He groaned and turned over on his side, then groaned again. Every movement made his head throb, reminding him of his ever-poor decision to have a couple of drinks last night. Okay. More than a couple of drinks. Maybe a couple of bottles...
Haymitch checked the time and saw that he had plenty of it. There was enough time before the ceremony to shower and sober up.
Ugh. Ceremony. The thought drew a disgusted look across his face.
He pushed himself up and groaned again, mentally scolding himself. He could hear Effie now: Haymitch Abernathy, can't you manage to keep yourself from wasting your life away for just a couple of weeks to help out our tributes?
Shut up, Effie, he thought bitterly. You damn Capitol wench.
He pushed his hair away from his face and looked around the room. One more year, two more tributes, and no more victors.
He felt a wave of guilty nausea drown him and he jumped up and ran into the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet and throwing up his bread and alcohol. They probably said that my year, he thought, then threw up again. Every year, he felt this guilt, yet he continued to think the same thing.
And every year, he was proved right.
Haymitch coughed and spit into the toilet, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve and flushed. He watched it go down and sighed, then stood up and turned the shower on. Every time, it reminded him of the showers in the Capitol, more specifically the three days before his trip to the arena. He couldn't understand the cruel fate that allowed him to win. He found himself often wishing that he hadn't ducked under her ax. It'd have been less painful and maybe his mother, his brother, and Miranda would still be alive...
He stripped and got into the cold shower. "Fuck," he gasped and turned the shower head away from him. "So much for special treatment..." He adjusted the water temperature and stuck his hand under the stream until it got hot.
He bathed quickly, but stayed in the shower a while longer and just let the water rush over his body. He felt tense and shaky and feverish and he didn't want to go this morning. He rested his forehead against the steamed tile and closed his eyes. At least I get to see Effie today, he thought, but was suddenly unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He sighed and reluctantly got out of the shower, then dressed quickly and nicely. He took a gulp of the whiskey sitting on his dresser for his headache and went into the kitchen to get something to eat. Just as he sat down with some toast and a cup of coffee, there was a knock at his front door.
"Haymitch!"
He groaned loudly (loud enough for her to hear) and rolled his eyes, then got up, making sure to rattle his dishes as he threw his hands on the table?
"Yes, Effie?" he asked upon opening the door.
"Oh, good, you're up," she said, inviting herself in and walking right past him. "I thought I might have to come wake you."
Haymitch sighed and closed the door. Bad thing. "You haven't had to wake me since you've started; what makes you think you'd have to start today?" he asked.
She shrugged stiffly and looked around, then scrunched up her nose. "Why does it always smell here?" she asked.
"It's coal-mining, Effie, it's going to—"
"I meant in your house, Haymitch. Why does it always smell in your house?" she asked.
Brash. Why are you so brash? "Wanna clean up for me, sweetheart?' he replied. "I'm sure you'd enjoy getting on your hands and knees." He smirked at her and left her standing there to finish (or start, rather) his breakfast.
Effie blushed and smacked his arm with her glove. "You're rude," she commented, stepping closer to the table.
"Thank you," he snickered. He glanced over at her and looked over this year's outfit. She had on a royal blue dress, fitted nicely against her body until about an inch and a half above her knee, where it flared awkwardly out into a flat, bouncy circle about a foot out around her legs. Her hair was done up in a style that Haymitch admittedly liked the most so far (probably because it was the most normal he'd ever seen on her); the hair on the sides of her head were pulled back in intricate twists and the rest looked daintily bunched up beneath it, leaving a few stray curls to fall past her ears. She had glitter all over her hair, though the color itself was a medium brown (he guessed this was her normal hair color) with random curls the shade of her dress. She had on her normal gaudy jewelry, which, of course, matched her outfit. Around her wrist was a bracelet of silver encased, rectangular-cut sapphires, all real, he guessed. Around her neck was something similar, and dangling from her ears were three of these rectangular-cut, silver encased sapphires on a silver chain, stacked the long way.
Haymitch's most prominent thought was of how heavy her jewelry must be.
Effie looked around a bit, shifting awkwardly.
He looked up at her again. "What's the matter?" he asked.
