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She could see the stars. It was something that she loved most about her room or her loft of the Covey home. She'd gotten lucky, something that her Uncles had agreed to once she'd finally been able to make it up and down the ladder without any help. It had been a moment of trust, and accepting the fact that she was getting older. No matter how much they wanted her to stay little, it felt.
Lenore Dove understood why they were as protective as they were. She'd been giving them trouble since she was young, and her arrests hadn't made them any more assured in her capabilities or actions. Even if it made her groan and huff in her dramatics as she'd be told no, stomping a bit once her feet were on the floor above them.
She would always make sure that they knew that she was frustrated, that she was upset, that it was too unfair. But she also knew that was just the life she had to deal with too. Life was unfair, something that she was more and more clear of the older that she became. And it was just another reason why her Uncles did everything they could to keep her from going back.
She knew sometimes she made their lives harder than it needed to be. Hell, she likely had since the day that she was born. They'd never expected to be raising a child. Helping, sure, but being her caretakers, raising her on their own? Not a chance.
It was just frustrating. That was the best word for it. They hadn't let her out of the house for a minute, not since she had been let out. She'd been given far too many warnings and too many threats of just what would happen if she was caught sneaking around.
She had been lucky that her Uncles had made the connections that they had. They had a few Peacekeepers who would turn a blind eye and would give some warning so she could get away before one of the harsher ones was on their way over. She needed to be thankful.
She hadn't even been allowed out to the meadow to let out her geese. She hadn't gotten to leave the Covey home, outside of sitting on the back step to try and breathe. She wasn't allowed out of their line of sight, one of them always at home, just in case. And with that, she hadn't been able to see Haymitch.
Her Haymitch, the boy she loved more than anything in this world and the next. The boy who had changed her life since the moment she had met him properly. The boy who had survived, who had come back home to her.
Her uncles had sat her down when she had gotten home, in between her complaints and groans about everything. They'd told her everything. That Haymitch had made it back home, that he would be living in the Victors' Village, that he'd be there alone. She had questioned the last idea, the two having shared a look before Tam Amber had answered.
Willamae and Sid were gone in the blink of an eye. They'd been buried in the graveyard not far away the morning before she'd gotten out. They'd been buried alongside the tributes that hadn't made it home. Louella McCoy. Wyatt Callow. Maysilee Donner. The biggest funeral that they thought they'd ever seen. Her cousin, Burdock, had sung the song that the Covey had used to celebrate life and death. A song that was too ingrained in the life of the Covey. They knew loss as well as they knew love, if not more.
But she still hadn't been able to see him. No matter how much she had begged and pleaded. They supposedly had an eye on him, not that she was completely sure of that matter. They said they'd been sending food alongside Burdock's mamas, something to try and help and not keep all the pressure on her Auntie Barb Azure trying to help just the same.
The most contact she would get would be those moments when Burdock and Asterid would come to pick things up. She wouldn't often get much from them, outside of the minimum. Alive. Fine. Sleeping. Drunk. And it would just lead to her worrying even more, but no matter how much she begged to get to go with them, her Uncles would still refuse.
She would catch glances, she was almost sure of it, waiting outside in the meadow from her window. More times than not, though, she was sure she was imagining him. That his ghost was haunting her and just outside her reach.
She'd been able to send little letters, scribbled words to try and reach out to him. It had been some attempt of an olive branch, in hopes he might show up or he'd write back. He’d been offered by Tam Amber to come over and sit in the backyard with her, even if just for a few minutes. But there had been nothing. Not for nearly three months.
Something had been different that morning. She'd scrambled down the ladder at the sight of Burdock making his way down the road toward their house. The usual smile that had been planted on his lips was gone. Right behind him had been Asterid, though something was different.
There were stitches across her temple, done as neatly as she was sure that her Ma could manage. It looked painful, the skin around it an odd color, and Burdock had been fuming. A rock. Something that she hadn't wanted to believe, that her Haymitch would ever do something to hurt the people that he loved.
