them back inside.
"Uh, see you around then," Jack said, standing rather unsteadily and smiling at his new friend.
He realized upon stepping into the elevator how hungry he was now, so rather than pressing the button to the 5th floor, he went all the way down to the ground floor, made his way to the dining hall. The kitchens would be closed for the night so he wouldn't be able to order anything, but he figured there would be plenty of refrigerated stuff, or at least bread and pastries left out in the serving baskets. Seeing the first floor with all its lights off was a curious, strange thing. Something haunted, almost. The place looked so much larger without all its little worker ants scurrying about it, and each step seemed to take him a slightly smaller distance than before.
It also made the presence of the only other person in the area that much more obvious. One of the girls from Four was on her way out, arms full of finger sandwiches and cinnamon rolls. Her hair was pulled back and her clear skin glowed in the faint light. Jack could tell just from looking at her that she was probably the kind of girl who had friends everywhere she went, probably rarely spent a weekend alone. His eyes flicked to the shelves she'd seemingly just emptied, and his stomach growled as if on cue. "Don't suppose you'd mind sharing some of that?" he said, his thoughts swimming.
The girl seemed reluctant, but eventually agreed, taking a seat at one of the empty tables. Jack took a seat next to her. "Jackson, by the way." She probably already knew. If Nessa Garner knew enough about him to know he'd raised lions back in District Five, he had no doubt an assumed career knew his name. Still, formalities and all that.
"Thanks."
Their meal was interrupted at some point by peacekeepers, even more than had been on the roof.
"Return to your rooms. Right now."
The woman's voice did an excellent job of sounding threatening, and she didn't have to repeat herself to Jack. He thanked his new friend again, kissing the back of her hand, and then made his way to the elevator. He thought it was strange that they'd been kicked out- maybe the hall needed to be cleaned and the cleaners weren't allowed to come in while tributes were there, or maybe they were just making sure Jack wasn't up to any trouble after smoking. He made it back to the 5th floor and sighed at how much like home it really was. The neon track lighting, the crisp, electric air.
He stumbled into his room and closed the door behind himself, stripping off his shirt and pants for bed. But before he could cross the room to the plush mattress, he noticed a strange haze filling the room. Is it really humid in here? His high brain thought, and then an instant later, he was crashing to the ground unconscious.
He woke several hours later to find that the fall reopened the wound on his nose he'd gotten in his Private Training Session. He sighed. It'd almost healed itself closed, and now the blood felt sticky as he separated his face from the floor. He was still wearing nothing other than his boxer with hearts on them, sitting up in a groggy haze. What the fuck had Mateo put in that joint? He groaned, his television screen on and displaying static which lit up the room in an eerie light. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and pulled on a pair of gray sweats, before exiting the room in confusion.
He saw the exact moment the static on the screens changed to something else. Each of them, pointing at him from every angle, began to display the same thing: a countdown. A robotic voice came in to read the numbers out as they grew smaller and smaller in ten second intervals. Jack was becoming increasingly convinced he was dreaming, before a new voice replaced the robotic one.
"In order to remind the Districts that our fragile peace can be broken at any moment, without warning, the 95th Hunger Games will begin... now."
His eyes widened in horror. Now? They were supposed to have two more days to prepare! He wasn't ready now! And what... what was he supposed to do? He took a glance over of himself in a mirror to see how horrible he looked at present, with a streak of dried blood running down his right cheek. His hair was disheveled. It was like 3 in the morning. And he was all alone.
Wait.
No. He had a district partner on this floor somewhere, and surely Lethe and Lysander were still in their rooms as well. How did they all factor into this? He quickly snagged a paper towel from the counter to wipe the blood away, then b-lined for Lysander's room. Maybe she would know what to do. Stood outside, he knocked with urgency. "Hey! Hey, uh, something weird is happening! You in there?" His heart raced in his chest, panic and adrenaline beginning to overtake shock. She didn't answer. "Lysander, seriously! They're saying-" He twisted the knob open to find the room completely empty. He crossed the hall to Lethe's room and found it equally as barren.
They were gone.
"FUCK!"
He turned to see his district partner standing in the hallway.
"It's just you and me," he said. The air was charged with a silent question- Jack realized for the first time seeing Bentley that if the games had started, that meant only one of them could live, if either. If this was the beginning, the other boy could've easily did what Jack's first thought was: make his way to the kitchen, pull a knife out of the block, and come back to find him. Sooner, rather than later. But Jack wasn't moving. None of it made sense, and it wasn't like there was a switch he could simply flip to become a ruthless killer.
The intercom crackled to life with a woman's voice.
"Hey besties! Head down to the Training Room, we're going to play some fun games for fabulous prizes!"
Jack waited for Bentley to move before he said anything.
"Uh-oh," Jack said in response, "Hope they don't punish us by making us do something horrible. Like participate in the Hunger Games, for instance." Oops. Too late for that one. Mateo handed over the joint and Jack leaned back to rest his head on the couch. He hadn't ever smoked before, always too set on his goals to allow anything that might slow him down past his lips. No drinking, no drugs. The only late nights he usually permitted for himself were training days before performances, when he had to be sure that Grimsby wasn't going to catch an attitude when it was time for him to jump through the hoop in front of a crowd, to make sure Phyria was standing all the way up on her hind legs when he ordered her to, rather than simply leaning back on her haunches.
