Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With the tips of her fingers, she caressed his unkempt beard, feeling the warmth of his skin heat her fingers, like a kettle warming water. She delighted in the sight of the strong man in her bed, savoring the aroma of tulips and vodka that invaded her nostrils, not knowing when it would be the last time.

Haymitch squeezed her thigh without looking at her face. Effie sighed tremulously; the satisfaction of having him almost always escaped from her mouth, like a newly loosened corset, an instant relief.

Relief in feeling his breath on the curve of her neck, like a desperate drag of a cigarette. Haymitch made her world lighter. When she was with him, her problems became one: them.

The only thing that mattered was the fatal secret of their affair: kissing while the guards walked down the corridor, her heart's frantic beats as he squeezed her neck, the bitter taste of his lips after a meeting.

Secret. Secret. Secret.

Effie leaned back against the headboard, tracing a line with her fingers along Haymitch's jaw, distracted, airy, enchanted by every detail carefully sculpted on his face. Every wrinkle, every mark, every shadow told a story she longed to unravel.

The sun's rays slowly sneaked into the silent room. The yellowish light caught the man's attention, who turned his head towards the window. A new morning had come, and he had woken up in Effie's bed once again.

He looked into the deep blue eyes above him, observing her face twisted into a soft smile. Haymitch yawned and touched her strawberry blonde curls. "Good morning, princess," he announced hoarsely, admiring Effie's natural hair, ignoring her flushed cheeks and growing smile.

The woman remained quiet, but her huge eyes spoke to his as if dancing a memory. Her brain didn't understand the message, didn't understand the reason for the smile or the serene expression on her face, but her heart burned because he understood.

He understood the intensity of the smile, the plea in her gaze, and the silly blush on her pale cheeks. That was when his throat turned bitter. Confused and contradictory thoughts crossed his mind. Love? He couldn't afford to feel that. Not in a world where every emotional tie could be used against him.

Effie noticed his breath falter, and then she felt butterflies in her stomach. It was real. Her confession hung in the air, heavy with years of repressed feelings.

"I think I love you," she confessed, the words escaping her lips after years of imprisonment. The realization hit her like a wave, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.

The man realized what he had done. The pain in Effie's eyes, mixed with uncertain hope, was almost unbearable. He knew he was about to destroy something precious.

She noticed the man's expression change drastically. Her heart skipped a beat. Oh, Effie, what have you done?

"It will pass," Haymitch responded with fury, almost automatically, violently escaping her arms like lightning. "It will pass, Effie," he spat, with disdain.

The butterflies in her stomach turned into blades that tore through her insides in seconds. Her smile faded, and her eyes widened. What had been a moment of hope was now an open wound.

"What?" — a whisper, a painful whisper as her brain processed what had just happened. She felt a cold emptiness in her chest, the pain of a rejection she hadn't expected.

Muscle memory still held the texture of his beard in her fingers. She closed her eyes, trying to retain the little warmth she still felt, while her heart fought against the rising tide of sadness and confusion.

Haymitch stopped at the door, breathing heavily. He knew he had destroyed something important, something that might never be repaired. But the idea of opening up, of allowing himself to love, was a risk he still wasn't ready to face. He looked one last time at Effie, feeling the weight of his own choices.

Effie got up from the bed like a machine, lifeless, just controlled. The tears didn't dare fall after such a shock because it was her heart that was crying.

“It’s been ten years, Haymitch, ten years that I’ve loved you,” — the indignation and pain intertwined with each word. “I never said anything... because I knew this would happen,” — with a bitter laugh, she admitted with disgust, wiping away the tear that escaped.

The sun's rays fled the room, as if they knew what was about to happen. Just as Effie Trinket’s strawberry blonde hair darkened along with her huge eyes.

"You still see me as... just sex, don't you?" — she said more to herself than to the man, a sob quickly escaping her lips like a deep cut.

"To you, I'm just a body, aren't I? Just an escape from your own hell. I'm a temporary refuge, a convenient distraction," she continued, her voice breaking with each word. "And I fooled myself into thinking I could be more. That you could see me for who I really am."

