I don't want to leave him, but I know he wants to be left alone. He's embarrassed by the cuts and bruises for though the sap helped cleaned them, it does nothing to hide them. So I honor his wish, but I stop Effie in the hallway. I tell her Peeta is ready for a member of his prep team to help him get dressed for the tribute interviews we have this afternoon before the ball.

Just the thought of the interviews and the ball make me sick to my stomach. It all feels too familiar, like I'm about to be sent back into yet another fight for my life. I am so wrapped up in my thoughts that I almost miss the voice at the door as I pass by the main hallway back toward my room. Freezing, I backtrack a few steps, hoping he didn't see me. He is the last thing I want to deal with right now.

Sneaking a peak around the wall, I can't see him. He's obscured by Haymitch, who must have answered the door. Though I can't see him, it is undoubtedly him. I would recognize that voice anywhere, and he is making no attempts to keep his volume down.

"Don't bother." I can't see what Haymitch is doing, but the words are sharp as I lean against the wall and eavesdrop. "I don't want to hear it. I know why you are here, and you can forget about it."

"It's none of your business," Gale interjects. Knowing that they must be talking about me, I have no qualms straining my ear to hear better.

"See, now, that's where you're wrong, kid. It may not have been my business in the past, but it sure as hell is my business now." My blood boils as Haymitch talks, wondering why he could possibly think that he has any say in any of it. "I don't care what you feel for that girl or what she feels about you. This isn't about either one of you."

Gale tries to interrupt, but Haymitch won't let him. I don't see it, but I hear it as Haymitch grabs Gale and shoves him against the door or the wall. "You both are real pieces of work. And, honestly, I think you deserve each other. You're both bitter and spiteful and angry." That's rich, coming from him of all people. "But she is the only thing holding that boy together right now. And as much as you two may deserve each other, he doesn't deserve to have his world ripped apart again so soon. He's just now pulling the pieces together."

I want to push around the wall, to tell Haymitch to mind to his own matters, since his own life is far from perfect. They continue to argue, and I stew on what Haymitch said. He's right, I realize. About everything he mentioned. I don't think Gale and I will ever work. Not really. Not anymore. He matches my fire with a deep, strong fire of his own. He's just as stubborn, just as sure of himself and his convictions. I learned throughout the war that all we seem to be able to do anymore is butt heads and kiss, wallowing in comfort from each other.

I don't want that. If anything, all I want is my friend back. I want my confidant in the woods, to whom I could tell anything. Who never judged me aloud for what I thought, although now I have to consider that he probably judged me silently.

How did things get so royally screwed up? It isn't just Prim. Even before the end of the war, we started to drift apart. When Gale started treating human lives as expendable, just another piece in the war. Suddenly, I'm glad Haymitch answered the door so I didn't have to. I don't want to talk to Gale. I'm still not ready, just as I've been telling Peeta these past few months any time he even hints at me trying to reconnect with Gale again. His fire is too strong, as evidenced by the way he continues to argue with Haymitch in the hallway. I've been the Girl on Fire. I never want to be caught in the flames again.

It takes Gale forever to come to terms with the fact that Haymitch is adamant about not letting him in any further. I wait in the hallway, just behind the wall, the entire time. When the door slams shut forcefully, I let out a deep sigh. Haymitch's footsteps clink against the tile. I hurry a ways back down the hallway so I can act as if I am just now walking by when we pass. But I drop the façade when I see him and give him an uncharacteristic, unexpected hug. "Should have known you were busy listening in," he grumbles against my hair.

"Thank you," is all I say in return.

"Yeah, well, don't get too excited. I didn't do it for you," he tells me as he pulls away. But I know that, at least in part, he did.