IF ANYONE ELSE HAS WRITTEN A STORY WITH THE SAME CONCEPT PLEASE TELL ME SO I CAN TAKE THIS DOWN. thanks:)

So, this is my first Hunger Games fanfic, and I honestly hope you like reading. Like the description and title implies, this is a detailed account of Haymitch's time in the arena. Suzann Collins only gave us a brief rundown of the games, but this, this is going to be an in depth look at it.

I hope you guys love it!

Deirdre can be pronounced three ways, but in this fanfic it's pronounced DAIR-druh(it's the irish form)

ENJOY!

I just realized that Mrs. Everdeen was never named, so I can name her myself! :D

And I'm sorry if I got the timing wrong, I mean when the reaping takes place and stuff.

My name is Haymitch Abernathy, I am 16 years old, I have a loving girlfriend, a wonderful family, and I was just reaped for the Hunger Games. This was how my "fantastic" day began.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was like most other mornings, I was woken up by the clatter of pots and pans. I was immediatley pulled out of the sweet dullness of my dreams, and I was pulled into the harsh reality. The grogginess didn't wear off even as I listened to my mother's chipper voice ordering my sister around the kitchen. I sat up and tried to rub the tired from my eyes. My younger sister, Colette, was scrambling around the kitchen trying to find scraps of food that my mother could use to make a decent breakfast.

"Morning, Haymitch!" Colette said with a smile. I gave her a small smile. Most other people would be angry if I gave them a barely noticable smile, but Colette knew how much I despised the very word smile. My mother turned from the "stove" and gave me a nod that meant, "Good morning, help you sister." You see, my mom and I are alike in many ways. Neither of us enjoy smiling, and we like to get things done quickly.

I slid out of bed and walked over to Colette. I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Anything in particular?" She knew what I meant. While she was scoping a small bowl that stood in the middle of the a large slab of wood nailed to four large sticks that could pass as our table. She shook her head.

"She wants anything. Dried fruit, dead mice, withered plants, anything she can use," Colette replied. Anything she can use.

"Bugs?" I asked. Colette stiffled a small giggle and shrugged as best as she could while trying to contain laughs. Since I'd rather not have a breakfast that consisted of bugs, mice, and dead plants, I asked mother something that I'm sure anyone would go for.

"Can I go to the market for some food?" I asked mother. She looked at me from the side, but I could tell that she thought I was stupid for asking.

"No one will be in the market."

"Then I'll go to Deirdre and see if she can spare anything," I told her. She thought about while she tried to fry what looked like a bug in our pathetic frying pan.

"She won't give you anything, she can barely get by herself."

"She will, trust me," I replied. My mother added the dried apples my sister had found to the frying pan. They sizzled and started to shrivel.

"Fine, but be back soon," I didn't say anything. Instead I walked over to our shared drawer and pulled on the handles that were barely being held on by four nails. It took three tries to get the drawer to unjam. I grabbed a random pair of pants and a white t-shirt. I placed my night clothes inside of my pillow case and pulled on the first pair of socks I saw. At the door there was a pile of shoes. It's just so happens that mine was on the bottom. Just great.

I slipped on my shoes and opened the door. I walked outside and closed the door quickly. The Seam was quiet, almost like a ghost town. The street was empty, as usual, and shades were drawn. The soot was a fine coating on the ground and house. Looking back at my house, the soot makes the faint, wavering late from my house appear blackish. Deirdre lives not even five minutes from my own house, since she too lives in the Seam.

I wasn't going to Deirdre's house, well not before breakfast anyway. I always go to her house after breakfast, never before, even if we need food. Instead I go to the meadow that was close to my house. I know they have some plants that you could use to eat. I also knew of a lone fruit tree that my Gram told me about. She told me that the tree was hundreds of years old, and was from time before Panem when you could have fruit trees wherever you wanted them. Her great-great grandmother told her daughter, who told her daughter, who told me. Now it's my job to make sure that tree lives.

