Haymitch had an incredibly erratic sleeping schedule that caused everyone during the games to suffer. Most nights he went to bed late, some he didn't sleep at all. The days he didn't sleep a wink were also the days everyone knew to steer clear. Except sponsor days, of course, when Effie would have to ritually take one for the team because the stylists were too scared to do it and the Avoxes and guards weren't allowed to get involved in "personal affairs" unless it was an imminent danger or someone speaking badly of the Capitol.
Effie certainly wasn't afraid of Haymitch, but she didn't want to deal with it. She really didn't. However, in Effie fashion, she swallowed her dread and practically knocked down his door an hour before they were set to leave for the headquarters.
"Shut the door behind me so the children don't hear," she had whispered frantically to the stylists, then turned to the sad sack in front of her. "Haymitch! Get up! Those kids need sponsors!"
Effie had been blessed with strength from pure adrenaline, dragging him to the bathroom quickly and throwing him into a freezing cold shower violently. He was only five or so inches taller than her and drunk as a skunk, making it significantly easier. The stylists watched on in amazement as Effie threw out every obscenity in the book and manhandled Haymitch like a peacekeeper. They only ever got to see Effie like this very rarely and it was always an interesting sight.
He yelled in protest and shock.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid fucking heifer? The whole lot of you! I don't want to fucking be here. Get the fuck out! You did this to me! You did it!" He chucked a bottle at the wall way too close to Effie's head.
Effie backhanded him across the face so hard it stunned everyone. Haymitch had never hit a woman, but he looked halfway to doing it.
"Who the fuck told you you could put your hands on me, you cunt?" He slurred, hand covering his cheek.
She looked down at him with pure anger and shot back, "Those children deserve a chance just as much as you did, you son of a bitch. They didn't ask to be here, either! So gather up any scrap of humanity and decency you have left in your sad, pathetic, broken little body and be ready in twenty."
"You're one to talk about goddamn humanity and decency, Trinket." He spat, pure rage dripping from every syllable.
"Twenty!" She yelled back twice as angrily, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled. She pasted on a smile and pretended like nothing was wrong. Even the stylists were wise enough to know they should never push it with Effie.
He was out in twenty. They had glared at each other all throughout breakfast, a bruise forming on his cheek. They didn't speak a word to one another for the rest of the week. Although it wasn't much, he did straighten up a bit after their fight and was able to get the kids a few sponsors. Certainly more than last year.
After that week of not speaking, Effie couldn't help noting how exhausted Haymitch looked. He hadn't been sleeping. She heard him through the wall wake up night after night, yelling at something that had been terrorizing his dreams.
"We are alone together too much to keep this act up." She had said, slipping into his chambers one night where the servants and anyone else from the Capitol would not be.
"I'm fine keeping it this way." He growled.
She pressed her lips together, sat down.
"We need to work together. I know you don't—"
"Get out." He snapped.
"Haymitch."
"Get out, Effie!" He yelled.
She rolled her eyes, used to his erratic, drunken anger.
When they were younger, the way him and the tributes acted made her cry at night. Sometimes her eyes would water in front of them, which would be worse. She'd always have to excuse herself if it came to that. She was so young, fresh out of school, only knew what her bubble had taught her. It made her absolutely hate twelve, think of the people in twelve as disgusting animals they had stuck her with. People who didn't even have the common decency to show a little kindness to the person trying to help them.
That changed, though. Haymitch and her had struck up something that could almost be akin mutual respect. Some nights she could have even called it a friendship. The tributes were merely terrified children, and it took her growing up to realize that. After all, Effie herself was merely a child herself when she was first introduced to escorting twelve.
"Here." She had said, forcefully handing him a few sleeping pills she had pawned off of the training arena's pharmacy earlier by lying and saying she needed them. She knew Haymitch wouldn't go.
"What is it?"
"It's sleep. It will knock you out and your slumber will be dreamless. Take it now, you'll be out by 9 and will be up at 6 tomorrow morning refreshed. Well.. minus the hangover, but hair of the dog, right? And it doesn't have acetaminophen in it, so it won't damage your liver more than it already is!" She exclaimed happily, offering her most prized smile. Her smiles never seemed to work on Haymitch like they did others, though.
He scratched his head, took them from her, "Might as well pop 'em all now and end this misery."
"One, Haymitch! I will not have you dying on my watch. One will do you good! And don't take them every night. One or two should straighten you out. Take them, Haymitch. Please."
He sighed, they still had a long couple of weeks ahead.
"I don't want to do this anymore, Effie." He whispered, because no one was around and, for some reason, he trusted the loon.
"Haymitch, if you don't want to do this anymore, you have to keep trying. We both do. It's your only escape, it's the only way you can go back home and not have to be here every summer. They have to win. They need sponsors, and a lot of them, because we are the most disadvantaged out of all of the districts. You know this." She whispered, barely audible. And her heart raced at just saying those words.
"Of course, I am just teasing! We absolutely love the games! I cannot wait for next summer." She practically yelled, her anxiety not letting her miss one thing. She had seen the way the Capitol punished people and it wasn't pretty.
He looked at her and his pretty blue eyes were watering. She was sure she had never felt so bad for a man in her life. He looked… broken, defeated.
"You can be so loving and charming when you want to be, Haymitch. That's who you are, and I have had the privilege of seeing it. Show them that." She whispered again, running her hand along his shoulder and standing.
He nodded, downing the pill with a whiskey, mumbled, "Alright, old woman. Out."
"Not old."
"Out, Effie." He said, turning on his side away from her.
She sighed and turned his lamp off, "Goodnight, sweet Haymitch. Hope you have no dreams."