FUTILE DEVICES | clato

SIX

A/N: this chapter shows physical abuse towards the end, please be aware of that!!!!
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It turns out that weed and alcohol are not a good combination.

I realize that as I'm throwing up over the toilet, Cato standing awkwardly behind me.

As I go in for my second round of vomiting, Cato closes the bathroom door so nobody will see.

"You okay?" he asks cautiously.

I flash a thumbs up from my spot on the tiled floor.

Cato groans, sinking against wall and finally sliding down to a seated position on the floor.

Finally, after what seems like forever, I've thrown up everything in me.

I crawl over to the wall, resting my back against it and bringing my knees to my chest.

I stare at the ceiling, letting the yellow-ish light of the bulbs blind me until I look away. When I look back down, I feel eyes on me.

I turn my head to see Cato, his blue eyes boring into mine.

And in that moment, I realize something.

Cato is lonely. More lonely than he lets other people see, especially me. More lonely than he probably even realizes. But I know now. He has no brother, no best friend that I've ever heard of. And now no girlfriend.

He has his friends at the training center, but I can see right through him. He's a loner. He's like me.

Why else would he be sitting in the bathroom with me while I puke, when instead he could be partying with these people.

Cato is exactly like me. And in this moment, I let myself accept him.

"What?" Cato asks me, a curious look on his face.

My mind is a mess right now, between being high and my newfound idea of Cato.

There's one thought, though, that's clear to me: don't yell at him.

As much as I would've wanted to five minutes ago.

I realize I've been staring at him after he says my name.

I blink rapidly, trying to focus. "Nothing."

Cato heaves a sigh, rubbing his forehead.

"Do you just wanna go home?" he sounds genuinely hurt. I kind of feel bad.

"Not home," I tell him. "We can leave if you want, but I'm not going home."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

It's not time for Cato to find out about all the problems with going home.

"Okay," he says slowly. "We could go to my house."

I'm hesitant about it, as the size of his house kind of scares me, but I'd rather be there than stuck inside my room, hiding from my dad.

So I say yes.

It's started to rain by the time Cato and I get outside, so we end up sprinting down the streets until we reach the covered porch of his house.

By the time I'm out of the rain, I'm laughing. Actually laughing. Cato, next to me, has a smile on his face.

I would've never seen this coming.

This time, it's Cato staring when I look over.

"What?" I ask.

Cato looks at me thoughtfully.

"You know, you're not that bad, Clover," he smirks, lightly pushing me before opening the door.