Hey everyone! I can't believe you all; you are the coolest people ever! I didn't expect to get reviews so fast I'd be updating today! YOU ROCK! Okay, READ THIS ALL OF YOU, BECAUSE IT IS IMPORTANT! DO NOT SKIP THIS! If you want to see what Clove in this story looks like, search up the video Never Fade by the lovely and talented Gabrielle Aplin. Clove looks like her in my imagination. As always, replies to my reviewers at the bottom! Can I have fifteen reviews this time? Pleeeease? Okay and this is written in Peeta's POV.
The rain hammers on the tiles of the roof. Moonlight is sparse through the window, and I'm lying here. The sea pounds against the wall outside, churning with vein-blue waves crested with cream. My skin feels ice cold, but I don't retrieve the blanket on the floor. Upstairs, her breath is soft, her hair lying around her like ink as she dreams. Her eyes shut; the soft skin crinkling slightly as the thunder shakes the wooden beams of the house. Her gentle smile is at rest, while the rest of her moves gracefully; glides, not twitches, as she sleeps.
I'm thinking of her.
My throat chokes, different to anything I've ever felt. Glimmer is mine, but it feels like I belong to someone else. Her cheek so soft as my fingers traced it, passing pale, unmarred skin. Her eyes gleaming in a way I don't think I've noticed before. They were the colour of the November Sea. Dangerous and, like she believes, holding an intense beauty. Perfect emerald (cliché, I know) is nothing compared to hers, and I know every time I stare into Glimmer's green jewel centres of sight, it will disappoint me. My cobalt blue has nothing when I look at them. Those eyes the colour of pale, washed-out, surf tipped blue, swirls of green that won't match the colour of anything on land, flecked with hazel kisses and something else that I don't know.
I don't know why I'm feeling like this.
My chest stings, like my ribs want to break through the surface. My hair hits me against my forehead like brambles against my face, and my cheeks feel gaunt. Something has been set free.
I stare at the grey sky, streaked with hesitant sun beams, white like driftwood. Pale, tired and bleached. Apparently, it's a brief respite, and tonight, another storm will find fascination in the sky.
"Hey," she says, her light frame sliding onto a chair next to me. She wears a simple, black long-sleeved top, and a huge raggedy cream cardigan, along with dark jeans. Her fringe falls, almost covering her eyebrows, and her hair is straight, dainty along her slim bones. I look at her and see the abandoned princess in a story long-forgotten. A blonde imposter taking her place, dancing with the prince she knows loves the raven-haired girl, locked in a tower, but still she moves, sunshine curls bouncing along velvet-clad shoulders, as she drags a pink fingernail under his chin, ensnaring his sentences for a night, as he forgets those wild ocean eyes slowly, falling for the imposter's spell. She sits alone in her dark prison, eyes searching the coal night, hoping for help, somewhere she can release the beast inside her, let everything she's kept in fly out.
What am I thinking? I don't reckon other jocks speak or think like this.
"I know what we can do today." I tell her. She looks intrigued. "Let's have a Clove/Peeta day. Like we used to have. Just us." I throw my phone onto the smooth wooden grain of her kitchen table. "And NO Glimmer." She laughs, and nods, silky smooth lo- woaaah now, Peeta, you are not going to use the word locks. Well, at least not to describe hair. You may be a little confused, but no way is this the Middle Ages. Get a hold of yourself, boy.
"I'll make a picnic. Hold on, I'll get some stuff ready. Where are we going?"
"I don't know. Let's just drive and see where we end up." I shrug.
"Excellent plan. Spontaneity is always the best." She huffs, her back to me as she prepares… well whatever it is that she's preparing. And although she's my best friend, I slightly enjoy the view of her backside as she moves.
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH ME?!
"Says the one who's making sandwiches." I snort. I can practically feel her rolling her eyes at me.
I hear chaos erupt in the living room.
"Peeta. Check on Fleur and Meghan, will you please?" I hold my hands up in a kind of "Do you want me to die this young?" way. I realise she can't see me, so I ask her the question instead of… well gesturing it.
"You're not young; you're sixteen. I'M the young one, I'm fifteen."
"You're sixteen in twelve days." I tell her. Clove's birthday is on the twenty eighth of June. She just ignores me, so I grudgingly go and check on thing one and thing two.
All hell is breaking loose in the lounge.
"MEG! STOP BEING RUBBISH, AND GO AND GET ME THE FAIRY DUST AND MY SPELL BOOK!" Fleur, appearing to be brandishing a fairy wand at Meghan, yells. Meg is covered in glittery pink powder, and looks distinctly peeved. Pickle is wearing large wings on his back, and is looking despairingly at the girls; one of those pitiful dog-people looks on his beagle-ish features.
