This is my first one shot, so don't be hating. I wrote this on my phone very late at night do pardon ayd spelling or grammatical errors. Feel free to leave any comments. Just none that are too mean please.
It is the night before the games. It is very late. Probably a little past midnight. Cato sits on the couch. The television is on, but the volume is turned all the way down and he is not watching. I silently step closer. He does not see or hear me. I watch him. He just states at the ceiling. I turn around to go back to my room, but my foot hits the wall with a light thud.
"Clove?" Cato says. "Is that you?"
I turn back around and walk toward him.
"Yes," I say. I sit down next to him. He stiffens a bit. I wonder silently wonder why.
"Tomorrow we will be in the arena," he says.
"Yup," I reply softly. I want to say something sarcastic but I feel now is not the time.
Neither of us says anything for a long time. I just think about the games. Twenty four will go in, but only one will come out. I want that one person to be me. And if not me, then I want Cato to win. He probably will win. He's so strong and he has trained all his life for this. It's what he has waited eighteen years for. That is why he volunteered. Not to compete, but to win.
"Do you want to know the real reason?" Cato asks me.
"Real reason for what?" I ask confused.
He laughs lightly. "For me volunteering."
It is strange that he asks. Especially considering my previous thought. "You volunteered to go into the games to win, of course," I say casually.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see him shake his head slowly. He seems to be holding something back. And I do not know what.
"There was another reason," he says. He pauses before continuing. "And I'm still not sure if I made the right choice."
"And what was that reason that you are unsure about?" I ask jokingly.
He ignores my tone and stays serious. It is quite unlike him. "I'm afraid to tell you," he says. "I'm not sure how to say it."
I laugh now. "You're scared?" I ask. "You, big and bad Cato is scared to say something?"
He rolls his eyes. "And you are not making this any easier," he sighs.
I cross my arms. "Just spit it out," I say. "I'm tired. Just say what you need to say so I can go to bed."
He takes a deep breath. "It was for you," he says quietly. "I volunteered because you were gong into the games."
He has lost me. I am beyond confused. "What?" I ask. "What are you taking about?"
He just smacks the couch angrily. "Dammit, Clove!" he shouts. He stands up and walks a few steps befor turning around and facing me. But he doesn't look angry. I can't place the emotion that is no his face. I just stare at him utterly cunfused.
He quickly grabs my wrists and pulls me up to him. He looks into my eyes for a split second. Then he presses his lips against mine. I stand in shock for a few seconds. Then I kiss him back.
After a few moments, Cato pulls away. We just look at each other. I study his features. The tip of his nose, the curve of his chin, and the roundness of his lips.
"I volunteered because you were going into the games," Cato repeats. And this time I actually understand what he means. "I never stopped caring," he says.
This too, I understand. Let me explain. Once upon a time, Cato and I were best friends. Our families had always been good friends but we were inseparable. And last summer, Cato and I were hanging out. It was the night before the reaping and we were sitting on a cliff over looking our district. We were supposed to be here but the Peacekeepers didn't care. The moon was full and bright. Cato and I just talked and joked. We laughed about going into the games the next day. We joked about death. I asked Cato if he would care if I died. And he said it would destroy him. I said the same about him. That was when he kissed me. It was just a small peck on the lips, but a kiss no doubt. He blushed and quickly apologized but I didn't care. I had enjoyed it.
The next day at the reaping neither of us got called. But instead of talking to me, Cato avoided me. I never truly knew why. Until February of this year. I finally asked Cato why he never talked to me. An he'd said he moved on. That he didn't care. It had hurt me. So I avoided him as well.
"You said you didn't care," I say. "You said you moved on."
"Well, I didn't," he says softly. "My father told me to say that. He said you would just get in the way of my training. He said that if I were to go to the games and win, I could not have distractions. And that's what he saw you as. A distraction."
I purse my lips. "So you chose the games over me," I say. I try to keep calm but it is difficult. I have always had a problem with my emotions.
"My father made me," he says. He tries to caress my face but I turn away and look at the ground.
"I don't want to be like those two from 12," I say. "I don't want people to call us the star crossed lovers from district 2. I do not want people to know about us."
Cato nods and begins to walk away. "Okay," he says sadly.
I grab his arm and stop him. "I said I didn't want people to know about us. Not that I didn't want it."
Cato shakes me off. "It doesn't matter anyway. In the games, only one can come out. So let's not even try," he says.
He walk away. But before he gets too far, I say, "Just once more? Before we are watched every moment?"
Cato stops walking and turns around. He moves to me. He takes one my of my hands in his. he holds it tight. He puts his other hand around my waist and holds me closer.
"Once more," he says. Then he smiles slyly. "Maybe." He kisses me. I kiss him urgently and passionately. My free hand finds his neck. It is quite a reach for me, with him being so tall. He has to bend way down to kiss me. But he makes it better by dropping my hand and lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and twirl my fingers in his hair.
Cato takes a few steps to the couch and sits down again. I am still on top of him and we are still kissing. I could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy. But tomorrow the games begin and life will never be the same.
Cato pulls away again. He pushes some of my hair out of my face. He pokes my nose with his pointed finger and for some reason I giggle like a six year old. He smiles at that.
"That is the Clove I really like," he says.
"You don't like the way I am?" I ask.
"I like you when you're vicious," he laughs. "But I also like when you are sweet. Like now."
I don't reply. Cato wraps his arms around me and holds me against his chest. I can hear his heart beat. A steady thumping sound. He rests his chin on the top of my head. We fit perfectly together, like a puzzle.
"If only tomorrow would never come," he whispers.
I just nod. As much as I wish tomorrow not to come, I know it is unavoidable. Tomorrow will come not matter what. I just push that thought away. I curl up tighter against Cato and close my eyes.