I just want to stay

I just want to keep this dream in me

Unsurprisingly, I'm the first one up in the morning. Haymitch is sprawled out in the sleeping bag, one arm lying above his head, the other carelessly wrapped around my waist. I can't help but smile.

Gently, I peel his arm off of me and climb out of the sleeping bag, stretching and yawning. I peek outside the tree hollow, letting the morning light shine through slightly, but not so much that our whereabouts will be revealed to all in the vicinity.

I watch as a colourful bird waddles past our tree, its feathers splattered in a muddle of greens and blues and reds. I want to eat it so badly – I know that I could shoot it with my gun. But it's poisonous. Which is a fact that my mind finds difficult to comprehend.

How could something so beautiful be so deadly?

I bite my lip and force myself to look away, knowing that if I continue to stare at the bird, I'll eventually give in to temptation and kill it.

"Maysilee."

I freeze for a second, but then I relax, realizing that Haymitch has probably just woken up. But out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he is not awake. His back slowly contracts and retracts, and his heavy breathing is hard to ignore.

He's sleeping.

"Maysilee," he murmurs again.

He's sleeping and he's...saying my name?

That realization creeps up on me, and I can feel myself blushing. I cover my mouth with my hand as my lips stretch into a smile. I hope the cameras can't pick it up, but I'm sure that we're live on every screen in Panem.

I spend the next few minutes just watching Haymitch sleep. Again, I am struck by his innocent appearance. His own mouth is slightly parted, and his hands have clenched themselves into fists.

Could he be dreaming about me?

I brush that thought off. Why would Haymitch possibly be dreaming about me? The idea is so lovely, but also very unlikely.

Then again, a voice tells me, he did whisper your name in his sleep.

Suddenly, a loud yawn breaks the silence of the tree hollow. Now, it seems, Haymitch really has woken up. He's repeatedly smacking his lips together, the way Madeleine does when she gets up in the morning. The thought of my sister makes my chest ache.

"Morning, beautiful," he says tiredly.

"Morning yourself," I reply, that stupid smile coming across my face all over again.

"What are you so happy about?" he wonders, running a hand through his hair. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

I give my shoulders a small shrug, refusing to let my grin falter. "Nothing. Here, I'll do your bandages."

He nods, and I scoot closer to him, shifting into a kneeling position. I rummage through our pack for a moment, then pull out the roll of bandages and antiseptic wipes.

"This might hurt a little," I whisper. He doesn't react to my words, so I go ahead and remove the dirty bandages from the side of his face with one swift movement, making him wince slightly.

I then sweep an antiseptic wipe across his wound - which looks a little better than it did last night - and pick up the roll of gauze bandages. I cut some of it off using my teeth, ignoring the scissors that we have at our disposal, and finish off by reapplying fresh bandages.

I tilt my head to examine my work, and it's only then that I realize that Haymitch's eyes have been firmly fixated on me whilst I was working on him. His expression is softer than usual.

"What?" I say quietly.

"You're cute when you...do that," he mumbles. "Your eyebrows pull together, and your face looks all...concentrated. I like it."

I chuckle, ducking my head so he can't see my pink cheeks. I wonder if I should mention that I heard him say my name in his sleep. But that would only embarrass him. Then again, how many times has he embarrassed me and not cared about the consequences?

"I heard you say my name," I say suddenly. "In your sleep."

I watch him carefully, waiting for some kind of reaction out of him. But he only grins at me rather cockily. Unfortunately, Haymitch's kind words and sensitivity is something short-lived. Although I think that's what makes me like them more.

"Really?"

"Yes," I say. "Really."

"Bet you got a kick out of that, sweetheart," he whispers in my ear.

"I didn't, actually," I lie smoothly. "Didn't care in the slightest."

"Really?" he repeats, amused.

"Mhm."

"I can see that smile, sweetheart," he laughs, his fingers coming to the corners of my mouth, turning up the smile that's already begun to form there.

"All right, all right!" I giggle. He crosses his arms, looking satisfied. "I did care. In fact, it was...nice. Cute."

"Don't mock me." He narrows his eyes playfully.

I smile, nudging his elbow. "Come on. We've gotta eat."

