At 2:43 in the morning, Clove is still awake.

It isn't her fault, or her choice. Her mind just won't stop racing. One of those nights, she supposes. Between Cato's full-on confession and Glimmer's almost-confession, she doesn't even know what to think anymore.

She's suddenly aware of just how dry her mouth has become. Glancing over at Glimmer, sound asleep, Clove carefully slides out of the bed and pads across the hardwood flooring, opening the door as silently as possible and slipping out into the hallway. When she begins down the stairs, though, she can see a faint, flickering blue light coming from the living room. Somebody is watching TV.

She assumes it's one of the boys; Marvel's parents are away on business and Glimmer is still asleep. If it's not one of the boys, though, there's the possibility that it's a serial killer. Clove doesn't want to take any chances, so her first stop is the kitchen. She walks past the living room as silently as possible, entering the kitchen and trying to peer inside. With a sigh of relief, she sees that it's Cato, sprawled on the couch with his hair sticking out in every direction, unstyled after lying down for so long.

She pours herself a glass of water and decides to join him, stepping through the second entrance to the living room so that she's facing him head-on. He breaks his gaze from the TV to focus on her, and he smiles tiredly.

"Hey," he says, voice raspy.

She smiles. "Hey," she echoes. "That spot taken?"

Cato shakes his head, sliding to the right and patting the space beside him. Clove takes the spot, bringing her legs up and letting them rest sideways underneath her. Without speaking, Cato takes half of the soft, oversized blanket he's using and places it over her. She thanks him quietly, and he nods in acknowledgment.

For a while they sit in silence, watching reruns of That '70s Show. It's an episode that Clove hasn't seen before, and she finds herself laughing every now and then. She decides to speak up once they hit a commercial break. "So what's up?" she asks, not taking her eyes away from the TV. "Can't sleep?"

Cato sighs, and she sees him shake his head from the corner of her eye. "Not at all," he admits. "Unfortunately, I remember every last bit of our conversation from earlier. Apparently I wasn't as drunk as I thought I was."

Clove says nothing. An infomercial for some granite skillet has come on. She pretends to be interested in it until the commercial ends, then speaks again. "So what are you gonna do?" she asks.

"I don't know."

She nods, taking another sip of her water before placing it back on the coffee table before her. "Well," she says, this time turning to face him. With a start, she realizes that he's already looking at her. "I think you should have an honest talk with her. Just… don't come out with guns blazing or anything. Ask if she's been feeling okay lately, express some concern. You'll never know if you don't try."

Cato groans and leans back, so that his entire back and head are resting against the couch. She follows suit, and this time when they turn to look at each other, their faces are dangerously close. Neither make an effort to move.

"I'm just nervous, I guess," says Cato, his eyes darting around her features.

Clove nods. "I get that," she says.

"No," he says. "Not… not for the reason you're thinking. Not completely, anyway."

"Then why?" she asks, her voice surprisingly breathless. She can't help but glance down at his lips because oh god they're right there, and is he leaning in too or is she just imagining it?

Nope, he's definitely leaning in. He's looking at her lips too and oh no this is wrong this is so so wrong and suddenly his breath is fanning over her face and he's so close to her before she suddenly blinks and clears her throat, the spell broken as she sits up straight. She pretends that she can't hear Cato's sigh, instead occupying herself with taking another sip from her water. She presses a hand to her forehead and shakes her head. Did she really almost kiss Cato? Did Cato really almost kiss her?

Not good. So not good.

Again she clears her throat, deciding to take the act natural route again. She leans back against the couch and focuses intently on the TV, the show coming back on. Cato seems to be doing the same, though she can see his hands clenching and unclenching.

"I'm sor—" he begins, but she cuts him off.

"It's fine," she says quickly. "You've… you've still got some alcohol in your system. You aren't thinking straight. It's fine."

She chooses not to include the fact that a human liver can process one drink per hour, and that Cato had maybe three drinks in two or three hours, and that was about three hours ago, so really there's no way it's affecting his thought process.

Cato nods and swallows. "Yeah," he mumbles, and Clove squeezes her eyes shut in frustration. This can not be happening.

She's suddenly aware, though, of just how heavy her eyelids have become. She's exhausted, both physically and mentally, and can feel herself drifting off to sleep already. The next thing she knows, her eyes are sliding shut and she's drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

"Oh, shit."

Clove's eyes open slowly, the morning sunlight blinding her slightly. She squints, blinking a few times and trying to gain her bearings. She inhales sharply when she realizes that she's fallen asleep on Cato, the side of her face on his shoulder and her hands pressed against his side. Worst of all, his arm somehow found its way to the back of the couch, practically around her shoulders, with his own head resting on top of her own.

Immediately she bolts away, as if she's been burned. Her sharp actions wake Cato, who blinks confusedly. When he sees her, he smiles lazily, stretching his arms up over his head and yawning.

