prompt : May I prompt? In a lot of chapters they fight on a daily basis. Could you write one where they are living in 12 together and then have a huge fight? A really huge one? I'm in for some angst as long as there is hope in the end.

Breaking Point

He didn't know how they had gotten to that point.

They fought a lot, sure, always had and probably always would, but it had been years since they had found themselves glaring at each other like that, out of breath, crushing shards of broken glass from a vase she had thrown at the wall in her fury under their shoes. Since before the rebellion probably.

He knew it was going too far and one of them needed to back down now before it got worse. He was heaving with anger as it was, his fists were clenched at his sides and he couldn't remember for the life of him what they had initially been talking about or why it had slowly escalated to shouts about him leaving her behind during the war. That wasn't a topic they addressed often. It had been swept under the rug after the rebellion for necessary survival : she needed him, he needed her, there had been no time for resentment and grudges.

He sensed the change in her before it actually happened. Suddenly, all her fury deflated. The anger on her face quickly morphed into a smooth mask of detachment he knew belonged to the escort she wasn't anymore.

"This isn't working." she said flatly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

She stepped around him and he watched her leave the living-room, unable to make sense of her words.

"What's not working?" he frowned, his voice hoarse from too much shouting.

"Us." she declared quietly, disappearing down the corridor.

He heard her soft footsteps taking the stairs two at a time and he stared at the broken shards on the floor. He crouched and picked them up, wondering if they could glue them together again or if it was simply too shattered for that. She loved that vase.

He didn't go upstairs until he had picked every last piece and had carefully put them aside. He wanted a glass but he didn't pour himself one, knowing it would only start another argument. He could drink later and he figured she had had enough time to cool down.

He wasn't expecting to find their bedroom upside down, clothes thrown everywhere – he was usually the one making a mess, she was the one lecturing him about clothes hampers – open suitcases on the bed and Effie hastily cleaning the dressing table from all her beauty products. She paused when she spotted him on the threshold, a bottle of perfume in her hand – a bottle of perfume he had gifted her with – the other still in the vanity case she was so busy packing. She paused but it didn't last long, she started placing everything down in her vanity again. Her moves were quick and mechanical.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked even though he knew what she was doing. It was obvious what she was doing.

"I am going to spend the night at the children's and I will take the first train tomorrow. You can send me the rest of my things at your leisure." she retorted.

"You're not leaving." he scoffed. "Stop acting like you're leaving. We both know you're going to spend the night at the kids' and then come back tomorrow morning like nothing has happened. Save yourself the trouble of packing."

That had happened a few times too.

He had never believed her when she said she was leaving. Where would she go? She needed the kids in her life. She needed Haymitch. They were her family. She had nothing left in the Capitol. She had nothing left anywhere.

She licked her lips nervously. "Not this time."

He had never believed her before.

He crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed her arm – not strongly enough to hurt, he would never hurt her, but he wanted her attention. There was a flash of alarm on her face but it quickly turned to annoyance and then sorrow.

"You're not leaving." he said again.

"I am." she countered. "We do not make sense. This isn't working. We spend our time fighting."

"We always fought." he pointed out.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head, placing her free hand on his chest. "Yes, but I am not twenty-three anymore. It isn't the turn on it used to be."

"Effie…" he growled.

"We are not in a no-string-attached relationship anymore!" she insisted. "We are not… We are supposed to be partners, we are supposed to live together and make each other happy and instead we are making each other miserable. You can't bear my nagging about your drinking and I can't bear watching you throwing your life down the drain like you do. I… I can't watch you drink yourself into an early grave. I am sorry, I can't."

He stood there, stunned and frozen, wishing she had slapped him instead.

"I'm making your miserable?" he snorted bitterly.

She looked up, her face softening. "Not all the time, there are good moments." Her hand left his chest for his cheek. "I love you. I love you but you can't tell me you wouldn't be happier alone, you are always telling me just how easier it would be if I wasn't here."

"'Cause I'm stupid and I talk without thinking." he snapped. "You know I don't mean it when I say that. You know I…"

He came to a stop, unable to say it even now.

"No, I don't." She shook her head and dropped her hand. "Perhaps it is part of the problem. You had no qualm leaving me behind during the war, you took me in afterwards, but… I feel like I'm still the escort you're screwing because it is easier than going out and finding a one-night stand. I feel like I'm convenient."

"Sweetheart, you've never been anything but inconvenient." he scoffed, squeezing her arm softly. "You and your bloody colors and your ridiculous clothes and that fucking perkiness…"

"See?" She forced a smile on her lips but her eyes were shining with tears. "Living together was a mistake. We are good together for the occasional affair but you don't love me, Haymitch. You like me, you are fond of me like one would be of a pet but you do not…"

"That's bullshit." he called, shaking her a little. "You're inconvenient, that's the whole point, Effie." His voice grew desperate. "I want you. I need you. You're not leaving. Being alone, that's what made me miserable, not you."

"You shouldn't be scared of being alone. The children…" she argued.

"I'm not talking about the kids." he shouted right in her face. She flinched so he lowered her voice. "Effie, I can't do it without you."

It was a confession he wasn't happy to make. He hated showing any sign of weakness. He hated putting himself out there, exposing his belly for people to claw at it.

She studied him for a few seconds and then looked down, gently prying his fingers away from her arm. "You don't mean it."

She wasn't expecting the kiss, he could tell, but he was out of options and kissing her had always been a good way to settle arguments in the past. Except it didn't work because instead of pushing him away – which would have only lead to her pulling him to her again – she immediately responded to the kiss and it felt like goodbye. It tasted like goodbye.

"I left you behind so you would be safe." he growled against her lips. "I left you behind because as much as I wanted you with me I didn't want to risk you being arrested or killed by those rebels. I left you behind because I…" Again, the words remained stuck in his throat. "Effie, I…" He opened and closed his mouth a few times, willing the sentiment out but failing to express it. In the end, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling dejected. "Don't leave me."

He was begging.

He never thought he would ever beg anyone for anything.

He kissed her again and again until it grew heated and he felt on a more familiar ground. They tore at each other clothes, and she pushed him on the bed – he couldn't help a yelp when his back collided with her open suitcase but that made her giggle so he supposed it was alright. He made sure to be extra-thoughtful like he wasn't always, he made sure it was exceptionally good for her. He didn't know how else to say he was sorry.

Still, even afterwards, once they were snuggled close to each other, skin on skin, his heart kept on racing with anguish.

"This wasn't a last bang for the road, yeah?" he frowned. "You're not… You're staying, sweetheart, right?"

She took too long to answer and, when she did, it was a whisper against his neck. "I am staying for now but… This can't go on as it is, Haymitch. We need to learn how to coexist properly, I can't take the constant fighting."

"Okay." he agreed at once. He knew it would be more complicated than that but he was willing to do anything to keep her. He would try, he decided. He would even cut out on the liquor.

For her, he would try.