my brother's type [thad/bellamy]

[kap]

"Stand up
or die on your knees."
-----

My brother Larry has always just seemed... different. For the longer time, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. On the bus on the way to the reaping, though, I think I finally figured out what was so different about him compared to me. He liked men, and not just as friends.

He liked them. He liked men like I liked women. I don't have a problem with it- no, not at all. I just feel bad that it took me so long to figure it out, and that he wasn't comfortable enough to just tell me before I discovered it on my own.

Another thing I realized- he had a type, for sure. When he wasn't staring at the buff athletes, the guys I caught him staring at all had the same sort-of vibe to them. It was the tall guys. Sometimes it was the skinny sort-of guys. Typically both in one. There were even times that I caught him staring at the kids that I probably would have bullied in school. The nerds. The dorks. I wasn't the nicest kid back then, to be totally honest. Then I realized what a nerd I was, at least when it came to studying the Hunger Games.

As I was wandering the training center, I happened to notice something- a guy Larry would've liked. Probably.

The kid was from Three. He had curly brown hair and some height to him. Kinda lanky. Overall typical Larry-staring material. I'm not sure why, but I approached him.

"Hey, you know what you look like?" I said to him. I didn't give him the chance to respond. "You look like the kinda guy my brother Larry would go for. Tall. Dorky. Ya know?"

I'm not really sure what prompted me to approach a total stranger and say that, but after the words came out of my mouth, I was sure it would go one of a few ways: the guy would take it a a compliment, he would take it as an insult, or he would simply brush it off.

I was hoping for the first one or the last one.

"Err- sorry." I said kinda quietly. "That was a little out of nowhere. I don't know what I was thinking..."

-----

lyrics: "One of Us" by Fever 333

[Tom]

A sun doesn't rise without a moon to set.

The Capitol isn't quite what Bellamy Scott expects. White walls and granite floors surrounding him with a cleanliness that makes him feel sick to his stomach. Every step he takes leaves behind a hundred clues to where he is as if he were a criminal in a rich home planning a robbery. Scuffed shoe marks and the squeakiness of the tennis shoes the capitol provided them for their training uniform; Three plastered to his shoulder like a badge of honor. Fingertips brushing over the patch until he can read every stitch in the number with a certain ease. He's out of his element here. The room's louder than most and his focus feels strained in comparison to the train and district floor he'd been in before. Observation was his strength, but in a field full of pointed items and determined eyes, he didn't know how to stand among them.

Tributes. Sacrifices to some; Honorifics to others. Sensibilities were lost in this crowd and it's why he's pulled himself to the side to avoid eye contact. Notepad in his back pocket where it belonged, itching at his fingers to reach for, but he couldn't give away anything. Bellamy Scott couldn't give away any details about his own thoughts. Memories of hiding away in the shadows while Lucas shone like a sun on the heavy rooftop skies. A soft feeling of warmth that'd bubble over him until Bellamy felt his heart wanting to burst. The smell of gunpowder and blood gone from his senses as the warmth of a boy who'd never love him blankets him with a heat that never soothes him.

"Hey, you know what you look like?" The voice should make him jump ten feet in the air, but his eyes glance towards the guy first. Taking in the Ten on the guy's shoulder, knowing the stitching matched his own, should give away more than he needed to know about the guy. Tens were always wild cards, especially with victors like Ansgar Todd, Mace Emberstatt, and Saffron Lowe, who knew what District Tens had up their sleeves. "You look like the kinda guy my brother Larry would go for. Tall. Dorky. Ya know?"

The surprise boils down in his chest, eyebrows raised in question at Ten. Tall and dorky like the kids at the orphanage used to call him. A shrug of his shoulders as he stares confused at Ten for speaking about something personal upon first greeting. Was this some sort of ploy? Did Ten want to find out if he was interested? A once over of Ten tells him nothing at all as sexuality is fluid and really no one could tell any difference, despite what assholes want to say. "Err- sorry." A shrug of his shoulders as he tries to read the quiet voice of Ten. "That was a little out of nowhere. I don't know what I was thinking..."

Neither did he, but Bellamy didn't mind. He's never had eyes for anyone else, but Lucas always would say a few girls or boys have eyes for him all the time. Laughter upon his lips, heavy smoke from the forced feeling of swallowing rose petals every time it happens. Instead of reacting to Ten's words, he shrugs them off and shakes his head with a small laugh.

