I couldn´t remember the last time it snowed so hard if I tried. The streets were covered by thick blankets of snow and it was impossible to see the pavement through it. My feet were soaked and so was my hair, due to all the snowflakes landing on my head. I walked down the road, shaking as the air seemed to cool down even more.
"You´re late." He is sitting on the wooden bench in front of a closed coffee shop. His blue eyes are fixed on me since he caught my figure coming down the street. His intense stare sends chills down my spine as I begin to forget about the low temperature that threatens to freeze the whole District.
I wipe the snow off the bench with my gloved hand and sit close to Cato, who immediatly pulls his strong arm over my shoulders.
"Enobaria made me stay longer," I tell him, meeting his eyes with mine as if saying it´s not my fault that I was late. Even so, it was one of the rare times I was late to anything. Out of the two of us, Cato was definitly not the one to complain about me getting late. I can´t even count all the times he left me waiting for him. "And when I said I had to go, she started ranting about how she thinks I´m neglecting training because of you." He replies with his usual arrogant smirk, as if he actually agrees with Enobaria - and I know he does, of course he does. I roll my eyes, already used to his cockiness. "You´re just as crazy as her for thinking that."
"You´re here with me , aren'tyou?" he taunts "If training was so important, you would have stayed longer."
I shrug, sliding my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. I´m wearing two blouses and a cotton sweater, which usually is so warm it makes me sweat; but tonight, with fifteen minutes left to midnight, it´s not enough. My body is still shivering under Cato´s arm, who rubs the side of my arm in an attempt to warm me up.
"We should go inside," he suggests, trying to hide the worry in his voice. If I didn´t know him so well I would say he wants to go to his house and find a different way to keep us both warm. But this is Cato we´re talking about, and I can read him like an open book.
"What, you´re scared of a little cold?" mocking him, I stand up from the bench.
"No, I´m just trying to save you, my little damsel in distress, from freezing to death." His words cause me to scowl slightly. And the tone of his voice, it seemed like he was talking with a little kid. If there´s something I hate to be called is "little" and it´s even worse when people hint that I need someone to protect me from anything. I´m not little and I´m not a damsel in distress. I could kill a man twice my size with a single stroke if I intended to. Fortunately for Cato, I don´t feel like killing anyone tonight.
Cato laughs as he relishes in my annoyment. He stands on his feet and pats the top of my head like I am a dog.
He starts walking, leaving me behind as he heads towards an alley which leads to his house. We always go to Cato´s house to be alone and most times I even spend the night there, since his parents stay out in hotels or sleep at the office. Given how often I go to Cato´s house, it would be to expect that I met his parents often; yet, the last time I saw them with Cato was almost two years ago, after a serious injury he suffered in a fight, being sent to the hospital with urgency.
"Clove, come on." I narrow my eyes as the dark and the snow falling from the sky decrease the quality of my vision. I see him standing still, about thirty meters away from me. He makes a sign with his arm, telling me to start walking. With a low grumble, I do as he asks and head towards the alley, his arm coiling around my waist as I catch up with him. I can feel how warm he is as I lean onto him. His body radiates a natural heat that contrasts perfectly with my natural coolness.
I could have driven to Cato´s house to avoid this ass-freezing air and the humid pieces of snow that slide inside my shoes at each step I take. However, I wanted to walk through the streets and feel the snow on my clothes and hair. I wanted to see how empty the District is at night, when the children are sleeping and the adults trade their houses for the warm liquid of alchol in a bar. Cato doesn´t like winter, he prefers Summer and walking around shirtless and swimming in the pool all morning. On the other hand, winter is my favorite season. Everything is hidden under layers of white, the color of purity. How ironic is it that a District full of malicious minds is covered in white during winter, as a bride whose cruel face is hidden by a veil? It´s amusing enough for me, making me walk in the streets at night instead of taking my parents´ car.
It´s curious, I think, how something as simple as snow manages to turn dark, ugly alleys into something almost beautiful.
We walk in silence until we reach his house, which is empty and warm, awaiting us. I take off my jacket and shoes, quickly wrapping a blanket around my shoulders as I sit on Cato´s bed. The most reasonable thing to do would be to take a shower and change into dry clothes, but I´m too cold and numb to even considerate the option.
Cato comes back from the kitchen, holding a plate with four slices of pizza left from his lunch and a bottle of whisky.
"I bet you´re hungry," he says as he sits down by my side, placing the objects on the mattress.
I nod, reaching out for a slice of pizza with olives and tomato sauce. "Starving."
Time passes by as we lie on his bed, stomachs full and veins warm with alchol and something else we are forbidden to think of, let alone feel it. My head rests on his chest as he entertains himself by playing with my dark locks. Usually, we get home earlier and he sits on the couch and I cook us something for dinner. We eat and drink, argueabout something stupid and put an end to the conversation by crushing our lips together hungrily. My nights with Cato almost always end with us making our way to his bed, throwing the clothes on our bodies to the floor and waking up with naked bodies under satin sheets. Today, however, is one of those days when we are both exhausted and the other´s presence is enough.
It doesn´t take me too long until my eyes are heavy and I feel like dozing off. Aware of my condition, he brushes his lips on the top my head, muttering "Goodnight, Clove."
I let out an tired yawn, hiding my face on his broad chest. "Night.. and merry Christmas, asshole."
A/N: I am aware that this should have been written during Christmas time, and I thought many times about writing something like this (although it was ten times cheesier in my mind). Only today did I have enough time, inspiration and vocabulary to write this one-shot. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know if you did. Thank for you reading!xx