Maybe just one more drink.
For the girl.
The girl on fire. Never afraid. Always rebelling. A symbol of hope, love, courage. The girl with passion that clouded sense, with mental stamina, a fierceness that could kill even the largest of threats.
He supposed that's what she was to everyone else. To the Capitol. But not the boy. No, of course not to him. The boy with the bread. Brave, political, sharp, caring. Weak from his compassion, soft around the edges and easy to manipulate. The opposite of the girl on fire.
The two weren't any of those things to him, though. Never to him. He saw them for what they were: children.
The boy with the bread, the boy with the heart, the boy with so much fear placed in the situation he was in that he didn't think that he should fear the people he trusted. The boy with the bleeding heart that he allowed to bleed out. The boy who gave up on love because the one he loved didn't have the capacity to love the same way he did. The boy who lost the few good memories he had left after the Games. The boy that loved a girl that was already lost.
And then there's the girl. The girl on fire, the girl with a heart that only ever truly belonged to her sister, to her home. The girl with so much hatred for the world she was in that she didn't remember to love the people she fought so hard to protect. The girl with the unfortunate timing. The girl that would sing only in the cover of night, sing for a brighter tomorrow. The girl who was so tired of being near death that she became tired of living. The girl who started to love a boy that was already lost.
That's how he ended up here today. The charred bodies lower into the ground in the Victors' Village of the desecrated District Twelve.
Not many showed up. Most preferred to grieve in private. Only the girl's sister and himself are present, but he supposed that's how they would have wanted it anyway.
"Haymitch," the girl whispers, "it's time to go." She hands him a handkerchief, and only then does he notice the wetness on his face.
He sets looks to his flask once more. "Cheers." He downs the rest of the liquid before slipping the flask in his pocket.
Taking the handkerchief in one hand, he then grabs her arm with the other and they make their journey out of their perished town.
The girl on fire and the boy with the bread, turned to ashes. They played with fire for too long, and they got burned.