"Whatever you say, Miss Donner," he replies.

I roll my eyes and pull out the small packet of bread, handing two slices to him, and keeping two more for myself. However, as I chew, I begin to realize that the bread won't last forever. It'll run out, and then what will we do? Nothing here in the arena is edible, so we'll be forced to rely on nothing but sponsors for food. If we even have any more.

"What're you so worried about?" Haymitch says, snapping me out of my own thoughts. He's just finishing off the last of his bread, whereas I, on the other hand, have only had a couple of bites of my first slice. I internally chide myself for making my fretting look so obvious.

"Nothing." I shake my head, and tentatively nibble on the bread's dry crust. But then, I sigh, because I know that I won't be able to hide my worries from him for very long, and I might as well tell him now. "It's just... what are we going to do when this bread runs out?" I chew my lip. "I mean, it's our only food source."

He thinks about this for a moment, then opens his mouth. "Then, we'll just get food off our sponsors."

"Sponsors?" I repeat sadly. "Do you think we even have any, Haymitch? Besides the one who gave us this bread."

"Sure we do," he says immediately, and I don't doubt for one second that he truly believes it. That's the thing about Haymitch, the thing I like so much about him. He's always so sure of himself, so confident in his own way.

"I mean," he continues, "We're still alive, aren't we? We've both survived an attack on the Careers. Not to mention, you killed four of them with that gun of yours." He smiles crookedly.

"That last part makes me want to be sick," I whisper, my voice small and broken, like I am. "I killed someone, Haymitch. I'm a murderer." I can feel tears well up in my eyes, and I blink over and over again in an attempt to eradicate them. "I don't care that they were monsters. They were people, and I killed them without a second thought."

"Hey, hey, sweetheart," he says softly, coming closer to me. He wraps his arms around my body and I bury my face in his chest, although I refuse to let my few tears show. "It's okay. Look, when you killed them, you were acting in self-defence. They were going to kill us. Just... try to focus on that, okay?"

"Okay," I reply, my voice muffled by the thin fabric of his shirt. I reluctantly pull away, reaching into our pack, and pulling out the water purifier. I need something, anything to distract me from the heaving agony in my chest.

"What's that?" he asks, confused.

"It's a water purifier," I tell him, and I am surprised by the sound of voice – so hoarse and empty. "We got it from a sponsor last night while you were unconscious. Guess I forgot to mention it."

A smile spreads across Haymitch's face, and I can see how truly delighted he is. "That's great, Maysilee. That means we have sponsors. We just have to keep going, and maybe we'll get more."

"Yeah," I say. "Maybe."

We don't bother moving on and making camp elsewhere, as, despite his protests, Haymitch is clearly wounded, and he needs to rest. So I insist that he let me take care of him.

"I swear I'm all right!" he insists for what must be the millionth time, as I force him onto the sleeping bag. "Honestly, Maysilee, I don't-"

"Shut up," I say, clamping a hand over his mouth. Then, I remove it, leaning in and firmly pressing my lips against his.

He's the first to make the kiss more passionate, sitting up slightly and wrapping his arms around my waist, as my hands go to his neck. We might have sat there for minutes, or hours, maybe even days, because when I kiss him, it's like the time or the place don't even matter.

I break away, though, because my lungs are gasping for air.

"Well, let's just say I won't object any further." Haymitch grins at me.

I smile. "You are a weak, weak man."

"Only when it comes to you, sweetheart," he adds.

"So," I laugh quietly, "What are we going to do? Seeing as you're wounded and everything."

"Let's...talk," he says, taking my hand in his. "Tell me about yourself, Maysilee. I mean, all I really know about you is that you're hot, blonde, and a townie."

"I'm not a townie!" I snap, genuinely hurt.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "Just a habit. So, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" I wonder. "I'm not that interesting."

"Yes you are," he disagrees, stroking my cheek with his cold hands, making me shiver. "Okay, tell me... about the other guys you've gone out with."

I laugh. "You want to know about my ex's? You really are a strange character, Haymitch. Most guys would avoid that conversation with their..." I trail off awkwardly, because I really don't know what I am to Haymitch, or what he is to me.

"Yes, I do," he says, smirking. "To see what competition I have."