"Well, that was adorable," says Marvel, standing in front of them with his arm crossed and a mischievous grin on his face. "Really, super cute. You're lucky I didn't take any photos, otherwise I'd have blackmail for life."

Clove groans and sits up straight, rubbing at her eyes. "We just fell asleep, Marvel," she says.

He scoffs. "Yeah, on top of each other. Jeez, you're even luckier that Glimmer isn't awake yet."

The mention of Glimmer has memories flooding back into Clove's mind, of Glimmer's and Cato's confessions, of almost kissing Cato. God, this is so fucked up. When she turns to look at Cato he's already staring at her, something unreadable in his blue eyes. They maintain eye contact for three beats before Cato clears his throat and turns away, Clove doing the same.

"What's for breakfast?" asks Cato, blatantly changing the subject.

Marvel stares at his friend, his mind obviously whirring. They seem to be having a silent conversation until Marvel finally breaks it, looking Clove in the eyes. "I don't know. I was thinking Clove and I could take a ride, grab Starbucks for everyone."

The way he speaks makes Clove believe that there's definitely a hidden meaning. She knows that Marvel's a lot smarter than he acts, and is afraid that he's definitely caught onto something that he shouldn't have.

Still, she sighs. "Yeah, that sounds good. Just let me change."

Marvel nods, and she practically leaps out of the couch and flies up the stairs, all too eager to remove herself from the awkward situation.

They've barely been on the road for two minutes before Marvel opens his mouth.

"You seriously have some explaining to do."

Clove groans and leans back, wishing for all the world that she could shrink into the leather and disappear completely. "I don't know what you want me to say," she admits.

"Well, you could start with admitting to me that you're totally in love with Cato."

She can feel her face heating up, whipping around to face Marvel. "I'm not!" she says. "Do you realize how dumb you sound? He's dating Glimmer, for god's sake."

"Are you implying that you can't like Cato just because he's dating your friend?"

"No. Yes! I don't know."

Marvel chuckles, turning on his right directional as they come to a stoplight. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it, Clo," he says. "You can't help your feelings, you know? In all honesty, I think it was bound to happen eventually."

Clove opts for silence, crossing her arms and staring out the window. The sky is overcast, and she wonders if it might rain later.

"For what it's worth, I think he might like you, too."

That's what I'm afraid of, she thinks.

"I doubt it," she says.

Marvel shakes his head. "Look, he told me too, okay? Last night, the whole Glimmer-doesn't-love-me thing. They may seem perfect on the outside, but I think both of them are just harboring these bottled-up feelings of being trapped in a relationship that they don't even want to be in. But they're both just too afraid to admit it. They're probably scared of ruining the group, or something."

Clove stares at Marvel for a moment, her mouth slightly agape. "Remind me why you aren't taking psychology with me this year."

Marvel turns to face her, grinning. "They simply wouldn't be able to handle my genius," he says. Clove whacks his shoulder lightly with the back of her hand, and he laughs. "I'm serious though. I think that whole relationship is on borrowed time."

Clove purses her lips. "Maybe," she says. "But what do we do about it, then? Just let them completely implode?"

Marvel is quiet for a moment, likely choosing his words carefully. "I think so," he says. "I mean, there's only so much we can do for them. They need to figure it out themselves, you know? They'll probably get hurt in the process, and all you and I can do is be there for them when they do."

Clove nods, chewing on her bottom lip. She stays quiet for a minute before blurting out, "Do you think I'm a rebound?"

"Well, they haven't broken up yet."

"Cato almost kissed me last night."

"Oh, fuck."

Clove leans forward, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I know," she says. "I mean, I almost kissed him, too, but he was all like oh, I'm nervous, and I was like yeah, I get it, but then he goes not about that, though, and at that point I was confused, and then he started leaning in and he was right there and then I did, too, and oh my god, Marvel, I'm a terrible friend."

"Dude, slow down," says Marvel, pulling into the Starbucks parking lot and turning his car off. He unbuckles his seat belt and turns to face her fully. "Just… just take a deep breath. Oh my god, are you… are you crying?"

"No!" she says, bringing her face up to meet his. It's true; she isn't crying, but hell if she doesn't want to. "I'm just… stressed! I'm so fucking stressed."

Marvel snorts. "I'd say you have reason to be. This is all kinds of fucked up."

"You're telling me."

He sighs, glancing left and right before looking at her again. "Okay. Well, we're just going to move on for now, alright? We're gonna walk into this Starbucks and order a whole bunch of overpriced coffee and bagels, and then we're gonna leave and go back to my house and eat breakfast with our friends as though you aren't tangled up in the love triangle of the century. Sound good?"

Clove takes a deep breath and then nods. "Sounds perfect."

"Alright, then. Let's move."

Ah! The feels, they're here! What the heck is going to happen next?

Things are really picking up now. Didn't I tell you they would? Climax is definitely coming very soon. I'd give it about two or three more chapters, if I'm being honest, but who knows?

Anyway, see you guys next time! Don't forget to review!