"Effie... I..." — Haymitch tried, but the words died in his throat. Even if he tried, he couldn't love her without sealing her fate.

"No, you don't need to explain. I already know." — She said, her voice now cold and distant, like a frozen lake hiding deadly currents beneath the surface. Her heart died; she knew it was true, knew it would be temporary, but she surrendered to this "love."

"But I still love you, Haymitch." — Effie declared. Each word came out like a thorn, tearing her soul. She left the room, leaving him alone, taking with her her pain and unanswered questions.

Alone in the room, Haymitch felt the emptiness he had created. He looked at the bed, still warm with her presence, and a sense of irreparable loss set in. Tears he didn't know he had began to fall silently. For years he had protected himself from love, but now he realized that by doing so, he had deprived himself of the only thing that could save him from himself.

He sank into the chair by the window, staring at the sun that now seemed cruel in its indifference. Outside, the world continued as if nothing had happened, while inside him, a storm raged. He realized that by trying to protect himself and Effie, he had condemned them both to a life of loneliness and regret.

The emptiness echoed in his chest, each heartbeat a cruel reminder of what he had lost. Effie was gone, taking with her the last hope of redemption. And Haymitch remained, a prisoner of his own choices, in a room that now felt more like a solitary confinement cell.

Chapter Text

The hours turned into days, and the days into weeks, as Haymitch continued thinking about Effie, reflecting on how he broke her heart again—and, consequently, his own. Effie's piercing and hypnotic blue eyes left him in awe, making him forget how miserable his life was. Without her, his existence seemed intertwined with memories of her. From a simple scar to one of the most expensive drinks in an elegant restaurant, everything reminded him of Effie.

Haymitch found himself in that same room where he had last been with Effie, reliving the exact moment he let her go. His stomach churned as he saw Effie's silhouette, crying, leaving through the door. He reached out and clenched his fist, trying to hold onto her, but his body didn't obey, and his feet didn't move. His heart tried to act for him, but it was caged by his blind pride.

Like a punch to the chest, the air escaped his lungs. What had he done? He had let her walk away in the middle of a silly, senseless fight, hurling harsh words at the delicate girl who loved him.

The victor doesn't have a good history with love. Everything he loved was torn away and murdered right in front of him. His family was burned in an "accidental" fire after he defied the Capitol—his mother and siblings reduced to ashes and charred wood.

Haymitch never trusted anyone again after his family's supposed murder until Maysilee Donner came along. She completely won his heart, only to bleed to death in his arms, looking deeply into his eyes with terror. He would never forget the grunts and the stridor echoing from her throat.

The blonde-haired man blinked a few times, in disbelief. His life was surrounded by loss and tragedy, and the only thing he was used to was clinging to the pain like a coat on a cold day.

Then, she came offering something Haymitch hadn't experienced in decades, like a lit fireplace.

He gradually approached her, delighting in the secret love and care at the end of tense and painful nights, slipping between the silk sheets of her bed, seeking what had been taken from him.

Effie always ensured that Haymitch was well, even if he didn't realize it—the constant nagging about drinking, the large cups of coffee on the counter, a cigarette when the clock struck its turn, secret letters on his dresser, a quick kiss on the corner of his lips after a speech.

Haymitch took advantage of this, even unconsciously, and he knew he had exploited the young woman's care. However, he felt something deeper than mere gratitude. He felt a mix of guilt and affection, a duality that gnawed at him inside. Every gesture of Effie, every worry shown, reminded him of how important he was to her, and slowly, his promise never to love again crumbled.

He knew he couldn't continue living this way, taking advantage of Effie's love and care without giving anything in return. He decided he would reciprocate. Holding her waist discreetly, kissing her passionately when no one was around, whispering words of comfort as she broke down in his arms.

It was one of the best decisions he had ever made. In those years, Haymitch felt more alive, happier, and less tormented by constant nightmares. But now, he had thrown it all away, letting Effie go.

