Raging Storm [Gay panic v Frigay day 4]

"You look cute when you're angry."

Mauve's voice rings through his skull; an echo of a firing gun wrecking through his brain as he can feel the annoyance bubbling through his chest. Tossing and turning through the night, ignoring the fear of anyone capable of killing him if he were to try and sleep. Mauve's cold eyes staring at him with that same chill of those mutts that ripped into his throat and made him bleed down the front of his uniform. The wind swirling around him as his head is pounding with words left and said.

"Oooooh, Bellamy, lovely, was that a threat?"

A threat from the boy who's seen enough death in his life only to volunteer to see more and more of it. A silence filling him with the sour taste of gunpowder and blood; swirling through his senses as he finally just sits up, gripping at his hair. There's pain in his body, where the wounds still peek out around the edges. Stitches holding his neck together and the bandages along his body making him feel heavy, but he stares up to no one. Alone with just Liara nearby, he can feel his own heartbeat in his throat. Annoyance at Mauve building and building like the storm around them; pressure along his skin breaking through the calmness he always manages to keep.

Lucas would hate Mauve with all his heart. The girl was insane, but Bellamy could see the usefulness in her craziness. The blood spilled by the mutts on the second day had been proof enough, but now he's alone with Liara. The girl who was dependable, but always at odds with Mauve and didn't like him for even being from the same place as her. A silence fills him as the anthem bleeds over ahead. The attractive guy from five staring down at him as he looks over to Liara, realizing Bubby's left them too. The guy had finally broke and Bellamy felt the annoyance bubbling once more.

"So much for teamwork."

The words are barely loud enough to feel right. His eyes roll against the anthem's skies as he lets the words hang in the air. Bubby and Mauve had showed their true self. Bellamy wasn't going to fault either of them, but if either of them died, it'd prove his point. His eyes follow along the dirt until he stares to the clouded skies wondering why Liara hasn't left him. Everyone else in his life had. Lucas. His father. His mother. Everyone's been gone for a long time. He's managed to pretend none of it hurt, but he still has the scars of the memories upon his tongue. The heartache always was there beneath the surface of his skin, etched marks upon the red stone cold parts of his heart. An ache that no one truly realizes is there.

Smart enough to not let anyone else get to close to him in fear of exposing everything he carries. Lucas had been close, but finding Sierra and him in that room had left his choking on the butterflies fluttering through his chest. The aching feeling of jealousy that built up in his throat coughing out the feeling of sorrow until he couldn't breath. Alone. He's been alone for so long, but he's used to it. Liara, Bubby, and Mauve were just tools to survive. Even if Liara has proven herself to be more than just a career who could fight. Even if Bubby's shown the softer parts of a person in just a few moments. Even if Mauve's changed him from the coward he's once been to someone he doesn't completely recognize.

"Stay or leave. Everyone else has left me." Liara's words hit him hard. The surprise sending him spiraling in a way that hurt more than he expected. Everyone's left her? Everyone's left him. His eyes focus back onto the earth as he stares at Liara with wide eyes for a moment. "The choice is yours." In just a moment, he's seeing her for the first time. A quietness to her tone that lingers with a feeling in his own chest. Understanding along his own features as he looks at her. Red hair tucked away, bright eyes staring upwards, and a girl who's been trained to be strong showing him something real. His eyes scan her for a moment before he looks back to the sky, letting his own thoughts race for a bit.

"I'll stay." The smile out of the corner of his eyes is enough to show he's made the right choice. A sorrow washes over him as he stares back to the stars, letting himself take a second to let the words come forth. "Everyone's left me before too. I know how it feels." Alone. Bellamy Scott's been alone for so long. Spent years by a windowsill watching the rain drip down the glass, imagining those dots to be a kingdom warring with the other raindrop kingdoms until connecting together into one. Mysteries of his own creation bubbling through his head as he stares to the perfect clouds as a kid. Every day had been a lonely one. Dying alone is what he expected to happen. Boys like him didn't have friends.

Looking over to Liara, he can see she's fallen asleep around some point when his own memories began to come forth. Watching her for a moment, he can feel the sorrows of his own life stick around. Asleep, he can see the peacefulness wash over her face and all he can do is reach out softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. His words drip with a softness as he starts laying back down a little bit away, setting himself up for sleep.

"Goodnight, Liara."

A loud crashing of thunder wakes him up. The sound of lightning and thunder echoing along his vision as he wakes up groggily. The rain starts with a downpour of water; the chill echoing across his skin as he stands up now, grabbing his pack. He should have set up his tent. Built them a shelter for the night, but he didn't want everyone else to be able to pick them out at the campfire. "Bellamy! We have to go!" Liara's the one he can hear as he's starting to see the water standing on the ground. Realizing how bad this is, he bites his lips of a sarcastic comment about the rain wouldn't melt him, but for once he's panicked. There's fear on his face as he starts running towards high ground. Liara's leading the way, much more accustomed to the exercise, but he's able to keep up fairly well out here.

