in the dark, we come out & {play} || (open to d2 teens)

[Lux]

C O M E S E E T H I S C I T Y W I T H M E

S P E N C E R ▲ H E N L E Y

Standing parallel to the mirror before him, the dark-haired boy evaluated his profile. The mirror is his nemesis. Crooked nose with huge nostrils, bulging Adam's apple, asymmetrical eyes and lips, round and protruding chin—criticizing his own appearance has become some sort of comfort for Spencer. Seizing his favorite cologne, he gave four sprays of the musk to his body. “Don’t want to smell like rotten eggs for my guests,” he joked, allowing himself to chuckle out the anticipation.

Spencer surveyed the state of his house, starting at the entrance to get a guest’s perspective. The front door opened to a sprawling room encompassing the living room, kitchen, and dining area. Centered in the living room, two brown leather love-seats are slanted in arrangement to form a triangle around a low-to-the-ground coffee table. Heaps of magazines and decorative ornaments sit on the coffee table to serve as conversation fodder. Painted a rich brown, the walls of the house are lined with pictures of artificial happiness. A family unit appearing cohesive at first glance, but the forced and uncanny smiles communicate another implication of passive-aggressive malice.

Mahogany cabinets with ceramic counter-tops wrap around the far right corner of the room, where the kitchen is located. The silver refrigerator, stocked with an abundance of frozen dishes, looms behind the maple bar bedecked with bowls of mixed nuts, fruits, and cheese blocks. Below the kitchen sink, a newly changed wastebasket braces itself for another overflow. A window rests beyond the sink, opening to the Henley’s barren backyard at evening, devoid of any trace of activity.

A faint aroma of vanilla pervades the expanse of the first floor, originating from a cluster of lit candles set upon the dining room table to the left of the kitchen. A red and green checkered tablecloth lies neatly over the eating place, which is pushed against the wall to permit more space for the guests to congregate in. Decidedly off-limits, the second floor is reached by a staircase which is stationed on the right side of the house visible from the entrance.

I don’t like parties or even people this much. Why must I do this to myself? Spencer would much rather be alone cooped up in his bed, immersed in a book, than be hosting some poor excuse for a soirée. You’re doing this to put yourself out there, to make a host of new friendships. A cause and effect pattern of criticizing himself and then quickly reassuring himself went back and forth in his conscience. Standing by the doorway, he glanced at his vintage watch and tapped his foot impatiently, "They should all be here any minute. I didn't hand out those invitations at the Career Training Center in vain."

T E M P L A T E B Y C H E L S E Y

[lyss]

this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down

_______________________________________________________

O R I O N C Y G N U S
DISTRICT2 | SEVENTEEN | MALE

_______________________________________________________

Now that the Games had come to a close, the boys back at the training center had been cracking down hard. The trainers had harangued about the potential that the Pine boy had had and how the trainees should try to model themselves after finishing or near-finishing tributes. Orion had gladly taken up this opportunity and was allowed the bliss of sitting in a storage room watching tapes of old games with a chip bag in one hand and cheap alcohol in the other. Being a long-time veteran of the center definitely had its perks for Orion, proven by the look on his face as he lazily fast-forwarded through the bloodbath of the 60th games. He knew that his fellow trainees outside the locked door were getting a rough beating, and, for the moment, he was glad he was the teacher's pet he was.

As Orion rolled through the tapes of three games, the window for seventeen-year-old boy's training session passed, and the time for him to pack up came. He tossed his waste in a large bin in the corner and fumbled around with the buttons on the ancient television before the screen finally went dark. A line of eyes glared at the boy as he pushed open the wooden door and sauntered down to claim his spot at the end of the line. If they didn't know any better, they might think I had just been snogging someone, he mused. A moment later, the head trainer of their group came out and dismissed the starving boys back to their homes.

As Orion turned on his heel, he noticed that none of the boys were in their usual rush to get home. In fact, they all seemed to be crowding a boy he believed to be Spencer, collecting small cards from him. The lone boy approached the circle and seized a card that had been fluttering to the ground. He briefly peered at the image on the cover before folding it back and devouring the contents inside. A party. Tonight. Parties weren't usually his thing, but he knew all the boys were tired and would take up any offer to goof off at a house that wasn't theirs. Orion trying to grab Spencer's attention to give him some sort of indication that he would be attending, but the boy was too busy entertaining the remaining group.