He stared at the clock on his wrist while catching his breath. It was 3 AM. The darkness around him felt suffocating, reflecting the emptiness he felt inside. With each passing second, the pain of loneliness intensified, and he knew he had to do something to regain what he had lost.

He rose slowly, his muscles protesting against the abrupt movement. The idea of going after Effie pounded in his mind, a flame of hope he couldn't ignore. He needed to see her, needed to tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her to breathe, to feel complete amid the chaos that was his life.

Haymitch remembered Effie's smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. Those memories drove him, giving him the strength to continue facing the emptiness that corroded him more and more.

The void that only she could fill, the void she filled and illuminated with her laughter. He realized how foolish he had been to let fear, like a persistent shadow, prevent him from living by her side.

Haymitch aggressively opened the door to his closet, desperately searching for his black blazer. He quickly put on the garment, his fingers trembling with the urgency of the moment. He walked heavily to the exit of his house, each footfall echoing the anguish he felt inside.

He drove for about an hour until he reached the small cabin in the middle of nowhere. The journey seemed endless, and each passing minute heightened his anxiety. The weather was rainy, with drops of rain hitting the windshield and creating a melancholic symphony. The road was dark and deserted, and the only light came from his car's headlights, illuminating the winding path ahead.

The air inside the car was heavy, laden with the tension of waiting. Haymitch gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers were turning white. His heart pounded uncontrollably, and his mind was filled with thoughts of Effie. He was desperate for her, desperate to see her, to tell her everything that was in his heart. Each mile covered felt like an eternity, and the uncertainty of what he would find upon reaching the cabin consumed him.

Finally, he saw the silhouette of the small cabin through the curtain of rain. The sight of the place brought a wave of relief and, at the same time, intensified his anxiety. He abruptly parked the car and stepped out, feeling the cold rain soaking his face and clothes. The sound of raindrops falling around him was deafening, but not enough to drown out the rapid beating of his heart.

The cabin seemed cozy, a small light shining softly through the windows. The surroundings were lined with tall trees, whose leaves whispered in the wind, creating an atmosphere of serenity contrasting with the storm raging inside Haymitch. He walked quickly towards the door, his shoes sinking into the wet and muddy ground.

When he reached the door, he paused for a brief moment, trying to calm his breathing. The wood of the door was cold and slightly damp to the touch. He closed his eyes for a second, gathering courage, before finally knocking on the door forcefully, his urgency clear in each knock. He needed her, needed to tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her to breathe, to feel complete amid the chaos that he was.

As he waited for the door to open, each second felt like an eternity, and the rain continued to fall, mirroring his own anguish.

He imagined Effie on the other side, perhaps surprised, perhaps in shock, but he was determined to make her understand the depth of his feelings, the desperate need he felt to have her back in his life.

Then the door creaked and opened, the strong light causing discomfort in Haymitch's eyes, who groaned with the sudden pain but fell silent when he saw the small figure in front of him.

And there she was, her strawberry blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, the blue eyes he adored so much, but her face was fallen and confused by his presence. Effie held onto her shimmering wine-colored dress and bit her lower lip.

Haymitch's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He wanted to hug her with all his strength and feel his lips pressed against hers, smell her hair, and say he would never do any of that again.

“Haymitch… what are you doing here…” Effie asked with a hoarse voice, clear discomfort and disdain dripping from her lips. She crossed her arms, unsatisfied.

The man felt butterflies in his stomach when he heard her voice and swallowed hard. “I…” Haymitch tried, but was soon interrupted by the impatient woman.

“It’s 4:30 in the morning, I don’t want to see you, Abernathy,” she spat, looking at the tired man in front of her, with nothing left to resolve with him. Resentment was the perfume she exuded.

Effie rolled her eyes, ignoring the good manners she had cultivated all these years, and huffed, wondering why on earth Haymitch was there, holding the door with her right hand and quickly pushing it to close it.

However, Haymitch was faster, hitting the door with his hand, preventing it from closing. The bang reverberated through the room, scaring Effie, who immediately let go of the door, her fingers trembling slightly from the shock.

“No.” Haymitch pleaded, a pained supplication. Holding the door with all his strength and looking at her.

