grayson aristarkhov // six // finished

if i'm gonna fall in love

I've lived in this home alone for a long while now, it has gotten lonely, this bare old mansion and I. It has gotten lonely, the only thing heard inside my luxurious of a home can be the echoed footsteps of the avoxes and I. And my spirit roams this house, silent, unforgiven, and filled with hatred for the world, my soul and I. Roaming these halls, all I see is the reflection of my broken heart in the reflection of the marble floor, my empty hearted soul and I. All I can hear is the last words of my love; spoken as the gunshot ending his life. "I'm sorry." It used to be lively, feel lively in this house, my love and I. We lived happily, even when I first met him at school when we were just young boys, unaware of the games and being just kids. We were the closest friends, always by each others side even if we haven't had known what to say to each other because we both needed each other.

We were in love even as teenagers; hugs got exchanged often and we held hands all the time, a couple for everyone to see no matter what others thought about it, because it's love. Growing up was easy for me, him, not so much. He lived in the somewhat poorer areas of the district, and I spent most of the time there because he felt uncomfortable when he came to my house as it was filled with all the glamour and luxury he wasn't used to. My family was not much, just my parents and I. As we grew older, my love and I, we were happy. We were happy to be able to get to be alive because dying without the other would've been so much worse. We grew old together, as each of the reapings had drawn close and far away, I don't even care who wins anymore because it's bloody murder just like how they killed my love. It wasn't a pleasant thing to watch, as the last sound escaped his lips I had to watch him die.

It was during dinner, both of us were eating and as we both looked up and connected eyes, it felt as if we fell in love again. His warm eyes always reassured me that everything was fine, that we'd grow old together and that we'd be sitting at the fireplace in our living room every day together as the days lingered on, our love building a wall away from everyone else knowing that nobody could've stopped our love from becoming lost. The clock ticked, and we talked, my love and I. Though, what he asked me was strange to hear. "Grayson?" That's all I remember, the rest was a blur- the peacekeepers barging in, forcing him onto the ground on his knees, and then the shot that was followed by a yelp, as I watched him fall to the ground.

I had a rich childhood, my parents were surgeons and it was quite a good life in the thought of riches. We had no problem with food, no problem with clothing, nothing was wrong because my parents were perfect and they thought I was, too. So they treated me like I was, but I knew that I was so far, so far from being perfect. But he was perfect to me, I wanted to treat him like he was perfect but he didn't allow the treatment of that kind of luxury until we had gotten married. After we got married, he accepted the luxury of the house so fast it felt almost he already did live in this life before getting married. It felt as if he was used to the more sufficient lifestyle that I've been living for my entire life. Avoxes? He didn't really treat them in a bad way, but he seemed totally used to it. It was strange. But, we still lived happily. We lived together for many years, if I remember correctly our tenth wedding anniversary was coming up, and our love was forever.

What do I see in the mirror when I look in it besides a broken heart? That's simple, I see me. Though what do I fully see? That's what you need to know. I'm tall, standing at a towering six foot three, and honestly I wish that I were shorter because it makes it easier for me to be spotted inside of a crowd. When standing on a scale, it says that I weigh 214 pounds, quite a bit of it being fat but some of it being muscle. The male in front of me seems to always have a raised eyebrow, or a focused look on his face. I believe that I am handsome. At least more handsome than anyone else in district six, but that's just my ego talking. (Though, I'm not lying).

When looking in the mirror, all I see is a man with brown eyes. What to think about them; I'm not quite sure. He always told me that my eyes were his favourite thing that he saw when looking at me right away, so they must be beautiful, right? Or is it just a excuse for reassurance? No, he wouldn't do that, we love each other deeply and reassuring the other that they're beautiful isn't needed because we loved each other and we already know that they're beautiful.

Walking. Such an easy concept to learn and to master, it seems like a walk in the park for most people, but if you couldn't tell, I'm not most people. As a child when I loved to run and play, I had gotten chased into an alley by a couple of older people, around 25 years old (I think they knew I was rich,) and beat me until I'd given them money. By the time I did give them money, they had broken my left leg and a ton of bruises. How does that affect me? I could've just told my parents and they'd fix it up in a snap, right? The thing is, they didn't believe me. They always ignored me, and I always tried to make them notice me, but they never did. Sure, after a long time they noticed the problem but even after fixing it I had a limp because it went without going noticed so long.

I don't personally like that many other people, most of the time I just stick to staying in my home with nothing or nobody else to talk to. I get lonely, yes, but being by myself is preferable in my opinion. If you don't know why I don't like people, there's one reason that ice already stated to you why, because they took him away. Another is that people didn't necessarily treat me that nicely as a child and while growing up. Though that's just because they were jealous they didn't have my lifestyle. I don't really think nicely of other people, it normally is based on trust and relationship between me and the person, though they only gain my trust based on two things, looks and the wealth.

I know it sounds stupid due to being wealthy enough already, but I truly find myself getting along with those as rich as me. It's my kind of odd attraction to others, but I actually can fall in love easily and it's a bad thing because that leads to trust and then to me losing another love of my life. Children have always been a hopeful thing for me even though I am gay, I wanted children of my very own, but that's not possible to happen with another man. Adopting would be nice, but they're more likely to be rebellious and ill mannered, and I don't want that. I want the perfect child, not piggy, ill mannered, and rude.

I don't find people a very kind subject yet again and whenever people try to be nice to me, I end up being mean back. It's just an odd quirk of mine, I just assume they are being nice to me just so they can earn some quick money possibly from me, and quite honestly I won't stoop down to that level of foolishness. I can be a little bit rough at times, normally taking my anger of someone out on them physically until the problem is solved. The problem I had with them would be solved, but my constant thrown punches never have been or will be.

I used to beat him at one time. It's scary to imagine that I would do that yo him once before in the life he was alive in, but it's too brutal to imagine it without cringing how hard I was to him. Every time he denied his love for me I would go on a rampage, sending fist after fist and bruise after bruise on and implanting onto him. I found beating people a pleasure, a very, very filthy pleasure and I hate that even now I enjoy doing so. Though, there's nobody to use that anger on now, is there? This empty house and me.

grayson aristarkhov | six | male | thirty-four