Syd Scoria, District Twelve
Sept 28, 2020 19:55:06 GMT -5
Post by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy] on Sept 28, 2020 19:55:06 GMT -5
Boys workin' on empty
Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat?
Eighteen
District Twelve
Syd Scoria’s been working the mines.
He dropped out of school at the beginning of the year, right after he turned eighteen on his late summer birthday. His mom and dad tried desperately to talk him out of it -- said the mines are no place for a young woman.
If only they knew.
See, Syd’s been meaning to tell them. He has. He loves his mom and dad and little brother Slate like they’re extensions of his own body. They won’t be separated without a lot of pain and hardship, but isn’t that what the truth is?
Especially when they won’t understand it.
Pride, that’s where Syd gets caught up. Like, why does he have to explain himself to anyone? Why does he have to tell people who he is? Can’t he just be, and the world can go on being just as dark and miserable as it always is?
You’d think. Ha.
To be fair, he doesn’t exactly hide it. The same week he turned eighteen, he cut his dark hair short, buzzed it almost clean off. His mom had a fit, but he made up some lie about needing it short for the mine work. Something something safety.... She probably doesn’t buy it. In Syd’s house, secrets float around like motes of coal dust in the wind. You can see that they're drifting around, but only barely.
And in District Twelve, there’s a lot of coal dust.
Syd tries to tell himself he’s not too bothered by what his family thinks. He does what he does because he cares. He works in the mines because he doesn’t want his family -- poor as anyone else in District Twelve -- to go hungry. He cuts his hair short because he cares enough about himself to give his truth a chance to see the light. He dotes on his little brother because he wants the little guy to grow up with a life that’s kind, even when there’s rough patches like not having enough food on the table.
So every morning Syd wakes up, binds his chest enough so he can still breathe okay, puts on plain clothes for work, and sets out for the drudgery. Some of the men in the mines give him shit because they think he’s a girl, and he’s not about to go out correcting someone and getting into a fight. But he’s tall and quick and smart enough to get the job done, so at least he’s got that. He’s not exactly strong, still gaining muscle, but he tries. Sometimes his mom sneaks extra portions of food on his plate when they have it.
He loves her for it.
Still, he’d like to fight those assholes sometimes (both the mineworkers and his parents). He won’t, because there’s only one so many things to do for work in District Twelve, and he doesn’t want to be out of a job. He also doesn’t want to be out of a family. But his pride puts him in some sticky situations sometimes, and sooner or later he swears he’ll probably snap.
More than anything in the world, Syd Scoria wants to prove himself able to keep up with those who want to push him down. He comes from something small, but he wants to be respected. How else will he survive this drudgery forever?
He thinks maybe -- just maybe -- if he’s lucky, all his hard work will help him build a family of his own. Maybe have a partner, a couple kids. The world is cruel, but you gotta cling to the things that make it worth living in. Like his little brother, for instance. The kid is absolutely precious, only six years old, but he’s got the world figured out. In his eyes, the world’s got a golden sheen, and when Syd’s around him, he thinks he can see it too. The world’s dark, but there’s glimmers of something out there. Maybe Syd can find it.
But he’s queer, of course, so what the fuck does family even mean? It could be anything. It could be a group of friends, some adopted orphans, some people off the streets who need the company. Syd wants to make people feel like they belong. Because, deep down, Syd wants to belong too.
And oh god, he’s so worried what will happen when he comes out.
What if he doesn’t belong anywhere?
That’s why he has to prove his worth.
He can do this. He can keep working, keep his head up, keep going.
One day he’ll see the light.