I finally got round to re-writing the sequel to Broken Bottles! The first attempt didn't go so well, so I deleted it and started again. i quite like this first chaper and I hope you guys do too!

I'm unsure whether to keep this going as one long story or have it in a series of one-shots based on various moments in their relationship...let me know which I should do :D

Here's chapter 1!

Chapter 1

I watch as his brows furrow in his sleep. Every so often, he'll wince or move suddenly. As if he's fighting off something only he can see.

Which he is.

I never understood Haymitch's nightmares until now. I never had nightmares of my own until the day I had to reap Katniss, Peeta and possibly Haymitch once more. Everything in my life had been perfect up until the day of the Quell announcement. I had money, friends, a good social network, a career I enjoyed. However, since Snow stood up at that podium in the Capitol and announced the tributes for the 75th Games would be reaped from the existing pool of victors, too much fear and upset became embroiled in my happiness.

Haymitch was the only one out of our little team who really understood what was going through my head, even if I didn't understand it myself. He'd always tell me he was somewhat of a veteran of darkening thoughts and nightmares. Despite his arrogance, overall lack of care and rudeness, he did try to make things easier for me. He'd hold me when I cried, tell me everything was going to be okay despite knowing deep down that it wasn't.

He asks me not to wake him when he's in the clutches of a nightmare. He says it's better just to let him ride it out. Something about recurring dreams. He thinks that if he can get through the nightmare, see it through to the end, he won't experience it again. If I wake him, he says the nightmare will only come back to conclude itself another night. Better get it over with when it first happens.

It's painful to simply lie by his side when he goes through a bad dream and not be able to do anything. But I respect his wishes. As much as it kills me, I don't want him to go through the same dream twice.

The lines that mark his face relax eventually, allowing him to sleep somewhat peacefully…at least until the next nightmare manifests itself.

Despite his requests for me not to wake him, I still ensure I lie as close to him as possible. Not that I don't anyway, I need him too. But I need to be close to him so that, when he wakes up, he knows I'm there. Though selfish it may sound of me to admit this, I suspect his nightmares are usually about me. He'll say that he has nightmares about the fact I moved to District 12 with him. But sometimes he shouts for me, so I know he's lying. I can tell by the way he wakes up most mornings. He'll stare at me for a few moments, as if confirming in his head that whatever happened to me during his dream hasn't happened in real life. Then he'll reach for the flask of white liquor he leaves beside his side of the bed.

He's not the drunk he used to be, but he still relies heavily on drinking. He doesn't spend all day every day drinking like he did before the rebellion and there's only been a couple of occasions when he's been outright drunk. But he's getting better.

So that's how it goes every morning. But I can't imagine waking up any other way.

Not now.

xXx

I wake when I feel the weight of an extra blanket draped over me. Haymitch notices I'm awake.

"You looked cold," he says.

"Hmm," I yawn. "What's this? Haymitch Abernathy is awake before me."

"Actually, it's 11am," he smiles, a little too forcibly. "Thought you'd want to sleep in."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You're up to something," I say. "What have you done?"

"It's not that big of a deal," he rubs the back of his neck. "I can fix it."

"Haymitch."

"It's only a vase. If I get-"

"Which vase did you break, Haymitch?"

"Um…"

"If it's the beautiful one my mother gave me when I got the job as escort, so help me I will get on the very first train back to the Capitol!"

Haymitch stares at the floor at his feet, a look of guilt I've seen him wear many times since I moved to 12.

"You shouldn't have brought a ton of breakable stuff with you…" he tries to justify what happened.

"I'm going to kill you," I sigh.

"Wouldn't bet on it," he smirks.

I decide to let it slide. It really is my own fault for bringing so many breakable valuables with me when I was moving in with a man who's very rarely steady on his feet.

Haymitch sits down on the bed beside me, leaning against the headboard. I turn over to face him.

"We should go do something," I say.

"What were you thinking?"

"Anything."

Since I moved to 12 three months ago, I've been desperate to not waste a single day. Whether it be a walk, a trip to some of the shops in the merchant part of the District…I always feel the need to go out and do something. Maybe it's because I have very little experience of the District itself apart from my visits on Reaping Days or for the Tour, or perhaps it's because staying in the house all day every day makes me remember those weeks I was imprisoned in the Capitol.

"Why don't we just stay here for once?" Haymitch suggests. "I mean, it's raining."

"I have an umbrella," I begin to argue but Haymitch cuts me off.

"When's this gonna stop, Effs?" He sighs. "You can't spend every day running around the District. You're gonna be here for quite a while, so just take your time."

"But-"

"It's exhausting."

"Well I didn't ask you to come with me," I say, sounding like a petulant child.

"I know. But lets just stay here for once. I'm pretty sure normal couples don't-"

"What did you just say?"

"Let's stay here?"

"No, after that. What did you say?"

"Well I was gonna say I'm pretty sure normal couples don't run around everywhere every day, before you rudely interrupted me."

"So you're acknowledging it now?" I smile.

"The couple thing?" He looks at me curiously. "Well, yeah. Unless you have other ideas about our arrangement."

"No, no," I say, closing my eyes again. "I think I like this whole 'couple' thing quite a lot."

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