That had been the breaking point for him, it seemed. Blair had given up his attempts weeks before when Haymitch had shut him out. Burdock had hung on as long as he could, had gotten into a few scraps with him, and had refused to go anywhere. And the tipping point had finally been that morning, the moment in which Asterid had been injured.
Clerk Carmine had taken that as his case in point to say that he was more trouble than not. That if he didn't want people around, they would stop offering kindness. She understood where he was coming from, in some ways, but it also upset her knowing that Haymitch was so… alone.
She'd lashed out once Asterid and Burdock had left, which had only caused the two of them to get into it. It was something they did more than she would have liked, her and Clerk Carmine. But it was something she had always been told, her Mama and him would bump heads like no other. Tam Amber had told her stories of the two of them chasing each other out by the lake after embarrassing or annoying the other.
She hadn't been the nicest though, scared and worried about her boyfriend doing something stupid, which had gotten her sent up to her room. She had tried to ignore the conversation downstairs, eyes locked on the world outside the window. She had just been waiting, hoping that maybe she'd see his face.
And his face never came. Eventually, the night started to fall and the stars found their way hanging high above. If she had it in her, she sat outside at the Abernathy's on a night like that, she would have been pointing out the stars with Sid, cuddled in Haymitch's arms.
But those nights would never happen again.
The silence had finally become too clear, her Uncles likely having gone to bed. She'd been just as silent, sure that they had thought she was asleep just the same. It would have been the perfect moment to make her move.
Normally, their way of sneaking around had been the drainpipe outside of her window. She had watched him climb it, a mess of giggles as he tried to make it up without falling off. He'd crawl through her window and they'd lay there in love until the lark started to sing a warning of the morning sun.
But her window had been shut and closed. Tam Amber had fashioned some latch, on the outside, something meant for her protection, to make sure that she did not slip off and get in trouble. She’d have to go out the doors if he wanted to go anywhere.
She’d be in big trouble if either of them figured out she had left. Probably would lose whatever freedom she did have. But it'd be worth the trouble. He was worth the trouble, especially now.
She had almost lost him once in this world. He had survived, survived like no other to get back to her. And she wasn't going to lose him if she had anything to do with it.
She'd moved to stuff a few things underneath the blankets she had. It would be something to try and make it look like she was lying there. She wouldn't be gone for long, far before either of them would wake.
Her steps were silent as she slipped down the ladder. She felt like her breath was caught in her chest, silent, scared that one noise too loud would ruin it all. She knew the floorboard of the Covey home far too well. Each step that caused too much noise, each step that would give her away.
But it didn’t seem to matter, as she had slipped out onto the back porch. It had been a perfect walk, not a sound leaving her. “Birdie.” The nickname that had come from the edge of the porch had caused her eyes to shut, shifting to turn on the top step and look at the face.
She had never been so relieved to see Tam Amber there, settled in his old rocking chair in the glow of the dim light. If it were CC, she was sure she’d have been tossed into the base just to try and keep her from sneaking off. But Tam Amber was the easy parent, he’d always been a bit softer and had let her get away with a little bit more. Though lately, he’d been a bit more strict to keep her safe.
“The stars are really pretty?” She offered as her excuse as if he would believe her for a moment that was why she was trying to sneak out.
“They are,” he agreed. The stars had always been their thing. It’d been one of the many things that she had learned from him over the years. They would sit in the meadow and he’d tell her everything he knew about the stars, showed her the books that they had stored in the Covey home about them. “Shining bright like that boy of yours, aren’t they?”
Lenore Dove sighed, letting her shoulders relax before she nodded at the question. He would see right through her every time, there was no denying that. “Yeah. They are.” She turned completely, trying to straighten out the fabric on her dress. The longer that she felt his eyes on her, the uneasier she felt, trying to even find her words or an excuse. “I gotta go see him, Tams.” Her voice felt so small, broken, hiding back a small sob. The nickname that she had called him when she was little, bouncing after him trying to keep up out to the lake.
