The Short One and the Blond One (A Clato Story)

Um I wrote this ages ago, I think ti's terrible but I might as well unleash it on the world. So just rate and comment PLEASE XD

Chapter 1

The First Chapter....

Cato's Point of View
It was half past two o'clock in the morning, and for some reason, I couldn't sleep. Actually, I knew the reason. It was a combination of many things, I suppose. Firstly, the nightmares; I had been having horrific, detailed, torturous nightmares every night since I won the Games six months ago. I would wake up to find myself on the floor of my room, fallen out of my bed, sweating and crying like a baby. It was for that reason that I never went to sleep with a girl beside me. I didn't want anyone to see me like that. And the second reason for my sleeplessness was Clove.
Perhaps it was best that I didn’t think about her, but I couldn't get her out of my head. Her fierce, passionate glare - with surprisingly beautiful eyes. The way she'd look at me, her face unreadable. The deadly smile on her face as she killed. Yes; no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get her out of my head.
I wouldn't mind if it was any other girl, but with Clove, there's some sort of aura around her that's built to warn guys away. She's dangerous, unsafe. You don't mess with Clove, because that's playing with fire. And yet somehow she was all I thought about.
I lay awake that night, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of the train wagon. Since we'd already won the Games six months ago, it was time for our Victory Tour. Clove and I, the Victors of the last Games, would be travelling around Panem and basically showing off our victory to everyone. Don't get me wrong, I like showing off as much as the next guy (...probably a lot more). It was just the fact that I'd be with Clove again that messed everything up.
She was already on the train, although I hadn't seen her yet. She was always quiet, stealthy, and good at avoiding people. It was weird that she seemed to be avoiding me so far, but she'd have to talk to me tomorrow at breakfast. The thought of her being in the next carriage, so close to me, sent a shiver down my spine.
I dreamt of Clove that night.

Clove's POV
I didn't even bother turning off the light in my carriage. I didn't feel like sleeping, and I certainly didn't like the dark any more. Instead, I sat on the edge of the double bed and turned on my computer. It was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, and thinner than a layer of skin, but I pulled at it with the tips of my fingers and enlarged it. Soon, the screen stretched out as far as my arms would go.
My news feed was lighting up with new stories about Panem's celebrities. I scrolled down through the pointless who-wore-what sections, and found the newest Cato stories. I sighed as I looked at the pictures of him, posing beside countless fangirls. He had once been my friend, but I could hardly bear to look at him now. He reminded me too much of the Games, of what I had done and who I had become. I avoided him as much as possible - though that was going to be difficult from now on.
Sighing, I logged into my message account. I had lots of fan-mail, from stupid Capitol guys, mostly. I also had a message from my big sister, whom I never saw and never bothered to contact. We had never gotten on, even as little kids. In fact, the message was just a request for money. I deleted it.
And finally was a message from my Mentor from the Games, Enobaria.

Clove, early breakfast tomorrow. We need to discuss strategies. Try to treat Cato with a bit more respect. We want you two to look like best friends, so you better patch things up, even if you cannot stand him.

I sighed to myself as I read it. Despite her intelligence, I sometimes suspected that Enobaria had the people skills of a turnip. It wasn’t that I disliked Cato; we’d never been best friends, but he was a nice guy once he was done posing. It was just that he was the only person who really understood what I had been through. That kind of scared me; he'd seen how brutal I am. He knew me, better than anyone else did, because he had seen what I was like in the Games. Sure, the cameras show it all, but nobody gets it unless they have really been there.
But yes, Enobaria was right. I'd have to be nice to Cato.

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