kiss kiss fall in love // spin the bottle \\ @tributes

[gamemaker kelsier]

{  M O R D E C A I W U   }

 

There's a space in my head where my brain used to live and a break in my heart where I kept Tobias.

Did I throw him out?

No, I think he broke out of me, he's in my bloodstream, running and falling away down my drains, he's draining me.

There's no ocean here. The walls climb up and up around in big pieces of blank wall and something in me yells, the remembrance of where I was, buried deep in the ground for three years, stuck in my throat, a lump that I can't swallow past. Even if it's four stories high, it's just another cage.

There's a remote in my room. You can use it to flick on the wall beside the bed and make any image you want appear. When I flipped through the channels I found the ocean there, not my ocean, not the one in four. A different ocean that I don't think really exists.

There was a not slipped under my door last night, telling me to come to the roof, to bring a bottle. I found a squat green one on the shelf in the dining room. I drank a bit from it and it tasted like licorice. I remember being eight and my mother giving me a handful of coin to use at the markets in the District Square. Tobias and I used to spend it on candies.

I press my fingers to my chest carefully, like I'm trying to connect my heart back to my veins and arteries so that Tobias can find his way home. I think about him in the justice building.

"If you didn't want to be around me all you had to do was say so."

I open the bottle in my hand and drink some of it, coughing at the strong taste stuck in my throat from it. I spend my days in the training room, hefting a spear over my head as if I'm ten years old again and I am learning how to fish. I'm not sure if I can remember. The drink leaves a bitterness in the back of my throat, sticky and corrosive. It isn't there if my mouth is full so I drink some more.

The bottle is half empty by the time I make it to the roof.

I haven't been up here yet. My eyes go up to look at the stars, searching for the night sky. The remembrance of it kept me going for so long when I was underground. Salt, stars and Tobias. It was all I wanted. My eyes find nothing above me, the pollution from the city's lights blocking everything else out.

I wonder what I'm doing here, why I didn't just stay in four and let my head slip beneath the waves.

I miss Tobias.

I'm glad that I have released him but I miss him hard.

I sit down in a forming circle, slow and careful. The roof moves beneath me, swaying in the wind. I don't want to look over te edge of the building, I know that the ground will be far away. I don't know if that's tempting or not.

We all have bottles. I wonder what they're for. I drink some more from mine just in case.

People that I've breathed with for a few days now stand around, laughing and talking. In a few days from now we won't be, we will be dirty and angry and killing each other. I wonder what I'll be like. I'm afraid of what I will be like. I know what I'm like when someone is hurting me and I have no power to do anything back. I know what it's like to imagine what I'd like to do back.

I don't know what I'm like when I actually get the chance to do it.

I wiggle my bare toes against the concrete roof and count them again. Eight. I'm not missing anymore today. Sometimes it's hard to remember where I'll be waking up, if it's in that cell underground, always damp and dark or not. I never wake up expecting to see my bed room. It exists outside of reality.

My bedroom is where I go when I dream.

I don't like the softness of the sheets in the room I sleep in now. The bed is too big and soft, the room to large and open. I know it's meant to represent luxury. It just seems too big to me.

Last night I rolled off the bed and slept beneath it, the soft sounds of the waves from the other beach washing my ears.

I couldn't dream.

Someone asks for an empty bottle. I raise mine, it has maybe a sip left. I drink it and it slides down my throat easy, there's no bad taste left over. I don't taste anything. I offer it but they tell me to start.

"Start?"

"Spin the bottle Mordecai."

Oh.

I think I was busy getting the shit beat out of me during the time when the game was popular with my age. I don't think I know how it's done. I raise my head and look around the circle hesitantly as I place the bottle on the ground in the center. No one yells at me or tells me to stop. They want me to spin it.

I do it, fingers twisting around the stem. It spins and spins and everyone is silent as it does, we hold our breath and watch. My eyes fall on a younger tribute across the circle and I hope it doesn't land on her because I'm pretty sure if it does I'm meant to kiss her. It spins by her though and slows for a moment, passing a boy, it lands directly across from me.

I stare at the still bottle, raising my eyes slowly to look at who I've landed on. It's a girl. She's got soft cheeks but hard eyes. Suddenly I realize just how ugly I am in comparison.

Jiz, my stylist pressed false teeth into my mouth as soon as he saw me, saying the gaps between my teeth from where they'd been pulled in torture were horrible to look at. I press my tongue against the one in front. I wonder if she's looking me over. My fingers are crooked, gnarled with scars across the back of them. There's no space on me that is free from scars. I don't hide them, a t-shirt the only thing to cover my top, the scars run down my arms on both sides. I am not ashamed of them.

