If You Must

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Peeta

"Come here, Peeta, let me fix your hair," my aunt says, rushing towards me.

She pushes a small lock of hair behind my ear and smooths back some from my forehead, but it doesn't stay put.

"Give me two minutes. I'll be back with some hair gel."

I watch her run off and see my father approach in the bakery's van, our family logo on the side of it.

He climbs out and walks over to where I'm setting up chairs on the yacht club's lawn.

"Hey, Peeta, I need to talk to you," he says, and pulls me away from my other brother who continues laying decorative orange sashes across some of the seats.

"You're still seeing Katniss?" he asks.

I feel myself blushing awkwardly.

"I don't know if I can say that but I've been hanging out with her," I tell him.

"Well, a young man came into the bakery this morning-" he begins.

"Who?" I find myself asking.

"Come to think of it, I didn't get his name, but he looked kind of familiar. One of Katniss' friends."

It had to have been Gale Hawthorne. I wonder what he had to say. My mind jumps to the conclusion that he'd come to scare me away from Katniss, I've always been intimidated by him.

"Katniss was in an accident."

I'm suddenly at a loss for words, I don't know what to think.

"The man said she's alright, but she is in the hospital. He wanted you to know that. He left her room number for you."

I let out a breath of air as soon as he tells me she's okay. My father hands me a slip of brown paper with some words scratched on it that I put right into my pocket.

I'm immensely grateful that Gale thought to tell me of this, though his motives perplex me.

"How terrible a brother would it make me if I left after the ceremony to see her?"

My dad breathes deeply.

"Go. If you must, I really think you should go."

"Thank you, dad," I tell him, and head back to help Isaac prepare the seating area, although now I can't exactly devote all of my focus to Rye's wedding. I won't be giving the speech I'd spent a week writing, I won't get to see he and his bride share their first dance or anything like that, but I ache to see Katniss.

My Aunt Octavia shuffles over with a bottle of hair gel before I can let my mind dwell on the worst.

************

"I do," says my brother.

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, watching the ceremony unfold from my position among the groomsmen.

"Do you, Johanna Mason, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer-"

"Sickness, health, until death, Hell yeah I do!" Johanna interjects.

I shouldn't have expected anything less from her exuberant personality. Their guests laugh, but some of the older people look appalled, which I'm amused by.

After they kiss - passionately and with tongue especially on Johanna's part, I take off before anyone notices.

Thankfully I have my own set of keys to the van, so I start that up and head down the yacht club's uneven gravel driveway.

I probably make it about thirty feet before noticing that the rear view mirror's visibility is blocked by an elaborate tiered wedding cake.

Oh, God.

I step out of the van and make my way around to the back of it, opening the doors to find that it's not just the cake, but cookies, pies, and cupcakes meant for the reception.

I can't think of anything to do but lay them - carefully - on the grass where my father will have to find everything when he comes intending to unload the van.

The cake is tricky to get out, and I know that if there's so much as a smeared fondant rose, I can anticipate my brother killing me.

It's not incredibly tall or heavy. I'd bet Johanna was unwilling to let my father make too extravagant of a cake, so he compromised with this three layer piece. It takes a good five or six minutes to transfer to the grass seamlessly, resting on a stand of course, but I'm proud of my efforts.

After climbing into the van again, I have to frustratedly step out one more time to shut the doors, and then I'm on my way to see Katniss.

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