hey, so this is for the coppertone's war christmas exchange. and, clove and cato win instead of katniss and peeta
dedication- distorted innocence
prompts- telescope, a half-finished book is a half-finished love affair (david mitchell), show me a hero and i'll write you a tragedy (f. scott fitzgerald), if these sheets were states by the national
pairing- clato
Cato's POV
I should have seen it, I should have seen it coming
We won, we did it. We have beat 22 other tributes and made it out of the death bowl alive. Who cares if the Capitol hates us? Who cares that we could be killed at any minute? We have each other and that's all that matters.
Some would say that our love was an act, so we could get sponsors and make it out alive. But that's only 12, not us. Our love was true, deep as the heart and soul. You can see it in our eyes, in the way we hold hands, and the way we talk. Love is the only word for it. It's not a friendship, it's not some little fling, and it's not fake. It's true love.
I don't know how I didn't see it. She acted normal, but there was a look in her eye. A look that should of told me how she was breaking.
breaking, slowly and softly
On edge. She would jump at any sound and she would always look around for predators. I thought it was normal, most victors do this. I did it every so often, but she did it more. She wasn't just reliving the arena, it's like she was afraid of something here in our hometown.
She wasn't herself. She didn't like to go out as much, she'd rather stay home and be holed up in her room with books. Clove was never a reader, not from what I knew of her. I remember when I went over to see if she wanted to go watch the new trainees, as it was one of her favorite hobbies.
I walked up her front steps and knocked on the door, knowing she would answer. She always did. She's not as quick as she usually is. But, eventually she comes to the door and opens it, not shocked to see me there.
"Hey Cato, what's up?" she greets, trying to act like herself but something in her voice makes me question that.
"I was just wondering if you wanted to go down to the training center to watch the trainees. You look like you could use a few laughs," I say, giving her one of my Cato charm smiles. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"I'd love to Cato, but I can't. I'm in the middle of this book and you know what they say, a half-finished book is a half-finished love affair," Clove says, "Maybe some other time?"
"Yeah, sure," I say as she closes the door in my face.
I should have seen it then. I should have seen the hurt in her eyes, the rope that held her here, breaking. I should've known it, seen it in the way she talked and the way she walked. Clove never reads, ever. She would constantly complain about reading in school and hated it with a burning passion. She wouldn't read even if someone was pointing a gun at her. That should have gave it all away.
If I had done something, one little thing. If I had reacted and not have brushed it off, she would have had someone. She would have had someone to talk to, to confide in. To help her get over whatever she's going through. Instead, we're standing here in her room, me trying not to panic, and Clove, with a knife at her wrist.
sometimes, we can't deal with the pain
She didn't look like herself. She looks like a girl from a horror movie who ran for her life through the woods, fell down a hill, and got up and ran through the rain. Her hair looked like she hadn't brushed it in ages, which she probably hadn't. Her clothes were wrinkled and looked dirty. Her face was red and it looked like she had been crying for days. She looked like hell.
"Cato, what are you doing here?" Clove whispered when I walked in. She didn't seem happy to see me and her voice was shaking.
"I wanted to make sure you were ok. Thank god I came over because you obviously aren't ok," I say, walking towards her only for her to take a step back.
"Cato, just leave. I'm fine," Clove says, her hand shaking and her voice trembling. I just shook my head, walking closer. I have to calm her down, get her to relax so that the knife will go away and we can have our own happily ever after. Or as much of one that you can get in Panem.
"No, you're not fine. Clove, you have a knife at your wrist!" I say, trying to grab her arm, but she pulls away and holds the knife closer to her wrist.
"Cato, how would you know if I was fine or not. I've barely seen you since we got back from the games," Clove says.
"That's cause you never let me in. You've ignored me and acted like a chop liver. It's not my fault that your feeling this way, it's the capitols. It's like they said show me a hero and i'll write you a tragedy. Don't get mad at me for trying to help," I say, trying not to get mad at her.
"You don't know me at all. If you did, you'd know I have to do this," Clove says, backing up even more, the knife shaking in her hand.
"Clove, I do know you. I know that you love to look at the stars through your telescope. I know you love to laugh at people's misfortune. I know you love the song if these sheets were states by the nationals. I know your favorite weapon is a knife. And I know you are one of the strongest people I've ever met. which is why I don't understand why your doing this," I say, stepping closer. This time, she doesn't step back, but looks at the ground.
"It won't go away Cato. I can't get it out of my mind. I just see the bodies and the blood and it just won't go away. Cato, it won't go away," Clove says, looking up and tears running down her face. I walk over and take the knife away and throw it to the ground, pulling her into my arms. I rub her back, letting her cry. After a minute or so, I pull back look her in the eyes.
"Clove, I may not see the things you see when you close your eyes, but I feel your pain. I am going to do anything in my power to help you and be there for you. Just call me or come and find me and I'll be there," I say and Clove smiles and goes into my arms again. And that's how we stay. No matter what we go through, we'll always have something stronger. Our love.