The train ride home is quiet. Nobody bothers us, except a few butlers or whatever they were with tea and smiley faces and congratulations for winning.

Nothing needs to be said between me and Cato. So I just sit with my back against the side of the couch we're sitting on with my legs sprawled across Cato's lap and play with the bottom scrappy bits of his blonde hair.

My eyes flash across a magazine and there's Loverboy and Girl on fire's faces on it. It must be an old one, from the ceremony with their capes ablaze. A storm of guilt washes over me, just for a second, I try to laugh it off, but it doesn't really work because I threw this girl to the ground and watched mutts eat her alive, I watched Cato snapped this boys head.

It's a bad feeling, guilt. I'm riddled with it. I always seem to be, when my mum died, too. I feel like it was my fault and it probably was because I screw everything up.

But honestly I came here to kill, I was raised to do it and I think about my dad beating me across the room and I think about the "you're too weak and it's your fault she's dead, and go to the Hunger Games and die and see how many fucks I give about you" and the guilt washes away and I don't care.

None of those tributes were my friends, who were they to me? I feel bad but I might aswell get over it because if I hadn't killed them I'd be dead, making my dad happy. And we don't want that.

Cato's fingers beat a rhythm on my legs.

The train screeches to a halt and I don't know if I'm ready yet.

Oh shut the fuck up Clove. You won why the fuck are you not jumping for joy?

The doors swing open and I can hear cheering, I look at Cato. His blue eyes are excited, "we'll be OK", his smile is reassuring and I can breathe again because it feels like he's the only person on the earth who'll ever understand me.

He knows I'm not all bad, the loyal blood of my mother pumps threw my vains and I could be a good person like her maybe, I think it's too late though now.

Cato's hand is in mine and he's gently pulling me towards the door.

The cheers's deafening, bets were on 12, they didn't think we'd be coming home.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

When we pull up to the victors village and I remember the fight Cato promised me for the big yellow house.

But when we arrive he winks and takes the keys we've been given to check out each house and throws them at me, grinning.

"I'm disappointed," I huff a little, "thought we'd be battling it out again."

"Just don't feel like humiliating you Clove, babe."

"Don't call me babe."

He laughs, and heads for the smaller white house as his sisters and mother pull up squeals and hugs.

And it hits me, I'm here alone. I have no family now because I don't want my father here.

Whatever, I'll be fine.

Maybe Cato knows how much this one means to me, this house I mean.

"You like that one?"

The voice startles me, I wonder how long he's been here. "Yes I do actually."

"Me too, gonna have to fight me for it." He laughs, it's a nice laugh.

At the time I didn't understand how correct he was.

"Fine. Race to that tree over there, whoever gets the first, get's the house."

"How about we make it more interesting? Race you right into the woods."

I beam at his enthusiasm and just sprint off, leaving him shouting after me about starting early.

I run right through the woods, he's bigger than me, but I'm faster. I spread my arms out and let twigs of trees and bushes slap my palms. And listen to the sticks crack under my feet and the sound of this boy's feet hitting the ground not far behind me.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, and it smells like old soggy trees and fresh berries and I like it in here.

Suddenly the boys arms are around me and I fall to the floor with him on top of me. I'm in a laughing fit when he rolls off me. I whack him, hard.

"Ow, you're a feisty thing"

I catch the wink and hit him again, a little harder.

I'm thirteen, he can't be more than fifteen or sixteen.

"What's your name?" I manage to ask, breathless and panting.

"Cato."

I scoff, "stupid name."

"Well what's yours?" He huffs.

"Clove"

"Like the leaf?"

"Um no like me."

"And the leaf. You're named after a leaf! And my name in Latin is wise."

"You know, you wise git, Clove also means Spicy."

"Suits you."

I don't say anything for awhile. We're just laying there as the sun shines on our faces.

"Why do you want that house so bad?"

And there we lay, talking for hours about my mum, his dad. Life. Training.

A silent friendship forms. I've known him for one day yet I know him inside and out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I'm screaming his name but no sound is coming out.

He's so helpless, lying in a pool of his own blood, I'm running toward him but the ground is expanding and I can't reach him. He's screaming for me.

"CATO"

I'm sat up straight and my eyes are wide when I realize I was dreaming. Well, nightmaring.

That's the first time I've slept in a week and I wake up screaming his name?

The bed's too big. I've gotten used to curling up in his arms on the hard floor, the beat of his heart on my back, his soft breath on my skin, the warmth of his body taking over me.

I lie in the bed for about an hour, willing sleep to take over, but it won't.

Maybe it's how tired I am, but my body admits defeat and lets my feet walk it straight out of my house until my fists are pummelling against his wooden door.

The door creaks open.

"Jesus Christ Clove, what now? A spider, I've told you, there more afraid of you."

"Shut the fuck up and let me in Cato."

He steps aside and I push past him and let the strangled sob escape from my throat.

What the fuck has gotten into me?

"I can't sleep," I manage, "not without you for some reason I keep dreaming you're dying and I can't get to you on time and you need me and I let you down and my bed is big and cold and you're big and warm and I need..."

"What do you need?" His voice has softened.

"It doesn't matter, I'm being stupid" I walk toward his front door.

He grabs my wrist and we're face to- well face to chest and he ducks his head, lips on mine.

It's filled with so much things and my body gives up and my brain shut down and I allow myself to be carried up his stairs as he traces my neck with his sweet, kisses. Bloody, brutal Cato kisses softly. Who would believe me if I told them that.

"You" I mutter, "I need you"

Well well well?

What are you thinking? Idk I'm not great at this yet but oh well.