"Please." I snort. "Okay, fine. My ex's... Well, I only have a couple, really. You know that guy, Albert Henning? Tall, blonde?"

"He's a dick," he comments flatly.

"You don't even know him!" I fight back the urge to giggle. "But yeah, I used to date him. Dumped me after a month or two."

"Doesn't sound like a nice guy," he says.

I nod. "And uh, there was Timothy Hardbeck. After him came Ashton Menate. Then, Evan Turnsock. And those are my past boyfriends."

"Going to add me to that list, sweetheart?" he mutters.

"W-What?" I ask nervously, shaking my head. "Don't be silly, Haymitch. I can hardly consider you my..." But then I meet his eyes, his grey, grey eyes, and lose my train of thought. I continue in a lower voice, "Well, I want to. But there's no room for relationships here."

He nods, but doesn't address what I've just said. "So, am I a better kisser than they were?"

"Maybe," I laugh. "Okay, yes, you are better." I tighten my grasp on his hand, linking my fingers in with his, stroking them tenderly. "Much, much better." I glance at his smiling face. "I didn't really like any of them, you know. My mother set me up with them. Because they were 'suitable potential husbands' for me." I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "But I didn't want them. Not in that way. I wanted..." I feel my face turning beet red. "Well, I wanted you."

"Can't say I blame you." He smirks.

I roll my eyes. "But enough about me. I want to know about you. What's your life like?"

"You want to hear all about my ex's, sweetheart?" he teases.

"No!" I shake my head. "But what's life in the Seam like? I've never been there. The way my friends make it out to be, though, you'd think it was hell on earth or something."

"In a way, it is," Haymitch says gruffly. "People die every day there. There's always a body being carted out of a neighbour's house, or off the streets." His tone of voice turns bitter, and there's a harsh edge to it that I can't ignore. "We live in absolute poverty, but...there is some beauty in the Seam. The Hob, for instance. Or the meadow nearby."

"The Hob?" I repeat. "Isn't that the illegal black market?"

I'd heard stories about the Hob, from my friends. Merchant's kids often dared each other to go in there, when it was open. Some were frightened of it, some treated it like any other part of District 12. But it was always a place of mystery, for me.

"Yeah." He nods. "My mother took me there once or twice, when I was a kid. Ever since, I've gone there almost every day with my friends. Not to trade, but just to... forget. Forget about the horrible things that are happening right outside the doors of the Hob." He smiles at me. "Maybe I can take you there, when we get out of here."

I know that that is impossible, because neither of us will be leaving this arena alive, least of all together. But listening to Haymitch talk about a place with such happiness fills me with unexplainable joy, so I whisper, "Yes. I'd like that." I swallow. "What about your family?"

"My family," he muses. "My father died when I was seven. So all I've got is my mother, and my younger brother, Laser."

"I didn't know you had a brother," I gasp.

"I do." He nods. "He's a little idiot, but I love him, really." His voice cracks at the end, and I squeeze his hand in comfort, because I know how it feels, to miss your sibling this much.

"It's okay." I force a smile on my face. "You'll see him again."

"Doubt it," he mutters. "With this thing?" He points to the layers of bandages on the side of his face. "I'll be dead by morning."

"Don't say that!" I exclaim. "You won't be 'dead by morning,' Haymitch. I'm your nurse, remember? You're not dying while I'm still around. I won't have it."

"Your stubbornness is sexy, sweetheart," he whispers, grinning. "And you're my nurse, are you?"

"That's right." I nod curtly.

"Interesting," he says quietly. "Got any nice nurses' outfit up your sleeve, no?"

I laugh, hitting his arm playfully. "Shut up."

Suddenly, a cannon goes off outside, making me jump. Haymitch only blinks a few times in surprise, not very fazed.

"Maybe that was one of those Careers," he says. "Hopefully that creep who touched you." He makes a disgusted face, scrunching up his nose.

"Hopefully," I mutter, but the other part of me hates the fact that more of us are dying every day. Despite that it's getting us closer to the end of the Games, the fact that there are children getting murdered all around me makes me feel ill. And what makes bile threaten to rise up in my throat is the reminder that I killed some of them.

Haymitch's moan of pain is what jolts me out of my reverie.