Orion's home was an abbreviated walk from the center, so he was able to take his time getting ready for the jubilee awaiting him. He positioned himself in front of his full length mirror and contemplated how to set his look for the night. He opted for a semi-formal look-a dark polo shirt and denim shorts. He lacked almost any knowledge in the fashion department, and he liked to believe that that was a good excuse for not going out and trying to make friends. Orion was often embarrassed of his appearance, and his fear of being ridiculed overwhelmed him. He hated how awkward he looked when he smiled; he hated the acne peppered his face. The only thing he seemed to admire was the thick mess of hair on his head.

His hair was his way of expressing himself, and that was the reason why it was nearly a prized possession. His parents had allowed him to dye it any color under the rainbow at any time. Recently, he had dipped his hair in raven black coloring, and he had to admit, it contrasted well with his light skin. Tonight, he slicked his hair up with gel, tousling it until it appeared to look effortless. Orion struggled to refrain from bashing the lanky figure staring at him and eventually gathered his things, trekking to an unfamiliar place south of his house.

The march to the host's house wasn't as bad as he expected. He didn't run into any fellow trainees on the way, and he prayed that he was headed the right way. He had triple-checked the invitation before he left, and he began to panic that he might have misread the time. After a long while of debating, he arrived at the house he believed to be Spencer's. Orion approached the elegant door towering in front of him and raised his fist to the wood. He took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles on the door three times and swallowed harshly. Nervously, he cleared his throat and let his voice rise. "Spencer?" he inquired, praying he was at the right address.

_______________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[Lux]

C O M E S E E T H I S C I T Y W I T H M E

S P E N C E R ▲ H E N L E Y

Attending to some last-minute party business in the kitchen, Spencer’s thoughts went to the night sky. A conglomeration of interstellar, celestial bodies suspended in vast emptiness, stars have captivated him from a young age. His beloved uncle once had purchased a rather elaborate telescope for the dark-haired career in commemoration of his nephew's tenth birthday. Spencer reminisced through a surge of poignant memories, relishing in the heavenly nostalgia.

A faint knock-knock-knock reverberated throughout the house, and Spencer rolled his eyes contemptuously. You think they would realize that there’s such a thing called a doorbell. Another noise, clearly resembling the sound of Spencer’s name, came from the door. The dark-haired boy stuck his hand to his forehead and produced an indistinct groan. Really? Couldn't wait for me to reach the door, could you? He hastened to the door with a skip in his stride, a tell-all sign of his subdued apprehension. Spencer propped himself up against the side of the doorway, one of his hands resting behind his head. The tall, slender boy stuck his sharp nose in the air and flared his nostrils, attempting to get across an air of sophistication. Unlatching the door with his free hand, he coolly collected himself for (what he expected to be) an onrush of polished, refined socialites.

Much to his disappointment, all that awaited him at the open door was a strangely familiar, lone boy. Oliver, is it? No, that can’t be right. Spencer had seen this—avant-garde—fellow somewhere before, he just had trouble putting his finger on it. Feeling pressured to utter some sort of conversational drivel to break the uncomfortable silence, the restless host regaled with a reserved countenance, “Good evening. I assume you’re here for the little get-together, no?” Cutting the boy off with a complacent wave of his hand, Spencer sarcastically interjected, “Well you’re a lucky one, aren't you? I dismissed the bouncer before you showed up—would've been quite a shame if you hadn't been let in. Come in, come in.”

Strutting into the wide expanse of the living room, the dark-haired host pirouetted and gave a little curtsy to his guest. “Well, this is my lovely abode. Believe it or not, you’re actually my first guest tonight.” Escorting his visitor into the kitchen with the direction of his hands, Spencer uncomfortably poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher. His words became jumbled and dense, evidence of the suppressed display of tension. “I don’t believe we've met before, but I must say, that’s quite the...alternative hairstyle you have there. May I ask where you acquire your dyes? Oh, and before I forget, you are welcome to the snacks on the bar if you feel famished.” Spencer’s Adam’s apple dipped as he guzzled a glob of water, “I-I'm sorry, I haven’t even asked what your name is. You are...?”

T E M P L A T E B Y C H E L S E Y

[Marrs ღ (FAF)]

"We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry."

Daniel Parker
DISTRICT2 | SEVENTEEN | FEMALE

---

"You are not focused, child." 

I mash my lips together against the string of profanities that threaten to spill from my mouth. Don't dis the trainer, don't dis the trainer. 

"Sorry, Sir." There, I said it. Now bow to my limitless self-control and show me some sign of your appreciation. 

He grunts and nods once. Oh, Obsidius. You never do disappoint. 

