Clove
I don't know why Cato is acting so crazy and it scares me. He insisted he stay in my room to watch over me, so I let him. We've turned the lights on and Cato is pacing near the door, fidgeting and muttering under his breath. I lay in bed under the blankets, but it's not like I'm going to fall back to sleep now. Besides, it's almost morning.
"Cato, you're scaring me." I say slowly. He turns for a moment, then goes back to pacing. After a while I speak up again. "Cato! What is up with you?!"
"You died!!" He shouts, he rushes towards me so quickly and suddenly that I jump back. He looks hurt by this, and sits at my feet, staring at the lump they make in the blankets. "I watched you die. And... I couldn't save you. I'm not going to let that happen again." He seems to have calmed down now.
I shift in bed, crawling towards him and wrapping my arms around him from behind. I rest my chin on his shoulder and try to think of something to say. I settle on the worst possible thing.
"Only one of us can win. And it's not me. But it's not your fault. It's...it's my fault, because... I let myself get too close to you... And... I think..." I stop talking. I have to. My voice is getting all weird and my throat feels like it's closing up. I pull myself away from Cato and stare at my hands. "Maybe this would be easier if we just... Pretended we didn't know each other."
"Clove..." Cato tries to take my hand but I pull away. I hate to do this, but it's necessary. It will make everything easier. "Clove, this-"
"It would be easier," I cut him off. "If we didn't know each other."
"I can't just pretend I never knew you! You're my best friend! You're the only person I really love in this stupid world! I need you! You said you'd never leave..."
I try to keep my composure, but I can't. This is just too hard.
"You're making this worse."
"You said you'd never-"
"I have to, Cato!"
"No you don't. You're the one who's gonna win, Clove. It's always been you."
"It's always been you!"
"I'm not gonna let you die, damn it!"
"And neither am I! So I guess we're screwed."
This leaves us in an uncomfortable silence. Cato keeps looking like he wants to argue more, but stays silent. I pop my knuckles nervously. I need to say something. Something that lets us both win. Or, both die. Maybe that's it. Maybe if we can't live without each other, the answer is to both die. Then we'll never have to leave each other.
"Well... I guess if we can't live without the other," I start to voice my plan. "We can die together."
"Together..." Cato grabs my hand, and this time I don't pull away. Because it feels so good to have something to hold on to. "Or not at all."
Suddenly we're a lot closer, and I don't know who caused it. His hands weave through my hair as mine travel over his bare chest to his shoulders, broad and strong from years of working to be able to protect himself from his father, and then to protect me as well. My hands reach his face just as his reach mine and I know I should pull away but I don't. I can't. I've been waiting for this; I don't know how long, but it doesn't matter because it's here now. Maybe I'm not thinking straight. I know this will make the next few weeks so much harder, but I can't stop now. Now our faces are mere inches apart, and once again I don't know which of us caused it. I close my eyes, and a single tear slips out. I can't do this.
Cato
"Together... Or not at all," I say. I grab Clove's hand and she doesn't pull away like last time. I start to move closer, and I think she does too. Her hands are moving over my upper body, exploring different parts of me. My hands find my way to her hair, as they often do, then to her face. An array of different emotions flash across her face: fear, sadness, longing, pain, and I know my face must look the same. Her hands are on my face too, and soon we must make a decision.
I don't know what I'm doing, or what to do. Clove's right. This will only make everything worse. But I want it so bad. I want to hold her, and I want to kiss her. I feel her breath on my face, our lips almost close enough to touch, then I feel Clove's hands on my chest, stopping me from moving closer. I hate it, but am also secretly grateful.
"I'm sorry," I say. I am making this worse. "You're right. We should..." I can't bear to actually say it. I don't think I have to though.
"It's okay... I wanted it too... I really did." Her eyes look sad.
"Well, I wonder if there's another option," I say. "This may be the last week of our lives, so how about we keep... living. I mean, at least until the arena. Then we can use your plan, and separate."
It seems like she's just had a revelation. She hadn't thought of this. Neither of us had. The words just kind of spilled from my mouth without much conscious thought. She nods, as if to say, "Okay, I guess we might as well make the most of the time we have left."
It's strange. We all think time is infinite. And we all think we have enough of it. That is, until we don't. We don't realize how little time we have until it's already too late. And we don't realize the end is near until it's too close to make any difference. Time isn't infinite. There was a point where time began, and there is a point where it will end. This leaves just one question; how much time do we have left?

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the girl who played with knives || clato ✔️
FanfictionWinner of The Bibliophile Awards 2017 (Adventure) - 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...