Well I decided to continue due to all you amazing people. I send peace and prosperity; smile today because people look best when they smile.
"Why is love dimmed by the knowledge that there is absolutely no chance the person loves you back?"-Daniel Handler
Cameras flash and it makes her vision blurry. The sun like flash makes her cringe even with her best smile. Thin arm intertwined in his as they stride through the cameras. Questions are thrown and Haymitch bites his tongue. Effie glances at him in warning, making sure he's on best behavior.
They cannot look at each other, not after last night.
Effie can remember the repulsing taste and smell on the alcohol.
Haymitch has the image of her face smeared in the makeup and tears on replay in his head. Her deep brown curls are imprinted in memory. Not in a way of lust or admiration, shame really. Because he had almost broke her, fully that night. Left her naked and exposed, but she stood tall and cried. Haymitch cannot drown his guilt without the drinks. The need to forget how he has humiliated the woman holding his arm, burns hot in his mind.
Both of them cannot stop thinking of what he has done though.
Haymitch has complicated everything. That kiss will be the death of the comfortable anger they hold toward each other. Now there is a barrier between them, now they must move on even though the memory clings.
Finally they are through the cameras and into some other expensive building. The walls gleam and shimmer but it's so plastic and uninviting no one stays long. Peace keepers escort them to their train to return to their homes.
First we have an empty mansion for one drunken man who is trying to forget the world. Then there's the manner dripping capitol apartment for an insecure woman just trying to live with her nightmares.
"Sweetheart." Haymitch growls softly.
Effie doesn't respond. Not now, she will not argue and embarrass herself in front of people.
Especially not important people.
The conflicted and guilt ridden couple follow men in blinding white suits. Haymitch can feel the lust for the whiskey and gin as he imagines shooting them with their own guns. Effie day dreams of never taking this job and new shoes. The shoes are just another way to distract from the emptiness and feelings of wanting something more.
Effie looks up to Haymitch.
But she doesn't have to look she knows him by memory.
Sinful and regretful orbs of blue, most of the time glazed over by intoxication. With Haymitch you also receive plain dirt blonde hair, accompanied by the scruffy five o'clock shadow. Special dose of fair skin made sun drenched by running for his life. Finally bags from the lack of sleep he gets from images and fears made by something that is supposed to be a game.
Effie doesn't understand why she feels something for this jackass. Nothing to offer her, mother has taught her better. But somehow his pain draws her she wants to blow of the dust and shine the silver. But Haymitch is a piece of silver painted in spikes. Who wants to clean that?
"Sweetheart, hello?" Haymitch says again with a little agitation within his voice.
"Yes." Effie says through gritted teeth.
He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the peace keeper, the man with the gun on his hip smirks like he knows how much Haymitch itches to do something.
"Your train Mrs. Trinket and Mr. Abernathy, have a nice trip home."
Effie smiles so much charisma it seems to drool insincerity. Expressing excitement and gratitude Effie gushes. Haymitch nods briskly and opens the cart door for her. They step on floors that if sold could feed half of district twelve well. Times like these make Haymitch feel the worse. They are alone but only for seconds as ridiculously dressed stylists rush into the cart.
The stylists have an unreal amount of pity and grief for the loss of this year's children. Dressed in black with stupid as hell accessories they bow their heads.
"Oh Effie were so sorry. We thought we really got winners this year."
Effie smiles sadly a stylist shoves a black rose into her gloved hand. The sight causes a deep rush of emotion and she has the urge to fling it back in the woman's face. But she doesn't, Effie slips it nicely on the table with a false grin. Haymitch doesn't save time for the bullshit and shoves it back into the stylist's hands.
An angry frown is given to Haymitch and he abandons Effie's side to search for anything to erase the pain.
"May we be alone a moment?" Effie commands but it seems like a request.
Nether less they skitter from the room of mahogany, and jewels, leaving the two empty people alone. Haymitch groans in frustration when he cannot find liquor and Effie settles onto one of the cushions. Effie shoves off the heels and gently places them in a shoe slot. Haymitch glances over and their eyes meet.
Quickly they flitter away; sometimes it's too much to look at someone who you left standing alone. Effie pulls her feet up on the cushion ignoring the mental protest on manners. Haymitch finally rises and walks over to her.
Effie physically recoils from Haymitch and he glare at her from his five foot distance. Awkward and uncomfortable silence sits between them like a wall. Effie does her best not to look at him, or allow herself to care anymore. No, no reason to care, Haymitch would never care much less want her back. That kiss was just passions running high and angry motives to break her more.
Haymitch sits beside her and yanks off the wig.
Effie yells in protest and stops fighting and throws the wig down in anger.
"I'm not good enough for you huh? I can't even sit here at peace without you ripping off my dignity. Fucking hell, Haymitch!"
Effie spats and Haymitch narrows his eyes.
Then he smirks, it is an image of challenge and Effie wrings her hands out.
"Calm down princess. No need to get worked up about the kids. If you were not their escort you would have never given a second glance."
"Neither would have you, you drunk."
Effie feels anger explode in her like an explosive and she roughly grabs Haymitch's collar. Effie glares into his eyes, her capital diet body straddling his. Haymitch still hasn't reacted, as the brown locks of his college brush his face. Effie's body is spread across his; she's in control but doesn't know what to do. Haymitch can feel the dark urge bubbling up again as her torso presses against his.
"This is your god damn fault for making me confused. I hate you Haymitch. I hate what you have made me!"
Effie spats and slams her coral lipstick lips on his. The kiss has the same intensity but now Haymitch can feel the kiss in its true form. Effie's hands are rough and punishing. Long nails scrape his neck as she curses between kisses and he clamps his hand on her scalp.
Bodies pulsing with confused and forbidden desire Effie can feel tears form in her eyes.
She realizes he doesn't care and now she's given in. Now she's just another capital slut. With this image and degrading feeling, Effie whispers "I hate you".
Haymitch can't stop, but he needs to. This is not another woman to him; he can't ruin what he has going for him with this tension. He's made her even more humiliated and guilty; he can feel her tears on his skin.
Haymitch stops her and wipes her tears hastily and rushes out of the cart, as Effie curls into herself crying.