Paying no mind to his lack of enthusiasm, I turn my attention back to the dummies in front of me. They're attached to some kind of complex machinery and are jerking around in the air so fast, it's almost impossible to aim. 

I swallow thickly and try to form a pattern for them. Left, right, down, right, down, up, right, down... 

Defeated, I squeeze my eyes shut and launch the dagger from my hand. 

A sigh coming from my trainer's side indicates that I've missed but I take a quick peek to make sure. Damn, I thought I was getting better.  

A quick glance at my watch tells me it's time to go home. I rise from my former position on the floor, groaning against the pain in my calves. Giving Obsidius a small wave, I promise to come back for more training tomorrow.

I'm not entirely sure why I'm in such a good mood, today. I feel like skipping my way home; it's rather frightening.

I finally come to notice some people flocking around a boy in the main entrance lounge. He's handing out some kind of cards to everyone and I, out of curiosity, join in.

And now I'm going to a party.

I've never been much of a partier.

All of my clothes are resting in a pile on the bed. Do I want to like I'm there to have sex with a stranger? No. But do I want to look good? Yes.

I'm groaning, hitting my fore-head on the wall and pulling at my hair in frustration. WHAT DO I  WEAR?

A few more minutes of fussing around and I finally decide on a pair of jeans and a tank top. Mascara on the eyelashes, hair done up in a messy bun and I am done.

I tell my father I'm going out. Of course, he's a bit busy making out with some gorgeous blonde on the couch, so he doesn't notice.

The address given isn't far from my own place; I reach it easily and let myself in. I mean, you aren't supposed to knock when you're already invited, are you?

"Hi!" I wave enthusiastically at the two boys in front of me, knowing very well that I look like a complete idiot. 

This better be worth it.

---

template by chelsey

[lyss]

this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down

_______________________________________________________

O R I O N C Y G N U S
DISTRICT2 | SEVENTEEN | MALE

_______________________________________________________

A moment after Orion knocked, the door was thrown open, a collected boy standing behind it. Spencer was propped up against the doorway, a hand laced through the short hairs on the back of his head. He couldn’t say that he was upset by the disappointed look on Spencer’s face; Orion knew that he was probably expecting the big group of talkative boys from the training center. He felt the need to apologize, but he knew that wouldn’t get him any points with Spencer. Instead, he quietly stood, almost in a cower, while he listened to what he assumed to be a greeting.

“Good evening. I assume you’re here for the little get-together, no?”

He opened his mouth to make a joke about how he had thought he had shown up at the wrong address, but he was waved off.

“Well you’re a lucky one, aren't you? I dismissed the bouncer before you showed up—would've been quite a shame if you hadn't been let in. Come in, come in,” he spoke with sarcasm.

“Lucky indeed,” Orion chuckled as he followed Spencer into what was one of the more lavish homes of the district. He tried to swallow all the furniture with his eyes as Spencer curtsied. A pair of brown leather love-seats are sat around a low coffee table. The table was overflowing with stacks of magazines and decorative ornaments.. The walls surrounding the two boys were a warm brown, and the pictures tacked to the surface added an even more homey touch. Orion’s eyes ran along the room until they landed back on the host, who had begun to speak again.

“Well, this is my lovely abode. Believe it or not, you’re actually my first guest tonight.”

Surprisingly enough, he had not realized that fact. He thought that maybe the rest of the gang was downstairs playing a game of pool or something similar. Now he could hear the uncomfortable silence that resonated through the house and cringed a little.

“I’m still wondering if this is the right house,” he joked. “I figured you all would be already submerged in a party by the time I got here.”

Spencer drove him deeper into the house, into a kitchen that had to be featured in some Capitol home magazine. Orion cautiously propped himself up on the ceramic counter and silently watched as the boy fetched himself a glass of water. Orion ran his hand absentmindedly through his hair, praying that one of the boys pal’s would show up soon and break the thick tension between the near strangers. Spencer paused from his drink and began to ramble nervously.

“I don’t believe we've met before, but I must say, that’s quite the...alternative hairstyle you have there. May I ask where you acquire your dyes? Oh, and before I forget, you are welcome to the snacks on the bar if you feel famished.”

“No, we’ve never been formally introduced,” Orion chuckled and pushed a drooping hair up from his forehead. “There’s an ex-stylist that runs a salon near here, actually. He has every color dye under the sun. I must admit, he’s quite fantastic.”

The tension creeped back up on the pair as Spencer swallowed more water.

“I-I'm sorry, I haven’t even asked what your name is. You are...?”