At least I thought I wasn't until there was a pretty girl staring at me across the circle.

"You kiss her, Cai."

I don't know how.

I do move though, carefully. I step around the bottle and kneel down in front of her, the girl I'm meant to kiss because an all-knowing bottle has decided it be so. I want to touch her hair. It looks soft, inviting somehow. I vaguely recall seeing a picture of her handed to me. Someone saying to watch out for her because her sister was probably the devil. She doesn't look it though, not right here with the lights above her head, creating a halo on her hair.

My cheeks are warm. I don't know if that's from the drink or the cold or if it's because my hand is reaching out to cup the back of her neck. Maybe it's all three.

I tug her forward gently and place my other hand on her cheek, light and gentle. I don't want to scare her. I never want to be a boy who takes.

I pull her face close, eyes falling to her lips. I don't kiss her though.

I wait for her to kiss me.

{  D I S T R I C T F O U R   }

 

Python

[Python]

H Y A C I N T H M O R T U U S ;

Hyacinth didn’t know how to handle her newfound freedom. No chores, no responsibilities, no shadows lingering around every corner. The only voices left to torment her were her stylist and conscience. Bellezze enjoyed nitpicking; ”Cover those scars, dear.” She cared about beauty and sponsors, and she supposed that was reasonable. The voice in her own head reminded her that she could never be stripped clean of responsibility. She still owed her family everything. What would they do while she was away? Twelve was riddled with hungry Peacekeepers, and she was one of the only ones capable of holding them on a leash. Would they chance it and wait for her potential return, or would they prey upon her family?

I can’t afford to die.

For this reason, she knew she had to listen to her stylist and escort. They were her guides, as foolish as they acted. When they pestered her to wake up and start training, she did. When they told her what dresses would flatter her the most, she listened. The problem arose when they demanded social interaction. ”You need allies!” they said, but she didn’t want her life in another’s hands. She had only relied on family and wits before this. How could she trust strangers?

She realized it later that morning, I don’t have to trust them. So when she heard a rumor of “spin the bottle” happening on the roof, she decided to investigate. Her adolescent years had been stolen from her by selfish men and grimy hands. She had fucked someone twice her age before she could plant a chaste kiss upon a boy’s cheek. Now was her chance to live in a fantasy moment. Why not make up for lost time? As much as she wanted to stay determined in the fight, she knew her chances of survival were slim. It was best not to deny the opportunity.

She said nothing as they formed a circle. A boy was spinning the bottle before she could blink. Mordecai, she heard. Her stylists had a mouthful to spew about him. ”Ugly,” they said, and she hadn’t understood why. He had a handsome face, a calm demeanor. But a close up glimpse of mangled skin had left them shell-shocked and disgusted. Hyacinth could see their spoiled, sour faces twisting into something unsympathetic. They didn’t live in a world of imperfections and pain. They had an aesthetic to follow. Hyacinth didn’t care for it; she had seen uglier men without scars.

The bottle was a dizzying sight. It halted agonizingly slow, although the anticipation was lost on her. A salt kiss from the District Four boy, it seemed. She wondered if his lips would taste like the ocean, but dismissed it as a myth. She knew what men tasted like.

She didn’t flinch as he approached. A brief peck on the lips was what she expected. That was the innocence of the game, right? Teenagers too shy to put their souls into it. A gentle hand touched the back of her neck and she waited.

He pulled her close – close enough for their breaths to mingle, but no closer than that. It was not so typical for a boy to hesitate, but what did she know about boys? She knew only ruiners. Mordecai was either taking his sweet time, or waiting for some type of permission. The bottle itself was an implied invitation. However, she appreciated the sentiment.

So, she kissed him.

And she found nothing ugly about him.

[kap]

RACHEL VIOLETTE | 74th HUNGER GAMES | DISTRICT TWO FEMALE

The Capitol was somewhere that Rachel had always wanted to visit. She had heard of the beautiful architecture and the wonderful food; it sounded almost like Heaven, aside from the fact that if someone from the Districts was visiting there, it generally meant that they would be in the Hell of the arena in the next few weeks. Of course, Rachel wasn't reaped; she had volunteered for the death match that is the Hunger Games. That would seem like a dumb mistake in the eyes of many. Or least, in particular, those that weren't in the Career Districts. Her main reason for volunteering was to satisfy her father's want to have one of his children fight in the Hunger Games, since he had never had the bravery to do some himself in his youth.

