A/N: Sorry about the re-update. I was trying to replace the chapter because I found a typo, but accidentally deleted it. :/

Thank you guys so much for reviewing! Long chapter. This is one of my favourites; I absolutely loved writing it. Hope you like it!

youburnwithus12: Ahahaha, thanks so much! And you're welcome, it's the least I can do back :)

clatoforeverx: Really? Thank you so much!

CLOCATOMARVGLIM: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad to hear you like my stoy. Hmm, I might consider doing a Clato fic. I'm sorry, but Glarvel is a bit too off-putting for me, but I'll definitely think about writing a Clato one soon. :)

Belenydbzfan: There's some info about the break in the A/N at the bottom. Ah, I honestly have no idea what I'm going to do with Lakyn.

Emily: Thank you for reviewing! Here's the update, hope you like it. :)

Disclaimer: I'm not Suzanne Collins and I don't own The Hunger Games.

I Never Knew

By kelster07

Chapter 11: Balcony Spies and Lingering Hugs

Exactly five minutes later, the doorbell rings. I leap off from the armchair and open the door. Cato's dressed from head to toe in black and has a black cloth that looks suspiciously like a balaclava in his hand. My jaw drops and I burst out laughing.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" I ask between fits of giggles, reaching to feel his forehead with the back of my hand. What is wrong with him?

He swats my arm away and scowls. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go get dressed. Black only."

Wow. He really does know me better than anyone else. I go to my room and pull on a black long-sleeved tee-shirt and black skinny jeans. With autumn looming overhead, nights are getting chillier by the day. Or night.

When I emerge, Cato's finished washing the dishes and is helping himself to the container of jelly slice.

"You washed the dishes?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I had nothing else to do!" he fires back defensively. I know he only did it to lighten the crushing workload of my mum's. Like always, and I'm grateful for it too. "Okay, you're wearing this."

He tosses the mysterious garment over and I catch it. Surprise! It is a balaclava.

I wrinkle my nose and complain, "I am not wearing that!"

"Yes, you are." He sits down on the sofa with an extra loud thump, as if to prove his point.

"No I'm not! I'll look like a freaking kidnapper. Or murderer! Or stalker!"

"And you say I have an over-reactive imagination?"

I glare at him. He ignores me and says, "Okay, here's my marvellous plan." I groan and the bad joke and he continues, "I'll park around the back and th-"

"Tell me your so-called marvellous plan in the car. It's almost eight."

He grumbles but nevertheless follows me out into the coming night. I fling the door of the old blue car open and hop into the a scruffy seat. It was his dad's old car. When I say old, I mean old. But it's still a car. And feels like home.

He gets in and starts talking again. "I'll park around the back of the house—it's like a freaking mansion. Three stories or something. Seriously. His room is somewhere on the second floor and-"

He stops when I give out a shriek. "Do you seriously expect me to climb a house?"

Scenarios are racing through my head. Images of falling off, cracking my head open, twisting my neck, I think you get the picture.

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "It's not that hard."

I start to protest but he cuts me off. "There should be a ledge or something, and you can climb onto the balcony from there. He's room is somewhere on the second floor, where the balcony is."

I nod. Sounds simple enough.

He turns to face me and then deadpans, "Do not get caught."

I roll my eyes. "Duh."

We arrive at the house and I get out of the car. I can't help but gawk at the estate.

"Stop drooling, Clo," Cato teases.

I swat his teasing face away. "I was not drooling!"

"Fine, whatever. Just hurry up, it's getting dark," Cato says while looking down at his watch. Reluctantly, I pull on the balaclava and groan when Cato starts having a laughter fit.

"Man, I wish I could take a p-"

"Cato!" I hit him square on the chest and he stumbles backwards. We walk in silence through the maze of hedges into the backyard of Marvel's house. I'm genuinely surprised there's no armed guard or siren gone off yet.

