Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

 Clove stands beside me, her head held high with pride as President Snow places the coveted crown upon her brow. He then places its twin on mine.

We stand there side by side, Clove and I, as the crowd goes wild. They all cheer for us, scream our name. The Games are over, and we've won. Just as we knew we would. We're going home. The roar of the crowd does not abate, but Clove turns to me, her eyes distant. I feel her tug gently at my hand, and she leads me off the large stage, away from the loud cheers and the blinding lights. Our movements are slow, as if we're moving through syrup. But we finally reach a door that leads to backstage.

I turn the handle, push the door open, and step into an elaborately decorated hall. Music fills the air and a boldly dressed couples twirls by us. I glance over at Clove to find that she has moved on already. She now stands over by the large buffet of food. I begin to make my way to her, but am immediately apprehended by a small gaggle of girls, all desperate for my attention. I shove past them roughly, and continue to force my way through the crowd. Even this brief separation from Clove makes me anxious, though I can't quite place why.

When I finally reach her, I slip one arm around her waist and open my mouth to speak to her. Words come out, but I don't know what they are. My own voice sounds muffled, as if I'm hearing it through a wall of water.

Clove looks up at me, and again her eyes are distant. I have the urge to draw her closer to me, force her to look at me like I'm really here, and so I lead her out onto the dance floor.

We twirl in time with the music, imitating the other, Capitol-styled people around us. Clove's hair isn't pulled up anymore, and it cascades gracefully down to her waist. As we dance, it swirls out around her in beautiful, dark chocolate waves.

I think I hear someone call my name, and I glance up. As soon as I do, I regret it, and my eyes immediately fly back down to Clove. I can't let her disappear again.

She hasn't.

But her dress has.

What was formerly a relatively simple, purple number has transformed into an elegant, flowing, white wedding dress – complete with lace and an insanely long train. Her hair is still loose, but her victor's crown has been replaced by an elegant tiara.

I smile down at her, and she returns the smile. But her eyes are still distant. I frown slightly at this, and then glance up again as my name is called.

Even as I'm doing so, the scene changes again, and I'm beside the river. Our river. The water gurgles and flows by in the steady manner of spring. Flowers cover the ground, and sunlight dances through the leaves of the large, overhanging tree.

Clove is no longer securely in my arms, and I look about frantically, trying to find her. Just as I'm beginning to panic, she steps out from behind the tall oak tree. I breath a quiet sigh of relief as she appears, and I begin to walk over to her.

She doesn't acknowledge my presence, just sits down in the grass and begins to pick the flowers at her feet. She takes the blossom, plucks all its pedals off – one by one – and the tears the stem into tiny little pieces. She repeats this process over and over again as she stares out at the water.

My eyes aren't on the water at all; they're on Clove. She's wearing a different dress now, a simple, white frock that falls to her knees and hangs onto her shoulders by two loose sleeves that drape loosely across her arms, revealing most of her collar bone. It looks as though it would rip completely in two under the smallest persuasion.

The white of the dress is a beautiful contrast to Clove's hair, which the wind has begun to blow across her face. I grab a stray strand and tuck it gently behind her ear, finally earning her attention. She looks at me with distant, unreadable eyes.