A/N: Why hello! So, a few days ago I saw a Hayffie video using the song Nothing by The Script, and ever since then whenever I hear it I get flooded with Hayffie angst. So, it (along with Tonight I Wanna Cry by Keith Urban) inspired this little baby. Please note, this is my first Hayffie fic/I haven't written in a while/I cranked it out in like thirty minutes, so don't be too mean, 'kay?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Sadly.
Screwing his eyes shut, Haymitch slammed down his empty glass on the coffee table. When he slowly opened them a few seconds later, his vision was slightly blurry and everything was tilting. He stood up from the couch, swaying slightly. Chaff grabbed his arm as he stumbled past, looking up at him with a mix of sympathy and worry. "And where do you think you're going?" he asked, half worried. Haymitch yanked his arm out of his friend's hold with a grunt. "Don' worry 'bout it," he slurred.
Chaff grabbed Haymitch's arm again and tried to pull him back down onto the couch. "You're not going anywhere. Not right now." This earned Chaff a stare full of daggers from the drunken man. "Don't tell me what to do!" Haymitch yelled, before pulling out of his friends' grip once again. He didn't make it ten steps before tripping over his own feet and landing on his hands and knees roughly.
"I know exactly where you were going. And I'm not going to let you." Chaff got off the couch and guided Haymitch back towards it. "She's no good for you. I'm glad she finally broke it off. You two did nothing but fight."
Haymitch laughed bitterly. "'Broke it off'? You're implying that we were...together or something. I'd never even think about being with a shallow, stuck-up, materialistic Capitol woman like her." Haymitch reached for the bottle on the coffee table, but Chaff snatched it away. "No, Haymitch. Maybe you should go on up to bed."
Haymitch glared at him, shaking his head slightly. "Fuck off," he spat, before pushing himself off the couch and forcefully grabbing the bottle. He took a big swig before half-walking, half-stumbling to the elevator, missing the button to call it down a few times thanks to his vision. "Don't do it," Chaff warned. "Just accept that it's over, and leave her alone."
"That's not where I'm going!" He yelled over his shoulder as the elevator dinged, and he dizzily made his way into it, hitting the button for the penthouse with a little too much force. He focused his eyes just in time to see his friend shaking his head sadly before the doors slid shut.
Putting his hand on the wall to steady himself, Haymitch slowly inhaled deeply. He used the wall to help guide him down to the end of the hall, where he found a familiar door. He raised his fist, banging loudly on it. He heard a small "Coming!" from the other side, and allowed himself a small smile at the sound of her voice.
"Yes?" Effie curiously opened her door, head slightly tilted to the side. She couldn't figure out who would be knocking on her door, with everyone all tucked in for the evening. Her gaze hardened, and she pursed her lips when she saw the drunken man slumped against her door frame. "What do you want, Haymitch?"
"Jus'...wanted to see how you're doin'," he answered sloppily, taking a gulp from the bottle he clutched.
Effie folded her arms tightly. "I'm fine, thank you. There. You have what you came for. Now please leave." She stepped back and started to close her door, before Haymitch reached out and stopped it.
"Okay. Tha's not why I came. I wanted...I want to apologize for what I said, Effie. It was...rude." He half-smiled with what he intended to be a small joke, but Effie took as an insult, thinking he was mocking her.
"Haymitch," she said slowly, firmly, "there is nothing you could say to make me forgive you."
Wincing, Haymitch looked desperately into Effie's purple shadowed eyes. "Please, Effie. I'm begging." He held his breath; he didn't even dare blink. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize their eye contact.
Effie shook her head. "No. You can beg all you want, but you crossed the line. I'm sorry."
Puzzled, it was Haymitch's turn to cock his head slightly. "Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything. I'm the one who fucked up." He automatically took a drink, and regretted it instantly.
Sighing, Effie shifted her eyes to the bottle. "Yes, you did. But I'm sorry for your life. I'm sorry that you're such a resentful man, who relies on liquor to get through the day. I'm sorry that you're always so angry at the world. And..." her voice trailed off, as she dropped her eyes to the floor. "and I'm sorry that I loved you." She finished quietly. Even in Haymitch's intoxicated state, he still managed to hear it. "Effie, I did...I still do love you. Please."
Effie flickered her gaze up to his, eyes glistening. "I told you, Haymitch," she said, her voice softer. "No." Haymitch dropped his arm to his side, his eyes empty. Effie took this opportunity to shut her door tightly.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned around, leaned against her door, and slowly slid down to the ground. He lifted his bottle in front of his face, swirling the clear liquid around and around and around. "Here's to you, princess," he whispered, before putting it to his lips and draining it.
Why did I make my first Hayffie fic such a sad one? Ugh. I debated on maybe fleshing it out a bit, but decided not to. I think it's okay as is. Short and sweet (sour?). So yes, or no? Let me know what you think, you sexy beasts.