Cato stared boringly into Clove’s eyes throughout their dinner as her voice was muffled by the sounds of clanging cutlery and wine glasses meeting the table. He had only had a sip of his wine, as he didn’t want to get too tipsy because he was going to sneak into the training centre for more practice before tomorrow.
“I love you, Cato,” she smiled lovingly and he didn’t doubt what she said for a second, but he really didn’t feel the way that she did. It was nice to have her there, and throughout the whole experience leading up to the games so far it was comforting to have the familiarity of her voice and her touch, but he thought of her as nothing more than a friend, and for this he truly did feel bad.
“I-I’m sorry,” Cato’s eyes fell to the ground as the noise of his chair sliding away from the table cut the silence he had just formed. Tears started to form in Clove’s eyes, moist like the cut he had just formed in her heart.
‘You don’t love me?” she asked, obviously confused.
“I love you more than I can put into words, Clove…” a slight pause. Clove’s omnipresent air of confidence faltered, she knew there was a ‘but’, maybe even before Cato did, “But as a friend, a very good one at that, but just a friend.”
A defeated sigh escaped Cato as he dared to look her in the eyes, and instead of hurt, he saw blind fury. He now stood up on his chair, and went to turn away before Clove’s high pitched shriek cut the air.
“DON’T YOU DARE COME BACK CATO HADLEY, DON’T YOU GET MY HOPES UP AGAIN AND DON’T YOU DARE SHOW YOUR BEAUTIFUL FACE TO ME BEFORE I’M ALLOWED TO SINK A KNIFE INTO IT! LEAVE!”
Cato hurried out of the room, looking down as he went. He felt bad, but he felt oh so relieved. He still knew though, he had the thought lingering at the back of his mind, that the worst was yet to come.
Cato did as he was told and left. He walked straight out into the small elevator room on their floor of the building, called the elevator and stepped in. He pressed the button for the training centre and he watched the doors closed. He felt himself moving fast, and in less than 3 seconds, the doors were open to the underground training centre. He stepped out, loosening his tie and undoing the button of his collar on his way towards the swords. He looked around and saw no one else down there and he heard no footsteps, but he had a feeling that he was being watched. Why should he be worried? He always felt that way. He loosened up his arms and picked up a sword. He looked around, there wasn’t much targets left, just a few mannequins. He swung it hard at one of the mannequins and its head came clean off its shoulders. It landed on the floor with a satisfying clunk. It bounced a little before it started to roll, but in between those bounces he swore he heard footsteps. He turned around and he was staring straight at the male tribute from district 1. They’d sat together at lunch but never really talked. But Cato remembered his name; Marvel.
“You look just as miserable as I feel, Cato,” Marvel laughed sarcastically, a bottle of clear alcohol in his hand.
Cato’s eyes went straight to the bottle.
“Oh no. It’s not mine. Glim’s actually. Turns out we have quite different ways of relieving stressed. Hers is getting drunk, and mine, well mine is what you’re doing. But I prefer spears,” Marvel’s eyes looked cold. Cato could tell he was upset. Cato actually agreed with what he was saying.
Marvel seemed very talkative, “I guess you don’t want me here. You know, seeing your strengths before the games and what not.” Marvel sat down at the chair he normally sat in when lunch was served.
It was Cato’s turn to talk now, “I don’t mind. I think we’re both above that to be honest. All we’re here to do is blow off some steam.
Marvel nodded as he placed the bottle of Vodka on the table. Cato felt nervous around Marvel but he couldn’t tell why. He just kept staring at his eyes, but for once he didn’t feel threatened. He actually felt welcomed.
“I’m assuming you didn’t bring glasses,” Cato said.
Marvel shook his head. Cato took the lid off the bottle and he took a sip and made a gesture to Marvel asking if he wanted some. Marvel shrugged and Cato passed him the bottle. Marvel took a sip and Cato watched, feeling warm in side and couldn’t help but stare.
Cato felt dizzy. The remaining three quarters of the bottle as gone. Shared between the two careers.
“You know, before I came down here I made the biggest mistake of what was left of my short life. I told Clove that I didn’t love her.”
“Do you love her, Cato?” Marvel was a quiet, sad drunk.
“In ways she doesn’t understand, Marvel.”
“I understand. Do you love me, Cato?”
Cato looked shocked. Was he that drunk that he was hallucinating? Did alcohol even have that effect?
“I mean, I’m sorry. It’s just that you know, I’ve noticed you staring at me. I’m actually glad you haven’t noticed me staring.”
Cato felt confused and he instantly turned shy. Marvel had noticed. Cato couldn’t think. Was he staring because he liked Marvel? It wasn’t impossible. He had had these feelings about other boys before, back in 2. He felt the answer slip out of his mouth before he heard it, “No. I-I’m not sure. I just. I don’t know you. But I feel like I want to.”
Marvel seemed a little hurt, “At least you notice me I suppose. One of the only few people. But you know what? I think I like you Cato. I know I do. And I know it even more because now I know I’ve seen all of you. I’ve seen you hurt, and that’s a rare thing for a career to show. I’ve only just met you but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” He stood up and picked up a spear, he threw it at he mannequin without a head. It landed straight into where its heart should be. He screamed as he released it, also releasing some emotion. He turned to walk back over to the table where he was sitting next to Cato not a moment ago. Cato was gone, and the elevator doors had just finished closing. Marvel grabbed the bottle off the table, had the last few sips, and fell to the floor crying.
Cato arrived back at the district 2 floor. He felt so confused. Why were his feelings for a stranger so strong? But still, the more he thought about the days to come, the more his feeling about Clove came through. He felt the same for her as he did for him, and one he had known for his whole life, one he had really only just properly met. His head swam as he stormed into the apartment. Clove got up off the couch and called his name. Cato didn’t notice. His vision was blurry both from alcohol and tears and he was feeling more and more dizzy. He stormed straight to the kitchen, hardly noticing the sobs coming from his mouth. He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a glass, and he filled it with some more alcohol he found on the bench. He took the glass and he leaned against the wall. He could hear Clove’s voice somewhere far off, it sounded like she was apologising. Cato fell over but he didn’t really notice; he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He hit the floor, and his glass smashed, lacerating his hand. Blood was everywhere. Cato heard Clove’s screams. He started crying even louder.
“I do love you,” he said, a pleading tone in his voice, but he wasn’t entirely sure who he was saying it to, as he finally passed out, he was a drunken crying mess, and there was blood everywhere, yet he was sure that the emotions he felt that night were stronger than anything he had felt in years.
And they were (mostly) for a stranger.
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