I walked along the seemingly dead streets of the Seam, and I wondered if the merchant part of District 12 was also silent, proabably. The meadow looked the same as yesterday, if you exclude the beautiful blonde teenager picking the few wild herbs that grew in the meadow. I didn't approach her, I didn't have to. I walked as silently as I could past her. The tree was not in the actual meadow, but on of the trees surrounding it. I walked about five feet in when I saw my biggest secret. The tree was tall and the branches were weighed down by dozens of apples.

I place my hands on the rough bark and pepare for a nearly impossible climb. It took myself a minute or two to pull myself up. As soon as I reached the branches, it became much easier to climb. I went to the branch that had an abundance of blood red apples and began to shake the branch. The apples fell with dull thuds on the grass. I stopped shaking when about six apples have fallen to the ground. I slowly lowered myself, grunting from the physical strain it put on my arms. When I reached the ground, the blonde girl was standing there looking from the apples to the tree, then she looked at me.

I recognized her as the daughter from the apothecary shop owners. She was in my class, but I've never talked to her. The only time I actually acknowledged her was when we brought my father in to cure his throat pains. They were some of the only people in District 12 who had access to medicine. The doctor had told my father that it would go away within a few days, but he wanted to be cured that day. He went to the apothecary shop and drank a brew of herbs. I believe her name was Vivian Ostberg.

"Can I have one of those apples?" She asked in a quiet voice. I nodded. I have plenty of apples, it wouldn't hurt to give her one. She bent down and put an apple into her free hand. She straightened up and gave me a smile. I didn't return it. She didn't seem fazed.

"How's your father?" I had to admit I was surprised that she would remember about that. Mainly because it was a long time ago, and partly because she was a blonde. That was judging from what I've seen from the other blondes in my school.

"He's fine. How's business?" I asked her. She shrugged.

"It's going well," I nodded, not actually caring how her business went. I bent down and scooped the apples into my arms. I nodded at Vivian and walked away from her. When I was about to step into the meadow she said something.

"Good luck," Her voice was louder than before. It rang through the silence, and it was almost like a death sentence. I turned back to her and gave her a single nod.

"You too," She didn't say anything. I exited the meadow and made my way back to my house. It was only 11 in the morning, and still no one made an appearance. I reached my house and it looked the same as before. Opening the door was a feat since I had both of my hands full with apples. I opted to beang my shoulder against the door gently but hard enough to be heard. About ten seconds later the door is opened. My father smiled at the apples I held in my arms.

My father's name was Cruz and I've been told that I'm an exact replica of him, and quite frankly I agree. We have the same curly black hair, and our grey eyes are both bright. Our olive skin seems to be a shade lighter than that of my mother and sister. He took the apples into his hands and brought them to his my mother. I stepped into the house and closed the dootr. I quickly took off my shoes and sat at the pathetic little table of ours. I looked at my mother who was staring at the apples I brought and noticed that she looked giddier than a child in the Seam who got their first piece of candy.

"Give Deirdre our thanks," She said while whipping the only knife we own out of the drawer. She sliced the apples with practiced precision.

"I'll tell her."

Five minutes later our breakfast is ready. It wasn't a meager breakfast, like what I would've expected, but it was extravagant, for the Seam that is. My mother had kept the original dish she had made with dried fruit, leaves and roots, and plus one cockroach disguised as a large raisin. I have to admit, her dish wasnt that bad. She chose not to fry the apples I brought her, and sliced three of them into four pieces.

It was quater to 11 and I thought it was time to pay Deirdre a visit. I brought her an apple, as a going away present, It was a joke between us actually. We always pretended that one of us was going to be reaped, and we brought each other a gift, and we gave each other at least one meaningful kiss.

Deirdre lived close and her house was a larger than mine, having to rooms and all. Deirdre lived on the edge of the Seam, close to the merchant part of town. Her home had faded and cracking red paint and wasn't covered in as much soot as the other houses in the Seam. Her door was creaky and old. I think that if I knock too hard it'll come off at the hinges. That's why I'm tapping unbelievably lightly.

The door opened to show Deirdre; a beautiful girl of 17 years. Her eyes were a dark grey, and her hair was a dark brown and it was fairly wavy. Her skin was a dark olive. Deirdre had a stature of 5'6". And the best thing of all? Well, the best thing has to be that she's my sweetheart.

