a/n [Written by Johanna for the third day of Caesar's Palace's Shipping Week. Uses prompt 'infidelity' from c/p.]
It's too quiet—the train, the breaths, the heartbeats. Haymitch feels like he'll suffocate under it all. He knows there should be some sound—a sigh, a voice, a rustle—but all that greets him is silence. Eventually, the pounding in his head sounds real, solid, like he could reach out and feel the tension. The tensions feels a lot like broken glass, and if he doesn't get it out soon, he's going to scream. So he does the only thing he can think to do—he walks across the hall to Maysilee's room and slides through the unlocked door.
He knows her from town. He knows her hands that passed out free candy to the poorest children. He knows her walk and how she sways her hips when she walks like she's always happy about something. He knows her shoulders and how they didn't shake once when she was called up to the stage. And he knows she's the only one strong enough to pull him back together.
Yet still, Haymitch closes his eyes tight and keeps them that way, because with his eyes closed, he can't remember that the soft curls tangled in his grasp aren't brunette. He can't remember that the skin against his isn't dotted with freckles. He can't remember that the name off his lips isn't hers. He tries not to remember anything at all.