A/N: This is a fanfiction alternating between Clove's real wedding, and a pretend wedding her group of friends played. It's kinda like a flashback. (Just wanted to clear that up!)
For you Tribs, 'cause isn't Cato and Clove your OTP?
-:-
Clove impatiently drummed her fingers against the folds of her flowing, white dress. She tried to shake of the apprehension and worry seeping into her thoughts and mind.
What if I miss the cue? What if I trip? Will I be happy? Omg, why am I marrying him? Why am I marrying? What if someone objects? What if. . .
Clove shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. I will not mess up. She comforted herself.
"Nervous?" Glimmer asked while she played with her blonde hair. "It's okay Clove, everything will be alright. But I can't believe you're getting married! And before me!"
Clove normally hated Glimmer's babble, but she couldn't help but let the useless words comfort her in a sense of security. Glimmer had always been her best friend, and she knew what Clove needed, sometimes even more than Clove herself.
"Damn it," Enobraia, dressed in her black bridesmaid dress, cursed. "Where's the groom?"
-:-
(20 long years ago)
Clove stood in the midst of the hallway, oblivious to the cake and drinks outside, but was captivated in the simple games her group of friends always played.
Wedding.
Such an odd game for these little ones. They didn't know of breakups or hatred or manipulation or sex, but they knew of love. The pure, untainted love of Disney fairytales or of their parents outside.
They knew that weddings or marriage was a symbol of love, and they liked pretending they were in love. They liked pretending they were walking down an aisle of an old, wooden church with stain glass letting streaks of colored light through. They liked pretending they were clothed in priceless, silk, pastel dresses - at their real wedding they were going to wear pastel - and was strolling along the petals.
Clove stood next to Annie, who was getting "married," and hooked her arm around the pale girl's as they descended down the steps of Annie's living room.
Glimmer stood on the couch and yelled in a deep, loud voice, "Now let us present the bride Annie Cresta who shall be married to Finnick Odair."
Annie could barely hide her giggles behind the long, sleeves of her mother's stolen dress. Annie could barely image getting married to Finnick, her best friend. They were friends, nothing more. Or nothing more than eight-year-olds could think of.
-:-
Clove could spot Annie's bright, red hair through the crack of the mahogany doors of the chapel. The flaming hair was spilling into the close cropped blonde hair of the person next to her. Clove already knew it was Finnick because, against all of Annie's childhood giggles and laugher and teasing, she had fallen head-over-heels for Finnick. Clove could almost see the glint of Annie's golden engagement ring and could almost taste Annie's never dimming happiness.
She adjusted the long train of her dress so she could turn away from the chapel, and focus her attention of the eternal spew of words falling from Glimmer's mouth as she paced around. The words altered between cursing Cato for being late on the most important day of his life, praying that he'd come faster, and yelling to a God that she would follow him and go to church and do whatever if he'd just bring Cato here in ten minutes.
"Sheesh Glimmer," Katniss said. "By the amount of words coming out of your mouth you'd think this was your wedding."
Clove nodded to Katniss, thankful for the break of silence. As much as Glimmer was her best friend, she could have a problem shutting up and often talked out her feelings.
Clove wiped the sweat that was forming off on her hands, and she paced - or tried her hardest with the long train. "Where is Cato? Where the hell is Cato?"
-:-
(20 long years ago)
An assortment of red petals fluttered and floated down from Katniss' olive hand. The petals had been plucked off of the plastic flowers from the many vases around the house.
"No, no, no!" Clove yelled. She unhooked her entangled arm and ran towards Katniss. "Why are the petals red! They're supposed to be white!"
Katniss leveled her gaze at Clove's mouth turned upwards and said stubbornly, "No, I'm pretty sure the petals can be any color."
"You're wrong! Petals are supposed to be white! To match the red dress!"
Clove could see Annie staring down at her dress, an off pink the color of the morning sky, and smiled, "Clove. You're wrong, silly! A dress can be any color, except black. ' Married in black take yourself back. ' "
Clove threw up her hands, a gesture the little children had seen their parents do multiple times. She felt fed up. She did know more about weddings than the others, she'd been to two. One more than Annie. She knew more! Why were they questioning her?
"My dress" Glimmer pipped up, "is going to be gold at my wedding, not red."
At those words, Clove stomped off into a corner - a childish thing to do. "Red, I'm going to have a red dress." She muttered over and over.
Cato, Clove's other best friend, ran down the 'aisle' carpeted with multiple sheets and stopped in front of her. "No! Petals are supposed to be red, and the dress is supposed to be white! Get your facts straight!"
Clove stood up to full height, barely reaching Cato's ears. "No. Red. Dress. White. Petals," she said it slowly, as if she was talking to a preschooler.
"White dress, red petals!" Cato argued. "Clove, your wrong."
Finnick left his place at the 'alter' - a T.V. table draped in a brown table cloth - and came to join in the fray. "Gosh, Cato's right. It's supposed to be a white dress!"
Clove, angry and frustrated that they wouldn't listen to her - even over a trivial topic - did the one thing her little mind thought of doing. She tackled Cato.
It wasn't a hard, I'm-going-to-kill-you tackle, more like a you're-my-brother-so-I-can-tackle-you kind. She knocked Cato to the soft carpet before he began to fight back.
Clove and Cato rolled around the room, trying to get the other to agree with each other's opinion about weddings. Instead of using the words like normal eight-year-olds, Cato and Clove continued to yell and roll around the living room.
Enough noise had been made to attract the parents from outside, and soon the adults came bursting through the door, ready to fight whatever happened. They were just in time to see two children rolling on the floor yelling about what color wedding dresses should be.
-:-
Clove smiled at that memory. Cato had purposely chose a white dress for Clove to wear - against her will of course. She had always wanted to wear a red pastel colored dress, but Cato had bought the dress himself, and Clove didn't have the heart to tell Cato to return it.
A figure came running up the steps, his suit untucked, and his skin was covered in a sheet of sweat. "So sorry," Cato breathed. Clove suddenly recalled that he'd been late. She had temporally forgotten that lost in her memory. That evil, little retard had to be late on his wedding day! "Sorry I'm late, Clove."
Before thinking about anything, Clove reached out at slapped Cato across the face. It felt good to relive all her pent up emotions and stress on that slap. The sound of the flesh hitting flesh with a snap sounded almost heavenly to Clove's frustrated ears.
Cato staggered backwards from the force of the blow. Clove may be several inches shorter but she was strong. "What the hell Clove!?"
"I can't believe you're late!" She exclaimed. The slap had relived much of her emotions, and a Clove could only feel the happiness and content seeping back into her heart. Sure, Cato had been late, but at least he was here. Besides, this was her wedding day. Before Cato could defend himself for being late, she pulled him closer. "Well, we have a wedding to continue. Let's go."
She grabbed Cato's hand and burst through the doors. She ignored the shocked stares from the congregation of aunts and uncles. Clove brushed off the whispers and mutters of disbelief and disapproval and only focused on the bright happiness - like a day of sunshine - warming her heart. Sure it wasn't that traditional, but Clove was wearing a white dress. Enough tradition for her.
A/N: Stop looking at me like that. Please, stop. Technically, a wedding did go wrong. The little kid wedding. I filled out the prompt.