"Kiss me."
Clove scoffs and turns to face me, her eyebrows raised.
"Excuse me?" she gapes, her blue eyes wide and questioning. I take a deep mental breath and follow through with my completely crazy plan.
"Kiss me." I repeat, smirking as a knife lodges itself in the wall next to my head. Clove – beautiful, deadly Clove – shakes her head incredulously and returns to training, frowning the whole time. She wheels around and sputters in my direction for a second, rendered speechless by my blunt demand, and then leaves, massaging her forehead like she's confused, or suffering from a migraine.
I let my guard down for half a second, burying my head in my hands because I do actually fucking care about Clove. I rake a hand through my blond hair and look up to see a slightly shocked looking Clove clutching a bottle of water. She raises an eyebrow, smirks, and whips out a small strip of white paper. I watch her scrawl on it for a second and then tie it loosely around a small black and silver weapon. With a soft thunk the knife sticks in the propped up training mat next to me and I wrench it out, the piece of paper coming loose in my hand.
'My dearest darlingest Cato-potato,
Please take me out on a date first. Then I'll consider your wishes.
All my Love,
A very offended but rather amused Clove.'
"Fuck it." Clove sobs, crying for the first time since we entered the Games. "We're going to die. I just wanna go home." I pull her closer into my chest and her despairing whimpers and shudders rack my body sickeningly. I shush her comfortingly as she cries, stroking her hair and kissing her puffy eyelids. She exhales, and so no longer sounds fierce and deadly and venomous. Clove sounds broken, and that terrifies me.
I wander the back of my fingers over her jaw line and her blue eyes come to life, placing her thumb on my ear and the rest of her fingers round the back of my head. Clove is restored – tired, weak and shivering but alive again – and I can't help myself.
"Kiss me." I whisper, and she complies willingly, resting her soft lips on mine.
It was worth the wait.
Clove is warm and supple. She's soft. Sweet. And I literally can't get enough.
"CATO!" A scream. A growl. The sound of feet scrabbling. The sound of a girl in Eleven's huge strong hands. The sickening wet crunch of a skull being bashed in. I reach the Cornucopia in time to see Thresh take off, Katniss hot on his heels. Lying on the floor is Clove.
And the grass is red.
A dent is fucking visible on Clove's tiny head and I cradle her skull, begging her to stay with me.
"Don't go! Clove, darling, please, please, don't… stay with me! No, do stay with me! Please. Oh, God, please, I love her, please! Don't leave me Clove!" By this time I'm screaming, sobbing, and Clove's eyes are losing their sparkle.
"Ca…to…" she struggles, and my hands fly across the floor surrounding her in an attempt to pour the dark red blood back into her brain. I freeze at her words.
"Kiss… 'e." Clove whispers, like pushing her lips together would hurt. I suppress a sob for her sake and lean down to brush her lips with mine, blood staining both of us like a vile lipstick.
"I love you." I tell her, my voice breaking, and she guides my hand to her cheek as the lights leave her eyes.
I scream. I shout curses at the sky and tell the Capitol to go fuck themselves because Clove is gone. Time barely passes before two more cannons go off and the sky turns dark. I run the blade of Clove's knife over the insides of my wrists and much more vivid red blood than Clove's springs to the surface. I gently pick up the mass of the gorgeous dead girl beside me's hair and slice a lock from the end. I tuck Clove's hair in my jumpsuit pocket and kiss her forehead before leaving Clove's body for good.
I wake up in a very white room in very white clothes.
"Oh, the cliché." I grumble, rubbing my neck even though there's no pain. A soft laugh shocks me and I jump to my feet, spinning around to see…
"Clove."
"Hello sweetheart." She whispers, and I collect her in my arms. Although neither of us really seems to be here – wherever here is – she still smells like the old Clove, of vanilla and pine and smoke. I exhale and she grins up at me.
"You had a bump." I say stupidly, and she guides my hand over where the crack in her skull should be.
"Oh, shut up." Clove laughs, and I kiss her again and again and again. Her lips stick to and move against mine, a smile playing on them the whole time.
"I missed you." Clove tells me, taking my hand when we're both breathless. "Seven hours is a long time to wait when you've got eternity." I can't help but laugh, twirling my fingers through her hair. She scowls at me a little playfully.
"And what was all this about my hair? Is it true you cut it?!" She asks, aghast, and I shrug sheepishly.
"I wanted a part of you with me, and I though cutting off a finger was a little morbid." Clove laughs, properly laughs, and tackles me in a hug. Her body is warm and soft, which feels lovely after hour of having skin torn from my chest and thighs. I can't feel any pain and Clove would be the perfect medicine anyway.
"I love you." She whispers, and I grin.
"You have no idea." I mutter into her lips, and Clove raises an eyebrow. I quickly smile and say softly,
"I love you," which causes her to bury her head in my shoulder once more.
"Kiss me." I whisper when we break apart, and Clove – my Clove - claims my lips once more.