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Dirt covered bare feet moved forward on the middle of the road and his eyes were open, glassy, but not focused on anything ahead of him. From a first look, some might think he was perhaps a crazed person, taking a luxurious walk in the middle of the night, though Stiles was well asleep and unaware of his own actions. But at least the night was still and there weren’t many cars that had passed him by, if someone did pass him, they would swerve to the other side of the road to avoid hitting him before returning to the their original lane. Despite that fact, it was still far from safe for the teen.

#;define queueing #adrianharrisx #v; weight of living #he could probs be driving and spot stiles i mean that's the easiest thing

The list of people given to him had been an easy group of chemists, scientists, data analysts—you name it—who had, in some way, disrupted the system, turned against the company itself and or actively attempted to bring the association to end. They were more often than not untrained in physical combat which didn’t leave much of anything but a quick kill for the pale teenager, but this one—Joseph—had given him a difficult time to the point of which he was chasing the other male around his home, breaking various objects and becoming winded from the very few opportunities the scientist had to actually hit him. And when the scientist did have his chance, he did not waste it. Surely there would be bruises in the morning alongside the fresh flesh wounds on his torso and lower leg.

One thing led to another and somewhere in the midst of their combat, a fire had begun to spread due to Joseph having damaged a fuse unintentionally after hitting it, but with their attention completely on each other—Stiles attempting to kill him, Joseph attempting to evade death—and how the scientist had the tendency to run from room to room in hopes of escaping instead of properly ending their altercation, neither one of them really noticed until the smoke had begun to file out into the halls, flames beginning to devour the house. Though Stiles wasn’t to leave until he finished what he had come to do—he couldn’t. It was necessary to make sure that he was able to cross off the name on his list with definite knowledge as to the target being deceased.

Arm wrapped around the other’s neck from behind and temperature in the room high due to flames engulfing the area surrounding him, Stiles tightened his hold, eyes closing momentarily as he put in a great amount of his strength, waiting to feel the male’s struggling come to an end. And it was when lifeless limbs relaxed beneath him that the teen’s eyes opened once more knowing that another name would be crossed off tonight. It was funny to think that not even a few weeks ago the he would have possibly been sent into a state of panic from having so much of someone’s else’s blood covering him or from killing another person, though in that instant he was.. calm. He wasn’t quite emotionless despite that being what the association had attempted to achieve. They were close, but not close enough. There were emotions somewhere in the murderer they had created, though they were just far too difficult to reach.

Another cough wracked his body, though much worse than the first seeing as how much smoke had really gotten into his lungs and sweat had beaded his skin from the intensity of the heat. Sepia hues moved around the room for a quick exit—though it wasn’t at all in a frantic manner as it might have been before being given the drug that had taken the light out of the young male.

He covered his mouth with his arm as he backed away from the body, making his way towards the door, though with burning and drying eyes, his sight was blurry, making it more difficult to navigate through the house. Crimson stained hands pressed against the wall as Stiles stopped himself before he had the chance to run into the structure while a string of coughs escaped him. After finally making it through the front doors and onto the lawn, he had collapsed to his knees, hands supporting him on the ground, coughing painfully-- almost to the point of where he was heaving.

Stiles moved so that he was lying on his back in the grass whilst trying to fill his lungs with mildly cleaner air in an attempt to recharge himself to the point of being able to flee the scene. His eyes focused on the sky, vision still blurry—though he had no idea when everything had become so dark.

By the time he had come to, he had lifted his head, coughing quietly once more as his eyes fluttered open, though brown hues had yet to adjust to the lighting of the room itself which prompted him to squint and he wanted to rub his eyes, though his ability to do so was hindered by the duct tape wrapped around him and the chair he was sitting in. He took a quick glance at the room again to see if anyone was there and despite how his vision had yet to fully focus, his surroundings were vaguely familiar, but he didn't dwell on that thought. Instead he tugged at the duct tape weakly. While emotions were a thing of the past, the house fired had taken more than enough energy out of him. Though he was still fixated on getting out of the duct tape and leaving to return to the facility as he was originally supposed to do.