“It’s alright! I’m Orion Cygnus. I guess you must be Spencer, or did I really go to the wrong house?”

Orion wrung his hands nervously; he’d only been to two other parties in his lifetime. He was utterly terrified that he’d find some way to embarrass himself quickly. He knew that he was probably doing such by not removing his eyes from Spencer, but he really couldn’t help himself. The boy had already proven to be much more sophisticated than the usual meatheads he trained with-and a lot more easy on the eyes, too. In the midst of his admiring, he heard approaching footsteps followed by a feminine voice.

He heard a girl call out a greeting, his brain was a little too foggy to decipher it, and turned around to smile at his fellow guest.

_______________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[Lux]

C O M E S E E T H I S C I T Y W I T H M E

S P E N C E R ▲ H E N L E Y

Orion Cygnus. What a name. Stretching his arms with a disgruntled yawn, Spencer rolled his glossy eyes. So...Orion, care to see me humiliate myself some more? I’m only this socially awkward when I have guests around, I promise. Spencer never felt so bored or self-conscious when he was by himself. He thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention, but as the topic switched to something other than his achievements he would become cold and withdrawn. It was a defense mechanism of sorts—the moment he felt overlooked or persecuted he would clamp shut and become bitter.

The disdainful boy half-heartedly dragged the stool out from under the bar, the legs of the chair grating against the linoleum. Positioning himself in the seat, he cradled his head with his thumb pressed against his jaw and the rest of his fingers supporting his temples. A pronounced sigh escaped his lips, his blue-gray eyes concentrated away from his guest. Well this is just fucking wonderful. As if on cue, the more sensible part of his conscience nagged. Remember you have a guest to tend to, Spencer. Try not to make so much of an ass of yourself this time.

A curious inkling gestated in Spencer’s conscious as he traced Orion’s gaze along his figure. Raising his head up from its reticent position, he probed with a voluntary smile, “I couldn’t help but to notice you staring at me. What do you see that you...uh like?” Reaching down to the part of his pink-and-blue gingham shirt bundled up at his waist, Spencer smoothed out the wrinkles and adjusted it over his rump. A cocky half-smile manifested on his lips as he raised one of his neatly-trimmed eyebrows. Just as Spencer opened his mouth as if to ask another risqué question, the crackle of his voice was drowned out by a girl who spoiled the escalating sexual tension.

Hi? You come into MY house without knocking while I’m TRYING to get some comfort sex, and you have the audacity to bellow only a simple greeting? Spencer could feel his face turning cherry-red underneath all the foundation. The dark-haired career debated in his thoughts whether to cut the poor girl down and send her home right now or to salvage his shipwrecked chance with Orion by diverting the girl for a quantity of time. The latter seemed practical and down-to-earth, but the former sounded so much more...cathartic. His desirability had already taken quite the fall with his rather shameless display of unconstrained sexuality. Orion doesn't see the monster. Why not try to save it while you still can?

His heartbeat thump-thump-thumped in his chest as he attempted to get across the illusion of affability; he knew good and well that it took only an artificial air to convince people of his facade—Only takes a bit of makeup and contrived emotion. Composing himself for the performance, he turned to face the pallid-complexioned girl. In a brusque staccato, Spencer hissed, “Hm? What do we have here? Another guest?”

T E M P L A T E B Y C H E L S E Y

[Marrs ღ (FAF)]

Daniel Parker
I'M JUST AN EAGLE IN A CAGE

Maybe some people just aren't okay with strangers entering their homes before knocking.

In my defence, I've never been to that many parties before. How would I know, eh? I mean, the lavish company events my father organizes are completely a different thing. This is, well, a party.

I have to admit that the house is stunning. The design is something you'd most likely see sprawled over my father's office desk; It's open and airy, yet the earth-toned walls lined with family portraits provide a radiant warmth that would otherwise be missed. Two brown leather sofas take residence in the middle of the room, surrounding a stylish coffee table topped with magazines and a few decorative ornaments.

But that's not the first thing I notice.

It seems that I've interrupted something a tad bit more than just idle chatter. My face flushes as I take in the the two boys in the open kitchen; one propped up on the counter, and one seated on a stool near to it.

The way they're looking at each other is rather suggestive, but that could simply be nothing more than the outcome of my over-analysing brain.

Spencer, I recognize, looks at me with an accusing expression. “Hm? What do we have here? Another guest?”

Must. Not. Snark.

After all, I did enter his house without consent. I think I do deserve his bitter attitude, just a little bit.

