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Winter had reached District 12 once again. Snow already covered the streets, and the cold was unbearable without a proper coat. To make matters worse, everything seemed a little more melancholic than usual.
Haymitch no longer knew how long he had been sitting there, staring blankly out the window, nor how many bitter memories had already crossed his mind.
Since the revolution, a lot had changed, and in some ways, Haymitch couldn’t get used to it. He had spent years of his life under the constant fear of Snow and the Games, only to, in old age, have nothing left to fear.
All of it had taken so much from him, and for years, whenever the snow fell, he wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to let people believe he had died of hypothermia. The idea of letting the snow, in an indirect way, be the cause of his death was tempting — even if he had been directly responsible for many deaths.
The freezing air invaded Haymitch’s house when Katniss walked in, throwing the door open and brushing the snow off her clothes.
“Good morning, sweetheart” he said, not even looking at her.
Katniss glanced at him briefly, not paying much attention, and headed to the kitchen to leave some of the meat she had managed to get.
Haymitch didn’t say anything else. He simply waited for Katniss to follow the same routine as always: she would come in, say nothing, leave something for him, pretend she was going to leave, and then sit beside him to talk — or just exist together.
As soon as Katniss sat down on the floor next to him, she handed him a cup of hot tea.
“Peeta told me to come check on you.”
“Alive” he muttered.
“He said he knows winter is a bad time for you. He just didn’t tell me why.”
Haymitch froze, the cup inches from his lips. He was going to ignore it, but decided it would be better to give the girl a vague answer that would satisfy her curiosity.
“The snow. It reminds me of Snow, for obvious reasons.”
“Hm.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was. Haymitch knew Katniss was a version of himself that had turned out right, and because of that, he knew that even in silence, they understood each other, and they preferred it that way.
The tea was already gone, and Katniss was still by his side. He glanced at the girl and found her absentmindedly playing with the threads of the rug. It was obvious to Haymitch that she was thinking about something.
“What is it?”
“What is what?”
“Katniss, just say it.”
Before answering, she muttered something under her breath — probably cursing him, which he didn’t bother trying to understand.
“Have you ever wanted to… you know?”
Haymitch looked at her, clearly confused, but she was staring everywhere except at him.
“No, I don’t know.”
Katniss sighed in frustration, because she didn’t want to say it out loud, not when it was something so delicate for her too.
“To kill yourself. Have you ever wanted to?”
For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. No one had ever asked him that before, and he didn’t know how to answer, because yes, he had wanted to countless times.
“Every day since I lost everything after my Games.”
Haymitch didn’t soften it. There was no point.
“And… why didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer right away, and Katniss spoke again.
“I didn’t because I had my mother and my sister. They needed me. And then… after I killed Coin, I tried, but Peeta stopped me. You didn’t have anyone.”
In some ways, that was true. Haymitch had spent most of his life alone — no mother, no father, no brother, no sister, no friends, no girlfriend. But not without anyone. Not exactly. It was strange to think about it, but a single constant in his life for twenty-five years had kept him here.
“You’re right. I watched my allies die in the arena. I saw my mother and my brother burn to death in our home. I watched my girl die in my arms after feeding her poison. I pushed away the friends I had left. I had no one, and no reason to keep going, apparently.”
Katniss turned to him abruptly.
“Apparently?”
Haymitch let out a quiet, nasal chuckle, shaking his head slightly at the expression on her face.
“Yeah. I had someone for twenty-five years who, for some reason, kept trying to keep me alive. As if my life was worth something.”
Katniss looked completely stunned, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to find the right words.
“Then why isn’t this person in our memory book? She sounds important to you.”
“Because she’s alive, sweetheart. Just very far from home.”
Haymitch didn’t wait for her to respond. He stood from his chair and walked to the door, opening it and gesturing for Katniss to leave.
“You’ve been here long enough. Go on” he said, trying to sound annoyed, but he never quite managed to be with those kids.
Katniss stood, fixed her coat, and stepped outside. But before she could actually head home, she turned back to him.
“Who is she?”
Haymitch simply shut the door in her face.
Unbeknownst to Katniss, she had planted a thought in his mind — one that didn’t leave him until he picked up the phone and dialed the first number he had ever memorized.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end sounded the same, and somehow, that alone brought him comfort.
