born on the scene | {leon/fantom}

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

{ f a n t o m ♛ p e r c h }
i stood for nothing
so i fell for everything

I still can't believe Leon Krigel was in my home. We've had people before, Father claims, but I wasn't around for any of the special ones. Everyone that has stepped though those doors wearing the title "Guest of Honor" has been a bit of a disappointment, and then my idol, the person I refused to leave my room for fear of missing him do something great for, the person I will be some day.

The crazy thing, I realized after he left, is that he is a normal person. He may be hardened by the games, sure, but who wouldn't be? I imagined, albeit embarrassingly, him being this grand noble super star like in the story books people read as children, but he is just like me. He has flesh and blood and painful memories and he is trying his hardest to put the shattered remains of his humanity together and I can relate to that, being from a family that has to always always always be perfect.

As our conversations with him carried on I found myself more and more comfortable, and when it was time for him to go I invited him to join us again any time, something that shocked perhaps every living soul in the room since I have a tendency of being a bit... disgusted, annoyed, harsh, bitter, bored, reserved around our guests.

However, despite the Victor's claim that he would, it has been a few weeks and he still has not shown up. I can't blame him, I suppose. The life of a victor is always busy, I would imagine: Interviews and photoshoots and being whisked away to this event and that at the Capitol. I suppose I cannot blame him for not daring to care about someone as measly as a teenager from his home town.

Honestly, these facts did not stop me from coming home from school every day and peering out of my window a few times to see if he was coming, rushing to the door every time a fist pounded into the hard surface hoping it might be him, but nothing.

But today is different. Today when I get home, he is already in my home. He sits on my living room couch with my father, whose hands were folded together in his lap with several stacks of papers between the two. I imagine they are preparing for the upcoming games. Since Leon is really the only recent victor we have had, I think Dad agreed to help out as he always has, campaigning for the tributes, asking favors in the form of sponsorship.

"Oh, uh, Dad!" I placed a hand on his shoulder and sneaked in a peak at the papers scattered between them. It was all a jumbled mess of words and numbers and charts and none of it made any sense to me. Pity. I look over to Leon, plastering a grin I already know looks stupid on my face and running my left hand through my hair. He looks as healthy as ever. He is dressed nice, perhaps nicer than my father or I, and his hair is pushed out of his eyes to reveal a set of two brilliant orbs of azure. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

To what do I owe the pleasure.

It is times like these I am thankful that my father is the Mayor, that he is the voice of our district and everyone has to come to him to hear anything worth listening to. It gives me a lot of opportunities, I think, though certainly not any advantages as far as the games go. If I could have it my way, I would have already been in an arena and won by now, I would be living next door to Leon and we would be best friends, I would finally be doing things that my father would be proud of.

But no, I am stuck here for now, with my fingers crossed and stars in my eyes.

[анзие (Anz)]

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it's irresistible

[attr="class","anziescroll"] He's got a plan and gets to it like he's driven by some kind of motivation he doesn't know still exists in his framework. Like some kind of demon possessing a need for this all Leon has set wheels in motion that may never actually touch the ground. And maybe it's not plausible - maybe ten years down the road Leon will look back and realize just how little this plan is worth - but what he's got is better than his dreams making caricatures of his tributes' deaths. And without a doubt it's certainly better than lying awake at night in his new roommate's arms, listening to the silence of the house around them and thinking about Nat and Arissa - about how Nat is fourteen, about how Arissa is reapable. It's better than remembering how Finn is just the same. It's better than feeling his throat seize, his heart darken with a weight it may never have to carry - and one thing he has learned from the whole... thing is that it's always better to be prepared. A stroke of luck brings him to the attention of Mayor Perch, the older man willingly helping him spin the right gears while Leon struggles to hide his own demons from the why's of it all. Fuck if Leon doesn't necessarily understand the graphs or even the given figures he scribbles down that list upwards at the end of the page - but he tries. Fuck, he's trying. He's trying. Fault me otherwise. Leon's hands are shaking from the effort of comprehension like it's not quite draining enough for him to breathe. ("Breathe," Finn says into his skin, and Leon flounders and drowns to the weight of his own conscience.) He places the book delicately upon the table and presses trembling fingers to his temple. Like a choked breath his thoughts swirl and comes in a gentle G-od. Everything this involves takes so much more than he could ever have imagined. But I can't give up. Leon closes his eyes briefly, pulling his hair out of his face. Take a minute. He exhales, and the shaking slows as he forcibly calms his heart. If Fabian notices, he says nothing. "Oh, uh, Dad! To what do we owe the pleasure?" Leon looks up at the voice, schooling his expression into that of calm amusement as he takes in Fantom Perch. It's still new, you talking to me. A part of him urges him to play, play like he used to - and fuck it, why not? The part of his mind that was preparing to crack laughs, and he thinks, I need a break. "Your father was just helping me with some... plans I had in mind." Leon leans back against his seat as he runs his gaze slowly over the other boy. "But we were just taking a break." He glances at Fabian and holds out his hand to the Mayor. "I'll be back tomorrow, sir." A quick handshake later, Leon is on his feet, his notebook in his bag; he looks Fantom over once again and offers a slow smile. "Walk me to the door?" he murmurs, low enough that only the boy can hear. When the truth catches up with me eventually-

[attr="class","anzieside"] [attr="class","anziehover"] leon krigel victor of the 67th games i’ll be as honest as you’ll let me i miss your early morning company

district 4

nineteen

male

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