"What's going on here?" I ask cautiously.
"HOW IS HE EVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO FLY IF I DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT SPELL OR MY FAIRY DUST, MEGHAN?! ANSWER ME THAT!" Fleur shouts, apparently ignoring me.
"Fleur told me to be her assistant to help Pickle fly, and I said no, but she told me she'd steal my fairy lights and turn them into bees if I didn't. Now, she tipped one bottle of fairy dust all over me, and said she'd change me into a frog, because I was a useless assistant, and then she said she'd pour out all of my special Barbie fashion doll paint." Meg tells me, kicking at the leg of an armchair disconsolately. Frowns all round.
"Right. This is silly. Fleur, apologize, now. And Meghan, if she tries to do any of that, come tell me. Or Clove. I don't mind who. And Pickle wouldn't like to fly, would you boy? So leave him alone. Okay. Now why don't you go and make your OTHER sister grow an extra nose?" I fake whisper that last part, and they dissolve into a fit of snottery giggles.
"I heard that! If you girls make me grow any extra body parts, there will be no fizzy rainbow unicorn sweets for you!"
They hush up immediately.
"What have the munchkins been up to?" Questions Clove's Mom, making an appearance in the lounge. I like Clove's Mom, Blye, she's cool. She looks a lot like Clove, but she hasn't got Clove's eyes. Her Mom's eyes are brown, like Fleur's and Meg's.
"Nothing Mom, Peeta has got it under control!"
The raven haired madam appears a few moments later, struggling under the weight of a huge picnic basket. I take it from her, and she grins up at me gratefully.
Anything for that smile.
"Mom, Peeta and I are going out. Enjoy the sunshine while we can and all that. You don't need us, do you? We can cancel and look after the little Flurries over here, if you want to go out." She taps Fleur and Meghan's noses, and they almost purr up at her, feeling the love in her hand.
"No, Sweetie, you go!" she hurries us out the door. "Have fun!"
We meander down the street slowly, towards my house. My hulking mess of a rust-red Chevrolet truck hides in our garage, and I coax her out with my keys, elbow grease and a reverse pedal. Clove climbs in and onto the faded seats, ripped with age and Pickle and Cooper, our dogs. The radio is on, and she sings along, her voice sweet as it carries like birdsong thanks to the air-con. We drive through and out of our neighbourhood, cruising over town barrier lines and into a country road that will take us eventually to the next village, but we won't end up there. Although it is June, the leaves have faded to russet, gold and auburn, peppered with the occasional green. The dying sun, fatally wounded by the encroaching rain that will haunt us tonight, glows bronze as it cuts through the sky and my windshield, lighting her hair and eyes with it's aging beam. I smile at her, and she laughs up at me, and her eyes are so, so alive. The freckles that I love, the cheeks that flush red with a moving smile that carries its 3D sound up to my ears. In the late light and the deep red of the trees, as we move along the quiet road, I see her. Her for real, what she actually is.
And she's beautiful.
She turns up the music as a new song comes on. I remember it, and lose myself in her voice as it ensnares my senses. I don't look at her again, because I know if I do, I won't be able to look away, and I need to focus on the road.
"Well we'll kiss, for that's how it begins. And we'll embrace, just to warm our skins. I'll think of her and you'll think of him and we'll talk to keep the silence from our ears, and we'll laugh because we're so close to tears." She sings, her voice light and rustic, the music hating me and loving me at the same time.
It's a curious feeling.
She smiles at me from the green grass that she dances in, the blades reaching past her knees. I lie there, and she waves, the sun dancing in her eyes as she sways, the music from the old portable radio with us fuelling her. For a moment, this feels like we're in love. The leaves fall onto us, and she laughs, high and happy. I close my eyes, letting the beams sink in through my eyelids, lighting up the colours that dance in the blackness of the un-seeing sight.
"Peeta." She calls, and my bones ache with something that I don't know when she says my name, like she needs me, needs me a lot. I open my eyes and stand up, finding my way over to her, as she stoops over something. Her pale, slender fingers push a strand of thorn-coloured hair behind her ear as the other hand picks at something.