"I know what you mean."

Ten's interaction could come in handy later, he'll have to write down this later.

"I get that a lot." A pause to reevaluate himself before deciding a greeting would be needed. "No problems here, Pal. Name's Bellamy. What's yours?"

[kap]

"Stand up
or die on your knees."
-----

Yet again, I'd encountered a surprisingly kind tribute. I didn't know what was up, but aside from Evan, no one really seemed like they wanted to torment me so far. Or kill me, I suppose. That's another concern, given what we were here for.

The guy from Three says that he knew what I meant, and that he gets that a lot, in reference to the comment that I'd made about his appearance and being my brother's type. After a moment, I realized something. This guy may think I was trying to flirt with him. Indirectly, of course. I'd heard people say that they were asking something for a friend, or saying that their sibling had a certain opinion when they really meant something else.

I suppose that's what he could have thought I was doing, but I genuinely wasn't. As far as I knew, I was straight, but you can never really tell by looking at a person, if I'm being honest. I suppose I could be something else. I've always been a little curious. Although, I figured that now was not the time to find out.

He introduced himself as Bellamy, and said there were no problems with what I had said, which was honestly a relief. I was afraid he'd try to kick my ass for it, honestly. Then again, we're not allowed to really fight each other in the training center. Perhaps that's why he was being nice to me. He'd probably try to stab me later.

Bellamy asked for my name.

"I'm Thad," I told him. "It's like 'sad', but with a 'th' instead. Except, I'm not sad. I hope that makes sense." I laughed a bit.

"So, I have a question," I continued after a moment or so of silence. "Do you know where I can find some booze? I haven't been able to find any since getting here, and I have a feeling they just don't offer it to the tributes."

It was something I'd been itching for since I'd arrived. I just wanted a beer, or a glass of wine. Something. Even a shot of vodka would do. I'll admit, I probably drink a bit too much. I'm probably an alcoholic, technically. It sucks to go without for a while.

I always though Harmon being high all the time was a problem, but didn't think about how much I would drink in the evening after working on the farm.

-----

lyrics: "One of Us" by Fever 333

[Tom]

"I'm Thad,"

A simple name. "It's like 'sad', but with a 'th' instead. Except, I'm not sad. I hope that makes sense." A simple name for a strange guy from Ten. Bellamy isn't one to judge, but Thad, who was not sad lets out a laugh and Bellamy just has to follow along with a laugh of his own. It's strange to meet someone who seemed much more open to talking when in a handful of days they'll be trying to kill one another, but hey, he can't judge anyone. Maybe the guy wanted an alliance with him, but Bellamy wasn't sure. The games seemed to be on everyone else's mind, but all he could think about were the staff and keepers shifting around the room.

"So, I have a question," Thad, who was not sad, shakes him from his own head as he looks to the guy. Many people had questions for him in Three. Bellamy Scott was smart, but not in the way that Three celebrates. No, Bellamy was a stickler for the details and pointing out pieces of a puzzle that never quite make sense. People asked him questions, but he never had the reply they were looking for. Except, Thad, who was not sad, had asked a question he did have the answer for. At least, he had the answer for it this time. "Do you know where I can find some booze? I haven't been able to find any since getting here, and I have a feeling they just don't offer it to the tributes."

Booze was a simple comfort for most. Bellamy didn't like the way it made him feel out of control. A secret always on his tongue waiting to unfurl around Lucas back home, so he never drank much. Every time, he felt stressed around booze and decided to just stay away from it. Though, Bellamy Scott wouldn't be a great detective if he didn't keep an eye on every floor that he could. The bar that was on the way up to the garden floor had taken his eye and seeing the keepers and staff leave and go from most places, he had a pretty logical guess on where and when to go to get some.

A nod is all he needed before smiles. "Yeah, I think we're not allowed booze." Shifting his eyes around the room, knowing no one was listening to them and that the training center was too loud right now anyways. "You could probably get some booze at the bar I saw before the floor to the gardens. I think around the time before dinner or after lunch would be the best time to sneak in and get a bottle. Most of the guards have their lunch after us and their dinner before us. So it should hypothetically be unguarded." Looking at the clock on the wall, he'd give it about a few minutes before the guards were gone from the bar.

"Just an estimated guess though. I haven't had enough time to log every guard or staffs' schedule."