the girl who played with knives || clato ✔️

31

Cato

We've cried for a long time, just nestled into each other, feeling each other's presence.

I sniff violently and rub my tired eyes. I shudder a little and sit up. He did this for us. He did this for us. I'm so thankful and so scared too. Now there's a lot more pressure.

"Cato, we can go home," Clove whispers in the dark.

"Yeah," is all I can muster. Then, "what should we do?"

"I don't know... who's left? Other than us?" Clove asks.

"Lover Boy, Katniss, Thresh..."

"There's someone else..."

"Yeah, I don't know who."

There's another little silence and I have to resist the urge to kiss her again. When I whisper Clove's name she doesn't answer and I panic, thinking she's somehow dead.

But no, no she's breathing. I can feel her breath against my neck and face. She's just asleep. Okay, okay. Calm down.

I settle down a bit and fall asleep.

-

It's a dream of a memory. Our first night on the train. I stand up and walk away from the bed where Clove and I had lay.

"Don't go," She says urgently. I stare at her. She's really beautiful.

"I'm not."

I lean over and pick up one of the yellow flowers I used when I fixed her hair for the reaping. I twist it between my fingers for a minute, until Clove comes up behind me and reaches for it.

"That's what the water was for," Clove says. "I felt bad about throwing them away." I can tell she really does.

"Why? They're just flowers," I say. Clove hesitates a moment, and I think she might be mad at my dismissive comment, but then she says, "Because they were from you."

And suddenly I am more aware of how close we are at the moment. Clove's breath hot against my neck, our fingers brushing together, both still holding the flower. I am also suddenly aware of the fact that I want to be even closer. Then she pulls away and I let her and the flower go. I resist the urge to take her in my arms and hold on tight forever. Forever and ever.

She gathers the rest of the flowers and places them into the glass on her dresser one by one and this time, in my strange dream world, they sparkle a bit and cast yellow light over our faces. I approach her from behind and begin to stroke her hair, still damp from her shower. She has just placed the last flower in the glass when we start to move backward, onto the bed. I lean against the pillows cross legged, with Clove in my lap, and continue to run my fingers through her hair. This is something I do a lot, my fingers dancing through her hair making braids and other up dos. It keeps me calm, and let's me focus- gather my thoughts. I eventually let my hands drop, and Clove leans her head against my chest. I wrap my arms around her waist and touch my cheek to hers, wishing I never had to leave her. Clove Cray; the girl who played with knives until she could never miss her target. Clove Cray; the girl who worked her way into my heart until I realized I could never live without her.

-

I wake up and play with Clove's hair until she wakes up. It's barely bright out, little bits of dust dancing in the sunbeams. Everything looks... shiny. Almost like it's not even real. If only...

I can tell when Clove wakes just by the change of her breath. After a while she turns to look at me and our faces are just inches apart.

I kiss the tip of her nose and sit up.