Of course, Rachel's time in the Capitol wouldn't last forever. She figure that she may as well make the best out of it while she was there, though. There had been a rumor floating around recently that there was a game of 'spin the bottle' to be taking place. That was something that Rachel had only ever seen a few times back home, and it was normally the mischievous, hormonal teenagers that took part. Personally, the girl had never found any interest in joining in on the game when she was back in the District. After all, she didn't want to get stuck kissing someone she didn't like. She also didn't want any rumors starting up because of who she may have to kiss. This time, however, was different. Twenty-three of the tributes would be dead by the end of the Games, meaning that there wouldn't be a very likely chance that someone participating in this particular game would spill the secret of what happened. Then again, she didn't think, at this point, so close to an almost improbable death, that it would really matter what she did.

The game as to take place on the roof, according to the note the girl from Two had received. Deciding to take part, she made her way there, actually rather interested to see how it would go. The participating tributes were gathered in a circle, almost like children getting ready to play a game of 'duck duck goose'. This game, however, was much different. There was a bottle in the center of the circle, and Rachel was sitting in one of the spots that made up that particular shape. The game started with one of the boys that she recognized as Mordecai from District Four, spun the bottle in the center. She watched the bottle spin, and spin and spin. Eventually, it landed on a rather pretty girl. The girl, as far as Rachel could remember, was from District Twelve, but Rachel couldn't quite think of her name.

When the bottle landed on the girl from Twelve, Mordecai had pulled himself close to her, and she kissed him. Rachel smiled, thinking this was beginning to get interesting. She wondered where it could possibly end up going next. She wondered who it would be that she had to kiss. Eyeing those in the circle, she realized that her first choice would likely be the one alliance member of hers that was participating, which was Joselle Brookwater of District Four. Perhaps that was because she knew the girl, or perhaps it was because Rachel found her rather attractive. Regardless of what it was, however, it was unlikely that when it came to be Rachel's turn, that they would end up being paired together.

It was Rachel's turn next, and she spun the bottle, watching it twirl around, anxious to see who it would land on. She was worried that it would be someone that she wasn't too fond of. Although, with the Hunger Games looming so close, it seemed like such a small worry. When the bottle's spinning ceased, she noticed who it had decided to point to. It was Bolts Spark, the boy from District Three.

Rachel had spoken to the boy in the training center, and had gathered that he was rather nice. Regardless, that didn't mean she wanted to kiss him. In all honesty, she didn't want to kiss any guys. Her preference certainly would have been one of the female tributes. She approached him anyway, though, in the spirit of the fun the game was meant to be. Looking at Bolts for a second before she did anything, she felt rather uncomfortable at first.

Then, Rachel leaned in quickly and planted a kiss on his lips. She felt weird, having never kissed a boy before. She'd only ever kissed girls, and she knew right then that that was definitely what she still preferred. Feeling rather awkward after the kiss, she backed away from Bolts.

"Sorry." she said to him. She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, though. "That was kind of... weird for me." Rachel was stammering as she spoke, not quite sure what to do with her words after the somewhat strange experience of kissing Bolts.

834 words
Chevi

¤

[Chevi]

BOLTS SPARK

DISTRICT THREE

When Bolts was invited to the roof, his first thought was that it was going to be some kind of a secret meeting, maybe some planning time between allies, or otherwise a truce in the making with another alliance. He was not even sure yet whom he could trust, and whether the person that had slipped the note under the door was friendly, or planning on luring him away to beat him up away from the cameras. Both options made him equally uncomfortable.

He only realized what this really was about when he saw the bottle spinning on the floor.

The thought of playing a kissing game almost made him laugh. Here he was, with a bunch of people who would be gunning for him in a few short days, swapping kisses as if they were teenagers hanging out at a party... But as he watched Mordecai kiss the blonde girl with visible gentleness, Bolts' smile softened too. In a way - in a weird, surreal way - it all made sense now. From his interactions with other tributes, he had yet to meet any one of them who was here for the thrill of killing. In a way, this was their way of being human, before all that was human would be left behind. 
This was everyone saying "sorry" before the bloodshed started.

The bottle Rachel had spun landed on him, and Bolts grinned at her. He had no illusions about the Two girl's affections for him (or lack thereof), but she was also not a terrible person, and Bolts approved of kissing in general, even if just between friends. Rachel planted a quick and somewhat awkward peck on his lips, and Bolts chuckled as she made a face.

