Burning Buildings, a hunger games fanfic

AN: I'm sorry this is really crappy and stuff:) I just felt like I needed to post something. Review! Also, if you have any suggestions on what I should write about, either tell me in the review, or go to my tumblr which is linked on my profile! Thanks you guys!

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken

These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours

They burn 'cause they are all afraid

For every one of us, there's an army of them

But you'll never fight alone

Clove Kentwell was often described as a burning building. Not just because of her fiery temper and ability to cause others distress, but because of the fact that she could come crashing down any second, and no one wants to see that.

Cato first heard of Clove in the academy lunch room when he was ten and she was seven. When his friend had mentioned how dangerous she seemed, Cato had scoffed. He often judged people before really speaking to them, and this caused his a lot of trouble, but it was a habit.

The first time Cato laid eyes on her was when he was fourteen and she was eleven. It had been after hours that she'd decided to practice late, which Cato always did. He felt like kicking himself for feeling jealous that she was stealing his lime light. To him, she was just a small girl.

That night was also the first time they spoke. Cato had started it, of course.

"Almost a bulls eye." He had said mockingly as he'd walked up behind her as she trained. "Almost."

Clove had spun around to look at him, eyeing up the tall blonde. She had rolled her eyes. "Do you want something?"

"I train tonight." He shrugged. "You need to come back some other time, 'Clover'."

She hurled another knife towards the target, and then turned back to him for the second time.

"My name is Clove, not Clover. Yours is Cato. I've heard about you; the tall intimidating but very attractive yet jealous guy who likes to make people want him."

He looked at her for a moment, and then smirked. "You have a pretty terrible judge of character."

"It isn't my fault you have a damn right ugly personality."

The next time they were together, they weren't speaking. No, they were fighting. They were clawing, biting, scratching, cutting, punching, but it was all pointless. Neither of them ever won.

The first time they kissed, they were in a similar situation. Cato was seventeen and Clove was fourteen. It was after everyone had gone off to their dorms, and Cato and Clove hung back as always. After slapping away his hand numerous times, she'd finally just given in and tugged him closer.

Cato was obsessed with the idea that he didn't love Clove. He lied to himself a lot, but no one was quite sure if they could call this time a lie. Clove never told him she loved him either, but they didn't stop kissing. Neither of them wanted to.

The first time they fucked was in Cloves dorm. It was a horrible, sick argument, and she loved it. Cato found that it was the only way to get her to forgive him, and to prove to himself that she was his.

The first time either of them ever thought about losing was at the reaping. Cato, of course, stepped up onto the podium on his last year, confident and proud. When Clove was called up, she wandered forward casually, waiting for someone to volunteer. Someone had to step forward, Cato thought, but they didn't.

So, on the last night before the games, they lay in Cloves room, wrapped up in eachothers arms. He told her that despite her being a tribute, he still had to try to win. She agreed she would do the same. He left when she fell asleep.

And still, after almost the entire games, the first time Cato cried for Clove was when he held her limp body.