Stupid Cupid: A Modern Clato Fanfiction [Completed]

Chapter 35

Clove stared at the blank canvas in front of her. There were so many things she could have possibly done. So many ways to express what she felt inside. Yet nothing at all was coming to her mind. 

The girl looked around the classroom and at her other peers. Each and every one of them were hard at work on their projects. Well, except herself and one more person. Cato was across the room sitting on one of the stools. He too stared at the blank canvas in front of him, just sitting there. 

"Glad to see I'm no the only one who doesn't know what to do..." she muttered to herself, reverting her gaze back to her own things. She could have done painted a landscape, or a portrait of one of her friends. But that would be the typical, ordinary thing to do. No, Cinna expected so much more out of her.  He wanted to see her show emotion. 

Well, how could she when she felt nothing?

Clove's head snapped up when she heard her name. It was oddly enough with Cato's. "Cato, Clove," Cinna said, causing both of the teens to perk up. "Come up by my desk please." They cast each other glances, and Clove was the first to look away. She couldn't stand to look at him for more than thirty seconds. 

"I can't help but notice," Cinna told them when they were in front of his desk. "That the two of you are struggling with this assignment." Cato sighed and scratched the back of his neck. Clove couldn't help but notice this nervous habit of his. "I'm sorry," Cato said. "It's just, well, I don't know. That's the problem. I have absolutely no ideas on what to do." 

"Me too," Clove added. Cato's head turned towards her, and she bit her lip. "I'm stuck when it comes to ideas. I want to do something that will really impress you, but I'm afraid I'm coming up short." 

Cinna nodded, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. "I see," Cinna said. "The two of you are amazing artists. You just don't know how to express emotion. Well, I cannot help but notice the wedge between the two of you."

Clove sighed, folding her arms over her chest. She felt sick to her stomach that not only the students knew about her personal life, but the teachers as well. No matter what she did, she couldn't seem to escape the heartbreaking truth. 

"You should both use this situation to your advantages." 

"Excuse me?" Clove snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Clove," Cato said, trying to sooth her. "No, Cato," Clove said sharply, her voice dripping with venom. "How am I supposed to use this to my advantage? What is the good in all of this? Cato hurt me for what? So he could have his own happiness. Well, that's great for him, but I'm not turning this into something it's not. I'm hurt, and I don't care what anyone else says or thinks about it." 

"Bingo!" he teacher exclaimed, much to her amazement. "Clove, very good! Now go use that anger and frustration and put it into your work!" The girl stomped away, leaving the blonde boy standing there. Cato had to admit that he was stunned. 

"I think I know exactly what I am going to do now." 

***

Clove stayed after school that afternoon to work on her project. And apparently, she wasn't the only one who had that idea. Cato and Clove were both in the art room, an awkward silence hanging between them. Cato was the one to finally break it. 

"So..." he trailed off. 

"So..." Clove said, her gaze remaining on her painting. 

"Look, Clove," Cato said, walking towards her. "I'm sorry." 

Clove scoffed in response, setting one of the many paintbrushes by her down. "It's fine," she said. "You have Glimmer now." The girl began furiously organizing her things. "Clove," Cato pressed on, while she just shook her head and glared downwards. She refused to look at him. 

"Clove, stop," he insisted. "Cato, leave me alone," she hissed. "Look at me, Clove," came his pleading reply. He grabbed her wrist, and she winced. Cato noticed this, and he very slowly pulled up Clove's shirt sleeve. He gasped, his eyes shooting wide. 

"Clove, what is this?" he asked, his finger trailing over her scars. "Leave me alone," she said sharply, pulling her arm away. She tugged her sleeve down, and glared at him. "Just leave me alone Cato. Stop acting like you care, because we both know that you don't. You can take your damn lies and go screw your girlfriend from Hell. See if I care." 

"Clove," he said sternly. "If you're hurting yourself-" Clove cut him off. "What? Like you did? Just forget about it. Like you said, you changed. And you like this new you." 

Cato sighed in frustration. "Why are you doing this?" he nearly yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "Me?" she yelled back, jabbing a finger at him. "How about you? What made you so much better than the rest of us that you had to abandon us and just forget about everything we had?" 

"Because I-" 

"Save it," she snarled. Clove rolled her eyes, and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Now, if you would excuse me. A snow storm is supposed to hit and I don't want to be walking home when it does." On that note, she exited the room. 

Cato sighed for the umpteenth time, hands falling to his sides, limp. "Because I love you," he whispered, before storming back to his own painting. 

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, so Happy Thanksgiving!