The voice booms through the rain and he's already heading up with Liara. "Come on. Hurry. We have to get out of here." Rushing up the hiking trail, rain pouring across his outfit, bleeding the red away to the beige it once was. The gamemakers were angry with them. Bellamy couldn't tell exactly which way they've been running, but the rain's taken his energy. The exhaustion building up as the chill in his bones sets in. He's finally stepping up to catching up with Liara who's scanning the area around him. His heart hammering in his chest as he takes a breath, words slipping past his lips.

"Give me a sec-"

A second isn't what he gets as he watches the fire poker sail through the air straight for two people. His eyes start to catch up with his brain as he recognizes them both. The Eights. Fleur and Thread. His mind starts to try and remember what he can about each of them, but he's also annoyed. Liara didn't have to start a fight with the Eights. A sigh falls from his lips as he mumbles under his breath to no one. "Just had to be the Eights." Pulling his own fire poker out, he can feel the exhaustion in his body, he needed a moment to wait to strike. Finding out if they would attack would be better than just outright striking, but as soon as he hears Thread. He knows.

"I guess were enemies to them." Bellamy watches the strange guy pull the fire poker out knowing it hurts. "Hmmm..." Reading the guy's lips, he can see what he's saying. Those words weren't exactly hidden to him. "Looks like game makers wanted to see some vindication." The guy comes closer now, weapon threatening at him. There's an anger to his voice when he screams hey that just makes Bellamy more confused about this entire situation. Liara just had to pick a fight with the Eights. Couldn't have been like Eleven? He could take on the red haired kid for sure.

"I hope you see the irony in this." Irony? What irony? Bellamy had no idea what Thread was talking about. He's got nothing to do with the guy. Like sure, he's not completely helpless in a fight or in the arena; setting up traps for unsuspecting people. Thread could have stepped onto his battery trap, but he doesn't remember much of where everyone else went after day one. A silence falls over him as he listens once more for the answer to finally become clear. "I guess that this one is going to be for Stitch." Blood comes from his arm as the answer clicks into place. Past games. Now everything finally made sense. Bellamy Scott wasn't like Akira Sokatoa. Blood drips with pain from his arm as he pulls back, avoiding more damage than needed.

Fleur picks this moment to send a knife flying towards his hand. Blood drips as Bellamy pulls it out, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes flash through his own memories of the past games. Stitch was ages ago. Nine years since the guy died to Akira in the arena. Did Thread really want to kill him for something almost a decade ago? It's not like he had anything to do with it. Bellamy's from Three, but he isn't all of Three. A silence fills him as he lets the pain wash over him. For a moment, he's mad Liara attacked these two, but it was bound to happen anyways. Killing tributes was the point of the games. He didn't really want to be like the person who killed his father or Mauve, but if he had to, he would.

"That was like ages ago, dude." His eyes scan the area around them, making sure the water is flowing past them and not sticking around. If none of them were safe, then all of them would die. Finding shelter from the flooding was priority, but setting himself comfortable in his own spot, he could see there was no other options here. The gamemakers would want blood whether it was his or someone else's. "Get over yourself, dude. It's been nine years. I haven't done shit to you." Stepping forward, he can feel his own heart in his chest racing. Rain pouring over his skin mixing with the blood on his arm, reigniting what pain is still there.

"You really had to pick a fight with the Eights, Liara? Especially the one who assumes Three needs to be what? Punished? Shown revenge?" He looks over to Thread not caring if the guy is keeping up with the conversation. A grimace on Bellamy's face as he pulls forward once more as he sets himself up to strike. Ignoring the way he doesn't quite want to fight against actual people, but it was him or Thread and Bellamy really liked being able to breath. Mauve and Bubby could be who knows where in this storm and he was stuck with Liara starting fighting with an Eight taking revenge for a brother who's been dead for nine years. "Like boo freaking hoo? Kill someone who actually cares."

The irony is he's been looking for his father's killer for longer, but no one else needs to know that. Mauve's better at pushing people's buttons than him, but he's been learning. Pulling his fire poker forward, he lets the rain streak across the blackened end of it, staring right back at him. Bellamy wasn't a killer yet. He's afraid of hurting anyone. He's afraid of being in the arena, but he has to put on a brave face and pretend he's not. Liara was with him. He could do this. She believed in him. He wasn't alone. Neither was she.

They could do this.

He could do this.

The sound of a smoking gun rings.

Gunpowder replaced by blackened metal.

Blood drips red along blackened metal.