“C’mere.” He nodded over to the rocking chair next to him, one that had her Mama’s initials carved into it. Her old spot, one that she had taken over and spent hours watching the fireflies alongside Tam Amber during the Summer.
A sigh left her, moving to wipe at the tears that were starting to slip. She settled in the chair, sniffling quietly as she watched him. “You hear what he did?”
His head nodded, his own deep sigh leaving him as he settled back in his chair. His hand pressed against the bib of his overalls, looking his age now more than ever. She was sure she was the cause, driving him to the point of exhaustion. He stooped a bit more, he moved a little slower than he had before, and the gray in his hair seemed more prominent than ever. “I sure did. Barb Azure’s ready to rip him a new one. I can only imagine how her Daddy’s gonna react to that.”
It had been bad. She knew that. And she knew that it had been out of anger, that it had been out of frustration. She knew his heart, that he didn’t do it because he was a bad person. He just was scared and trying to hide from everything. ”I need to see him.” She missed him. She wanted to see him. She needed him like she needed to breathe, one of the reasons that she had been ready to die if he had. “I ain’t seen him in months. I’ve tried, we’ve given him a way to come see me and he won’t. I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m scared he’s gonna do something stupid and get hanged.”
Tam Amber seemed to be thinking about it far too long, quiet in a way that always made him seem so wise, though there was an odd and bittersweet look that crossed his features. She didn’t know how much time had passed, the only sound around them being the soft hum from the woods. “Do you love him?”
Was that even a question? Was it not just so clear how much she loved him? How she’d had the biggest crush on him since she’d met his gaze out in the forest under the apple tree? “Yes.”
“Does he know?” There was something reminiscent, almost, in the question. There was something in his gaze that she couldn’t place, that she didn’t know if it was just right or not.
Her head nodded again quickly at the question. He knew, didn’t he? She’d made it known every time she was around him, between kisses and giggles between them. Like all-fire. Undeniable. Always around. Never to be burned out.
“Good.” Good? It took him a few moments longer, looking around them before his gaze landed back on her. “You make sure he does. The most important thing someone can know when things start to get out of our control.”
“Tam Amber, I-”
She was quieted by a few fingers that were lifted, for some sort of quiet, to let him have a moment. She needed to listen. Most of the time, she’d be rushing everything out. But right then it seemed like she needed to just listen. “CC went to spend some time with Mr. Amos. Told him he needed a break from all of this.” He wasn’t wrong. She didn’t think CC had left the house unless necessary. ”Shouldn’t be back until the morning.”
Her brows raised in hope, eyes wide and watching him. That was a yes, wasn’t it? That she would be able to go, wouldn’t she?
“You’ll need to be back before the larks start singing.” Early, far before the sun started to rise. “And you can’t be getting caught. You’ve got a little wiggle room but they’re watching everything you’re doing. And you’re only getting this because Smiley’s the one between here and there.” One of the old peacekeepers, who had been there for years, one of the few kind ones. He’d brought her some food and slipped it through the bars to her in passing. “This is your one time. He’ll have to come over otherwise. But I know you need to see him.”
Her head nodded in agreement, sniffling quietly to fight back her tears. Though this time, it had all seemed to be too much, more than clearly. The tears had slipped past, wiping angrily to try and get rid of them. “What if he don’t wanna see me?” The question had been terrorizing her mind with each passing day. Did he hate her? Did he despise her? Did he want nothing to do with her anymore? “What if he don’t need me anymore?”
There was a gentle touch to her face, one that had always been there to soothe her. She leaned into the touch, a weathered hand that was showing his age and all the long life that he had lived. His thumb wiped away at the tears, slowly blinking her eyes open to look at him. That gentle smile, the one that she’d always been met with. “You love him anyway. And you hope that it’s bigger than the fear he’s going through.”
Love. It’d always been what mattered most. When they didn’t have anything else, they would always have love. It was something that couldn't be taken away from them.