"Haymitch," I gasp, "What's wrong? What happened?"

His hand goes to the side of his head, where the bandages are located. He grits his teeth, and the pain seems to subside, because he says, "Just...some slight agony, that's all." He puts on a small smile, but I can see that it hurt him.

I purse my lips in worry. "Haymitch, do you need any medicine? More bandages? Anything...?"

He shakes his head, grinning widely. "I should get hurt more often, if it makes you fuss over me like this, sweetheart."

A smile tugs on the corner of my mouth. "It amazes me, how you can joke around like this, when for...for all I know you could be on death's door." I bite my lip, the possibility of Haymitch's death hitting me like a ton of bricks. It hurts. It hurts so much. "And you shouldn't get hurt more often, by the way." I lie down, and snuggle up to him, pressing my body close to his. "You shouldn't get hurt ever again." I kiss him on the neck, because from where I'm lying, that's as high as I can reach. I kiss his neck for the second time. "Ever again."

A soft groan leaves his mouth. "I love it when you kiss me on the neck, sweetheart."

I giggle rather foolishly, because Haymitch saying such intimate things like this still makes my stomach do crazy flips. "Kiss me on the neck," I say without thinking.

He grins, white teeth gleaming, and gently pulls my body upward by my armpits. He tilts his head slightly, and plants a kiss on my neck. It sounds silly, but him kissing me anywhere other than my lips has such a different effect on me. His simple touches send electric currents racing through my veins.

Again and again, he kisses my neck, sometimes just under my chin, other times at the very hollow of my throat.

"Haymitch," I gasp, because his name is the only thing I think of. He is the only thing I think of.

His grip on my waist tightens, and once more, he kisses the hollow of my throat.

"Haymitch," I say again, but he doesn't reply.

And then, he does something I really did not expect. His tongue flicks around my neck, like a snake. But no, nothing like a snake. Because he's soft, and gentle, and everything his personality is not. He continues to lick and kiss me all over my neck, and I can't stand it any longer.

"Oh, God, Haymitch," I breathe, "I...I..."

"You're beautiful," he mutters, out of nowhere. Between heavenly kisses, he continues, "Not sexy. Not cute. Beautiful. Your words, your actions, you are whole and nothing but beautiful."

"Haymitch," I whisper, as he does it again - kisses me and licks me in such a tender way, "Oh..."

The sound of the cannon in the distance makes him break away.

"That ruined the moment," he mutters.

"Thank you," I say softly, cupping his face in my hands. "Thank you. Thank you." It's all I can say, all I can think.

"Such a wide vocabulary, sweetheart." He grins.

I chuckle. "We-we should eat something. It's dinner time."

"Bread again?" he says, as I hand him a few slices.

I elbow him in the ribs and we stuff ourselves with food. I'm starving. Actually, that's all I've been ever since I entered the arena. Starving, and completely overcome with hunger pains. But I don't say anything about it out loud, as Haymitch probably isn't very hungry. Because I was raised with a lifetime guarantee that there would always be food on the table, whereas he was forced to go days without food.

We spend the next few hours kissing, and talking, and laughing at childish jokes.

But soon enough, the anthem begins, which we both know can only mean we must see the daily death toll. We crawl over to the tree hollow's entrance, like toddlers, and look on, waiting for the faces in the sky to appear. And they do.

The girl from 10, who can't be more than fourteen. And Trey.

In an instant, the sky goes black again.

"He's dead," I murmur. It's not like Trey and I were good friends. We barely spoke. But still, I knew him, and we were neighbours. Which makes his death all the more hard-hitting.

"Yeah." Haymitch furiously chews the inside of his cheek. He turns to me, trying hard to smile. "Guess it's down to us now, sweetheart. To bring glory home to 12."

"Like that'll happen," I mutter.

"Come on," he says, wrapping his arms around me. "Let's go to bed."

I nod wordlessly, and let him lead me over to the sleeping bag. He lets me climb in first, and he follows close behind.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This chapter didn't really have much action in it, just Maysilee and Haymitch being all adorable and whatnot, but nevertheless, I hope you guys enjoyed it. And don't worry, the next chapter will have some action in it, I promise. :)