When we reach the football field sized mansion, Cato gives me a boost by making a sort of foothold by lacing his hand together. I step onto it and brace myself while I wobble. Luckily, Cato's strong arms don't give way underneath me. I cautiously climb onto the nearby ledge, hoping it doesn't break under my weight. It squeaks, but stays there. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Just looking through the window, Marvel's room should be one of them," Cato hisses, pointing to the balcony. I give him a thumbs up and prepare myself for the leap. To get from the ledge to the balcony, I have to jump, like more than metre. And it's pretty high off the ground now. Using the wooden panel underneath me as leverage, I spring as high as I can and grab onto the railing at the last second. My heart rate speeds up and I quickly climb over the railing onto the balcony. Whew. Thank god I didn't break my neck doing this. Yet, at least.

Below me, he visible loosens a bit. I look around one more time before crouching down. I crawl on my knees on the wooden floor, wincing as splinters start to gather. I peek into the first window and almost lose my balance when I saw the shameless erm… "female" posters on the wall. I gag. Obviously not Marvel's room. Spiky blonde hair sticks up from behind a couch. Gloss.

The next room looks like a freaking flower shop. The pink version of hell. I can't imagine how Cashmere can just sleep there without suffocating. Pink roses and lilies are on every dresser and strewn mascara and lipstick lie on the vanity table. I'm about to move onto the next window until I see a face sticking out from the window. Cashmere has a strange and slightly startled expression on her face. I dart away before she can take a second look.

I stumble to the last window in the shared balcony. This better be his room, because there's no way I'm climbing up three stories to apologise. Clove Sevina does not apologise, so this case is already an extreme.

The walls are painted a light blue colour and there's only a bed and office desk in the room, unlike the two previous ones. I smile when I see a loose focaccia recipe lying on the floor. I turn around and Cato's grinning his head off in the ground. I sigh and take the balaclava off.

I see Marvel writing something on the office desk in silence. I knock on the glass and I almost fall off the balcony laughing at his face expression.

His face turns deathly pale and he jumps up, looking around the room. I knock again and this time he hears my quiet sniggers. He glares but nevertheless opens the balcony door for me.

"Hi," I say innocently.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he grits out. "How did you even get up here?"

"I climbed up," I say simply.

He leads me in and closes the door behind me. I sit on the bed.

"So," Marvel says, awkwardly trailing off at the end.

The tension in the room is unbearably thick and I fidget with my fingers. A week of preparing for an apology goes down the drain. In the silence, I notice the right side of his head is bandaged, a few bruises are next to his nose and a long scar runs down the side of his face. My doing. My hands are clammy and my heart rate fastens. What do I even say? I look up and he's about to talk. I cut him off.

"Look, I'm sorry," I blurt out.

"What?" The bottom of his lips quirk upwards. "I wasn't expecting that."

I scowl. "This is not funny."

"No, it's hilarious," he says.

I cross my arms. "Fine, you're not getting an apology."

He pauses. "I take it back."

I sigh and he sees my expression. "You don't need to apologise, Clo. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, I did!" I start to fire up. I didn't do anything wrong? I didn't do anything wrong? It's now that I remember why I was feeling so guilty in the first place. "I did everything wrong, Marvel. I'm really sorry I punched you, you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry that you got hit and took the blame. I'm sorry that I believed Lakyn and I'm sorry that I was an idiot. I'm really, really sorry. "

While I blabber on, the aftermath really starts to hit me. Flashes of the wedding come back to me. All I see in my head is the fight. Lakyn's fist colliding with Marvel's head. Marvel trying to fight back against three guys. My hand connecting with Marvel's bruised cheek. The faint blood stains on the ground.

On impulse, I reach over and touch Marvel's cheek. He looks up in surprise. I run my finger lightly across a scar. The cut is from the top of his left cheekbone down to about a centimetre away from his bottom lip. It's been a week, but the scar hasn't completely healed. He stifles a wince when I hit a rough spot and I pull my hand away as if his cheek burnt me.

My voice barely reaches a whisper. "Did I do that?"

He doesn't say anything.

I repeat harshly, "Did I do that?"

The silence continues.

"Marvel. Did I do that?"

Finally, he nods. I suck in a breath. I did that. Not Lakyn, but me. I did. I feel like I'm about to pass out from guilt. He doesn't deserve this; he doesn't.

"I'm so sorry, Marvel." This is probably the first time I know I truly mean it. Completely.

"You couldn't have done anything, Clo. Don't you get that? It's not your fault," he says firmly. It makes me feel even guiltier.

