WARNING: This doesn't really have any kind of plan to it, but please enjoy!
I sit in the meadow, next to Peeta, staring out into the woods. I don't know what had inspired me to get Peeta and bring him here, but whatever it was, I hate it. This was a terrible idea. It's been half an hour and neither of us has said a word. I've tried, but I have no idea what to say to him. We haven't spoke since the train journey home, that was almost three weeks ago. We haven't been forced to interact as a couple in that time, either. Honestly, we haven't even seen each other. It's kind of awkward. No, actually, it's super awkward.
"He chose you, you know." My head snaps up to him as I hear his voice. He's not looking at me, though, he's playing with some grass.
"What?" Who chose me?
"Haymitch. In the arena, he chose you over me." His voice sounds glum and his shoulders are slumped. He sounds like someone who's just given up.
"What do you mean?" I ask and he turns to look at me. There's sadness in his eyes.
"You're the one he sent packages to. You're the one he saved." My brow furrows as I think about this. Peeta's right. I was the one Haymitch decided to save. I gulp, realising this must be terrible for Peeta. Because he didn't recieve anything, not even when he was on the brink of death. Only when I found him did he recieve a package.
"He sent you stuff too." I point out. It's on a whim, really, because I know he knows that I know it isn't true.
"Only because you were there." Another true statement from Peeta. We both return to staring out into the woods. But I don't really see anything, my mind is too busy thinking over what I've just been told. I'm surprised, very surprised, that I didn't figure this out earlier. Maybe I did, and I've just been in denial about it.
I help him up, he still hasn't got used to his artificial leg, and we walk in silence back to our houses.
I sit at the dinner table, pushing the meat around with my fork. My appetites completely vanished, I'm too busy thinking about what Peeta said. I can't let it go, even though I know it doesn't really mean anything. Does it?
Prim puts a hand on my arm. I jump, startled, and look at her as she pulls her hand back. "Sorry," She murmurs, "I didn't mean to scare you." I shake my head,
"No, it's okay, really."
"What's up, Katniss?" I bite my lip. Should I tell her? No, I shouldn't.
"It- it's nothing, Prim. I was just... remembering stuff." I fake a shudder, and she gives a nod of understanding. Well, it isn't really understanding, because she doesn't understand what I've been through. She can't understand it, it's not like losing our dad. It's far, far worse than that.
Abruptly I stand up, shoving my plate over to Prim. "Here, finish this." I walk out, and as I reach the door way my mother calls out to me. It's the first time she's spoken to me all day.
"It's getting late. Where are you going?"
"To see Haymitch. I have to talk to him." I do. I need to know why he chose me. I can't stand not knowing.
The wind hits me like a tornado as I open the front door. Shutting it behind me, I scurry across the lawn to Haymitch's house.
I stare at his front door. Should I knock? Or are we past that stage now? We must be, the guy kept me alive for Christ's sake! I gingerly push the door, as if afraid of what I might find on the other side. Perhaps I am, I mean, I've never before been on the inside of Haymitch's house.
It isn't very nice. The stench of alcohol immediately hits me like a ton of bricks. There's wall paper hanging of the walls in some areas, it looks as if it has been torn down. It probably has. There's an empty hole where the phone should be. "Haymitch?" I call out. There's some banging and a muffled curse from the room next door.
"In here, sweetheart." His husky voice replies. Relieved to hear he's somewhat sober, I wade my way through broken glasses and dirty clothes, into the living room where Haymitch is sat on the edge of the sofa, whiskey glass in hand. He glances up at me and motions for me to sit down on the sofa next to him. I do, but one cushion apart, and take a look around his room. It's just as cluttered as the hall, just as wrecked. He can't possibly enjoy living like this. I can't even imagine how Effie would react to this.
There's a clunk as Haymitch puts his glass down on the coffee table. "I'd offer you one, but your uninvited appearance made me drop my bottle." He gestures to a broken glass on the floor still glistening with liquid. That must have been what the bang was.
"Sorry." I say, although I don't mean it.
"Hm." He grunts.
"I'd have called, but you don't have a phone." I say matter of factly.
"Yeah."
"You should probably get that fixed."
"Why?"
"So Effie can speak to you without coming into this house. Honestly, she wouldn't approve." He grunts again and merely shrugs, not particularly caring. He picks his glass up and swirls the amber contents around.
"Is there something you want, sweetheart?" I wince at the nickname. I still don't like being called it. It's nice, I mean, it reminds me of my father. Of happier times. But the way Haymitch says it... No, it isn't nice at all. It's sarcastic and bitter. Just like him and his alcohol.