>> "Sorry. That was kind of... weird for me."

"No hard feelings" the redhead shrugged, sitting back down with a smirk as he glanced between Rachel and the girl she had been eyeing this whole time "Better luck next time."

If there was a next time for any of them.

BY CHELSEY

[✨ zozo.]

S A M I R A  H A R T

 

Shit, I think I'm late.

A whisper (more like a loud bark in my ear, I can't tell the difference anymore): "Rooftop, 7pm, Spin The Bottle." I think I managed to force out a rather abrupt "Again?!" because I feel as though I've met half of these kids on my inconveniently busy would-be sanctuary. Sunrise and sunset they follow me, I follow them, and in a place I planned to seclude myself  I let them into my world.

Two flights of stairs, legs aching already, a stitch in my side. I stumble through the doors to the roof with a headache, a smile and a bottle of tequila. (It's been 2 days since they let me swipe some more. They've stopped giving me raised eyebrows - some of them look at me with pity, others like I'm nothing new. They all irk me. I think I'm embarrassed.) Spin the bottle, it's a gamble - my specialty. Gambling, and kissing all the dead boys with no names down the line that is my past.

My voice is too loud but I don't care.

"Am I late?!"

Huddled in a circle, all their eyes turn to me and I crave the quiet of my bedroom walls. No-one says a word. At least the wallpaper on Floor 5 doesn't glare.

Shit, I think I'm really late.

A quiet "Whatever..." mutters through my lips, slinking through the loiterers to join the circle of blushing cheeks and awkward glances to settle in between two strangers I vaguely recognise. At least I brought my own bottle. Is the sky tipping, or is that just me? I hope I didn't say that out loud. No-one is staring. That's a good sign.

Shit, I think I'm drunk.

The glass in my hands is still cool to the touch and I place it in front of me, twist of my hands and off it goes. Around and around like my train of thought, I brush past a memory of home and flinch - they'd be ashamed of me, my sisters, if they saw me like this. 

Green blur against grey tiles, it slows and time with it. I wish I could age, grow old within seconds, wither and turn to dust and float off of this rooftop into the sky and catch against light and the evening breeze and fly back home to touch their faces and kiss their heads and brush the hair out of their eyes.

I wonder if I kissed them goodbye.

I can't rememb-

Shit. I think they're staring again.

Thoughts collide to a halt and I with them, the bottle dead-still in the middle of us with it's neck pointing at a kid from... 3... no... 8?

Boy from Eight.

Hello handsome.

"Hi," I gush stupidly, introductions suddenly important to me. "I'm Sam."

And then I grab his face and press myself to him, liquor lips and no regrets, because dead boys taste like home and I'd like to go back one last time.

T R A I N I N G • C E N T E R

d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

jenoah.

I don’t think I have even seen a face of worry in the short moments of being in the Capitol.

It’s expected of the stylists and escorts to not know the pain that lingers inside a tribute so a face of worry is not required from them but in this circle of adolescence right now, all I see is life. Young people, living in their prime, having fun which is greatly ordinary for such ages. My father allowed me to dip one toe into the life of a teenager but great expectations pulled me from ever venturing far into it, I was forced to become an adult, an adult like him.

I don’t think the men of the business would appreciate a game of spin the bottle, I’d rather not kiss them on the lips…I don’t know where they’ve been.

"Rooftop, 7pm, Spin The Bottle." A rather vague invitation dragged me to this gathering. I haven’t a clue of the concept of spin the bottle until I asked as soon as I arrived. With me skipping the stage of young adulthood, the only games I have played involving alcohol are those of a gambling nature and well, I don’t see any money involved in this one.

How the invite reached me, I do not know. Since arriving in the Capitol, according to my escort, I have been tagged as ’the loner.’ How that came about, I haven’t a clue. I don’t think there has ever been a time in my life when I have been truly alone. Even after my mother’s death, someone was always there to share the grief. But here I am on death’s row; I’ll be spending my last moments with no one else. If I got the choice to die at home than be here, I’d have taken it without a doubt. I may get to know all these faces but they will forever be strangers to me, they can’t replace my family.

A bottle of rum occupies me tonight, I haven’t decided whether I should finish it but the bottle on the ground seems to already be spinning for me, even though nobody has actually touched it yet. There’s no point being careful now, tonight will be the only chance I’ll get to let loose.

Chugging back a few mouthfuls of the rum, I cradle the bottle, protecting it from any prying hands.

This is mine!

