"How are you, boy?"

"Hi, Haymitch."

"You didn't answer me. How are you?"

"I'm..." Heartbroken? Crushed? Dead inside? "I'm okay."

He sits down beside me, a strange but not uncomfortable silence between us. He takes several sips from his glass before speaking again.

"I'm just now realizing you haven't been playing the romance up. You've been holding back."

I nod.

"I'm sorry for presenting you two together from the start. I knew you had an eye on her but I didn't know how deep it was. This whole mess stemmed from that."

"My emotions are hardly more important than both of us being alive, the first two people to survive the Games together. You saved both your tributes, Haymitch."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I don't want to see either of you go the way of many victors, from years of being alone without anyone that really understands. Look at me. Particularly you, boy. You survived without blood on your hands but the horrors are there all the same. You're innocent." I frowned.

"I killed Foxface."

"She killed herself. You believe someone as brilliant as her would accidentally eat deadly berries? It was a far easier death than one Cato would have dealt. Eliminates all the risk, she knew the possibilities of dying a gruesome painful death were higher than the possibilities that she could win."

"She would have contributed so much to Panem if she could have won."
"She was too smart to win, she could have destroyed much of the Capitol's technology. She was reaped intentionally. As was your girl. Snow couldn't let her continue to hunt outside of the District. Thresh was no accident, same for about half of the tributes most years."
"When does it end?"
"Not until something bigger comes along."
We stay silent as his answer hangs in the air. We both know that anything else said regarding some kind of rebellion is considered treason and we would probably be arrested and possibly have our tongues cut out, despite our victor status. You're only safe while you're not a threat. Unless you're a child. Then you're put into the Games. He finally speaks.

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you hidden it?" I suddenly know what he's asking.

"11 years." I laugh once without humor. "11 years watching her and wondering if she'll ever notice me... Or recently, wondering why she's kissing me, why she smiles at me... Wondering if she is getting better at acting or if that's just my wishful thinking inserting her actions with something that isn't there." I sighed heavily. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. If Katniss asks, she's welcome." I turn back again before I leave. "Haymitch?" He takes a long pull of his drink and looks like he is somehow feeling some of the pain that I feel.

"What?"

"Don't say this to Katniss please. I don't want her to feel like she's using me."

"She is using you."

"What I mean is I don't want her to do things for me because she feels sorry for me. Because I know she doesn't love me, but pity makes it so much worse."

"Okay, I won't say anything about this."

"Thanks." I'm out the door and halfway down the hall when he calls out to me again.

"Boy? Listen to me. She may not love you like you love her, but she does care a great deal about you. In a different world... A different world would have you two very happy together." He lifts his drink to the thought and takes another drink before disappearing again.