A/N: I was listening to The Airborne Toxic Event the other day and I just couldn't get this scenario out of my head. So here it is, a little bit of Haymitch/Effie.
And it starts, sometime around midnight.
Or at least that's when you lose yourself
For a minute or two…
He had been to a hundred of these stupid parties. Not one was different from another. Most of them took place at Snow's mansion and no matter how much Haymitch hated the president, he was required to attend most of them. Which was fine, he would just drink himself silly and be sent home anyway.
Tonight, the ceiling mirrored a dreamy, hazy sky. Thick greys like billowing charcoal, pinks and purples swirling together like a twilight horizon, and a black darker than the shadows behind your eyes all combined to create a dream-like state within the room. Purple iris' adorned the center pieces and the musicians kept their sounds soft and sleepy. There was the typical chatter and laughter of the Capitol citizens, silly conversations giving way to sloppy dances. The more they talked, drank, and ate, them more Haymitch resented each and every one of them. For most of the night, he had himself planted on a cushy maroon barstool. Neon lights were cast on all of the glasses, which seemed to be emitting some sort of radiating glow from within. All of the fancy drinks and flourishes had no impression on Haymitch.
It must have been almost midnight. Haymitch was well on his way to being drunk, having knocked back a few strong ones. With a small sigh, he casually turned to face the rest of the room, his elbows leaning back on the bar top. Next to him, a few of his acquaintances (or, well, Haymitch had known them so long they might as well be friends) were laughing and joking, occasionally trying to include Haymitch in the conversations. They all knew it was a lost cause once it reached midnight because there would be enough alcohol in Haymitch that he wouldn't remember anything the next morning anyway.
Somewhere, a piano was striking up a delicate tune, a slow song meant for a couples dance. Just as Haymitch was about to turn away and order another drink, a face caught his eye. Hints of a smile played at the woman's lips as she sipped from a glass. She was standing in a small group of people, listening but not taking part in the conversation. As the crowd parted and shifted, he could see the material of her dress. It was flowing and made of some intricate white fabric, fitting snug over her curves and just kissing the floor, like wisps of smoke, not quite touching and just out of grasp. As Haymitch's eyes skimmed back to her face, he found that she was intently staring at him.
Startled, Haymitch leaned backward, and if it weren't for the bar, he would have fallen on the floor.
The woman had excused herself from the conversation, having finished her drink and in need of another one. She was striding steadily toward the bar, almost floating, determination in the lines of her face. Her soft curls were a shiny platinum color, adding to her ghost-like illusion. The corners of her mouth turned up politely upon reaching the bar and she requested another tonic from the bartender.
"Hello, Haymitch."
At this point, Haymitch was staring back at her, almost blatantly. She was at the stool next to him, leaning her elbows forward on the counter. At this close proximity, Haymitch could smell her perfume and it hit him like a new wave of intoxication. He couldn't see anything else in the room. All Haymitch could see was his arms around her, their skin touching, their lips meeting. The kisses they shared and the movements of their bodies. He was lost in a memory, a dream of something that had once been.
"Effie."
Haymitch only managed the syllables of her name. A name that hadn't been uttered in so long. And at the name, portions of a smile attempted to greet his lips but didn't quite make it. She received her drink and turned to look at him.
The memories flooded his mind, clouded his vision, and made him dizzy. Flashes of days long gone: picnics in the park, late night movies, tossed aside sheets, two glasses of wine, early morning breakfasts, hands linked together, words spoken.
Effie swallowed, nodding, turning away from Haymitch with one last glance. He watched the muscles of her throat contract and her pulse jump from just under her throat. In that instant, he felt the softness of skin as he had so many times placed two gentle fingers just there, to feel her heartbeat as he kissed her.
And then she was gone.
Vanishing into the hazy room, off to join people of better stature, more suited for her tastes. The clock struck midnight, echoing twelve loud bongs throughout the room. Haymitch had to admit, she always did have impeccable timing. He spun back to the bar, downing his latest drink of whatever, clenching his fists to keep himself from visibly shaking.
"Haymitch, are you alright?" A friend nudged him, a look of concern crossing his brow. Haymitch's face had paled almost as grey as the woman's dress.
"Fine." He muttered, standing a little too quickly and teetering from side to side. He gripped the stool for a moment to regain his balance and then began scanning the crowd. One more time, he just wanted to see her one more time. There were words that were never said and she needed to know. She was just here, she was just here and he missed his chance. Cursing himself, Haymitch began walking the path he believed she took, carefully navigating his way through the crowds.
There.
By the door.
She was leaving, attached to the arm of a bearded man Haymitch didn't know. As if she could sense his gaze, she turned and locked eyes with him for a split moment. His stomach churned, threatening to make the alcohol reappear. Face flushing hot, Haymitch felt his entire body tense.
And she was gone. Again.
Staggering on the sidewalk, the streetlights cast an empty glow on the late night asphalt. Haymitch had no way of knowing which way they went. He didn't know if they got a cab or hopped a train. Nothing. He didn't care that he had a bit too much, he didn't care if he passed out right here in the gutter. Nothing mattered but seeing Effie again. Nothing mattered except telling her the words she deserved to hear. Nothing. He didn't care about himself anymore, he wasted his time with that long ago. And now, here he was, standing on corner, begging the universe for one more chance. It didn't matter what she had to say or what she didn't want to say, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. He didn't care where he went after this or before this or any other time in the world. It was just now, here and now.
The next thing Haymitch was aware of was the slight rocking of something mechanical. A thin sliver of daylight passing under the shade. He bolted upright in a bed, taking in the room with a sweeping gaze. A train, he was on the train. Back to District 12, no doubt.
A sigh settled him back into the soft, down pillows. Haymitch swallowed hard, his mouth dry and parched. That was a dream, it had to be a dream. The events of the night before were nothing but a drunken hallucination, or so he tried to convince himself. And despite how unsure he was of his actions, he couldn't get Effie's picture out of his head.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You know that she'll break you in two.