Two randomly chosen couples are appointed and two awkward kisses follow. I don’t know who out of the mix I prefer to have but it won’t matter, I doubt I’ll be high on anyone’s list to kiss.

I have kissed girls before that aren’t my mother and sister. Romance is one thing that my father stole from me, ”There is no time for relationships right now.” He always said that, yet he expected me to create heirs too. The man really contradicted himself.

I’ve been that lost in thought that I don’t notice the bottle has landed on me until the girl from Five introduces herself. ”I’m Jenoah,hi.” A smile marches across my lips before I ready them for her touch.

It’s just one meaningless kiss.

But it’ll likely be the last I’ll ever have. Let’s make it worthwhile.

As soon as Sam grabs my face, I go in for the kiss, her tequila flavoured lips connect to mine and I hold it there for as long as I can. All those moments stolen from me by my father, suddenly reunited in this one moment.

[charade]

Maye

When she’d found the invitation under the door of the district six quarters, she’d almost jumped for joy. Something fun. Familiar to the parties she’d been to.  She hadn't expected everyone to show up, although that would have been nice. There was  maybe a little over half of the tributes on the roof.   A majority of them seemed put out, shifting uncomfortably, not willing to look at each other, some of them smelling faintly of alcohol and tears.

“Well, fuck. I thought this was supposed to be a party, not a wake.” She said under her breath, yet in a loud enough stage whisper that it was likely several people had heard her. A few people spun and Maye felt the boredom and depression mounting like a lovesick dog paying too much attention to her leg. The quiet kid from four stopped short of kissing Byacinth and waited for her to kiss him, which in of itself was a disappointing kiss to anyone watching, she was sure of it. The next girl was even worse, even flat-out saying that it was “weird” for her, something that the boy from three shrugged off.

Gawd, this is painful, what are we, twelve? Well, that little girl from three might be so I’d expect that from her, but fuck this is sad. Then the next pair went, one the late arrivals, who was clearly drunk finding her way to the boy from eight. And that was a good kiss.

“Finally some action,” Maye whooped, pointing at Sad Mirror and Jeno Ravioli. “Take notes from those two, kiddies, I’ve seen livelier coma patients then the ones that went before them. Seriously. We’re all going to be dead in a couple days, live a fuckin little. Have some passion. Kiss someone like you mean it.” She spun the bottle expertly, watching it go around and around until it came to a stop in front of the walking bicep from district two. As far as spin the bottle partners went, he was pretty good-looking, square jaw, piercing eyes, looking like he’d dropped out of the womb lifting weights.

“I’ve heard that boys from two are hard as rock, but they’ve never elaborated on how, exactly,” she cackled cheekily. Maye crawled over to him on her hands and knees, which was rather easy to do, since they were all seated in a circle on the ground, and upon getting next to him, rested the side of her face on her palm, debating how to go about this. After a moment’s thought, she grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging his face to hers and grinned lustfully before her lips found his and she parted them with her tongue, finding his and letting hers dance along it, nipping softly down with her teeth and drawing them across his tastebuds until their mouths parted with a little click and a pop. 

Maye fanned herself a little and then sat back, glancing at a couple of the other boys. “If any of you want to go again, come find me after.” She said salaciously, blowing a kiss in the direction of the curly-haired cutie from three.

[Noah Vau - D2 (Cato)]

[googlefont="Indie Flower:400"]

Torka Hammerfell

I've been to a few parties in my life, but none like this. My eyes turn from person to person as we're gathered around. A bottle is spinning, and people are kissing. What kind of game is this? These people are the enemy. And I want nothing to do with them, but when the time came, I decided to attend. Some are drinking, and I decide not to partake in it because I want to remain myself. The girl from district six is watching closely and cheering good times and booing bad times. I guess it makes sense though. The male from four, and the girl from twelve go first. He's a gentleman meaning I need to stay away from him. Twelve is the sister to the one crazy girl a couple games ago. But I don't know what to think of her. It's followed by an awkward kiss of a girl staring its weird, and I'll never understand why. It's just a kiss, but I can't judge because I've never been kissed either. Then the bottle spins again and the next pair goes. That's when the girl from six spins, and it stops right in front of me. She's crawling over towards me, and I want to run away, but I don't want to appear as a coward. She stares at me for a moment, and I'm wondering if we're going to do this. Then she's pulling me down, and her lips touch mine. It feels strange. Butterflies dance inside my stomach, and I feel her tongue on mine.After a moment it's done, and I can't help the smile spreading across my face. That wasn't so bad after all. I wouldn't mind another.