She shook her head and stayed quiet.
"Want some tea?" he asked.
She smiled a bit. "Please..."
"The kettle is on the stove, there's the sink, and the tea is in the cabinet to the left of it," he said.
She gasped, flabbergasted by his audacity. "Oh...well...I..." She huffed and looked at him expectantly.
He snorted. "Welcome to District 12, sweetheart," he said. He made no move to get up, but only planned to wait as long as it took to get a reaction out of her. Surprisingly enough, she moved around the table to make her own tea.
I should just let her, he thought. It'd be good for her. But as she grabbed the tea kettle, he got up. "I was kidding," he said, coming up behind her and reaching around to take it. "Go sit down." He nodded toward the table and gently pushed her away.
Effie looked at him before tentatively sitting down in the seat next to his. She sat stiffly, as if uncomfortable and watched Haymitch fill the kettle.
After putting it on the stove, he went to one of the cabinets and pulled out a box with different flavors of tea. "What kind do you want?" he asked.
"Do you have Bourbon Vanilla Chai?" she asked.
"I...what?" He looked through his box and scowled. "I don't have that. Where do you even—"
She shook her head and waved her hand. "It's from the Capitol," she said. "I expected that you would have it since they give you everything..."
"Actually, they don't," he said harshly.
She recoiled slightly and folded her hands in her lap. "Um...then...may I look?" she asked.
He sighed and put the box in front of her, then picked up his coffee cup and moved to stand by the window.
After a few minutes, she spoke up. "This one is fine," she said.
He turned around and took the box. "Hold onto it, then," he said, then put it away. He stared out the window until the kettle whistled, then poured her a cup of hot water and set it in front of her.
"Thank you, Haymitch," she said softly.
He nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
It was quiet for a while until Effie cleared her throat. "Uh, Haymitch, it's almost time to go," she said. "Are you going to finish eating?"
"I'm not hungry," he muttered.
She nodded slowly and got up. "Are you sure?" she asked as she picked up his plate.
"Yes, Ef," he sighed.
"Alright, alright." She dumped the cold, hard toast and stood next to him, holding her cup of tea in both hands. "Why don't you come to the Capitol?" she asked softly, looking out the window. She knew she was pushing it by asking, but she was curious.
He looked at her and frowned. "Are you kidding?" he said.
She looked over at him and shook her head. "No... I was being serious," she said. "Why would I be kidding?"
"Why would I live with the people who encouraged the death of me and 47 others?" Haymitch asked. "Why would I want to live with the people who created these fucking Games? Why would I want to live with the people who took my family from me?"
Effie was speechless for a moment, something he'd seen only once before. "Um... I don't know," she said.
"I wouldn't," he said. "I wouldn't..." He looked out the window again and into the trees that surrounded the District.
"Why do you see it that way?" she asked, looking over at him. She brought her teacup to her lips, but waited for his reaction (she expected a small explosion from him) to take a sip.
"Why wouldn't I see it that way?" he replied, looking over at her incredulously.
"Well, I didn't take your family," she said. "Why don't you come live with me?" She took a sip and peered over the rim of her cup at him.
He snorted. "Right. I can hardly stand a few weeks with you and you want me to come live with you 'round the clock?" he laughed. "You're crazier than I thought!"
She wasn't sure if she was supposed to take offense to that, but she didn't. She laughed and shook her head. "Well what did you expect?" she said. "Come on, we have to go."
Haymitch downed the rest of his coffee, and Effie did the same. They both put their cups in the sink and Haymitch grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. "Come on, then," he said and gestured widely to the door.
She dusted off her dress and walked across the room and out the door.
They walked in silence until they got to the stage that was set up. Haymitch walked between the ropes, glancing at each empty side as he passed. This whole thing disgusted him. He was supposed to pretend like it was a great thing that he survived and that he was a special person and that all these lies were truths. It disgusted him. He hopped up on stage, while Effie took the stairs, and sat down in the chair set out for him.
She leaned down close to him and whispered in his ear, "Don't make an ass of yourself today." She smirked, then moved up to the front of the stage to wait for the children to arrive.