“C’mere.”
She didn’t have to be told twice, easily crawling out of her chair and into his lap. She tucked away into his shoulder, letting the older man wrap her up as tight as he could. It was just, for a brief moment there, that she was still their little girl. As if she still was missing her front teeth and crying over falling out of one of the trees trying to chase after her cousin. That she wasn’t getting older and soon going to be moving out if things worked out how she wanted them to with Haymitch.
She felt her sobs that were racking her body, getting rid of all of her feelings, all of the emotions that felt like they were choking her. And he’d been as gentle as he could, working her through the tears, through it all. She felt safe, as briefly as it was, and she likely always would just right there.
“You go take care of your boy,” he soothed, stroking back some of her locks. “You make sure he knows how much you love him, that you’re here, that you’re not going to go anywhere.” She would follow him anywhere, even to the end of this life and into the next one. “I need you to be good for me, Birdie, for us. You gotta make it back home in the morning.”
“I will,” she promised, sniffling as she worked on wiping the remnants of her tears out of her. She felt a little lighter, a little safer, at least. She’d at least get to see him and feel something again. “Thank you, Tams.”
He nodded, shifting to press a kiss to her temple, giving her his best smile. “Make good decisions. Don’t be dumb.” It was enough to gain a snort of laughter from her. It felt easier said than done, honestly, but she was going to try her best.
She dropped one last kiss on his cheek before she climbed out of his lap and down the steps, starting toward the Victors’ Village. She could manage this. She could do this. It was Haymitch, her love, her darlin’, the only person that she would ever love. He was worth it all.
Love and hope were the only things that were stronger than fear. It had always been something drilled into her, something passed down through the Covey. Something that she had always been reminded of when she had felt too scared or when everything had gotten to be too much.
And if the Covey did anything, they loved hard.
Her Auntie Barb Azure had been with her wife, Marigold, long before any of them were born. She’d just started seeing her before the Tenth Games and they were still as content as they had ever been. They had to hide it, just to be sure, just two spinsters growing old together and helping raise a child together. She still didn’t know how he’d come to be, though it had never felt her place to ask. He’d been named after them both, a root flower and a color, the mix of their names. Burdock Sage Everdeen, though he only went by the Covey name when he was in real trouble. But they had loved each other through it all.
Her Uncle Clerk Carmine had been with his fella for the last thirty years, one Amos Diggs. A kind man who had come over for dinner a few times a year, someone that he had broken every rule he had made up to be with. They’d met around the Tenth Games, both new to the risk of being pulled for the Games. They had bonded over loss, over fear, and had taken years to even try and feel safe enough to fall. He’d been surrounded by love and loss, had seen the worst and the best of love, and had been terrified. And he’d done it anyway.
Her Uncle Tam Amber had been in love before. He’d been in love like no other. Some boy from the Capitol, who hadn’t always been there. He’d been a Peacekeeper, wanting to try and make a difference. He’d tried to help and get a few people, including a girl whose lover had been a Chance boy, out of the base and free. He’d had a heart too big for the harshness of this world and had been hung, something Tam Amber had had to watch. He’d never moved on. He’d never loved again. Some nights she would catch him in that rocking chair and looking as content as he could, his finger rubbing over initials carved into the chair arm in some handwriting she didn't know. TA + S.
Her Auntie Lucy Gray, an ever-lost soul, had been in love so deeply and fully, had felt every moment and had wrapped them all up in it. It’d been another Peacekeeper, a boy from the Capitol that had helped her survive those damn Games. She was a survivor. The same Games that her love had had to go through and had survived. She had disappeared like the ghost girl that she was named after, and the boy had disappeared in the wind just the same, supposedly sent out to District Two for officer training. The love had been there, the love had been grand and it had been quick and had disappeared the same way that she had. But it had been there.
