I wake up and stretch out my arms, expecting to find Peeta beside me but he's not there. I'm confused for a second then I hear the oven door closing downstairs. He's already up.
My eyes slowly adjust to the forest green walls of our room. Light is starting to stream through the slits in the shutter blinds. I unwrap the blanket from myself and cross to my wardrobe. I slip from my pyjamas and dress in a simple dark green tank top, black trousers and brown boots. I let my long dark hair stay loose though I run a brush through it, removing the knots and tangles. I finger the pearl and key around my neck. The pearl is the same one from the Quarter Quell and the key unlocked Peeta's handcuffs when we were in the Capitol. I had them put on a silver chain some years ago now. I've never taken it off since.
I go out onto the large landing, the soft cream carpet under my feet, and make my way downstairs into the kitchen. When Peeta and I started to live together, the house in the Victors Village didn't feel like our home. We bought a large tumbledown old farmhouse, very high up on a mountain. Peeta and I spent over a year repairing it but it was worth it in the end. The house has six bedrooms though only ours is constantly occupied. The living room has a wooden floor and a huge fireplace. The kitchen is huge, a traditional farmhouse kitchen, with a small cellar which comes in handy with Peeta's baking habits. Our home came with a lot of the surrounding land too, perfect for my own hunting habits. We have a few empty paddocks and farm buildings too. We've lived here for nearly six years, married for four of those.
"Hey." Peeta greets as I pad into the kitchen, his blue eyes sparkling in the rising sun.
"Hey." I smile. I boost myself up onto the worktop. Peeta raises his eyebrows at me, he doesn't like me sitting on the counter but he lets it slide.
"I achieved something this morning." he says.
"Oh really? What did you achieve?"
"I actually managed to make it down here without that cat hissing at me." he says, jerking his head towards Buttercup in his cat basket.
Buttercup is ancient now. We managed to drag him up here with us. At first he wouldn't settle but he eventually grew to like it here. He's quite important to me though, being Prim's cat. The feeling isn't mutual. He spends his days sleeping in his basket and lounging around in front of the fire and his nights catching mice in the surrounding woods then coming into our bed afterwards.
"That is an achievement." I say, my mouth full of scrambled eggs.
There's a harsh knock at the door. Peeta and I exchange a look, knowing who it is already. I sigh and slip off the counter, followed by Peeta. I open the door and on the doorstep stands Greasy Sae, her straggly brown hair dampened down by the rain.
"Haymitch?" I ask matter-of-factly, leaning against the door frame. She nods.
"He must have gone on a spree last night. He's pretty messed up." she sighs. "He needs a carer or something. He's getting out of control."
"We'll deal with him." I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
Greasy Sae nods again then retreats down the path from town that leads up here. I close the door behind her. I sigh tiredly and walk straight into Peeta's open arms. We stay entwined for a few moments before I pull away. I pull my hunting jacket from the row of hooks on the wall.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"Where do you think?" I snap at him. He shakes his head.
"Look, we can't keep going on like this. We're adults now and we have our own lives to be getting on with." Peeta says.
"What do you have in mind then? We can't just leave him." I say, pulling the keys to Haymitch's house from the box on the wall and opening the front door.
He shakes his head again and follows me out into the rain.
We trudge down to his house in the Victors Village and through the front door. The wave of extreme heat and the awful smell hits me straight away. Greasy Sae was right.
He was definitely on some kind of spree last night, no doubt about it. The floor is covered with stains and dozens of empty liquor bottles. Haymitch himself is lying, passed out, in his filthy armchair. I go straight into the kitchen and fill up a basin with water. I don't even consider trying to shake him awake.
Some things will never change.
Peeta prises his knife from him before I throw the water over him. He jerks awake, screaming curses at us until his mind slips into focus and he recognises us.
"Why didn't you let him wake me up?" he asks indignantly, pointing at Peeta.
"This can't go on, Haymitch. You're a living wreck." I tell him sharply. Haymitch looks to Peeta appealingly. Clearly he thinks that Peeta's soft side is still open to him.
"She's right, Haymitch. You need to sort yourself out." Peeta says, his voice turning hard. "We're not teenagers any more. We don't have time to be running around after you. We have our own lives now."
