Thank you all for your lovely reviews, it made my day. Also, thanks for putting it on favourites & alerts. So here's chapter 2!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Chapter 2
The sunlight filtered through his window panes, lighting up the dark and gloomy bedroom. On the bed, tangled in the sheets, Haymitch was with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand dangling on the side of his bed, drunk as a lord.
Peeta pushed the door open and stepped into the room, shaking his head at the sight in front of him. He maneuvered between Haymitch's dirty clothes strewn all over the floor and his empty liquor bottles.
"Hey, wake up. Wake up, Haymitch," Peeta said, as he shook Haymitch's shoulder gently.
Haymitch stirred and cracked open one eye, "What?"
"It's noon."
"Yeah?" he asked, as he slowly untangled his limbs from the sheets, rubbing his tired eyes.
Ever since Effie left, his life had descended into a whirlwind of chaos. He drank even more than he did before and he hardly got out of his house unless it was to get more alcohol. He bought geese and reared them in his backyard to distract himself. It didn't help much because he soon discovered that these geese could take care of themselves quite well. Like Effie, he smirked to himself.
XxX
Effie had been living with him for less than two years since the Rebellion ended and in that short space of time, he had grown to depend on her presence. The house was too quiet without her constant chattering, and too messy without her obsessive neat for organization and cleanliness. He realized, with a start, that he actually missed that stick in the mud, the one person he never thought he'd develop feelings for.
He cursed a few times when he tripped over his own mess. Effie would have laughed at him and told him he deserved every bruise he got if he tripped over something he had flung on the floor.
Sometimes, he would walk into the kitchen expecting Effie to be there with a ladle in her hand, an apron covering her dress while she read from an old recipe book that once belonged to his mother. She would bite her lips, her eyebrows burrowing in concentration as she tried to make sense of the recipe. She was attempting to distract herself by picking up a new hobby after the Rebellion. Her cooking would usually turn out to be total, complete disasters and Haymitch took the utmost sadistic pleasure in telling her as much.
She would throw her head back and laugh; warm, throaty expressions of humour would fill the air, as his face morphed into an expression of disgust.
"Tell me, sweetheart, do you hate me that much that you insist on poisoning me almost every single damned time?" he asked as he gulped down a mouthful of coffee to offset the offending taste of her cooking.
"Your words against mine, dear. Nobody will believe me capable of such things," she replied sweetly as she leaned forward and kissed his lips.
She would be back in the kitchen soon enough attempting another recipe. She never gave up, never, except maybe, recently, on him. Then again, he realized, he might be a lost cause.
He would blink in surprise when he realized she wasn't there, and his mood turned foul for the rest of the day, unleashing a torrent of violent curses at anything or anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Katniss and Peeta learned long ago to leave him alone when he was in one of his moods, having been privy to him lashing out and upending furniture.
Haymitch Abernathy missed her, more than he would care to admit.
Walking out onto his porch, he sat on the bench and gazed out into the distance. His eyes fell on the swing that Peeta had made for her on that giant old tree, swinging gently in the wind. He frowned, remembering how she had always enjoyed sitting on it, swinging softly as she rested her head on the thick woolen rope.
Beautiful, he often thought as he watched the wind gently blowing against her blonde curls. She would turn to him when she noticed him leaning against the doorway observing her and offered a small smile. He remembered how she'll walk up to him and wrap her arms around his neck, standing on tip toes to plant a soft kiss of his lips.
"I love you, Haymitch," she would tell him softly.
He shut his eyes at that memory, willing it to go away. He thought about her often, and he spent quite a number of times pacing in front of his phone mentally debating with himself if he should call her. Once, he had even summed up enough courage to make the call before he realized he didn't know her number. I don't even know where she lives, now, snarling, before slamming the phone down in frustration.
XxX
It was nearly half a year since she left. He found out from Peeta and Katniss, whom Effie apparently kept in touch with, that she was working under President Paylor, as a personal secretary under recommendation of Plutarch Heavensbee.
"She's doing well. Moved into a new apartment, she told me. Got a cat she named Ms Nugget," Peeta told him as they sat on his porch.
He spat out the whiskey he was drinking and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand upon hearing the name Effie gave her new pet cat. "Ms… Ms Nugget, you said?" he chuckled heartily to himself, "Stupid name, stupid name for a cat," he commented.
"She ever asked about me?" he glanced up at Peeta, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"No. No, never," Peeta shook his head at him, "Can I ask you something?"
Peeta took his silence as consent for him to continue, "What happened? Between you two? I mean, the both of you have always managed to … you know, settle your differences. Why did she leave, so suddenly?"
He ignored Peeta.
"Just – It's the alcohol, isn't it?" he asked softly. Haymitch gave a curt nod.
"She needed to you, the way you needed the alcohol. You were her strength, her light. I don't know, maybe even her hope that she could lead a normal life, in a way, after all that's happened to her."
That night, with the full moon shining brightly in the skies above, Peeta told him whatever he knew about Effie's time being imprisoned in the Capitol.
"I was in the cell next to her. Even with the tracker jacker's venom in me, I could hear her screaming, screaming so loud. She whispered your name at night, I don't even think she realized that herself. The guards would laugh at her, taunting her about how nobody would come to save her."
Haymitch clenched his fist as the visual image of Effie's torture invaded his mind.
"You know… I've always wondered if there was more going on between the both of you. I mean, you both have been working together for years."
Haymitch listened as Peeta told him how he would sit with his back pressed against the wall, next to the cold steel bars whispering to Effie who did the same in her cell next door, trying to keep each other sane.
"I think… I've always believed that the thought of being able to see you again kept her alive. The same way the thought of seeing Katniss again kept me going… before they messed up my memory of her, of course." He told him.
"But hey, don't listen to me. I am a hopeless romantic, you're just a tough guy who swears he was better off on his own, right?" he teased Haymitch.
They fell silent; listening to the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the occasional voice of someone talking as they walked passed Victors Village.
"You're miserable, Haymitch. Everyone can tell. Effie's miserable, too. She just masks it well, I know it, I know her." Peeta spoke once again.
It was then that Haymitch did something unexpected, he turned to Peeta, and softly uttered two words that Peeta had not been expecting, "Help me."
"For real this time, Haymitch," Peeta said, looking at him earnestly.
"Yeah," he nodded, determination etched on his face. "I… I want her back. I want Effie back, but I can't – Not when I'm like this, look at me, I'm a mess," he gestured at himself, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.
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