Gladiators -- Clato

-It's Always Been You-

"Go away," I snap. My voice cracks for a moment and I immediately want to scream.

"I was being a dick," He mutters. He doesn't apologize. Cato Hadley doesn't apologize.

"Yeah, you were," I say harshly.

He risks taking a few tentative steps my way. I allow him, and finally meet his gaze. I stare at him, jaw set in a hard line.

He really is beautiful. Like a vengeful angel. With his halo of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, I find myself both terrified and in awe of him.

"Well?" I huff. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

Oh, no. This is exactly what we learned not to do. Talk. I do not like the slight hopeful note in his voice, lacking all hostility. But something in me wants him here. If not for just a little while. I don't want to be alone.

I give a slight nod, letting him in. I don't look at him, only turn my head away as he sits down next to me. I scoot a couple inches away.

With a start, I realize i'm still in my underwear. Of course, this probably doesn't matter too much. Cato is used to seeing undressed girls. Still, I feel self-conscious and get up, rummaging around the drawer to find an oversized shirt. I put it on and sit back down bashfully on the bed.

I'm relieved when Cato doesn't say anything. Instead he just begins talking.

"Do you remember when we went Night Hunting?" he asks.

"Yeah. I almost died."

He laughs unexpectedly. Good to know my near-death experience is so funny to him. "Yeah, I know. I brought it up because I knew you'd say that."

"Oh yeah?" I ask sourly. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to tell you how...worried I was about you," He says, playfulness gone from his voice. "It was like a weird moment. Because I was genuinely terrified to lose you."

At this, I whip my head around to face him. He's looking at me intently, and I see something in his eyes that I haven't seen before. Kindness. Humanity. Care. I wonder if any soul has ever seen these emotions in Cato's eyes.

"What?" Is the only word I manage to say. Cato doesn't laugh, just smiles.

"What?" He mocks me.

"We barely ever talked. I mean, we hated each other. Night Hunting, that was..." I pause. "It was a truce."

I remember it clearly. That day at the Academy, Cato had been watching me throw knives. I was annoyed that he was watching me and screamed at him to go away. But he continued to stare.

After lessons he had come up to me, sword swinging at his side, smug smile on his face. "What's up?" he had asked.

"Fuck off, Cato," I hissed.

"Feisty. Hey, Clove, why don't we make use of that energy? Go Night Hunting?" he asked.

Night Hunting. A District 2 Academy tradition. I knew of other people doing it, but never myself. And now Cato was asking me to go with him.

So I agreed. We met outside the Academy at midnight and followed the trolly tracks up to the quarries. There would usually be a couple drunks or morphling addicts crawling around here late at night. Perfect prey.

Cato spotted one, sprawled beside a fire surrounded by empty beer bottles. "Target?" he has asked.

I nodded. And so we attacked.

Turned out the guy was a better fighter than we had taken him for. He caught Cato in the leg with his knife and before I knew it he stuck me right in the side. Blood poured out of the wound like a waterfall. Seeing this, Cato had stopped toying with him and brought his sword down on the man's head without hesitation, just in time to see me crumple to the ground.

"Clove? Clove?" I heard him say as my eyelids fluttered closed.

"Why did we hate each other?" he asks, breaking me out of the memory.

I remember all the snide comments, the cruel attacks, the rumors, the screaming and fighting and blood drawn on foam floors. The taunting, the bullying. I remember the jealousy and the rage. We had every reason to hate each other, and he knows that.
"You know," I say.

"Yeah," he sighs. "But I don't know. That night when you were bleeding out on the ground, I think..." He bites his lip, and I watch him. "I think I realized I don't hate you."

I open my mouth, not knowing what to say. Cato's icy eyes bore into mine, impoloring me to say something.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I whisper.

"Because we don't have much time left," He murmurs. "And I wanted you to know. I don't want to be enemies with you to the end. If..."

I don't even realize his hand is holding mine until I look down. I want to jump away, wrench my hand from his grasp, but I can't. All I can do is look up into those blue eyes and keep myself from screaming.

"If I could choose one person I wanted by my side in these games, it would be you," He murmurs. "Clove, it's always been you."

I almost choke as the words leave his mouth. God, what is going on? Is this just another tactic by Cato? Earn my trust and then stab me in the back? Or is he being genuine?

"Why?" I manage.

"Because you're strong. You're smart, you're the best knife thrower in the Academy. You've got that attitude that scares people. It doesn't scare me," He adds with a smile. "I know you want to win it. I do too. So in the end, it'll be one of us. And If it isn't me, I want it to be you."

"Cato..." I look up at him. "You know we- I-"

Before I can say anything, his lips are on mine. For a moment I want to shrink back, to leap away and claw at him. Too many...terrible memories. But then I feel the warmth in his kiss, the softness of it. Not threatening. Not evil. Just Cato.

So I kiss him back. And, although I hate to admit it, It's amazing.

When we break apart, we both look at each other for a moment and laugh. We laugh. Because it's just so damn ridiculous.

"I've always wanted to do that," he says.

"Liar." I shake my head and smile.

"Not lying," he whispers, and pulls me back in for another kiss.