A/N: This is set in the first book :) The Hunger Games © Suzanne Collins.
Effie Trinket was organised. If there was one thing she was, it was organised. She was always scarily punctual, and all her possessions were always in a set place. If her makeup smudged slightly, or her wig wasn't set perfectly, Effie could be counted upon to have a mental breakdown.
Haymitch Abernathy was a mess. Mentally, healthily, physically… in every way possible, Haymitch was a textbook example of self-destruction. He was never completely sober or aware of his surroundings; he consumed altogether too much, of both alcohol and food; and he'd long ago lost the physique that won him the fiftieth Hunger Games.
They shouldn't have worked. But they did — and very well, too. Effie sorted Haymitch out, and Haymitch made Effie relax a little bit (but no one could really change something as integral as that).
In truth, their relationship was like a cobweb. Lots of little threads were tying them together to create a beautiful but deadly thing. They were a muddle of smuggled alcohol (Effie! He already has enough!), stolen moments (oh, shut up, Eff, they're with their stylists), and a mutual need for some kind of rush, no matter how it was gained.
Really, it shouldn't have worked — after all, Effie hated mess, and Haymitch was bound to lose her amongst his clutter. But it just did, because Effie loved feeling important, and Haymitch hated being alone.
Effie Trinket was organised. Haymitch Abernathy was a mess. But together, they were a perfect little middle ground.
A/N2: I really hoped you enjoyed this; it's my first Hunger Games fic, but I have a few more lined up! Thanks for reading — a review would be great, please?