"Blackberries." She whispers, like it's a miracle. "They're ripe and everything." Her thick-knitted sleeves are pulled down, over the lower half of her palm. I help her as she takes handfuls of the dark, sweet fruit. She lays them down softly on the pale blue picnic blanket, and they leak slightly, their mauve juice staining the soft cashmere. I smile at her, and she grins at me, her teeth sparkling. I pull a face, and chase her through the wild grass and wheat. The sun is beginning to set, a deep orange glow that colours everything in softer shades of tangerine and peach. Her face is stained with the colours of summer fruit from the light. I hug her round the waist from the back when I catch her, and she laughs as my arm tightens around her stomach, and she bends slightly with giggles, her eyes closing, and her nose scrunching up, as she pushes the same strand of bramble-coloured hair back again behind her earlobe. I spin her round and we waltz jokingly around the field. We both grin and laugh and smile more than we both have ever. When I pull her close to me in the dance, I can feel her heart flutter against my chest. I pick her a pink flower from the blackberry bush, and tuck it in her hair. She smiles at me, and I look deep into her eyes. She leans in ever so slightly, and I follow her lead. Our noses are almost touching, when she pulls away and runs away, laughing wildly as I chase her. When I find her, I tickle her mercilessly. Her skin is warm in my large, scarred hands, and I hold her close as she finds her breath. Our faces are close together, and I can make constellations out of her freckles.
It's silent now, apart from the song on the radio near us. We're both looking at each other.
"Peeta," she whispers, and the gasp chokes my throat. "Can I tell you a secret?"
I nod, because I don't trust my self to speak.
"I've never kissed anyone before." Is her answer. Again we are silent, and our noses touch. My arm finds her waist, as she looks down, embarrassed. My other hand moves upward, and finds her chin. I slowly tilt it up, until our lips meet, triggering wildfire to course through my veins. The sun smiles at us, together in a field of grass and wheat.
We don't speak on the way home. She looks out of the window; her eyes don't find me again. I, on the other hand, can not stop my gaze stealing glimpses at her. I know I have to end it with Glimmer. It will never be the same, as it was with Clove. I'm fed up of mini-skirts and bitchiness. Plumping lip-gloss and ankle boots. I need chunky cardigans and long un-mascaraed lashes. I need blackberries and sunset wheat grass.
I need Clove.
When the first raindrops fall onto the windshield, I see her eyes find my face.
"Don't break up with Glimmer." She tells me, her voice quiet.
"Clove, I don't want to be with her. I want to be with you. I lov-"
"Don't say it." She begs. "You love Glimmer. I want you to be with her. You need her. She needs you."
I don't say anything else, because out of the corner of my eye, I see tears fall down her cheeks.
"I can't be with you," she whispers "until you need me."
The next night, as the wind screams and shrieks at me, I'm with Cato, Glimmer, Enobaria, Finnick and Johanna, at the movie theatre. Although Cato is messing around with popcorn and Johanna is flirting with Finnick, I'm not there. I'm in a field, dancing with Clove and her too long sleeves. I'm bathed in peach light, as she finds ripe blackberries too early in the year, laughing at her awe-struck face. I'm with her.
"Peeta babe? Wake up!" Glimmer shrieks, waving her perfect hand in front of my face. Her voice is too sugary and high-pitched. Her hand is too perfect. I want Clove's warm tone. I want her scarred, small hand with the slender fingers.
"Yes, Glim?" I sigh, trying to contain everything. Don't say a word, Peeta. Clove doesn't want you.
"You know what'll cheer you up?" she purrs rhetorically, a fuchsia talon stroking my chin. I am reminded all too familiarly of a story long forgotten. A story of a blonde imposter, ensnaring a prince's senses for a night, while his princess lies in a locked tower, abandoned and alone.
She clambers onto my lap, and crushes her lips onto mine.
Lyrics float into my mind. The song from yesterday dances into my thoughts.
Because you don't taste like you should.
She doesn't. Glimmer tastes like tequila and manufactured bubble-gum.
I need peppermint and early berries. Cinnamon and the ocean.
And you don't fit in my arms like she would.
I need soft arms, and a body that fits mine like a puzzle piece that we've found the missing piece too. I don't want sharp angles and Barbie plastic.
I want Clove.
So what do we think? Please let me know!
Kjane2000: You are now officially one of my favourite people! Reviewing three times?! YOU ABSOLUTELY ROCK! And thank you so much! I kind of get lost in writing so :) I really like Clove and Peeta, and I thought a story like this would be really nice! Again, thank you so much!
SnowGemsxo: Don't worry! I can see how you would make that mistake! Don't worry about the i-pod thing either, I always read fanfictions on my iPhone! I hope you enjoyed it!
CatoAndCloveMeantToBe: Thank you! I really hope you are enjoying it, and like the new update! Please let me know what you think about it!
UnseenWonders: I don't want your llama, Leah ;)
Fabina-romione-rebel-lover Thank you so much for reviewing twice! I hope you like this new chapter! I tried really hard to make it seem like Peeta would think! Please let me know what you think!
Guest: Here's the fourth chapter! Please let me know what you think! And thank you so much, I'm really pleased you think it's good!
So fifteen reviews okay guys? And the song is The Last Unicorn, by passenger. It's brilliant; I sincerely recommend listening to it! Right, until next time everyone!xx
