Ugh, leave it to me to face palm on the first chapter. Obviously, I meant "consume" not "concern". Oh well, I'm sure you understood. Better attention this round.
Effie didn't make it very far off of the porch before she realized that she was in her not-so-modest night gown. Embarrassed, though no one was around, she immediately turned back around and stormed up the stairs to change.
She was completely naked and rummaging around for a sun dress that would properly hide her scars before Haymitch barged in, causing her to scream and reach for her comforter, pulling the pink silk off the bed and quickly covering herself with it.
"HAYMITCH WILLIAM ABERNATHY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARGING IN HERE?"
"Shut up, it's not a new sight. Not very pleasing either, so don't let your head inflate any further," he said, referring to when he found her half starved to death, tortured, bleeding, broken, and very nude, crumpled in the corner of President Snow's basement. He immediately pushed the memory away as she flinched at it. He ignored the far away look in her blue eyes.
"What do you want?" She snapped. "I don't have any alcohol, so you may as well just go to The Hob."
"Look, you insufferable smart ass," he said, finger pointed at her face as he got in her face, his breath smelling of stale whiskey. "If I'm going to put up with your screaming and crying in your sleep and your obnoxious attitude when you're awake, I'm going to at least need a drink every now and again. If you've got a problem with it, well too fucking bad. You're not my mother, you're not my wife, you're a guest in my home. If you're lucky, I'll tuck you in before I drown you out. If not, well tough luck!" He finished, waving his dirty, calloused finger past her now upturned button nose.
"Fine!" She screamed, her Capitol accent making him want to pull his sandy colored, chin length hair out, "But let's get one thing clear. You will not, nor will you ever, "tuck me in". I don't need you, you... you... ARROGANT FUCK!" She yelled, the curse word shocking her as much as it did him, his grey eyes as wide as quarters as hers narrowed into thin slits.
"Now, now, dear. Manners," he mocked her, before turning around and leaving, slamming the door behind him.
The rest of the day passed with the two avoiding each other, Effie not even bothering to come back down to make dinner, leaving Haymitch to his own devices for the first time since she arrived there. She constantly reminded herself that she didn't need him and that she could wait until he went to bed before eating. She fell asleep long before he did though, her angry tears putting her to sleep before she could even stop her eyelids from closing.
Haymitch was sitting in the living room, his mind elsewhere, bottle in hand when the screams started around three in the morning. He shifted on the dirty, tan couch uncomfortabley, taking a big swig from the bottle of whiskey he'd purchased at The Hob, per her reccommendation.
He ignored her for ten long, agonizing minutes, replaying their arguement over and over again in his head, purposefully leaving out the brief second of her nudity. He knew if he wanted to be successful in ignoring the wench he couldn't think of her that way.
"Haymitch," she cried, still sleeping. She sounded so scared, so desperate, stirring something inside of Haymitch.
"God, dammit," he said, running his fingers through his hair before gruffly getting up and dragging himself up the stairs.
He walked into her room and stopped to look at her, taking a swig from the bottle still in hand. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, the sleeves of his white button down shoved up to his elbows.
He kicked the bed frame.
"Wake up," he said loudly.
She stirred a little, but was still out like a light.
Well, at least now she's quiet, he thought, turning to walk out before she let out an ear shattering scream of pain before falling silent again.
'I don't need you!' He remembered her words, before spitefully storming out and slamming the door behind him.
He trudged back down the stairs, his boots leaving muddy marks in the carpet. He had every intention on walking into the living room and sitting back down. Instead, he didn't turn left as he had originally anticipated. He kept going straight, right out the front door, not even bothering to lock it behind him.
His feet carried him to The Hob before he even knew where they were taking him. It looked so different from before the uprisings, it still being rebuilt. It'd never be the same though. Even the feeling of it was different. It was legal now, taking away some of the appeal of strolling in there brashly.
Doesn't need me, he thought bitterly. Yeah, right. I'll show that ole basket case just how much she needs me, he thought, sitting down in front of Greasy Sae and ordering a jar of moonshine.
Greasy Sae handed him the old Mason after using her sleeve to wipe off some of the dust. He tilted the jar back, some of the burning liquid making its way into his system, some of it only pouring down the front of him. He could practically hear Effie's voice chastising him for his bad manners. Nagging wench.
He took the jar away from his face, his breath harsh and ragged.
"Evening, Haymitch," a familiar voice said from his right.
He turned his head to see Gale Hawthorne, identical jar in hand.
"Evening," he replied, shocked to see him in District 12 at all.
Gale didn't say anything, just took another sip of the liquid, clearly new at the concept of getting over someone.
"What brings you home?" Haymitch asked after fifteen minutes of uncomfortable silence.
"What do you think?" Gale asked harshly, young drunk man taking in the sight of the older one.
"Hmph. Just forget her. They're never worth it," Haymitch replied, his voice stoney.
"You'll never understand, Haymitch. Katniss... Well, that girl's my best friend..."
"Oh... Oh, I understand," Haymitch replied almost bitterly, thinking of a rather obnoxious blonde woman who was currently sleeping in his guest bedroom. "I understand completely," he sighed, taking another swig.
Gale looked away confused, but too uninterested to bother asking.