Her Mama. Her sweet Mama, the woman she had never met, just like her Auntie. She’d fallen for some Peacekeeper boy and had snuck around just like her older Covey that she had always looked up to. They had been in love, she’d been told, in love like no other. It’d been the most free that she had ever felt. But he’d been shipped off once their relationship had been found out and she’d been left alone and expecting her with no one else by her side. She had turned all of her love toward her. She had been so full of it and had done everything she could to make sure that her baby bird would always know love. And she could still feel her arms wrapped around her even still.
Haymitch and her. Her love. The boy that she had adored for far too long and since she was far too young. She’d been enchanted by him and that silly little smirk up at her from her perch in the apple tree. She hadn’t missed every peek over to her in class, every brush of his hands when they’d walk side by side home. He’d always been filled with so much love, no matter how much he tried to grumble and pretend how tough he was.
All she had ever known was love. It was all that she was filled with. A love for her Covey, for her boy, for her geese. A love for her District and her music, a love for the future, one that she wanted to see be different. And if she could share some love, share some of her hope, maybe things would be better one day.
She’d finally managed into the gate of the Victors’ Village. The meadow was the easiest way to cut through, and she wouldn’t likely come across anyone unless they were up too late. She’d never been, outside of sneaking around to peek and see what it was like in there. But Burdock had told her exactly which one, just in case she had ever got the guts to try and sneak past her Uncles.
She shouldn’t have been surprised by the piling items outside of the front door. It looked like attempts to reach him, things left for him to try and reach out. Boxes, mail, bottles, curled up things that were a sign of no one having been there. Or, well, likely in his case, wanting no one to know that he was in there.
The front door was locked, which was some kind of relief. Despite it all, at least he was attempting to be safe. Even if it was just him locking other people out, he was still safe enough. But it only made it harder for her.
She made her way around the porch, checking the windows for any sign of unlocked. There were too many of them, ones that she didn’t even know where in the world it could connect to. It had been the last one she checked, on the side of the house and underneath a bush. There was a grumble that left her as she managed it up and open. She struggled to pull herself up, cursing quietly under her breath. It might have been unladylike, something that would be grumbled at her, but she couldn’t quite care then.
It had been far from the most graceful landing that she made, her boots making a thud against the ground and knocking against some bottle. The house was quiet and dark, outside of the pale glow from a room down the hall, not a sound coming from inside, which only made it more unnerving. There was no sight of any life there but there was a smell like no other.
Alcohol. Something that at times his clothes could smell faintly like from making it. But that had always been as much as it would be. It wasn’t a smell she was used to, it being the last thing allowed in their home. She’d been warned against it for as long as she could remember, something that Clerk Carmine had made all too aware. As long as she was under their roof, she wouldn’t touch a drop. It caused nothing but hurt and pain, and had only torn more apart than the feelings it tried to sew back together by numbing.
And it had been something Haymitch had always sworn on. He didn’t touch it. He didn’t drink. He’d watched the drunks, the state of the people who bought the liquor from Hattie. He didn’t want to be like them. And it seemed like that was exactly what he was now.
She took some quiet steps around the rooms, eyes adjusting to the house, trying to be as silent as she could be. There was no telling just where he would be, or what room of this giant place he would find the most comfort within. All she could see, as she walked, were the things torn apart or spread across the floor. Bottles, papers, chairs, trash. Like he had just completely lost it and torn apart everything in his path. He’d likely been angry and afraid. And alone. So incredibly alone.
There was a loud thud that caught her attention, spinning in her dress, and her eyes landed on just where it had come from. There he was. Her boy. Her love. But it wasn’t the same boy that she had kissed goodbye in the meadow, who she had wept over as his train had pulled away. He was thin, he looked pale, he looked… lost. Had he been left behind in the arena? Would he ever come back to her?
There was the start of dark stubble along his jaw, clearly having not been taking care of himself over the last few months. His hand was trembling, gripping tight to… a shoe of all things. As if it would cause any bit of damage to anyone as if it could scare her away.
