Prompt: So I have a hayffie prompt that's kinda just a sentence "she didn't know he loved her and that was really the main problem wasn't it?" Do with this as you will

Let's

"It's more complicated than that."

"I think it is very simple actually."

They were at a dead-end.

Haymitch took a deep shaky breath as they stared at each other, the intensity in Effie's blue eyes was almost enough to make him flee. He couldn't though. Not now. If he ran away now… Everything was over.

Damn the Capitol. Damn Snow. Damn Coin. Damn Katniss. Damn everything.

He didn't want to go back to Twelve of all places.

He didn't want to go back to his small life in self-imposed prison.

"It's not my idea, sweetheart." he insisted. "If I could choose…"

"Am I supposed to believe you would stay in the Capitol with me?" she snorted, in a tone that implied he was being ridiculous.

She brought the cigarette to her lips – her third since the beginning of that conversation and he tried, again, not to notice the state of her apartment, the boarded windows she didn't have enough money to replace, the bottles of pills littering the coffee table, the ashtray full to the brim – and blew out the smoke slowly, staring straight at him. He figured she was trying to annoy him because she knew he hated it when she smoked.

It was a provocation and a challenge all rolled into one. Her mouth formed a O as she slowly let the smoke out, letting it mask her face, adding to the not quite pleasant surrounding smell.

He couldn't leave her here.

Not in the state she was in.

Not again.

"If there was room for me." he shrugged. "Yeah. I would."

She burst out laughing.

It wasn't one of her fake laughs but it wasn't a genuine one either. It was a broken little thing of a laugh, bitter and rough around the edges. Mocking and cruel.

"Please." she spat. "You could not even be bothered to have me protected during this little rebellion of yours and now you would suddenly stay with me in a place you hate beyond measure?" She sneered at him before taking another drag of her cigarette. "Keep your pity and make peace with your guilty conscience on your own terms. I am not interested. If that is all now…"

Her arm outstretched in the vague direction of the door, her intent clear, but he was rooted to the spot. He had had to fight to be allowed in, he had been forced to coax and plead and to put his weight against the door so she would be forced to step back.

She hadn't wanted anything to do with him since a few days after her rescue, when she had become lucid enough to realize who was to blame.

He had tried to respect her wishes, to give her space…

But he needed her.

And he suspected she needed him.

And…

"Effie…"

It sounded desperate to his own ears, almost begging. He wanted to tell her it wasn't pity or a guilty conscience. He wanted to tell her about the nights without sleep spent thinking about her, imagining her tortured or dead, picturing his life empty of her and realizing just how unbearable that would be. He wanted to tell her all that and a thousand other things, like how much he loved that she couldn't function in the morning if she hadn't drunk her two cups of coffee, how much he loved the way her real hair looked in the direct light of the sun, how cute he found it that she bit on her bottom lip when she was thinking hard about something, how…

"Please, leave." she sighed. "There is nothing more to discuss. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop about Katniss but you could just as well leave a message. I…"

"Come with me."

His voice rang loud in the room, more confident than he felt. He was almost surprised by the words that came out of his mouth.

He thought she would laugh again but she remained deadly serious instead, her lips half-opened, forming a word she hadn't had time to utter. She closed her mouth slowly and licked her lipstick-free lips.

"Do not do that to me." she hissed. "Do not dare toy with my feelings just so you can blame yourself a little less. Do not…"

"Come with me." he repeated. "I'm serious. Come with me."

The pain in her eyes was almost too much to bear.

She didn't believe he was sincere.

I need you, he should have said. I want to be with you. I want you in my life. I need you in my life. I can't do any of this without you, it has no sense and no purpose. What use is peace if we can find some? It would be safe now. We can be together for real. We can try. We can take a shot. There's no one else but you. There never was. Let's try. Let's take a chance. Let's. Let's. Lets.

But he didn't manage to express any of that. It was too complicated, too messy… He didn't know how to put it right. He didn't know how to convince her.

He had spent so many years telling her he hated her…

Hate was easy though. It was there in her eyes, clear as day. Hate was easy. To feel. To express.

It was the opposite that was hard.

"You can't stay here." he insisted, before she could refuse – and it was the wrong thing to say, he knew it at once but he couldn't stop himself. "There's no place for you here anymore. You're not doing well. You can't be by yourself and it's not safe for you. You…"

"Get out." she cut him off, flat and cold. He didn't move but she did. So fast he almost didn't react. Her cigarette was dropped in the ashtray and he was still staring at the dying thing when she shoved him back. She was as weak as a kitten, he didn't even take a step back. "Get out!" She shoved him again. "Out! Out! Out!"

Her voice broke into a sob and she collapsed in his arms.

He didn't make the mistake of thinking it had anything to do with him. He hugged her though. He hugged her and she clung to him and it felt so badly like a definitive goodbye he wanted to cry too.

"Get out of my life, Haymitch." she whispered. "And stay gone."

It hurt.

Of course, it hurt.

But he couldn't say he was surprised.

He had tried to do the right thing. He always did.

And it always came back to bit him in the ass.

"If you change your mind…" he said quietly.

"I won't." she scoffed.

"If you change your mind…" he insisted. "Or if you need a place to stay… If you need anything… I'm not closing the door, alright? I'll be there. You know where to find me if you need me. I'll always be there. If you need me… or want me… I'll be there. Tomorrow… Two years from now… I don't care. Yeah?"

She briefly buried her face in his neck and breathed his smell in. Then she pushed herself out of his arms, her features schooled into detachment.

"I am past needing you." she declared.

He studied her a second longer and then nodded.

Crossing the short distance to the door was terrible, easily one of the hardest thing he had ever done. He turned back once he had passed the threshold, to say goodbye, but the door was shut in his face. He heard the locks being turned and he briefly rested his head against the damaged wood.

He felt as if his heart was falling apart, shard by shard, in his chest.

He wasn't really surprised by the outcome. He hadn't believe she would follow him.

She didn't know he loved her – and that was really the main problem, wasn't it?