Careers Have Feelings Too | CLATO | GLARVEL |

Chapter 7

A/N: helloooo guys, just me again saying don't worry, nothing about the storyline/characterisation has changed, and I've made sure I've kept in some of the more iconic lines/phrases/bits that you guys seem to love in the comments. It's basically just the same stuff rewritten slightly, and it needs it, reading some this has made me cringe SO HARD in some places. 

Do you know what I wanna know? Someone leave a comment if you're here back on the hunger games obsession after years gone by because of all those hunger games tiktoks. I know I am...

MARVEL POV

It's evaluation day. The arena is merely a matter of days away, and yet this morning Cato is striding towards me with his chest puffed outwards like a lion and a grin on his face like a Cheshire Cat. 

"What's up? You look cheery," I smirk at him. Clove is a few meters behind, and has gone to stand with District Four and Glimmer. Cato slaps me on the shoulder.

"Clove is a great kisser," he says.

I turn to him with my eyebrows raised, and realise he isn't joking. 

"Wow. Well done. I honestly never thought you'd get anywhere." I laugh. 

"Man, neither did I. It happened pretty much out of nowhere."

"Is it going to happen again?" I ask, my eyes wandering to the other tributes in the room. Sometimes I catch myself sizing them up subconsciously, no matter what setting we're in. 

Cato shrugs. "I dunno. It's so much effort, having to make a move, so I guess I will if I feel like it." 

There it is again, the typical Career's mentality. It's almost like Cato was type-casted for the role. "She's a lucky girl then. If you can be bothered." 

He lets out a small snigger, but I don't think he found it overly funny. Sometimes I wonder whether Cato's sense of humour could really do with some polishing. I bet Glimmer thinks the same. 

It looks like everybody is here. It must almost be my turn. 

"How about Glimmer? She still not speaking to you?" Cato asks with a softer tone. 

As he says her name I turn my head, and can see her green eyes shining from across the room. I quickly avert my gaze, and out of the corner of my eye I see her do the same. She can't even bear to look at me. 

"No, of course she isn't." 

"She didn't volunteer, did she?" 

I don't want to think about it. The memory of that moment is forever burnt into my brain. The day was bleak and cloudy, District One filled with the same ominous buzz of quiet anticipation that always falls over us every Reaping. It had been days since I had spoken to Glimmer, and although I could spot her in the crowd, I was trying to distract myself. 

The bell began to toll. People were taking their seats, and I joined the group of trainees. 

The group was growing smaller by the year. It was no secret that the Training Academy was struggling. In the beginning, the Victor of the Hunger Games had been a fantastical position filled with riches and luxury and everything one ever wanted. That was the dream people have been holding onto for decades, decades spent grasping onto straws and pretending it makes up for the killing. 

But, as I remember my Mother telling me, in recent years, people have begun to sober up. We have plenty of Victors in the limelight to watch battle through years after years of purposelessness and empty power. They aren't gods anymore, and they aren't even celebrities. They are people who have done terrible things. And now, even in Career districts, the business is starting to die away. Nobody wants to dedicate their life to a cause that is guaranteed to turn you into an empty shell of the person you used to be. Of course the Capitol are doing everything they can to keep up the Career tradition, shelling out extra money for the Academies, scholarships, propaganda, whatever they can conjure up. But that's all it is: a conjuring, a shroud over reality.