"I couldn't see who it was, but they were coming towards us." Pain blossoms from his wounds, burning with the same fire as gunpowder when a gun fires and a boy screams. His eyes follow Liara for a moment as he watches her move to strike. A silence fills him as he can feel his heart beating in his chest heavy. The world around him raining down. The rain reminding him of those clear kingdoms of teardrops along the glass. His fingers wanting to brush against them like Lucas' sunshine smile. The memories of dreaming he could reach out and touch the sun, but he's the moon. Quiet and always there with a sorrowful look. Never quite alright, but never quite horrible.

The spear of Liara strikes with a fire he's not used to. A star in her own way; glittering with the sky. A match for his moon, but stars always glow brighter. A cut forward onto Eight's stomach, blood dripping from the wound to mix with the rain water of the day. Flowing down the side of the hill into the flooded world below them. A shadow of themselves forming beneath this storm as thunder roars behind him; echoes of anger in his heart, but he bites down those thoughts.

"I don't hold anything against you." Eight shakes his head as if to prove a point. The wounds along his arm and hand would disagree with that statement, but he keeps his mouth shut for a little longer. "Just three in general. If it wasn't for three, my brother might have come out of this foresaken place." The truth sits with those words. He doesn't hold anything against him, except being from Three. Akira Sokatoa took this guy's brother and somehow, Three's been foresaken for that. Bellamy feels sick at hearing those words come from Eight, but a boy who doesn't want to listen won't here.

"You sure do whine a lot for someone that is going to die here." Memories of kids telling him the same. Telling him to hide away in his room or stay by the window where he belongs. A kid obsessed with his own father's death and mysteries of books; a freak in their eyes. Bellamy rolls his eyes at Eight. Hypocrisy isn't cute. Bellamy hated guys like Thread Gabel who wanted to be stuck in their own head; focus on the worst part of the world. A guy like Thread needed some sunshine in his life, but Bellamy wasn't going to help him. He's the moon. Dark and stuck in the black ocean of the night; glittering a path of his own. Helpful from time to time, but a nuisance to others. "Quit the bitchin, you are only going to make this worse on yourself."

Moving out of the way, slipping through the mud, the spear connects with his neck barely, creating more blood in the same wound as the day before. Pain blossoming up once more. "It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do," The voice barely registers in his ears as he turns quickly to look for the girl. The rain's giving her cover from his eyes, but he's not complaining. This is the hunger games. Anything was possible in the arena. A downpour seemed less impressive than what he knew the capitol could do with their machines. After all, his father helped build some of them. "It only matters what you’re going to do now. And that’s not killing me or my friend." His eyes are quicker than his body, but he manages to get out of the way. Blood streaking across his stomach, but he bites down the pain. There was more pressing matter to attend to.

Like trying to stay alive and kill one of them.

"Holding nothing against me? Sure bud, whatever you want to tell yourself." His eyes look back to Eight as he holds the spear threateningly once more. "Maybe it's not Three's fault for what one guy did? Your brother could have just been better. Cry about it to someone who cares. Panem sure as hell doesn't." The rain patters around him as he continues. "Everything matters. Justifying yourself so you can kill me. Oh, a tribute nine years ago from the same district killed his brother. Oh you aren't going to kill us. Sure, I whine, but who doesn't. No one wants to die, but unfortunately, that's the truth here." A pause as he feels the pain blooming heavy. "Everyone else has to die, except one of us, so just say you want to kill me rather than blaming it on something nine years ago out of bother of our control."

Pushing forward, he can feel himself bleeding. The wound while superficial this time were heavy with the ache of the last few days or so. Bellamy Scott could talk for hours even while injured, but he didn't know how much of a smart mouth he could keep playing up. He's afraid of dying. He doesn't want to die. He wants to live and see the sunshine back home. Lucas deserves to never let his shine fall. "I wouldn't be so sure of yourselves. The only ones making this worse are you." The capitol was going to eat up his arguing. They loved the drama and he was making sure to give them all of it, even if he's afraid. Life or death. That's the world they were trapped in. Pushing forward, he looks to Liara, hoping she understands him. They needed to end this fast. He was hurt and there's only so much he can do. Bellamy Scott was dying and he didn't want to.

He barely made it out of the mutt fight yesterday.

Bellamy didn't want to be Eight's pathetic message of vengeance.

"The only one who is dying here is you, Eight."

Pushing forward, he swings with his heart. He didn't want to die. He was afraid. He had to keep fighting. Life or death; these questions bloom through his head. His eyes staring around the area looking for another way, but fighting was the only way. Liara had his back. He had to hope Liara wouldn't leave him. He had told her he wouldn't leave her. He couldn't leave her. Enough people had left them both. Bellamy wasn't going to let himself die here. There was more at stake than his own life. Liara needed him and he needed her.

It was the only way.