#v1ctimplagued

He's a man of mercurial mood. And she does not expect this level of forthrightness. Perhaps, she's not readied to hear their relationship laid out so matter-of-fact-like. But trauma bond indeed.

Of course, she's thought about the happenstance of it all. She hadn't expressed interest in him pre-games. Considered him as someone she'd only hook up with if she were desperate enough to. Maybe this is what desperate looks like. She wants to ache in the ways lovers make, not in the gut-wrenching, soul-splitting way that taking life does to a person.

And he's the only person she lets touch her. The only palm that doesn't send her into a howling creature that the Capitol thinks District is. When she bites his shoulder now it's done playfully. Not to draw blood.

　There is a careful steady cut of his gaze as Billy ponders what he is going to do next. It's an improvement - for him to actually stop and consider his actions rather than just bulldoze his way through everything and every situation like he normally does. He's being teased right? Something about that had never sat right with Billy. The feeling of someone pokin' fun at him and normally it would be met with a flying fist of rage 'cause it would be the first and last time someone would make that mistake with him.

"Are you brain-dead?" The words come out too harsh, too volatile. Gritted between teeth, blue eyes gleaming. "If you're a masochistic dim-wit then just say it." But he isn't moving to shove him or hit him which is an improvement as he sighs, eyes rolling in a flair of dramatics. "Fuck off, Kenny." // @v1ctimplagued continued!

"Mhm." Quiet. Shy. She'd been so exhausted from last night that as soon as she found a bed, she passed out. If she stayed conscious any second longer she would've insisted Billy take the bed and she, the chair.

Katydid looked up at the popcorn ceiling of the room, searching for reason in the chaos of the pattern. If she focused hard, the dabbed texture would start to swirl, and she'd surely be transported to another world inside her own mind. That would be the easy way out of this, to bend time somehow or cross-stitch fragments of memories so that she and Billy wouldn't have to have this conversation. But she had spent all her life running away—finally she found someone who stayed, a miracle, and she needed to preserve that somehow. Make the most of it. Even if it meant having to tell him the truth.

an   eyebrow   wanders   up   on   her   forehead   ,   ᵘᶰᶤᵐᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ   ᵃᶰᵈ   ᵒᵘᵗᵍʳᵒʷᶰ   the   phase   in   which   she   would   answer   a   man’s   asperity   with   resentment   or   .   .   .   fright   .   the   memories   were   vivid   still   ,   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴   𝙾𝙵   𝙰   𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳   (   whether   that   was   physical   ,   whether   that   was   psychological   )   –   the   wounds   too   fresh   even   after   years   had   passed   .   so   ,   fran   huffs   ʷᶤᵗʰ   ᵃ   ᵍᵉᶰᵗˡᵉ   ˢᵐᶤʳᵏ   growing   on   her   lips   that   stands   in   contrast   to   the   glare   in   her   eyes   .   ❝   𝙰𝚂𝙺   𝙼𝙴   𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙴𝙻𝚈   .   ❞   then   turns   her   head   away   to   find   the   glass   flask   filled   with   bewitched   toxin   that   he   was   looking   for   .   ❝   unless   you   don’t   really   want   my   help   .   .   .   then   i’m   sure   i   will   find   someone more   grateful   for   this   .   ❞   ᶜᵒᶰᵗᶤᶰᵘᵉᵈ   ᶠʳᵒᵐ   ʰᵉʳᵉ   @v1ctimplagued

Her childhood home belongs to her now, and she lives there alone, but it will never be the same. She'll always remember seeing not-herself and not-Billy attacking her parents and being utterly powerless to stop it. It's no wonder she can't sleep there, feeling haunted every second she's in the house. The first chance she gets, she's moving someplace else.

And as she'd confessed, if that somewhere is Billy's floor, it's still an upgrade. As much as she'd like to hide behind the comfort of playing it off as a joke, relief sweeps through her when Billy actually responds invitingly, and she can't deny she's seriously considering taking him up on it. She even breathes a laugh at his attempt to inject humor into it himself, easing some of the heaviness of the conversation. It wouldn't surprise her if Billy used such things as a protective wall the same way she does.

Her smile quickly fades on the heels of an admission of Billy's own — and she can easily empathize. Maybe he's right. Maybe it would help. Heather's next words are delivered with a kittenish, playful note, but she's completely serious in her proposal nonetheless. "In that case, how about I bring the drinks, you get the chips, and we have, like... a movie night or something 'til we pass out?"

If there was one thing about Meg, it was that she had a fiery spirit and could never back down from a challenge even when she knew it was a bad idea. The fact that Billy had told her that there was a door was enough to make her decide she wouldn't leave. If anyone would be leaving first, it'd be him. She'd chase him out of here just to prove a point.

Was it stupid? Yes. Did she care? No.

"Don't call me sweetheart," her hand came up to try and shove him out of her personal space. Taking a step back just wasn't an option in her mind even if it would be easier. She wasn't intimidated, just annoyed. The athlete would never understand just how he'd become popular in the first place. When had people let their standards drop so low?

" I hope that's because you're scared of what I can do to YOU and not some bitch boy whiny guilt shit. Because if you're gonna pull that 'it's for your own good shit I'm going to take a BAT to your HEAD until it's MUSH. "

❝ 𝕺𝖐𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖔 𝖜𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖕 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒. I 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅. Which is 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓 but whatever — we don't 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 to kneecap them to win. ❞ He leaned back in his chair , looking up at the ceiling as he heaved a 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉. ❝ I really 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 to though. Those 𝕬𝖗𝖐𝖍𝖆𝖒 𝕿𝖊𝖈𝖍 guys are such fucking 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒. ❞