Born to Die (Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 8

The sun streamed through the large glass windows and cast layers of light across the blankets. I felt the warm sunlight splash across my face, forcing my eyes open. I squinted in the morning brightness, before throwing a pillow over my head. Cato still held my arm between his hands, that were currently bruised and cut from all the previous training that week. I turned to face him, and let out a tired sigh. His eyes were still closed, but I could tell he wasn't sleeping. His blond hair spiked out at awkward angles, but it still managed to look perfect.

"Clove, why are you staring at me?" He said a smile tugging at his sleepy lips.

"I want to remember what you look like," I joked.

"Oh right, of course," he said playing along. Today was reaping day, more importantly the day Cato volunteered. Yesterday, he had placed first of the boys in his class which was expected, and was rewarded with the chance to volunteer. Last night, Cato's parents threw an amazing party, that lasted through the night. I had been too tired to go home, so we crashed on his massive bed.

This could be our last day together.

"Are you nervous?" I asked, as I sat up in bed. I knew I certainly was, but I could never tell him that. I couldn't tell him that a part of me feared he wouldn't come home. It would only lower his self esteem.

"What do I have to be worried about?" he asked, finally opening his eyes.

I shrugged, and glanced at the clock by the bedside.

"Seven more hours until the reaping," I announced with a groan.

"Oh no, we'll be late." He cried sarcastically.

I chuckled quietly and closed my eyes, wishing I could just sleep through the reaping.

"I'm not kidding," he said seriously, "Breakfast is probably getting cold."

I laughed and slide under the warm covers again, until we were face to face. I reached my hand across to trace my finger over his scar. My name was still faintly visible on the side of his neck, and it had always made me uncomfortable. He grabbed my hand it pressed it to his cheek instead. I mouthed a silent sorry, and awkwardly bit at my lip.

"Clove, really it doesn't matter, I kind of like it," he said smiling. I rolled my eyes but was thankful for his words. "Now come on, let's go," he whispered.

"Just a few more minutes," I muttered and threw my head deep under the blankets. I wasn't particularly tired, but the afternoon to come was filling me with a feeling of anxiety, and getting up meant the reaping was soon. I couldn't ignore the fact that it was today, but I could do a great deal of pretending.

Cato climbed out of bed, still in his jeans and t-shirt from last night, and yanked the blankets off the bed. "Come on!" he shouted with a laugh.

I swore under my breath and slide off the bed. The breakfast did smell good, as always, which was probably the only thing keeping me from going back to bed.

After a delicious meal of scrambled eggs, ham, and fried potatoes, Cato and I headed to the town square. His mother made him go out and buy something especially nice for this reaping, since it was his last. I agreed to go with, and buy myself something nice as well. The streets were crowed as they usually were on reaping day. People hustled down the roads with bags filled of clothing and fancy meals, party decorations, and sweets. We weaved through the crowds of people and headed into a small clothing shop, overflowing with mothers and their children. We passed a a stressed mom trying to get her child into a nice reaping dress, and I instantly wondered why anyone would want kids. I reached for Cato's hand to avoid getting separated as we made it to the back of the shop.