“Oh, Darlin’,” she cooed, her voice as soft as she could manage as she took a few steps forward toward him. “I’m a bird, not a bug, you silly goose. Can’t squash me with your shoe.”
What would normally cause a fit of laughter to leave him, she was instead met with silence. It hadn’t made him even relax. If anything, it had made him tense up that much more. His grip had tightened around the shoe, his eyes narrowing at the sight of her. She was sure he’d likely just woken up from his stupor, the imprints of a pillow against his cheek clear from where she was standing.
“Haymi-”
“Get out.” It was stern. It was mean. It was the harshest he had ever sounded when it was pointed at her. She had heard him being mad before, or annoyed, cursing at whatever customer had ruined his day when delivering the liquor. Or whatever older boys he was scrapping with at the schoolyard. Or sometimes at her geese when they’d be chasing him across the meadow honking and trying to get away. But it had never been like that toward her.
It would be easy to do, to turn away and just leave him alone. That was what Haymitch wanted, wasn’t it? He’d shoved everyone away. There wasn’t a person around anymore that would or could deal with him, it sounded like. He’d shut everyone off, had refused any help, and had even resigned to hurting someone. And she was almost sure that, more than anything, he would result to it if he had to at that point. He didn’t want her there, did he?
You love him anyway.
“No.” She could be stubborn too. That was something that she did best. She was as stubborn as they came, something she had always been proud of, even if she shouldn’t.
Haymitch looked like he hadn’t been expecting that answer. He had likely expected her to turn and run. He looked enough of a mess, enough of a scary man, and no longer the sweet boy that she loved. But she could see it, in those gray eyes she loved, the fear. It had taken him over. It had taken over everything, all of the hope, all of the parts of his brain that he had tried more than anything to hide within.
His hand was shaking once more, taking another few steps forward. It wasn’t anything too close, not yet, but he did raise the shoe a little higher up. She should have been scared. She should have been terrified. But all she saw was the boy that she loved. “I said go! Fucking leave!”
Her head shook at the question, her gaze searching over his face. He had never cursed at her before, not in such an aggressive way. He’d used it to call her pretty, that she was just goddamn gorgeous or the prettiest fucking girl in the world. But it had never been so full of anger or hatred. “Or what?” She asked, her voice raising to match his. “You’ll hit me with a shoe like you hit Asterid with a rock? Think that’ll scare me away from you? Think you can make me hate you?”
He was silent as he watched her, those pretty eyes searching over her. There were a thousand gears that were running at once, trying to figure out his next move. What would cause the most damage? What would make her hate him? His chest was picking up in its movement and what she was sure was the start of a panic attack.
“Haymitch, baby, it’s ju-”
“You’re not safe.” Not safe? What the hell did that mean? Why would he think such a thing? “You don’t need to be here. You need to leave!” His words were breaking up, nearly sounding like hiccups as he tried to find his breath, even with the small slur in his voice. Though he still tried to take a few steps closer, that trembling hand raised that shoe even more. He could do it. If he wanted to, he could do it. But he wouldn’t. He just wanted to scare her.
She didn’t even hesitate as she moved closer to him, clearing whatever space was there between them. She didn’t think twice about it, that that shoe could slam down on her head, her hands reaching instead for his face. That face she loved so much, that she had spent so many years just adoring and was lucky enough to kiss now.
His sweet face felt thin underneath her touch. Even with as much riches he likely had now, and all the food he could buy, all of the food that he had likely gotten into him in the Capitol. It was more than clear that he had lost weight rather than anything. He looked so scared, so small, much more like the ten-year-old that she had first met out in the woods than the sixteen-year-old in front of her.
The only other difference, something that threw her more than anything, was the smell. He looked clean enough like he’d probably dunked himself in the tub a few times. There were no stains of ashes or smoke or coal like the rest of the District seemed to have been littered by. Alcohol. It smelled like he’d been dunked in it instead of water just the same. It was on each shaky breath, surrounding him.