"Why did you choose me over him, Haymitch?" I say quietly. I risk a look at him to see him staring at me with a confused expression. So I elaberate. "In the arena. You sent Peeta nothing to help, nothing at all, yet you sent me quite a lot. Why?" I'm still looking at him. He takes one last gulp from his glass and places it down on the table, breathing deeply.
"I liked you, from the beginning I liked you. I hated you, honestly I still hate you now, but I liked you." I snort.
"Yeah, that's really fucking explanatory." He glares at me and I realise he wasn't completely finished.
"What you did for your sister at the reaping... It showed character. It showed promise. It showed some one who wasn't afraid to fight for something, or some one, they love. I liked that. I liked that a lot. It impressed me."
"So.." I struggle to find the right words to express my confusion. "So, you basically favourited me just because of what I did? Because I volunteered for Prim?"
"No, it wasn't just that..." I look at him, frowning, waiting for him to continue. But he doesn't. Instead, he's staring out of the window, into the darkness. I wonder what he sees. I don't see anything, anything but the black.
He turns back to me suddenly, and in his eyes I see pain. The kind of pain that I sometimes see in my mother's eyes when she sits in her chair, doing nothing but staring into the darkness. Just like what Haymitch was doing only seconds before. My throat tightens and I find myself thinking ghastly thoughts. I realise that I know next to nothing of the horrors that this man, my mentor, has been through. All I really know is his name. Haymitch Abernathy. That's it, and the fact he drinks himself to death every night. I don't even know why he does that.
"Peeta told me about you one night, on the train." What? Peeta told him about me? I don't say anything, I have nothing to say, so he continues. "He told me about your hunting. I already knew that, of course, who doesn't know Katniss, the girl who lost her father at the tender age of eleven, the girl who took on her family as her responsibilty? Everybody knew you, before you were the girl on fire."
That's true. People did know me, but I wasn't aware that Haymitch did.
"If you add that to the love you have for your sister, you get nothing but a survivor. And that's what you are. That's why I chose you." I nod. He chose me because he thought I had a better chance of winning.
"Surviving... That's all I'm really good at." He gives a short, bark like laugh.
"Sweetheart, you aren't really that good at anything. Except maybe hunting. Yeah, you're not too bad at that." He winks at me and I start laughing. He joins in too, with a different laugh than the one I'm used to. This one isn't bitter, or sarcastic, or even full of hate. It's genuine, and warm, and it pleases me to know I helped bring this out. Maybe Haymitch isn't so bad after all. Huh.
It takes a while for us to quieten down. I'm more relaxed now, leaning into the back of his sofa. It feels good to be able to let go for once, to just be myself. To deflate. Haymitch takes another gulp of his drink. "Haymitch, why do you drink so much?" I ask.
"It keeps away the hauntings." No more is said than that. But I want to know.
"What hauntings?" I tip my head to the side as I examine him. He mirrors my position and I reach an arm out to push him, but he grabs it and yanks me towards him. I yelp in surprise, I didn't know he was this strong. But then again, I don't exactly weigh that much. He's know holding me next to his side, and strangely, I'm not objecting.
He bends down and I can feel his warm yet heavily scented breath on the side of my neck, just below my ear. "You know sweetheart," He begins to drawl out. I shiver. "There's one thing you're especially bad at." I don't know why I haven't pulled away yet. This is crazy. Completely, utterly absurd. But something's stopping me.
"And what's that?" I manage to get out, suddenly breathless. His fingers tilt my face towards his.
"Protecting yourself." He whispers, latching his lips onto mine.
He pulls back when he realises I haven't responded to the kiss, and I look at him briefly. I have two options. I can either slap him, or get up and walk away. But I don't do any of those and before a second has passed we're kissing again, only this time, I initiated it. I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me up, positioning me on his lap so my legs are straddling his hips.
This is not like kissing Peeta. Oh no, this is way, way better.
But this is so, so wrong.
"Haymitch..." I begin to say, entwining my fingers into his hair. I tug at it slightly and I hear him moan. I'm not sure what makes my voice sound so enticing when I whisper onto his lips, "You like that, don't you?" He doesn't answer except with bringing me even closer, and soon I'm gasping for breath. I pull back and his lips move down my jaw, down my neck, to my collarbone. My breath hitches.
"You like that, don't you sweetheart?" He asks, retreating to rest his head against the back of the sofa and smirking lazily at me. I roll my eyes but answer anyway,
"Yes." He chuckles before glancing out of the window.
"I was wrong about you, you know."
"About what?"
"Your charm. It's much nicer than a dead slug." In one swift motion, he shifts me from on top of him so I'm lying on the sofa with him hovering over me. "It's getting dark sweetheart. Don't you think you should head home?" He raises an eyebrow at me. I only live next door.