"Yes I could've!" I burst out. "I could've stopped Lakyn! I could've…"

"Speaking of the devil," he mutters.

"He's a bloody bastard," I say, moaning. Just the mention of his name causes me to clench my fists.

He looks at me questioningly. "Weren't you guys dating?"

"We were. Were being the key word."

"I'm sorry," Marvel says quietly. "I made that happen."

"No you didn't," I spit out. He is not taking any of the blame for this. I won't let him. "Lakyn's a jerk. I can't believe I even-"

He smiles, "Glad to know."

"I hit him too."

"You shouldn't have."

"He deserved it."

He shrugs, "You have a point."

Before I can stop myself, I find myself asking, "Did he really say… those things about me?"

Marvel gives me a look. "You know I wouldn't make that stuff up."

Now I feel even worse for bringing it up.

Suddenly, a voice calls out, "Marvel?"

Something pounds on the door and a voice calls out, "Marvel?"

Crap. His face floods with panic and without speaking, I literally dive under the bed frame. I crawl further in and slam my head against the structure. I bite my lip to stop me from crying out loud. Ow, it stings like crazy. Is there anything worse banging your head on that? Maybe, stubbing your toe, but still. I pull my foot under just in time and a head pops in the gap of the door.

"Marvel?" I thought I heard voices coming from here?" A man who I assume is his father walks inside and sits on the bed. The frame creaks and I swear the weight is going to break it, and my back.

"Voices?" Marvel laughs and gives his father a delusional look. "There's no one in here, Dad."

His stays silent for a while, probably giving him a suspicious look. There's nothing to find in the room, so he says, "Okay."

The door shuts behind him. Marvel waits for a few seconds before grabbing my arms and pulling me on. On the way—you guessed it—I bump my head on the frame again. I rub my head painfully. Really? Twice in a row?

"Are you okay?" He gently touches the top of my head, where it hit the bed structure.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I pull away and feel it myself. I cringe when I hit a sore spot—it's actually swelled up quite a bit now.

We stand there awkwardly and another wave of emotion hits me. Damn, Clove. When did you become so soft? For some strange reason, I find myself reaching out for Marvel. I circle my arms around his neck and I can feel his muscles tensing. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm about to let go when his arms wrap tightly around my waist and I lean in a bit, resting my head on the crook of his neck. Warmth spreads through my body and somehow, I feel safe. At that thought, heat creeps up my neck.

Clove.

Stop. Being. Stupid.

With that, I let go.

I shift the weight between both feet and say, "I should probably be going now. Don't want your dad to walk in. Again."

He smiles and walks me out to the balcony.

"You're not seriously climbing down there, are you? You can go out the back door, I'm sure Cook won't mind."

I shake my head. No point getting caught now. "Nah, it's fine."

He watches carefully as I climb over the railing, holding onto it for my dear life. I look under me and make a small leap to the wooden ledge. On the ground, I see that Cato's set up a folding camping chair and is drinking a bottle of apple juice and reading a book. I think I spy a pair of binoculars hastily hanging over the back of the chair. My eyes narrow.

He sees me and jumps up. I sit on the ledge, hoping it doesn't break and take a deep breath before jumping down on the solid ground. Cato steadies my when my feet slam against the hard-packed land. I never thought I'd be so glad to feel it again.

I look up again and wave goodbye to Marvel. He goes back inside and I turn to Cato. I grab the chair and hoist it into the boot of his car. I slide into the seat and he opens the door, binoculars in hand.

I look over at them suspiciously and he gives me a sheepish grin.

"Since when did you like hugs?"

It registers.

I lunge towards him. "Cato!"

A/N: Some Clove and Cato friendship for you! And of course, Clarvel. Aw, they're so cute. Did you like the chapter? Give me your thoughts!

Regarding a mention of hiatus in the last chapter, I've decided to change update times to a new chapter every two weeks instead of taking three weeks off at once. After two cycles of that, I'll most likely go back to normal, one update a week. Just a heads up, but from what I've planned, we're about halfway through. Because of the spaced out update times, I'll most likely be doing some rewrites of the first few chapters mainly because I'm not happy with grammar, description, pacing, etc. There will be no major changes. I might also start writing a new fanfic?

Please review, I'd love to hear from you all! :)