A/N: So this is a sketch of Haymitch's gal. I try and keep each character to about 270 words or so and this one was by far the hardest to edit down because I just wanted to keep writing young Haymitch. I think I'll add teenage Haymitch to the list of oneshots that I want to write. What do you think? Review and tell me!
I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy or its characters, sadly.
Amelia Trevitt
It is much too cold to be wearing what I'm wearing. I nervously rub the small bumps that rise on my bare arms. My short, laced reaping dress barely comes to my knees and looks completely out of place among the bundled up people surrounding me, but it was the only pretty thing I had and I think it will remind him of home.
When Haymitch steps out of the train, the flooded streets erupt in loud cheers and howls and I am pushed forward. He pulls me into a tight hug amidst thousands of bright flashes. I should be happy, but I'm not. Nothing's the way it should be. He's different. His arms grip me harder, wishing things to be the way they used to. And I realize that I am different too as I hold on just as tightly, hoping for the same.
We hold a large party in Haymitch's cramped living room. A final farewell to his old life. I flinch when he picks up a knife to cut the bread and pretend that I don't notice his brother hiding behind me.
Later, on the small porch outside, he tells me that he's rich now. That he can buy me all the pretty things I deserve. That everything is better. He's wrong, of course; there's nothing pretty left here, not on this porch, not in District 12, not anywhere. Maybe there never truly was. But I smile and tell him that I'd like that because I know that's what he needs right now, what we both need.