The boy on the counter has a decent tendency to smile, though. I return it with a apologetic grin of my own.

A nervous laugh rings it's way out of my throat as I wave my hand dismissively in the air. What am I dismissing, exactly?

"I kinda...the door...sorry, I should have knocked."

I scratch the back of my head and decide that I should better introduce myself before further humiliation finds me.

"I'm Dia Parker." Not entirely sure if I'm allowed to step any farther than the privacy I've already invaded, I awkwardly stand there.
"So," I say, grinning good-naturedly. "Can I come in?"

template by chelsey

[goldskies]

: it was all for the g.l.o.r.y. :

                

: Lilac Dore : 18 : District Two :

Creak.

Dang it, I thought, trying to shut the window with a peeling white frame to my bedroom from my front yard. The grass was lush and green under my black heels. I wasn't made to maneuver in these, they dug into the yard and twisted my ankles. I tried to shut the window more quietly while hoping my parents wouldn't awake. I wanted to go to this party so badly. They wouldn't like parties. Especially mother. I tiptoed in the dusk, shoving my shuttle pass into my pocket. The sun was setting behind my cookie-cutter house.

When I arrived at Spencer's house it was already starting to get dark. As my heels clicked on the pavement to his house a few things ran through my mind. I'm overdressed. What if this is like the last party? What if I don't know anybody? What if I'm too loud? What if I'm too quiet?

I made up for my insecurities my walking faster and holding my head a bit higher, my purple hair bouncing behind me like it was supposed to for once. Until I tripped on the crack in the pavement and stumble. Great. My ankle throbbed. I keep walking until it stopped. When I reached the door I couldn't hear any gleeful screaming or cups sloshing or music pounding, which was a good sign. It meant if I was caught then at least my parents wouldn't be too mad. I'd been to parties before, but never one I wasn't supposed to be at. I bit my full lips with my two crooked front teeth four inches from the door. I hurriedly wiped the dark purple lipstick off my teeth with my satin sleeve. Why on earth did I wear the blue satin blouse? Why do I feel the need to impress people? I couldn't just come in a shirt and jeans like every other normal person? Well, at least I got the jeans right. They were tight in the thighs and loose around the calves. Uncomfortable for someone used to wearing athletic shorts and tank tops. I stood at the door indecisive. Did other people knock at parties? I didn't know. I was used to arriving alone. I pressed a fingertip to the doorbell and waited, tapping the toe of my black heel out of nervousness, not impatience. It had barely been a few seconds. I realized what I was doing and stopped.

I'll trip. I'll laugh too loud. I'm too early.

But dammit I'll have fun.

: 418 words :
template by meghan

[lyss]

this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down

_______________________________________________________

O R I O N C Y G N U S
DISTRICT2 | SEVENTEEN | MALE

_______________________________________________________

“I couldn’t help but to notice you staring at me. What do you see that you...uh like?”

Orion's cheeks lit up like tail-lights at Spencer's question. "I, uh," he fumbled, trying to piece together a cohesive sentence. "You're just a lot more elegant than most boys-people, actually- that I've met." He brought his hand to the back of his head and tugged nervously at a few strands, hoping the tension would be broken soon. His eyes traced Spencer's body as his hands smoothed his shirt over his body, a half-smiled cocked on his lips. Both boys seemed to open their jaws to say something, when the girl he had heard from before became more prominent.

Spencer seemed infuriated by the girl's appearance, but Orion was slightly relieved to have something to break the building tension for a moment. He absentmindedly popped his knuckles while the two seemed to have a stare-down of sorts. Eventually, Spencer seemed to cool down and managed to hiss out a short greeting. “Hm? What do we have here? Another guest?”

The girl laughs nervously and waves her hand, as if brushing off Spencer's comment. "I kinda...the door...sorry, I should have knocked."

Orion popped his last knuckle and gave the girl another crooked smile. I can help save this, maybe. He figured if the two boys could entertain her for a little while, then the sexual tension could have a chance to escalade again. In the midst of scheming a plan to create a less violent atmosphere, the girl stepped farther into the room and introduced herself.

"I'm Dia Parker." She smiled and fidgeted for a moment before asking, "So, can I come in?"

"Nice to meet you, Dia," he responded, a half fictitious smile gracing my lips. "I'm Orion Cygnus. I'd say it's alright to come in, but I guess it's up to the man of the hour, isn't it?" Orion took the opportunity to take a few steps closer towards Spencer and throw an arm around his shoulders, clapping his hand against the smooth fabric stretched tight over his chest.

_______________________________________________________
template by chelsey