A Whole New Game: A Hunger Games Story

Chapter 30: All That Matters

Clove

Snow falls to the floor, dead, my gun still unfired in his hand.

"Clove!"

I barely have time to turn around before Marvel's massive arms are thrust around me, the lanky boy sinking to his knees and wincing, the gun in his hand clattering to the floor. He smells like ash and gunpowder.

"Clove? My God, Clove are you okay? Did he hurt you?" He grabs my head in his hands, our faces only inches apart. A large gash has made it's home upon his forehead, his left arm is a stain of blood. "Clove answer me. Please! Clove? Come on, please answer me. Tell me you're okay. Just say something."

I make some noise, whether it's a hack or a whimper or a wail I can't tell, but whatever it is, it's enough to nullify Marvel's fears, and he swallows me in his arms. "Clove, my God, I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I tired to get here as fast as I could. Some little kid told me he was with you and that you had to do something important, but he didn't tell me where you were. I figured you might go looking for Snow, and Finnick's tracker said you were here...I'm so sorry, Clove. God, I'm so sorry."

I tremble, my body convulsing in his hold. I am just able to see over his shoulder, Snow's body lying face-down a few feet away in a small pool of blood that seeps into the shadows around him. Unmoving. Unbreathing. For the first time his chest is as void of life as his unforgiving eyes.

He shot him. Marvel shot him. Marvel killed him.

I sob so hard it's a scream. I bury my head in his shoulder, my fingers curling hard around the sweat-soaked, torn fabric of his shirt. Tears trickle down his neck, though it's hard to tell whether they are his or mine. I inhale the crisp scent of burned nylon and blood that is my lanky savior. He's shaking, or I'm shaking; I can't tell the difference. We are one. It must be hours, or seconds. I wouldn't know. It doesn't matter. It's just me and him, and the world spiraling around us as the walls of reality come crashing down. And it's beautiful. We sit in Snow's pooling blood, the dying explosions outside turning the shadows on the white roses into an orange film of dust, and it's so horrendously beautiful.

And the words are spilling out of my mouth.

"Iloveyou."

"...What?"

"...I love you." I pull back, my eyes meeting his, inhaling deeply. This is that moment. That moment I thought I might never have. There's no holding it back now. "I love you. I love you. Goddammit, I love you."

His eyes go wide, his breath stops altogether, and I swear I can hear his heart pounding through his chest, screaming against his ribcage like a prisoner trying to escape. Before he can respond, I sit up on my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kiss him. I really, for the first time, kiss him, by my own initiation. And it is so. Breathtakingly. Wonderful.

He makes a sort of surprised sound in his throat, and cranes his head up to to better reach mine. His arms wrap around my waist, and I tangle my fingers through that cinnamon hair, forcing every inch of my body to his in hopes that the two of us might fuse together. Perhaps it's a bit more sensual than I would regularly be comfortable with, but there is too much emotion for my heart to listen. I have never been happier, I have never been sadder, I have never been more anxious. I need him to feel it as I do, and the only way to show him is through the burn as skin and lips mesh together. I feel as though I've been stunned, electrically shocked as the nerves in my body rivet and jump with excitement as his lips try desperately to hold on to mine. In this moment, not a force in the world could tear us. We are one. We are inseparable. We are all that matters.