Work Text:
Just for a moment, Haymitch was relieved. In that split second when he heard his name called, when he knew Peeta would volunteer, he was happy it was Peeta and not him. He wouldn’t have to go to training, watch as his friends sharpened their knives, preparing to stab him in the back. He wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself to save Katniss because of course he would. He would give anything for her, anything to protect her from another games. The feeling of cold glass, his body becoming weightless as he ascended into the arena that would become his grave, would never come. He was safe.
Then the relief passed, and the guilt came. The guilt for being glad that Peeta would die.
Kind, noble Peeta.
The man, no, the boy, that put up with his drinking, his awful rage at the world, and still cared.
The one who cared enough to sacrifice his life, when Haymitch was grateful to not have to do the same.
The one who looked at him with eyes so much like Sid.
Haymitch couldn’t save either of them.