“I know I don’t say very nice things, but…” he exclaimed, feeling his heart beat harder and harder, to the point of bursting with so much anxiety.

“Please, listen to me, Effie,” Haymitch begged, taking a step forward and standing on the doorstep, becoming an obstacle.

Effie seemed more frightened now, but nodded, Haymitch’s urgency touching a sensitive spot, where memories stirred inside her.

“Effie, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you these past few weeks,” he announced, loud and clear, like a mountain about to collapse.

“How I could have avoided this entire catastrophe if I had said something, but I remained mute, paralyzed by my own pride.” He looked away and stared at his feet, ashamed and hurt by his actions.

"I was a fool, Effie," his voice trembled, laden with despair. "Every second without you is an unbearable torment. I can't breathe, I can't think. All I see, all I feel, is your absence eating me up inside."

Effie kept her eyes fixed on him, her expression hard and incredulous, but her eyes betrayed a spark of emotion she tried to hide.

"You think a few pretty words will fix everything?" she retorted, her voice heavy with resentment and pain. "You broke me, Haymitch. And now you expect me to just forget everything?"

Haymitch took a step forward, the cold rain running down his face, mingling with silent tears.

"I don't expect you to forget. I don't expect you to forgive me easily. But I can't, I won't, give up on us." He reached out, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please, Effie. Let me try, let me prove that I can be the man you deserve." Like someone pleading for his life, he begged, tears streaming violently from his eyes.

"I love you, Effie. I love you so much it hurts," Haymitch continued, his voice laden with intensity and emotion. "Every day away from you is an unbearable torment. I can't, I don't want to live without you. You are everything to me, the reason I keep fighting. Please, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, how much I am willing to do to win your heart back."

Haymitch knew it sounded cheesy, but the feeling he was experiencing was so strong, so palpable that his corny words were true.

The man leaned his head against the door frame and covered half of his face, letting a violent sob escape his lips, like a baby needing his mother. He cried.

"Princess, I'm sorry, I was a fool, I don't want to lose you," Haymitch sobbed again, unable to bear it all any longer.

Effie swallowed hard, the intensity of Haymitch's words hitting her like a storm. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the pain and regret he carried.

She hesitated, her heart pounding erratically. The silence between them was heavy, laden with broken promises and desperate hope. She felt her eyes burn, seeing Haymitch crying uncontrollably at her door, because of her. Did he really feel that way? Did Haymitch love her? Effie felt her heart pierced again by the feelings she had kept hidden.

"Haymitch..." she called, carefully, feeling her chest burn with chained sobs.

The tall man directed all his attention to her, seeing the woman with open arms and a trembling smile on her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, forming a shimmering river that reflected the intensity of her feelings.

Haymitch felt a whirlwind of emotions inside him, a mix of hope and despair. He threw himself into her arms with an almost desperate urgency, holding her with all the strength his body allowed. The warmth of Effie's body against his seemed the only real thing amid the chaos in his mind.

Effie received him, her arms wrapping around him tightly as silent sobs shook her body. The sensation of being in her arms, of smelling her hair, of hearing the sound of her breathing, was like a balm for Haymitch's wounds. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears fall freely, mingling with the rain still running down his face.

"I'm sorry, Effie," Haymitch murmured, his voice broken by emotion. "I'm sorry for everything."

Effie didn't respond with words, but her embrace tightened, as if wanting to assure him that she was there, that she understood. The connection between them, even after so much suffering, was still alive, pulsing with renewed strength.

They stayed like that for a moment that seemed like an eternity, just holding each other, finding comfort in each other's presence. Finally, Effie pulled back a little, just enough to look into his eyes.

"Haymitch," she began, her voice soft and firm at the same time. "I forgive you," Effie said relieved, wiping a tear that ran down his face.

"Never leave me again."

Haymitch nodded, his eyes fixed on hers, silently promising not to make the same mistake again. He gently held Effie's face, his fingers tracing the lines of her cheeks.

"Never again," he whispered, before leaning in and kissing her softly.