I offer him my hand and pull him up. I don't let go once he's up though. Judging by the amount of empty bottles, he'll be very unsteady on his feet.
"Go and have a shower. You can come home with us for the rest of the day." I say. He doesn't object and goes up the stairs submissively.
As soon as he's out of eye shot, I collapse onto the sofa. I put my head in my hands, a few tears starting to slip out. Peeta sits beside me and puts his arm tightly around my shoulders.
"What are we going to do with him, Peeta?" I sob, burying into his side.
"I'm still working on that one." he says softly, smoothing my sweep fringe back with his free hand. I pull away and take his hand. "He's going to drink himself to death eventually."
"Discuss it at home, Katniss. I'll think of something." he says comfortingly.
We sit in silence for another twenty minutes until Haymitch comes downstairs. His eyes are a bit brighter and he's cleaned himself up. He can't hide the guilt on his face though.
After a testing walk up the path, which involved Peeta and I ending up dragging Haymitch up the trail, we finally get back to our home. Haymitch deposits himself on the brown leather sofa. He has the decency to stay silent. I cook up a rabbit stew for supper and serve it up to him with some bread. He mutters his thanks. He must be nursing a killer of a hangover. We eat in complete silence, I can feel the tension in the air. Frustration and a little anger from Peeta and I and guilt from Haymitch. After we've eaten, I pull Peeta into the kitchen.
"Thought up any genius ideas?" I ask, almost desperately.
"No. Well, no practical ideas . ." he says, trailing off.
"So what's your impractical idea?" I ask apprehensively. He looks away and swallows nervously. I know what he's thinking of. "Your idea was asking Haymitch to come and live here?"
"It's a stupid idea anyway. I know you like it being just us and . . ."
"Peeta, I'm not mad." I say calmly, cutting him off.
"You're not?" he says incredulously.
And I'm not. When the thought first passed into my mind I wanted to reject it automatically but I can't. There's not many other options we have. To my surprise, I don't even mind the idea of him being here.
"No. I think it's an option." I say reasonably, then a thought passes through my mind. "Peeta, I won't have children with him here, drunk."
"I know." he says sadly. His face is so pained it hurts me too. I wasn't ready to try again. The last time still haunted me every time I walked pass their door. I would never forget but maybe I would try again sometime.
"What if we make him stop?" I say suddenly.
"Stop drinking?"
"Not altogether. Slowly."
"You seriously think he'll abide to these proposals?"
"Maybe. It's worth trying. Besides," I smile playfully. " . . we can always kick him out."
"Good point." he laughs.
Peeta and I file into the living room silently. Haymitch looks up edgily.
"Who died? You two look like someone's just dropped dead." he says, a little snappily.
"We have something to ask you." I say quietly, looking into his grey eyes. Haymitch looks at us, almost curious. "Haymitch, your drinking is out of control. You can't go on living in the Victors Village like that. We were wondering if you like to move in here with us."
Haymitch's eyes widen, shocked. Bet he didn't see that coming. He collects himself after a few seconds and narrows his eyes.
"Well, Lover Boy wants himself some kids doesn't he?" he says, a mocking edge creeping into his tone. "You wouldn't have me up here, drunk, with her knocked up would you? Or you wouldn't have me up here with little kids charging about the place. So, regarding the drinking, what's your proposed ground rules?"
I go to answer him but Peeta gets there first.
"Three bottles a week. We would prefer you didn't drink them all on one night. In fact, we would prefer you didn't drink at all but since that scenario is unlikely we settled on offering a compromise. You can have those three bottles as long as you try and get off the liquor." Peeta says sharply, Haymitch goes to speak but he cuts him off straight away. "It's killing you, Haymitch. You need to stop while you still can."
Haymitch sits back, weighing up his options. After what Peeta said about giving up, I doubt he'll even seriously consider it now though he's right of course. All this drinking will kill him some time.
"Fine." he says after a while. Peeta and I look up, stunned. "Fine. I'll keep to my three bottles a week and try to give it up. I have one question though."
"What?" I ask.
"Do I have to listen to you two going at it all night?" he says, his arrogance resurfacing.
Normally I would have flushed and made some sarcastic comment back but this time, I laugh. Peeta and Haymitch look at me unusually then join in and we can't stop ourselves.
I wouldn't want to stop it anyway.