#( you don't have to write this much omG i'm so sorry )#v; it's okay #adrianharrisx #( p sure i should've waited until morning to post this )

There were so many people in one large room that was turning out to feel a lot smaller in Stiles’ head—almost to a suffocating degree. He was supposed to be focused on the interview and ‘winning over the hearts of the capital’ and he wasn’t sure how well it was working from earlier words of sarcasm, but all that his mind could focus on were his trembling hands and the anxiety that plagued his veins. There were too many people and their eyes were all on him which only had sepia hues focused on the hands that were folded on his lap. If his eyes accidentally moved to the crowd in front of him, there was no guaranteeing what more could occur aside from his already shaking hands.

“I’m sorry—what?”

He didn’t quite catch the question which for some reason prompted the audience to laugh softly which, in turn, prompted Stiles’ leg to bounce up and down. Caesar made some sort of joke before quieting the crowd once more and leaning forward in his chair, elbow on his knee, eyes on Stiles.

❝ do you have anyone special waiting for you at home? ❞

Without realizing it himself, his head turned towards the side of the stage, sorrowed brown hues meeting with green ones just before the edge of his lips curved slightly, offering a small and weary reassuring smile towards the tribute standing there. It was the least he could do in a situation such as this one.

Not only was he put in the games which was in itself a nightmare, but the person he cared so deeply for was in there as well and there were only a couple of ways this could all play out—none of which had a pleasant ending, but then again, the games were never meant to be pleasant, they were merely to keep the districts and the people within them in line, weren’t they? Meant to scare them and keep them under the President’s control? But the thing he was currently fearing most aside from how his dad was faring at home, his own death and stepping into the arena was the idea of looking up at the projection in the middle of the night only to see Adrian’s face alongside other fallen victors.

And there was only supposed to be one victor, but if it came to the end where the both of them were still standing somehow, he couldn’t really see himself walking out alone.. which unfortunately meant that he wouldn’t be walking out at all.

“not at home.”

He finally answered, shaking his head a little—thoughts captured by something or rather someone else that was he could really manage to say. Moments after speaking his gaze returned to the talk show host, the Caesar’s eyes holding a childlike giddiness, lips curved Into a bright smile after having seen Stile’s gaze focus on someone in the wings.

❝ then where? ❞

“where what?”

❝ where’s this special person? ❞

“wai—“

❝ standing back there, aren’t they? You were looking at someone, I could see it— I believe we a l l could. ❞ His words were spoken so dramatically with grand gestures to match. ❝ don’t hold out on us, please Stiles, we’re merely interested. ❞ A pause. ❝ What do you say to having them come on stage? Just for a moment. ❞

Followed by Caesar’s words were cheers from the crowd to which Stiles’ lips parted as if he wanted to say something to that idea a.k.a, tell Caesar to give it a rest, but how could anyone ever hear him over such a loud crowd, cheering for for the person off stage to show their face? His head turned was more to take a look in the wings, eyes hopefully conveying to Adrian that it was his choice.

#( w o a h guess who woke up from her coma like sleep to write a starter #see i do things. sometimes )#adrianharrisx #v; the odds are against us #( sorry this turned out v long it was an accident )#( also sorry this is so bad like maybe i should've stayed in that coma like sleep by e )

The teen lay on the cold ground, head resting on his arm and, like most nights now, he was having a hard time falling asleep. Yeah, no, sleeping on a hard floor without his pillow whilst being under the eyes of brute men and locked away in a room with a ridiculously cold draft and a high chance of another torture session in store didn’t make for a good rest, even if he was exhausted. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on the other male for a moment.

“Adrian.. you still up?”

The words were mumbled softly so not to actually wake him if he somehow managed to fall asleep..

#i made you a smaller thing bc my head refuses to get in the game #v; it was supposed to be a boring day #adrianharrisx

“So what if we’re handcuffed together, and we —I lost the key and my dad won’t answer his phone, it’s no big woop.” It’s actually a pretty big woop— He can’t even believe he said that. “After all of this is over, we’re gonna look back and laugh, alright? Look, I’m laughing now,” Stiles told them, forcing himself to chuckle. Said chuckle died down to a nervous laugh before ceasing completely just a few seconds later. “I’ll, uh—I’ll shut up.”

#opentwrp #adrianharrisx #i'm tagging you but you totally don't have to answer ok #i just thought of you when i wrote this but no pressure c:#v; weight of living