Deirdre gave me a large smile and threw her arms around my neck. I'm not one for feelings or physical affection, but with Deirdre, I just couldn't help it. My arms snaked around her waist and pulled her body close to mine. I gave her quick kisses on the cheek, and a long one on the lips. She stood in my arms for what seemed like forever, but when she unwound herself, she took my hand and led me into her house. I closed the door behind me, fully aware that Deirdre wouldn't do it herself.

She led me into her kitchen, which was also small. Her parents were sitting around a table. A stack of dishes was on the table off to the side. They gave me smiles which I tried to return, but I failed miserably in doing so. Deirdre's mother's smile faltered slightly. I didn't feel that bad. She should've learned by now that I'm not one for smiling, I have been going to their house for Deirdre for years. Her father didn't seem to care, and also gave me a small wave.

Deirdre led into the next room and sat me on her bed. She rummaged through the drawers and produced a crudely wrapped object. This was my cue to produce something. I had been hiding the apple in my shirt so she wouldn't see it. I pulled it out and her eyes shimmered. I know that Deirdre had only had apples once, and ever since then it had been her favorite food. She placed her gift in my empty hand and I placed mine in hers.

I unwrapped it and found something beautiful. Deirdre had been staying in school for extra hours to work on something, she had never told me what, but now I knew. She had been staying with the arts director making an intricate ring. It was silver and it seemed to be several small ropes knotted together to make a band. It was amazing, and I had to admit, that it was beautiful. I slipped it onto my left ring finger and admired it.

"It's almost as beautiful as I am, but it's nothing compared to you," I told her. She smiled and rubbed the apple I had given her. She sat next to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek that lingered even after her lips departed.

"This has to be the best gift you've given me so far! I love apples! And, just, wow," She said looking at me. She got up and placed it on the beaureu her family owned. I was confused.

"You're not going to eat it?" She looked back at me and chuckled.

"Do you eat gifts?"

"No."

"Exactly."

"What about when it goes bad?"

"Do you throw away your gifts?"

"No..."

"My point exactly."

Deirdre sat next to me again and leaned into me. That was our oh-so-meaningful kiss.

I left about an hour later. I walked home as slow as I could, not really wanting to get home in time for the Reaping. When I do get there I had taken double the time to get home than if I had walked at my normal speed. My mother had been waiting outside for me and she was shuffling by the time I reached the house.

"Hurry up, please, Haymitch," She told me in a stern tone. I nodded and made my way into the house. Colette was already dressed in a light yellow dress that reached her shins, and she was trying to tie her hair up into a bow. My mother, who must have slipped in behind me without my noticing, did it for her. I made my way to the drawer and took out what I wore to every reaping. A pair of my father's old dress pants that were slightly too long, and the nicest shirt I own, a blue striped button down and my usual shoes. I was done within two minutes.

I walked over to Colette who was fussing with her hair in our small and dirty mirror. I pulled on of her black curls playfully and she lightly smacks my forearm. She puts down the mirror and ruffles my curls with a fake angry expression playing on her features. I smiled minisculey and gave her a hug. A rarity from me. She returned it and bounced over to the door and quickly put on her shoes. She practically skipped out of the house. If a person could be happy about even the worst of things, that person was definatley my sister.

My father approached me by the door and tried to pat down my curls. Like most other things he did, it was useless. The four of us walked to the square and arrived there mere minutes before the reapings began. My parents had to find a spot far away from where the actual reapings would take place, and they'd have to watch the Reapings on a tv. Not that I mind. I part with Colette as she goes to stand with the other 14 year olds. I went to stand with the other boys of my age, 16.

The stage looked the same as it did every other year: the stage was small and held three chairs, a podium, and two glass balls; one for the girls and one for the boys. In one of the chairs sat Mayor Aburage, as portly as ever, the victor from many years ago, Annalise Krump, a tall merchant's daughter, and the escort, Ailia Browne. As soon as all of the hustle bustle is over, Mayor Aburage steps up to a podium and tells us the history of Panem. I tune it out that part, since I've heard it enough times. Then he reads the pathetic list of victors.

