So was feeling like writing a short Hayffie and came up with this. It's a different writing style than I'm used to, I usually write in 1st person so tell me what you think!
His feet were quiet compared to the noise outside of the building as The Capitol citizens celebrated the Victor of the 71st Hunger Games. But they were loud enough to alert one, Effie Trinket of his presence. Her wig was tossed aside and her make up was smudged, particularly under her eyes. Haymitch didn't look much better, but looking messy and careless was standard for him.
"Effie?" He asked, not bothering to turn on the light, but instead keeping her room in shadows.
"Go away!" she said to the wall. She didn't feel like wasting energy on moving. She didn't feel like doing anything. She just Sat there, recollecting the events that had happened not even an hour ago.
They had been so close. Kyler had been so close. Final two, it had been between district twelve and district two. It had been an amazing fight; both had an advantage at some point. It had been clear who the winner would have been. It would have been Kyler. But there had been a hole in the otherwise flat ground that seemed to go on for miles. He fell; you could have heard the gasps that went through the Capitol. District Twelve had been so close to bringing home a new victor but once he fell all that had been lost. Mica, the tribute from Two pounced. He knocked the weapon from his hand so his opponent was left defenceless. It wasn't a quick death for him; Mica cut of his fingers first, then the ears. Kyler had refused to scream, even when Mica drew the knife diagonally across his face, leaving a deep cut that gushed blood all over his face. The only time he screamed was when the knife was stabbed into his chest for the last time. He didn't scream for long though, the puncture wounds on his chest and the many other cuts drained him of life.
Effie shuddered and another tear ran down her cheek. "I just thought he would live," she said to herself. "I thought he would win. I didn't think he would die." this was her fourth year as district twelve's escort. She had left district twelve with two children each year and returned with none. She had hoped this year would be different. And when he made it to the final three, it seemed it would be. So she'd let herself get attached, only to have it ripped away. "How has he dealt with it for so long?" she asked herself, thinking of Haymitch. Who, for twenty one years had watched tributes go into the arena only to watch them die a horrific death.
"He tries." her sobs catch in her throat, she hadn't known he was there. "I don't succeed though. It sucks watching kids die every year." the weight shifts on the bed as he sits down. Effie slowly detangles herself from the ball she made for herself out of sheets and blankets.
"Does it get better?" She asks.
"No," he sighs. "Just more of the same. It's never as bad as your Games, if your a mentor." he runs a hand through his curly hair, making it messier than it was before.
"Why?" she asks. It's not polite to pry, chides the voice in her head. And normally she listens to the voice but there was just something about Haymitch that made her think that etiquette maybe didn't matter too much in times like this.
"Because you killed some of them. Some of them were your friends. You got to know them. Then once you won, they were just... Gone." he was struggling for words to explain, this wasn't exactly a topic that they would usually discuss.
"I had a dog once, he died" she told him, moving closer to him on the edge of her bed.
"I don't think that's really the same, sweetheart." he chuckles. She frowns, maybe it wasn't the same, but it was similar.
"Why does this have to happen?" she sighs, bring her knees up to her chin.
"The killing or this conversation?" asks Haymitch.
"The Killing." she clarifies. "I don't actually mind talking to you, when you're sober."
"Thanks for the compliment, sweetheart. And to answer your question; it doesn't. People don't have to die for entertainment. They just do."
"I'm glad you didn't die, Haymitch." she mumbles. He turns his head to look at her. She's sitting right beside him now, looking into the dark room. In the dark Effie's natural hair colour looks like a dark blonde. But it's probably light blonde, thinks Haymitch. Then he mentally slaps himself. Why do I care about her hair? She shivers; her arms are bare since she discarded her jacket as soon as she came in. Before he can stop himself, Haymitch reaches behind her to grab a blanket. She jumps when the soft fibres of the blanket hit her shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispers, turning her head to face him. She still has tears in her eyes, and her make up is still smudged. But something seemed different. Maybe it was the fact that he now had proof that she had feelings, now he saw she cared about things other than fashion and her schedule.
He kissed her, and after a moment of surprise she kissed him back. It wasn't just a peck, and a peck was all Effie had ever hoped to get. On occasion Effie had looked at him and wondered what it would be like to kiss him. But she hadn't imagined anything more than a peck, because well, she didn't really think she was Haymitch's type of girl.
She kissed me back! Was all he thought? He'd sometimes wonder if Effie had feelings for him, whether she even considered him worthy of any kind of affection. Apparently she did.
When they broke apart Effie said
"Have you had anything to drink?"
"No," he said. She quickly kissed him again, noticing how his lips tasted. No alcohol.
"Okay, I believe you." she sighed Resting her head against his shoulder. Slowly, he wound his large fingers with her slim ones.
"If you're going to be an escort, you're going to need to deal with people dying." he warned her. Harsh yes, but true.
"I know," she said squeezing his hand. "But you'll help right?" he brings their joined hands up to his lips and kisses them.
"Sure thing, sweetheart."
So, short and sweet! Tell me what you think with a review!