“Hey, princess.”
A surprised breath came from the other side of the line.
“Haymitch? Is that really you?”
“Who else would it be?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since you and Katniss went back to Twelve.”
He didn’t want to feel the hurt behind her words, even though it was obvious. He didn’t want to know that he had actually hurt her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I don’t know.”
Haymitch could almost picture Effie rolling her eyes.
“Well, anyway,” he knew it wasn’t really anyway. “How are you?”
“I don’t know. I’m still not used to this life. But I still drink, if you want to know. Less, but I can’t let go of the bottle.”
“I know. I tried to make you stop for years. Never worked.”
“Twenty-five.” The number slipped from his lips before he could even process it. “For twenty-five years, you tried.”
“Yeah… it’s been a while since we met.”
“More than half our lives.”
The silence that followed was different from the one he shared with Katniss. This one carried far more weight.
That silence had been with them in the moments when they didn’t say what they wanted, and in the moments when they said far too much. When they cried in each other’s arms. When they claimed they didn’t care. When, instead of saying what they felt, they chose to hurt each other by ending up in each other’s beds.
It had been there every time they lost their children. And the one time they managed to bring two home.
It had been there when she dressed him in something decent, and when he helped her with her makeup box.
It had always been there. Even when they weren’t anymore.
“Effie?”
“Yes?”
“Do you still think I won’t hurt you?”
“If you’re asking whether I still see that boy in you… yes, I do.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No” she sighed. “But I also can’t believe something that has already happened.”
Haymitch blinked, surprised. What did she mean by that? He had never laid a hand on her without her consent.
“I never touched you” he said, faster than he intended.
“And I never said you hurt me physically.”
And that was when it clicked. Everything he had said and done it had hurt her. He had just never realized it, because she had never let it show.
“I’m sorry, Effie.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine now. And you are too. All that’s left for us is to move on.”
“Away from each other?”
Effie choked on the other end of the line. She hadn’t expected that question from him. Haymitch had never been one to hold onto people after his Games. He had always been certain that if he did, Snow would take them from him as quickly as possible.
“Why would it be any different?”
“Katniss came by today.” The change of subject didn’t surprise Effie, she was more than used to it. “And she asked me something.”
“What did she ask?”
“Why I never killed myself.”
The air seemed to vanish for both of them. For Haymitch, because it was something that still haunted him. For Effie, because she had once caught him trying — and, though he didn’t know it, she had tried too.
“Haymitch… please” her voice sounded fragile, like it might break at any moment.
“The girl has a point. I had no one left. I lost everything after the Games. I was alone in the world.” He paused. “Or at least that’s what everyone thought.”
“That’s not what everyone thought, Haymitch. Unfortunately, it was the truth.”
“I still had you. For twenty-five years, I had you. And now… I think I’ve lost you too.”
“I’m alive.”
Haymitch noticed that, deep down, there was a truth he was afraid to ask about. He vaguely remembered Peeta mentioning something that had almost made him lose Effie.
“And that’s what reassures me, princess. I can still find you. I can still have you back.”
“Is that what you want?”
He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. He knew she knew anyway.
“I haven’t changed that much. I’m still an old, drunk man, full of ghosts that won’t leave me alone. I still wake up screaming in the middle of the night, and I still hate my birthday. The only difference is that I have two children… and one important person far away from home.”
“District 12 was never my home. The people there hate me.”
“I’m not talking about Twelve, Effie. I’m talking about me, and our kids. We’re your home. Your family.”
“I’ve changed. A lot.”
“I don’t care. We can let the wounds heal on their own… or we can do it together. The four of us are broken, but we’re still a team, aren’t we?”
Silence was all he heard. For a moment, he feared she had hung up. But then he heard it, a quiet sob. It reassured him that she was still there, but tightened his chest knowing she was crying.
“We are.”
“Then just come home, princess”
After a long pause, Effie answered.
“Okay.”
Haymitch had never thought hearing that would make him feel so relieved. But he felt lighter now, knowing that the reason he had never managed to end his life was coming back to live beside him.
He had lost so much throughout his life, and he would always remember every single one of them until the day he met them again.
But he was glad he had lived. Because now, he could finally live.
Not alone, but with his family, his home, his team.