Then he introduces Ailia to us and steps away from the podium and Ailia steps up. Her l blue hair was up ponytails varying in length. Her eyes were a fake green, and her skin was tinted a light pink. She had a certain bounce and fake cheeriness about her. It disgusts me. She smiled impossibly large and leaned into the microphone.

"Ladies fist!" Her voise rang out across the square. It hurt my ears. She pranced over to the glass ball that held the girls names. She held the microphone up to her lips and said, "Micah Lee." A 14 year old from the Seam slowly walked up to the stage and said something into the microphone that I didn't really care about. Ailia went into the glass ball again and produced another slip.

"Maysilee Donner," She said. A pretty blond girl disengaged herself from her two friends who were hanging onto her arms, I recognized one as Vivian Ostberg. She slowly made her way onto the stage and when she did she looked downcast. She shook hands and then said into the microphone, "My name is Maysilee Donner, I am fifteen years old."

"To the boys!"Her chipper voice rang out across the plaza once again. She dug around the slips for about a minute before producing a slip of paper. She read it.

"Harris Tuck," Another death sentence. Another merchant's kid walked fom the 12 year old section. He walked quickly, probably to get it over with. He shook hands but didn't say anything into the microphone. Ailia didn't seem to care whether or not he said anything into the microphone because she went right to the ball to get the next name.

And that, my friends, is where that small flashback of ours ends.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o

"Haymitch Abernathy," I could barely register the fact that I was reaped for the Hunger Games before some people place their hands on my shoulders and gave me a light push. It felt as if time slowed down, it was like time itself was transformed to honey.

Before I knew it, I was standing on the stage and I was face to face with Ailia Browne. I shook her hand, and much like Harris, chose to not say anything. The mayor told all of us to shake hands, and we did, none of us were holding each other's gazed.

After we sang the anthem we were coralled into sepparate rooms inside of the Justice Building. My family arrived first. Colette immediatley ran over to me and sat on my lamp and cried her eyes out on my chest. My mother and father sat on either side of me and rubbed Colette. I was the first to speak.

"Who would've guessed?" My mother sniffled and began crying as hard as Colette. I must be better than I though, if I could make my mother cry that easily. I placed the arm that wasn't around Colette around my mother. My father and I were the only people who haven't started crying yet. You could tell that my father was pretty darn close, but me? I wasn't planning on crying any time soon. The rest of the hour was spent comforting my family, and giving them hugs. It's usually the other way around, but I guess we in the Seam are pretty unceonventional.

The next person to visit me was Deirdre. She walked into the room as if it were herself that was going to the games. She sat down next to me after giving me one of the longest, and sweetest kisses I've ever had. She placed her hand in mine and was sniffling to no end. After what seemed like forever she finally said something.

"Will you bring the ring into the games as a token?" She asked me. I nodded. I wouldn't leave anything like that at home, it was the only thing to remind me of her.

"Will you keep the apple?" I said. She nodded and leaned her head on my shoulder. I played with her fingers for a while before a thought I had to share came to mind.

"That game we played, it was sick, because it was never a joke," I said. Deirdre didn't answer. My third visitor was a surprise. Vivian. She walked in and didn't give me hug, but she just sat down. I could tell that she was crying because her eyes were red and puffy.

"Thanks for the apple," The rest of the visit was spent in silence. A peacekeeper led me from the room and out of the Justice Building. The other three tributes were all obviously crying and they didn't care if their tear stained faces were being broadcast on live television all over the nation. I did care. I held my chin up high and tried my best to give a haughty smile. I have to channel my inner asshole.

On the train though, where the cameras wouldn't reach us, I felt obligated to cry. During dinner though I stayed haughty.

"So, Haymitch, anyone special at home?" Ailia asked me. I shoved a forkful of brocoli into my mouth.

"Who can resist this?" I asked. I had to admit, I liked acting high and mighty.

Back in my room that night. I didn't care if anyone could hear, I had a full out bawl fest.

How'd you like it? Is it good or bad?

IF ANYONE ELSE HAS WRITTEN A FANFICTION WITH THE SAME CONCEPT, PLEASE TELL ME SO I CAN TAKE THIS DOWN. thanks:)

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!