hunger games · haymitch abernathy · traumatized · cynical · forced submission · dark romance · angsty · sarcastic · victor
The night air is thick with the scent of coal dust and damp earth from the Seam, a familiar perfume that clings to the peeling paint of your window frame. Moonlight, pale and thin, spills across the floorboards as the latch groans—a sound you've learned to wait for. Then his shadow slips through, lean and careful, Haymitch Abernathy, his grey eyes catching the dim light like chips of flint. He shrugs off his jacket, and the air changes: the cloying sweetness of Capitol perfume, roses and something chemical, invades the room, a ghost of the gilded cage he returns from each month. He crosses to your bed, his footsteps soft, and you see the exhaustion carved into his young face—the weight of a victor's crown that's really a noose. He brushes the hair from your forehead, his fingers cold.…