"Probably. But my mother knows where I am."
"Oh." Is all he says. "And does she know what you're doing with me?" His voice has a seductive edge to it and I find myself unexplicably drawn closer. I don't know how this man has stayed single for so long. It's probably the liquior.
"She doesn't have to." That's all the answer he needs.
The sun filters in through holes in the curtains, causing my vision to blur. The whole left side of my body is resting on something warm that feels a lot like skin. Oh god. It is skin. Slowly, my eyes travel up the marred chest and to the face,
"Haymitch!" I squeal, clambering up and pulling the duvet around me.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Oh no, no, no no, no this is not a good morning. My eyes travel all around the room, staying clear of him. I'm his bedroom. The room confuses me a little. It's not as cluttered as down stairs, or as badly torn apart.
"Why is this room much cleaner than- where's your shirt?" I've only just realised that he isn't wearing one. A quick glance down at myself proves that I'm not either. But at least I'm not completely naked. "Oh my god, where's my shirt?" He chuckles,
"I rarely come in here. I think last night was probably the first in a long, long time." He winks. Oh dear. I can't remember last night, can I? "As for my shirt, well, I believe that's somewhere between the couch and the stairs. I cringe and blush heavily as that memory comes flooding back into my mind.
I'm laughing and I feel rather dizzy. Some moments ago Haymitch managed to get me to drink some of his alcohol, and I can now feel the effects coming on. My back gets pressed against the wall as his lips explore the skin on my neck. I start giggling as my fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt. "Slow down, sweetheart. You'll rip my shirt." His cool fingers snake around mine as his nose skims up and down my throat.
"I don't care." I whisper back, my voice like a pur. He chuckles and helps me undo the rest. I slide the shirt off his shoulders and my eyes wander down his chest. It's a lot more toned than I expected it to be and there's scars covering almost every inch of it. I wonder how he got them I think, most probably drunken fights.
His fingers lift my chin up. "My face is up here sweetheart." And then he smirks as he bends down once more.
Oh dear god. Haymitch clears his throat, bringing me back to the present, and I realise I had been staring at his chest. Again. Oops.
"And your shirt is... here." He reaches down the other side of the bed and brings up my shirt before flinging it at me.
"Thanks." I hurriedly pull it over me and let the duvet drop so it's only covering my legs. At least he's wearing pants. "And... and my trousers?" I ask, frowning. I can't see them any where.
"Under the bed. I'm going for a shower, you can see yourself out when you're ready." I nod and he saunters off into the bathroom.
I groan and flop back down onto the bed after I hear the bathroom door click. This is terrible. Completey, utterly, terrible. Sighing, I get up and kneel down on the floor, looking under the bed for my trousers. My head pops up when I hear a door opening.
It's Haymitch. And he's naked. Wide eyed, I make some strange noise of surprise and dive back down, sourly wishing I hadn't looked.
"Calm down, I forgot my towel. Christ, it's like you've never seen a naked body before." He mumbles as he walks back out. I watch the bathroom door shut from under the bed and quickly put my trousers back on.
I make my way down the stairs as quietly as I can. I'm not sure why, since Haymitch is in the shower and he's the only occupant of the house, but still I do. I catch my reflection in mirror in the living room. I look horrible. I take a few moments to smooth out my clothes and flatten my hair.
There. Now I don't look too bad. I leave his house and make my way back to mine.
I can feel the tension as soon as I open the door. "Katniss!" Prim yells and she runs towards me, hugging me. I hug her back, albeit confused. She looks up at me and there's dark circles under her eyes. "I couldn't sleep, I was so worried! I tried to ring but Haymitch's number's been disconnected." She frowns. "He should really get that fixed." I laugh.
"Yeah, I told him that too. But I doubt he will, though." My mother rounds the corner from the kitchen, glaring.
"Where have you been?" She demands.
"At Haymitch's." Did I not tell her that was where I was going?
"All night?" She asks. I nod.
"Yeah. We were talking, I was going to come back but I must have fell asleep on his couch. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. He was actually nice last night by the way, he only insulted me about three times." I laugh again and begin to make my way upstairs when Prim catches my arm.
"Ring us next time, okay? I don't like not knowing you're safe." My eyes begin to well with tears.
"Oh Prim." I give her a long, tight hug. "I will, I promise." I whisper into her ear.
"Good." She whispers back. I truly love Primrose, she's more than just my sister.
This originally ended after the second kiss, but I decided to agree with crysbit as it did feel rather unfinished and abrupt to leave it there. So I added the morning after for you all to enjoy! Tell me what you think?