Hi! So that's a short Hayffie one-shot, inspired by the song "Shake it out" by Florence and the Machine. I wrote it at something like 3 am yesterday ; please forgive the mistakes. :)
Since his games Haymitch had been dragging a bag of ghosts around. A bag full of skeletons, dark faces and dead smiles. He had never really survived the Games.
Some nights one of the skeletons would visit him: he would lay on him, scream into his ears and ask him why, oh why he, Haymitch, had killed him or let him die in the arena. Of all of them Maysilee was the worst: she would cry on his shoulder, kiss him on the cheeks and then try to strangle him, her sharp nails digging holes into his neck. That's only when he'd wake up, breathless, that she would eventually let go of him and sit in a corner, sobbing and whining loudly. Throwing objects at the ghosts wouldn't make them go away, neither would threats or screams. They had always haunted him since his Games, and they will always haunt them.
Eventually he found out that alcohol helped him a bit to forget. At least when he drank the faces of the dead tributes were blurred, their screams were silent. At least when he drank Maysilee didn't try to strangle him. Even her nails felt soft against her skin.
In spite of what everybody said, Haymitch wasn't an happy and proud victor; he wasn't a fullfilled man; he didn't feel whole nor like the king of the world. His world wasn't made of cand cottons, flowers and colours. His world was dark, deadly, broken and dull, his back aching from dragging his bag of ghosts around.
And then one day, twenty years after his games, a pink, bright, talkative and cheerful woman said her first "hello" to him. He first loathed her, of course: she was a clueless and heartless Capitol woman – a woman who had at one point of her life enjoyed watching Maysilee die. How could he like someone like that? He was happy when she was sad, delighted when she felt lost; he would laugh at her tears and make her life hell.
And he would drink, cry and hate everything and everyone, especially himself; and she would frown at him, try to cheer him up, try to make him do something of his life.
And then one day he realised that in spite of his rude and evil behaviour she was still here, still trying to cheer him up. He realised that she would never give up on him. That same day he heard for the first time of the rebellion.
One night she took his hand and he tasted her lips for the first time. That night Maysilee watched him with teary eyes and turned her back on him.
So the day Plutarch Heavensbee held out his hand to him and asked him if he would join the rebellion, if he would fight to bring the Capitol down, Haymitch eventually buried his bag of ghosts in the ground.
Because he would do anything for the once clueless and heartless Capitol woman.