Alcohol was a way to numb the pain. It was a way to make someone forget the life they were living. It was better than nothing, she felt, something that just made her want to weep. He had been running away from the world around him and toward the bottle. And she hadn’t been there to hold his hand and try and pull him back out.
Her wide eyes searched over his face, lips pressed together in a frown. She didn’t even know the right word to say, what she could even do. She could apologize, she could tell him how much she loved him, she could try and tell him it was okay. But none of it felt right.
Her fingers were gentle against his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheek. She gave him the gentlest of a nod, something as reassuring as she could try and manage to be. “There is nothing that you can do. I ain’t going anywhere. You’re stuck with me in this life and every single one after. Push me away now and I’ll just find you again in another one.”
It was the briefest moment of normalcy, the break in the worry in the gaze. It was like she could see the sun breaking through the dark storm clouds lost in his eyes. It was the closest he had been to her boy that she’d seen yet.
“All-fire, Haymitch. All-fire.”
That had been enough, it seemed, hearing the shoe drop to the ground with a thud. He pushed in close against her, his hands rushing to wrap around her. She was almost sure he could crush her in his grip, that he could snap her spine without even trying. Even with how much he normally towered over her, he made himself as small as he possibly could against her.
Her hands shifted to slip, wrapping him tight and close. One hand curled into those dark curls, the other along the back of his neck, to add some pressure against him. She could feel his breaths, how shaky, how hard they were to take, buried against her shoulder and breaking apart in her hold.
“You’re not safe.” That’s all he was repeating as he fell apart in her hold. Even with the added weight that he had on her, he still felt so small against her. He felt like the young boy that he once knew, the boy she had loved for far too long. But he sounded so sure. She wasn’t safe. What did that even mean? What did any of that mean?
“I’m safe. I’m safer with you here than I am without you,” she tried to coo, to soothe, though she didn’t know how much he would believe it. All she could do was show him love, that it would be bigger than the way that his head was spinning like no other. “And I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here for you. You needed someone here with you. I can’t imagine how alone you’ve felt or how much pain. But you’re not gonna be anymore. I’m not gonna let you be.”
She had tried to do what she could, within her limits, but it hadn’t been enough. The letters might have gotten to him but that didn’t mean that he had read them. Or even that he cared. But she should have been right there. She should have been holding him through it.
She pressed a kiss to the back of his head, just holding him as he struggled to find his breathing. But there it was coming, slowly, each breath that passed slowing down and finding its pace once more. There he was, steady and soft, the boy that she had always needed and wanted.
Even as his breath had steadied, it had taken him a bit longer before he had tilted his head back. Those eyes. No longer did she see the fear, not the same fear that had been there before. It was there lingering, hiding, she was sure of that. But for now, for now, the love she had shown had been enough to scare those storms away. It wasn’t forever, or even for a few minutes. But for now? He was there again.
“My handsome Haymitch,” she cooed, soothing as a hand moved to reach and touch against his cheek. She wiped at the tears, the same way that Tam Amber had done just the same when her own had fallen.
“I don’t think I’m much of that these days,” he whispered. There was the slur, a near lisp as he looked up to her. “I’m not much of anything.”
“You came back to me. In this world. That’s all I need.” She was sure she would have followed him soon after, as selfish as it might have been. But she couldn’t be without him. She couldn’t imagine, for a moment, living a single breath after he took his final one. “Might need a good scrub and a few months of sleep. But I think I can make it work.”
A breath of a laugh at the suggestion, shifting his hand to press a kiss against the palm of her hand. It was sweet and gentle, everything that he could be despite all that he had been through. He was still soft. He was still her love, the boy that she loved more than she loved anything in the world.
“I love you like all-fire.” She meant it, every single time that she said it. She knew that it would take time, it would take far too long for them to find what they once had, for him to find some new normal. But she wanted to be there by his side the entire time. She wanted to be there through it all, no matter how much it terrified them. She would love him anyway. No matter how much he wished otherwise.
“You too.”