If he was being honest, the sensation wasn't exactly his favorite. He felt floaty, and light, and giddy, but also a bit out of control. It was almost as if he was a guest in his own skin, simply passing through on his way someplace else. And he also was fairly certain it wasn't a good idea for him to smoke the entire thing. Luckily, the security team must've checked the cameras and saw the two boys on the roof, because five different peacekeepers filed out from the fire escape to force them back inside.
"Uh, see you around then," Jack said, standing rather unsteadily and smiling at his new friend.
He realized upon stepping into the elevator how hungry he was now, so rather than pressing the button to the 5th floor, he went all the way down to the ground floor, made his way to the dining hall. The kitchens would be closed for the night so he wouldn't be able to order anything, but he figured there would be plenty of refrigerated stuff, or at least bread and pastries left out in the serving baskets. Seeing the first floor with all its lights off was a curious, strange thing. Something haunted, almost. The place looked so much larger without all its little worker ants scurrying about it, and each step seemed to take him a slightly smaller distance than before.
It also made the presence of the only other person in the area that much more obvious. One of the girls from Four was on her way out, arms full of finger sandwiches and cinnamon rolls. Her hair was pulled back and her clear skin glowed in the faint light. Jack could tell just from looking at her that she was probably the kind of girl who had friends everywhere she went, probably rarely spent a weekend alone. His eyes flicked to the shelves she'd seemingly just emptied, and his stomach growled as if on cue. "Don't suppose you'd mind sharing some of that?" he said, his thoughts swimming.
The girl seemed reluctant, but eventually agreed, taking a seat at one of the empty tables. Jack took a seat next to her. "Jackson, by the way." She probably already knew. If Nessa Garner knew enough about him to know he'd raised lions back in District Five, he had no doubt an assumed career knew his name. Still, formalities and all that.
"Thanks."
Their meal was interrupted at some point by peacekeepers, even more than had been on the roof.
"Return to your rooms. Right now."
The woman's voice did an excellent job of sounding threatening, and she didn't have to repeat herself to Jack. He thanked his new friend again, kissing the back of her hand, and then made his way to the elevator. He thought it was strange that they'd been kicked out- maybe the hall needed to be cleaned and the cleaners weren't allowed to come in while tributes were there, or maybe they were just making sure Jack wasn't up to any trouble after smoking. He made it back to the 5th floor and sighed at how much like home it really was. The neon track lighting, the crisp, electric air.
He stumbled into his room and closed the door behind himself, stripping off his shirt and pants for bed. But before he could cross the room to the plush mattress, he noticed a strange haze filling the room. Is it really humid in here? His high brain thought, and then an instant later, he was crashing to the ground unconscious.
He woke several hours later to find that the fall reopened the wound on his nose he'd gotten in his Private Training Session. He sighed. It'd almost healed itself closed, and now the blood felt sticky as he separated his face from the floor. He was still wearing nothing other than his boxer with hearts on them, sitting up in a groggy haze. What the fuck had Mateo put in that joint? He groaned, his television screen on and displaying static which lit up the room in an eerie light. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and pulled on a pair of gray sweats, before exiting the room in confusion.
He saw the exact moment the static on the screens changed to something else. Each of them, pointing at him from every angle, began to display the same thing: a countdown. A robotic voice came in to read the numbers out as they grew smaller and smaller in ten second intervals. Jack was becoming increasingly convinced he was dreaming, before a new voice replaced the robotic one.
"In order to remind the Districts that our fragile peace can be broken at any moment, without warning, the 95th Hunger Games will begin... now."
His eyes widened in horror. Now? They were supposed to have two more days to prepare! He wasn't ready now! And what... what was he supposed to do? He took a glance over of himself in a mirror to see how horrible he looked at present, with a streak of dried blood running down his right cheek. His hair was disheveled. It was like 3 in the morning. And he was all alone.
Wait.
No. He had a district partner on this floor somewhere, and surely Lethe and Lysander were still in their rooms as well. How did they all factor into this? He quickly snagged a paper towel from the counter to wipe the blood away, then b-lined for Lysander's room. Maybe she would know what to do. Stood outside, he knocked with urgency. "Hey! Hey, uh, something weird is happening! You in there?" His heart raced in his chest, panic and adrenaline beginning to overtake shock. She didn't answer. "Lysander, seriously! They're saying-" He twisted the knob open to find the room completely empty. He crossed the hall to Lethe's room and found it equally as barren.
They were gone.
"FUCK!"
He turned to see his district partner standing in the hallway.
"It's just you and me," he said. The air was charged with a silent question- Jack realized for the first time seeing Bentley that if the games had started, that meant only one of them could live, if either. If this was the beginning, the other boy could've easily did what Jack's first thought was: make his way to the kitchen, pull a knife out of the block, and come back to find him. Sooner, rather than later. But Jack wasn't moving. None of it made sense, and it wasn't like there was a switch he could simply flip to become a ruthless killer.
The intercom crackled to life with a woman's voice.
"Hey besties! Head down to the Training Room, we're going to play some fun games for fabulous prizes!"
Jack waited for Bentley to move before he said anything.
